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

Chapter 83: A narrow escape from death is sure to bring further trouble.

We are bringing you the latest news from Philadelphia.

"This morning, a terrorist attack occurred at a press conference held at Philadelphia City Hall Plaza. A heavy pickup truck drove into the crowd, killing at least seven people and injuring twenty-three others."

According to witnesses, independent presidential candidate Sean Penn was giving a speech when a black pickup truck suddenly sped in from the east entrance of the square and crashed into the crowd.

"Fortunately, security personnel reacted quickly and initiated emergency evacuation procedures at the last minute; otherwise, the number of casualties could have been much higher. However, several journalists and citizens still tragically lost their lives."

Police have identified the driver of the pickup truck as a 26-year-old African American male named Dwayne Jackson. He died at the scene after the vehicle struck a roadblock.

"It is worth noting that Dwayne Jackson is the fourth suspect wanted by Philadelphia police for assaulting officers. He is suspected of involvement in a carjacking incident in January of this year—"

"It is currently unclear whether this attack is related to the armored carjacking, or whether anyone else was behind it. The FBI has launched an investigation."

"As for Sean Penn himself, according to the hospital, he suffered minor injuries in the attack and is currently receiving treatment. His vital signs are stable."

"We will continue to monitor the situation and bring you the latest updates."

dark.

The boundless darkness.

Sean found himself standing in nothingness. He tried to take a step, but found that his body was bound by something and he could not move.

Then, everything vanished like bubbles, "Oh my god—"

Sean sat up in bed, covered in cold sweat.

But the blinding white light made him squint instinctively. Once his vision adjusted, he realized he was lying on a hospital bed.

"Hey, you're finally awake."

A familiar voice came from beside the bed.

Sean turned his head and saw Rachel Jones sitting on a chair by the bed, holding a cell phone.

This was the first time he had seen Rachel without her glasses.

Her pupils were a deep brown, quite different from the gold of her hair. Without those thick, black-rimmed glasses, her features appeared even softer.

Why are you staring at me like that?

Rachel frowned, put down her phone, and looked somewhat displeased.

"It's nothing, it's just that what you said just now reminded me of 'The Ancient Scrolls'," Sean looked away and tried to move his body, but found that his left arm was in a cast and his ribs were throbbing. "What's wrong with me—"

"Wait a moment."

Rachel stood up, pressed the call button by the bed, and said to Sean, "You've been unconscious for almost two days. Let the nurse check on you."

A few minutes later, a young female nurse hurried into the ward, carrying various instruments, and began to conduct a routine examination on Sean.

"Mr. Pan, all your vital signs are stabilizing," the nurse said after the examination. "You have a minor fracture in your left arm, two cracked ribs, and a mild concussion. Overall, you are recovering well."

"Rachel, what happened?" Sean asked. "I only remember a car rushing towards us—"

"The pickup truck crashed through the first roadblock," Rachel continued. "Your bodyguard reacted quickly and tackled you to the ground at the last moment. The pickup truck was stopped by the second roadblock less than three meters from you, but flying debris still hit you."

She paused for a moment.

"Your bodyguard pinned you down to protect you, but he used too much force, which aggravated your injuries. He was also injured, though less severely than you."

"Why is it so complicated—" he muttered to himself.

"Where is the driver?"

"He's dead." Rachel sighed. "He was the fourth suspect the police had been looking for, named Dwayne Jackson, nicknamed Big Dog. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt when the pickup truck hit the roadblock, and he flew right out of the windshield."

"How many people are there?

"Seven people died and twenty-three were injured," Rachel said in a low voice. "Most of them were journalists and staff at the scene. If the evacuation hadn't been timely, the casualties would have been much higher."

Sean closed his eyes, his feelings a mix of emotions. It was seven lives lost.

"This isn't your fault," Rachel reassured her with her cold words. "That person was after you. If anyone's to blame, blame those who are pulling the strings behind the scenes."

"Yes—" Sean opened his eyes. "Have you found out who ordered it?"

"Not yet. Dwayne Jackson died too quickly, without leaving any details. The FBI is investigating his social connections and financial dealings, but there are no leads yet."

Just then, the door to the ward was pushed open.

Matthew, Sarah, and Vincent filed in.

"Mr. Pan, you're finally awake." Matthew's face showed a relieved expression. "You almost scared us to death."

"Welcome back to the human world, boss." Sarah stepped forward as well. "The doctor said you're recovering very well and you can be discharged in a few more days."

