From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Sitting down, the red sofa opened its bloody maw and swallowed Anson whole, leaving only his golden head, like a mushroom.

However, Anson did not resist. He quietly sat on the sofa, awkwardly and stiffly curled into a ball, looking up at the ceiling, his mind blank—

It wasn't that he had no thoughts.

On the contrary, his mind was full of too many thoughts, a myriad of ideas surging up all at once, making it impossible to sort them out.

Disordered thoughts, one after another, popped up, but they disappeared before they could even unfold, like a tangled ball of yarn, losing the thread as he searched, and finally falling into a blank space.

No sadness, no loss, no pain, no irritability, no anger.

Nothing at all, just a blank space.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, patiently waiting, waiting for Mr. Russ's scolding.

Time stood still at this moment.

Harris watched the camera lock onto Anson, the image completely fixed, motionless, watching time flow潺潺 on Anson's shoulder.

No movement, no expression, just Anson's profile, yet it was inexplicably sad, like a butterfly gently perched on a flower.

Golden sunlight sprinkled on the butterfly's wings, flowing brightly and brilliantly, so dazzling yet so fragile, that a slight touch could shatter it, so he held his breath, kept his distance, and dared not approach easily.

Alex awkwardly turned his head and hurriedly rubbed his eyes.

Eric noticed, but he didn't move.

Eric stared intently and quietly at the blond boy not far away—

He understood, he understood everything.

Those trivial worries, those heavy emotions, those faint sorrows, were not earth-shattering disasters, nor were they the pain of life and death. To those truly in dire straits, their worries seemed insignificant, even too shameful to speak of.

But they were real.

Like a潺潺 stream, gentle, slow, and quietly flowing, flowing over ankles, over calves, over knees, silently dragging the body into the water, and by the time they realized the water had submerged their chest, it was too late, and then they遁入 into a deep blue along with the flowing water.

An unfathomable deep blue.

He tried to breathe, tried to struggle, tried to shout, but had no strength.

Sometimes, he wondered, was there no end to youth?

He was so tired of seventeen, why was seventeen so long, never seeing the end, he might never get out of this haze.

Slowly, slowly disappearing.

That blond boy was him, yet not him, just another weak soul trapped in youth.

Eric blinked, he thought he would cry.

But he didn't.

His eyes were dry, no tears, no warmth, nothing at all.

Only a blankness.

The camera, like time, and like their seventeen years, froze in place, motionless.

One second, two seconds…

Thirty seconds, sixty seconds…

Gus watched the monitor intently, watching Anson breathing quietly on the sofa, without any words or actions, but the character and story in front of him began to breathe, and everything suddenly came to life.

This was the movie moment—

Breaking time and space, getting rid of plot and lines, letting the camera and actors collide, allowing the audience to breathe with the camera, feeling the heartbeat.

Audiences often like explosions, whether it's the energy released by the plot, the performance, or the computer special effects; but what really tests the director is the moments that slow down, calm down, and feel the pulse.

An atmosphere. A state.

Finally, Gus waited.

The whole place was silent, just watching Anson's breathing on the sofa.

In fact, Anson was only stunned for a moment, completely unaware of the passage of time, briefly wandering out of his mind, letting his thoughts spread in the void, letting his body fall into the abyss.

And then.

Without warning, he regained his thoughts, and Anson returned to reality.

He adjusted his posture, tried to straighten his back, and looked calmly at Mr. Russ.

Anson thought Mr. Russ would speak.

But he didn't.

Mr. Russ crossed his arms, leaned against the desk, and looked at Anson.

Neither of them spoke.

Mr. Russ could notice the unease and trepidation in Anson's eyes, hidden quietly beneath the calm. The words that were already on the tip of his tongue were ultimately swallowed back, and a hint of helplessness appeared between his brows.

Mr. Russ straightened up, lowered his arms, then turned and went back behind the desk, standing behind the chair, his expression somewhat helpless and troubled.

After struggling for a moment, Mr. Russ still looked at Anson.

"Go to class."

"But, don't be late for detention after school again."

Harris's camera focused on Mr. Russ.

Outside the camera, Anson struggled to stand up, still immersed in his own thoughts, his footsteps heavy as he passed in front of the camera, his eyes always on the ground, nodding almost imperceptibly, not knowing if he had heard.

Harris's camera naturally followed Anson's footsteps and moved away from Mr. Russ's office.

As soon as he walked out, he could notice Anson taking a deep breath to regain his attention, seemingly returning to normal—

The teacher's office was full of people, teachers and students.

"Excuse me, ma'am, we need to sign out."

Right in front was a campus celebrity couple. If Anson remembered correctly, the boy was on the school's football team, and many girls had crushes on him.

Obviously, Anson didn't want to attract any attention.

What to do?

Anson looked up and scanned around, finding a clumsy excuse to cover himself, "Hey, where was that photo taken?"

Anson pointed to the landscape photo on the wall, asking the busy teacher.

"Hawaii. On Maui."

Anson was a little uncomfortable, adjusting his hair and clothes, trying to hide his embarrassment, deliberately looking at the photo again with admiration, "Wow, beautiful!"

The teacher noticed Anson's abnormality.

She walked over, "Need any help?"

Anson paused, suddenly remembering, "Yes," he took out a bunch of keys from his pocket, "These keys, my brother will come to pick them up later."

Teacher, "Okay."

Anson, "He'll be here around eleven thirty."

The teacher took out a kraft paper envelope, "Put it in the envelope and write your brother's name on it."

"Luca, oh, Lucas, his name is Lucas."

The camera, quietly moving forward—

Leaving Anson.

Harris pushed forward all the way, moving horizontally, taking in the entire teacher's office, the others still talking and busy.

"Cut!"

Gus's voice came, breaking the silence, but there was no sound in the entire space, the heart stopped beating.

Could it be, another NG?