1066-1070

*Chapter 1066: A Bit Silly*

The air was a little too quiet.

Too quiet, which made it feel unnatural.

"...Oh, Anson."

The physical therapist who had just entered took one look at the scene before her. As long as her eyes were working, she could sense the subtle tension floating in the air.

But she couldn’t stop herself in time and the words slipped out.

Anson turned his head, pretending to be calm.

The physical therapist hesitated for a moment, "Do you need me to leave? I can come back later."

Wrong thing to say!

Anson's throat felt a bit scratchy, but he steadied himself and said, "If you leave now, you'll make something out of nothing. I'm not sure that's helpful."

"So, I think it's better if you stay. Besides, my session is already over, and we should be leaving."

A small joke successfully dissolved the tension, and the awkward atmosphere became relaxed once again.

The physical therapist blinked in surprise: Could it be that she was just imagining things because she wanted to find romance? Maybe there really was nothing going on between Anson and Annie.

Anson had already regained his composure, effortlessly talking his way out of the situation.

Turning to Annie, he asked, "I'm going to grab a coffee. Do you want one? Or are you avoiding caffeine right now?"

Everything was perfect.

Annie, still a little shy, cleared her throat and said, "Orange juice? Does the hospital have that?"

"Come on, hospitals only ever have orange juice, right? I’m so sick of it by now."

Anson rambled on ahead while Annie followed close behind, the two of them leaving the therapy room one after the other.

Inside, the two remaining people exchanged glances until one broke the silence, "So, was there something going on or not?"

Outside, Anson and Annie’s pace began to quicken.

They hadn’t forgotten they were in a hospital, where running and loud noises were off-limits, and other patients were resting. So, they tiptoed quickly, walking fast and speaking in hushed tones.

Once they were out of the patient area, they darted into the stairwell, broke into a jog, burst through the door, and ran out onto the lawn. Their feet moved faster and faster, their laughter spilled out, turning into simple, pure joy.

It was like being kids again.

No reason, just running. No need for a reason, just enough to feel happy.

Happiness used to be that simple.

They ran until their lungs burned, their chests tight with lack of oxygen, and their bodies felt tired. That’s when they finally stopped.

Looking at each other, without any reason, they burst into laughter, like they had just gone through the funniest, most ridiculous, and thrilling moment in the world.

Maybe, after cooling down and thinking about it, they’d realize how silly they had been, but it was moments like these that made you believe life was still full of possibilities.

Sometimes, a little silliness is just what you need.

Huff, huff.

Annie was gasping for breath, hands on her knees. Looking at Anson, whose face was glowing and eyes were bright, she couldn't help but smile. His whole being radiated energy, and just standing there, he was impossible to look away from.

She knew that lately, Anson’s world had been flipped upside down.

The outside world was chaotic, with Sony Columbia and the paparazzi stirring up trouble like leeches, waiting to drain every ounce of value from Anson before discarding him and moving on to the next target.

But that wasn’t all. His inner world was also in turmoil.

Anson’s back injury was much worse than it appeared, more difficult to recover from. But he had to race against time, not just to heal, but to regain his agility and strength. He had to return to set and keep performing all those intense action stunts.

And he’d have to face the wirework again.

Sure, there was always the option of using a stunt double. He didn’t need to put himself at risk.

But things weren’t that simple.

Sony Columbia was still watching him closely, waiting for the slightest slip-up, ready to strike.

If Anson refused to perform his stunts due to his injury, Sony Columbia would have no choice but to support him. They wouldn’t say no.

But behind the scenes, they could play the victim, pretending to be helpless, subtly implying that Anson was using his situation to blackmail them, making Sony Columbia look like the bad guys, forcing them to comply with his demands, revealing his true diva side.

Little by little, if Sony Columbia kept up the charade, they could sway producers, directors, and studio executives to their side, completely overturning the current public opinion.

In the end, while Anson might still get movie offers, his relationships in Hollywood would become increasingly strained. Reputation is hard to shake once it’s set.

For talented actors, like Jim Carrey, skill always wins in the end. But for a "pretty face," it’s a different story.

That’s why Anson was so focused and worked so hard on his rehab.

