1668-1670

Chapter 1668: The Price of Fame 

Anson finished speaking at a leisurely pace, his words flowing freely yet deliberately. Noticing Scarlett’s thoughtful expression, he cracked a small joke. 

“Sorry, I said a whole lot, but it’s like I said nothing at all. We just circled back to square one.” 

Scarlett looked up, gradually snapping out of her thoughts. “Ha, you know it! You rambled on, but we’re right back where we started.” 

“‘You decide for yourself, I can’t make the choice for you.’ A bunch of useless chatter,” she added. 

Anson spread his hands. “Obviously. If I made the decision for you and it flopped, would I have to take responsibility for your career?” 

“Besides, you already know where I stand, don’t you?” 

Scarlett didn’t quite follow his rhythm. “Hm?” 

Anson grinned. “I invited you here, so of course I’m hoping you’ll say yes. No matter the project, I want you to nod and take the risk with me.” 

“Didn’t you notice I went out of my way to avoid your agent just so we could meet alone?” 

Scarlett finally got it, her smile returning. “So you were pretending to be all objective and neutral, but secretly fanning the flames?” 

Anson raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who asked for my opinion.” 

Looking at Anson’s unapologetic expression, Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh. Words were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them. After a moment’s thought, she spoke anyway. “Sorry, my mistake. I shouldn’t have changed the subject. We’re not here to talk about my career.” 

Anson shrugged. “I don’t mind. Playing therapist for a bit and getting some juicy industry gossip is never a bad thing.” 

Scarlett couldn’t hold back. “Haha!” 

“True, I can’t deny it. From now on, I’ll have to watch out for you. If this gets out, I’ll have Brian blacklist you.” 

She said it with a straight face, lips pursed. 

Anson played along, feigning regret. “Damn. Kicked the hornet’s nest this time.” 

Their back-and-forth was lively and fun. 

A brief pause hung between their words when raucous laughter erupted from the booth next door, crashing into their space like a flood breaking through a dam, filling their ears with noise. 

They had to stop talking. Scarlett looked at Anson, her eyes brimming with amusement, waiting until the noise settled slightly before speaking. “Is this why you picked this place?” 

Anson nodded. “Partly.” 

“Look, we’re always wrapped up in the spotlight, cut off from real life, real people, stuck in a bubble. But here, you can feel the pulse of life.” 

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “This lively?” 

Their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing. Then, a snippet of conversation from the next booth caught their attention. 

“Scarlett Johansson, any time, any place.” 

Scarlett: ? 

Anson: ? 

“I don’t like her latest stuff. It’s so boring. God, when will they stop making these pretentious art films?” 

“I don’t care about the movie. As long as she’s on screen, it’s a visual treat. I’m sold.” 

Anson’s eyebrow twitched slightly. 

Scarlett flashed a wry smile, raising her whiskey glass and mouthing, “Sorry.” 

Who would’ve thought that in a place like this, the one being discussed wouldn’t be Anson, the summer blockbuster star, but Scarlett, who’d been red-hot since last year? 

Anson wasn’t surprised at all. He glanced at the booth—all men. If his name came up in that conversation, that would be the real shock. 

“She’s not my type. I’m into that other one.” 

“Blonde, girl-next-door vibe. What’s her name? Bet you could get her to your bedroom with just a cup of coffee.” 

Scarlett: …Amanda Seyfried? 

“Amanda Seyfried!” 

The booth erupted in cheers, the guys getting all riled up. 

“No, she’s not like that. Are you mixing her up with Paris Hilton?” 

“I’m talking about Scarlett Johansson. Something’s off about her eyes. They’ve got this hazy glow, like she’s seducing you every second.” 

“She’s probably high or drunk. Always in and out of rehab. Either way, she seems… open.” 

“You know, most girls have some self-respect, they don’t flaunt it. But her? She’s all in, sending signals like she’s desperate. Trust me, anyone could have a shot.” 

“If I showed up, she’d probably get on her knees and beg me…” 

“Hahaha.” 

The air turned cold and tense. 

Despite the rowdy chatter next door, Anson could sense Scarlett’s discomfort. 

She tried to stay calm, maintaining a composed facade as she looked at him, but her fingers gripping the whiskey glass trembled slightly. 

Anson opened his mouth to say something, but the noise from the booth was too aggressive, the words growing bolder and filthier, completely unrestrained. 

This was reality. When people saw actors on screen, they assumed they had the right to judge them, never considering that actors were real people with souls, personalities, emotions, joys, and pains. To them, actors were just commodities. 

“You know, stats say over 50% of people think female actors are no different from streetwalkers.” 

