1411-1415

*Chapter 1411: A Sudden Realization*

"You should take a look at yourself. And to think you're the dream man of millions of young women. Ha."

Lucas didn't hesitate to throw out a jab.

Anson didn't have a mirror in hand to check himself, but a quick glance at his current state—his body drenched in sweat, alternating between chills and heat—gave him a pretty good mental image of how he looked.

Clearly, though, Anson didn't care. He shrugged lightly. "It's called charm, you know? This is all about charisma."

Lucas narrowed his eyes, his face set in a deadpan expression as he stared at Anson with an air of complete indifference.

He didn’t get it.

Anson let out an exasperated sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "You don't get it. And if you don't get it, don't pretend you do, okay? My success in Hollywood isn’t just about my looks."

"But… seeing as you're just as miserable and pathetic as I am today, I'll let it slide. Hahaha! You probably have no idea what you look like right now. If you did, you wouldn't be sitting there so calmly."

"Oh God, Luca, I never thought I'd see you like this."

"But."

"Thanks."

Amid the laughter and arrogance, Lucas had been ready to fire back, but Anson abruptly shifted gears. Without warning, he looked over with genuine sincerity.

Lucas was caught off guard. His usual mask failed to come up in time, and his face betrayed a chaotic mix of emotions—gratitude, sadness, concern, and a fleeting sense of relief. For a brief moment, his vulnerability was laid bare.

Unable to hold himself up any longer, Lucas collapsed into his seat.

Seeing his disheveled state only made Anson laugh harder. His boisterous, carefree laughter filled the room, echoing against the walls and making Lucas’ eardrums buzz.

At first, Lucas felt a bit embarrassed, but as he watched Anson, he couldn't help it—his own laughter slipped out. And once it started, it wouldn't stop.

"Haha… Hahahaha!"

The Wood brothers sat there, looking at each other's utterly wrecked appearances, finding it all so ridiculous that they just kept laughing. The meeting room was soon filled with their laughter, growing louder and more uncontrollable.

Then, Mangold came sprinting in, gasping for breath—only to freeze in confusion at the scene before him.

Mangold: ???

Wasn't Anson supposed to have locked himself in the meeting room? Wasn't he supposed to be spiraling out of control, shutting everyone out? Wasn't his situation supposed to be so dire that the whole crew was panicking?

Then what the hell was this?

And what about Lucas?

Mangold had never seen this side of Lucas before. Anyone capable of making Kitsch shut up was no angel—but the Lucas in front of him seemed completely different.

Huff. Huff.

Mangold was no fitness enthusiast. He hardly ever took walks, let alone sprinted anywhere. Just this short dash had left him breathless. As he stood there, panting heavily, looking at the relaxed, grinning faces of Lucas and Anson, he was utterly dumbfounded.

Anson noticed him and looked up. "Hey, Director."

Mangold was about to respond, but suddenly, his stomach twisted.

Urgh.

He gagged, leaning against the doorframe, his face pale. Compared to Anson and Lucas, he didn’t look much better himself.

After a long struggle, he finally managed to regain control. Wiping his mouth, his eyes still swimming, he stammered, "Anson… Anson…"

Anson and Lucas exchanged a glance.

"Director, you should sit down," Anson suggested. "You look terrible."

As more crew members peeked in, Cody witnessed the bizarre scene unfold.

Lucas and Anson, though disheveled, seemed at ease, like they were fine. Meanwhile, Mangold looked completely exhausted, on the verge of collapse.

Cody: ???

Mangold slumped into a chair, fishing an energy bar out of his pocket to get his blood sugar up. Only after a few bites did he finally catch his breath. But his mind was still a mess—he knew he had something urgent to say, yet he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was.

Anson took the initiative. "Director, I have an idea."

Mangold, still chewing on his energy bar, lacked the strength to respond verbally, so he just gave a nod, signaling that he was listening.

