From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

His lungs were burning.

His body, deprived of nutrition, was weak and feeble. Less than two or three minutes of resistance had exhausted all his energy. He knew he couldn't last much longer, now teetering on the brink, his resources completely depleted.

Therefore, there was no time to hesitate.

He decisively rushed towards a house, pounding on the door.

"Fire!"

He shouted.

"Fire!"

After shouting twice, without waiting for a response, he turned and ran towards another house across the street.

He could see the alarm on the door from afar, and without hesitation, he pulled it.

Bee-woo bee-woo bee-woo!

Continuing to the next house, he picked up a stone and threw it at the parked cars by the roadside. Although the stone weakly hit the glass, and the glass didn't even crack, it triggered the alarm.

Beep beep beep, beep beep beep.

The cars also started making noise.

He had already rushed to the third house, using the same method of banging on the door and shouting.

"Fire! God, fire!"

Without stopping, he continued towards the fourth house, but as he was heading to the fifth, he turned around and saw the two men, who had caught him.

He staggered and fell.

But he scrambled to his feet again, running wildly.

His feet were stinging, his knees were trembling, his body felt light and floating in the clouds, as if a gentle breeze could blow him away. He ran with uneven steps, stubbornly and hoarsely shouting.

"Fire…"

"Fire."

Using all his strength.

Huh!

Suddenly, Anson woke up, the stinging pain and weakness binding his ankles, dragging him directly into the endless darkness of the real world. He was drenched in sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of the water.

He quickly turned on the bedside lamp, the warm yellow light dispelling the darkness. The furnishings and layout of the hotel room vaguely appeared in his vision.

Anson looked around in shock, confirming that there was no one else in the room, and only then did he feel a little relieved, but he still seemed dazed, as if there were three or four afterimages of himself shaking uneasily, the world a blur.

So, what is a dream, and what is reality?

Anson sat there blankly, unable to tell the difference for a moment.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table—

11:33.

It wasn't even midnight yet. It seemed that he had indeed slept soundly for a while after dinner; but in just a few hours, he had so many dreams that he felt his heavy head was about to explode.

Although he felt he should take a shower and wash away the cold sweat so that he could sleep soundly again, his muscles were aching all over, and he was too lazy to move. He lay back down, curled up in the quilt, and didn't move.

Was that dream… the pain hidden deep in the memories of this body?

Could this be what happened when he was kidnapped?

But Anson couldn't be sure, because he still didn't have that memory. Even if the scenes in the dream were vivid, there was no way to verify them.

Mentally exhausted, he had just laid down, and his consciousness became hazy again; but this time, even though he was exhausted, he couldn't fall asleep when he closed his eyes. It seemed that because he was so tired, his brain refused to completely relax.

He felt as if he were soaking in a hot spring, bubbling and boiling.

Buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz.

Next to him, the phone was vibrating, but in his half-dreaming state, Anson couldn't tell whether it was a dream or reality. His brain was trying to figure out the situation.

He waited for a while, letting it go, and the phone was still vibrating. Anson guessed that maybe it was real?

But when he turned over to answer the phone, the vibration stopped again, returning to silence, with only a lamp quietly blooming in the night.

Gazing at the phone in a daze, just as he was hesitating whether he should call back, the phone vibrated again. Anson reflexively reached out and grabbed the phone, and without even looking at the caller ID, he answered it directly.

"Hey, this is Anson."

"…Anson, this is Jack."

Anson was slightly stunned. "Jack?"

He opened his eyes and checked the time again, then laid his head back on the pillow. "Jack, it's almost midnight. If you don't sleep, you won't be able to get up for work tomorrow. Filmmaking isn't that easy."

"Sorry to bother you…"

Anson wasn't sure if it was the late hour, but Jack's usually clear voice seemed to become deep and lingering, with a hint of hesitation and loss.

This made the smile on Anson's lips twitch slightly. "Why are you suddenly being so coy? Did something happen on set? Are those senior veterans bullying you, a fresh face? That kind of thing is common in Hollywood. If you need it, I can come to the set and help you out."

A small joke, and sure enough, laughter came from the other end of the phone.

"Haha, Anson, you're underestimating me, aren't you? I'm not as fragile as you think. If anyone dares to bully me, I'll definitely fight back. Have you forgotten? I'm Jack Priest, a tough guy who grew up in violence. Maybe my fists aren't big, but they're definitely not soft."

This made Anson also twitch the corners of his mouth slightly. "That's the spirit."

"So what if it's Hollywood? It's not that sophisticated. Underneath the glamorous exterior is just a pile of lice, no different from any other industry."

"Come on, Jack, let Hollywood see how awesome you are."

Jack laughed.

"Ha."

"Anson, thank you, thank you for believing in me, thank you for letting me believe in my dreams and for encouraging me to pursue them, thank you for letting me believe that life has more possibilities."

"I've been very happy these days, I've really been very happy."

Anson was stunned.

Something was wrong. The smile froze on his lips, and he was stunned.

"Jack, what happened? Why are you talking in a farewell tone?"

No, no, no, it should just be his half-awake intuition acting up.

Jack had finally started a new life, finally taken the first step towards his dream. Why would he say goodbye? This should be a new beginning, not an end.

Jack's laughter came from the other end of the phone, but it was filled with a heavy nasal tone.

"Anson, I'm sorry, this is the last time I'll be contacting you."

What?

Anson suddenly sat up straight, threw off the quilt, and quickly put on his clothes. "Jack, what are you talking about? Did someone say something to you? Don't listen to them, the tricks of the celebrity world are always like that, you don't…"

"No, Anson, don't worry about me anymore, you've already been good enough to me."

"Jack, you're talking nonsense, I haven't done anything at all, everything depends on you, so you're not so easily defeated…"

"Anson, my dad is back."

Anson froze, his breath cut off in an instant.

"Anson, that beast has found us, he's going to continue torturing Mom, I… I can't let him do whatever he wants anymore, I can't just watch him destroy Mom and destroy me."

His heart plummeted into the abyss.