From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Finally!

Anson finally noticed the abnormality; something seemed off.

Anson quickly stood up and re-examined the situation.

He grabbed Harry's shoulder, dragged him out of the narrow closet, and was finally able to see Harry's completely stiff, unbendable legs, which were as hard as a pirate's wooden prosthetic.

After another flurry of activity, Harry's legs barely regained feeling.

The tingling and pain receded like a tide, and he collapsed onto the chair, covered in sweat.

His hair was completely soaked, and he was panting heavily, his chest about to explode.

Why did it feel like he had escaped death?

Was this normal?

Harry looked at Anson, his brain a mess.

His focus was blurred, and chaotic thoughts swirled in his mind like an air raid siren, leaving him unable to regain his senses or find his center for a while.

He tried to speak but found his throat terribly dry, like a desert.

Then, his whole body started sweating, and a fear of dehydration made his heart beat like a drum, his pupils shaking violently as he tried to grab a lifeline.

Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?

"Uh…" Harry tried to find his voice, but nothing came out.

He stared blankly at the bottled water and chocolate handed to him.

The frantic throbbing in his temples subsided slightly, and gravity gradually returned to his veins.

Anson leaned against the sink, crossed his long legs, and looked at Harry, "So, are you satisfied with the photos you just captured?"

Harry: …

The whole atmosphere was strange.

Why did he feel like he was sitting on the warm, comfortable sofa of "The Oprah Winfrey Show" being interviewed?

Was this normal?

Harry was somewhat dazed.

Anson didn't mind Harry's silence, casually picked up a bag of potato chips, opened it, and tossed two chips into his mouth, "It's a rare good day today, right?

A good day for taking pictures.

So, how long were you hiding in the closet, fifteen minutes?

An hour?

That's really a tough job."

Involuntarily, Harry took another sip of water, his nerves slightly relaxing.

Anson's unhurried, gentle tone continued, "Working so hard, what kind of photos do you need to take to repay the hard work of a whole day?

Do you know, Peter is also a photographer.

He painstakingly takes exclusive photos that no one else can find, but the newspaper is only willing to pay two hundred dollars."

"God, two hundred dollars."

"So, what does he need to photograph to earn some respect?"

Harry hesitated slightly, but looking at Anson's relaxed posture, his eyes full of sincerity, before he could think clearly, the words naturally came out, "The suit?

Exclusive photos of you wearing the Spider-Man suit."

Anson revealed a look of sudden realization, "Reasonable."

"Not only exclusive, but also sensational."

One-on-one, not Anson versus a paparazzi, but a reporter versus a reporter—Peter Parker was trying to become a photojournalist.

Anson completely put himself in the shoes of the paparazzi in front of him, it wasn't even an interview, but a professional exchange, and the whole atmosphere naturally became different.

"But, didn't you watch today's filming?

It has nothing to do with Spider-Man.

Peter doesn't need to wear the suit, and it's not in the RV either."

Everything was very natural.

Harry was drawn in, "Who knows, maybe it's like Superman, on the surface it looks like a suit, but inside is the battle suit, maybe Spider-Man is the same, right?"

Muttering a complaint, Harry himself knew the possibility was small, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed softly.

"I know, I know.

So, I'm just holding onto a little hope."

"But if not, it doesn't matter, photos of Anson and Kristen dating, photos of Anson and James fighting, photos of Anson changing clothes, or even photos of Anson arguing with the director, all of them are fine."

"As long as it's sensational enough, the effect is the same."

Open to all possibilities.

Anson didn't react much, but instead continued to discuss along with the words, "But Anson is just a nobody now, even if these photos are taken, they probably wouldn't be worth much."

Harry shook his head repeatedly, "Ha, it's obvious you're a newbie."

"Now that Anson has become Spider-Man, his value is naturally different.

He can't be regarded as a nobody now, but as the male lead of a commercial blockbuster."

"As long as it's the male lead of a commercial blockbuster, regardless of whether anyone has heard of the name before, it's worth money now."

"Moreover, even if it's not worth money now, you can temporarily collect it and wait for time to ferment.

It may increase in value crazily in the future."

"Most importantly, exclusive photos don't necessarily need to be exposed to be valuable.

You can choose to trade.

The agents and public relations people of those top stars are very willing to exchange things for things, photos for photos, secrets for secrets.

The uses of these exclusive photos are more extensive than you think."

"It can completely be regarded as another kind of universal currency."

Chattering, rambling.

Speaking of his profession, Harry's speech immediately became fluent, and his eyes also lit up, completely without the previous confusion.

With the posture of a senior teaching a newbie, his words inadvertently revealed experience and sharpness.

Then.

An emergency brake, Harry froze.

Looking at Anson again, his eyes were full of shock and astonishment, his brain stopped turning, and he couldn't believe what had just happened.

Wait, they were discussing Anson, but who was he discussing Anson with?

"You.

You!"

Something was wrong, very, very wrong.

They seemed to be in an interview, and the positions of the interviewer and interviewee were wrong.

Among the two people in the RV, he should be the reporter, shouldn't he?

Moreover, even if the positions were reversed, why did he obediently answer whatever Anson asked, pouring out all kinds of secrets?

For a paparazzi, a heartfelt confession was probably to this extent.

Harry stared blankly at Anson, his face full of horror, the chocolate still melting in his mouth—

So, how exactly did things happen?

Anson noticed Harry's expression but didn't mind at all, revealing a look of sudden realization, and gently raised his chin, "It seems I was too short-sighted."

Anson took a small half-step forward, extended his right hand, just like when a new photojournalist Peter Parker meets a seasoned paparazzi, revealing a smile, "Look, I forgot to introduce myself, how rude, Wood, Anson Wood."

Harry: …

Dazed, confused, Harry also extended his right hand, shook Anson's right hand, a clean and powerful handshake, and replied as if possessed, "Harry Percy."

Anson's eyebrows raised slightly, "Percy?

The Percy from ‘Kevin!’?"

"Kevin," this is the most classic scene in "Home Alone", shouting the name with a look of astonishment, while a montage cuts to Kevin's scene, the blond, blue-eyed little guy using his father's aftershave, slapping his face with both hands, making a scream, a clever edit—

A movie moment.

And few people know that among the villainous thieves in "Home Alone", the head named "Harry" is played by Joe Pesci, winner of the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.

So… Harry? Percy?

Didn't that make you think of something?