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

The following morning, in a coffee shop in Philadelphia.

Rachel Jones walked in, her cheeks slightly flushed from the cold wind outside. She was wearing a khaki trench coat, her blonde hair neatly styled in a bun, and black-rimmed glasses, looking more capable than when she was in Los Angeles.

Sean was sitting by the window. When he saw her come in, he was about to get up to greet her when Rachel strode over, threw her handbag on the chair, and sat down irritably.

Sean glanced at the number above her head: [65].

It's alright, at least I don't dislike him as much as before.

"A latte, no sugar," Rachel said to the waiter, then turned to Sean. "Is this your way of treating guests? I flew for five hours and didn't even see a single person waiting to pick me up."

"I'm sorry, Rachel." Sean looked at Rachel gently. "You know I'm a big shot in Philadelphia now. Airports are crowded and noisy places. If paparazzi take pictures of us together, it won't be good for your reputation."

"Besides, you reporters are too fast on your feet, how can I keep up?"

"Don't give me that." Rachel's eyes were sharp. "I know you're just in a hurry to get something from me, not because you genuinely care about me. So, tell me, why did you call me all the way from Los Angeles?"

"Of course there's big news for you. Those previous reports must have boosted your fame quite a bit, right? I heard that even Fox News is now watching your column and criticizing it." Sean didn't really want to deny what she said, but just laughed jokingly.

"Thanks to you," Rachel rolled her eyes. "Now the Republican media sees me as a thorn in their side, calling me a mouthpiece for the radical left."

"Oh right, I almost forgot. Let's settle things first. What about the Muslim community mutual aid center? Is it true or false? Besides that video, do you have any concrete data or evidence?"

As a journalist, she still has professional ethics. Although the online debate is heated, without solid evidence, it's like a ticking time bomb that could backfire at any moment.

"That... that's old news. News has a time limit, Rachel. Everyone has already seen the video, the focus shouldn't be on that now," Sean said, feigning ignorance.

"You're avoiding the issue."

Rachel's favorability rating dropped slightly.

"I'm giving you a better chance," Sean said softly. "That community center is just an appetizer. I have a real big story in my hands that, if handled well, could even win you a Pulitzer Prize."

"Here we go again." Rachel sighed helplessly. "Sean, I think you're the one who should be winning a Hollywood Guild Award, for Best Screenplay or Best Actor. The awards ceremony is next month, you should just go back to California and accept it, instead of wasting your time here."

"No, this isn't over yet." Sean's smile faded, and he said seriously, "The big news I want to tell you is about 'Saving Chinatown'."

Rachel frowned slightly after hearing his brief explanation.

"I know about this, but in terms of timeliness, this matter is much more 'ancient,' isn't it?" she said disappointedly. "Besides, this is a local Philadelphia matter. Why don't you contact the Philadelphia Inquirer? They know this place better."

“Precisely because they’re locals,” Sean said. “The Philadelphia Inquirer has a lot to do with Comcast, and Comcast was the 76ers’ original landlord. Even though they’re splitting up now, nobody in this circle wants to really offend anyone. I need an outsider, an influential outsider who dares to speak out and isn’t afraid to offend people.”

He looked directly into Rachel's eyes.

"That's you, the star reporter for the Los Angeles Times."

Rachel felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze, and took a sip of the coffee that had just been brought to her.

Her favorability rating immediately rose back to [67].

Even higher than before!

"Okay, even if I'm willing to write, how would you like me to approach this? If it's just about the pitiful residents of Chinatown, nobody will want to read that kind of article, and it won't create any sensation."

"It's not just about playing the victim, of course." Sean's lips curled into a wicked grin. "We're going to attack. We're going to target one person: that old dog Darrell Morey."

"The president of the 76ers?"

"That's right, this guy is inherently controversial. I need you to write a few commentaries criticizing his management skills and professional attitude."

"for example?"

"For example..." Sean thought for a moment, "You could write that he's addicted to video games, especially the Civilization series, which has led to him neglecting team management. You could say that he treats real-world team management like a turn-based game, completely disregarding the feelings of the players and the community."

"Pfft—" Rachel almost spat out her coffee. "Are you spreading rumors? How can you write this as news?"

"Why not?" Sean said matter-of-factly. "Isn't that how the news media always does it? They make their opinions sharper and their wording more exaggerated. And it's a fact that he really enjoys playing Civilization. I think with your intelligence, you can definitely package this point as evidence of 'executive negligence'."

Rachel stared at him speechlessly, but from this angle...

It's really tricky, and very eye-catching.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"And we need to play the economic card," Sean continued. "The 76ers are promoting the prosperity that the new arena will bring, but whose prosperity is it? It's the team owner's, it's the builder's. What about the Chinatown businesses that rely on meager profits? They'll be crushed by Hayek's big hand."

"Imagine the 76ers can make money from fans buying beer and hot dogs inside the arena, but what about the surrounding vendors? We should define this conflict as: the strangulation of hardworking small business owners by greedy capitalist giants."

Rachel gave a wry smile. "Sean, I didn't realize you were so compassionate?"

“Of course, otherwise how would I run for president?” Sean shrugged. “Don’t forget, Morey has previously supported some… well, not-so-bright political positions. This guy is a political idiot. We just need to portray him as an arrogant, cold-blooded, irresponsible elite to incite public outrage.”

Rachel thought for a moment and then offered her most crucial rebuttal.

"But Sean, they have a trump card that's hard to play: jobs. They can say the new arena will bring foot traffic to surrounding businesses and provide a lot of jobs for local residents. In the current economic downturn, that's a very convincing argument."

Sean had been waiting for her to say that.

He took out his phone, which displayed a data research report.

"Take a look at this."

"What is this?"

"These are the numbers from when the 76ers moved their headquarters to Camden in 2016," Sean said, pointing to the figures. "Back then, they promised to bring huge economic benefits and job opportunities to the Black and Latino residents of Camden, a poor area."

"And the result?" Sean chuckled coldly. "Of the 275 full-time employees at the 76ers headquarters now, guess how many are locals?"

"Nine!"

"Only six! Six out of 275. This is what they call 'creating jobs in the community.' They just moved their headquarters there to avoid taxes because Camden isn't in Pennsylvania, it's in New Jersey. They also brought their original elites to work there, even the cleaners were probably brought over by outsourcing companies. The locals can't even get a decent living."

"This is the fact we want to show the public. It serves as a lesson when they promised to create jobs in Chinatown."

Rachel stared at Sean's phone, remaining silent for a long time.

She looked up and re-examined the man in front of her.

After their Christmas break, he progressed even faster than she had imagined!

"Are you still Sean Penn?" Rachel asked, her tone complicated. "The old con man who used to spout nonsense seems to have disappeared."

"Hey, I wasn't a liar before!" Sean protested.

Rachel couldn't help but laugh when she saw his aggrieved look.

"Fine," she adjusted her glasses, "if you really want to prove you're not a liar, then find a way to get the prosecutor to drop the charges against you and clear your name completely. Or... release that damn list."

"That day will come," Sean said, looking out the window with a serious expression. "But not now. Right now, we need to win this battle first."

Rachel looked at his profile, and the scales in her heart tipped completely.

"Okay," she said, taking out a voice recorder. "I'll take the job. But I have one condition."

"you say."

"After this is done, I want your exclusive interview."

Sean turned his head and smiled:

"make a deal."