Unbothered by the strange atmosphere, Anson sat cross-legged on the floor, ready to pitch his thoughts.

"Director, look—this entire film can be seen as Johnny Cash's journey of growth, transformation, and, most importantly, self-redemption."

"Throughout his career, he faced doubt, temptation, and darkness, never quite reaching the peak before his scars weighed him down."

"Without a doubt, June Carter played a crucial role in his life. Through their relationship, he learned to reflect on himself, to question his actions. Through ups and downs, he matured—not just becoming a better person, but also finding his purpose in music."

"But what about the root of it all?"

"All the doubt, all the confusion—it stems from his family. His father, his mother, his brother. The wounds from his childhood made Johnny question himself, filling him with uncertainty, insecurity, hesitation, and even anger. This isn't about justifying his actions or making them seem reasonable—it's about confronting our fears so we can truly be reborn."

"With June Carter's support, Johnny escaped the darkness. But with music, he finally found the courage to face the deepest, most painful wounds of his soul."

In a two-hour film, there was no way to capture the entirety of Johnny Cash’s vast and turbulent life. Instead, they had to select key moments—snapshots that would allow audiences to understand Johnny not just as a musician, but as a human being and an icon.

Naturally, the film’s framework and narrative arc were critical.

"Walk the Line" already had all of this in place, but now, Anson had a new spark of inspiration.

Mangold immediately understood. "You mean…?"

Anson patted the ground. "Folsom Prison. Not only was it a turning point in Johnny Cash's career, but it could also serve as a turning point in his life."

In reality, Johnny Cash’s awakening and transformation didn’t necessarily happen at Folsom Prison. There might not have even been a single definitive moment or place where it occurred. But in storytelling, they needed to refine, weave, and reframe events to create a powerful emotional impact.

Mangold tilted his head slightly. "You're saying that before the Folsom Prison concert, Johnny gets lost in his thoughts inside the meeting room? That he relives the wounds of his childhood, journeys through his past, and finally, by the time he arrives at Folsom Prison, he has the courage to face himself?"

"And to embrace both the artist and the man within him—starting a brand-new chapter," Anson added.

Mangold’s eyes lit up. "So we begin and end with music, bringing the focus back to his art and performance in the final moments?"

Everything clicked—

It fit seamlessly with both Mangold’s and Kitsch’s creative vision.

A single spark of inspiration ignited an explosion of ideas.

Mangold glanced around the meeting room. "So… is this what you were doing in here? Thinking back on Johnny's life?"

---

Chapter 1412: The Perfect Loop

“So, is this what you were just doing here? Reflecting on Johnny’s life?”

Mangold looked around the space, his eyes showing a hint of surprise.

Anson glanced at Lucas, a meaningful smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “Something like that.”

Mangold turned back to Anson. At this moment, Anson’s disheveled and distressed state seemed to make sense. Mangold had thought that as the filming neared its end, he had a good grasp of Anson. But time and again, Anson managed to surprise them, always shattering their expectations in unexpected ways.

Caught between surprise and curiosity, Mangold thought for a moment before asking, “But why?”

“I mean, why here? Just because of the Folsom Prison album?”

Anson shook his head. “No, because of the prison.”

“Johnny Cash had been to prison himself—because of some foolish choices. But more than that, even before he ever set foot in a jail cell, he was already trapped in a prison of his own.”

“To his father, J.R. was the one who killed his beloved youngest son. There was no trial, but in his father’s eyes, J.R. had already been sentenced to life.”

“And the cruelest part? He had no way to atone, no chance for redemption. He was locked in that cage, and he chose to stay there, refusing to forgive himself.”

“Until June Carter came along.”

Mangold hiccupped, confusion and struggle written all over his face. “But it wasn’t his fault.”

Anson looked at Lucas. “Right, it wasn’t his fault. It was just an accident. But sometimes, things aren’t that simple. Right and wrong aren’t always black and white. That’s the most complicated part of human nature.”

