1316-1320

*Chapter 1316: Unveiling the Veil*

Wave after wave, they came, unending and relentless.

Ripley could barely contain her excitement and exhilaration. It took every ounce of her strength to suppress the urge to scream. Instead, she stood quietly, savoring the thrill coursing through her veins.

They had done it.

From The Elephant to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, all because of one person—Anson. Independent films, which had always been outside the awards season spotlight, had suddenly garnered unbelievable attention.

For this, Ripley was eternally grateful to Anson.

Who would have thought that such a thankless endeavor—one so ignored by the Hollywood establishment—would ultimately be completed by an actor labeled as a “pretty face,” scorned and dismissed by the Academy?

So, who was the real "pretty face"? Who was the real joke?

The steps, plaza, and streets outside the Angelica Film Center were packed with people. Beyond the 3,000 seats in the venue, crowds thronged around, standing or sitting wherever they could find space. Even the surrounding high-rise windows were filled with eager onlookers. The atmosphere was so electric that it felt like it might overflow into the city itself.

It was informal, unpolished, slightly cramped, and chaotic—but in this imperfection lay the essence of cinema’s origins: bringing people together to explore the unknown through the magic of film.

It felt just like Cinema Paradiso.

A cacophony filled the air—murmurs, whispers, and the hum of excitement mingled with the rumble of car engines on the avenues nearby. The world outside was alive and roaring.

This was far from an ideal environment for screening a movie, but... it didn’t matter.

Ripley took a deep breath and signaled to the projectionist.

Click, click, click.

The surrounding lights dimmed. Office and apartment buildings nearby followed suit, extinguishing their lights in cooperation. Though Manhattan’s ambient glow still held the night sky aloft, the dimmed surroundings were enough to let the audience know the screening was about to begin.

The crowd didn’t quiet down; if anything, the excitement only grew louder, punctuated by cheers and whistles.

“Shhh!”

Some tried to hush the crowd, but getting everyone to settle was no small feat.

Straight ahead, a massive screen hung from the outer wall of the Angelica Film Center, capturing the crowd’s attention as the projector flickered to life.

And there he was—Anson.

“Ahem. Hey, good evening. I’m Anson Wood.”

A smile curved across his face.

In an instant, the audience, whether chatting, joking, or trying to hush others, fell silent. All eyes turned to the screen as the unexpected sight of Anson caught them off guard. Excitement exploded in the air.

“Ahhh! Oh my God!”

Surprise—pure, unadulterated surprise. None of the promotional material for this event had mentioned this. Anson’s sudden appearance was a complete shock, an unanticipated delight.

There he stood, wearing a green bowtie and white shirt, his brilliant smile directed straight at the camera as he joined the night’s revelry.

Hearts raced. Adrenaline surged. Blair lost all composure, screaming wildly, entirely consumed by the moment.

Karen, startled by Blair’s outburst, glanced at her friend, and then they both burst into laughter, screaming and cheering together, their joy reverberating through the air.

Their ears began to ache from the sheer volume, but they didn’t care.

“Ha, thank you, thank you for letting me feel the vibrant atmosphere of Manhattan tonight. Without a doubt, this is going to be a magical evening.”

“To be honest, I’m a little jealous. After all, not just anyone gets to join in on this kind of celebration.”

“Woohoo!”

Karen raised her hand high, leading another round of cheers. The low roars of the crowd outside the Angelica swelled, echoing between the surrounding skyscrapers, shaking windows with the energy of their enthusiasm.

This was a true carnival.

“At the moment, I’m... Well, where I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m not in Manhattan and can’t join tonight’s screening.”

“Oh, I know you’re all sighing right now, right? Feeling disappointed, right? Apologies—this isn’t a live broadcast. I can’t see the crowd’s reaction, so I’ll just have to imagine it. Looks like I caught you all red-handed.”

Laughter erupted.

Karen, however, didn’t laugh. She turned to Blair, wide-eyed. “This isn’t live?”

Blair shook her head, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe.

“In any case, it’s a shame I can’t be there in person.”

