26-30

Chapter 26: When Monica Knocks

"Link! Link!"

"Link, over here! Look this way!"

That afternoon, as Link drove back to his apartment in West Hollywood, he had barely parked when shouts rang out from the surrounding apartment buildings—both men’s and women’s voices calling his name.

A few days ago, he would have stopped to wave politely, but after being swarmed so many times, he no longer bothered.

"Hey, Link, when’s your next movie? Can you get us some small roles?"

As he entered Apartment 13, he ran into Eric, the tattooed guy, along with a group of seven or eight people—both men and women.

"The next film isn’t confirmed yet, but if I need actors, I’ll consider you guys first."

"Thanks! Thanks! Hey, Link, how about coming to the bar? A lot of people want to meet you."

"I just got back from a bar. Maybe another time."

Link waved them off and headed upstairs.

"Tsk, tsk. Did you see that? That’s Director Link. He made a movie for $20,000 and earned millions."

Eric, the tattooed guy, smacked his lips as he watched Link walk away, full of envy.

"So handsome... I wonder if he has a girlfriend?"

Some of the women stared longingly in the direction Link had left.

"Forget it. A few days ago, a bunch of women came here waiting for him, hoping to sleep with him. He called the cops on them."

"What a waste."

"It’s fine! We’ve already had two big directors come out of this apartment complex this year—who’s to say we won’t get a third or fourth? I’ve decided—I’m enrolling in film school tomorrow! One day, I’ll be a director too!"

Eric waved his arms dramatically and led the restless group away.

Back in his apartment, Link was packing when Chris Bauer dropped by. As usual, he was in a tank top and shorts, showing off his muscles.

"Link, are you moving out?"

"Yeah, it’s getting inconvenient living here. I’ll be gone in a couple of days."

"Makes sense. You’re a millionaire now—you can afford a mansion."

"I didn’t buy a mansion. Just a small apartment, not much bigger than this place. You can visit anytime."

"Alright!"

Chris crossed his arms and paced around the living room.

Link continued packing. He hadn’t accumulated much furniture over the past six months—he had been too busy making money and filming.

The most valuable things in his apartment were books—directing guides, bestsellers, film magazines, and script copies. Other than that, there wasn’t much.

"Link, are you going to keep directing?"

Chris finally stopped pacing and asked.

"Of course. That’s my profession."

"Can I work with you?"

"I don’t make action movies."

"That’s fine! I don’t have to be an actor—I can do other jobs. Back when we shot Buried Alive, I handled props, sound equipment, and lighting. I did pretty well, didn’t I?"

"Yeah, you did a good job. I’ve registered a film studio and I’m hiring now, mainly technical staff. You can train there for a while, and when my next film starts shooting, you can join the crew."

"Deal! Thanks, Link!"

Chris was so excited he gave Link a quick hug.

Link waved him off and saw him out.

Chris had indeed been a big help during Buried Alive. Otherwise, Link wouldn’t have been able to handle everything alone.

After the movie’s success, Link had given Chris $20,000 as back pay.

Now, he wanted Chris to start working at the studio first—to see if he could adapt to the environment. If he couldn’t, then there was no point in keeping him around.

After packing up two suitcases, Link stretched his back and took a sip of warm water from his glass.

Outside, the sun was setting, painting the apartment building across the street in shades of orange. It was a beautiful sight, but it couldn’t hide the peeling paint on the walls or the trash being blown around by the wind.

Compared to the luxury of Beverly Hills, there was nothing worth holding onto here.

*Knock, knock, knock!*

A knock sounded at the door.

Chris had just left, so whoever it was had to be an uninvited guest.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened in the past few days.

Link didn’t feel like answering.

"Director Link? It’s Monica."

A soft voice came from outside.

It was Monica Bellucci.

Link walked over and opened the door.

Monica stood in the doorway, her body carrying the scent of body wash and perfume—she had probably just showered.

She wore a light red deep-V dress with a thin belt cinched at her waist. Her full curves were on display, her hips forming a perfect peach shape, and her long, smooth legs peeked out from beneath the hem of her dress.

She had clearly taken the time to do her makeup—her black eyeliner made her eyes look even more striking, and her red lips were full and inviting. She looked even more stunning than the last two times they had met.

At twenty-eight, Monica Bellucci was at the peak of her beauty and figure.

Her expression had also changed—gone was the cold, distant demeanor from their previous encounters. Now, she was lively and expressive, as dazzling as a blooming red rose.

"Good afternoon, Monica."