“Haha, where’d you hear that?” 

“I’m saying Scarlett’s like your personal actress. You can do whatever you want with her, and she’ll take it—beg for more, even.” 

“If you wanted, you could make her bark like a dog. She’d probably nail it.” 

Hahaha, hahaha. 

The vile laughter roared in their ears. Anson could see Scarlett lower her eyes, struggling to hide her emotions, her eyes faintly red. She lifted her whiskey glass to shield her face, turning slightly as if wishing to disappear into the shadows. 

Scarlett—always bold, always confident—now looked embarrassed and fragile, desperately hiding, as if she wanted to crawl into a hole. 

She still tried to act tough, sitting up straight, but under Anson’s gaze, the pain was gnawing at her, almost unbearable. 

Anson flashed a smile. “Excuse me for a moment.” 

Scarlett caught his words. “No, don’t. It’s not a big deal.” Her face was full of worry. “Anson, you…” 

Anson Wood, the hottest actor globally right now—if he stepped in, this could blow up. The last thing Scarlett wanted was to drag him into this. 

“They’re not worth it…” Scarlett tried to stop him. She was used to these kinds of comments. 

But Anson turned toward the booth anyway. 

Scarlett reached for his arm, desperate to keep him out of this mess. If he got involved, he’d likely get splashed with the same dirty water. 

But Anson dodged, leaving her grasping at air. Before she could catch her breath, he was already at the next booth. 

“Hey, good evening.” 

Anson’s voice rang out, and the crude laughter stopped dead. The men in the booth froze, staring at him in stunned silence, completely dumbfounded. 

The room went quiet, everyone still as statues. 

Chapter 1669: Striking Back 

Shock. 

A wave of shock hit them head-on, pinning all four men to their seats, frozen in place, mouths and eyes locked in disbelief. 

Dark, twisted, timid, helpless. 

Anson Wood. 

Dear God, that was Anson Wood! 

Was there anyone left in the world who didn’t recognize that face? 

For a moment, the four men didn’t know whether to be stunned that they were seeing Anson in person or shocked that he was actually paying them a visit. 

The loudest guy in the booth shot to his feet, his face bursting with uncontainable excitement, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as a shout erupted from his chest. 

“Anson!” 

Splatter. 

In his excitement, he didn’t notice the pizza sauce dripping onto his shirt or the drool leaking from his open mouth. Flustered, he wiped at his chin and glanced at his stained shirt, but there was no time to care. Eagerly, he looked up at Anson. 

Anson, ever the gentleman, carried himself with effortless charm, as if meeting a fan. He gave a slight nod. “Sorry to interrupt. I was hoping I didn’t overhear your conversation.” 

“But I did.” 

Anson spread his hands, his smile still in place, but his tone shifted. The disdain and contempt in his eyes were unmasked, as if he’d just seen something filthy. 

“Oh, God, you guys are pathetic. Sitting here, running your mouths about someone you’ll never even get close to, trying to flex your masculinity while completely oblivious to how small and foolish you look. Your self-righteous egos are so ugly, and your so-called dignity amounts to this much.” 

He squinted, holding up his thumb and forefinger, measuring their worth before pinching them closer, then closer still. 

The standing man’s face darkened. Forgetting who Anson was, he exploded, jumping up and firing back without restraint. 

“Get lost! What are you, her dad?” 

“Or what, did we hit a nerve? Is that your story?” 

Hahaha! 

The other men in the booth roared with laughter, spit, sweat, alcohol, and food scraps flying through the air. They eyed Anson with smug disdain, their suggestive glances unmistakable. 

Anson’s expression didn’t waver, his smile steady. “What, you planning to kneel and lick my shoes, begging me to introduce you losers to her?” 

“Oh, no. My bad. I shouldn’t compare you to dogs—that’s an insult to dogs. They’re man’s best friend. You’re more like their excrement.” 

The air froze, thick with tension. 

The four men in the booth clenched their fists, faces flushed red, looking like they might explode any second. Their furious glares locked on Anson, vile words teetering on the edge of their tongues, ready to unleash on him. 

But Anson didn’t back down. He stared them down with a casual, condescending air, his dismissive and provocative gaze sweeping over them one by one. 

A single look, laced with such intense humiliation and contempt, incinerated the last shred of their dignity and reason. 

One by one, they stood up. 

Anson didn’t retreat. Instead, he took a half-step forward, his aura of menace and pressure crashing down on the small space. The taut energy and cold indifference in his eyes radiated a ruthless vibe. Two of the men couldn’t hold up and collapsed back into their seats. 

Involuntarily, they swallowed hard, unable to meet Anson’s gaze. 