On the surface, it seemed like Anson had it all under control, effortlessly managing Sony Columbia and emerging as the clear winner of the media storm.

But in reality, he was walking on thin ice.

The path to the top was always like that—full of thorns and traps. One wrong step, and he could be crushed, forgotten.

Over the last twenty days, out of sight of reporters and fans, Anson had sweated, suffered through sleepless nights of pain, and finally conquered his injury, reclaiming control over his body. No one knew the full extent of his struggle.

Even Annie had only seen the tip of the iceberg.

Now, seeing that bright, beaming smile on Anson’s face again, Annie finally understood why there was always a trace of weariness and melancholy hidden beneath his brightness. It was like reading a profound story, and she wanted to take her time and carefully savor every page.

Then, Annie raised her voice, "When are you going back to the set?"

Anson laughed freely, "You think I’m fully recovered already, huh?"

Annie's heart skipped a beat. Could it be... he wasn't?

Anson waved her off. "Nah, it’s just Luca. You know how those guys are, always overthinking. He still treats me like a kid, threatened the doctors to keep me in rehab longer. He doesn’t care about movies or actor schedules."

Annie smiled knowingly, "Yeah, I get it."

Anson said, "The day after tomorrow, I’ll be back on set. I wanted to go back earlier, surprise everyone, but it’s all Luca’s fault."

Annie burst into laughter, "And you were acting all helpless in the therapy room?"

Anson widened his eyes, "Didn’t you say you didn’t see anything? I can’t believe you, Annie. I’m so disappointed."

Watching Anson’s exaggerated head-shaking and sighing, Annie’s heart felt light too.

Growing up was long and painful, but they’d keep going, right?

*Chapter 1067: The Journey Continues*

New York, Manhattan, 425 Lafayette Street, Public Theater.

This theater, known for its keen eye for talent a decade later, would become the only stage willing to give Hamilton a chance. It would not only witness the debut of Hamilton but also kickstart an unparalleled legendary journey, revitalizing Broadway’s brilliance.

However, for now, it remains an obscure small theater on the fringes of Off-Broadway, gaining some recognition for producing and supporting innovative works.

The Public Theater recognized early on that one of the main reasons for the decline of traditional arts was conservatism.

If Broadway and London’s West End clung to their old productions, adaptations of classic works, and refused to embrace the times, to evolve, or to explore further between commerce and art, traditional drama and musicals would eventually be rendered obsolete.

They believed that these art forms still had vitality. Despite the constant impact from various entertainment forms like TV, film, and the internet, the stage still held a unique charm. The key was to change the content.

So, the Public Theater actively encouraged innovation, no matter how shocking or subversive it might be.

This small theater, which couldn’t even accommodate 200 people, stubbornly and bravely claimed its space on the fringes of Off-Broadway, striving to take root.

But in New York, how easy is that?

Even Off-Broadway, far from the core of Broadway and 42nd Street, is still extremely competitive. The fierce competition constantly puts them to the test.

That’s why the Public Theater opened its doors to film crews for shooting—

In the eyes of traditional Broadway theaters, this was a disgraceful compromise.

A theater, they believed, should remain a theater and shouldn’t become a movie theater or a filming location.

Did the Public Theater care?

No, they didn’t.

After all, this was the crew of Spider-Man 2, and the rental fee for just one day of shooting was substantial. The Public Theater had no reason or ability to refuse.

If used wisely, that money could help the Public Theater develop at least three new productions.

From their perspective, this was a great deal.

At this moment, the Spider-Man 2 crew was filming intensely at the Public Theater, which had cleared its schedule just for them.

Although Anson was injured, meaning all of Peter Parker’s scenes had to be paused, this also meant that other scenes could still be shot.

A large crew like Spider-Man 2 always finds a way to keep production moving—

Starting with the set and then breaking down the shots, figuring out which ones required Anson and which didn’t.

Then, the crew rearranged the script’s timeline and entered "no lead actor" mode, allowing filming to proceed smoothly.

Of course, this wasn’t easy.

After all, Peter Parker was the heart of the entire movie, with over 70% of the scenes featuring Anson. Plus, with recent rumors about Sony-Columbia replacing Anson, people had become even more sensitive and critical. The crew had to be extremely careful, as any misstep could plunge them back into a whirlwind of criticism.

