From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Screech!

The taxi's tires locked as it pulled to a stop, and Anson nimbly hopped inside.

"Burbank, Disney Studios."

"Please, as quickly as possible. The faster, the better."

After saying that, Anson patted the back of the driver's seat, signaling that he could start.

The driver was a portly uncle with a round beer belly and an Adam Sandler-esque憨厚 smile. He didn't start immediately but glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Auditioning?"

Anson was a little surprised. He looked down at his outfit, not expecting the driver to be able to tell. He smiled, neither confirming nor denying, "We need to hurry, opportunity waits for no one."

The driver understood—

Anyway, he was convinced that Anson was going to an audition.

Residents of Los Angeles should all know that the City of Angels is full of opportunities, but the competition is equally fierce. No one is irreplaceable. A moment's distraction, and the opportunity might fall into someone else's hands. The goddess of fate doesn't favor anyone; everything needs to be fought for and grasped.

The driver gave a憨憨 smile, his face full of friendliness, "You'd better buckle your seatbelt."

Anson blinked, not asking why, and obediently fastened his seatbelt.

Then—

Gas pedal floored, the taxi shot out like an arrow, and Anson's entire back was slammed hard against the seat.

Of course, Anson could have chosen to go home, shower, groom, change clothes, and then go to the audition; but he didn't.

The other party's urgency was the key reason.

Moreover, Anson believed that showing authenticity was also an important part of the audition. Some say that auditioning is like dating, always wanting to show the best side to the other person; but whether it's auditioning or dating, authenticity is the key to seeking a perfect match, and bravely showing oneself is a kind of charm.

Bang!

With a sudden brake, the taxi stopped accurately at the side of the road. Anson was almost thrown out, but the seatbelt pulled him back.

The driver revealed a set of not-so-perfect teeth, "We're here."

Anson only managed to say thank you, paid the fare—including a twenty-dollar tip—picked up his skateboard, and was half a beat late in realizing that his internal organs were churning, and his feet felt like they were treading on clouds, his knees trembling slightly.

Was that driver a real-life prototype of "Taxi"?

With a turn, he could see the driver leaning out, flashing a bright smile, "Good luck!"

Without waiting for Anson's response, the driver released the handbrake and sped away again.

Anson refocused, took a deep breath, adjusted slightly, dropped the skateboard, stepped on it, and weaved through the studios.

Although this was Disney, right next to the Warner Bros. studio lot, the street scenes and environment were not drastically different. Everything felt familiar, as if he were back at the "Friends" audition, just as confused, just as rushed, just as full of unknowns.

The difference was that, at least this time, he knew what he was doing.

However, others might not be so sure—

That secretary, or assistant, had been stealing glances at Anson for the fifth time, her gaze constantly shifting, unable to believe her eyes, especially lingering on Anson's skateboard, unable to hide her confusion and astonishment, almost asking directly, "Do you know what you're doing?"

Anson, on the other hand, seemed calm.

Just as the secretary was about to knock, the office door opened first, very unexpectedly and suddenly, a vortex-like airflow surging out. The secretary was visibly startled, taking a small step back.

"Karen…"

Marcia had just called out when she also froze, then saw the two figures in front of her. She swallowed the rest of her words, and then noticed the big boy slightly stepping forward and half a step to the side, extending his right hand to protect the secretary behind him, his gaze clear and bright as he looked over.

A fresh breeze swept in with the morning light and tender green.

Marcia's eyes lit up, not even needing words.

"Ms. Marcia Ross? Good afternoon, I'm Wood, Anson Wood."

Refreshing and open, like a spring breeze.

Marcia didn't have time to think, made way, "We've been waiting for you."

Anson nodded with a smile, not explaining the reason for his "lateness", stepped into the office, and then saw Garry Marshall.

Garry was sitting at his desk, which was covered with photos and resumes, the most being Polaroid pictures, not the carefully taken resume photos of the actors themselves, but Polaroids with film grain. A rough glance made it impossible to estimate how many photos there were.

Garry was like a historian studying unearthed artifacts, wearing reading glasses and holding a magnifying glass, carefully scrutinizing every detail. His earnestness could be seen from his squinted eyes and raised wrinkles.

"Garry…"

Marcia's call came from behind.

Garry didn't react, still studying the Polaroid in his hand.

Marcia hurried in, gesturing for Anson to sit across from the desk; but then she noticed Anson's sweat, her expression hesitant, inadvertently revealing a hint of confusion, as if she had something to say but swallowed it back.

Marcia didn't like being sweaty. The first impression was a plus, and now it was a minus. With one plus and one minus, the impression began to waver.

Then, Garry finally looked up and saw Anson.

A mint green hooded T-shirt paired with denim shorts, white socks with dark green skate shoes, a skateboard in his right hand, the whole person hot and flushed, a head of unrestrained and flamboyant short hair recorded the traces of the wind. Although there was not much sweat on his face, the not-completely-dry sweat stains on his clothes still reminded everyone that this young man had just finished exercising.

Youth. Vitality. A kind of hormone-filled handsomeness.

No nervousness, no restraint, as if he didn't know what this meeting was.

No restraint, no awkwardness, completely unconcerned about his casual outfit.

That kind of temperament emanating from the inside out immediately caught his eye.

With just one look, Garry realized—

It was him.

So clear, so definite, so certain, inspiration instantly exploded.

Choosing a character is sometimes like this, one look is enough, a feeling that cannot be stopped or suppressed completely occupies the brain.

Back then, James Cameron also chose the cast for "Titanic" in the same way. 20th Century Fox wanted Matthew McConaughey to play the male lead, but James immediately chose Leonardo DiCaprio and argued for it. In the end, 20th Century Fox still fulfilled James's wish.

Facts also proved that James was right.

Garry now had the same intuition as James when he saw Leonardo.

Fifth update.