From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The young man walked straight ahead, stopping in front of the tall figure. He sized him up, noting the all-black attire, a black devoid of any other color. Black shirt and black suit, exuding an aura that screamed 'stay away'. Just standing there, he seemed to clear the space around him.

"If you're like this, aren't you blatantly drawing everyone's attention? Not low-key at all, as if you're afraid people won't notice you exist?"

Lucas Wood remained expressionless, setting down the "Lucas Wood" sign he was holding. He lowered his head, surveying the young man's surroundings.

"No luggage?"

As he spoke, he naturally took the young man's backpack.

The young man nodded. "Edgar sent it back. Traveling light, makes it easier to run away."

Lucas muttered inwardly, "Still haven't shaken off the movie habits, always ready to bolt?"

The young man was about to retort, but noticed the subtle change in the surrounding atmosphere. Gazes were shifting over, subtly appraising them.

Slightly flustered, the young man lowered his head, using the shadow of his baseball cap's brim to obscure his face.

"See, it's all you. Standing here, you're like Lucifer, a veritable attention magnet."

Lucas met those gazes with an impassive expression. A quick sweep, and the eyes all darted away, as if standing before Medusa.

"By standing here, I can divert attention. Everyone notices me."

"Moreover, by being serious and a little intimidating, no one dares to meet your gaze, naturally preventing them from carefully scrutinizing your features, making it harder to recognize you."

So that's how it is.

No wonder he went all-black today.

The young man relaxed slightly, casually glancing around. As expected, eyes darted away. Even though they were standing right there, no one dared to look directly at them—

This was a solution, but exclusive to Lucas.

"Actually, you didn't need to pick me up. If you hadn't shown up, I could have landed quietly and gone to your apartment without attracting any attention."

Lucas: "Are you sure?"

Young man: "What do you mean?"

Lucas: "Are you sure you wouldn't attract any attention?"

Young man: ......

He felt a little guilty. He'd almost been recognized by the short-haired girl.

Lucas didn't press the issue, continuing with a matter-of-fact tone, "If you come to San Francisco and I don't pick you up, Mom will find out. I won't have any peace for the next three months."

"Just don't tell Mom."

"... ..."

The young man looked up at the impervious Lucas, reluctantly giving up. "Let's get out of here as soon as possible, before we cause a commotion."

Lucas had no objections.

The two left the arrival hall one after the other. Only after entering Lucas's car did the young man remove his baseball cap, revealing that handsome face—

Who else could it be but Anson.

Anson stayed in New York for two days, and his apartment in Lower Manhattan had already become a gathering place for paparazzi and fans. Crowds were constantly gathering around, making it difficult for Anson to even take a walk in Central Park or have breakfast at a corner coffee shop. Even going to the supermarket was a hassle.

Not only was Anson bothered, but it was also having a negative impact on others.

As a result, Anson didn't dare return to the main house at all, fearing that he would expose his parents' lives and drag them into it, leaving them without peace for the next period of time.

Originally, after the end of the promotional period, Anson wanted to stay in New York for a while. He had been busy and running around all through Christmas and New Year's, and there had been no family gatherings. He wanted to take advantage of the holiday to spend some time with his parents.

But with the current situation, he couldn't get any peace at all.

Thus.

With Edgar's help, Anson slipped away from his apartment, boarded a plane to San Francisco, and temporarily disappeared for a while.

Following Anson's footsteps, the Woods couple would also come to San Francisco tomorrow, and the family of four would take a vacation.

Everything was foolproof, but he didn't expect that he almost exposed himself at the airport. Fortunately, Anson was quick-witted and calmly dealt with it, avoiding a riot at San Francisco Airport.

Vigorously rubbing his hair, the stiff neck was finally able to relax. Anson curled up in the passenger seat, almost collapsing.

Lucas glanced over. "Is that beard you're sporting a deliberate disguise?"

His tone was calm, but Anson could immediately taste the underlying smile.

Anson touched the stubble on his chin. "Don't underestimate this little bit of stubble. I relied on it to deceive people on the plane."

Lucas didn't respond.

Anson said faintly, "Laugh if you want to, it's not good to hold it in."

The corners of Lucas's mouth quietly turned up. Just as he was about to retort, he turned his head and found that Anson had already fallen into a drowsy sleep.

Anson had indeed been exhausted lately.

He had been running around non-stop twenty-four hours a day, either on the road or in the cinema. Even the time for eating and sleeping was squeezed out.

Even Steven Spielberg couldn't stand it anymore, suggesting that the second half of the flash mob event be adjusted, either simplified, reducing some of the events; or he and Tom Hanks would help share the burden and join the promotion.

Anson refused.

"You are welcome to join, anytime you want to come and play together, I will not be absent; but this is the idea I proposed, and I have a responsibility to carry it through to the end."

"It's not just a commitment to the crew, but also to the audience. I need to show up."

It was finally not easy to finish all the publicity, originally thought that he could rest for a while, but was surrounded by the hustle and bustle, and could not sleep peacefully.

Lucas looked closely, and only now did he notice a bluish shadow under Anson's eyes, indicating that he had not rested well recently, otherwise he would not have fallen asleep less than thirty seconds after getting into the car.

He turned on the heating, turned off the radio, and slowed down the car.

The journey was smooth and steady, San Francisco, shrouded in a cloud of mist, completely quieted down, and the noise of the whole world subsided.

In the end, Anson was woken up by hunger.

Dazed, half-dreaming and half-awake, following the milky yellow halo of the desk lamp, he first saw Lucas's profile as he sat busy at his desk, and then saw the clock on the wall:

Nine twenty-three.

He sat up straight and stretched, his bones making a crackling sound, but he didn't want to disturb Lucas.

Lucas waited patiently for Anson to finish stretching. "I thought you were going to sleep straight until dawn."

Anson waved his hand. "My biological clock is still messed up, I can't sleep soundly for too long, and besides, I'm hungry. Do you have anything in your fridge?"

A touch of heartache appeared in Lucas's eyes. The glamour on the stage was really not as good as it looked. "The refrigerator is full of frozen food. Let's go out to eat. Just find a restaurant nearby. You shouldn't be discovered. There's a seafood place near my house that's especially good."

Seafood?

Anson's eyes lit up.

Lucas smiled dumbly. "Wash up and get ready, and we'll go out."