From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Snap.

A hand grabbed the elevator door, and a flurry of hot, fragmented panting sounds came from outside, like a zombie, successfully causing the air to momentarily stagnate just before the elevator doors were about to close.

Wait, could it be the doorman?

Scarlett Johansson was slightly taken aback: This is…

She suddenly looked up.

Then, Scarlett saw Anson's handsome face, still with that familiar faint curve at the corner of his mouth, his eyes rippling with a faint halo—

A completely unexpected encounter.

Obviously, not only Scarlett didn't expect it, but Anson didn't either.

Their eyes met, and after a brief moment of surprise and accident, they tacitly revealed a smile, the laughter stirring and swirling low in their chests.

Scarlett straightened up, entered the elevator, nodded lightly to Anson, and after pressing the floor button, retreated to another corner, occupying opposite corners, standing against the wall.

Gazes. Intertwining, secretly sizing each other up.

Neither of them spoke, as if they were filming a spy movie, but whether it was "The Bourne Identity" or "Mr. \u0026 Mrs. Smith" was unknown.

Seeing Anson, Scarlett gradually understood that it wasn't actually surprising—

The news of "Elephant" being nominated for the main competition at Cannes had spread all over the internet; however, the global premiere of "Elephant" was scheduled for the third day, but Anson arrived in Cannes a day early, so it shouldn't be just to promote the movie, could it be that Anson has other activities scheduled?

And Anson was guessing the real reason Scarlett came to Cannes—

If he remembered correctly, Scarlett didn't have any works nominated for Cannes, not in any category; could it be because of "Lost in Translation"? Anson remembered that "Lost in Translation" should have been nominated for the Venice Film Festival, so Scarlett's coming to Cannes should have other reasons.

A glance, thoughts surging, before even having a chance to speak, there were already various guesses and possibilities colliding in their minds.

"You…"

Finally, Scarlett took the lead and was about to ask.

But she didn't expect—

"Ding."

The elevator stopped again, interrupting the conversation, and this was only the second floor.

Anson and Scarlett both turned their heads to look forward, the atmosphere slightly subtle.

Clearly, nothing had happened, but considering that this was the Barrière hotel in Cannes, and considering that this was the Cannes Film Festival, the countless celebrities, reporters, colleagues, industry insiders, and many eyes were like carps crossing the river, even if nothing happened, it could be interpreted with infinite possibilities, and they became vigilant unconsciously, their nerves slightly tense.

The person who came in was a woman.

Around her mid-thirties, her shoulder-length, light chestnut short hair looked capable and neat, a white T-shirt paired with a dark gray checkered suit jacket, and finally a square, palm-sized carry-on bag slung over her shoulder, probably a designer brand.

One look and you could tell she wasn't a reporter.

The woman's attention wasn't on Anson and Scarlett, she glanced at them briefly, politely nodded in greeting, and then withdrew her gaze, turning to face the elevator door, standing directly in front of them.

The elevator doors slowly closed.

No one spoke, and you could almost hear the sound of the cables turning echoing in the elevator shaft.

Ahem.

Anson cleared his throat, "Someone was following me again last night."

Woman: ???

Scarlett: ???

Where did this conversation come from? What exactly is wrong with Anson?

In a short second, the woman thought of something, this was Cannes, and there were countless stories during the film festival, including romantic affairs.

So, this is it?

The fire of gossip burned fiercely, the woman's shoulders and neck stiffened slightly, and although there was no special movement, you could still see her attention tilting, straining her ears, for fear of missing any details.

Anson noticed it, and Scarlett noticed it too.

With a flash of inspiration, Scarlett immediately understood Anson's prank.

Ha.

The corners of Scarlett's mouth turned up in a smile, but worried about being exposed, she quickly retracted the corners of her mouth, putting on a serious posture, turning to look at Anson on the side.

"Stop being paranoid."

Scarlett leaned against the elevator wall, striking a fully alert pose.

In fact, Scarlett knew that the woman in front of her would definitely not turn her head, the more she eavesdropped, the more she tried to hide it, and the more guilty she was, the more she couldn't be aboveboard, just like covering her ears while stealing a bell.

But Scarlett still performed well, mimicking the spy movie.

This scene, falling into Anson's eyes—

He understood completely.

Anson also leaned against the corner of the wall, looking ahead, maintaining the angle of his head, even retracting his mouth shape, muttering in a ventriloquism-like way.

"I'm telling you, they're onto me."

Scarlett also lowered her voice, and couldn't help but become curious about the development of the story, "Please, how could anyone recognize you? You've had so much plastic surgery."

Anson: ???

Anson looked at Scarlett and asked the question from his soul: Me?

Scarlett's face was calm, using all her strength to control the corners of her mouth that were eager to turn up, "How many times was it? Three times?"

Anson slightly tilted his head, "Seven times."

Scarlett almost burst out laughing, clenching her fists to control herself, "The surgery was really successful. Has anyone said you look like a movie star?"

In front, the woman's eyes widened, her chin almost dislocating.

Thump, thump.

Her heart was beating like a drum.

She thought she was very calm, but she didn't know that her upper body was leaning back, more and more obviously, enough to make Michael Jackson's dance steps pale in comparison, and all of this fell into the eyes of Anson and Scarlett.

Anson glanced at Scarlett, "Oh, those stupid Hollywood stars?"

Pfft.

Scarlett almost failed, just a little bit, barely managing to control herself, "Yes, stupid and arrogant Hollywood stars, this is Cannes, you can perfectly blend into the atmosphere here, no one will notice, last night was 100% your illusion."

Anson, "Hehe, just like Elizabeth? That's what she thought too, what was the result?"

Woman: Elizabeth? Which Elizabeth? Elizabeth Taylor? Elizabeth Sue? Elizabeth Moss? Elizabeth Banks? God, there are too many Elizabeths in Hollywood!

Scarlett, "Elizabeth was too careless, she shouldn't have returned to Zurich."

Wait, Zurich? Is this seeking asylum? Or some kind of espionage?

Anson gently exhaled, "Damn it, I just don't want any more bloodshed, I've had enough, they better not push me any further."