From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Emptiness.

An abrupt halt, an emergency brake.

Seemingly unprepared, filming concluded, the crew disbanded on the spot, and then… nothing else. In the rush, it felt like a period was missing.

If he were to go home just like that, it would feel as if he still needed to wake up on time tomorrow and report to Burbank, continuing the non-existent filming. That sense of emptiness lingered, impossible to shake off.

The entire "Princess Diaries" project was like that, starting suddenly, a successful audition without any warning; ending just as abruptly, no different from clocking out of a regular job. Was it normal to feel like a "salaryman being fired"?

Anson thought, maybe he should do something, like—

Surfing.

He loved the ocean, always harboring a inexplicable fondness for it. Just quietly gazing at the sea, even without doing anything, simply feeling the vastness, the boundlessness, the waves, the horizon where the sea meets the sky, his mind could quiet down, all thoughts clearing from his head.

Now was the perfect time, a little impulse, seizing the opportunity to turn it into reality.

Looking ahead, identifying directions, trying to find the road to Santa Monica Pier, unintentionally, the corner of his eye caught a sign.

And then.

Ninety seconds later, Anson was already standing in front of the deep brown, two-story building, looking up at the neat row of black letters on the side.

"Los Angeles Academy of Performing Arts".

Involuntarily, a hint of excitement flickered in his eyes, the emptiness in his chest instantly filled, a kind of eager anticipation surging out from that black hole, making his steps and body feel lighter.

On set, observing Julie's performance up close, those exchanges, those discussions, those thoughts all settled down, eventually evolving into something of his own, but without learning and practice, it was still just an empty shell.

Originally, it was just a thought, but after seeing this building, it evolved into a strong interest, decisively turning the steering wheel, changing his destination.

Without hesitation, Anson climbed the steps, pushed open the deep brown door, and entered. A space of raw wood, with beige and light brown as its base, unfolded before his eyes. Although quiet, one could feel the vitality in the air—

Some singing, some lines, some laughter, filtered through the soundproof walls, leaking out in rustling whispers, gently surging in the space.

Clearly, he could only see a corridor, with practice rooms with closed doors lined up along the corridor, unable to see what was happening inside, yet he could still feel the vigorous vitality quietly overflowing.

At the front desk, a thin young man was currently inquiring. One could catch snippets of the staff explaining the trivialities of different programs. Anson was not in a hurry to step forward, but sat down patiently to wait.

But unexpectedly, he had just sat down, not even had time to carefully feel whether the chair was comfortable, whether the filling inside the sofa was sponge or spring, when the inquiry there was already finished, and the young man turned around.

"…Thank you, I'll consider it."

His gaze still fixed on the brochure, he walked towards Anson's direction, head down.

It looked like he was planning to sit down and consider it. That figure charged straight towards Anson. Anson slammed on the brakes and took a step to the side to dodge, and the other party noticed the black shadow that flashed before his eyes.

"Ah, sorry."

He raised his head, looked at Anson, his eyes especially deep and large, made more prominent by his gaunt face.

"God, I shouldn't have been distracted, sorry, very sorry."

Not just in words and expressions, his hands also reflexively reached out, as if Anson was some delicate glass doll that would shatter at a touch, carefully protecting him on both sides, shielding Anson.

That appearance made people couldn't help but smile.

Originally, it was just a small matter. Anyway, there was no collision, not even a graze; such a solemn apology was making a mountain out of a molehill, making a small matter seem serious. Even the front desk looked over.

Anson was a little dumbfounded, subconsciously glanced at the young man in front of him, couldn't help but want to crack a joke, and the words blurted out.

"If apologies worked, what would we need the police for?"

The young man was stunned, stood up straight, scratched his head, and showed a smile, a little shy, a little restrained, but without the imagined panic and horror, seemingly also hearing the teasing and jest behind Anson's words.

"Oh yeah, it seems that's really the case, so what should I do?"

Anson was taken aback, a smile flashed in his eyes, with a serious expression, "I need to get checked for injuries."

The young man sized Anson up and down, the smile at the corner of his mouth already unable to be suppressed. He barely controlled himself, and asked in the same serious tone, "Where?"

But before the words were finished, the smile had already blossomed and climbed to the corners of his eyes, ultimately unable to hold back. He then realized that his laughter seemed a little inappropriate, and waved his hands repeatedly, saying in a sincere tone, "Sorry… haha, sorry…"

Anson was still a cut above, although he really wanted to laugh, he still maintained a sad expression, shaking his head gently, "Secondary damage, the emotional distress fee might need to be five million dollars."

If he still hadn't heard Anson's joke at this point, then he might really be lacking a few screws.

The young man also realized that he had just made a mountain out of a molehill, and the person in front of him was clearly helping him out of the situation, and a slightly awkward scene was easily defused.

"Phew, thank you."

The young man let out a long breath and patted his chest.

"I recently compensated someone with fifty million, I can't come up with that much cash temporarily, good thing your claim didn't reach seven figures."

Anson said something in a solemn manner, "Hallelujah."

The young man's smile fully bloomed, he didn't continue to joke, but introduced himself, "Jake."

Anson nodded slightly in acknowledgment, and simply responded, "Anson."

The atmosphere, harmonious.

From strangers to acquaintances, it only took less than thirty seconds, and the two strangers naturally got to know each other.

This young Jake in front of him, although not as famous as that Jake in "Titanic", was also one of the best of this batch of young actors—

Jake Gyllenhaal.

If Anson remembered correctly, Jake was already twenty years old this year, still young, still green, but no longer an unknown nobody.

In fact, Jake came from a show business family in Los Angeles:

His father was a director, his mother was a producer and screenwriter—among them, his mother was even nominated for an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay for the 1988 work "Running on Empty"; his sister Maggie Gyllenhaal is also an actress.

Moreover, Jamie Lee Curtis, who once starred in "True Lies", is Jake's godmother, and the Paul Newman family are good friends of their family.

Last year, at the age of nineteen, Jake successfully entered the public eye with his outstanding performance in "October Sky", and won a series of Teen Choice Award nominations.

To be honest, Anson was a little surprised to see Jake at the acting academy; but he didn't expect that Jake also had similar thoughts.

"How did you end up here?"

"What are you doing here?"

One before the other, in unison.

Second update.