Lucas froze. His gaze dropped, his face retreating into the shadows. But the way his hands gripped the edge of the table betrayed the turmoil inside.

Only Anson’s voice continued, flowing softly like a steady rhythm in the background, echoing in their ears.

“Until one day, he finally realized that everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Well… maybe not everyone.”

“Some people are beyond saving. Some refuse to repent, refuse to change. Some commit unforgivable crimes. But if someone is willing to step out of the darkness, to turn their back on their past, maybe—just maybe—they deserve another chance. Just like Johnny Cash.”

“The real question is—who gets to be the judge?”

“God? Gravity? Justice? Fate? At the very least, Johnny never saw himself as a judge. He was just a guide, an advocate.”

“There are many ways to seek redemption.”

“Carrying the weight of others and chasing happiness is one way. Lighting the spark of dreams and hope is another…”

His words paused slightly.

Lucas immediately noticed. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Anson. These words—they were meant for him.

But this time, Anson didn’t look back. As if he hadn’t even realized the deeper meaning behind his own words.

Mangold also hesitated, glancing at Anson with a new intensity.

Anson simply smiled and continued, as if he had only paused to catch his breath.

“Or perhaps, through music, we build bridges. We awaken the goodness and justice within people. We restore their faith in hope and the future. We give them the courage to start over, to take a step forward, to chase their dreams. The courage to embrace the sunlight, to believe in change—not just for themselves, but for the world around them.”

Little by little, inspiration ignited into a storm—

Mangold jumped in seamlessly.

“It starts in a prison. It ends in a prison. It has to be a prison. Because before J.R. ever embarked on his music career, before he even started his life, he was already trapped. The prison of his own childhood, of his own family, had caged his soul.”

“That’s why the Folsom Prison concert became the pinnacle of Johnny’s music. Reality shaped the art, and in return, the art illuminated reality.”

Muttering under his breath, lost in thought, Mangold barely noticed the others. His words tumbled out, faster and more excited, his hands beginning to move as if conducting an unseen orchestra.

“Ah! If that’s the case…”

“We can add a new scene—before Johnny goes on stage, he sits in the dressing room, lost in thought. He revisits childhood memories: his father blaming him, rejecting him, even despising him. Seeing him as nothing more than a murderer.”

“We follow that memory, slipping naturally into his childhood, easing into the narrative. That way, we don’t start with childhood in a chronological, documentary-like fashion. It keeps the flow dynamic. We may not go as far as Gods and Monsters, where the boundaries between reality and memory blur entirely, but at the very least, we can create a loop within Johnny’s story.”

“And at the end of the movie, we return to the Folsom Prison concert—closing the loop, turning the whole film into one big flashback before he takes the stage.”

“I know, I know—flashbacks are the cheapest storytelling trick. Overused, lazy. A crutch for directors who can’t handle complex narratives in a straightforward way.”

“In TV dramas, quick and obvious flashbacks are everywhere.”

“But what if—what if we go all in?”

Anson chuckled. “That’s not a flashback. That’s a nonlinear narrative. A flashback over five minutes isn’t even a ‘flash’ anymore.”

“Besides, we can use the audience’s cheers and applause from Folsom Prison as a rhythmic pulse. Let Johnny feel their support, while also using it as a trigger—a bridge that pulls him into his memories.”

Mangold took a deep breath, staring at Anson. His eyes lit up. “Ah!”

Even though he remained seated, the entire scene had already played out in his mind—

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The prisoners, ecstatic and restless, overwhelmed with excitement. After all, how often do you get a concert inside a prison? And not just any concert—Johnny Cash.

Their claps became a heartbeat, a pulse, tearing through time and space, pulling Johnny back into his memories.

Mangold turned to Anson. “What about the dialogue?”

A script isn’t just visuals—it needs words. Were they really adding a whole new scene on the fly?

