The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1458: Overturned
Monday morning, a desperate combination -

Who invented Monday? Who invented the 9-to-5 workday? Most importantly, who invented working?
Nine o'clock on Monday morning was like a death knell. I walked to work with heavy steps, a splitting headache and a sense of despair. Passing through the crowded subway in New York, which was considered the peak hour of death, my soul seemed to disappear little by little in the bustling crowd. Finally, my body and soul finally arrived at the office, but there was no soul at all.

Yea.

After the morning rush hour, the lobby on the first floor finally regained some quietness, but it didn't last long. The main door was pushed open again and the footsteps stopped at the front desk.

"Good morning."

The front desk clerk looked like a zombie, with a pale face and dull eyes. He barely pulled himself together and forced a smile, repeating the greeting in the form of program input, "Welcome to Warner Records, do you have an appointment?"

"No. I just happened to be passing by and stopped by to take a look. You can ask Mr. Mike Donovan if he has time now. If not, I'll come another day. It's okay."

"Sir, this is not in compliance with regulations. You need to make an appointment to visit the company. If you don't have an appointment, I can't just help you make the announcement. If you need anything, you can contact Mr. Donovan's assistant yourself."

"I don't have his assistant's extension number. How about this, you call his assistant and check the situation, and then say that Anson Wood is here to visit. Is that okay? I'll be sitting in the lounge across the street waiting, thank you for your help."

Gentleman, polite, decent.

Even without looking up, one could sense the faint smile in his words.

A disgusting sense of comfort and ease.

While they were worrying about Monday, someone was hanging out there.

However, the front desk clerk could not refuse because it was all in line with the procedure and this was her job. She had to make the call and complete the notification.

Damn it!

Mike Donovan was promoted to General Manager of Artists for the entire North America region at the beginning of this year. He was so busy that he didn't even have time to drink water. It was obvious that he would not jump the queue for a meeting without an appointment. Even his assistant was grumpy and resolute.

Monday mornings were especially true.

No one wants to get into trouble at this time unless it is necessary.

After taking a deep breath, the receptionist dialed the internal line. Before she even opened her mouth to say hello, the person on the other end of the phone got to the point in a swift and decisive manner.

"General Manager's Office."

The front desk also omitted the greeting, "Here is a man visiting Mr. Mike Donovan. He didn't have an appointment. He said he just happened to be passing by."

"Haha, are you asking for my opinion?" The assistant laughed directly -

Is this some ridiculous prank?
The assistant didn't wait for a response, his smile disappeared, "No, Mr. Donovan is not available."

The next step was to hang up the phone, but somehow he asked, "Who was it? Did he say his name?"

The front desk clerk, "Uh..." She hadn't paid attention to the name just now, so she grabbed the receiver and shouted to the man opposite, "Sir, who is looking for Mr. Donovan?"

"Wood. Anson-Wood."

The receptionist nodded and spoke back into the receiver, "Anson Wood."

The air was somewhat quiet, pausing slightly for half a second.

The assistant was stunned. "Who are you talking about, Anson Wood?"

The receptionist still didn't react, "Yes." She subconsciously raised her head and looked at the man in front of her. She shuddered and then froze, as if she was looking into the eyes of Medusa.

A light blue hoodie paired with dark blue shorts and a pair of black and white skateboard shoes, simple and plain, yet brimming with youthful vitality; a blue and white New York Yankees baseball cap without any extra decorations, the brim of the hat covers the upper part of the cheek, making it difficult to see clearly, but when their eyes meet, one can't help but look back for another glance.

Although it is not conspicuous, it catches your eyes inadvertently. However, if you are on the street, you may miss it before you even see its face.

But obviously, this is not the main street.

The man seemed to be aware of the gaze, and raised his head, just in time to see the front desk, and smiled. The slightly upturned corners of his mouth made the world brighten up in an instant.

The receptionist was stunned, her brain completely stopped working, and she completely lost the ability to think.

The person on the other end of the phone was already in a panic, "You mean that Anson Wood? The one and only Anson Wood?" "Fuck!"

"What the hell."

Reflexively, he stood up and rushed to Mike Donovan's office, but immediately remembered an important point and turned back to grab the phone receiver.

"Keep him."

Then he turned around and rushed into the office again, but his desk was knocked to the side, his feet slipped and he hit the wall hard, causing chaos and confusion everywhere.

The eyes of the entire floor gathered together, stunned.

But the assistant didn't care about that and pushed open the office door.

Mike Donovan was on a conference call when he was interrupted by a series of noisy noises. He looked up suddenly and said, "Fuck, what are you doing, acrobatics? I'm in a meeting..."

"Get out. Get out!"

The assistant knew how serious the consequences of interrupting the meeting were, but he was even more aware that if he missed the incident, he might lose his job.

Although Mike was angry, he still finished his words.

"Mr. Donovan, Anson, Anson is on the first floor."

Mike was stunned, "Who?"

"Anson Wood, sir."

After a few glances back and forth, their eyes met, and my brain finally reacted.

"Grass!"

Upstairs, the place was filled with smoke and people were stumbling.

Downstairs, everything is calm and peaceful.

Anson is very calm and relaxed——

The vacation continues. With no tasks or plans, Anson is thoroughly enjoying a casual time; perhaps his only goal every day is to explore New York and create more music in the process.

It was a fun time, no doubt.

Not only music, Anson started painting again and is in a relaxed state every day.

I came to Warner Records today. I was just passing by and stopped in to take a look.

Anson suddenly remembered that he had not yet discussed with Warner Records about producing a new album. There was no rush and there would be time to discuss it after the album was completed. But he just remembered it when he passed by, so he decided to come in and take a look.

If Mike Donovan isn't available, we'll do it another day.

It's just so casual and so willful.

But Anson likes this kind of life. It allows him to relax. He finally has time to look at the sky and the sea. He also finally has time to look at the streets and alleys of Manhattan and discover the little things beyond his daily life.

The result can often be a surprise, as even the neighborhoods you’re most familiar with hide secret spaces you’ve never explored, as if you’ve never known this city before.

Sitting down in the chair leisurely, Anson picked up the magazine and started flipping through it.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a figure pacing anxiously in front of him. When Anson looked up, he saw the receptionist had already walked out.

Anson stood up and said, "Mr. Donovan is not available? No problem, I'll come back another day."

Having said that, Anson was about to turn around.

The receptionist was almost crying, "No... stop!"

(End of this chapter)