The leader’s throat went dry, his clenched fists barely keeping him steady. “You wouldn’t dare! What if we leak this to TMZ?” 

Anson laughed—a short, sharp bark. The threat was so pathetic it held no weight. “Why don’t you test me and find out if I dare?” 

As he spoke, he cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate. Not only did he not back off, he stepped closer. 

“Here’s the deal. I beat you all senseless—not too bad, just a few broken bones. Then you sue me, and my lawyers drag it out for a year or two, making your lives hell.” 

“After that, it depends on my mood. If I’m feeling generous, I’ll settle out of court for a million bucks. But if I don’t like the look of you, you’ll take the beating for nothing. Believe me?” 

His demeanor was poised, his smile still charming, but his words sent a chill through the air. 

The four men shrank back in the booth, genuinely terrified— 

They believed Anson. Every single word. None of them dared provoke the devil standing before them. 

Their eyes darted, searching for an escape. 

The tension was electric, ready to ignite. 

Then Anson felt a tug from behind, someone pulling his arm to turn him around. 

He turned to see the back of Scarlett’s head. Though he couldn’t see her face, he could sense her tension, like she was on the verge of snapping. 

Anson’s voice softened with concern. “Scarlett?” 

Scarlett kept her head down, clutching her jacket to hide herself. “Anson, do you know how many people are watching you, waiting for you to slip up?” 

She glanced around, worried that others might notice the commotion and it could spiral into a disaster for Anson. 

Anson took a deep breath and gently grabbed Scarlett’s wrist. “You don’t need to worry about me. You shouldn’t worry about me.” 

“They’re the ones attacking you, spewing their arrogance and stupidity without restraint. They’re the ones in the wrong. So why are we the ones walking away?” 

Scarlett paused. “Because it’s our job. We chose this life, and that means dealing with the rumors and gossip.” 

Anson shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. Yes, it’s our job, and everyone has the right to judge or talk about us. But we also have the right to fight back.” 

“It’s our job, sure. But like you said, it’s just a job. Outside of work, we’re human too—flesh and blood, with our own struggles and lives. If they’ve got the nerve to insult us to our faces, we’ve got every right to hit back.” 

Scarlett started to speak, “But…” 

The words caught in her chest, unable to come out. 

Anson looked at her quietly. “If you’re worried about me, Scarlett, don’t be. They can’t hurt me—not even a hair. But if you’re worried about yourself…” 

He let out a soft breath. He couldn’t force a victim to confront their attackers. 

Not everyone knew this, but the cruel reality was that facing the person who hurt you took immense courage. 

Sometimes, even when you’re the victim, the aggressor’s confidence and self-righteousness can make you question yourself, wondering if you did something wrong. 

In his past life, Anson had been trapped in that cycle of self-blame for a long, long time, unable to break free. 

He looked at Scarlett, ready to pull her away, but to his surprise, Scarlett turned and walked back toward the men. 

Chapter 1670: Standing Tall 

Scarlett gazed quietly into Anson’s eyes. They were clear and bright, with a calm anger burning within, yet they retained a trace of clarity, unconsumed by rage. Beneath the intensity, there was a hint of gentleness and resilience. 

That single look carried more weight than words ever could. 

Scarlett didn’t want trouble. She knew those people would never let it go, and there was no need to stoop to their level. Most importantly, she didn’t want Anson to get caught up in the mess. 

But in that fleeting moment, Scarlett turned around. 

It happened so fast that Anson barely had time to react. He watched as Scarlett strode back to the booth. 

Instinctively, Anson started to follow. 

But after taking a single step, he stopped, his eyes fixed on Scarlett’s back. He could see her shoulders straighten, her posture becoming upright and dignified— 

She was no victim. 

All this time, Anson had held a stereotypical image of the Black Widow in his mind, as if that was Scarlett. But he’d forgotten that, role aside, the Scarlett standing before him was only twenty, far from the seasoned woman she’d later become. 

So, Anson stayed put, watching from the sidelines. 

Scarlett didn’t flinch. Far from it—she practically skipped over with light steps, flashing a smile and that captivating, hazy gaze. 

“Hi.” 

Her tone was cheerful, lively, natural. Scarlett politely interrupted them— 

The booth was steeped in dark, twisted curses, their vile words targeting Anson now, deliberately raised to show they weren’t afraid of him. The crude, disgusting vocabulary grew uglier, the four men erupting in greasy, raucous laughter. 

Until they were cut off. 

In an instant, their throats seemed to close up, their faces turning the color of eggplants, eyes bulging as if they might pop out. 

Dead silence. 

