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Chapter 876: Splitting into Two Groups

There are generally two ways to attend the Cannes Film Festival:

One way is to stay in a hotel, with a short stay of one or two nights, and then leave quickly. This is often the case for guests who rely on brand sponsorships to get an invitation.

The other way is to rent a villa, where the entire film crew stays together, ensuring they move as a unit and can complete promotional activities during the festival.

Of course, there are exceptions.

Some brand sponsors might choose to rent villas, while some film crews might stay in hotels.

Anson is one such exception.

Originally, Dior had reserved a room for Anson in the most luxurious and top-tier hotel in Cannes, just steps away from the Palais des Festivals. Not only was it convenient, but Anson would also be constantly in the spotlight, living every moment under the attention of the Cannes Film Festival.

However, Anson had different plans.

He intended to stay in Cannes for two weeks. In addition to the screening of "Elephant," he wanted to fully immerse himself in the festival's lively atmosphere. This wasn't going to be a quick visit just for the premiere.

So, Anson politely declined Dior's offer. Edgar rented a villa, and Noah arrived two days early to Cannes to prepare everything for Anson and his friends.

The villa was tucked away in lush greenery, barely revealing a corner of the ivory-white building.

Inside the two-story building were eight rooms, with a spacious and bright living room, and a dining room and study filled with vintage furniture.

Opening the balcony doors, one could stretch out their arms and embrace the endless blue of the ocean and sky, stretching all the way to the horizon.

Staring at the edge of the world, you can't help but imagine what the round Earth looks like. Could you really travel all the way around and come back to the starting point?

But Anson didn’t have time to daydream.

After a short rest, Noah drove Anson away—heading toward the town center.

For Cannes, Anson's style was divided into two parts:

His casual outfits were all selected by Melvin ahead of time and brought by Noah for Anson to mix and match as he pleased.

For the red carpet, Dior was in charge. Anson would fulfill his commitment to Dior. After missing the Oscars, it didn’t matter, as he was now returning to Dior’s main stage, with Hedi Slimane overseeing his Cannes look.

In Paris, Anson had already met with Hedi to try on and select several outfits.

But there was one detail:

This year, Hedi’s designs were ultra-tailored. Although his designs had been fitted before, this year took it to the next level—almost skin-tight. The outfits perfectly highlighted a slim, pale figure, evoking a vampire-like aura.

The key was that while the clothes were tight, they shouldn’t look tight. This meant every inch of fabric and every little detail was critical.

So, even though the fittings were done in Paris, it had been three weeks since then. Anson still needed a final fitting upon arriving in Cannes.

Even the smallest error would require Hedi to make quick adjustments.

Now, Anson was on his way to the hotel to meet Hedi for a fitting, ensuring there would be time to adjust before the “Elephant” premiere.

The Boulevard de la Croisette runs east to west along the beach and is the most central and bustling street in Cannes. If you ever get lost, just find this straight, wide street, and you’ll have found your way.

Hotels, the Palais, restaurants, bars...and all the major luxury brands have flagship stores here, waiting for the festival-goers.

It’s no exaggeration to say this is the heart of Cannes.

Naturally, everyone wants to stay on the Boulevard de la Croisette, under the spotlight. Cannes is a small town, and hotel rooms are in high demand. Often, you need to book a hotel here six months or even a year in advance, or risk being pushed out of the spotlight.

Among the many hotels, there are three top luxury hotels on the Boulevard de la Croisette that are the crown jewels. Everyone wants to stay here. Even without doing anything, just coming and going, you become the focus.

One of these is the Majestic Barrière, Cannes' official partner hotel for the festival. It’s only about 100 meters from the Palais, with easy access to the red carpet. It’s the designated hotel for the jury, and most of the big stars in the main competition stay here as well.

Dior, as the festival’s biggest sponsor, has an entire floor reserved at the Majestic Barrière—permanently.

All the furniture, design, and decor were created by Dior’s official team, and all their special guests stay here, enjoying a distinct level of elegance.

Dior had arranged for Anson to stay here.

Noah pulled up the car in front of the hotel and hesitated for a moment as he looked at Anson.

"Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you? Edgar told me to stick to you like glue. That’s the most important thing."

Anson looked seriously at Noah. “Trust me, you have a more important task, okay? I need to know the entire festival schedule, including screenings for different venues and sections.”

“Noah, do you know how busy a film festival is?”

Noah blinked and shook his head.

Anson was used to this.

“Good, it’s better that you don’t. So, you should follow my lead.”

“Or do you want me to go to the Palais and ask for the schedule myself?”

“Oh, that’s actually a good idea. I’ve heard there are treasures in the gift shop. Maybe I should check it out myself.”

Before Anson could finish, Noah shook his head vigorously, like a bobblehead, “No, no, Anson, I’ll go. Leave these small things to me.”

Anson nodded in satisfaction. “Then I’ll wait for your report. And remember, this is the only important task today.”

He got out of the car, watched as Noah drove off, and smiled to himself.

Edgar was too nervous, and Miles wasn’t much better.

To Anson, America was America, and Europe was Europe. The Cannes Film Festival was different. No one would notice him, even if he was Spider-Man.

Of course, he did expect some applause and cheers.

But more than for himself, he hoped the applause would be for “Elephant.”

At a festival, praise for the work is what truly matters.

So, there was no need to be so on edge.

Turning around, Anson spotted a bellboy waiting at the door to greet guests.

The bellboy hesitated for a moment, not seeing any luggage or companions. Without the usual markers to gauge a guest’s status, he didn’t immediately recognize Anson.

But Anson calmly nodded and walked into the hotel lobby, found his direction, and headed toward the elevator.

The bellboy paused—wait, who was that?

Before the bellboy could figure it out, Anson had already stepped into the elevator.

However!

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand shot out, stopping the doors and squeezing in breathlessly.

*Chapter 877: A Duo of Comedy*

Thud.

A hand pried open the elevator doors, followed by rapid, heated breaths, reminiscent of a zombie. Just before the doors could close, the air froze for a brief moment.

Wait, was it the bellboy?

It was Anson's first time at the majestic Barrière Hotel in Cannes, and he wasn't sure if he needed to check in at the front desk before visiting a guest.

The next moment, a youthful face popped in, beaming with a radiant smile. Without even glancing inside the elevator, they quickly apologized.

"Sorry, I thought I could make it."

The slightly husky voice carried a hint of sunshine, easily leaving a lasting impression.

Anson lifted his chin slightly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "No need to worry, I’m in no rush. I think, on the Côte d'Azur, everything can slow down a bit."

Light, bright, lazy, and casual.

A voice can be someone's business card. Some are unique, some are ordinary, and some leave a deep impression.

Scarlett Johansson blinked in surprise: Is this…?

She quickly looked up.

Then Scarlett saw Anson’s refined, handsome face. His lips still curved in a familiar soft smile, and his eyes shimmered faintly.

A completely unexpected encounter.

Clearly, it wasn’t just Scarlett who was caught off guard; Anson was too.

Their eyes met. After a brief moment of surprise, they exchanged knowing smiles, with soft laughter reverberating in their chests.

Scarlett straightened her posture, stepped into the elevator, nodded slightly at Anson, pressed the floor button, and retreated to another corner. Both of them stood in opposite corners, leaning against the walls.

Their gazes met briefly, quietly observing each other.

Neither spoke, as if they were filming a spy movie. Whether it was more like The Bourne Identity or Mr. & Mrs. Smith was anyone’s guess.

Scarlett, now seeing Anson, slowly began to understand. It wasn’t that surprising after all—

The news that The Elephant had been selected for the Cannes main competition had already spread online. However, the world premiere of The Elephant was supposed to be on the third day. Anson’s early arrival in Cannes indicated that he had more than just the movie promotion on his agenda. Could it be that Anson had other events or commitments?

Meanwhile, Anson was trying to figure out the real reason Scarlett had come to Cannes—

If he remembered correctly, Scarlett didn’t have any films in the Cannes selection—not in any category. Could it be because of Lost in Translation? Anson thought Lost in Translation had been in the Venice Film Festival. So, there had to be another reason for Scarlett's presence here.