“But I truly hope you all enjoy this wonderful evening. Now, let’s dive into Charlie Kaufman’s world, just as John Malkovich once entered his own mind.”

More laughter burst from the crowd.

Being John Malkovich—Charlie Kaufman’s breakout film and still his most iconic work to date—had been deftly referenced, pulling everyone’s focus seamlessly toward the movie.

The clip ended, and without pause, the movie began.

The transition was flawless.

The crowd at the Angelica Film Center blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the abrupt change. But almost immediately, cheers and whistles filled the air again.

The film began with the Focus Features logo, a brief three-second sequence. Then Anson’s scruffy face appeared on the massive screen.

“Whoo!”

The crowd cheered, though this time it didn’t last long. Silence followed as they observed the stark transformation in Anson’s appearance. The same face, yet entirely different. The contrast between the real and the cinematic was enough to captivate and draw the audience into the film’s world.

It happened so quickly, without giving them time to prepare. But in truth, they had been waiting for this moment all along.

The camera lingered on Anson’s face in an intense close-up, capturing every detail—the rugged contours, the weary eyes, the subtle sweat on his forehead.

Anson’s face held up brilliantly on the big screen, even magnified to such proportions, commanding attention.

Yet, it was far from a flattering image.

His unshaven beard, tired eyes shadowed by faint dark circles, and a slightly sweaty forehead all spoke of exhaustion. He looked disheveled and worn, as if he had just endured a grueling week of overtime, only to be kept awake by a relentless mosquito on his one day off.

Those blue eyes, unfocused and emotionless, gazed at the ceiling in a state of existential despair. It was hard to tell if he was groggy or just deeply troubled. Even breathing seemed like an effort.

Getting out of bed was no better. Like a turtle flipped on its back, he struggled awkwardly, limbs flailing, before finally sitting up, only to clutch his head in pain, lost in a daze.

Just getting up felt like wrestling a whale.

Office workers everywhere could relate: everyone hates Mondays.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 1317: A Beautiful Mind*

Monday. Work. Completely lifeless.

Lack of sleep. Unexplained irritation. I threw on whatever clothes I could find, skipped the tie, mismatched my socks, and even buttoned my shirt wrong before heading out.

As I stepped outside, I noticed my car door had been dramatically damaged—so bad that the door panel was caved in. It wasn't just a dent; it was a full-blown wreck. Furious, I stared at the damage, seething with anger.

The frustration and confusion churned in my chest until I tilted my head back and silently screamed at the sky.

Still fuming, I headed to the train station, intending to catch a train to New York. But as I stood on the platform, an absurd thought struck me:

What if I didn’t go to work today? What if I went to Montauk instead?

"Valentine's Day, 2004.

Today is a holiday invented by greeting card companies designed to make people feel miserable.

I skipped work and took a train to Montauk. I don’t know why. I’m not an impulsive person. Maybe it was just because I woke up in a bad mood, and I need to get my car fixed."

The opening of the film exudes chaos and sadness.

A scruffy, disheveled man sprinted through the train station and barely squeezed onto a train headed in the opposite direction—away from New York and toward the far end of Long Island, escaping the monotony of his work life.

You’d think such a move would bring joy or relief.

But it didn’t.

The endless blue skies and the piercing cold whispered exhaustion and despair, offering none of the carefree joy of skipping work. Instead, it conveyed a deep, poignant sense of helplessness.

As the lanky figure strolled along the windswept beach, braving the swirling snow and gusting wind, the audience watching the movie outdoors in Manhattan’s March weather couldn’t help but shiver and pull their coats tighter.

The screen transmitted the biting cold directly into the viewers' bones.

"This beach could freeze you to death.

February in Montauk—brilliant idea, Joel."

That self-deprecating line elicited laughter and murmurs from the Angelika Film Center’s audience:

"Absolutely right, Joel."

The crowd chuckled, now familiar with the protagonist’s name: Joel.

Indeed, independent films are different from commercial ones. The atmosphere and tone were unmistakably unique, opening with whispered monologues and a ghostlike wandering presence—

Just like Elephant.

