hollywood billionaire

Chapter 493 Rock Goddess
"Lana, I must say, your home feels... so cozy."

Sitting at the classical long table, sipping the iced tea prepared by the host, Han Yi exhaled a breath of cool air that made his body and mind relax. He shifted his gaze from the magnificent scenery of the North Hollywood Valley to the ochre-red wooden roof of the Spanish Colonial Revival-style mansion, and then naturally shifted to the green courtyard.

With his eyes half open and half closed, he quietly enjoyed it for a moment and then uttered such an exclamation.

Han Yi is a strange person with a mixture of contradictory aesthetic concepts. He likes quietness, but yearns for the hustle and bustle of big cities. When choosing watches, he sneers at Richard Miller's excessive pursuit of fashion, but has a special liking for works such as FPJourne that are full of retro aesthetics. But when choosing a home, he is not interested in traditional classical mansions at all, but hopes that his home can be as minimalist and futuristic as possible.

But even he had to admit that Lana Del Rey's secluded residence hidden deep in the Hollywood Hills, although it looked like a retro old house from head to toe, inside and out, with no signs of being touched by modern technology, unexpectedly satisfied all his fantasies of a comfortable life.

At the northernmost tip of Franklin Canyon Park, where Beverly Ridge meets North Hollywood, Lana Del Rey's retreat at 3415 Cold Spring Valley Boulevard is like a secret place forgotten by time.

Passing through the winding mountain path, behind two cast iron carved doors, there is an off-white stone wall covered with wisteria. The century-old oak tree on the east side of the courtyard stretches its body to its heart's content, and the light spots leaking through the branches and leaves sprinkle on the fountain dotted with moss, merging with the water flow and splashing ripples.

Perched on the edge of a cliff, towering over the entire film and television city and overlooking the North Hollywood Valley, the main building is a classic that has won the Wall Street Journal's "House of the Month" award.

Under the red tile roof that seems frozen in time, the French windows frame the flowing afternoon light. The milky white exterior walls, which have been carefully maintained and are free of any dirt, glow like honey under the scorching sun.

The copper wind chimes hanging on the archway swayed gently with the warm mountain breeze, dancing in the fresh air like musical notations. Han Yi's fingertips stroked the edge of the long table, and the walnut wood grain was filled with the warmth of time, which made him feel more stable and comfortable.

"Thank you, Yi."

Lana, with a cobalt blue grandmother scarf draped over her shoulders, came out of the room holding a porcelain plate. Her lips were burgundy red and her skirt was alabaster white. The singer, who is known for her retro art pop music, has a consistent aesthetic in private, which is full of the rich and fragrant atmosphere of the golden age.

"The atmosphere of this place is truly unique. The first time I came here, I fell in love with it instantly. The most vivid image in my mind is standing... there."

Placing the porcelain plate filled with mini sandwiches on the long table, Lana pointed to the depths of the courtyard.

"Standing in the shadow of the trees, I could hear the pleasant sound of the fountain next door. The sun was only two or three inches away from my feet. As long as I took a step forward, I could immediately embrace the warmth."

"Following the trail of light, I looked up at the small building on the top of the hill. It was flashing with caramel-colored light, just like today. At that moment, I realized that this was the dream house I had been looking for, because it was like the dollhouse I loved most when I was a child, the dollhouse I dreamed of living in."

"Wow."

The first person to sigh before anyone else was Lionel Richie at the end of the long table. He put down his glass and shook his head slowly.

"I finally understand why young people today admire you so much, Elizabeth. You are a true poet."

"I'm still a long way from being a true poet." Lana Del Rey, whose real name is Elizabeth Grant, covered her chest with her hands, lowered her head slightly, and smiled indifferently. It was obvious that she did not take Lionel's polite compliment to heart. "But today this house welcomes a great poet in our time, or in any time, that is Mrs. Nix, who is deeply loved and respected by the world."

"No, don't. Don't bring this up with me."

The voice that objected was a little old but full of energy. It came from Stevie Nicks, who was sitting to the right of Lionel Richie and was originally dozing comfortably.

Unlike the image that Han Yi had imagined in his mind, the Stevie Nicks he saw was not wearing an ivory lace dress, nor was she wearing a pearly white tulle cape, nor was she wearing a chiffon fringe cape on her shoulders.

Today, Stevie is dressed simply and neatly in a black women's suit. From head to toe, except for the high shoulder pads that are a bit 1980s, there is nothing particularly eye-catching. But even so, the strong Bohemian witch temperament she exudes, which covers the whole scene, has not been weakened at all. The reason is simple. A person can pretend to be himself, but he cannot eliminate his true self. The truth about Stevie Nicks is hidden in the details.

The Gothic crescent pendant hanging around her neck, the Tibetan Buddhist beeswax beads, the Victorian dried flower enamel pod, the three topaz rings between her fingers, and - most importantly - the bourbon whiskey held firmly in her palm, all declare to people: the legendary singer who has achieved success and retired from the music scene is still the rock goddess with the corners of her eyes always stubbornly upturned in 1977.

"I'm not some great poet, Lana. I'm just an old woman who wants to have a delicious lunch you made, get drunk, and nap on your porch until the sun goes down."

"Even what you said just now..." Han Yi raised his arm and joined the topic with a smile, "It's also very poetic."

"This only shows that the children of your generation have never experienced truly wonderful poetry." Han Yi's words were full of flattery, so Stevie raised her eyebrows and joked freely without any burden. Taking advantage of the wine, she talked about whatever came to her mind, "When I was a child, I grew up reading masterpieces created by truly immortal masters. I'm talking about WH Auden and TS Eliot, the greatest figures in American poetry."

"The stars are no longer needed; put out each one,
Put away the moon, dismantle the sun,

Empty the seas, clear the forests;
Because nothing in the world can be compared to the beauty of you."

Reciting a passage from WH Auden's classic "Funeral Blues" in an almost chanting tone, Stevie Nicks poured the remaining amber liquor in the glass down her throat and hummed with satisfaction.

“I agree with you, but what you don’t realize is that… we also grew up reading the works of the greatest names in American poetry.”

When saying this, Han Yi's expression and tone seemed extremely sincere.

"Stand proud, ancient queen,

Hanging down into pale branches.

All followers fade away under your throne,

Authority has always been as cold as love words.
It is better to put your kingdom on the market."

"Gold Dust Woman." Lana Del Rey instantly recognized the source of the lyrics. She gathered her skirt, sat to Stevie's right, looked at Han Yi with a smile, and directly said the title of the song.

"It ranks among the top three of my favorite works of yours." Madison also spoke at the right time, leaning over sweetly and sweetly, and spoke softly to Stevie.

"interesting."

The whiskey rolling in her stomach had not yet risen through her blood vessels to her brain and affected Stevie Nicks's judgment. The woman who had dealt with all kinds of people in Hollywood all her life chuckled, shook her head, grabbed the bottle in the middle of the long table, and refilled herself with half a glass, saying to herself:
"I now feel that this lunch invitation doesn't seem that simple... Are we really celebrating the successful recording of the new single and Yi's birthday yesterday?"

"Or……"

"Actually, I am the main course of this meal?"

(End of this chapter)