As their eyes briefly crossed, thoughts swirled, possibilities collided, and neither had spoken yet.

"You…"

Scarlett finally broke the silence, just as she was about to ask.

Unexpectedly—

Ding.

The elevator stopped again, interrupting the conversation. They were only on the second floor.

Anson and Scarlett both turned their heads toward the doors, the atmosphere becoming slightly awkward.

Though nothing had happened, being in the Barrière Hotel during the Cannes Film Festival, surrounded by celebrities, journalists, colleagues, and industry professionals, even the slightest thing could be interpreted in countless ways. Suddenly, they both grew wary, their nerves a little tense.

The newcomer was a woman.

Around her mid-thirties, with shoulder-length light chestnut hair, neatly cut, wearing a white T-shirt under a dark gray plaid blazer, and carrying a small, square designer bag.

One look was enough to know she wasn’t a journalist.

The woman barely glanced at Anson and Scarlett, politely nodding in greeting, before turning to face the elevator doors, standing directly in front of them.

The doors slowly closed.

Nobody spoke, and it felt as though they could hear the cables whirring in the elevator shaft.

Ahem.

Anson cleared his throat. "Someone was following me again last night."

Woman: ???

Scarlett: ???

Where did that come from? What was Anson doing?

In just one second, the woman connected the dots—this was Cannes, and during the film festival, countless stories circulated, including romantic scandals.

So, is this one of them?

The woman’s curiosity was piqued, and her shoulders tensed slightly. Although she tried not to react, it was clear her attention was focused, her ears straining to catch every detail.

Anson noticed, and so did Scarlett.

A flash of insight hit Scarlett as she realized Anson was pulling a prank.

Ha.

Scarlett’s lips twitched into a smile, but worried about giving herself away, she quickly reined it in, adopting a serious demeanor. She turned to look at Anson, maintaining her composure.

"Stop being so paranoid," Scarlett said, her back pressed against the elevator wall, putting on an exaggerated look of vigilance.

Scarlett knew the woman in front of them wouldn’t turn around. The more someone eavesdropped, the more obvious it became. Trying to act nonchalant would only make them more conspicuous.

But Scarlett decided to play along, mimicking the spy-movie vibe.

Anson caught the performance—

And played right along.

He too leaned against the wall, keeping his eyes forward, his lips barely moving as he muttered under his breath in a ventriloquist-style whisper.

"I’m telling you, they’ve got their eyes on me."

Scarlett, lowering her voice, grew curious about where the story was headed. "Come on, who would recognize you? You’ve had so much plastic surgery."

Anson: ???

Anson shot a look at Scarlett, a silent question: Me?

Scarlett, looking completely unbothered, fought to keep her lips from twitching upward. "How many times was it? Three?"

Anson tilted his head slightly. "Seven."

Scarlett nearly burst out laughing but clenched her fists to maintain control. "The surgery was a success. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a movie star?"

In front of them, the woman’s eyes widened, her jaw nearly dropping.

Thump. Thump.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

She thought she was being calm, but had no idea her upper body was slowly leaning backward in astonishment. To Anson and Scarlett, it looked like she was performing a move worthy of Michael Jackson.

Anson glanced at Scarlett. "Oh, those stupid Hollywood stars?"

Pfft.

Scarlett almost lost it, just barely managing to maintain control. "Yes, those arrogant, foolish Hollywood stars. This is Cannes, you can blend in perfectly here. No one will notice. It was definitely your imagination last night."

Anson chuckled. "Yeah, just like Elizabeth thought. And what happened to her?"

The woman: Elizabeth? Which Elizabeth? Elizabeth Taylor? Elizabeth Shue? Elizabeth Moss? Elizabeth Banks? God, there are too many Elizabeths in Hollywood!

Scarlett: "Elizabeth was careless. She never should’ve gone back to Zurich."

Wait, Zurich? Was this about seeking asylum or some spy operation?

Anson let out a soft sigh. "Damn it, I just don’t want any more bloodshed. I’ve had enough. They better not push me any further."

