The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1799 Poor

You get paid for what you do; it's just a job, there's no need to act like a superhero.

This has always been Will's work principle.

But... what just happened?
Go all out, burn with passion, work diligently, and risk everything.

Even Will couldn't recognize himself. What happened to him? Even the "Sailing" that was still singing loudly behind him seemed completely unfamiliar.

To hide his embarrassment, Will hurriedly asked, changing the subject, "What?"

Fortunately, the other security personnel were the same; they had never seen anything like it before, and they were even more shocked and bewildered than Will.

"What did Anson just say? When he was getting on the bus at the very end?"

Will paused, the image in his mind flashing before his eyes, and the words slipped out, "Thank you."

"what?"

Will repeated, "Thank you." Anson said, "Thank you. Thank you for your work."

It's just a single sentence, a simple phrase that we repeat countless times in daily life, yet it seems to possess a magical power.

Not only Will, but the other security personnel exchanged bewildered glances, a joy and happiness that defied description instantly filling their chests.

Anson said thank you.

"Haha, thank you, he actually said thank you."

“Did you hear that? Anson Wood, that Anson Wood, he thanked us for our work.”

"Including me, okay? Anson thanked me too."

"Actually, Anson just shook hands with me, haha."

They chattered back and forth, unable to contain themselves any longer, their spirits soaring to the clouds.

Will stood there, stunned, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards the direction Anson had left.

Although the Mercedes is long gone, just looking in that direction and knowing that Anson is among the crowd brings a smile to my face, a smile that blooms proudly.

Indeed, he was unrecognizable to himself today. Breaking one of his own behavioral principles, he became, in a moment, the very kind of person he once despised.

They earn meager salaries but pretend to be superheroes.

However, once he calmed down, he could feel happiness and joy bubbling up in his chest. The kind of happiness was indescribable. Although it couldn't compare to receiving his paycheck every month, this feeling was actually... not bad at all, and it might even be unforgettable.

"Hmph hmph hmph... Hmph hmph hmph... Sailing..."

Gently, deep in his throat, Will hummed along, his body seemingly becoming lighter, and even the haze above his head seemed to faintly reveal a golden glimmer.

Will thought, "This is a beautiful day."

On the other hand, Anson was not in such a good mood at this moment.

He had just boarded the bus and hadn't even had a chance to catch his breath when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Anson didn't have time to pay attention to the busy phone. He pulled out a bottle of mineral water from the front, opened it, and gulped it down in one go. His throat, which was almost on fire, was finally saved.

This also serves as a reminder to Anson that he should exercise more restraint in organizing unprepared surprise events in the future.

Not only was my mouth dry, but I was also starving.

To make matters worse, his arms and shoulders were incredibly sore, as were his calves and thighs. As his tense nerves relaxed, his whole body ached and felt numb.

On the surface, Anson seemed to have done nothing; but in reality, he was on edge the entire time, constantly watching his surroundings and listening intently, unable to relax for even a moment. Any slight deviation could lead to an accident, not to mention the impromptu hand-clapping meet-and-greet, where all the cells in his palms had died. He now needed to completely clear his mind.

After finally easing the tension a little, Anson took out his phone. The call had already ended. He opened it and saw—

Thirteen missed calls.

Anson had a headache and was thinking about what to do when the phone started vibrating again. This deadly chain of calls was all too familiar and comforting.

There was absolutely no suspense.

Anson let out a soft breath and answered the phone, "Hey, Luca..."

"Anson Wood! What are you thinking..." A series of rapid-fire shouts, comparable to the roaring letter in "Harry Potter," even burst out of the phone's receiver.

Anson looked up at the rearview mirror, and sure enough, the driver was so surprised and taken aback that he looked up as well. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

Anson shrugged slightly. "I got scolded."

The driver hadn't expected Anson to be so direct. He couldn't help but smile, looking at Anson's wrinkled, curled-up, and pitiful appearance. "Looks like someone who cares about you a lot."

Anson looked helpless. "Although I don't want to admit it..." But it was true.

Anson didn't answer the phone. Instead, he let the angry shouts on the other end of the line finish and quiet down a bit before putting the phone back to his ear.

"...Anson, Anson! I've vented everything now. You can put the phone back to your ear. We need to talk."

Lucas received no response, not even a sound of breathing. He had long since seen through Anson's little trick, but he didn't care.

Anson replied obediently, "Mmm."

Lucas, "Eight bodyguards." Seemingly sensing Anson's impending protest, Lucas preemptively added, "No discussion. I already allowed you to stay in Edinburgh on your own, and then you went to London and caused this chaos? What were you thinking? You don't want Mom and Dad to know about this!"

Anson: "It was an accident, really just an accident."

Lucas: "Of course I know it was an accident, but those bodyguards are there to prevent these kinds of accidents, aren't they? You have no idea how big this has become, right? The whole of North America is in an uproar!"

Anson thought about it seriously for a moment, "It should be the middle of the night in Los Angeles, right? Where is there such a commotion? Shouldn't everyone be asleep?"

Lucas, "...Anson Wood, are you kidding me?"

Realizing Lucas was truly angry, Anson, worried Lucas might fly over immediately, quickly lowered his head, "I'm sorry, I was wrong." But then he immediately changed the subject, "Aren't you worried about me? Aren't you worried about whether I'm hurt?"

Lucas's heart tightened; even through the phone, he could hear the whooshing sound of someone standing up instantly. "What? You're injured? Damn it!"

Anson: ...

Oh no, this has backfired.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not. I really didn’t. Everything’s fine. Believe me, everything’s alright,” Anson quickly explained, but there was no response from the other end of the phone.

Anson sighed, "Luca, calm down, calm down! Really, I'm fine. If you don't believe me, you can ask the driver? I'll turn on the speaker."

"Hey driver, could you please tell my brother how I look now?"

Lucas seemed to finally calm down, stop walking, and listen attentively.

Driver: ? ? ? Hey, you guys are arguing, why are you dragging me, an innocent bystander, into it?
Even Anson was curled up in a crumpled ball, looking pitiful. What should this passerby do? Could his life be in danger if he wasn't careful?
Sure enough, Lucas's calm voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Sir, you'd better tell the truth. No matter how that guy is giving you the look he's giving you, describe exactly what you've seen. Otherwise, I'll always find a way to find you, and you'll regret it."

(End of this chapter)