But the audience was prepared for such a start, neither surprised nor put off. Instead, they were curious: What comes next?

In romantic films, when the male lead veers from his daily routine, the next logical step is for him to meet the female lead.

But would Charlie Kaufman, with his wild imagination, follow the formula?

Joel sat in front of a small beachside shack, flipping open his journal to jot down his thoughts, only to discover pages torn out. "I don’t remember doing this."

"This is my first journal entry in two years."

A man skips work, escapes to the beach, and starts journaling?

It’s neither romantic nor cool. No wonder Focus Features avoided marketing this as a romantic movie. Joel doesn’t seem charming at all. In fact—

He’s downright pitiful.

Karen leaned closer to Blair, whispering, "But if it were Anson acting like this, I’d still fall for him."

Joel tried playing in the sand but disliked getting his hands dirty. Using a twig, he poked at the sand instead, snapping the brittle stick into pieces.

Then, a woman appeared on the beach—

Dressed in an orange coat and jeans, bundled up like a dumpling. To be fair, February in Montauk isn’t exactly fashion-friendly.

Her hood was pulled tight, transforming her into a panda, with wisps of grass-green hair blowing wildly in the sea breeze. Her neck sank into her shoulders.

Just as the man was pitiful, the woman wasn’t much better off.

But Blair and Karen exchanged knowing glances—they understood what was happening. The male and female leads were about to meet, and that panda was Kate Winslet.

Obviously, the two protagonists were destined to cross paths.

However, to some slight disappointment, Charlie Kaufman’s boundless creativity didn’t emerge here. For now, the story followed the standard Hollywood romantic trope. Was that really it?

Joel longed for a new relationship, but he was too timid and introverted to speak to strangers, let alone flirt. Instead, he avoided her altogether.

Avoiding eye contact, Joel toured the empty beach houses before deciding to leave. But as he turned around, he bumped into her again—this time at a diner near the train station. Her seaweed-green hair was impossible to miss.

Joel stole a glance and noticed her sneaking liquor into her coffee, taking a satisfied sip.

She caught him looking. Instead of shying away, she raised her mug in a playful toast and took a bold sip.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat. His gaze darted away in a panic.

"Why do I fall for every woman I meet?"

Joel didn’t understand himself.

He tried to flee, avoid, even dodge her gaze entirely—but his obvious behavior only caught her attention.

Her eyes followed his retreating figure as if in pursuit, while he practically dug a hole to hide himself.

Rushing onto the train, Joel peeked at the green-haired woman from across the car, then pulled out his journal and began sketching—

It was her.

The orange coat, the green hair—it was unmistakably her.

Joel hid in his own world, but she broke in.

Their eyes met for a brief moment. She initiated the conversation. "Hi."

Joel froze. "Sorry?"

She grinned broadly. "I said hello."

Joel: “…Hi. Hello.” His exaggerated, flustered response, like a shy Donald Duck, drew soft chuckles from the audience.

To his surprise, she stood up and moved to the seat in front of him, striking up a casual conversation. "Where are you headed?"

"Rockville Center."

"No way! Me too!"

"Really?"

"What are the odds?" The green-haired woman exuded cheerful energy, her voice bright and animated, leaving Joel struggling to keep up. "Have we met before?"

So direct?

And wasn’t this kind of cheesy pickup line usually reserved for sleazy middle-aged men? Why was the role reversal so jarring?

Joel blinked, overwhelmed, as if he were the one being accosted by a sleazy man with no idea how to make him leave.

The woman pondered aloud, "Have you ever bought books at Barnes & Noble?"

Joel nodded timidly. "Of course."

Her face lit up, and she laughed. "There you go! I must’ve seen you there. I worked there for five years."

Joel wasn’t so sure. "If you worked there, I think I’d remember you."

She smiled. "It’s probably my hair. I keep changing the color, so you didn’t recognize me. This shade is called 'Heartbreaking Green.'"

Joel responded with an awkward but polite smile. Help.