*Chapter 878: The Wooden Prosthetic*

*Rivers of Blood?*

The air suddenly fell silent—

In a second, the lady in front stood up straight. She no longer leaned back or eavesdropped. If she wasn’t worried about exposing herself, she might have already covered her ears with her hands to declare her innocence.

Her neck was stiff, her shoulders tense, as she used every ounce of strength to resist the urge to turn around out of curiosity and see their faces. Otherwise...

The lady's attention was completely focused on Anson and Scarlett, oblivious to her own reflection in the elevator door.

Rigid. Grimacing. On the verge of tears.

Scarlett glanced at the reflection on the elevator door, then tilted her head slightly toward Anson.

She was already in character, lowering her voice to a near-whisper, "Don’t worry, you’re safe now."

"No one knows you’re in Cannes. No one."

Anson shook his head slightly, "Ha. You really don’t understand how groundhogs operate, do you? So young, so naive."

Groundhog?

Groundhog???

Ding.

The elevator door opened again. The lady, desperately trying to maintain her composure, left with an air of calmness. But she had no idea that, in reality, she was fleeing in utter panic, almost scrambling on all fours as she bolted out of the elevator as soon as there was a gap.

Ah.

A startled yelp escaped her.

But the lady didn’t stop, terrified that even a slight delay would mean the end of her life.

Scarlett could no longer contain herself—

Pfft.

She burst out laughing.

Haha, hahaha.

She clutched her stomach, laughing uncontrollably, almost collapsing to the floor.

Anson was the same, a smile on his face. He composed himself slightly, looking at the high heel left behind in the elevator, with a serious expression.

"So, Cinderella’s story can actually happen?"

Hahaha.

The laughter was deafening.

Scarlett looked at Anson, wiping away tears of laughter, "Oh God, oh God."

Anson finally let go, laughing heartily, "Haha, we’re terrible! How could we do this to an innocent lady?"

"We?" Scarlett quickly pulled her smile back, disassociating herself, "It was just you! Groundhog’s operating style? That’s pure evil. I almost couldn’t keep it together."

Anson raised his hands, pressing them against the wall in a surrender gesture, "To be honest, we really shouldn’t have. That lady was too innocent. I’m starting to wonder if she’ll be able to sleep tonight."

Scarlett nodded repeatedly, "Yes, 100%, you’re right. This was awful. We should be more careful about our public image. Things like this could ruin our careers."

"And it could set a bad example for kids. We don’t want that, right?" Anson added.

Scarlett nodded in agreement, "We should lead by example."

Ding.

The elevator stopped again, and a silver-haired man entered.

The man looked at Anson and Scarlett, nodding politely. Both of them fell silent, smiling back in acknowledgment.

The elevator doors slowly closed.

Then—

Scarlett leaned slightly toward Anson, lowering her voice, "How did you manage to get through customs?"

Anson chuckled softly, "They didn’t check my wooden prosthetic."

Gasp.

The silver-haired man immediately froze, his breath catching audibly as he tried to hold it in. He stood stiffly in place.

Scarlett wanted to say more but found herself torn between sympathy and laughter, so she stayed silent, staring at the crack in the elevator wall, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

At the next floor, the silver-haired man hurriedly pressed the open button and rushed out.

But as he hurried, he tripped. Looking down, he saw the lone high heel left behind, and with a start, he let out a shriek.

"Ah!"

The sound was abruptly cut off as he darted away in a flash.

He vanished in an instant, leaving only the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway, fading into the distance.

Inside the elevator, Anson and Scarlett exchanged glances, both smiling. As soon as the doors closed, they burst into laughter.

The air was filled with a joyful atmosphere.

It was only then that Anson asked, "How did the groundhog end up in Cannes?"

One question, and Scarlett’s laughter returned. She had to wipe her eyes again, "A movie. I’m purely here to see some films."

"Oh, by the way, congrats. Congrats on ‘The Elephant’ being shortlisted for the main competition. It’s definitely one of the films I’m most looking forward to this year in Cannes."

Anson shrugged lightly, "Actually, I’m looking forward to it too, since I haven’t had the chance to see the final cut. I’m not sure what the finished film looks like."

"But aside from that, I’m also excited about the other films at this year’s festival."