Anson shook his head. “No. We don’t need dialogue. Just the camera and the performance.”

Mangold tilted his head, thinking it over. Then suddenly, he shot to his feet, scanning the space around them—camera angles, lighting, actors. The scene came alive in his mind, vibrant and full of energy.

The film would begin with the distant echoes of a bluesy drumbeat, pulling the audience in, drawing Johnny Cash back into his past.

And it would end with the rhythmic claps of the prisoners, seamlessly merging the nonlinear timeline with reality—completing the perfect loop.

Chapter 1413: Facing the Wound

The scene played vividly in his mind. With rhythm and music giving it life, the imagery took shape effortlessly—

Inspiration surged like a flood.

Previously, Mangold had always felt that the final scene of the script lacked a certain spark.

From any perspective, ending the film with such a scene—placing a comma on Johnny Cash’s grand and tumultuous life—was fitting. Yet, Mangold still felt something was missing.

Unfortunately, that elusive feeling had no clear outlet, leaving him at a loss. He had no idea where to begin making changes.

But now, the answer was clear—

A loop, a callback, whether through flashback or reverse chronology. The ending of the story would form a complete cycle, shaping Johnny Cash’s character arc into something whole and vivid. Just like that, every issue resolved itself.

It was perfect.

Though the cost would be altering the entire structure of the film, this change was for the better. It would make the film complete.

A surge of indescribable passion ignited in his chest, burning fiercely.

Mangold had entirely forgotten the mess before him. He spread his arms wide and gave Anson a firm hug, unable to contain his excitement.

“My God, Anson, has anyone ever told you that you’re a genius? A born actor!”

An actor with such energy, yet labeled as just a pretty face—it wasn’t just unfair; it was Hollywood’s loss.

Anson grinned. “No, never.”

Mangold, brimming with enthusiasm, declared, “Well, I’m saying it now. You are a genius.”

“Just like Angelina Jolie—a true genius, misunderstood and overlooked. Believe me, people will eventually realize their narrow-mindedness and stupidity.”

Without waiting for a response, Mangold stumbled to his feet and strode toward the crew gathered outside.

“We need to add a scene—Anson’s solo performance.”

A collective gasp swept through the crowd.

Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, their faces filled with surprise—

They couldn’t keep up. What was happening?

In the blink of an eye, the meeting room was empty again, leaving only the Wood brothers.

Lucas’s expression had returned to calm, but the lingering distress on his face and the worry in his eyes betrayed the emotional storm that had just passed.

“You’re sure?”

Lucas was the first to speak, trying to cover up his own awkwardness. But his concern and nervousness were evident.

“Anson, I think you need to rest. You… you need a doctor.”

Even though Mangold was ecstatic and the film had seemingly received an incredible boost, Lucas couldn’t share in the joy. His heart was still pounding with anxiety.

The image of Anson, drenched in sweat and covered in wounds, crying out for help, was still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t just pretend that nothing had happened.

His words came out hesitant and cautious—

Stopping and starting, vague and uncertain.

Anson looked at Lucas and only felt a deep ache in his heart. He knew this reaction meant Lucas cared. It was because he cared that he had a weakness.

Anson smiled faintly. “What’s wrong? Worried I’ll see Jack again?”

That one sentence made Lucas press his lips tightly together, unable to hide the panic in his eyes.

He held his breath, his pupils and lips trembling slightly.

Anson’s smile turned a little bitter. He gazed into Lucas’s eyes, exhaled softly, and carefully chose his words.

“Lucas, I… I just saw Jack.”

“And nine-year-old Anson Wood.”

Fear exploded in Lucas’s eyes as if it had gripped his throat.

“We said our goodbyes.”

“I’ve been thinking… Maybe Jack is me. Maybe nine-year-old Anson Wood never disappeared. Maybe I’ve always remembered. Those memories never truly vanished. They… were just hidden in the corners of my soul, continuing to hurt me.”