"Good afternoon, Director Link. Are you busy? I brought a bottle of Italian red wine—care to share a drink?"

She raised the bottle slightly, tilting it to show the Italian label.

"Great idea. Come in."

Link stepped aside, letting Monica in before closing the door.

"Director Link, are you moving out?"

Monica glanced at the packed boxes in the living room.

"Yeah, I bought a small apartment in Beverly Hills—108 Wilshire Boulevard."

"Congratulations! You’re amazing—Buried Alive was incredible."

"Just lucky."

Link didn’t have wine glasses, so he grabbed two regular glasses and poured them each a drink.

As they sat across from each other at the coffee table, the air filled with the rich aroma of red wine, mingling with Monica’s perfume.

"This is from the Mazzei Winery in Tuscany. What do you think?"

Monica took a sip, her full lips glistening with the wine.

"It’s good—fragrant and smooth. But I don’t drink wine often, so I’m no expert."

"Chinese people prefer baijiu, right? I’ve tried it before—it came in a small ceramic bottle. Strong and spicy, but not bad."

"That was probably Japanese sake. It’s similar to baijiu, but not quite the same."

Leaning back against the couch, Link crossed his legs, casually chatting with Monica.

After half a glass of wine, a rosy flush spread across her cheeks, and her brown eyes glowed slightly.

"Link, now that Buried Alive’s promotions are over, when are you shooting your next film?"

"Next month."

"Next month? Last time, you mentioned a role that might suit me. Were you serious?"

"Yeah, the next film needs a lead actress. But I’m not sure if you’re the right fit."

Link let his gaze roam over her face, down to her elegant neck, the soft curve of her chest, and the smooth skin of her exposed leg.

"Director Link, I’ve acted in over ten films in Italy, and I gained experience on the set of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. You should give me a chance."

Monica’s voice was slightly breathless. Her chest rose and fell with excitement—she was clearly nervous, proving just how much this opportunity meant to her.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 27: Monica’s Effort

Link leaned back on the sofa, tapping his fingers against his knee as he carefully studied the woman before him. He was contemplating whether to let her audition for the wife’s role in Paranormal: Ghostly Encounters.  

Originally, this role was meant for a non-professional actress. The acting requirements weren’t too demanding, and any woman with a basic foundation in acting could manage it.

However, Monica Bellucci was simply too stunning. Her striking beauty and alluring figure could be distracting in a found-footage horror film, drawing the audience’s attention away from the fear factor and instead onto her appearance.

That said, the film was a live-documentary-style horror movie. It would capture the daily lives of the main characters—conversations, rituals, meals, brushing their teeth, playful moments, and intimate scenes. Casting an actress with both exceptional looks and a captivating figure could also serve as a selling point.

She could work as the female lead.

"Monica, this new film is a horror movie. The main character is an ordinary woman, someone with an average appearance and physique. I need to see what you look like without makeup. Would you be comfortable with that?"

"Of course! Director Link, may I use your restroom?"

"Over there."

Link pointed toward the restroom.

Monica got up and walked barefoot across the floor, disappearing inside. Moments later, she reemerged with her makeup significantly toned down. Her once strikingly beautiful face, a solid nine out of ten, had dropped to around an eight—but she was still stunning.

Her tall, voluptuous figure remained alluring even in simple attire, making it hard to conceal her natural charm.

If she were to take on this role, the production might need an additional professional makeup artist to help tone down her presence.

Still, it was worth a try.

Ultimately, whether she would play the female lead depended on both Monica’s willingness and her performance.

"Director Link, if there’s anything else I need to adjust, please let me know. I’ll do my best."

Monica Bellucci stood with her legs pressed together, hands resting gently in front of her.

"Hold on. Here’s the script. Read through it first, then decide whether you want to take part in this film."

Link got up, opened a drawer, and handed her the script for Paranormal Activity.  

This was an experimental film. All the scenes took place indoors, with only four actors and about a thousand lines of dialogue. The script itself wasn’t lengthy.

Monica flipped through it, taking about twenty minutes to finish reading.

She hesitated.

Though the female lead had significant screen time—more than the male lead—the film’s production budget was low, and its artistic value wasn’t particularly high. Starring in it wouldn’t do much to elevate her career.

However, that hesitation lasted only three seconds before she dismissed the thought.

She had originally been building her career in Italy. After her divorce, she moved to Paris and became a fashion model, though her success was mediocre.

Last year, she came to Hollywood to seek opportunities. Despite auditioning multiple times, the only role she managed to land was a minor part in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, directed by fellow Italian Francis Ford Coppola.