(To be continued)

*Chapter 1318: Role Reversal*

In the age of social media, memes have taken the world by storm. There's a young boy whose every expression radiates awkwardness, perfectly embodying the modern-day attitude of being “awkward yet polite,” earning him the title of Meme Master.

Right now, Joel was showcasing such an expression. Though his lips were curved upward in a smile, his shoulders were hunched, and his body leaned back tightly against the chair and window, like a cornered mouse. The result was an unintentionally hilarious look.

This scene was inherently comedic.

In Hollywood, romantic comedies have been an endless staple, continually reinvented over nearly a century to keep captivating audiences. With each new generation of viewers becoming harder to impress, filmmakers must up their game to craft something fresh and engaging.

And yet, here we were—

Wait, they forgot. This isn’t a romantic comedy!

The two began discussing hair color naming conventions back and forth. Before long, the girl with the seaweed-colored hair was completely drained, curling up in her train seat to recharge. Just when people thought she had run out of energy, she suddenly leaped up without warning.

“Oh, by the way, my name’s Clementine.”

“I’m Joel.”

Seaweed Hair grasped Joel’s right hand. “Hey, Joel.” She held his hand tightly, her voice dripping with insinuation. Joel tried to pull away but failed. “Don’t make fun of my name, okay? Oh, wait—you wouldn’t do that. You’re polite.”

Joel’s face was full of confusion. “I don’t think your name is funny.”

“Huckleberry Hound.”

Joel: … “I don’t know what that means.”

Seaweed Hair—no, Clementine—was visibly shocked. “Huckleberry Hound? Are you kidding me? Are you an idiot?”

Joel shrugged lightly. “Some people have said that.”

Clementine ignored his self-deprecation and began singing the theme song from the Huckleberry Hound cartoon.

“Oh, my darling, oh, my darling, Clementine, you are lost and gone forever. Dreadful sorry, Clementine.”

“You’ve never heard this?”

Joel watched the girl singing a children’s song with such enthusiasm, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily twitched into a smile. But then, realizing it might be rude, he quickly reined it in.

“Sorry,” he said. “But it’s a beautiful name. Doesn’t it mean kind? Generous?”

Clementine rested her chin on the back of the seat, meeting Joel’s gaze at eye level. Using a deep, dramatic tone, she said, “Sadly, it’s false advertising. I’m the kind of girl who holds grudges.”

Joel was taken aback. “God, I wouldn’t think that.”

Clementine frowned. “How could you possibly know?”

Joel: … “I don’t know, just…” Under Clementine’s frank, unrelenting gaze, Joel flusteredly looked away, lowering his head. “I don’t know, you just… seem nice.”

Clementine, incredulous, exploded without warning. “Oh, now I’m ‘nice’? God, don’t you know any other adjectives?”

Earlier, when they were discussing hair colors, Joel had dismissed Clementine’s imaginative suggestions, causing a brief moment of awkwardness. To make amends, Joel had cautiously remarked, “I’m just trying to be nice.” Now, in a twist of fate, the conversation hit another awkward snag, and Joel had once again defaulted to the same adjective.

Clementine didn’t hold back. She left her seat and sat down next to Joel.

“I don’t want to be nice. I don’t want to be a good person, and I don’t need people being nice to me.”

Her raised voice left Joel flustered, looking around nervously as though worried they might disturb the other passengers. Finally, he gave a small nod and mumbled, “Got it.” His voice was barely audible.

The sound of the train wheels clattering against the tracks filled the silence.

“Joel?” Eventually, it was Clementine who broke the stillness. “Joel, right?”

Joel: … “Yeah.”

Clementine sighed. “Sorry for yelling at you earlier. I’m just in a bad mood today.”

Another pause. Clementine let out a heavy breath.

Joel, still pressed into the corner, glanced at her shoulder as though trying to offer comfort. He wanted to say that he wasn’t in a good mood today either.

But in the end, he just looked away, pretending to gaze out the window at the morning sunlight spilling across his face.

He didn’t expect Clementine to… make her move.

