The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 2040 Lingering
Thirty minutes passed in the blink of an eye; to be precise, the meeting actually lasted only twenty-three minutes before Lucas decisively ended it.

Martin turned and left, his heart heavy. Despite having tried his best, he was uncertain of his chances; the whole situation had completely spiraled out of control.

He couldn't see through Anson, he couldn't see through Lucas, and even Edgar, who had been actively contacting him, was now beyond his comprehension.

Martin had always believed himself to be wise and insightful, with unique perspectives on people and things, but after this incident, he began to doubt himself.

So, who gave him the courage to personally confront Anson at the BBC, make outrageous statements against him, and even gloat over his own stubbornness? In the end, he has fallen to his current humiliating state, like a defeated attacker, with his proud head bowed.

Standing at the entrance of Forest Film Studio, Martin couldn't help but look back.

Undoubtedly, funding was part of the reason, and Martin is not going to deny that; but the real key lies with Anson.

Martin was suddenly struck hard by regret, because he genuinely believed that Anson was the most suitable candidate, but what if he missed out on Anson?

"Then you're the dumbest idiot in the world." Martin slammed his fist on his head, pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, put one in his mouth, lit it, and puffed out smoke as if he wanted to envelop himself in the smoke.

In the conference room, Edgar looked at Lucas and said, "Lucas, from an agent's perspective, Anson will like this project."

Edgar remained professional throughout. Of course, after the little incident in London, Edgar was also amused, angry, annoyed and somewhat humiliated by Martin's behavior. He was definitely not dependent on Martin. Did Anson lack projects?
But Edgar refused to be swayed by such personal feelings. Because of his arrogance and conceit, he could not accept rejection from others. He believed that Anson was the number one person in Hollywood and that everyone had to come and worship him. Such thinking was wrong and could not help Anson realize his true grand vision.

Edgar knew Anson's vision; he needed to break the framework of the Oscars, break free from the constraints of commercial genres, and break free from the shackles of actor labels.

Under such circumstances, every project and every role needs to be carefully considered, as opportunities are not so easy to come by.

Therefore, he needs to remain objective; "No Holiday for Hitmen" is indeed a project worth exploring.

However, Lucas's tough stance during the meeting deviated from the plan, clearly indicating that he is not optimistic about this project collaboration.

Edgar knew that Lucas was not an emotional person, so he did not rush to question him, but instead maintained communication rationally.

Lucas's expression remained unchanged. "I know."

Edgar was taken aback.

Lucas explained, “Before you arrived, Martin met Anson in the lobby. The two talked for a while. Although I didn’t have time to ask about the specifics, judging from Martin’s performance in the meeting and Anson’s expression, they must have had a very pleasant conversation.”

Edgar frowned slightly. "Then why are you still..." He remained indifferent to Martin?

Lucas didn't even lift his eyelids. "Anson's health isn't good."

Edgar sat up abruptly. "Hasn't his fever gone down? He just needs to rest for a couple of days, right?"

It's just a cold, there's no need to make a fuss about it.

Lucas understood Edgar's meaning, but his feelings were different.

He knew that Anson had gone through a dark period, not mentally, but physically, due to unrestrained indulgence. Those things had long since damaged his physical functions. Although Anson didn't seem to have any major health problems in recent years, his fundamental condition was different.

Lucas shook his head slightly, but didn't explain much. "I know he likes this project, but he's not really interested yet. If he is, we could start working on it anytime." "Edgar, I need Anson to rest for a while, especially after the hectic last two months."

After the meeting ended, Lucas did not immediately go to see Anson for this reason: he needed to communicate with Edgar and reach a consensus.

From Nora to Charles to Lucas, they were all worried about Anson. The schedule for the past two months had been incredibly tight, and Anson seemed to be pushing himself to the limit.

Edgar's face was serious, and without any hesitation, he replied, "Of course, no problem. Nothing is more important than health."

"So, how long do we need, six months? A year? Should we find him a vacation island near the equator? Sunshine should be good for his health."

Lucas breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Let's take it one step at a time, starting with a month. You know Anson, he can't sit still, he's always restless."

Edgar gave a wry smile. "You don't need to tell me."

“The schedule was already very packed these past two months, but Anson was so focused on perfection that he poured his heart and soul into every event and performance. In the end, everything exceeded expectations, and everyone was caught up in the storm with him. I guess Eve was the only one celebrating the holidays.”

The Oscars are over, Anson has fallen ill, but the outside world continues to run at high speed. Now it's Eve's turn to work tirelessly, displaying her extraordinary abilities.

Eve has been promoting Anson, needing to establish a public image and keep up with news reports; internally, she needs to build connections and quickly establish networks through mutual benefits. A top public relations professional can play a role in the world of fame and fortune that is no less important than an agent.

Lucas did not respond, his face expressionless, a hint of gloom lurking beneath his calm. He stood up. "Let's go now."

Edgar was taken aback. "Now? Anson is here?"

Edgar was a beat slow to realize that Lucas had just said that Anson and Martin had met, but he hadn't seen it and didn't have a mental image of it.

Pushing open the door to Lucas's office, you can immediately see the huge glass window diagonally opposite the entrance, through which the golden California sunlight streams in without reservation.

Anson lay on Lucas's office chair with his feet propped up on the desk, almost lying flat on his back. His elbows were on the armrests and his hands were crossed on his chest. His body seemed to be slowly sliding down, as if he might fall off at any moment. It was hard to imagine that such a position would bring any comfort.

But this is Lucas's office: no sofa, no carpet, and certainly no recliner.

In fact, the large, bright glass window was out of place with the otherwise cool and austere office atmosphere; without it, the place would have looked like Iceland.

Thin, bright sunlight slowly streamed down, falling on Anson's face. His pale skin was almost transparent, and his lips were almost bloodless. Although he was enveloped in a golden halo, he seemed as fragile as a butterfly wing, easily shattered at the slightest touch.

Edgar froze, holding his breath.

Although he knew Anson had a high fever, Edgar was so busy after Oscars that he went to visit Anson twice, but Anson was asleep both times, so he never got to see Anson's condition in person.

until now.

Edgar finally understood the lingering worry in Lucas's eyes.

(End of this chapter)