From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Serenity, seclusion.

This isn't common in Los Angeles, as it's surrounded by desert. The most common sight in the city is palm trees, their towering trunks seemingly holding up the world. Their sparse branches and leaves offer little resistance to the sun's rays, making it very difficult to see a forest.

But here, dense trees stretch out in a staggered formation, and looking in from the street, one can only see large swathes of refreshing green. All the hustle and bustle, all the noise, is blocked out of the world.

Go straight, turn right, then straight again, turn left.

And then...

The view suddenly opens up.

Before them is a small fountain, a statue of Bacchus in a libertine pose, pouring emerald-green spring water into the pool. One could almost hear birdsong.

This made Edgar pause slightly. Birds singing?

No, it must be an illusion. It's probably just the sea breeze gently dancing in his ears.

At a glance, Edgar spotted Anson's familiar Aston Martin. He parked his Ford in the adjacent parking space, got out, and walked towards the gate.

Pushing open the gate, Edgar felt his eyes weren't enough to take it all in. For a moment, he didn't know whether to admire the boundless sea view at the end of the hall, or the two-story high lobby, or the carved staircase spiraling upwards on the left. He felt a sense of dazzling chaos.

"Hey, Captain."

A voice came from his ear. In a dizzying moment, Edgar grabbed onto the lifeline, turned his head, and saw Anson coming down from the second floor, like a superstar making an entrance. Only then did he realize he had been holding his breath, and he quickly took a deep breath.

Anson noticed and smiled, "Don't be nervous. I'm the same as you; I still haven't gotten used to it. I always feel like a guest."

"So, I want to tell you not to be polite, to treat this place like your own home, but I can't bring myself to say it."

A small joke successfully helped Edgar regain his composure.

Taking a deep breath, Edgar also smiled, "This is a start. You'll get used to it slowly."

Anson's footsteps reached the first floor, "It's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but difficult to go from luxury to frugality. Hopefully, we won't have to worry about the future."

Johnny Depp, despite earning a considerable income, declared bankruptcy in 2017 because he spent two million dollars every month, along with countless inexplicable daily expenses. Almost all of the six hundred and fifty million dollars he earned over his decade-long career was squandered.

Moreover, Johnny isn't the first, and he certainly won't be the last.

Edgar had seen too much of this in Hollywood and couldn't help but smile, "Have you already started worrying about the future just after moving into the mansion?"

Anson shrugged slightly, "And that's without seeing the first month's bills."

"Haha." Edgar was also amused and couldn't help but look around again, "This decoration, simple and elegant, seems a bit younger than I imagined. Did the construction team leave it like this, or is it the style of the previous owner?"

"The previous owner. But in fact, my father isn't satisfied with this decoration; he's planning to do it himself." Anson himself had no understanding of interior design or decoration, so his opinion wasn't important.

In fact, Charles's original words were: Don't rush, wait for me to do it myself.

The Johnny Depp project might take some time, but Charles had already started conceiving ideas for Anson's residence. He planned to stay in Los Angeles for a while.

Nora also indicated that she would come over to help as soon as she finished her work.

Seeing Charles and Nora both preparing to come to Los Angeles, Lucas was also eager to join.

"Yes. I like it very much." Anson didn't beat around the bush and directly cut to the chase.

Despite being busy during this time, looking at houses and moving, and even taking the time to attend the premiere of "Suspicion," without a moment to breathe; Anson still took the time to carefully read the script for "The Butterfly Effect"—

As expected, he liked it very much.

Slightly different from the feeling of watching the movie in his previous life, reading the script now meant a completely new project, allowing Anson to freely develop it according to his own imagination.

The same story, but with a different way to unfold it.

This was interesting, unlike any project he had worked on so far.

Edgar's eyes lit up, "I knew it!"

Anson gestured for Edgar to sit down, "What would you like to drink? Although I just moved in, Lucas helped me fill the refrigerator and wine cabinet before he left."

"Milk?" Edgar gave an unexpected answer. Anson turned his head to look, and he explained, "I had a hangover last night; I'm not quite in shape right now."

Anson laughed, "I understand."

Watching Anson enter the open kitchen, Edgar continued to ask loudly, "So, are you willing to take on this project?"

"Of course." Anson's voice came from the kitchen, holding a carton of milk and a… whiskey glass as he walked over. Noticing Edgar's surprised expression, he had to explain, "The utensils are still waiting to be restocked. Honestly, I don't think there's any difference."

Edgar laughed directly, "At least it's not a champagne glass."

Anson spread his hands, "There are no champagne glasses for now. You can't try even if you want to."

Edgar looked at the milk poured into the whiskey tumbler, and his mood inexplicably relaxed, "Actually, I've contacted the two screenwriters."

"Two?" Anson asked.

Edgar nodded, "This script was written jointly by two screenwriters, and they are also preparing to co-direct, but precisely because of this, they are facing some difficulties, because neither of them has any directing experience."

Like actors, screenwriters, directors, producers, and so on are the same. If it's their first time, they often face challenges, the first step being:

Finding investment.

If it were George Clooney, that would naturally be another matter. Later, when George transitioned to directing, he could easily attract investment, and then call upon a group of seasoned actors to hold the fort. Even if it was his first time directing, it wouldn't matter; his name was a golden brand.

But how many George Clooneys are there?

Sure enough.

Edgar continued, "They still haven't found an investor. I didn't mention who I was an agent for, but I told them I was confident I could find an investor, and they seemed very excited."

Anson looked up and saw Edgar looking over with a beaming smile.

"Me?" Anson said.

Edgar nodded, "If your name is linked to this project, believe me, it won't take a day before producers become interested."

Edgar seemed very confident.

Anson shook his head, "I don't think so. Although I have achieved some success now, Hollywood still has doubts about my box office appeal."

"'Spider-Man' relied on the aura of superheroes and the original comic books, not me."

"If it were Brad Pitt? Of course, no problem; but if it's me, it might still take some effort."

"The key is, do I need to be a producer?"

"Now, that's a different story."