She leaned in closer, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Joel, and casually draped her left arm over the back of the seat, her hand nearly brushing against his back.

Joel stiffened, his entire back now glued to the window and seat as though retreating into the train wall. But there was nowhere left to go.

The situation was beyond funny.

Clementine, however, seemed completely oblivious to Joel’s discomfort and carried on. “I have to admit something embarrassing. I really like how nice you are. Right now…” She paid no mind to Joel’s awkward fumbling—his eyes darting, hands twitching, legs frozen—as she continued. “I don’t know what I’ll think in the next moment, but right now, I’m grateful you’re nice.”

Joel responded with: an awkward yet polite smile.

Clementine received no reply, just that strained smile, and ended up laughing herself.

Joel took a deep breath. “I, uh, I have some things, uh, some stuff I need to… take care of.”

His words were disjointed and scattered.

---

The camera zoomed in on Joel’s face in close-up. On the left side of the frame, a wisp of green hair crept into focus. Clementine leaned closer and closer, her face mere inches from Joel’s, almost close enough to feel her breath.

The result? Hysterical laughter!

At the Angelika Film Center, the audience erupted into laughter. Blair and Karen were practically falling out of their seats.

The movie had started off with a somber, slow pace, but no one had expected it to take this turn. By flipping the typical romantic comedy roles, it achieved a perfect comedic effect.

Watching Kate Winslet aggressively flirt with Anson Wood was a sight to behold—something so unique, you’d wonder if it could ever happen again.

The humor didn’t come from the script so much as the actors’ body language and exchanges of expression. The audience’s laughter was unstoppable.

The way Clementine leaned in toward Joel resembled a predator closing in on its prey.

Finally, Clementine seemed to understand Joel’s discomfort. “Oh! Oh! Sorry.”

Embarrassed, she retreated to her seat, sliding to the far end. Her exaggerated movement left Joel feeling guilty.

As Joel began to apologize, Clementine waved it off with a smile—only to spin around and land a playful but firm punch on his shoulder, hitting him like a heavyweight boxer.

Joel: wide-eyed, mouth agape, silently wincing in pain.

The single expression drove the Angelika Film Center into a frenzy, with the audience howling with laughter.

In 2001, the South Korean film My Sassy Girl became a phenomenon, despite not having a wide international release. It spread across countries through DVD sales and captured hearts everywhere.

So, was Clementine reenacting My Sassy Girl with Joel?

Watching Joel’s pitiful, bewildered expression, the audience laughed uncontrollably. Wait—was this really Charlie Kaufman’s intention?

But then again, Kaufman had always described his works with one key label: comedy.

In that sense, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.

Clementine wisely didn’t push Joel further. When the train reached its destination, Joel left alone, and it seemed the two would part ways for good. Based on typical romantic comedy tropes, the next step would involve a coincidental reunion.

But Charlie Kaufman doesn’t follow convention.

As Joel exited the train station and walked to the parking lot, he spotted the girl with the orange sweater and green hair by the roadside.

He pulled over.

“Hi!”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1319: Love at First Sight

Charlie Kaufman, as always.

In what seems to be a straightforward, simple, realistic, and serious storyline, unexpected twists and quirky developments emerge, creating a dark sense of humor.

This isn’t about wild flights of fancy or unbridled imagination—it’s certainly nothing like Harry Potter or Star Wars. Instead, it’s the kind of storytelling where unexpected turns break the audience’s expectations at the most unanticipated moments.

People think Joel will make the first move to approach Clementine, but the roles are reversed.

People think Joel’s initial rejection of Clementine will create tension, leaving them to part ways for now. Instead, Joel takes the initiative, offering to drive Clementine home. Before the story reaches its next expected beat, it takes a surprising turn.

Despite Clementine’s slight hesitation and the fact that their conversation on the train didn’t end well, she still gets into Joel’s car.

“You’re not a stalker, are you?”

Clementine’s first words after getting in the car made the entire audience at the Angelika Film Center burst into laughter.

But Joel wasn’t laughing. Looking flustered, he stammered, “I… I’m not a stalker. You were the one who came to me first, remember?”