Scarlett was a bit surprised. Anson wasn’t just there for the main competition red carpet; for him, the festival was truly about the films.

But on second thought, it made perfect sense—

That’s so Anson.

In fact, she felt the same way.

Up until last week, Scarlett had been in the Netherlands filming "Girl with a Pearl Earring."

In the 17th century, Dutch master Johannes Vermeer painted the famous "Girl with a Pearl Earring." In 1999, British author Tracy Chevalier wrote a fictional love story inspired by the painting, sparking worldwide discussion.

Now, a film adaptation of Chevalier’s novel was in production. To capture the essence of the era, the crew decided to shoot on location in Vermeer’s hometown of Delft, recreating the period’s atmosphere for authenticity.

Scarlett had been in the Netherlands throughout this time.

After finishing filming, she didn’t return home immediately, opting for a brief vacation in Europe. She had spent the past six months working non-stop—

A real workaholic.

Now, finally on a short break, Scarlett needed some breathing room.

Initially, she had planned a backpacking trip around Europe; but the allure of Cannes Film Festival proved irresistible, and her journey naturally led her to the French Riviera.

So, here she was.

Of course, attending the festival as a viewer didn’t mean she was just any ordinary audience member. Scarlett was on her way to meet a friend.

Then came this little unexpected encounter with Anson.

As Anson’s words sank in, an idea popped into Scarlett’s head.

"Ah, ‘Mystic River’!"

Anson immediately understood, "That’s the movie you’re most excited about in Cannes, isn’t it?"

"Mystic River," directed by the legendary Clint Eastwood, starring Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, and Kevin Bacon, was one of the most anticipated films of the festival.

Without a doubt, it was considered a top contender for the Palme d’Or this year.

Compared to "The Elephant," "Mystic River" had far more buzz and attention, a quintessential Hollywood heavyweight.

Scarlett realized she had accidentally revealed her true feelings, and her cheeks flushed slightly, "What? Aren’t you excited for it?"

Anson shook his head, "No."

Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise, completely caught off guard by his answer.

Chapter 879: Wild Growth

He… just denied it, like that.

Anson remained Anson, and his unexpected response completely caught Scarlett off guard.

It was a rare moment where Scarlett stared at Anson in shock and amazement, forgetting what to say.

Anson spread his hands. "Hey, haven't you watched enough of those Hollywood narratives? Now that you're in Cannes, you should experience works born from different regions and systems, films that diverge from the Hollywood industrial machine."

"What I mean is, it's not just about European art directors, there's much more out there."

Calm, confident, direct.

And, convincing.

Scarlett's eyes slowly filled with a smile—

She had to admit, Anson was right. Yet again, she was convinced.

However, standing in front of Anson, Scarlett decided not to play by the usual rules. "The point is, you're not even going to engage in some polite small talk?"

Anson: "Do you want me to small talk?"

Scarlett: …

Anson: "You know I can, and I’m actually quite good at it."

Scarlett finally couldn’t hold back anymore. A full smile spread across her face. "I believe you," she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Anson caught on.

But why? What was with Scarlett’s gaze and smile?

Was there something hidden in her words?

Thoughts paused for a moment in his mind, circled around, and suddenly clicked.

"Wait, you're here as an invited guest for the Mystic River premiere, aren't you?"

Though phrased as a question, the certainty in his tone was unmistakable. Anson knew it was the correct answer.

Scarlett didn't reply, but her smile bloomed proudly like a flower.

Anson spread his hands. "Alright, I'm ready for a verbal sparring match. Just because they're veterans doesn’t mean I'm afraid of them."

As he spoke, he struck a boxing stance, even bouncing on his toes, light-footed and ready to strike.

"Haha," Scarlett laughed out loud—

In the Mystic River crew, most of them were Hollywood big names known for their bad tempers. Apart from Tim Robbins, they were all difficult to deal with.

Whether it was Sean Penn or Clint Eastwood, none were to be trifled with. If things went wrong, they’d roll up their sleeves and throw punches.

Obviously, Anson had heard about them too.

If they heard what Anson had just said, they probably wouldn’t be thrilled.

Scarlett winked at Anson. "Don’t worry, I won’t tell them."