But Sony-Columbia had its own considerations—

Every day of delay increased production costs.

Sony-Columbia had already invested too much money into this sequel project, and they couldn’t tolerate further waste.

Since they had to wait for Anson, it became crucial to control costs during the downtime. This decision came after a battle between two chief executives.

Clearly, Amy wanted to give the crew more time, but Michael, still smarting from a recent setback, pushed aggressively—insisting the Spider-Man 2 crew must control costs.

Michael needed this situation to reassert his position, while Amy eventually compromised, shifting the pressure onto the crew.

No matter what the producers and director thought, the decision was made.

Even without the lead actor, the crew kept working; even with the lead actor recuperating, the crew remained busy.

Unexpectedly, but somewhat understandably, the Public Theater's entrance was quiet—no reporters, no crowds, eerily silent.

Without Anson, the Spider-Man 2 crew seemed to have lost all attention overnight, blending in with the countless other crews working in the busy city of New York.

On the bright side, the crew could finally work without distraction, focusing entirely on the shoot. The last thing they needed now was more disruption.

Inside the theater, it was just as quiet—

Not a sound.

Everyone held their breath, fully focused, afraid that even the slightest disturbance could affect the filming. Yet, in the end, it still didn’t help.

“Cut!”

Sam Raimi’s voice echoed, and before he could say anything, Kirsten had already rubbed her face and apologized.

“Sorry, my fault, 100%!”

“Sorry, one more take, okay? Just give me a moment to catch my breath.”

Without more words, Kirsten’s tension and frustration were palpable.

Sam looked a bit concerned. He wanted to ask if Kirsten was okay but hesitated and rephrased his question instead.

“Kirsten, do we need a break?”

Kirsten shook her head quickly. “No, just give me a minute, that’s all.”

Sam opened his mouth. He wanted to tell her not to rush, to take her time, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. After a brief hesitation, he swallowed his words.

The crew’s vibe wasn’t right.

Honestly, Sam didn’t think it was the best idea to continue filming during this period. With Anson still in the hospital and rumors swirling around the crew, every move they made was under intense scrutiny.

It wasn’t just about Anson. The entire crew felt the impact. The aftermath of that paparazzi invasion had silently spread, lingering in every corner. Restarting work without Anson was a challenge for everyone.

Sam didn’t think this was a good idea.

But he had no say in the matter.

And regardless of Anson’s situation, life had to go on.

The crew eventually resumed work, five days after Anson’s accident. But neither Sam nor anyone else felt quite right, inside or out. The energy was off, and they just couldn’t seem to hit their stride.

Filming had resumed, but without the earlier enthusiasm, the process was clumsy and bumpy. There were no major problems, just a general lack of focus.

It felt like working through a hangover—everything functioned, but all the little details were slightly off, affecting the overall efficiency.

A sense of emptiness, disorder, and tension.

But they weren’t allowed to stop.

*Chapter 1068: Falling Short*

In just a few days, it seemed like nothing had changed, as if everything had returned to normal.

However, everything had indeed changed, drastically and unrecognizably.

The entire crew of Spider-Man 2 now felt like they were walking a tightrope. They could sense the tug of internal power struggles within Sony Columbia, feel the pressure of both internal and external scrutiny, and knew that even the slightest misstep could ignite an explosive situation.

Imagine it—innocent, radiant, and unique Anson almost being inexplicably kicked off the set. What about the rest of them, just cogs in the machine?

What's more, now that Anson had stayed on and was shielded by public opinion, would the internal clashes at Sony Columbia result in smaller players becoming scapegoats?

An uneasy gloom and a sense of panic hung over everyone, the atmosphere distinctly different from before.

In reality, both the director and the actors tried—tried hard—to calm down and focus, but no one succeeded.

It was like the current scene.

Kristen’s performance was just off—not because of forgotten lines or misplaced blocking, but in the subtle details like emotional nuance and how she handled eye contact. As a result, the whole scene’s mood felt wrong.

She didn’t even need Sam’s criticism; Kristen herself wasn’t satisfied.