She had failed to secure other roles. Her striking beauty was both a blessing and a curse—she wasn’t famous enough to play a leading role, yet too eye-catching for minor roles, and she refused to be an extra.

With work opportunities dwindling, her finances took a hit, forcing her to move from a luxurious hotel to a modest, low-rent apartment.

She needed a job to get by. More than that, she needed a film with enough buzz to help her establish herself in Hollywood.

And among her limited industry contacts, Link was her best bet.

The first time she met him, he was just an impulsive, ordinary young man.

The second time, he was struggling to pay rent and nearly homeless.

She had seen Link at his lowest and believed he was just another dreamer in this youth hostel—one of many in Hollywood.

But after that day, everything started to change.

His name appeared in the media more and more. Posters for Buried Alive started popping up on billboards across Los Angeles.

By the next time they met, Link had become a well-known Hollywood director and film star, worth millions, and sought after by many.

Landing the lead role in his new film was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to miss.

"Director Link, I’d love to try for this role. I hope you’ll give me a chance."

Monica looked at Link, her expression showing just the right amount of vulnerability.

"Alright, you can give it a shot. But before we start filming, you’ll need to prepare—tone down your appearance, study how to act in horror films. If your audition doesn’t meet expectations, I’ll have to say no."

"I understand. I’ll do my best."

Monica nodded, a radiant smile gracing her lips, making her beauty even more breathtaking.

—

After discussing the script, Monica got up to leave.

Link didn’t ask her to stay.

He could tell Monica was willing to trade favors for the role, and he had considered taking advantage of the situation. But accepting such an offer would mean taking responsibility, and he didn’t want unnecessary trouble.

Until a woman willingly lay in his bed, he wouldn’t casually put his hands on her legs, waist, or anywhere else. Acting that way would make him look sleazy.

Even if a woman didn’t resist and played along with smiles, she could still view him as a creep behind his back. He had seen this happen too many times in the film industry.

Now that he was in Hollywood, surrounded by an endless stream of beautiful women, he neither needed nor cared to resort to such tactics.

That morning, as he was moving apartments, his agent, Sam Haskell, showed up.

Sam Haskell was an agent at William Morris Agency (WMA), one of Hollywood’s top talent agencies. He was 38 years old, of German-American descent.

His appearance was average—neither tall nor short, nothing particularly remarkable except for his deep brown eyes and well-groomed eyebrows.

This was Link’s second time meeting Sam.

The first time was in New York during the promotion of Buried Alive.  

After the film’s massive success, Hollywood’s three major agencies—CAA (Creative Artists Agency), WMA (William Morris Agency), and ICM (International Creative Management)—along with the newly formed UTA (United Talent Agency), all reached out, hoping to sign him.

But Link didn’t see much need for an agency at the time.

He didn’t want them meddling in his projects, pushing their own actors into his films and potentially lowering the quality of his work.

So, he had turned them all down.

However, after talking with Quentin Tarantino and others yesterday, his perspective shifted.

Hollywood was a network—a battlefield.

The industry revolved around these major agencies, forming various factions that constantly competed for fame and fortune.

It was messy, but that was the reality of the entertainment business. Those who weren’t part of a faction weren’t truly established in Hollywood—they were outsiders, lone wolves.

Trying to make it alone while keeping all the profits and benefits to oneself was nearly impossible—especially for someone like Link, an filmmaker.

Having an agency handle public relations, negotiate roles, and push for award recognition had its advantages.

Of course, signing with an agency had its pros and cons. Whether he should do it—and if so, which agency he should choose—depended on their offers.

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 28: The Industry

“Haha, Link, are you moving? Why didn’t you hire a moving company?”

Sam Haskell walked into the living room, casually striking up a conversation.

“It’s just a few boxes—I can take them in my car.”

Link poured two cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table, offering one to Sam Haskell.

“The news reports say you went through a lot to make your movie. Looking at your place, it seems like they weren’t exaggerating. But in the end, it all paid off—you became a box office phenomenon, a dazzling genius director. You deserve it.”

“Thank you! I just made one successful movie. I wouldn’t call myself a genius director.”

Link replied humbly.

“You certainly qualify. Over the past few decades, directors who created low-budget box office hits when they were young have all gone on to great careers—Spielberg, David Lynch, James Cameron.

The difference is, you became famous even younger than they did. I truly believe your future in the industry will be just as bright—if not brighter.”

Sam Haskell paused for a moment, lifting his head. In the sunlight streaming through the window, his brown-black eyes gleamed slightly.

