From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Sam Raimi sat stiffly and awkwardly, patiently waiting for a server to come and ask for his order. His extremely introverted personality prevented him from speaking up—fearing to disturb anyone's work.

However.

He had been sitting there for fifteen minutes, without even a sip of water. The servers, busy with the early evening rush, mistakenly thought he had already ordered and didn't approach him, even when they occasionally noticed his empty table.

Nervously and pitifully sitting there, he didn't dare to look anyone in the eye, only cautiously glancing at the bustling crowd with the corner of his eye. His shoulders were hunched together, giving the illusion that he was shivering, like a stray dog soaked in the rain.

"Good evening, is this seat taken?" a voice politely inquired from the front.

Sam was overjoyed: Finally! Is the server finally here to take my order?

Slightly raising his head, Sam saw two unexpected faces: Anson, and a stranger. Definitely not a server.

Sam was stunned. His brain, starved of glucose, couldn't process the situation for a moment, and instinctively felt a sense of caution—

Sloth Flash was back online.

Anson wasn't surprised, but the situation was different from the morning. He smiled, "Wait, Director, or is someone actually sitting here?"

Only Sam could see them, but no one else could?

Sam was taken aback, and followed Anson's gaze to his side, belatedly realizing what Anson's joke was about.

Pfft.

The corners of his mouth turned up, and Sam looked at Anson again, swallowing hard, unsure if he should speak. Finally, he hesitantly opened his mouth, "Why are you here?"

Anson smiled, "If I said it was a coincidence, the director probably wouldn't believe me, right?"

Sam remained noncommittal—

That afternoon, Ian Bryce had called him, inviting him to dinner and to meet a promising and noteworthy potential actor.

Sam had refused.

Sam disliked and even rejected social gatherings outside of work. He believed he had already gathered all the information he needed during the audition process, and there was no need for further meetings.

Although Ian hadn't said who the actor was, Sam didn't think it was a coincidence that he ran into Anson here.

Wasn't the answer obvious?

Anson didn't mind, "We saw the director and thought we'd come over to say hello. If the director minds, we won't disturb your meal. Oh, by the way, Director, you should try the boiled beef with water, I believe it will bring some surprises."

With that, Anson patted Edgar on the shoulder, without introducing him, and without lingering or looking back, he turned and left.

Sam didn't speak, watching Anson's back—

He really didn't linger, his entire posture appearing exceptionally free and easy.

Stopping a short distance away, he summoned a server and told him that "the guest in the back hasn't ordered yet." The server, looking bewildered and surprised, denied it, but under Anson's firm gaze, he swallowed his words and walked towards Sam.

"Excuse me, has no one taken your order yet?"

Finally!

Sam subconsciously replied, "No, not yet."

His voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz. An outsider might have thought Sam had done something wrong, and the innocent server had inexplicably become a stepmother punishing her child.

However.

Sam's attention wasn't on the server at this moment, but on Anson.

Given Sam's habits, he wouldn't and shouldn't pay attention to Anson. It was dinner time, his personal time, and work should be set aside. But the key was, boiled beef with water, what was that?

Sam didn't even realize that he had swallowed hard.

Some hesitation, some doubt, recalling the audition this morning and the brief encounter, various thoughts surged in his mind, and finally he made up his mind.

"An… son…"

"Hey, over here."

His voice was slightly louder than a mosquito's, and he observed the expressions of the other guests, fearing to disturb their meal.

"Anson. If you don't mind, come and join me. I see there are no other seats left in the restaurant, so there's no need to waste space."

"This… is empty."

Sam looked again at the empty seats beside him and across from him, recalling Anson's words, and couldn't help but smile.

That afternoon, Ian had conveyed the message that Sam had declined the dinner meeting, and Edgar had originally intended to simply go along with it and meet with Ian, but Ian said there was no need.

"I like Anson. Although we still need to discuss things, everyone has their own ideas, but I'm inclined to have Anson play the role."

"So, you don't need to worry about me, but think about how to convince the others."

"Here's a hint, the director doesn't like hotel food, and goes out to find food every night."

"Food, this should be the director's greatest interest, one of them. He has his own preferences for food and always likes to try different new menus."

A little inside information from Ian, "No need to thank me, I'm just trying to form an alliance. Everyone wants the film to develop according to their own ideas, and I also hope that the director and I are on the same side. Good, now it's up to you."

Therefore.

They waited patiently at the entrance of the hotel, following Sam all the way to Chinatown, and maintained patience, staggering their timing to create this encounter.

As expected, Sam was a tough nut to crack, and Edgar didn't have a chance to speak, but he didn't expect Anson to create the opportunity.

Edgar looked at Anson.

Anson gave Edgar a look, they could feel Sam's vigilance, which meant that tonight's strategy might need to be adjusted.

If they directly discussed the role or acting, it was likely to backfire, making Sam wary again, and even ruin the good impression so far; therefore, they needed to leave an impression, but with more skill.

Turning around, Anson and Edgar came to the seat and sat down opposite Sam.

Anson didn't rush to introduce Edgar, but looked at Sam, "Director, do you have any favorite foods? Or are you willing to try something new?"

Sam hesitated.

He liked new things, he liked to try different foods, but he didn't want this to become his weakness, so he always hid himself.

For those who weren't familiar with Sam, they thought Sam was an "obsessive-compulsive," who liked fixed routines and familiar things.

So, should he continue to maintain his persona at this time, or should he take a step forward?

Looking at Anson, whose warm and bright eyes didn't press him to recommend anything, but made people curious, Sam swallowed again.

Sam thought for a while, "What do you recommend?"

Anson smiled, "I have some knowledge of Chinese food."

Really, just "a little bit."

Fifth update.