The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 2041 Escaping Reality
Sunlight streamed into the room, creating a tranquil and peaceful atmosphere. Time seemed to stand still at that moment, making it too precious to disturb.

Edgar paused, looked up at Lucas, and made no attempt to hide the worry in his eyes. He had thought it was just a cold, but now it seemed that Anson's condition was far worse than he had imagined.

Lucas did not respond, remaining expressionless, though a hint of seriousness lingered between his brows.

Lucas started walking, and Edgar tried to call out to him—

Perhaps they shouldn't disturb Anson. Anson needs rest, and everything can be put on hold for now; there's no need to rush.

Previously, they had been sprinting and racing forward, hoping to gain a foothold at the top of the pyramid, build a brand image for Anson, and win the right to speak. Now that the first phase goal has been achieved, it doesn't matter if they slow down, because no one can easily shake Anson's position anymore.

Edgar believed there was no need to rush things.

However, Edgar was a beat too slow. Lucas had already come to the desk, half-squatted down, and gently patted Anson on the shoulder.

Anson woke up with a start, as if he had just been plagued by a nightmare, and almost fell down.

Fortunately, Lucas was prepared and protected Anson. "Go home and rest."

Anson rubbed his eyes, unable to control himself for a moment, and finally sat cross-legged on the floor. "You should have a sofa in your office. Who doesn't have a sofa in their office?"

Lucas didn't argue. "Okay, I understand. Let's go home now."

“Hehe.” Anson laughed. “You’re changing the subject. Even if you go home, you should at least wait until lunch is over. I came all this way specifically to have lunch.”

"Luca, I need to replenish my salt. Drinking porridge every day makes my mouth taste bland and I have no energy."

Lucas, however, was not easily fooled. Looking at Anson, who was like a child, he said, "You've had some chicken soup."

Anson spread his hands. "The chicken soup is still tasteless. Don't even mention adding salt to the chicken soup; even if you throw in a salt shaker, it will still taste awful."

Lucas sighed softly. "Okay. We'll go to Chinatown later. You love General Tso's chicken, right?"

"Haha, hahaha." Anson burst into laughter instantly, completely overjoyed—

This is an inside joke between brothers.

When Anson first tried General Tso's Chicken in New York, he was shocked to learn that it was one of the top three most popular dishes, because there was no such dish in Chinese recipes at all; it was entirely created by Chinese immigrants in a foreign land. But upon reflection, he realized that Western food also underwent "modification" when it spread to mainland China, so he could understand it.

At the time, Anson complained about it to Lucas, but Lucas thought General Tso's Chicken was quite delicious and he personally liked it very much.

Later, whenever Chinese food came up, Lucas would joke about this incident, criticizing Anson for calling himself an "expert."

The bright and cheerful laughter eased Edgar's tense nerves a little, and he took two steps forward. "Would you mind adding one more person? I'm also struggling with the lunch menu. I think General Tso's chicken is really delicious."

Anson glanced at Lucas.

Lucas glared back, signaling Anson to shut up.

Anson could no longer hold back and burst into laughter, rolling around on the ground.

Edgar was completely bewildered. "Did I just tell a joke? Come on, let me think about it. I can use it to liven things up next time I have a meeting with those movie studio bigwigs."

Anson: "Hahaha."

Laughing until tears welled up, Anson rubbed his stiff cheeks vigorously, his mood brightening. "Captain, come on, let's try the legendary General Tso's Chicken today." It wasn't until the end of lunch that Edgar finally understood the story behind the dish. He looked utterly bewildered. "Anson, how do you know this dish isn't authentic? Have you been to China before?"

Anson: ...“Friend.”

“When I watched ‘Friends’ before, I was very curious about them eating Chinese food, so I chatted with the owners of Chinese restaurants in Chinatown. Promoting a culture or a food requires skill, just like how there are pizza shops all over New York now but you can’t see any dedicated pasta shops.”

"Everything is a business."

My heart was pounding wildly.

On the surface, Anson remained calm, putting down his chopsticks and shifting his gaze between Edgar and Lucas. "Tell me, what are you two plotting together?"

Edgar blinked, caught off guard, and deliberately avoided looking at Lucas. "Us? What are we scheming about? It's just lunch."

Anson, however, was unconvinced and glanced at Lucas. "You agreed so easily, did you just reject Martin?"

Edgar: ...collapsed instantly.

Lucas remained expressionless. "Then why are you pretending to be stupid?"

Anson said matter-of-factly, "Eating is eating, and working is working. They are two different things." If he had brought it up directly at Forest Films, Lucas would probably have used lunch to blackmail him, which wouldn't have been worth it, so he decided to wait until they were full before making a move.

Lucas remained calm. "Yes, I declined."

Anson curled his lip and made a face. "I think I'll agree."

Lucas: "No."

Now, Anson appeared calm and collected, sitting as if nothing was amiss, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.

Edgar tried to interject and ease the tension, but it was clearly not an easy task. His gaze darted back and forth between the two Wood brothers, but he couldn't find a suitable way to break the deadlock.

Lucas frowned slightly. "Anson, you need to rest. You're not feeling well right now. You haven't been feeling well since Paris. You've been rushing around despite being unwell, creating a vicious cycle. Right now, it's just a fever..."

Anson: "But the fever has subsided now, hasn't it?"

Lucas's voice grew colder and colder, "What about next time? If you keep wearing down your body, it won't be so easy to get sick again next time. This is your own body, do you know what you're doing?"

Anson didn't immediately bang his head against the wall; he just let out a soft sigh. "Yeah. I know. I just don't want to stay at home; I need to distract myself."

A single sentence, light and airy, without any power, instantly froze the air. Lucas was stunned, and Edgar was stunned too.

In an instant, all the chaotic thoughts came to a standstill, vanished like smoke, and all explanations and arguments became meaningless.

Those wounds hidden in the stillness and silence, those unspoken words, those wounds that were thought to have faded with time, settled, and been completely forgotten and covered up, resurfaced, gently tugging at the heart, again and again, making it almost impossible to breathe, words became pale, and even speech was impossible.

Then, Edgar finally spoke, breaking the silence and trying to ease the tension. He didn't dare look directly at the elephant in the room, but instead changed the subject, trying to get to the point and carefully avoiding the wound, "Anson, you didn't even have time to read the script, did you?"

This time, however, Anson did not answer. He simply sat quietly in place, lost in thought.

All the joy and brilliance vanished completely, and I fell silent, letting myself roam freely in the torrent of my thoughts, only to be lost in the vortex of time in the blink of an eye.

(End of this chapter)