From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Anson wasn't a naive or innocent child.

He knew that the bonds between people weren't easy to forge, be it family, love, or friendship. That was true in ordinary life, and even more so in the world of fame and fortune.

Seeking trust and connection in the world of fame and fortune was a foolish idea.

But Anson still held onto hope, a faint and innocent hope.

Even in the world of fame and fortune, it was still possible to find like-minded companions. Not out of foolishness, but because seeing everything too clearly and rationally made life too lonely, like having no dreams.

Especially after experiencing the long darkness of his previous life.

Anson realized that believing in dreams and hope wasn't foolish, but rather a sign of still loving life, standing in the mud and looking up at the starry sky.

So, cautiously, Anson still chose to believe and to expect.

Today, Brad's appearance was a small surprise.

Anson could feel Brad's sincerity and helplessness, even though Anson didn't know what Brad had been through. He also believed that what Brad had said was just the tip of the iceberg; but Brad's pain, confusion, and struggles were all real—

Both he and Brad were ordinary people, prone to making mistakes, feeling regret, and falling down. Compared to mistakes, being able to pull back from the brink and start anew was always more important.

Those expressions of gratitude were sincere.

At least, Brad proved that kindness in the world of fame and fortune wasn't always foolish.

However.

Things weren't that simple.

The hurts, the disappointments, the bitterness—they had all really happened; they were so real and so vivid, leaving deep marks that wouldn't easily disappear with a few words of apology.

Moreover, friendship wasn't like a Lego set, where you could break it apart and put it back together without leaving a trace; trust couldn't be easily restored just by saying so.

They needed time, and they needed space.

"But."

"Brad, I don't think I can invite you to stay for a drink. At least, not right now."

Anson's words were somewhat difficult, but in the end, he still said them.

Brad panicked a little.

"Anson… No, I…"

"I promise, I won't act recklessly, I won't act like a crazy person and make trouble."

"I won't keep saying 'me, me, me,' I won't discuss work—including my work and your work, I just…"

Anson felt a pang of sympathy.

The Brad before him was like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.

But Anson knew that people going through withdrawal were always like this, whether addicted or breaking free from addiction, they would frantically grab at any straw, and their words and actions couldn't be easily trusted.

Taking a deep breath, Anson remained calm.

"I know, Brad, I believe you."

"It's just that we both need time and space, not just me, but you too."

"What's happened has already happened, we don't need to dwell on it, but we can't pretend it didn't happen, pretend everything's fine, pretend things can be restored to their original state with the press of a factory reset button."

"I'm sorry, Brad, I don't want to hurt you…"

This time, Brad waved his hand, stopping Anson.

Brad sat quietly in place, his shoulders drooping, looking a little lost, as if he had been abandoned; but he took a deep breath and straightened his back again.

"No, no, no, I understand."

"What I mean is, I'm like someone who's been lost in the desert for a long time, and when I see a spring, I can't wait to bury my head in it; but the reality is, if I'm too eager, I might drown instead."

"You need time, and I need time."

The principle wasn't difficult.

However, Brad still felt a sense of emptiness, staring blankly ahead with a lost expression.

Life really wasn't easy, and life in the world of fame and fortune was even harder.

When you were worthless, you yearned to become famous overnight; only after you actually became famous overnight did you realize that the world wrapped in that bizarre glamour was completely different from what you had imagined, but the cruel thing was that you could no longer go back.

Anson let out a long breath.

"If this were a Hollywood movie, I should give you two hard punches to the chest right now, then tearfully escort you to the airport to leave Los Angeles, and then sit forlornly at the bar with a glass of whiskey, sadly lamenting, 'Of all the towns in all the world, you had to walk into mine.'"

Haha.

"For me, it's not the right time yet…"

Brad took a deep breath and waved his hand repeatedly, "Don't worry, I understand, I get it. You're right. Anyway, I'm always here."

"Mainly because I have nowhere else to go. I can only stay in Los Angeles, so just pretend that I'm still wandering around here, waiting for your call, and then the paparazzi secretly follow us, taking photos of us going to the bar for a drink, and Chris calls, jealous and complaining that we didn't invite him."

Blah blah blah.

A smile quietly crept onto the corners of Anson's lips.

The Brad before him had slightly recovered some of the rebelliousness and carefree attitude from Anson's memories.

Anson didn't know how deep the marks that the world of fame and fortune had left on Brad, nor did he know if Brad could regain his former self; but at least, he was already aware of it.

That was a start.

Anson shrugged lightly.

"Although I can't invite you for a drink, considering you've come all the way to Malibu, I can tell you that I've collaborated with Heath Ledger on a movie. God, he's a real madman."

Brad's eyes widened, "Heath? Wait, that madman who was competing with you for Peter Parker? Oh, my God, is it true that he gets so crazy that he hits himself?"

"I'm not sure if he hits himself, but I'm sure we punched each other."

"You? You're kidding!"

"I'm not."

"Jesus Christ, Anson, you've gone bad. I thought you'd never fight. Even Chris, that good boy, fights, but you don't look like it at all. I can't imagine you throwing a punch."

"Too bad you just apologized, otherwise I could give you a punch right now and teach you a lesson, to vent some anger."

"Oh, Anson, you wouldn't want to try. My fighting skills are very dirty. I learned them all from street thugs, using sneaky tricks. You're a good boy, don't learn bad habits."

"Nut shot?"

"Oh, my ears, God, my ears!"

Back and forth, joking and laughing, laughter reverberated in the air again, unknowingly, as if they had returned to the carefree and lighthearted years of the past. The two of them were outspoken, teasing and mocking each other. If one out of ten sentences was true, it would be amazing, the rest were all nonsense, but these playful jokes kept the laughter going.

However, Brad didn't stay long after all. He only stayed for a little while longer, leaving the villa with a smile. When his footsteps stood outside the carved iron gate, the heavy burden on his shoulders seemed to have been lifted.