America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

"Mr. Pan? Sean? What are you thinking about?"

Let's rewind to this morning.

In the campaign office, Matthew was calling out to Sean, who was lost in thought. Sean was standing by the window, his eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in thought.

Vincent Carter rushed in, his suit and tie still untied.

"It's nothing." Sean finally snapped out of his daze and turned to walk towards the sofa. "You guys continue."

Matthew and Vincent exchanged a glance; they hadn't even started yet!

However, this was of little consequence, and Matthew immediately began to explain the situation to Vincent.

"Mr. Carter, here's what happened—"

He recounted in detail the relationship between James Watkins and those community service centers. The Pennsylvania Community Development Foundation, the Philadelphia Community Mutual Aid Center, the Crescent Community Service Center in Allentown… the flow of funds and connections between these organizations gradually became clear through Matthew's explanation.

Vincent frowned even more deeply after hearing this.

"In theory, if it can be proven that there was fraudulent acquisition of federal funds, it's possible to prosecute," he pondered. "But the problem is..."

"What's the problem?"

“This is a huge problem.” Vincent shook his head. “Do you know what this involves? Any one of these labels is enough to make prosecutors back down. Even if the evidence is solid, once charges are filed, a deluge of discrimination allegations will come crashing down on us.”

"So nobody dares to touch this case?"

"It's not that no one dares, it's that no one is willing," Vincent sighed. "Some cases are like losing even if you win them."

"Alright, but—" Matthew changed the subject, "that's not the point right now. We didn't call you here just for that."

"ha?"

"Did you know that Watkins and the governor just invited Mr. Pan to a charity gala tonight?" Matthew waved the invitation in his hand. "The annual fundraising gala of the Pennsylvania Children's Education Foundation, at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Philadelphia."

Vincent took the invitation, examined it carefully, and a glint of light flashed in his eyes.

"It seems Mr. Pan is about to have dinner with the devil."

"I know," Matthew nodded. "That's why he's debating whether or not to go."

"I'm going."

"Do you really have to go?"

"We absolutely have to go!" Vincent's tone was unexpectedly firm. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. When paths cross, the brave will prevail!"

"An opportunity? Isn't this a trap?" Matthew pondered, stroking his chin. "Mr. Pan really screwed over Watkins. He won't let him get away with this."

"Trap and opportunity are always two sides of the same coin." Vincent put down the invitation. "Think about who will be attending tonight? Watkins, the mayor of Philadelphia, and all sorts of political and business luminaries. These people are gathering together to gild their image and whitewash their reputations."

"But what if Sean showed up there?"

Vincent turned to Sean on the sofa. "All the cameras, all the attention, will be on you. Those reporters came here to take photos with celebrities, and then they find Sean Penn is here too? They'll go crazy."

"But wouldn't that attract even more hostility?" Matthew frowned.

"Hate?" Vincent chuckled. "No, I think that sometimes, being ignored is the real death. As long as someone is cursing you, hating you, and paying attention to you, you're still alive."

"What Sean needs most right now is public support. And the fastest way to gain public support is to stand in the spotlight!"

Sean listened silently the whole time. It seemed that Vincent had learned a lot from this hype-monger. The "75" above his head was also evidence of Vincent's approval of him.

After thinking for a moment, he slowly spoke:

"I understand, you mean I went there not to argue with them, but to steal the spotlight."

"right."

"Just by being there, I've already won half the battle." Sean nodded slowly. "The reporters will throw the questions at the big shots, and I just need to stand by and watch them frantically try to explain."

"Exactly," Vincent said, his eyes showing approval. "But that's not enough."

"What else do we need?"

Vincent walked up to Sean and said in a serious tone, "You need to smile."

"laugh?"

"Yes, a smile." Vincent held up his hand and gestured to his face. "Not a forced smile, nor a smug smile. But a... confident, composed smile, with a touch of kindness."

"A smile is contagious," he continued. "When you smile, people around you unconsciously relax their guard. They think you're easy to get along with and not threatening. Then, when you speak, they're more likely to accept your point of view."

"You also studied psychology?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Lawyers are always like that, they have to learn a little bit of everything," Vincent laughed. "Do you think those politicians have all developed a perfect, standardized smile? Because a smile is the best weapon. It can lower the other person's guard, win the audience's favor, and make those who attack you seem like they're making a mountain out of a molehill."