Clementine shook her head. “That’s the oldest trick in the stalker handbook.”

Joel blinked. “Really? There’s an actual stalker handbook? Maybe I should study it.”

Joel drove Clementine home. Just as she was about to get out of the car, she couldn’t suppress an impulse and invited Joel upstairs for a drink.

Joel’s startled, deer-in-the-headlights expression made Clementine reconsider her invitation, but Joel quickly agreed and followed her to her apartment.

An awkward yet electrifying tension filled the air.

Clementine was bold and passionate, while Joel was stiff as a board.

And yet, Joel didn’t seem entirely uncomfortable with the situation. Despite sitting rigidly, every muscle tense, he didn’t run away. His eyes constantly followed Clementine, as if caught in some inexplicable, conflicting feelings pulling him in opposite directions.

The scene, which should have been charged with romantic tension, ended up being hilariously endearing.

“I’m going to marry you,” Clementine declared, fiery and intense, burning brightly.

Joel looked flustered and confused, but the corners of his mouth slowly turned upward.

“Okay?”

As soon as he said it, Joel couldn’t help but chuckle, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

Clementine nestled into Joel’s arms, their fingers intertwined.

She suggested they go on a nighttime picnic by the Charles River.

The two grew closer, their intimacy increasing with each passing moment. Joel could feel the heat in his palm and the stirring desires within him. In a rush, he blurted that he should leave. Clementine, however, thought he should stay the night.

Joel hesitated briefly, but his cautious nature won out in the end, and he stopped himself just in time.

Before Joel left, Clementine took the initiative to give him her phone number. As Joel made his way downstairs, she leaned out of her apartment window and shouted:

“Call me to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day! That would be the best thing ever.”

Her smile bloomed in the night like a flower.

Joel didn’t drive—he’d had a drink. Instead, he tightened his coat around himself and began walking through the falling snow. His steps were clumsy at first, but they grew faster and faster until he was sprinting under the streetlights.

It was joy—pure, simple joy. The joy of falling in love.

When Joel got home, he didn’t go to bed. Instead, he sat on the red sofa in the corner of his living room. Turning on the light, he sat upright, hands neatly placed on his knees like a well-behaved schoolboy.

What was he doing?

Karen didn’t understand.

She turned to Blair for answers, but this time, Blair didn’t understand either.

Joel was waiting—waiting for his racing heart to calm, for his rapid breathing to steady. The heat burning in his chest hadn’t subsided yet.

Then, he picked up the phone and glanced at the number written on the back of his hand.

The call connected quickly, and Clementine’s cheerful voice came through: “What took you so long to call?”

A smile naturally spread across Joel’s face. “I just got home.”

“Do you miss me?” Clementine asked.

Joel paused for a moment. Beneath his long lashes, a hint of joy flickered in his eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah! Ha-ha!” Clementine cheered. Joel could even hear the sound of her spinning and dancing. “That means we’re officially married now.”

Joel tilted his head slightly. “I guess so.”

Clementine added, “So… tomorrow night? Honeymoon on the ice?”

If it’s tomorrow night, then so be it. If it’s a honeymoon, then a honeymoon it is—

Joel and Clementine went to the Charles River. The thickly frozen surface of the river was deserted, but across the way, the car headlights on the other side twinkled like fireflies, forming a stream of flowing light. Under the hazy moonlight, the entire scene looked vast, tranquil, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Clementine, wild and reckless, and Joel, cautious and careful, began “ice skating” on the frozen river. Inevitably, they both fell. Instead of getting up, they decided to lie flat on the ice, staring at the stars.

From a bird’s-eye view, the icy surface glowed faintly blue against its snowy backdrop. Joel and Clementine lay side by side, gazing at the starry night above.

Clementine asked Joel to introduce her to the zodiac signs. However, Joel knew nothing about astrology, so he simply started making things up, speaking with such confidence that it sounded convincing. Clementine quickly caught on and exposed Joel’s bluff. Yet, Joel maintained a serious demeanor, insisting that everything he said was true.

