From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Thump, thump—

Her heart was beating wildly, uncontrollably.

Although Annie was trying to control herself, the soaring joy and upturned corners of her mouth still broke free from the reins of reason, "I don't believe you."

"You, Anson Wood, have never shown this side of yourself in front of other women?"

Anson met Annie's scrutinizing gaze calmly, spreading his hands, "Do you think I need to?"

Wait, what was with this arrogant attitude?

Annie tried to put on a mocking expression, but a smile still bloomed, "Indeed, you don't need to. With a flick of your finger, countless women would throw themselves at you."

Anson shook his head.

Annie, "Oh, isn't that so?"

Anson continued to shake his head, "No, not even a flick of a finger is needed. They come one after another, unstoppable. If they lined up to wait, they could probably stretch all the way from here to 72nd Street."

Annie: … …

Anson, "Haha."

The bright laughter startled the tranquility of the garden, and the swirling mist churned. Anson quickly controlled his volume, vigilantly looking around.

Along with him, Annie also became nervous.

After waiting for a moment, there was still no movement in the garden, which allowed both of them to relax. They exchanged a glance unintentionally, only then realizing the other's embarrassed appearance from holding their breath.

Annie suppressed the corners of her mouth, "I thought you were fearless."

Anson spread his hands, "I forgot to bring my checkbook tonight, otherwise everything could be solved. As it is now, I still lack a little confidence."

Annie, "Pfft."

Anson straightened up again, "See, this is a stereotype. It's all Leonardo DiCaprio's fault."

Ha!

Annie almost laughed out loud, covering her mouth at the last moment to control herself, but the smile in her eyes still overflowed.

Anson, "In Hollywood, when you see a handsome guy, you naturally imagine a scene: one woman in the morning, one woman in the afternoon, and another woman when he goes to a party in the evening, but the next day, a different woman leaves his house…"

Annie covered her mouth, a look of confusion in her eyes, "Oh, wait, isn't that so?"

Anson, "Okay, well, it's like that, but not every day."

Annie widened her eyes: … …

Anson, "Please, paparazzi, stop with your unrealistic fantasies, okay? Leonardo DiCaprio aspires to be the next Warren Beatty, but not everyone is like that. In fact, precisely because of your stereotypes, no one wants to believe me."

"You always assume in advance, hey, that guy must already have a date."

"But, no."

Annie narrowed her eyes, full of suspicion, "No?"

Anson met Annie's gaze sincerely, "No. But now, I'm hoping to have one. So, would you like to go on a date sometime?"

Generous and upright, he finally made a formal invitation.

Annie's eyes and the corners of her mouth were full of smiles as she scrutinized Anson, "No."

An unexpected answer.

Anson chuckled, tilting his head, "I mean, after your publicity period is over."

"Without a doubt, this is the most wonderful memory I've had in a very, very long time."

"But, you know what? Wonderful things often don't last long, like flowers, blooming briefly and then withering. When things reach their peak, it's all downhill from there, everything will get worse, so the only way to keep wonderful memories is to end them in time."

Anson gently raised his chin, "So, you're a pessimist."

Annie pursed her lips, "So, you're a romantic? I thought you were a pessimist too?"

Anson looked over.

Annie explained, "Actors can't last, their blooming period is too short. If they don't make a breakthrough, they'll be forgotten in a blink of an eye. Your view is the same as mine."

Anson smiled, "Yes, that's the truth, it is indeed. But the point is, if you're afraid of failure and even give up starting, then everything is meaningless. There's no pain, and therefore no happiness; without the fear of loss, wonderful memories also lose their meaning. You're giving up on adventure."

Annie, "What about you?"

Anson, "I always welcome adventure."

"I know, eternal love is like a unicorn, everyone knows it, but no one is sure they can find it in real life. It's all just a fairy tale, so much so that we don't even know if we should believe it, just like when children grow up and read fairy tales again, their mood is different."

Annie, "But you're still willing to take the risk?"

Anson, "Yes, I am. So, are you willing to take a risk with me?"

Dashing, handsome, and charming.

It must be said, Anson was captivating.

Without words or actions, just standing there quietly, a look, a smile, could stir the rhythm of the heart and draw one into a storm.

Annie looked at Anson with bright eyes, but didn't answer. Instead, she gave a playful smile and turned to walk towards the only bench in the garden.

Just like the benches in New York's Central Park, this bench in the private garden also had a commemorative inscription engraved on its back.

"In memory of Anna, who deeply loved this garden,

Forever accompanied by her William."

Gently, Annie read the words, a tremor in her heart, and the chaotic thoughts settled down. Then, Anson's deep voice came from her ear.

"Perhaps, some people can indeed walk through a lifetime together."

This time, Annie didn't look up at Anson, but just stared at the back of the bench.

"Anna Michelle, 1927-2003."

Without words, one could tell from the dates of birth and death that they had accompanied each other throughout their lives.

In this process, there were ups and downs, turbulence, pain, and struggles, but in the end, they stayed by each other's side and cherished that memory forever.

Gently exhaling, Annie spoke again, "Do you believe in unicorns?"

Anson didn't answer.

Annie answered herself, "Disney princesses should believe in unicorns, right?"

Obviously, this was Annie's answer to Anson.

The smile at the corners of Anson's mouth lifted slightly, but he didn't rush things. Instead, he stepped back slightly, making way.

Sure enough, Annie sat down on the bench, bathed in the moonlight, glanced at the swing next to her, and then looked up, catching the traces of the stars through the treetops. Besides the breeze, only the sound of the fountain was gently surging.

Anson, on the other hand, sat cross-legged on the ground opposite Annie. Neither of them spoke, just closing their eyes and listening to the breeze and the sound of the water, flowing gently.