From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Anson was stunned, staring silently at the checkbook in his hand.

In his past life, his father had disappeared just like this, vanished without a trace.

Denial. Anger. Argument. Frustration. Acceptance. He had gone through these stages, trying to find excuses for his father, trying to retain a glimmer of hope in his predicament, trying not to be completely swallowed by the darkness, but in the end, he had failed.

Because his father never showed up.

Now, the checkbook in his hand, only fifty pages, felt light and weightless, yet pressed heavily on his chest. He thought he would feel joy, happiness, and strength, but the reality was a mouthful of bitterness.

Uncontrollably, he began to worry about his father—

The bank had already rejected his father's loan application, and now his father was applying for a checkbook. Would this cause trouble for his father? His father said there were twenty-five dollars in the account. Where did that money come from? Should he trust his father?

Conflicting thoughts surged and tugged in his mind.

He was stunned like this, silently staring at the checkbook in his hand, inadvertently revealing a hint of confusion.

In front of the monitor, Steven also slowed his breathing, fearing to disturb the scene before him. Even though Christopher was right there, his gaze couldn't leave Anson.

On him, it wasn't sadness or joy, not struggle or loss, but a kind of bitterness that was difficult to describe in words, gently tugging, with a faint warmth and happiness swelling in his chest like cotton candy.

So, acting has power.

"Here are fifty checks, Little Frank, which means that starting today, you've joined their little club."

Old Frank stood behind him, unable to see Little Frank's expression and thus unable to know his son's thoughts, but he could still see Little Frank's absent-mindedness. He gently applied pressure with his hands on Little Frank's shoulders, pulling the little guy's attention back to reality.

Little Frank turned around, looking at his father.

But his expression had returned to normal, carefully concealing his emotions. The corners of his mouth turned up, rediscovering the spirit of a sixteen-year-old, and a smile slowly bloomed.

"I've joined their little club."

Old Frank nodded slightly, "With checks, you have everything."

Little Frank turned back around, continuing to flip through the checkbook in his hand, "It even has my name on it."

One, then another, watching his name evolve into black font, feeling somewhat magical.

Old Frank, "A meteoric rise."

Little Frank lowered his voice and murmured, "A meteoric rise."

Heh heh.

A soft laugh came from deep in his throat, but it disappeared like smoke in an instant. Silently staring at the checkbook, the upturned corners of his mouth slowly flattened, and the focus of his gaze gradually dissipated on the checkbook.

Conflicting and weak emotions flickered slightly in those azure blue eyes.

Even though he didn't speak or have a conversation, the halo filling those eyes completely silenced the entire room, letting thoughts soar in his imaginary world.

They could feel a storm approaching, the world teetering, but they just held on tightly to the momentary glimmer of dawn in front of them, repeatedly convincing themselves that this was hope, this was a turning point, everything would be alright, their worries wouldn't turn into reality, they should have positive and optimistic thoughts.

But in the brief moment when the smile bloomed at the corner of his mouth, his eyes and soul solidified—

Involuntarily lost in thought.

The whole place was silent.

Even the trivial sounds of air flow seemed to have completely disappeared.

"Cut!"

Until Steven spoke, breaking the silence.

The sound of a long exhale could be heard in the space, the airflow surging, but quickly calming down, silently hiding in the depths of his brain.

Steven was no exception.

He had a brief daze, because he saw his past self in that look. He had also experienced all of that, he had also faced those confusions, those complexities and vulnerabilities. He thought no one would ever understand.

But he was wrong.

Involuntarily, Steven looked at Anson again, savoring that look—

So, a look can really hide a world.

Steven was startled by his own thoughts. He wanted to capture that look again, leaving space for Little Frank to show his psychological changes.

However, Steven still stepped on the brakes in time, controlled himself, and extinguished the idea.

It's not that Anson wasn't good. In fact, Anson's performance was really too outstanding, and his interactions with Christopher were able to show the levels of emotion; but precisely because of this, Steven needed to stop there.

Steven wasn't good at capturing brilliant acting moments in the first place. His strength wasn't here; he still focused on the audio-visual effects of the film presentation. From this perspective, he shouldn't let the acting break the smoothness of the narrative.

Especially in commercial films.

Everything needs to be just right. If you don't know restraint and don't know the limits, it will be a disaster.

Anson's performance was very good just now, very good. The camera had already captured it, so he shouldn't be greedy, continue to sculpt, continue to capture. Stop when it's good, and let this shot stay in this state.

Steven was still experienced, controlling himself in time, but he couldn't help but admire Anson's performance, which was indeed eye-catching.

"The youthfulness of a teenager and the maturity of vicissitudes", is it possible for two completely different textures to be intertwined?

Phew.

Steven exhaled softly. He knew that all the staff were waiting for him to give orders. He quickly calmed down, "This camera position is fine, next camera position."

One take!

In the narrow room, glances were exchanged quietly. It was not common, even in Steven's crew, for such a difficult scene to pass in one take; but what was wonderful was that no one found it strange. More amazement and excitement surged in their eyes, uncontrollably elated.

And Anson?

Slightly dazed, faintly tired, even after the filming was over, he still seemed a little distracted.

It was hard to imagine that even though he hadn't done any aerobic exercise, he felt tired, as if he could feel the consumption of energy, but he couldn't accurately describe it.

Then, a call came from the front.

"Anson!"

Anson suddenly raised his head, looking in the direction of the voice, and immediately saw Steven's calm face. He thought Steven had instructions for the filming of the next camera position, and quickly gathered his thoughts and regained his attention.

Steven paused for a moment.

"Your performance was very wonderful just now."

After saying that, Steven also gave a thumbs up, but didn't linger any longer, turning around and getting busy with the staff. He could see many staff members also smiling at Anson and giving a thumbs up. Although there were no words, he could still feel the change in the atmosphere.

Some joy, some elation.

Anson was slightly stunned, and before he could react, Christopher patted him on the shoulder, "Good job, keep it up."

A smile lingered at the corner of his mouth for a while, and finally turned upwards.

So, this is the taste of acting?