From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Hesitation. Struggle. Pulling.

Melvin knew that he was standing at the door like an idiot, still hesitant and unable to make a decision.

However, he was always like this.

Before making a decision, he hesitated repeatedly, constantly questioning himself and constantly overturning himself, which required a process; once he made up his mind, he never looked back and went all the way to the end wholeheartedly.

So, family and friends always said that he was too extreme.

But, he was just like that.

Now, it's the same.

On the one hand, he told himself that this was indeed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and perhaps Anson-Wood could become a brand new turning point in his career.

On the other hand, he couldn't help but worry that this change might ruin all his efforts and put himself in a predicament that he couldn't get out of.

Then.

"Hey, watch out."

From a distance, across half a street, came a sunny reminder. Immersed in his own thoughts, Melvin was completely caught off guard and didn't have time to react, even unsure if the other party was calling him.

Subconsciously, like a turtle, he shrank his head and bared his teeth, waiting for the danger to arrive.

But.

Nothing, nothing happened.

Melvin: ? ? ?

So, watch out for what, a UFO?

The stiff muscles relaxed, Melvin was finally able to control his body and turned his head to look over, and immediately saw a… football rolling halfway and stopping.

Wait, a football?

Can anyone explain why a football would appear here?

Raising his head, Melvin was about to look around when he saw a figure—

Young, energetic, a bright smile blooming perfectly at the corner of his mouth, sweating profusely, cheeks flushed, golden sunlight like a mischievous little elf shuttling and playing hide-and-seek between the golden-brown curly hair, the world suddenly lit up, blooming right in front of him.

Involuntarily, Melvin forgot to continue searching, his gaze naturally following the figure's movement.

"Sorry."

"I didn't control my strength just now, and it went off course. There was almost an accident. Are you okay?"

Bright, light.

He shouted, that smile made people unable to look away but unable to look directly at it.

Finally, Melvin came back to his senses and waved his hands repeatedly to indicate that he was fine.

"That's great, can you throw the football over?"

Shouting from afar, bathed in the sunlight like Apollo, Melvin was slightly stunned, thinking about what he should do—

Football? He's not familiar with it.

More precisely, all sports have nothing to do with him.

So, how should the football be thrown?

Just in that brief moment of hesitation, the figure didn't continue shouting, but took action directly, jogging closer, coming towards him.

His footsteps stopped not far in front, and he picked up the football himself.

"Sorry, obviously, there was almost an accident just now. I shouldn't have let you pick up the ball. It would have been fine for me to run two steps. Haha, look, things are much simpler."

As he spoke, he gently tossed the football and caught it again.

Melvin finally found his voice, "I wanted to help, but honestly, I know nothing about football. I don't know what to do."

"Haha, I don't know either. I'm just playing around here, just messing around. Shh, keep it a secret, I'm playing football as baseball. This is our secret, there's no need to tell others."

Looking at the face in front of him, a smile couldn't help but creep onto Melvin's lips again.

Without waiting for Melvin to speak, the figure didn't intend to stay any longer and turned to leave. Melvin was a little anxious and couldn't help but call out.

"Anson…"

The person in front of him was Anson.

Logically speaking, in the past short half-year, Anson's exposure rate was unbelievable. The entire North America was covered with that handsome face. The audience who hadn't seen "Spider-Man" were in the minority. It was conceivable that they had seen Anson's different faces.

However, Anson at this moment was still unfamiliar and still made people's eyes light up.

A San Francisco 49ers jersey, a pair of white sports shorts, skateboard shoes with long socks, exuding youthful vigor and vitality, not like Peter Parker, the nerd, nor like the gentleman in fashion magazines.

The same face, but the temperament was subtly different.

At first sight, Melvin had already left a deep impression, and inspiration surged.

However, stopping Anson, Melvin's brain went blank. He didn't know what he should say, it was just a subconscious action.

Then, Melvin squeezed out words from his throat.

"Styling, work, are you ready…"

Keywords popped out one by one, and Melvin didn't know what he was talking about.

But Anson actually understood, "The interview for the personal stylist job, right? It's inside, it's in progress. You can just push the door open and go in."

Melvin: ? ? ?

What does that mean?

The protagonist of the personal styling job is right in front of him, the protagonist with the power to make the decision is right in front of him—playing football, how is the interview going inside, does it really not matter, who should he style?

Looking at Anson in front of him, Melvin was completely confused; however, Anson didn't stop and had already ran back to continue playing catch with another figure.

Leaving Melvin standing there alone, disheveled in the wind.

Uh, so… what to do?

Melvin stood there blankly for a moment, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards Anson—

He swore that he had no interest in any ball games or any sports. Not to mention participating, he didn't even have the interest to watch.

In his childhood, his father had always looked forward to playing catch with him, which seemed to be the romantic fantasy of most American fathers; but he wasn't interested at all, and after two attempts ended in wrestling, his father finally gave up trying in despair.

But at this moment, Melvin finally understood that the pleasing scene in front of him was not a face or a figure, but a return to the original instinct, running, exerting force, confronting, a passion burning in the air, mobilizing adrenaline, to feel the rhythm of life's pulse.

Then, Melvin turned and pushed the door open—

Don't get me wrong, he still had no interest in sports, only because of Anson, because Anson showed a completely different temperament and charm.

He thought, maybe he should give himself and Anson a chance to try.

So, before he could react, Melvin was already standing indoors.

A standard boutique, with the fitting room in the center, surrounded by a circular clothes rack with a dazzling array of clothes hanging on it.

Moreover, the scale was somewhat large.

One layer, two layers, three layers… If you're not careful, you can't count them, because the colors of the clothes all collide together, making you dizzy.

Roughly speaking, there were at least seven or even eight layers.

Like a maze.

At this time, there were already two people busy inside, seemingly picking out clothes.

Wait, there are competitors?

Eddie didn't tell him about this.