After hearing this, Sean tried to grin, but the result was a bit stiff.

"Relax, friend. Aren't you an actor?" Vincent shook his head. "Don't act like a salesman, act like a friend. Imagine you're chatting with an old friend who just told a not-so-funny joke, but you still want to give them face."

Sean tried again, and this time it was much better. It seems that it's normal to not do well the first time.

"That's it." Vincent nodded in satisfaction. "Remember, no matter what happens tonight, keep smiling. Even if someone throws wine in your face, smile and wipe it off with a tissue."

"What if someone takes action directly?" Matthew interjected.

"That's even better," Sean replied with a smile, on Vincent's behalf. "Nothing garners more sympathy than being publicly beaten. Americans love stories of the weak fighting back after being bullied!"

……

Now, let's return to the dinner party.

"Excuse me, everyone, I was just thinking about something happy."

Sean's laughter echoed through the banquet hall, and everyone stared at him as if he were a fool.

Who has offended him again?

"Damn it," Sean cursed inwardly, realizing he might have overdone it.

But the laughter had already escaped his lips, and there was no going back. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, he had only two choices: either slink back into the crowd and pretend nothing had happened, or... face the challenge head-on.

Sean chose the latter.

"Since everyone is looking at me," he cleared his throat and stepped out from the crowd, "I'll say a few words."

Before Mayor Howard on stage could react, Sean had already moved to the side of the stage, facing the group of reporters.

"That journalist friend just asked a very good question," he acknowledged, "about where community funding goes, about whether taxpayers' money is being used properly. I noticed that the important figures present seemed somewhat hesitant."

Upon hearing this, Watkins' expression changed, and Donovan's eyes became wary.

"I understand the city government's difficulties, so I wasn't mocking them just now." Sean gave a wry smile. "In today's environment, no one is willing to risk public condemnation by touching on those sensitive topics. Saying too much is discrimination, saying too little is indulgence, and either way, it's wrong."

He looked around and continued.

"But I'm different."

"I'm not a politician, I'm not a businessman, I'm just an ordinary American citizen. Oh, and an American citizen facing charges!"

"Therefore, I can say things that others dare not say."

The audience gradually quieted down, and even the previously noisy reporters stopped asking questions and listened attentively to his speech.

"There's been a lot of discussion online lately about how certain community organizations use their funds," Sean said. "First, I want to clarify one thing: this isn't an attack on any particular ethnicity or group. It's a questioning of the entire system."

"In this country, billions of dollars in federal and state government funding flow to various community service agencies every year. The money is well-intentioned, meant to help those in need. But the question is, is all of this money actually being used where it's needed?"

"I don't know. I don't have the answer. I'm just someone who asks questions."

He finally looked at Mayor Howard, whose expression was complex.

"I believe that everyone here is an honest and dedicated public servant and a kind and charitable person. I believe they will respond to the public's concerns with their actions. I also believe that any truly conscientious institution will welcome open and transparent audits."

The reporters looked at each other, momentarily at a loss for what to ask next.

Mayor Howard, relieved, continued, "Thank you, Mr. Pan, for your... constructive suggestions. We will certainly take public concerns seriously and release the investigation results in due course."

The atmosphere gradually eased.

But just when everyone thought this scene was about to end, Sean spoke again.

"By the way, Mr. Watkins," he turned to the suave philanthropist, still sporting a radiant smile, "you mentioned in your speech that some people always like to make noise in the shadows?"

Watkins looked a little embarrassed: "Kid, I was just referring to someone in general..."

"I know, I know." Sean waved his hand, his tone as relaxed as if he were chatting casually. "You're talking about those baseless rumor-mongers, right? I hate those kinds of people too."

"However—"

He took a step closer and lowered his voice, but his voice was just loud enough to be picked up by the microphones around him.

"I suggest you go back and investigate whether any of the organizations your foundation funds are being sabotaged by any... shady characters. After all, you can't afford to have your reputation as a philanthropist ruined so easily."

After saying that, he raised his champagne glass and gestured to Watkins.

"Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Watkins."

Watkins' face was ashen, but under everyone's gaze, he could only manage a smile that looked worse than a grimace.

"...I wish you the same, Mr. Pan."

Sean smiled with satisfaction, turned around, and walked back into the crowd.

The dinner continued.