“But early fame comes with challenges. You’ll face jealousy and opposition. Just look at Robert Downey Jr.—he publicly criticized you and never apologized. Then the media started pushing negative stories about you. These are all direct and indirect attacks.

If you were a client of our agency, we would have handled all of this right away, ensuring your public image remained untarnished.

I understand you want to be a pure filmmaker, quietly making movies. But this is Hollywood—a battlefield of fame and fortune. No one here can remain completely uninvolved, and no one can achieve success as a mere bystander.

Link, do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, I understand, and I agree with your perspective. But I’ve heard that talent agencies like to interfere in their clients’ careers—causing them to miss out on great projects, pushing them into bad ones, or even doing worse things. That’s why I have my reservations.”

Link spread his hands as he spoke.

Sam Haskell took a sip from his cup, noticing a faint hint of alcohol in the tea. He didn’t mind, setting the cup down with a smile.

“Link, that’s not just your concern—it’s what a lot of people worry about before signing with an agency. Everyone wants a smooth and beneficial working relationship, not endless conflicts and disputes.

As an agency, we want to grow and profit. We wouldn’t intentionally sabotage our own clients—doing so would damage relationships, hurt our reputation, and weaken our influence.

No agency would willingly do something that harms its own future.

William Morris Agency (WMA) is Hollywood’s longest-running talent agency. We’ve been representing artists since 1898, managing thousands of stars over the years. We may not be the most profitable agency, but we have the best reputation.

In nearly a century, we’ve had very few scandals—you can look that up yourself.

Now, CAA is indeed a powerhouse, but they constantly interfere with their clients’ work, leading to many conflicts. And ICM focuses more on musicians than filmmakers.

Link, if you agree to join WMA, we can put it in writing: We will not interfere with your personal film projects. You have full control over what movies you direct, what scripts you accept, and which actors you hire. We won’t just stay out of it—we won’t take a commission from those projects either.

We will only take a percentage from projects we actively contribute to—whether by securing scripts, assembling production teams, or negotiating endorsements.

In other words, we only earn based on the work we do. If we don’t contribute, we don’t take a cut. This can all be written into the contract.”

“Oh? No interference in my personal projects, and no commission from them either? But if all the films I make in the next few years are independent projects, WMA wouldn’t make any money from me. So why sign me at all?”

Link asked.

“Haha, there are plenty of reasons. First, if you can make multiple films without relying on an agency, it proves you’re an exceptional director. Signing someone like you is an investment in future potential.

Second, as a WMA client, when you plan a movie, we’ll hear about it early and can recommend suitable actors. Of course, these are just recommendations—it’s entirely up to you whether you use them. That, too, is a valuable resource.

And finally, Hollywood is a battlefield of fame and fortune. No one can stay independent forever. A lone wolf can only go so far. Teamwork always yields better results than going solo.

Right now, you haven’t worked with an agency yet, so you might have doubts. But once you do, you’ll realize just how much you stand to gain. I’m sure you understand this.”

Sam Haskell paused for a moment, then gave a knowing smile.

“You’re a director with immense potential. It’s better for us to sign you than let one of our competitors do it.”

That last part was the key.

From Haskell’s perspective, as long as Link was working in Hollywood, he couldn’t stay independent forever.

No director can guarantee every film will be profitable. No career runs smoothly all the time.

If Link’s next film—or the one after that—flopped, he would eventually seek help.

And if he wanted to level up—direct bigger films, secure higher fees, and win prestigious awards—he would need an agency’s support.

Signing Link was also a strategic move for WMA’s growth.

Before 1975, WMA was Hollywood’s dominant talent agency—the undisputed leader of the industry.

But in 1975, five frustrated agents—Michael Ovitz, Ron Meyer, Martin Baum, William Haber, and Roland Perkins—left WMA due to its rigid hierarchy. They founded CAA, which, after a decade of rapid growth, became the world’s most powerful talent agency, boasting an extensive client list.

WMA took an even bigger hit in 1986 when its longtime leader passed away, allowing CAA to completely overshadow it. Many of WMA’s clients defected.

To regain its standing, WMA needed fresh talent—up-and-coming stars who could strengthen its reputation.

And Link, a 20-year-old director who had already made a box office sensation, was an ideal target.

Sam Haskell had personally volunteered to recruit Link when WMA decided to sign him.

At first, he thought it would be an easy job. Most people considered an offer from WMA a great honor and would accept it excitedly.

Given Link’s young age, ordinary background, and lack of industry connections, it seemed like an even easier task.

