From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Clap, clap, clap. Clap, clap, clap.

The applause thundered through the room. It was just an ordinary afternoon for the movie crew, yet the cramped apartment space was filled with the joy of creation and a surge of inspiration.

However, Ansen felt suffocated.

Like drowning, he sank slowly and surely, forgetting to resist, until the deep blue lake water surrounded him with icy coldness. The bewitching blue was morphing into inky black, and the colors of the entire world were gradually fading away. Only then did his survival instinct finally awaken, and he struggled to break free.

Run.

"Run, Junior, run."

Involuntarily, he paused.

"Run, Ansen, run!"

Before his brain could react, his body had already taken action.

Amidst the applause and surging emotions, he fled in disarray, bursting out of the apartment.

The applause continued, still surging. The crew members hadn't even realized what was happening. They thought Ansen was going to the bathroom or hugging Steven or something. One by one, they watched Ansen's figure rush out of the apartment door, their gazes unable to hold him, watching helplessly as Ansen disappeared completely.

Clap, clap, clap. Clap, clap, clap.

They clapped their hands while exchanging glances, completely bewildered by what had happened.

The scene: ???

Wait, what's going on? Can someone explain what's happening here?

Huh?

Very unexpectedly, Steven was the first to react, a thought flashing through his mind:

Too deep into the role.

Steven didn't know what Ansen had experienced, but in that instant, he, Ansen, and Junior had their spiritual worlds resonate, breaking the shackles of time and space, and seeing that point in each other.

In the script, the next scene was Junior running away.

Originally, Steven was worried that this scene was too dramatic and might seem contrived and melodramatic, as real life rarely had such tension.

But clearly, he had overthought it.

Junior just wanted to escape, to get far away from here. He didn't want to choose between his father and his mother. He didn't want to face reality. Escape was an outlet and a pause, the only thing he could do.

Involuntarily, Steven also felt a wave of fatigue, a deep fatigue.

He also wanted to escape, not physically, but mentally, to escape those memories, those recollections that had already been submerged in time and could no longer hurt him. He no longer wanted to be bound by them.

However, Steven still controlled himself and immediately shouted, "Catch up with him! Don't let the actor get lost! What are you standing there for? Catch up with him!"

Finally, the crew reacted, realizing that something was wrong.

They looked at each other, not knowing what to do, their minds blank as they rushed out, a barrage of question marks scattered on the ground.

…

When running, he could leave all those troubles behind, and he could completely clear his mind without having to think about those terrible messes, just feeling the power constantly erupting and pushing his body to charge through the waves. That was the only thought.

Everything became simple.

Now, Ansen finally understood Forrest Gump's feelings—

There was nothing, just running.

Whether he was Junior or Ansen, it no longer mattered, because they were both running, both escaping, running far away, until those "facts" could no longer hurt them.

Everything seemed like childhood.

The innocent years, happiness and joy were so simple, not even needing toys or games, just striding out and running, running and running, feeling the adrenaline and dopamine, an instinct and an inertia, releasing nature and embracing freedom.

But he didn't know when that simple happiness could no longer be found.

They began to search, for money, honor, love, power, and achievement, desperately pursuing, but found that the more they chased, the further they got from the past, and the black hole in their hearts was greedily and cruelly devouring all happiness. They clearly possessed everything, but still couldn't fill that hole.

Then, they ran again.

Without purpose, without mission, without end, just purely running, not to chase anything, not even happiness, just running, to return everything to simplicity, to return to childhood, until a certain moment when they no longer wanted to run, and just stopped.

If—just hypothetically, he could run wildly all the way, chasing time, returning to before he was eighteen in his previous life, could he change everything, before the tragedy happened, firmly grasping the throat of fate, saving the family's happiness, could he?

"Run!"

A heart-wrenching cry exploded in his eardrums, sad and desperate, painful and ferocious.

Following the sound, Ansen's heart sank—

It was a woman, disheveled and covered in blood, tightly hugging the leg of a burly, waist-thick man, using all her strength to hold him back, screaming in despair.

The burly man's cheeks were flushed red, his eyes blurred, and even from a distance, the smell of alcohol wafted over him. He held a folded belt in his hand, and drool dripped sloppily onto his plump beer belly, dragging the woman forward as he roared at a figure in front.

"Bastard, I'm going to kill you! Cunt!"

Ahead, a small, thin figure was running wildly, barefoot, his feet covered in wounds, dripping with blood, covered in blood, stumbling and faltering as he ran, but ultimately unable to bear it, finally stopping and turning around, and then he saw the scene in Ansen's view.

"Mom!" The fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy screamed heart-wrenchingly.

The woman hugged the burly man's right leg tightly, "Run, Jack, run! Run! He won't dare do anything to me, run, run as far as you can, don't come back, Jack, don't come back."

The boy took two steps back, but still couldn't convince himself, and stopped again.

Ansen quickly scanned his surroundings. There were no pedestrians, no nosy neighbors. Occasionally vehicles passed by, but no one seemed to notice the scene here.

Or perhaps, even if they noticed, no one was willing to stop.

Ansen quickly fumbled in his pockets, but couldn't find his phone. Only then did he remember that he hadn't brought his phone with him. After all, the movie was set thirty years ago, in an era when the telegram hadn't yet left the historical stage—

What to do?

Then, the burly man roared with a ferocious expression, "If you dare to run, I'll beat her to death."

Before the boy could react, the burly man grabbed the woman's hair, raised his fan-like hand, and slapped the woman hard, almost knocking her unconscious. But that was still not the end. Then, the burly man began to kick the woman's stomach hard, as if he was kicking a burlap sack.

"Run, Jack…run."