From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang—

"Joan?"

"Joan!"

Johnny frantically pounded on the lounge door, shouting urgently and anxiously, his voice laced with a hint of desperate tension.

Filming, continue.

The stage portion went smoothly. Even after switching camera angles and reshooting three times, Anson and Reese remained immersed in their roles, maintaining their state. Their handling of the emotional details, the push and pull within the ambiguity, the ups and downs within the entanglement, was nothing short of brilliant. Even a single glance carried weight.

Mankiewicz seized the opportunity, and while the stage was being reset to prepare for the filming of another performance scene, he went backstage to film the next scene.

Joan Carter left the stage, returned to her dressing room, and locked herself inside. Johnny pursued relentlessly, abandoning the performance and quickly chasing after her.

Emotional tension needed to be sustained.

The sound of his pounding alone conveyed the struggle that was burning and boiling within Johnny's core—muffled, turbid, one strike after another.

Johnny called out Joan Carter's name urgently and agonizingly, but consistently received no response.

"Joan, open the door."

"Joan! Open the door!"

Finally, Joan Carter's voice came from inside, thick with nasal tones, "Leave me alone, Johnny, okay?"

Johnny refused.

He kept twisting the doorknob, turning it left and right, left and right. The doorknob inexplicably failed; with a gentle push, the door swung open.

Joan Carter frantically buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her disarray.

Johnny, covered in sweat and light on his feet, looked at Joan Carter breathlessly, "I… I… What did I do wrong?"

No response.

Johnny's pupils vibrated violently, and his eyes slightly reddened, "Joan, it's just a song."

Joan Carter shook her head sadly, her anger subsiding, and simply said softly, with a bitter plea, "Please stay away from me."

A single sentence, a single glance, struck Johnny hard.

Johnny froze in place, all the mixed emotions in his eyes receding like the tide, leaving only panic, endless panic.

The extreme of panic is fear.

A sadness and bitterness were hidden within the fear, stirring up a storm in those clear pupils.

Joan Carter looked at Johnny, Johnny looked at Joan Carter. They were clearly face-to-face, yet unable to communicate. Everything was off, everything was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

It was at that moment that the breath was cut off.

Mankiewicz closed his eyes.

A roar filled his eardrums, plunging him into a painful struggle.

Therefore, with a turn, Johnny returned to his own waiting room, finally unable to control his anger. He smashed the entire waiting room, smashing the guitar, smashing the sofa, smashing everything he could see, completely surrendering to the embrace of alcohol, letting himself become completely lost in the world of fame and fortune.

Therefore, Joan Carter decided to keep her distance from Johnny. Later, she met her second husband. This marriage was more stable and longer-lasting. Far from Johnny's world, Joan Carter did not lose herself. She continued to shine brightly in her own way, climbing to new heights in her career.

Each was well in their own way.

Perhaps, they were both too young at the time, but that's life.

The right time, the right place, the right person—all are indispensable. Any error in any link will prevent the completion of a correct puzzle.

Mankiewicz reopened his eyes, gazing at the clear and deep eyes on the monitor, the exhaustion after the tearing and pulling dragging his ankles down slowly—

Slowly, slowly, just like that, swallowed by darkness.

"Cut!"

Finally, Mankiewicz spoke.

"Perfect!"

Suddenly, Mankiewicz stood up, only then realizing that his entire back was soaked. He had been sitting behind the monitor the whole time, doing nothing, but his mind and emotions had completely entered the world of the lens, rising and falling with them, and he was drenched in sweat.

The excitement revealed in every pair of eyes, the joy displayed on every face—the surging and joyous mood was completely unmasked.

Not just the audience, but the staff as well. The sense of accomplishment after completing a difficult scene filled and stirred in their chests.

So, should they applaud?

Considering the rumors before the start of filming today, wouldn't applauding now be a slap in the face?

However, before the staff could figure out a reason, a cry of surprise broke the silence.

"Anson!"

Noah, who had been intently watching Anson, was the first to notice something was wrong, watching helplessly as Anson's knees buckled and he collapsed.

Reese, who was sitting in front of Anson, was still recovering her emotions, not fully able to break free from her role. The next second, she saw Anson's figure fall and couldn't help but cover her mouth, "Anson!"

Fortunately, Anson hadn't completely lost his strength. His remaining willpower barely allowed him to control himself, reaching out to hold onto the wall and door panel, cushioning the fall slightly. In the end, he simply collapsed to the ground, not falling straight down.

Despite this, Anson simply took the opportunity to lie down on the ground, closing his eyes to adjust his breathing—

His heart was racing.

The roaring came in waves, almost about to explode. He needed to slow down.

Noah slid over on his knees, his heart having stopped beating, "Anson, Anson? Are you okay?"

"Anson, where do you feel unwell?"

"Anson? Can you hear me? Anson!"

Anson only felt a cacophony, raising his hand to wave it away, "Noah, I just need sugar. I need to replenish some sugar."

Noah immediately stood up, not even caring about his bruised knees.

"Noah, and water. A drink. Anything is fine, I need to replenish fluids."

Noah nodded repeatedly, "Anson, wait for me."

The words were still echoing in the air when Noah rushed out.

A scene of chaos, a scene of noise.

Not just Noah, the crew instantly became a mess, which made Anson realize that if he didn't open his eyes again, everyone's rhythm would be disrupted.

Letting out a long breath, Anson sat up again and raised his right hand in Mankiewicz's direction, "Director, I'm fine."

Mankiewicz stared straight at Anson, unable to make a sound, and then his whole body slumped back into the director's chair, his heart almost jumping out.

Anson's peripheral vision could see Reese approaching. He turned to look at her, "Sorry, I scared everyone. I just needed some sugar."

Reese smiled and pulled an energy bar from a prop bag, "I understand. After last night's hangover, you were very hungry, right? But for the performance, you ate something to fill your stomach, but couldn't eat too much, otherwise your stomach would churn when singing, and your mouth would be full of the taste of breakfast."

Anson stared dumbfounded at Reese as she pulled out the energy bar as if by magic, his face full of confusion, "Are you sure this isn't a prop, and that it's really edible?"

The light tone made Reese laugh directly.