A smile crept up the corners of his mouth.

There was no romance, no flirtation, no sentimentality. What should have been a heart-fluttering romantic encounter instead revealed a peculiar sense of humor through the film’s lens, bearing no resemblance to the typical romantic movies one might imagine.

And yet, at this moment, it completely threw the rhythm of the heart out of sync.

It wasn’t romantic, yet it was intoxicating. There was no ambiguity, yet it was deeply absorbing. Before anyone could even realize it, the entire Angelika Film Center was silently captivated, utterly immersed, unable to pull away.

All the way until dawn.

Joel drove Clementine home and stopped at her front door.

Joel gently woke Clementine, who had dozed off in the passenger seat. To his surprise, she directly asked if she could go to his place to sleep. Joel was slightly taken aback, but this time, he didn’t say no.

Clementine went upstairs to grab her toothbrush.

Joel stayed in the driver’s seat, leaning his head against the backrest, eyes closed, quietly resting. In the stillness, the corners of his mouth curved upward ever so slightly. A quiet joy and happiness began to bloom within him.

Knock, knock!

Someone tapped on the car window, breaking the silence. Joel jolted awake, only to see a baby-faced man standing outside with furrowed brows.

“What’s the matter?” Joel asked, confused.

The baby-faced man looked serious. “Do you need help with anything?”

Joel was baffled. “What do you mean?”

Babyface replied, “Is there something you need me to help you with?”

Joel: …

Everything about this was so inexplicably strange. Joel couldn’t keep up with the situation. Exhausted from a night of celebration, he couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

“…No,” Joel replied politely, declining the offer.

Babyface wouldn’t let it go. “Why are you here?”

Joel responded, “I’m not sure why you’re asking me that.”

Babyface froze, his expression turning flustered. “Oh. Thank you.”

Then, just like that, Babyface walked away.

He actually… just walked away.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 1320: Challenging Imagination*

Wait, what just happened?

On-screen, Joel looked completely bewildered. Off-screen, the entire audience at Angelica Movie Center was equally puzzled. No one could make sense of the sudden interruption involving that baby-faced stranger. The whole scene felt utterly bizarre and inexplicable.

Karen was stunned. "Did I just miss something important?"

Instinctively, Karen turned toward Blair and whispered, “What’s going on?”

Blair shrugged. Clearly, she was just as lost. But there seemed to be only one explanation: Charlie Kaufman.

Just when everyone thought this was going to be a straightforward romance movie—just a quirky love story between two oddball characters—they forgot one crucial detail: Charlie Kaufman never takes the ordinary route. The genius screenwriter’s imagination is often unpredictable and mind-bending.

And this was no exception.

The screen abruptly cut to a jarring transition: day turned to night. The setting remained the same—it was still the car, still parked outside Clementine’s house, and still Joel.

But this time, Joel was gripping the steering wheel, sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face.

Karen: “???”

Blair: “???”

This time, Karen didn’t need to ask. From the shock and confusion in Blair’s eyes, it was clear she didn’t have any answers either. Both women stared intently at the screen, afraid to miss a single detail that might explain what was happening.

So, was this actually a psychological thriller?

Blair quickly noticed something different:

Joel’s appearance had changed.

Now, he was wearing a knitted hat. His jacket and shirt were slightly different too. Though his tie hung loosely and undone, he was still wearing one.

The details suggested this was taking place on a different day.

Joel, overcome with despair, couldn’t contain his emotions no matter how hard he tried. It was as if his very soul was on fire as he sped down an empty street in a desperate frenzy.

Blair’s sharp eyes caught another detail:

There was a large black mark on Joel’s temple, clearly drawn with a marker.

Blair was certain this mark hadn’t been there before. Something so obvious couldn’t have been a makeup mistake by the production team. So—what was going on?

Joel parked his car near his apartment building and walked toward his home. He noticed two people in a small van suspiciously following him.

Hurrying into his apartment, Joel stopped by the mailbox to grab his mail, glancing nervously over his shoulder to search for anyone suspicious.

