From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

"Director, do you like spicy food?"

"Yes!"

Anson had barely asked when Sam answered, even with a hint of excitement.

Sam noticed Edgar and the waiter looking at him and immediately became a little reserved. He cleared his throat, his gaze involuntarily dropping, and he lowered his voice slightly, "I really like spicy food."

Anson glanced at Edgar: Brother, your stomach might have a hard time tonight.

Then, Anson gave the waiter a smile, "Good evening, sorry to keep you waiting. It shouldn't be peak dining time yet, right?"

Sam: … …

Edgar: … …

The waiter was searching all over for his jaw.

Because Anson was speaking Chinese, fluent and authentic Chinese.

Occasionally, in Chinese restaurants, you might encounter some foreigners learning Chinese. Not many, but it does happen occasionally. Their tones are often a bit strange. The four tones of Chinese are difficult for them to adapt to, so the intonation of the entire sentence is filled with the flavor of hamburgers.

However, Anson was completely different!

Standard. Fluent. Natural.

Also, accurate word usage.

So, what was going on?

Anson looked at the unresponsive waiter and switched back to English, "Oh, sorry, were you born here?"

Among second-generation and third-generation immigrants, their lifestyles have seamlessly integrated here, and fewer and fewer young people still retain the habit of speaking their native language.

The waiter finally came back to his senses, put his dislocated jaw back in place, and unconsciously revealed an exceptionally kind and cheerful smile, waving his hands repeatedly.

"No. No, no… I just came here last year and I'm still studying, working part-time here. I was just surprised, your Chinese is really good. Really, not flattering, I think it's better than my Chinese. Now when I call home, my mom says my Chinese isn't standard anymore."

Anson thought, do you know that professors in domestic journalism departments recommend that students interested in hosting or journalism pass a Mandarin proficiency test?

Of course, he didn't say this out loud.

Anson said modestly, "I'm still learning. So, I just looked at the menu, and you have a lot of authentic Sichuan, Cantonese, and Northeastern dishes, quite different from 'Panda Express'."

Waiter: … …

The jaw that had just been dislocated hadn't fully recovered, and now he had to search for shards of his glasses all over the floor again.

Ordering took some time.

Edgar and Sam didn't interrupt, watching with astonished expressions like they were witnessing an alien landing, their jaws constantly dislocated.

Although they didn't communicate, Edgar and Sam's eyes met unintentionally, and they actually developed a brief understanding.

"Do you know?"

Edgar: ???

It wasn't until the end of the ordering process that the waiter turned and left, his steps as if treading on clouds, unsteady and fluctuating. Anson turned his head and saw two fledgling birds looking at him expectantly, which made Anson chuckle.

"Sorry, I just asked some important questions."

"What is the level of spiciness here, how big is the difference between mild and very spicy; whether there are any ingredients in some dishes that you should avoid. I know you probably don't like offal and claws…"

Before he could finish speaking, Sam interrupted, "Offal? Are you talking about ingredients like oxtail or beef tripe?"

Oxtail, Anson knew, but beef tripe? "Are you referring to dishes from central France?"

Sam's eyes lit up, "What, you know French cuisine too?"

Anson smiled, "My mother is French."

"Wow." Sam exclaimed, unable to control himself, leaning forward slightly, close to the edge of the table, carefully scrutinizing Anson. His eyes, which had been sleepy and half-closed, suddenly became bright, and then he exclaimed again, "Wow!"

Anson now realized that the director's eyes were so big, "What, is there something on my face?"

Sam shook his head, "No, just surprised. You're so knowledgeable about food, how do you maintain your figure?"

That's quite the transition?

Anson immediately laughed, "Exercise. There's no secret to it. You have to burn as many calories as you consume, or even more. Either eat less or don't eat at all, otherwise there's no shortcut."

Sam looked bewildered, "Do you even calculate calories for every meal?"

Anson was taken aback: I let something slip.

Although the lifestyle of calculating calories has already emerged, it hasn't become widespread yet. The year 2000 always feels a bit more distant than Anson's perception. What he took for granted is still a novelty now.

Fortunately, Sam didn't pause, answering his own question, "Ah, actors really have it tough."

Anson's smile fully bloomed, "So actors can get twenty million dollars for a movie, but directors can't. It's called equivalent exchange."

Sam didn't speak, but stared blankly at Anson. Just as Anson thought he had said something wrong, Sam suddenly clapped his hands and laughed loudly, "You're an interesting guy."

The laughter had just started when Sam immediately noticed the gazes cast from around and immediately quieted down, returning to his poker face.

However, this time it was slightly different, he lowered his head, concealing his upturned嘴角.

Edgar: Can't keep up.

Edgar glanced at Anson, and couldn't help but admire him more and more. Anson was able to handle such a difficult and unpredictable director with ease.

Anson met Edgar's gaze and shook his head almost imperceptibly: They shouldn't discuss business.

Any slight disturbance could make the highly vigilant Sam wary, and then all their efforts to date would be in vain.

Anson's gaze didn't linger, he believed that Edgar should also be able to accurately assess the situation.

Looking at Sam again, "You just said you like spicy food, so, to what extent? You know, many people's standard for spicy food is Taco Bell. That's not Mexican food, real Mexican food is more than that."

Sam raised his head, nodding repeatedly, "Yes, yes, yes, they always say Taco Bell is spicy enough, but God, Texas food is more than that, they should really go to the South to taste real Mexican food."

The topic returned to food.

The entire conversation was pleasant. Although they didn't discuss work, the friendly and smooth atmosphere broke the deadlock and revealed a completely different side of Sam —

Edgar never knew that Sam was so talkative. At least within Hollywood, there had been no rumors of this until now.

So, how did Anson do it? He was like an encyclopedia, able to express opinions on different fields and aspects. And it wasn't just empty talk, he was often able to accurately pinpoint the key points, while also knowing how to advance and retreat appropriately.

The atmosphere of the conversation was particularly pleasant.

Edgar thought that he might have heard Sam laugh more tonight than in the entire past year.

Even Edgar himself couldn't help but join the conversation, and without feeling out of place —

For God's sake, Edgar believed that Sam probably still didn't know his name and identity.

First update.