From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The air was filled with a light and pleasant atmosphere.

Anson's presence effortlessly transformed the ambiance of the room. Even when he was simply sitting beside Edgar, engaged in hushed whispers, bursts of laughter, and knowing glances, the Californian sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to pale in comparison, as he naturally became the focal point.

Some people are just like that.

In a crowded gathering, some quietly retreat to the corners, acting as wallflowers; some remain silent yet effortlessly command attention; and others, surrounded by layers of admirers, engage in lively conversations, playing the lead role. A small space can reveal the myriad aspects of human nature.

Then,

Melvin arrived fashionably late.

The other two contenders were already in position. Melvin strode in, panting slightly, his cheeks flushed, but he took a deep breath to compose himself and methodically began to dress the mannequin before him—

The fitting. Anson wasn't planning to step in personally.

So, the contenders used plastic mannequins to put on the clothes, and according to their own imagination and needs, they used pins and tacks to adjust the lines and proportions, presenting the look they envisioned.

Now, Melvin was in the final stages.

Beside him, Sam glanced at Melvin, ultimately unable to restrain himself.

“Excuse me, but is there no time limit?”

The atmosphere tensed slightly.

An undercurrent of rivalry subtly permeated the air.

Edgar glanced at Anson, who remained smiling but didn't seem inclined to speak. Edgar looked forward and said crisply,

“No.”

Sam: … …

Edgar raised his eyes. “If this gentleman is in a hurry, he is welcome to leave first. We will contact you later with any updates.”

The brief sentence startled Sam.

Anson, the principal, wasn't even anxious, yet the candidate who came to interview was already impatient, making Sam realize he might have made a mistake.

However, he couldn't let Anson misunderstand; he needed to explain himself. He was definitely not petty or narrow-minded.

Sam looked at Anson. “We have already completed our work, but someone arrived late, dragging their feet and wasting time. This is clearly unfair.”

Anson didn't speak—

At this moment, Edgar was the one engaging in conversation, controlling the situation, and resolving the problem. The candidate's action of ignoring Edgar and appealing to Anson implied he didn't think Edgar's words carried enough weight and that Anson ultimately needed to make the decision.

A small detail revealed that this candidate was likely well-versed in the social rules of the arena of fame and fortune.

However, Anson wasn't going to embarrass Edgar.

Edgar was perfectly capable of handling such a minor matter.

Edgar didn't even need to turn his head. Even though the other person's gaze was fixed on Anson, he calmly responded, “If this candidate has any additional details to add, he is welcome to continue working. Don't worry about Anson being here; we are not in a hurry.”

Sam was left hanging, immediately understanding the signal being conveyed. He sheepishly moved his mouth, his words swirling indistinctly in his throat, but he ultimately swallowed them down. He quickly scanned between Anson and Edgar, feeling a surge of frustration.

In that short time, Melvin had also finished his styling.

Melvin could sense the competitive edge, but he didn't want to respond.

Everyone said that the arena of fame and fortune was full of intrigue, and the fashion circle was even worse—this was a fact; but Melvin had never liked playing mind games. He always believed that, compared to scheming, strength and talent were truly important.

Because fashion ultimately needed to be tested by the public.

Assuming he launched a counterattack here, defeated the competitors, and secured the job of personal stylist, then what? After Anson appeared in the clothing and styling he created, it would ultimately need to be scrutinized by the public. Good was good, and bad was bad; it wasn't up to him to decide.

When the day was over, the true strength would ultimately determine the outcome.

This was Melvin's thought—

Of course, such thoughts were not welcome.

Edgar waved his hands repeatedly. “You know me; I have absolutely no concept of fashion. If I get involved, it's likely to be a disaster.”

Anson didn't mind. “Then look at it from the perspective of an outsider who doesn't understand fashion. Which one do you like?”

Edgar glanced at Anson, immediately understanding:

Clearly, Anson had already made a decision.

Edgar was slightly surprised and asked with his eyes, “So fast?” Anson pursed his lips, looking nonchalant, which piqued Edgar's interest.

So, which one had Anson chosen?

What was originally a fashion game instantly became a guessing game, making Edgar much more interested.

Edgar turned his head and looked, but honestly, he was clueless—

Suits. Suits. And more suits.

All three were suits, and they were worn on mannequins, flat and stiff, making it impossible to see any rhyme or reason.

Even with different styles and combinations, Edgar, who had no fashion sense, was at a loss, especially since all he saw were suits?

Honestly, Edgar really didn't know what men's fashion was all about.

But he couldn't say that, because he was preparing to build Anson into a fashion icon.

Taking a deep breath, Edgar cheered himself up:

Suits and suits, what was the difference?

Besides the color.

The three suits in front of him were different colors. The first was dark gray, the second was black, and the third was dark blue.

At least Edgar could see that, but what else?

Anson, sitting beside him, watched Edgar scratching his head and could no longer contain himself. “Haha, Captain, this isn't a guessing game; there's no right answer.”

Edgar looked utterly hopeless, leaned close to Anson's ear, “The third one, the dark blue one.”

Melvin?

Anson, “Why?”

Edgar spread his hands, wearing a mysterious expression. “Intuition.”

The smile in Anson's eyes overflowed.

Just as Anson was about to speak, Melvin silently took a small step forward, took off the suit jacket, and magically produced another jacket from behind him, putting it on the mannequin.

Everyone was stunned.

Sam: … … “Wait, isn't this cheating? How can you do that!”