“So, one day, I have to face them. I have to make peace with them, say goodbye. That’s the only way to keep living.”

“Just like Johnny Cash.”

Lucas’s heart clenched in fear, making it hard to breathe. He barely recognized his own trembling voice when he spoke.

“You’re sure?”

“I mean… about the goodbye?”

Anson chuckled. “No, I’m not sure.”

Lucas froze.

Seeing his reaction, Anson couldn’t help but laugh out loud, making Lucas sigh with a mix of helplessness and relief—

This was the Anson he wanted to see.

Anson said, “I can’t guarantee it.”

“They’re gone now. We’ve said our goodbyes. But I can’t be sure when they might come back. What do you think, Lucas? I can’t promise anything.”

“But now, I can tell the difference between illusion and reality. I won’t be trapped in hallucinations anymore. At the same time, I might need some help.”

“I need you guys by my side to help me stay grounded in reality.”

“Lucas, you’ll always be here, right? You and Mom and Dad?”

Lucas covered his face, overwhelmed with emotion, his heart nearly breaking apart.

“I’m sorry, Anson… This is all my fault…”

But this time, Anson interrupted him. “No, this isn’t anyone’s fault. Oh, wait, I take that back—it’s the fault of those criminals. I hope they rot in prison and suffer every single day.”

Lucas looked at him, torn between laughter and tears.

Anson blinked innocently. “I’m serious. I’m a petty, vengeful man. That’s the biggest difference between me and Johnny.”

Lucas finally let out a small laugh.

Anson continued, “I know for sure this isn’t your fault because I need my big brother.”

“As ridiculous as it all seems, Jack was real. So why was he just a hallucination? Why was I the only one who could see him? It’s like some cruel joke.”

“That’s why I need help. I need you all to help bring me back to reality.”

“Lucas, just like Mom and Dad, you’ll always be here, right?”

Anson repeated the question. It was the only way he could distinguish illusion from reality. He needed them. They were both his weakness and his heart.

Lucas looked at Anson in silence. Then, suddenly, his eyes welled up. He nodded, unable to hold back his emotions.

“Of course.”

Then he nodded again, more firmly.

“Of course!”

Anson clenched his fist. “Oh yeah!” He grinned at Lucas. “Sorry, but it looks like you guys are stuck with me for life. You ready for that?”

Lucas couldn’t help but burst into laughter through his tears, frustrated and amused.

“Anson Wood, now is NOT the time for jokes, okay? You idiot!”

Anson raised both hands in surrender, feigning innocence.

Lucas sighed deeply, shaking his head. “So… they’re gone? You don’t see them now?”

Anson nodded. “Yeah. At least for now.”

This time, he wasn’t joking.

“We said our goodbyes.”

“In a way, they’re part of me. I have to face those memories and that darkness. It’s the only way.”

“Oh, by the way—”

“All my memories of the kidnapping? They’re back.”

In an instant, the color drained from Lucas’s face. He turned deathly pale, as if all the blood had been sucked from his body.

*Chapter 1414: Full of Life*

One sentence. Just one sentence was enough.

Lucas’ greatest fear, his worst nightmare, had finally come true.

He thought he was prepared. He thought the weight on his chest had finally been lifted, that he no longer had to guess, no longer had to feel uneasy. But reality proved otherwise.

In an instant, Lucas forgot to breathe. A tingling sensation shot from his toes to the top of his head.

"This is a good thing," Anson said.

Anson looked at Lucas. "It means I'm finally ready to face it head-on. No more running, no more fear. I’m confronting that nightmare directly."

Lucas hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Anson nodded. "Yes."

"In fact, it's not just me. It's the same for all of you—Mom, Dad, and you."

"You’ve all refused to talk about it, refused to face it, but those wounds exist within you too. Maybe now is the time to confront them. What happened won’t disappear just because we stay silent or ignore it. In fact, silence and avoidance only allow those wounds to fester into ever-present nightmares."