But to his surprise, Link refused.

He wasn’t flattered by WMA’s attention, nor was he impulsive. Instead, he showed remarkable composure and rational thinking.

Sam Haskell realized he had to take this seriously.

After consulting with the agency, he returned with an even more enticing offer—one designed to secure Link’s signature before a competitor could snatch him away.

Knowing that Link was level-headed and strong-willed, Haskell decided that sincerity was the best approach.

“Link, joining an agency has far more benefits than drawbacks. Even if you don’t sign with WMA, I still believe that.

I sincerely hope you’ll reconsider and allow WMA’s team to support your career.”

Sam Haskell locked eyes with Link, his dark brown gaze filled with earnestness.

“Mr. Haskell, you make a compelling case. Let me think about it—I’ll give you an answer within three days.”

“Alright, Link. I’ll be waiting for your good news.”

After seeing Sam Haskell out, Link continued packing.

He still had a move to finish.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 29: Guess What Pictures  

“Link! Link, are you moving?”  

“Link, are you moving to Beverly Hills?”  

As Link and Chris Bauer carried cardboard boxes downstairs, a group of young men and women gathered around them, greeting him and asking questions.  

“Yes, I’ve rented a small apartment over there,” Link replied, placing the box into the car’s trunk.  

“That’s so enviable.”  

“I’m going to work hard in filmmaking, become a movie star, and move to Beverly Hills too.”  

“Beverly Hills, the holy land of filmmakers—it’s so dreamy.”  

A crowd of over a hundred people surrounded Link and his Cadillac, their faces filled with admiration.  

“The idea of working hard in filmmaking is great. The industry has been growing rapidly in recent years. In 1988, the total North American box office was only $3.5 billion, but last year, it grew to $4.3 billion. The number of films being made each year is increasing, which means there’s a rising demand for actors. These are all opportunities. As long as you put in the effort, you can also become a star, move into a Beverly Hills mansion, and perhaps even surpass me in success.”  

Looking at the group of peers around him, Link clenched his fist and declared, “So keep working hard, everyone! I hope that one day in the future, we can reunite in Beverly Hills and continue being neighbors.”  

“Well said!”  

Clap! Clap! Clap!  

Many people applauded excitedly, and some, overcome with emotion, even shed tears on the spot.  

As Link waved goodbye, he suddenly noticed Monica Bellucci standing behind the third-floor railing, watching him.  

When she saw him looking up, Monica raised her hand and waved. Her cool, elegant face suddenly lit up with a radiant smile.  

Link waved back, then opened the car door and got in. Chris Bauer, eager to see Link’s new place and help with the move, hopped into the passenger seat.  

Beep! Beep!  

The honking echoed between the apartment buildings.  

The brand-new Cadillac gleamed in the brilliant Los Angeles sunshine, flashing its silver-gray brilliance like a streak of lightning as it drove away from the youth apartments toward the glamorous Beverly Hills.  

“Wow, this place is incredible. Luxury stores everywhere, high-end clubs—look at that babe, she’s so hot! She looks just like Jennifer Connelly. Damn, what a figure! Whoa, look over there… Living here must be amazing,” Chris Bauer exclaimed excitedly, craning his neck as they drove down the bustling Beverly Drive.  

Beverly Drive is one of the two largest shopping streets in Beverly Hills, the other being Rodeo Drive, which connects Beverly Hills to downtown Los Angeles.  

This three-kilometer-long street is home to nearly every top-tier luxury brand in the world, including Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Armani, and Dolce & Gabbana. It also boasts many high-end bespoke boutiques, fine-dining restaurants, upscale bars, art galleries, elite clubs, and five-star hotels.  

This is a true playground for the rich. Here, people rarely bargain—haggling is considered beneath them.  

On the main road, luxury cars dominate the traffic. In comparison, Link’s Cadillac DeVille was merely a mid-range vehicle.  

“Link, how much do houses here cost? I need to figure out how much I need to save to buy one.”  

“In the regular residential areas, you can get an apartment for about a million dollars. Large mansions, though, go for tens of millions. You can check real estate magazines for details.”  

“A million? My God, please tell me how I can make a million dollars,” Chris groaned, flexing his arms as if he could muscle his way into wealth.  

The car pulled up in front of 102 Wilshire Boulevard South, an apartment complex known as the Golden Oak Towers. The complex had three high-rise buildings (A, B, and C) facing the street and two more (D and E) near Beverly General Park, each standing 16 stories tall.  

