From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The world is spinning—

“You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here, Frank, I’ve always been here; but, there are laws, everything in this country has to be legal, so we have to make some decisions.”

His mother was explaining the situation to him.

However, he couldn't concentrate.

He noticed the strange old woman packing her luggage. Why was she packing her luggage? Whose luggage was she packing? And who exactly was she?

The uncle was in the corner talking to his father with a document in hand. What were they discussing? Why didn't his father say something?

The old woman was walking, and the uncle was also walking.

A wave of dizziness hit him, and he felt the whole world was spinning rapidly. Then, all the images and sounds were distorted as if in a funhouse mirror.

His head felt heavy.

He felt like he wanted to throw up.

“Mr. Costner is here for this.”

Costner?

Right, that uncle's name was Costner. He had just introduced himself, but why was his memory so hazy? Who exactly was this uncle?

The uncle said, “Many times, these decisions are made by the court, but it can be very expensive, Frank. People will fight for the children.”

The mother said, “No one will fight!”

“Look at me, Frank, no one will fight!”

The old woman was “gibberish gibberish gibberish,” speaking in a completely incomprehensible language.

The mother stood up and quickly walked towards the old woman, explaining in the strange language as well.

Chaos.

Complete chaos.

He only felt dizzy and couldn't even distinguish who was talking to whom. Countless voices were intertwined, but all the faces were blurred.

Finally, he found an opening and turned to look at his father.

“Dad, what's happening?”

His father sat on the sofa, the lamp beside him illuminating his face. He met his gaze silently, trying to open his mouth to explain, but ultimately couldn't make any sound and just froze in place.

He revealed a hint of pleading: Dad, say something, anything.

However, he didn't get any response, which made his heart sink slowly—

The memories came back. All the hurt and pain came back.

For a moment, he couldn't even tell if he was Little Frank or Anson, whether it was his past life or a film set. The line between reality and illusion was completely blurred, and he was traveling and sinking in the ruins of the river of memories.

His mother's voice came again.

“Do you remember your grandmother, Eve?”

“She arrived this morning.”

Grandmother?

He looked at the completely unfamiliar old woman with a confused expression. He finally understood that they were mumbling in French. So it was French.

Looking into his mother's eyes, he shook his head blankly. His tranquil and well-behaved face was like an angel, his brows relaxed, looking innocently at his mother, quietly observing her, waiting for an answer.

Natalie paused slightly. That gaze lightly landed on her cheek, like a butterfly, but her heart tugged gently.

Because she finally realized that she was destroying a child's world.

So cruel.

However, there was no turning back once the arrow was released. They had no way to turn back.

The words paused lightly on her tongue. Although Natalie was an experienced actress, even she didn't realize that her tone had softened slightly, cautiously, as if protecting a crystal.

“Your father and I are going to get divorced.”

It was said. It was finally said.

He didn't react.

He seemed to have lost his ability to react, just staying there blankly.

What did his grandmother say?

What did his father say? “Nothing will change. We can still see each other.”

The mother interrupted his father, condemning him, “Stop, please, Frank, don’t interrupt.”

He heard everything but couldn't understand what they were saying. He just saw their mouths opening and closing, their voices intertwined.

Then—

Frank?

Was his mother calling him or his father?

Subconsciously, he looked over, past his mother, quietly watching his father, stubbornly and persistently staring, a hint of fragility revealed in the depths of his pupils:

Didn't you say that everything would be alright? Weren't you trying to find a way, that they could overcome the difficulties together? Didn't you say that they would soon be back to normal?

So, what happened?

Christopher's heart skipped a beat. Under the gaze of that look, he shifted his gaze in embarrassment and guilt, lowering his head in fear and unease.

However, it was useless. He could still feel the temperature of that gaze.

No anger, no sadness, no tears, no frowns, just quietly… seeking help, with countless questions waiting to be answered, but taking the initiative to wait without getting any response, just standing there weakly and stubbornly.

Christopher had no way. He really had no way to look directly into those eyes, which were clearly calm without any waves, yet surged and swallowed him.

He had never been so embarrassed.

Fortunately, that uncle, the lawyer, helped a lot.

“You don’t have to read all of these. Most of them are about your parents’ affairs, troubles between adults, but this section… this section is very important.”

“Because it says who you will live with after the divorce. Who will have custody of you after the divorce.”

Those words finally attracted his attention, his gaze falling entirely on the lawyer. However, the good times didn't last long. After the bombshell was dropped, the surging waves in the air could be heard, continuing to spread.

His neck was a little stiff.

Subconsciously, he turned to look at his father, hoping his father could say something, but there was nothing.

Then, his gaze turned to his mother, trying to find something in his mother's eyes, but his mother didn't look directly into his eyes, just looking at the legal document, all her body and mind focused on that document.

She said, “There is a blank space here.”

The grandmother's voice interrupted again. He couldn't see his father's figure anymore, just being surrounded by countless noises, the lawyer babbling.

“You go to the kitchen, sit at the table, and write your father’s or mother’s name…”

Buzz.

Buzzing buzzing.

“There's no need to rush, but when you come back to this room…”

The world was noisy.

The entire film set was silent. No one wanted to interfere with the filming.

Perhaps, Steven was the only exception—

“Front. Close-up.”

He immediately issued instructions to the photographer through the intercom line to the earpiece. He had a premonition, a strong premonition, and subconsciously grabbed it firmly.

He wanted to see those eyes. He wanted to be able to see those eyes head-on.

The photographer decisively turned clockwise from behind and continued forward, cutting to the front, coming to the front, and focusing the lens on Anson's face.

Close-up?

Originally, he was still waiting for Steven's instructions, whether to quickly cut to a close-up or slowly zoom in, but he saw Anson's pupils. Inspiration struck, his scalp tingled, and the lens had already locked onto those eyes, engaging in a “dialogue” through the lens. The world suddenly became quiet.