That night at Mount Sinai Hospital—Charles and Nora’s argument had been just the tip of the iceberg.

Lucas felt a wave of panic—

But he kept reminding himself: this wasn’t about him. It was about Anson.

Maybe, just as Anson had said, that incident had affected their entire family. But if Anson had now found the courage to face his nightmares, they had no reason to keep running. Otherwise… what if Jack Forrest reappeared?

Taking a deep breath, Lucas steadied himself. "Maybe this isn’t the end."

"The end already came thirteen years ago. We’ve been living in the aftermath ever since. But now? Now is the beginning of something new," Anson quipped lightly.

Lucas was speechless. This guy… had he gotten addicted to cracking jokes?

Anson noticed Lucas’ expression and quickly raised his hands in surrender. "I’m just proving to you that I’m ready to get back to work."

Lucas' face remained serious. "Your mental state is one thing, but work is another. You still need to rest and recover. Just imagine—if Mom and Dad knew about what just happened, and then found out you immediately threw yourself back into work, how worried do you think they’d be?"

Charles and Nora had also come to California.

However, working at Folsom Prison wasn’t a joke, and the number of personnel had to be strictly limited. To avoid causing trouble for the production team, the Wood couple stayed in Los Angeles for the time being.

Even so, they were deeply concerned.

During this time on set, Anson hadn’t encountered Jack again, but he had completely immersed himself in his role, slowly sinking into a dark state of mind. It was worrisome. They had always feared he might lose himself in the process.

If they found out what had just happened…

Anson's expression stiffened, his previous composure vanishing.

"Lucas, listen."

"For me, acting isn’t just a process of exploration. It’s also a form of healing. I always try to find a connection between myself and my roles, to create a dialogue between drama and reality."

"Work is actually a good thing."

"Really! Lucas? Lucas!"

One sentence after another, Anson eagerly explained himself.

Lucas hadn’t seen Anson like this in a long, long time. It was as if he were looking at his little brother from childhood—the one who used to follow him around like a clingy little shadow.

In the end, Lucas couldn’t hold back. A small smile flickered in his eyes.

Anson noticed. "Wait a minute, Lucas?"

Lucas quickly straightened his face, forcing the smile away.

But Anson didn’t care at all. "So, does this mean you agree? Hey, Lucas, if you agree, you can’t take it back. You won’t go running to Mom and Dad, right?"

Lucas: … "We’ll see how you behave."

Anson, however, ignored him entirely. "Heh, you agreed! That means it’s settled. I need to start preparing for the next scene. My performance layers need some adjustment, and I should start the live performance with a slightly higher key."

Hearing that, Lucas’ eyes showed a hint of curiosity. "Just now…" He hesitated slightly, unsure if he should ask, but eventually, he did. "That song you were playing just now?"

"The one you were humming and playing before we walked in?"

Even after voicing his question, Lucas felt uneasy. If that song was composed by Jack… or by nine-year-old Anson… what would that mean?

Lucas worried he had just opened Pandora’s box.

Anson, however, remained perfectly calm. "Oh, that was just a scattered idea in my head."

"Illusions and reality, dreams and film—it’s all blurred together lately. Some melodies and inspirations keep looping in my mind, so I just played them out."

Lucas let out a long breath.

Anson was right. Maybe confronting fear wasn’t as terrifying as he had imagined.

Anson glanced at Lucas. "Heh, were you just worried I had split personalities? That I’d switch to another persona at any moment, like flipping a switch?"

Lucas: …

One second. Two seconds.

Lucas finally realized—Anson was joking. The breath caught in his throat. "Anson Wood!"

Anson quickly backed off, shifting his gaze as if he hadn’t seen Lucas’ expression. "Work, work! I need to get into character right now. Please don’t interrupt the actor at work, okay?"

Anson waved Lucas off as if swatting away a fly.