Even quieter than when Anson had appeared moments ago. It was as if breathing and heartbeats had been snuffed out. The men sat like mummies, utterly lifeless. 

Clink. 

A fork fell to the floor, shattering the silence and sending ripples through the air, making the men in the booth visibly flinch. 

Scarlett’s smile bloomed perfectly. “I just wanted to apologize on behalf of my friend. He’s a bit too sensitive.” 

The ringleader stood up, dazed, his eyes clouded with confusion, his jaw practically unhinged. “No, sorry…” 

Scarlett’s smile grew even brighter as she waved it off. “No, no, no, it’s fine. I know, I believe you didn’t mean it. Just some good-natured teasing, right? No need to take it seriously. I’m sure your… equipment is the size of a peanut, which is probably why you’re always fantasizing about these jokes, yeah?” 

“Carry on with your meal, please.” 

“The pizza’s meh, but the tuna’s pretty good. Oh, and the whiskey’s not bad either.” 

Light, humorous, witty. 

With effortless ease, she bantered, then… that was it. 

Without lingering, Scarlett turned and waved energetically at Anson. “Let’s go. No need to disturb these gentlemen’s dinner.” 

Her upbeat demeanor suggested she was ready to dive into the night’s festivities. 

In stark contrast, the four men in the booth sat frozen like mummies, slowly withering. The life in their eyes faded into dust, drifting away. They didn’t dare move a finger, as if the slightest motion might make them crumble into nothingness. 

Anson stood there, taking in the scene, making no particular move. A single dismissive glance was enough—as if they were just a bunch of insignificant bugs. 

And that was the truth. Just bugs. 

Anson shifted his gaze to Scarlett, extending his right hand in a chivalrous gesture, inviting her to join him. 

Scarlett hooked her arm through his, and together they turned, stepping lightly and unhurriedly as they left. 

Whoosh! 

Pushing open the door, a gust of wind hit them. Only then did they realize night had fully settled, the city cloaked in a hazy glow. Though it was still August, Los Angeles’ temperature swing brought a hint of autumn chill, goosebumps prickling their arms. 

Anson slipped on his jacket, about to remind Scarlett to do the same, but noticed her attention was elsewhere. She rushed forward, clearly upset. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. God, I shouldn’t have.” 

Scarlett looked up at the sky, exasperated. 

Anson quickly caught up. “No, you did great.” 

Scarlett let out a long sigh. “I was too reckless, too stupid. Believe it or not, by tomorrow, Hollywood might be buzzing with rumors about us.” 

“No, rumors would be the least of it. Worse, they might throw all the dirt on you. Anson, I can’t drag you into this… I should’ve stayed calm.” 

“Idiots like them are everywhere. I can’t argue with every single one—it just makes me look foolish.” 

Regret. Anger. Frustration. 

Emotions swirled within her, leaving Scarlett visibly agitated. The calm from their earlier conversation was gone, replaced by new waves of turmoil. 

Anson tried to interject but hesitated, waiting patiently for her to let out the pent-up frustration before responding calmly. “So, are you calling me foolish?” 

Scarlett froze. “What?” 

Anson shrugged lightly. “I was the one who lost control first.” 

Scarlett shook her head. “No, that’s different. You were standing up for me, playing the friend card…” 

Anson cut in. “Exactly. If it’s right for me to stand up for a friend, then it’s just as right for you to stand up for your own dignity and hit back.” 

Scarlett paused, caught off guard. 

Anson continued, “Sure, there are countless idiots like that. If we responded to every one, we’d exhaust ourselves. Might as well quit acting and set up a ring under the Hollywood sign, brawling with them every day until we keel over.” 

Scarlett couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. Pfft! 

Anson shrugged again. “We don’t need to stoop to their level. But when they come at us, if we just swallow it, that’s too stifling.” 

Scarlett studied Anson quietly for a moment. “If they were talking about you, would you fight back?” 

Without a second’s hesitation, Anson replied, “Yes, I would. I’d tell them there’s hair in today’s pizza. And they can keep being jealous, because those broke, unemployed losers living in their parents’ basements, surviving on welfare, will never even touch a finger of mine.” 

“Haha!” Scarlett laughed out loud, looking at Anson in disbelief, her smile fully blooming. “Hahaha!” 

“Now I believe you were holding back earlier,” she said. “The real firepower’s right here. They should be thanking their lucky stars they dodged that bullet.” 

Anson placed his right hand over his heart, bowing in a perfect courtly gesture of thanks. 

The simple act made Scarlett laugh even harder, doubling over with joy. In the wild night breeze, her mood brightened once more. 

(End of Chapter)