From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Confident and composed, exuding a debonair charm, every gesture and movement revealed an air of graceful elegance. The corners of his lips curved upward, his eyes sparkled, effortlessly capturing attention.

In that brief moment, time seemed to pause, like a butterfly alighting on the gentle curve of his lips. Light and shadow recorded the stunning instant, causing one to hold their breath.

One had to admit, Anson was handsome.

And it was this brief encounter that naturally made one want to trust him—

Indeed, ultimately, people are visual creatures.

Even if he said the Earth was flat and the sun was cold, one would willingly believe him.

Moreover, he didn't; he was merely introducing himself.

"...I'm Allen, Barry Allen, from the U.S. Special Affairs Bureau. Your boy just tried to escape out the window, but my partner apprehended him."

He began by spreading his hands, then casually slipped one into his pocket, leaning slightly against the desk, his slender legs crossed, revealing the full charm of his suit.

Imperceptibly, the initiative shifted into his hands.

"I mean, come on."

"He's also here forging government checks. We tracked him down based on this one."

Little Frank took his hands out, stood up, and began rummaging through the desk.

His unhurried, calm demeanor finally convinced Karl.

Out of the corner of his eye, Little Frank could see that Karl's arm was still straight, the gun aimed, but his feet had involuntarily begun to shorten the distance—

Stepping forward, raising his chin, Karl tried to examine the items on the desk.

...Opportunity?

If he were to knock away Karl's handgun at this moment, what would be the odds of a successful escape?

The thought flashed through his mind.

He didn't want to risk it.

His fingertips calmed down slightly, successfully locating his "evidence" on the desk. Instead of relaxing, his nerves tensed completely.

While saying, "It's been several months"; the muscles in his left arm were fully taut, not preparing to attack, but constantly monitoring Karl's every move, closely observing changes in his expression and actions.

Closer.

Even closer.

He looked up at Karl, raised his left hand, gently but firmly spreading his palm, making a gesture of obstruction, a look of seriousness between his brows.

"Would you mind taking the gun off my face?"

"Come on. Really. I'm serious, it's making me very nervous."

Karl looked up, realizing that he had unknowingly stood in front of the other man. He quickly backed away again, creating a safe distance.

However, the other man made no move to resist, which reassured Karl slightly, but he still didn't relax his vigilance, keeping the other man firmly in his sights.

"Let me see your credentials."

Karl remained vigilant, not getting drawn in by the stranger in front of him.

Little Frank: Damn it.

After so much groundwork and effort, he still hadn't distracted the other man. In the end, it still came down to the crucial moment: identification.

But Little Frank didn't panic. Not only that, but he even displayed a calm smile. "Of course."

Perfectly natural.

With a turn, Little Frank reached into his pocket, rummaging without hesitation or pause. Any hesitation could lead to exposure, so he simply went a step further and handed over his wallet.

"Just take my whole wallet."

Without hesitation, Karl naturally accepted the wallet.

Little Frank's internal alarms blared: What to do? What to do? What to do?

Once the wallet was opened, the whole scam would be exposed, and he would have already missed his chance to escape.

But the more it was like this, the more he needed to remain calm.

Little Frank recalled his father's trick: Divert attention.

Old Frank often joked that the reason the New York Yankees were always able to win was because their zebra-striped uniforms distracted their opponents.

Step one, "You want my gun too? Go ahead, take my gun."

This was to lure the enemy in deep, but it was also a complaint, a protest, an appeal.

However, it didn't work—

Karl was still holding the gun in his right hand, aiming at Little Frank, while trying to open the wallet with his left hand to check the identification.

The detail was that there was a button on the outside of Little Frank's wallet to prevent the contents from falling out, and now that button was fastened.

The button wasn't very secure, but it was a little difficult for Karl to open it with one hand.

Seeing that Karl was about to lose patience, the next step might be to have Little Frank open it directly, or to suspect Little Frank's intention in giving him the whole wallet.

Step two, "Hey!"

Little Frank quickly scanned the scene, trying to find other targets to divert attention. In the blink of an eye, he didn't even have a second to think, it was only a millisecond, he had to be bold and decisive.

Then, he saw it—

A risky move.

"Hey, do me a favor, look out the window."

Little Frank called out repeatedly, finally catching Karl's attention. He even took the initiative to pull open the curtains, respectfully making an introduction for Karl.

"Look, my partner is escorting him into the car."

Karl didn't believe it.

Karl remained vigilant, taking a step towards the window but not looking outside, his gaze fixed on the "Barry Allen" in front of him, watching to see what tricks he was playing. His face was expressionless as he stared at Barry, as if trying to expose a magician's spoiler.

"Barry" seemed completely oblivious to Karl's unusual alertness, looking out the window wholeheartedly. "Look."

This action finally convinced Karl.

Karl cautiously looked out the window, not lingering, and immediately turned his head to look at Barry.

Barry seemed to still not notice Karl's unusual vigilance, a smile appearing on his lips, gently shaking his head, casually joking, "When I came in, the old guy almost wet his pants. He jumped straight from this window onto my car."

Details—what gives a lie its power are always the details.

Karl still didn't believe it, but he needed to verify it, because outside the window, you could indeed see a person escorting another person into a car, and that person was trembling and unsteady on his feet, looking almost unable to stand.

Wait, things seemed to make sense, but there seemed to be something wrong, but what exactly was wrong?

Karl began to ponder.

This expression fell into Little Frank's eyes, and he knew that he was halfway to success, but many times lies are often exposed right here—

Outside the window, there was indeed a person escorting another person, but it was definitely not "Barry Allen's" partner escorting a fraudster, but Mr. Murphy, who lived in another room on the same floor, and his son, who had come to take him home.

Mr. Murphy had lived here for some time, and Little Frank had chatted with him a few times. He knew that the old man had chronic knee problems, and living in a sunny place was for recuperation. Before the FBI agents came to the door today, they had greeted each other at the stairwell.

Magic, in fact, is often not that mysterious. It's just a sleight of hand. The real key has always been the magician. He needs to divert attention, he needs to keep talking, keep performing, keep interfering with the line of sight—

Magic is also a performance.

Just like now, Little Frank needs to put on a magic show in front of the FBI agent.