From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

In the past, journalism believed that the backlash of public opinion would only affect public figures; however, with the comprehensive development of the internet, the definition of public opinion has become increasingly broad, the definition of public figures has become increasingly vague, and the harm of backlash is also spreading comprehensively. Ordinary individuals may also become targets of attacks.

In other words, the harm will not stop, and the scope of both perpetrators and victims is expanding, no longer limited to paparazzi and celebrities.

Escape?

They have nowhere to escape.

In this regard, Anson is pessimistic because he has experienced the violence of social networks, which is overwhelming and all-pervasive; but at the same time, Anson is also optimistic because he has experienced tempering and rebirth. He knows that he is stronger than them.

Winona looked at Anson, her pupils trembling slightly, unsure if she understood Anson's meaning. "So, do you mean we should just surrender?"

Anson shook his head, not in a hurry to speak, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and that shallow smile naturally revealed a hint of confidence and composure, as well as a trace of mischievous cunning. "No, I mean we should break through head-on."

Winona was stunned.

Anson continued, "What do the paparazzi want to see? They surround you, chase you, invade your life relentlessly, and launch attacks with camera lenses as weapons. In essence, they want to capture the moment you lose control."

"Your embarrassment, your fear, your fragility, your collapse—the more crazy, the more exciting, the better. That is their real purpose."

"In the vortex of negative events, your haggardness and loss will become their weapons to attack you, and your sadness and pain will become the gossip for public entertainment."

"But what if you don't?"

"You are calm and composed, you are calm and generous, you still live your own life, you have not fallen into negative emotions, staying in place and stopping. When others try to laugh at you, you have already moved on."

"Such you cannot arouse any interest. At most, people will complain that you are cold-blooded and that you are like a robot, but the point is that no one is interested in the daily life of a robot, because it is just a bunch of 1s and 0s in the program."

Pfft.

Winona herself didn't realize that she could still laugh in such a difficult situation, but looking at Anson, a smile gently crept onto the corners of her mouth, and the haze shrouded above her head seemed to quietly dissipate.

The smile still lingered on the corners of her mouth, but Winona still couldn't control her nervousness. She looked back at the tent entrance, and a lingering fear surged into her heart again, and her brows inevitably drooped with disappointment, "It's easier said than done, but how can things be so simple?"

Anson understood that everything is the same. Talking on paper seems easy, just moving your lips; but only after experiencing it firsthand do you know the pain, the struggle, the hesitation, which are not that simple.

Anson thought for a while, "How about you come out with me?"

Winona's first reaction was to shake her head, "No, I can't implicate you." She shook her head again, "You've already helped me too much today, and I can't drag you into this mess."

Anson's face was calm, "How do you know I'm not using you?"

Winona's expression obviously froze.

The traces of being hurt have never disappeared.

However, Anson did not avoid her gaze and met Winona's eyes frankly.

In fact, in Anson's opinion, this was just a small favor. He needed to leave here before those jackals and tigers in the fashion circle swarmed in to tear him apart. Compared to Edgar, Winona was a much better shield; helping Winona was also helping himself—

This is called mutual help.

Closer.

Even closer.

"Relax. Smile. Just like preparing to dive, hold your breath in advance and meet the challenge with a perfect attitude."

Anson's voice came from her ear, and Winona realized that she had become nervous again, and then she could hear a playful joke.

"Just treat me as an oxygen tank. This is not a deep dive, but you still brought an oxygen tank, overkill, and you are overprepared."

Pfft, Winona couldn't help but smile completely.

Whoosh.

The tent curtain was pulled open, and the not-so-bright sunlight of Paris sprinkled down, but then the flash came over, instantly engulfing Anson and Winona.

Click.

The smile was frozen in place.

Everything seemed to be carefully designed, just a performance; however, Winona's smile was so natural that it seemed to light up the whole world, and looking at Anson's relaxed and casual appearance, the fixed frame revealed a kind of naturalness, so that the paparazzi in front of them were stunned.

This, is not right, right?

Anson didn't rush to leave, but stood at the entrance of the tent for a while, looking up and looking around. Although the number of media people was not as exaggerated as at the beginning, the long guns and short cannons of the lenses were still very threatening.

Then you could see that there were some figures dressed lightly and ready to start at any time mixed in the crowd, and you could tell at a glance that they were paparazzi.

Anson looked over, turned slightly to approach Winona, "Are those them? Familiar faces?"

Winona subconsciously looked away, "Don't look at them."

Anson also understood that if he deliberately provoked the paparazzi, it would probably be a lose-lose situation; but there was no need to avoid them. Anson looked around generously, "Winona, how long do you think that paparazzi has been in the business? Before becoming a paparazzi, was he a reporter? Or a photographer?"

Winona: ? ? ?

Most people are like this. When facing a general, huge, and magnificent thing, they are often prone to fear, because the power of the individual is ultimately too small; but if they are facing a specific, image-based, independent individual, the fear can be effectively controlled.

Paparazzi are like that.

Imagine yourself facing a group of paparazzi, a group whose number cannot be determined, and the unscrupulous means they represent will also be full of endless possibilities.

But imagine yourself facing a thirty-year-old uncle who is worried about baldness, likes pizza, likes french fries, likes to use extra large amounts of ketchup, and often clumsily spills ketchup on his pants when staking out in the car. Such a specific image is not so scary anymore.

In fact, paparazzi are also people.

Anson raised his chin slightly, "I think he simply likes a certain actress, even obsessed with her, and then imagines that he can get close to her, which is why he became a photographer and then regarded paparazzi as a profession."

"Which actor do you think he likes?"

Winona followed Anson's gaze, and the black shadow slowly became specific, and her thoughts were involuntarily drawn into it, "Uh, Audrey Hepburn?"

Wait, why does something seem a little wrong?