Vincent walked to the foot of the bed, looking at Sean with a complicated expression: "Mr. Pan, there are some things we need to discuss as soon as possible. But first—how are you feeling?"

"Still alive," Sean said with a wry smile. "That's enough."

"It's great that you're still alive."

Matthew took a small red cloth bag out of his pocket and walked to Sean's bedside.

"What's this?" Sean asked, looking at the bag with a puzzled expression.

"A good luck charm," Matthew said seriously. "My mother got it from a temple in Chinatown. She said you are a benefactor of the Chinese community and she must protect you from bad luck."

As he spoke, he hung the cloth bag on Sean's hospital bed.

"Also—" Matthew pulled a small bundle of what looked like hay from another pocket. "This is mugwort. My dad said to burn it by your bedside to ward off bad luck."

"Wait, wait, wait!" the nurse quickly stopped her. "This is a hospital; you can't light fires here."

Matthew put away the mugwort with a hint of regret, but still gestured a few times by Sean's bedside.

"Never mind, the meaning is conveyed."

Sean looked at Matthew's serious expression and couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time.

"Thank you, Matthew. And please thank your mother for me too."

"Of course," Matthew grinned.

"By the way, where's Kelly?" Sean looked around but didn't see the white-haired old man. "I need to discuss something with him. It's about the arrangements for going to California."

"Mr. Kelly hasn't arrived yet," Vincent said. "He went to Washington yesterday to see some old friends. He should be back soon."

"Washington?" Sean frowned.

"Speaking of California—" Vincent's tone became somewhat serious, "Mr. Pan, some things happened in California during the two days you were unconscious."

"What's going on?"

"Someone's started digging up your past online." Vincent took out his phone, pulled up a few web pages, "—

Some California-based social media accounts and influencers have begun to widely publicize your dark history from your Hollywood days.

Sean took the phone and scrolled through the headlines.

"Shocking: Sean Penn acted like a diva on set, and the supporting actress was brought to tears by his words."

Exclusive scoop: Sean Penn once mistakenly entered a women's restroom and was complained about by multiple women.

"An insider revealed that Sean Penn was drinking heavily on set, causing a three-day delay in filming."

"That's it?" Sean's lips twitched slightly after reading the headlines.

He handed the phone back to Vincent with a wry smile.

"What kind of dark history is this? Rachel, your newspaper would be fired if they reported something like this, right?"

What he was thinking was: I have an even darker past.

Compared to those, these minor squabbles are nothing to worry about.

"The problem is," Vincent said with some concern, "that these reports are spreading very quickly in California. Your reputation has already started to suffer before you even get there."

"Don't worry." Sean waved his hand. "The more you try to cover up your dark past, the more people will hold onto it. On the contrary, if you openly admit it and say that you were young and naive, everyone will forget about it quickly."

He looked at everyone, his tone becoming more relaxed.

"Don't look so gloomy. What I need most right now is rest, not to see you all with such miserable faces."

Sarah managed a weak smile, but it quickly faded.

"Mr. Pan—" She hesitated for a moment, then spoke, "There's something I must tell you."

"What is it?"

Sarah took a deep breath.

"I—I might not be able to go to California with you."

Sean paused for a moment, then said, "Is it because of those embarrassing past events? I really never went into the women's restroom!"

"No," Sarah shook her head. "It's my family who won't allow it. My parents were terrified after the attack. They absolutely refuse to let me stay with you anymore. They think it's too dangerous."

"—I see, I understand." Sean nodded. "Your safety is the top priority."

"But—" Sarah turned to look at Matthew, who had been standing silently to the side, "I hope Matthew can bravely pursue his dreams."

Her voice was choked with emotion.

"Matthew, from the first day I met you, I knew you were a man of ideals. You shouldn't be stuck in Philadelphia, stuck in that little campaign office. You should be on a bigger stage, doing something more meaningful."

Matthew stared blankly at Sarah, his eyes gradually reddening.

"Sara————"

"Promise me, Matthew," Sarah said, taking his hand. "No matter what happens, you have to keep going."

This is your dream, and it's my dream too.

Matthew couldn't hold back any longer.

He hugged Sarah tightly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Sarah—I will—I definitely will—"

The only sound in the ward for a moment was Matthew's suppressed sobs.

As Sean watched this scene, the smile on his face gradually disappeared, replaced by a complex expression.

To be precise, it was contempt.

Seriously? You're crying already? It's like a life-or-death situation. It's just going to California, not Mars!

Just then, the door to the ward was pushed open again.