Each floor housed between two and four units, depending on the size of the apartments.  

Every unit had access to two elevators—one public and one private that led directly into the apartment, making it convenient to go up and down.  

Most of the residents here were from the entertainment industry. Some owned properties, while others rented—making up Beverly Hills’ entertainment middle class.  

When Link was purchasing his unit, the real estate agent mentioned that big names like Mel Gibson, Oscar-winning actress Jodie Foster, and renowned director James Cameron also owned properties here.  

Though, of course, the agent didn’t disclose which buildings they lived in.  

Taking the elevator up to the 12th floor of Tower C, Chris Bauer marveled at the luxurious decor, running his hands over the plush carpets, exquisite wallpaper, and dazzling crystal chandeliers. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Wilshire Boulevard, he couldn’t stop exclaiming in amazement.  

Link made a quick phone call, and within half an hour, a furniture company arrived with a pre-ordered set of furniture—sofas, tables, cabinets, and decorative pieces, most of them high-end Italian brands in a chic, minimalist style.  

As the furniture was arranged piece by piece, the apartment gradually took on the warmth of a real home.  

After seeing Chris Bauer off, Link drove to Guess What Pictures on Hollywood Boulevard to meet with the company’s new production chief, Danny DeVito.  

Danny DeVito, now 45 years old, was once an actor. He played significant supporting roles in hit films like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Taxi Driver.  

However, his appearance wasn’t particularly striking—he had a large head, was balding, stocky, and wore thick-rimmed glasses, which limited him to minor roles in films.  

As he aged, his opportunities dwindled even further.  

In the mid-80s, DeVito transitioned into film production. He spent five years in 20th Century Fox’s production department, contributing to films like The War of the Roses, Hoffa, and Twins. He was an experienced but mid-tier producer.  

When Link launched his film company, he posted a job listing at the Producers Guild headquarters, looking for an experienced producer.  

Over ten resumes were submitted in response.  

After reviewing them, Link conducted phone interviews with three candidates and ultimately chose Danny DeVito as Guess What Pictures’ production chief.  

Apart from DeVito, the company had Michael Rison, who managed day-to-day operations, and three other staff members.  

Including Link himself and the soon-to-join Chris Bauer, Guess What Pictures had a core team of seven people.  

At present, the company had three main tasks:  

• Negotiating with United Theaters and 20th Century Fox to ensure timely box office revenue distribution.  

• Preparing for new film projects, securing filming locations, and recruiting skilled crew members. Since Link was a director, he couldn’t always work alone. For future big productions, he needed a consistent team to build synergy.  

• Acquiring scripts and adaptation rights for bestselling books. If they came across promising indie film projects, they could invest in and produce them. 

Thus, Guess What Pictures was officially taking shape. "Link, as per your request, I found five properties. Take a look and see if any of them meet your needs."  

Daniel DeVito pulled up a chair, sat down in front of the desk, and pushed the documents in his hand toward Link.  

Link opened them and took a look. The interior styles of the properties were quite similar. With a few minor adjustments during filming, any of them could be used as a set.  

He reviewed the locations and rental prices before selecting a moderately priced, relatively remote residence in Irvine, south of Los Angeles—about an hour’s drive from Beverly Hills, which wasn’t too far.  

Link picked out that property’s file and handed it to Daniel DeVito, instructing him to arrange the lease and set up the filming location according to the sketches he had drawn.  

"Link, how do you plan to cast the actors? Should we put out a casting call?"  

"No need. I'll play the male lead myself. I have someone in mind for the female lead. Are you interested in acting? You could take on the role of the psychic. As for the remaining female supporting roles, we’ll select from extras. They don’t need to be great actors—just affordable. Our budget is tight, after all."  

"Got it. I understand."  

Daniel DeVito grinned widely. The news reported that Link made millions from his movies, so when he joined Guess What Productions, he assumed he was working for a wealthy boss.  

But to his surprise, this boss was incredibly frugal when making films. The last movie had a production budget of only $20,000, and this one wouldn't exceed that either. The filming locations had to be the cheapest, the actors had to be the cheapest, and even he, the producer, was being roped into acting.  

It was nothing like other directors, who always demanded the best of everything when making a movie.  

Maybe Link was just used to living frugally and couldn't bear to spend more money. As the producer, DeVito felt it was his duty to persuade him.  

"Link, are you sure about shooting this film with just $20,000? I mean, the company isn’t short on money—why not invest a little more?"  

"Daniel, you've seen the script. Ghostly Shadows has a simple plot. We’re using a handheld DV camera for filming, so $20,000 is more than enough. Why spend extra?"  

