The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1898 Friendship and Duty
However, after a brief pause, Anson had already started walking, leaving his tangled thoughts at the door of the dressing room.

Did Anson consider that he needed to inform Jennifer Aniston?

Of course, he had thought about it.

After all, he and Jennifer had a good relationship while filming "Friends"; but to be honest, even the most impartial judge can't settle family disputes, and things are always complicated and messy.

Trust Anson, or trust Brad?

This is Jennifer's choice. If she chooses to believe her husband, then Anson, who spoke ill of Brad in front of Jennifer, will have to face the consequences of his actions.

He's caught in the middle, neither side.

Faced with such a dilemma, how friends handle the situation is undoubtedly the key.

Clearly, Anson and Jennifer's friendship is not that close.

Looking back now, the once globally popular golden couple, Brad Pitt was so jealous that he wanted to kick Anson out of the cast, which caused a rift between them.

Tonight, however, Brad was huddled behind the curtains, his body tense and afraid to move, using all his strength to hide his presence, barely daring to breathe.

Indeed, life is full of irony.

In fact, rather than reminding Jennifer, Anson was more curious about whether the waiter's guidance to the cloakroom was an accident, a coincidence, or a trap.
Is Tom Hanks really in the dressing room?

Things are starting to get interesting, aren't they?

Anson paused for a moment, standing at the top of the second-floor staircase, looking down at the entire scene. The elegant ladies and the clinking of glasses created a glamorous and bustling atmosphere, but the formalities of social occasions had been shed. A slightly tipsy haze filled the air with a warm, comfortable, and relaxed feeling.

Anson thought, "Then I'll invite Tom to the Malibu villa next time. Continuing to wander around here tonight isn't a good idea."

He took another step, descended the steps, and silently passed through the crowd, leaving the building. He identified his direction and prepared to sneak away from the scene.

Anyone with a brain would know that paparazzi are probably staking out the hotel right now, at every exit. Knowing how to leave quietly without being seen is an art.

But wait—

Anson's footsteps returned, and he went back to the steps at the entrance of the banquet hall.

A woman sat on the steps. Judging from her long, drooping hair, she was definitely a woman. She leaned limply against the white jade railing beside her, her hands gripping the railing like a prisoner longing for the free world outside. Her shoulders, arms, and spine all slumped down, deeply feeling the weight of gravity on her body. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, as if she were searching for something.

Anson hesitated slightly, "...Scarlett?"

The woman did not respond and remained leaning against the "iron bars".

Anson walked around to the outside of the iron bars and finally saw her face clearly. He was 100% certain that it was Scarlett Johansson, and the drunk version at that.

Anson followed Scarlett's gaze to the ground. "Scarlett, what are you looking for?"

Scarlett didn't look up. "Shh. I'm fishing, don't scare them away."

Anson looked down at the grass beneath his feet, then at Scarlett's serious face, and couldn't help but laugh.

Anson looked up and searched around, trying to find Scarlett's agent, PR person, or assistant. Whoever it was, Scarlett clearly needed some help.

However, searching for someone in such a needle-in-a-haystack manner is obviously fruitless.

Anson was considering whether he should ask Noah to come and help take Scarlett back when Scarlett suddenly stood up without warning.

Anson was taken aback. Then, Scarlett sat back down, bending over as if she was about to vomit.

Anson's eyes widened. "Scarlett, control yourself, just bear with it, just bear with it for now." In a flurry, Anson helped Scarlett up and quickly returned to the hall, moving forward as fast as he could.

From a distance, you can see a long line of people winding their way to the bathroom entrance.

Anson secretly exclaimed that something was wrong.

Although we continue to move forward, our eyes are already searching for alternatives.

Or, how about vomiting in the vase?

Why is there a hat here?
Anson didn't care who the hat belonged to; he simply took the top hat and placed it in front of Scarlett. Just then, he saw someone coming out of the bathroom, so he quickly helped Scarlett up and sprinted away, shouting like an ambulance.

"Vomiting warning. Vomiting warning!"

In short, everyone in line stepped back and leaned against the wall, afraid of getting vomit on them, and the whole night was filled with a sour smell.

Anson entered the restroom without any hindrance. Only then did people realize who it was, and complaints, grumbling, and protests erupted. They didn't even realize that the person was Anson; they were just grumbling about someone cutting in line. But Anson couldn't care less about that now.

vomit.

Scarlett had lost control.

Anson turned around in a fluster and saw Scarlett kneeling next to the toilet. He quickly tidied up her loose hair, but Scarlett didn't care about anything else. She buried her face in the toilet and vomited violently, as if she was about to vomit up her internal organs.

Finally, Scarlett stopped, and a sour, foul smell filled the air.

Anson pressed the flush button and watched Scarlett slump to the side, obediently holding the bowler hat in her hand.

But clearly, the top hat was completely ruined, filled with vomit.

Anson grinned as he picked up the top hat, poured all the liquid inside into the toilet and flushed it away. He then placed the top hat under the tap again, trying to wash away the smell.

For a moment, the entire space fell silent, with only the sound of rushing water.

Anson finally finished his work, wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned to look at Scarlett, whose eyes had regained focus, and gave her a gloating smile. "How are you feeling now?"

Scarlett looked at Anson, about to answer, but her mouth puffed up again. She nimbly got up, aimed at the toilet, and vomited once more.

Anson quickly put down his bowler hat and pulled Scarlett's hair back up. His stomach started churning. He hadn't consumed much alcohol tonight, barely even a little tipsy, and had mostly kept his head clear. But now, the alcohol seemed to be entering his bloodstream, and he felt a bit nauseous.

I turned my head, took a deep breath, and barely managed to control myself.

When she turned around again, Scarlett had already finished the second wave.

There wasn't much this time, but the sour smell was stronger. It seemed like he was about to start vomiting stomach acid. Anson pressed the flush button and flushed away all the filth.

"You've barely eaten anything tonight, haven't you? What would you like to eat now?"

Scarlett leaned against the wall, feeling dazed and confused. Her body was alternating between hot and cold, and she was covered in sweat. Now, with her back pressed against the tiled wall, a cool sensation penetrated her skin, soothing her nerves slightly and bringing her back to consciousness. She couldn't help but give a helpless smile.

"Discussing food in the bathroom? Looks like you're drunk too, not just me. Are you sure this place can whet your appetite?"

(End of this chapter)