Even if Spider-Man was just a commercial popcorn flick where no one cared about an actor’s “performance energy,” or if Sony Columbia had rejected the idea of giving Mary Jane any real space to act, reducing Kristen to little more than a pretty face who just screamed—a role with no real character arc or room for acting—Kristen still had expectations for herself.

But still, it wasn't working.

The rhythm, the feeling, the state of mind—everything was slightly off.

It wasn’t professional.

Kristen had entered Hollywood at a young age and knew what professionalism meant. No matter if a loved one had died, if her body was racked with illness, or if her personal life was in chaos, once she stood in front of the camera or on stage, she had to be in character, fully present, and temporarily set aside the distractions of real life to deliver a perfect performance.

That’s what being an actor is all about.

But now? She was fidgety and distracted—utterly unprofessional.

It shouldn’t be like this.

More than Sam’s criticism or the stares of the crew, Kristen was trapped in her own self-reproach, unable to shake off the sense of frustration and defeat. She felt both stifled and upset, yet didn’t know how to express it.

Actors suffer more than directors.

Yet, Sam himself wasn’t the type of director who excelled at guiding performances.

He knew the scene wasn’t right and had a clear vision of what he wanted, but he had no idea how to help Kristen adjust or how she should act it out. Beyond telling her to take a 30-minute break to regain her focus, he couldn’t offer much assistance.

At that moment, Sam finally understood Alfred Hitchcock.

Hitchcock had always hated method acting and was a staunch advocate of presentational acting.

He didn’t need actors to delve into the inner psyche of a character or portray emotional depth. He just wanted actors to convey the right emotional effect. Fear meant fear—there was no need to distinguish between surface-level fear or deep-seated terror. A scream, panic, a flickering gaze—that’s all it took.

Everything was simple and straightforward.

In this way, directing performances became simpler as well.

Right now, Sam wished for that kind of presentational acting. There was no need to dig deeper; he just wanted to wrap up this torturous scene as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, Sam wasn’t Alfred Hitchcock.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, he swallowed them back down.

Sam thought to himself that Kristen was a great actor. Given a little more time, things would surely improve. If a director doesn’t know how to guide an actor, the wisest thing to do is trust them—give them space and allow them to perform at their own pace.

Few people knew that Kristen held herself to incredibly high standards.

After all, since becoming an adult, she had been trying to shake off the label of child star. She’d been working on films like Bring It On, Crazy/Beautiful, and Get Over It. Even though she tried exploring her acting range in independent art films, it was hard for people to break their stereotyped view of her.

But Kristen had her own expectations and hopes.

When told to take a minute-long break, she used exactly that minute to take a deep breath and quickly regain her calm. She nodded toward the monitor, indicating she was ready to go again.

Sam didn’t object.

The scene started again.

Kristen, true to form, adjusted quickly. Her body language relaxed, and her facial expressions were much clearer in conveying emotion.

However, Sam’s face remained impassive as he watched the monitor—there was no visible reaction.

If Kristen’s earlier performance was a 70, this was a 79.

Sam wasn’t expecting a perfect score. Hoping for perfection in every take while shooting a movie would only lead to ruining himself, the crew, and the entire project.

Sam wasn’t a perfectionist.

He aimed for an 80. And this take was very, very close, but it still felt like something was missing.

“Cut.”

The scene ended, and Sam paused the filming, but he didn’t say much else.

Standing on the stage of the theater, Kristen took a deep breath. “Director, I’d like to try again.”

Sam didn’t agree, but he didn’t refuse either.

He was thinking about how this scene could be shot to achieve the right effect. If he didn’t have an answer, shooting it a hundred more times wouldn’t change anything.

“Hey, director, can I help?” a polite voice came from behind him.

Without turning around, Sam said, “No.”

The voice didn’t give up. “I could help run lines. Maybe it would make Kristen’s focus on her eyeline easier.”

Sam still didn’t turn around. “I said no.”

The voice finally went quiet, and the area around the monitor fell silent again.

Several beats later, Sam hesitated for a moment, his mind pausing. Why did that voice sound so familiar?

He suddenly sat up straight, turning his head—and there it was, that handsome face.