"I get what you're saying."  

Daniel DeVito hesitated for a few seconds, adjusting his glasses before continuing. "What I mean is—should we consider changing the script?"  

"Changing the script? Why?"  

"Link, you’re a well-known director in Hollywood now. A lot of people are paying attention to your second film. I think you should be more careful with your choice. Ghostly Shadows is interesting, but the story is too simple, and the filming style is quite risky.  

Based on my experience, a movie like this probably won't attract much of an audience. So I hope you'll reconsider and choose a more polished script."  

DeVito spoke hesitantly, a layer of sweat appearing on his shiny forehead.  

"I understand what you’re saying, but don’t worry. This film is only a $20,000 investment. Even if it fails, it won’t be a big deal. Besides, I’m confident I can make it work. Daniel, you’re the producer—just focus on your job. The best way you can help me is by handling production smoothly."  

"Alright, I understand."  

Since Link had made up his mind, Daniel DeVito stopped pressing the issue and left the office.  

Link stayed behind, reading books and newspapers. Midway through, Michael Leeson, the administrative supervisor, came in to report on various matters—office furniture and equipment purchases, the progress of staff recruitment, and financial approvals.  

The company was newly established, and there were many things to handle. With Link busy making movies, he didn’t have much time or energy to deal with these miscellaneous tasks. He decided to have Michael Leeson hire an assistant.  

In the future, company matters would be handled by the assistant first, who would then report everything to him. This would improve efficiency and ensure that unexpected situations could still be addressed when he was away.  

"Also, get me a bigger desk—preferably a solid redwood one."  

Link tapped his fingers on the surface of his current desk. The wooden panels felt flimsy. He preferred something like the one in his dreams—a large, sturdy desk that wouldn’t even budge if a woman with Nicole Kidman’s figure lay on top of it and moved around.  

"Understood, boss. I’ll have it replaced soon."  

Michael Leeson jotted it down in his notebook.  

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 30: The Beautiful Young Woman  

Ring ring~ Ring ring~  

"Link, are you busy? Your Sister Xiaoli has come to America. Do you have time to come back and see her?"  

"Sister Xiaoli?"  

Hearing the familiar dialect over the phone, Link rubbed his temples. A surge of foreign memories filled his hippocampus—memories that didn’t belong to him.  

"Did you forget Liu Xiaoli? Back in ’86, she came to Los Angeles with a dance troupe and stayed at our house for over a month. You used to visit her all the time."  

Aunt Pei reminded him over the phone.  

"Oh, I remember now. Is she at your place? Alright, I have some free time this afternoon. Okay, I’ll be there around the time you finish cooking."  

After hanging up, Link continued reviewing documents, signing off on several purchase orders.  

Around 3 p.m., he left Guess What Studios and drove to El Monte, a city in the eastern part of Los Angeles.  

El Monte is a city in Los Angeles County, about 30 kilometers from downtown—essentially a suburban area of the larger metropolis. The population here isn’t large, only around 100,000 people . In recent years, as housing prices in the city have risen, more families have chosen to settle here.  

His former self had lived here for a few years.  

His previous incarnation was originally a native. At the age of two or three, he was adopted from an orphanage by an American couple, who brought him to Appleton, Wisconsin, in the northeastern United States, where he grew up as an American.  

At the age of nine, his adoptive parents divorced. He moved with his adoptive mother to El Monte, Los Angeles. At fifteen, she passed away from a heart attack. Not wanting to be placed in an orphanage, he ran away and started working as a child laborer in a restaurant nearby.  

That’s how he met Aunt Pei, the restaurant owner’s wife, who took care of him in small ways.  

He drifted through El Monte for over three years before moving to Los Angeles at eighteen to work odd jobs—loading goods at a juice factory and occasionally working as an extra in film productions. Once, while doing a stunt double job, he accidentally fell from a scaffolding.  

At the time, he felt fine, but later that night, he suddenly died.  

The Liu Xiaoli Aunt Pei mentioned was her niece.  

Several years ago, Liu Xiaoli had come to Los Angeles for a performance and stayed at Aunt Pei’s place. His former self had been enamored by her beauty and eagerly acted as her guide, taking her sightseeing—like a devoted admirer.  

Now, Link drove into South El Monte, stopping in front of a restaurant along Valley Boulevard. The restaurant was modest in size, with a sign reading "Old Northeast Restaurant" and walls painted a vibrant red, reflecting traditional aesthetics.  