Lucas was exasperated, but he said nothing. Instead, he silently looked Anson up and down, contemplating for a moment before speaking seriously.

"Mr. Actor, you just rolled on the ground several times and drenched yourself in sweat. Are you sure you want to go on stage looking like this?"

Anson froze. He glanced down at himself—and only then did he realize how bad the situation was.

His appearance!

Johnny Cash’s performance at Folsom Prison was legendary. His signature all-black look—a black shirt paired with a black suit—symbolized both rebellion and justice, giving voice to the ignored, the unseen, and the forgotten.

Originally, Anson had been perfectly styled. But after rolling on the ground, sitting on the floor, and sweating profusely, his once-neat suit now looked like a wrinkled pile of laundry. He could easily be mistaken for a homeless man.

Crap.

Without another word, Anson bolted out of the room.

Lucas stayed behind, watching Anson’s retreating figure, a soft smile forming on his lips.

Despite his lingering worries and doubts—despite knowing they still needed time to truly understand Anson’s state of mind—at this moment, seeing him so full of life, so genuinely passionate about performing, Lucas felt reassured.

Jack was gone. But what about the nine-year-old Anson Wood?

For now, Lucas could only watch and wait.

But maybe this was a good thing.

Who knew? Maybe acting would really become Anson’s path forward, just like Johnny Cash, finding solace in art and transforming his scars and nightmares into creative fuel.

And as for Lucas, his mission was clear—

To lead Forest Pictures toward growth and transformation, ensuring that it would become the strongest support for Anson’s artistic journey.

With that thought, Lucas’ gaze grew resolute.

*Chapter 1415: Stay Tuned*

“At the time, I was hesitating. I wasn’t sure whether I should enter the meeting room because Anson and Lucas were still deep in conversation. Even though I was incredibly curious about their secret discussions, I knew this was Hollywood—some secrets are best left unknown.”

“However, judging from the director’s expression, things seemed to have settled down. I figured I should go in and get back to work, preparing for the upcoming shoot.”

“After all, thanks to Anson, we had once again fallen behind schedule. Yes, for the one-thousand-and-first time.”

“Just as I was pacing back and forth, I looked up and saw Anson walking straight toward me, locking eyes with me as he approached quickly.”

“‘Ah, Cody!’”

Cody was telling a story, but as soon as he said that, the entire room erupted in jeers. No one believed him. One after another, people gave him thumbs-down gestures.

“Nonsense!”

“No way! How could a Hollywood actor remember our names?”

“I know, I know! Those talk shows always make it seem like actors remember, but that’s just for PR. No one actually buys it.”

“Cody, wake up. Stop dreaming.”

“This story just lost all credibility.”

“Haha! Got caught making things up, didn’t you?”

“Pfft! Cody, please don’t spout nonsense in front of professionals. We all know how things really work.”

The room was buzzing with chatter, laughter, and disbelief.

Among these seasoned Hollywood veterans, Cody’s "lie" seemed to have been exposed.

But Cody looked genuinely frustrated, unable to get a word in edgewise.

“I swear, I’m telling the truth,” he insisted.

“At that moment, Anson came rushing out of the meeting room, saw me, and called out my name—‘Ah, Cody!’”

But no one believed him.

Cody was beyond exasperated. He tilted his head back, let out a deep sigh, and threw his hands up. Even when he told the truth, no one believed him.

“If you guys ever get into Anson’s film crew, you’ll see for yourselves. If I’m lying, I’m a damn puppy. He really did call my name—and not just once.”

Unfortunately, no one was convinced. They all wore skeptical expressions.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say. So, what happened next? Did the shoot go smoothly? Anson put in all this effort to get into character—would’ve been a disaster if the filming turned out to be a mess. That would’ve been embarrassing.”

Cody let out a helpless sigh. What was with this dismissive attitude? "Yeah, yeah, sure"—what kind of patronizing response was that?