Sam’s perpetually sleepy eyes suddenly widened in surprise, unable to hide his delight.

“Anson!”

Sitting there on a small stool, looking obedient and innocent, was none other than Anson.

A rush of joy and excitement surged in Sam’s chest. He never realized how happy he’d be to see Anson again.

But why was Anson here?

According to the schedule, Anson wasn’t supposed to return to the set for another five days. Despite the doctor’s original estimate of a three- to six-week recovery period, no one expected Anson to be fully healed and back on set after just three weeks.

Anson played Spider-Man, but he wasn’t actually Spider-Man.

If his recovery didn’t go as planned, even returning in five days might be a stretch.

So what was happening here?

Chapter 1069: A Narrow Miss

Shock, surprise.

Joy, excitement.

Various emotions swirled within Sam's chest as he intently observed Anson. For a fleeting moment, he even began to doubt his own eyes.

Instinctively, Sam glanced left and right, trying to confirm that he wasn’t the only one seeing Anson.

One small movement, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of Anson’s mouth. “Relax, director, this isn’t Phantom of the Opera.”

Then, Anson also turned to look around. “I guess the Public Theater isn’t big enough—there aren’t many places to hide.”

Now, Sam was 100% certain that the person in front of him was indeed Anson.

He couldn’t have imagined this kind of scenario with his own mind.

But still, he was a little dazed. Sam couldn't wrap his head around it. “But how are you here?”

Anson looked shocked: “...Director, have I become an unwelcome guest?”

Sam suddenly realized how his words might have come off. He quickly waved his hands and shook his head, trying to explain but not knowing where to start.

Anson’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he gently patted Sam’s shoulder. “Director, please continue your work. Don’t let me interrupt the shoot. Otherwise, if I make you all work late, I might really become an unwelcome guest on set.”

Sam’s brain was still a bit scrambled, unable to keep up with Anson’s train of thought.

Anson took the initiative. “Director, are you sure you don’t need my help? I can help Kristen rehearse.”

Sam didn’t say a word, just nodded repeatedly: Of course! Of course! That would be perfect!

Anson smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Shhh!”

Anson signaled everyone to keep quiet.

It seemed like nothing had changed.

The past three weeks had been like a brief summer afternoon nap, and when they opened their eyes, everything was back to normal.

But was it really? Or were they still in some kind of dream—perhaps a midsummer night’s dream?

Sam wasn’t entirely sure.

He looked around and saw that everyone else, like him, was watching Anson’s back with excitement, confusion, joy, and a sense of surreal wonder. Even though their eyes were filled with disbelief, their slightly upturned lips betrayed their true feelings.

The atmosphere lightened, quietly and effortlessly.

The person at the center of all this seemed blissfully unaware of the commotion he had caused.

Anson moved away from the monitors, hunched over like a latecomer sneaking into a theater performance, apologizing softly as he made his way through the rows of crowded extras filling the theater.

To film this scene, the room was packed to capacity. The extras filled the indoor space, but it wasn’t until they experienced it firsthand that they realized how tedious shooting could be. The five or ten seconds that might appear on screen could take an entire day to film. They were trapped in the theater, stuck in an endless loop.

And now someone was late?

A faint murmur of protest rippled through the audience as extras expressed their annoyance. But this wasn’t a real theater, and they weren’t real audience members. After a brief stir, they quickly quieted down again.

Then a thought hit them:

Wait a second—was that man who just passed by… Anson?

…

On stage, Kristen was struggling to focus.

She had been mulling over her performance, thinking she had found the right feeling, but still felt something was off. And the director hadn’t given any feedback, which only confirmed to her that her performance wasn’t quite there yet. She was stuck in a state of doubt, unable to trust her own judgment.

She wanted another take.

But they had already been working in the theater for over two hours without any breakthrough. Every additional take was more torture for the entire crew. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but for once, she hesitated.

She felt a lack of confidence.

Then, a commotion from the audience distracted her. It seemed like even the extras were growing impatient, which only deepened Kristen’s hesitation and inner turmoil.

That feeling… was terrible.

And then—

“Let’s go again.”

Sam’s voice came from behind the monitors, causing Kristen to breathe a sigh of relief. She responded crisply.