Link stepped out of the car with a gift in hand and entered the restaurant, greeting Aunt Pei and her husband.  

The patrons dining inside recognized him immediately, enthusiastically praising his movies for being a huge success in America.  

Link responded politely.  

As they spoke, a strikingly beautiful young woman descended the stairs. She had shoulder-length black hair draped over her shoulders, a tall and elegant figure, and wore a beige coat over black pencil pants. Her presence was captivating.  

What stood out most about her was her gentle, sophisticated aura. Her eyes, bright and expressive, carried a hint of allure, making it easy for people to misinterpret her gaze.  

This was Sister Xiaoli—the one Aunt Pei had mentioned.  

What surprised Link was how much she resembled a certain actress’s mother he had met in his past life—except she looked much younger and more stunning, her skin smooth and flawless, free of the wrinkles he remembered.  

"You’re Link? It’s been years since we last met. You’ve grown so much… and so handsome! You almost look like a different person."  

As he observed Liu Xiaoli, she also looked him over with a warm smile. She was about 5'7", a bit shorter than him, and tilted her face slightly upward while smiling at him.  

"It’s been five or six years, and Sister Xiaoli is still as beautiful as ever—like a fairy."  

"Haha, you’ve changed a lot—not just in looks, but you’ve also become quite the sweet talker. I remember you used to blush so easily when speaking."  

Liu Xiaoli laughed, pointing at his face.  

"Well, back then, I was just a little boy. Little boys always blush when they see a beautiful older sister."  

"Aunt Pei, listen to him! He talks like a man in his thirties or forties—so smooth with his words!"  

Liu Xiaoli chuckled, turning to Aunt Pei.  

"Link is an adult now, and don’t all adults talk like this?"  

Aunt Pei smiled and invited them to the dining table inside. A grand spread of authentic dishes awaited them—twice-cooked pork with bamboo shoots, General Tso’s chicken, braised eel soup, Four Happiness meatballs—a mix of Sichuan, Shandong, and Cantonese cuisine.  

As they ate, Link and Liu Xiaoli chatted about her plans in America.  

She had arrived more than a month ago, initially staying in New York. She had even played a small role in the drama "A Native of Beijing in New York."  

Now, she was in Los Angeles, hoping to find a job and settle down.  

"You’re planning to stay here permanently? You must be married by now. What does your husband think about this?"  

"We weren’t compatible, so we divorced last year. Now, I’m raising my daughter on my own."  

Liu Xiaoli casually tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression calm, as if the divorce hadn’t affected her at all.  

"Did you bring your daughter here with you?"  

"Yes, I came with Qianqian."  

"A strong, independent woman!"  

Link teased.  

Liu Xiaoli rolled her eyes at him, her elegant demeanor momentarily replaced by a sharp edge. "Hmph, men are unreliable. If women don’t become strong, what are we supposed to do? Just starve and wait for help?"  

"Have you found a job yet? Are you planning to continue acting?"  

Link took a sip of his soup.  

"No, I just want to settle down quickly. I’m not picky about jobs."  

She hesitated for a moment, as if struggling with a decision, then suddenly smiled with newfound determination.  

"Link, I saw on the news that you’ve become a big-time director. Do you have any connections? Could you help me find a job? I can dance, I speak English, and I know a little French."  

"Of course. You said you’re not picky—so you’d really take any job?"  

"As long as it’s a legitimate job! Don’t even think about suggesting nightclub dancing—I’d be laughed at back !"  

"We’re friends. Why would I suggest something like that?"  

Link put down his spoon and looked at her. "I own a film company, and we’re hiring for several positions—finance, public relations, assistant roles, and logistics management. Let me know which one you’re interested in, and I’ll arrange something for you."  

"Great! I won’t hold back then."  

Liu Xiaoli beamed.  

"Don’t be polite—we’re family."  

"Ooh, your Mandarin is getting more fluent! You must’ve been practicing a lot in private."  

She teased.  

Link tapped his chest.  

"Haha, you’ve really changed! You’re way more interesting than before—though I must say, you’ve also gotten slicker."  

Liu Xiaoli peeled a shrimp and placed it on his plate.  

"This is just how Americans talk—straightforward. You’ll get used to it in a few months."  

After dinner, Link gave Liu Xiaoli his contact information and drove back to Beverly Hills.  

On the way, he received a call from Monica Bellucci, who asked if he was free the next day for coffee and a discussion about a script and role.  

Link gave her the address of Guess What Studios, arranging to meet the next afternoon.  

(End of Chapter)