Frank, his neighbor, appeared at the mailboxes and struck up a casual conversation. He joked about how the only Valentine’s card he got was from his mom and expressed envy that Joel had Clementine. Frank even asked about Joel’s plans for Valentine’s Day.

With Valentine’s Day just one day away, Frank hoped Joel wouldn’t end up at McDonald’s for dinner.

However, Joel didn’t say much. He found an envelope from something called the “Forgetfulness Clinic” and quickly made an excuse to leave, saying he needed to get some rest.

Frank, surprised, asked, “It’s only 8:30?”

But Joel hurried off, went into his apartment, and shut the door.

Inside, he opened a package containing a set of pajamas and immediately put them on. Then he opened a plastic bag that held a packet of pills and took one without hesitation.

Blair instinctively leaned forward. Things were getting a bit chaotic.

Based on Joel and Frank’s conversation, Blair thought this might take place a year—or maybe two or three—after Joel and Clementine first started dating. They had met on Valentine’s Day, so if it was Valentine’s Day again, perhaps their relationship had hit a rough patch?

But now, seeing Joel in the same pajamas he wore at the start of the movie—pajamas that had been given a close-up earlier—Blair knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. So where exactly was this scene on the timeline?

Was this before Joel met Clementine?

No, that didn’t make sense. Frank clearly knew about Clementine, so it had to be after they met. But then, what was with the pajamas?

In a split second, Blair’s mind raced with a flurry of thoughts.

Things were starting to get interesting. This was exactly the kind of intricacy she expected from Charlie Kaufman.

Blair immediately realized how crucial the details were. She needed to pay even closer attention.

Ever since the abrupt black-screen transition, the movie had felt... strange. It was as if it had suddenly shifted from a romantic love story to a suspenseful thriller.

And what was the deal with those two people following Joel?

After taking the pill, Joel stared blankly at the camera. In an extreme close-up, his deep, clear eyes, tinged with a haunting blue, filled the screen. A faint trace of tears was still visible.

But there was no time for sadness. His pupils froze, the ripples in his gaze fading into suspicion and fear. His ears seemed to pick up a faint sound in the air.

Suddenly, Joel stood and looked out the window.

The small van was parked right outside.

Panicking, Joel yanked the blinds shut and turned off every light in the apartment, trying to stay hidden. He finally reached the kitchen, ready to turn off the last light—only to feel his knees buckle. He grabbed onto the nearest furniture to steady himself, but—

It didn’t work.

Thud.

He collapsed to the floor.

Outside, the two people in the van, who had been waiting anxiously, saw the lights go out. They sprang into action, pulling a chaotic mess of strange equipment from the back of the van.

Among the items was a metallic silver helmet that looked like something an astronaut would wear.

The two seemed clumsy and disorganized—nothing like skilled thieves or criminals. They bumbled noisily, making a racket as if trying to wake the entire apartment complex.

Then, to everyone’s shock, they easily entered Joel’s apartment without needing to break in!

The story suddenly took a creepy turn.

Blair was filled with questions. Was this—

A bad movie?

Blending and colliding different genres often ends in disaster. Combined with the current confusing editing and storytelling, a sense of dread gripped her chest.

But wait—that buzz cut!

In the dim lighting, the side profile of one of the intruders seemed faintly familiar. Blair couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the baby-faced stranger from earlier.

The same baby-faced stranger who had randomly appeared by Joel’s car window, asking if he needed help!

So when did this stranger start following Joel? Or—was he targeting Clementine first, since he’d been at her apartment? Was this revenge against Joel?

A flood of questions surged through Blair’s mind, but none of them had answers.

The two intruders carried Joel to his bed and placed the metallic helmet on his head.

Half-conscious, Joel opened his eyes and seemed to see the two strangers in his apartment. But before he could say anything, a voice echoed in his mind, and flashes of images appeared.

It was like a memory rewind, taking him back three minutes to the scene where he’d met Frank by the mailbox. Everything played vividly in his head, as though it were happening again.

Wait, what was going on now?

(To Be Continued)