“Okay!”

She turned around, took a deep breath, clenched her fist, and silently cheered herself on.

This scene focused on Mary Jane.

In the second installment of the series, Mary Jane, always insecure, had confessed her feelings to Peter Parker but was rejected. In her confusion and heartache, she quickly jumped into another relationship, using it as an escape from reality.

However, emotions aren’t like a switch you can flip on or off at will. Mary Jane still liked Peter Parker, and she couldn’t understand why Peter had rejected her.

Because Peter seemed to like her. His looks, his attitude, and his subtle signals all suggested that, though they were hard to pin down.

After graduation, Mary Jane’s dreams of becoming an actress were finally coming true. She was discovered on the street, filmed a commercial, and got an opportunity to perform in an off-Broadway show. Finally, she was becoming an actress.

Mary Jane kept inviting Peter—along with her other friends—to watch her performance. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but she hoped to see Peter in the audience.

She kept telling herself that Peter had rejected her, that he was part of her past, and that nothing had ever really started between them. She shouldn’t hope for more.

But she couldn’t help herself.

There was something she just couldn’t explain.

And then, disappointment followed. Time and time again, Peter promised to come to her show but kept standing her up. This left Mary Jane deeply hurt.

Not only by Peter, but also by herself.

In truth, Peter genuinely wanted to go. He truly wanted to see her perform. But time and time again, Spider-Man duties got in the way.

Just like his decision to reject her, Peter wanted to take on the responsibilities of being Spider-Man. The cost, however, was his own life, which was torn apart by constant crime and unexpected events. That’s why he kept missing her shows.

While Mary Jane suffered in agony, Peter was going through the same turmoil.

Yet Mary Jane had no idea.

After repeatedly hoping, only to be disappointed over and over again, she fell into a deep well of pain.

She believed it was her own fault. She shouldn’t keep longing for a man who would never reciprocate. She should focus on the happiness right in front of her.

So, she agreed to marry her current boyfriend.

But then, to her shock, she saw Peter sitting in the audience.

The scene they were filming now was this one.

After hoping and being let down so many times, Mary Jane had finally resolved to move on with her life. But just as she had made that decision, there was Peter, sitting in the audience.

It was as if fate itself was playing a cruel joke on her.

Mary Jane thought she had buried her feelings and was ready to say goodbye to Peter, but in the instant she saw him, it was like a lightning bolt hit her.

The emotional impact was overwhelming—chaotic and intense—leaving her completely off guard.

Even she hadn’t expected the feelings to be so strong. They shook her to her core, leaving her panicked and…

*Chapter 1070: Blurring the Line Between Reality and Fiction*

Without a doubt, the focus of this scene was entirely on Kristen.

Kristen tried to dial it back, to avoid delivering a performance that felt like a cheesy soap opera, full of over-the-top dramatics. She also wanted to avoid the exaggerated feel of a teen romance film, keeping things grounded.

During script discussions before filming, Kristen was faced with a harsh reality:

Sony-Columbia wanted Mary Jane to simply be eye candy, playing the role of a trophy without much concern for character arcs or performances.

Kristen understood this—she hadn’t forgotten it—but that didn’t mean she would allow her performance to feel artificial or lifeless.

Especially in front of Anson.

Kristen knew how successful Anson’s performance as Peter Parker was in "Spider-Man." His ability to capture the hearts of the audience came from his fresh and genuine portrayal. Kristen didn’t want her acting to look cheap next to Anson’s.

But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Sam, the director, wanted more drama, a bit more exaggeration, as the soap opera style was exactly what Sony-Columbia was aiming for.

Since the first film was close to a high school drama, the second one was expected to continue in that vein, even mirroring “The Graduate” to lock in the younger audience’s attention.

This put Kristen in a tough spot, struggling to find the balance between her own principles and the director’s vision.

So, she hit wall after wall, take after take, with the details never quite coming together.

Frustration was inevitable.

Now, with another opportunity in front of her, Kristen silently told herself: You’ve got this! Trust yourself!

She turned to the monitor, signaling she was ready.

The rustling in the theater quieted down as everyone entered filming mode.

