From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

"Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon."

The film crew was bustling, having rented an entire motel for shooting. Everyone present on set was a member of the crew—

Including the extras.

In Hollywood, being an extra is a professional job. Although they don't have agents, they maintain steady contact with casting companies, ensuring a continuous stream of work, making them semi-professionals.

Therefore, when they see top stars like Steven Spielberg or Tom Hanks on set, they remain calm, without cheering, crowding, or asking for photos and autographs, maintaining their composure.

Of course, gossip is inevitable.

Seeing Anson, the protagonist of the recent negative headlines, one or two exchanged glances, and the atmosphere subtly shifted.

But Anson appeared particularly confident and relaxed—

The reason was Little Frank.

From a timeline perspective, Little Frank was currently at the peak of his success, repeatedly forging checks and effortlessly juggling multiple beautiful women, as if ascending to the pinnacle of life, completely unaware that his "small-time antics" were already being watched by the FBI.

Because of this, Little Frank was confident, striding forward with his head held high, the wind at his back, feeling as if he could embrace the whole world with open arms.

Anson was familiar with this. In his previous life, he was like that before the age of twenty-five, naively believing that the future belonged to him, omnipotent and invincible, confident that he could move the earth with a long enough lever.

Now, Anson was exploring and entering this state.

He understood that he was still a beginner on the path of acting, everything was unfamiliar and fresh. He often might not be able to accurately grasp the measure and feeling, still needing some time for adjustment and practice.

So, from the very beginning, Anson had been subtly adjusting his state—

A clumsy bird flies early.

At this moment, even as the gazes from all directions on the set scrutinized him, Anson "filtered" out those negative emotions, basking in the attention as if it were a sunbath, naturally assuming it was focus and concern, the attention he deserved, and that being high-profile was reasonable.

His steps were light and confident, even slightly larger than usual, allowing the entire forward posture to display some youthful vitality.

—Slightly eager.

Then, he saw Tom Hanks.

"Good afternoon, Tom," he greeted first.

Unlike Anson, Tom seemed very relaxed, as if strolling in his backyard, a toothpick in his mouth, as if he had just eaten. He wore a dark brown suit, but the buttons on his shirt and suit were all undone. The air of sloppiness and leisure perfectly matched the lazy California afternoon sun, making people want to lie down.

This was indeed far from the rigid, dignified, and serious Tom in his memory.

Or rather, approachable?

Tom was chatting with a staff member. When he saw Anson, his expression brightened, "Hey, Golden Boy, finally, finally this day has come."

Right off the bat, a little joke.

Anson was about to respond, but Tom deliberately winked exaggeratedly.

"God, you better not throw up later. I really can't take that kind of scene anymore, please have mercy on my poor heart."

Wait, this? The subtext was clearly mocking Anson, suggesting he might throw up due to nervousness about the scene. Obviously, Tom wasn't prepared to clean up Anson's mess.

Tom Hanks? The nice guy in the public eye was actually a tyrant on set?

This…

No way?

If Anson had been nervous, he probably would have thrown up for real.

Tom teased Anson about not throwing up due to nervousness, and Anson retorted, asking if Matt Damon had thrown up when he collaborated with Tom on "Saving Private Ryan"?

A back-and-forth.

Tom was clearly stunned for a moment, opened his mouth to try to reply, but then slammed on the brakes and controlled himself. Looking at Anson again, he revealed a smile, returning to his usual familiar appearance, his eyebrows and eyes becoming gentle and kind. He raised his right index finger, pointing at Anson while gently shaking his head.

"Good one, you're digging a hole for me to jump into."

"I don't care about those gossips between you and Matt. You young people can love each other however you want, don't drag this old man into the water, I don't want to get involved."

A fox, still a fox. Tom immediately understood the deeper meaning in Anson's words.

But similarly, Anson could also understand Tom's position behind his words—

Although not explicitly stated, it seemed that Tom and Matt had a good personal relationship. A casual "love-hate relationship" dragged Anson in as well, the subtext being that he believed Matt was the victim, and that the matter between Anson and Winona was not so simple.

Of course, Tom didn't mean to accuse him. This viewpoint was very subtle, inadvertently leaking out from between the lines.

Originally, Anson was just casually teasing, and it would have been fine if he hadn't noticed this subconscious bias, but now that he had, he couldn't ignore it.

Therefore.

Anson raised his hands, making a gesture of surrender, "At most, you're just observing and discussing a few words, but I was inexplicably dragged into it. A shrimp watching whales fight, obviously no one cares about my feelings, I don't even have a microphone."

Tom was stunned, his eyebrows slightly raised.

He understood.

Tom didn't want to interfere, after all, those things had nothing to do with him, but on second thought, he couldn't resist, "Aren't you and Winona friends?"

"Do you think a puppet has the right to speak at Paris Fashion Week?" Anson replied.

Light, but sharp.

People have forgotten a key point:

Paris Fashion Week, the Chanel show.

Clearly, Anson had no say.

The invitation was obtained temporarily two days before the Dior show, his attendance was accompanied by Anna Wintour, and the seating arrangement was designated by Karl Lagerfeld.

From beginning to end, Anson and Winona's encounter was a coincidence.

So, the truth was so simple.

Tom chewed on it carefully, and couldn't help but reveal an interested expression.

He had witnessed Anson's charm, which was why he agreed with Anson playing the role of Little Frank; but today, he had a new understanding of Anson's calmness and wisdom, and the balance in his heart subtly shifted a little.

Looking at Anson again, Tom's eyes had a hint of playfulness, "Pinocchio has the right to speak."

Anson spread his hands, "So, how do you see the state of my nose?"

If Pinocchio lies, his nose will grow longer.

Anson's sentence was asking, did he lie?

"Ha." Tom couldn't help but laugh, carefully looking at Anson again, laughing even more happily, "Hahaha."

It must be said that Anson was indeed a character, just this wit and humor were remarkable.

Tom now finally truly understood why Jeff Robinov looked at Anson with such favor. It was definitely not easy to get the approval of these old foxes—

Including himself, who was also in the ranks of the old foxes.

Involuntarily, Tom began to look forward to today's filming.

"I was just worried that you were nervous, but now it seems that I was being presumptuous."