Still, he held back. Time would prove everything. All the biases, all the skepticism, all the arrogance—it would all be exposed for what it was.

Cody believed in Anson.

In fact, thinking back to his own first-day blunder on set, Cody couldn’t help but smirk a little. The people in front of him would all trip up sooner or later, making fools of themselves in front of Anson. And when that happened, he’d have the last laugh.

So, Cody stopped arguing.

“Anson called me over because he needed to shower and change into a fresh outfit for the performance.”

“His exact words were that while he was nervous, Johnny had been waiting for this day for a long time. Excitement and anticipation took over. More than that, Johnny had finally forgiven himself and found a new purpose through music. He was stepping onto the Folsom Prison stage with passion.”

“The reason Johnny’s Folsom Prison performance became legendary wasn’t just because of the setting. The key was his conviction and state of mind. He needed to embody that transformation—breaking out of his cocoon and emerging anew.”

“Believe it or not, that day, in that exact moment, Anson truly broke out of his cocoon.”

“That concert…”

As Cody spoke, memories of that day at Folsom Prison flooded his mind—the emotions, the intensity. He couldn’t help but immerse himself in them again.

The onlookers, who had been eagerly listening, nudged him.

“Hey, don’t keep it to yourself! Tell us everything.”

“Yeah, yeah! How did it compare to the Grammy performance?”

“To be honest, the Grammys can’t top this, right?”

“Say what you want about everything else, but Anson’s stage presence is unreal. His Grammy performance blew my mind.”

The room was alive with excitement.

Cody let out a long breath. “How should I describe it?”

“I think… that was the moment when Anson found the perfect balance between Johnny Cash and himself. At certain moments, he was Johnny Cash. But at others, Anson Wood and Johnny Cash’s images blended seamlessly.”

“I… I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“But Folsom Prison completely transformed into a concert venue. The filming felt more like capturing a live performance. It was like we were filming a concert documentary.”

“That feeling… Wow. I can’t describe it. It wasn’t just moving, it wasn’t just shocking—it was like we dissolved into the music itself.”

“In the end, what was supposed to be a two-day shoot? We wrapped it up in just three hours.”

And with that, Cody abruptly ended his story, catching everyone off guard.

The entire room was stunned, looking at him in disbelief before breaking into complaints and protests.

“That’s it?”

“Are you kidding me? And then what? What about the climax? Anson’s performance? The film crew? That’s the actual story!”

People started booing, grumbling, and throwing playful jabs at Cody.

But Cody remained completely unfazed.

With a casual shrug, he said, “Exactly. That is the key part.”

“But since it’s so important, you should wait until the movie is released and see for yourselves. That’s the magic of cinema, don’t you think?”

“Ugh!”

“Boo!”

“Get outta here!”

The room erupted into chaotic banter, laughter, and teasing. The party finally felt like a real party again, buzzing with energy.

Watching the lively scene unfold, Cody’s lips curled into a slight smirk. A hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

As the crowd dispersed, the once stuffy air felt lighter. The curiosity remained, but these people were Hollywood professionals. Making movies, watching movies, producing movies—it was just a job to them. The magic of cinema had lost its luster.

So the moment Cody started teasing them, they lost interest.

In the end, only a couple of close friends lingered nearby.

One of them noticed the expression on Cody’s face and nudged his leg. “Are you serious? Is the movie really worth the hype?”

Cody didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

“Wow.” The friend sounded impressed. “Looks like this project really changed how you see Anson.”

Cody smirked. “Actions always speak louder than words.”

Could it be that Walk the Line was actually something to look forward to?

Given how Hollywood had been buzzing ever since the project was greenlit—whether it was Anson and Reese’s pairing, Mangold and Kitsch’s collaboration, or the fact that the script had been bouncing around Hollywood for over a decade—the film’s prospects had seemed bleak.

But now, from Cody’s perspective, was Walk the Line about to turn things around?