From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

"Never in a million years would I have guessed Anson was like this!"

"What happened to the pretty boy reputation?"

"He looked like the kind of guy who lives by 'sixty points is all I need, anything more is a waste,' but it turns out he's the 'I didn't even study' valedictorian?"

Clearly, they were dissatisfied, especially with Anson, the newbie with the least experience on set, making such a request. The fact that veterans like Christopher and Natalie hadn't objected only heightened the tension.

Undercurrents surged.

If gazes were arrows, Anson was 100% certain his back now resembled a porcupine. Fortunately, Laser Eyes hadn't appeared on the "Catch Me If You Can" set, but the pressure transmitted through their stares still landed silently, a burning sensation on the surface of his skin.

Even Steven gave Anson a meaningful look, laced with a hint of schadenfreude.

His gaze plainly said, "Now you've got what you wanted. Let's see if you can pull a rabbit out of your hat, ha ha."

As the director, Steven was fully aware of what was happening on set, but he wasn't going to interfere, nor did he intend to change his mind—

That morning, during the kitchen scene, Steven had been moved by Anson's performance, but he wasn't willing to alter his camera angles and shooting schedule for the sake of one performance.

And now, Steven still didn't plan to change his shooting schedule, but since Anson and Natalie both suggested they should reshoot, Steven couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he should give Anson a chance?

Anyway, everything was within the planned itinerary, it wouldn't delay the filming progress. Shooting one more take wouldn't hurt, so Steven gave a rare nod of agreement.

So, was it possible that he could also have some expectations?

Anson was absolutely certain that he saw "ha ha" in Steven's eyes. The corners of his mouth, hidden behind his white beard, were clearly twitching in amusement, as if he was waiting for a good show.

Anson hadn't expected that he would one day become the culprit delaying everyone from going home; but Anson didn't overthink it, immediately refocusing his attention, because he knew the only way to prevent things from spiraling further out of control was to give it his all and complete the next take as quickly as possible.

He needed to concentrate.

The calmer Anson became, the more certain he was that his gamble was the right one. He seemed to have truly touched the door to method acting—

He wanted to try.

Slightly adjusting his breathing, Anson calmed down, without hesitation, without doubt, without distraction, not even recalling the lines of the scene, simply immersing himself in an emotion, an emotion somewhere between absent-mindedness and bewilderment, as if returning to the distant memories of his previous life to wander.

After becoming quiet, the world began to become noisy, not because of noise, but the sounds of blood flowing, heart shifting, and breathing adjusting surged upon his eardrums. His tongue seemed to be able to clearly taste those bitterness and confusion, suddenly being dragged into the lake—

The clear and chilling deep blue lake water, just like that, bit by bit, devoured him. He tried to call for help, he tried to search, but the focus of his eyes gradually dissipated, the blurry figures on the shore became increasingly faint, almost swallowed by a blue light, not a single sound could be uttered from his throat.

Fear?

No.

Perhaps there was a little in the depths of his heart, but at this moment there was more of a daze, even forgetting to struggle, letting himself slowly sink.

Where's Dad? Where's Mom?

Who should he call for help to?

Then—

A muffled thunder rumbled, exploding in his ears.

"Action!"

The air, quieted down.

He, he was angry, indeed, before entering this room, anger occupied his brain, like a volcano, erupting continuously.

Recently, he had noticed the changes in his home. His mother had been having various "friends" come to visit. Those uncles always chose to visit when his father wasn't home. They would leave their coats on the sofa in the living room, and when they came out of the room with his mother, they would scrutinize him with a satisfied expression, even giving him gifts.

He felt disgusted.

But he had been avoiding it, never daring to break through that layer of window paper to peek at the truth.

Today, he finally couldn't bear it anymore.

He saw a suit jacket on the living room sofa again. He didn't even want to touch that jacket. He just felt that the clothes were disgustingly dirty, so when he saw the owner of the jacket walking out of the room, he exploded.

Out of control.

However, that "uncle" seemed different from those people before. He didn't leave immediately, but instead asked him to calm down, taking him into the room inside.

An ominous premonition grabbed his heart, he felt as if he was drowning—

The problem was, could a person drown on land?

Chaotic thoughts surged in his mind, and then he entered the room:

Mother. Father. That uncle. And a strange old woman.

Wait, what's going on? What happened here?

Escape.

Every cell in his body was screaming, but he seemed to have lost control of his body, and his anger also froze into ice, confusedly entering the room, sitting down next to his mother, looking at the busyness and chaos in the room with eyes full of panic and confusion, trying to sort out his thoughts, but his brain was blank.

He, just froze there.

What to do? What to do what to do what to do?

The whole world, quieted down.

In front of the monitor, Steven also froze, he didn't even realize that the muscles in his neck and shoulders were frozen in place, staring blankly at the screen, as if he saw himself, when his father and mother told the children at the dining table that they had decided to divorce.

The same panic, the same bewilderment, the same timidity, the same confusion.

On the one hand, he had actually felt the changes long ago, the ominous premonition had always been there.

But on the other hand, he wasn't sure how things had happened this way.

So, was everything just broken like this?

In the lens, Steven saw those eyes, blue and clear eyes, the eye sockets were slightly red, he couldn't see tears, just a little bit red, the pupils were trembling slightly, the focus blurred and dissipated, clearly so quiet, but he could hear the roar of the world falling apart.

Inadvertently, Steven's gaze collided with those eyes through the monitor screen.

Buzz.

Above the eardrums, a roar.

If there really was a god of acting in the world, then at this moment He had descended, a jumble of emotions in one look pouring down like a landslide, more real and richer than any language, any action, any expression, thousands of words just like that hidden in that pool of blue—

Surging. Misty. Boiling. Spreading.

Like the plum rain before the arrival of summer, drizzling, drizzling endlessly, the whole world is plunged into a humid stuffiness.

Nowhere to escape.