The lights focused on the stage, leaving the audience in darkness. However, to help Kristen with her eyeline, there was a small standing lamp where Peter Parker would appear, making sure she could find the emotional hit point.

Kristen closed her eyes, immersing herself in the character, slowly tracing the emotional thread, unraveling it bit by bit.

“Action!”

The clapperboard snapped beside her.

Kristen didn’t rush to say her lines. She’d picked up an important habit while filming "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" from Kate Winslet and Anson:

Building the performance framework.

Instead of going with the flow, it was crucial to understand the character's state of mind, the emotional direction, and the changes in relationships in each scene. Once a framework was in place, she could gradually release the energy, and then allow herself to lose control within the framework, handing the rest over to instinct.

This scene wasn’t particularly challenging. Kristen could already see the emotional arc and the framework; she just needed patience to clear her mind.

One second, two seconds—

She was ready.

Opening her eyes, she looked at her scene partner in the play, giving him a glance to signal she was prepared.

On stage, a man stood, turning toward the woman seated at a tea table. He pronounced, “Honestly, I’m not a bad person. Don’t think of me as the bad guy.”

The woman smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the man. “If you aren’t, then you’ve been deceiving us. That kind of behavior is unforgivable.”

“I hope you’re not two-faced, pretending to be bad while secretly being kind. That would be too hypocritical...”

The woman smiled playfully, her gaze casually sweeping over the audience. Among the sea of faces, she easily spotted that one person—

Anson Wood.

Kristen froze. Completely froze. Her mind went blank, all thoughts of performance and character forgotten, and she lost her ability to react.

She was utterly stunned.

The dialogue around her continued, “Of course, I was a little bad in the past.”

But Kristen heard none of it. Her ears automatically blocked out all sound, as if she had fallen into a rabbit hole, entering a completely different world.

Anson? Why is Anson here? When did he arrive on set?

Wait, or was this all in her head?

But how was she supposed to face Anson? Although Sony-Columbia had failed to replace him in the end and Anson kept his role, did Jake Gyllenhaal reach out to him? If they did talk, did they resolve everything? If not, how should she approach this?

Honestly, she couldn’t untangle the jumbled mess of thoughts. Everything came crashing down, a mix of joy and bitterness flooding her senses.

Kristen didn’t have time to think about the performance or the character, and she wasn’t even concerned about the filming. She just froze.

One second—just one brief second—everything stopped, as if time and space hit pause, making everything else seem insignificant.

Then.

Kristen saw Anson’s smile widen, and he silently mouthed, “Hey.”

It was soft, sunny, bright, like a beam of light in the endless darkness, warming Kristen’s heart.

All the confusion, all the wild thoughts, suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore.

A smile slowly spread across Kristen’s face, and she silently mouthed back, “Hey.”

—“I’m very happy.”

Someone called out.

From the side of the stage, someone whispered urgently, but the theater’s acoustics were so good that if they wanted Kristen to hear, the front-row audience would also catch it.

Huh? Wait, who’s calling? What’s going on?

The atmosphere became a bit awkward.

Anson raised an eyebrow, subtly motioning with his eyes.

Kristen, a beat behind, blinked and looked around, snapping out of her daze:

Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?

—“I. Am. Very. Happy.”

From the wings, the voice continued in slow, deliberate syllables, trying to pull her back.

Kristen saw the stage manager standing offstage, pleading with her silently, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow, urging her to continue.

But Kristen was still confused.

Was she Kristen Dunst or Mary Jane?

The line between performance and reality, between movie and life, had disappeared entirely.

When Kristen saw Anson, when Mary Jane saw Peter, the two distinct yet eerily similar moments merged seamlessly together. The conflicting emotions of joy, nervousness, anxiety, and relief swirled into a storm in her chest.

So, what now?

She was both Mary Jane and Kristen.

But how should she respond?

Real and fake, truth and illusion, all mixed together.

Instinctively, Kristen glanced toward the monitor for help, wondering if they should call for a retake.

Her gaze barely shifted when she pulled it back, realizing she had already held things up long enough today. If she delayed any further...

Before Kristen even realized it, her eyes landed on Anson again.

So, what now?