A pause.

Ding.

Scarlett’s floor arrived. Without hesitation, she left the elevator, turned at the doorway, looked back at Anson, and winked.

Then, with a change in tone, she added, "I’ll keep it as leverage. Be careful not to mess with me."

The little devil flashed her sharp fangs, then stepped back as the elevator doors slowly closed, separating them into different spaces.

Standing in the hallway, Scarlett waited for a moment.

She half-expected Anson to reopen the elevator doors, but when she saw the elevator continue upwards, she reluctantly turned around and walked down the corridor.

What a pleasant surprise, running into Anson at Cannes.

Recalling the brief playful exchange, a smile once again tugged at her lips, and her steps became lighter. She knew Cannes was going to be interesting.

Inside the elevator, a similar faint smile curved Anson’s lips.

Mystic River was excellent. Anson personally loved this sad and hopeless film, with its pervasive blue tone that lingered long after the credits rolled.

However, Anson had meant what he said.

After becoming accustomed to Hollywood’s industrial model, the greatest charm of a film festival lies in the wild, independent growth of films that break away from the Hollywood system. Not only European films, but works from all over the world, including those from economically disadvantaged regions, can broaden one’s horizons.

This is what makes film festivals truly exciting and worth anticipating.

Ding.

The elevator arrived. Stepping out, the atmosphere immediately felt different.

Usually, hotel design aims for consistency, with each floor and room following a similar theme. But here, the silk-draped walls of the corridor made the difference obvious, as if stepping into another world.

Examining the surroundings closely, it felt like entering a rabbit hole.

Anson guessed that Dior likely redecorates every year.

Though the Cannes Film Festival lasts just ten short days, Dior uses the grand Barrière Hotel as a stage, like an exhibition hall, to showcase its fashion concepts for each year and season.

From a promotional and brand image perspective, it's absolutely worth it.

Walking down the corridor, Anson took his time, admiring the décor. His opinion of Dior had definitely risen.

A decade later, Dior, trying to stay relevant with the younger generation, made a series of poor choices in spokespersons, causing severe brand identity issues. It was a disaster.

But right now, Dior was at the forefront of fashion. Whether it was boldly pioneering the men's fashion market or crafting a long-term vision, it was a leader among luxury brands.

Once again, this proved that a visionary leader can completely transform a company. Likewise, a poor leader can ruin decades of work in just a year.

When had Hedi Slimane left Dior, again?

Knock knock.

Anson knocked on the door, not waiting long before light spilled into the hallway.

Standing in front of him was the thin, pale, and nervous-looking Hedi.

Still, seeing Anson, Hedi allowed a rare smile. "Anson, you’re here."

Anson gave him a hug. "I’m not late, am I?"

Hedi shook his head, sizing Anson up. His casual and carefree look was even more relaxed and bright than he remembered, like a breeze passing through a canyon—impossible to catch.

"If you keep wandering like this, you'll truly become a wandering minstrel."

Hedi didn’t like Anson’s plan—

Street performances? If you’re preparing for a music show, just hold a concert. The randomness, uncertainty, and freedom of street performances seemed chaotic and disorganized to Hedi.

One or two performances might be fine, but wandering and performing all along the way? What kind of nonsense was that?

Hedi couldn’t understand or agree.

In his mind, this should end as soon as possible. "Otherwise, how can I go to a concert and support my friend?"

But Anson remained at ease. "Isn’t that a good thing?"

Hedi looked at Anson helplessly, firmly replying, "No."

"Hahaha." Hedi’s certainty made Anson laugh heartily.

Hedi rolled his eyes at Anson, knowing he couldn’t stop him. All he could do was give his blessing.

Taking a deep breath, Hedi got to the point. "Let’s talk business—the suit has a problem."

*Chapter 880: Shocking Revelation*

Straight to the point.

The moment Eddie opened his mouth, he dropped a bombshell, and the air froze briefly.

Anson looked up at Eddie and immediately realized that this was no joke.

But Anson didn’t panic. Quite the opposite—he seemed remarkably relaxed. "Alright, what’s wrong with the tuxedo?"

Eddie caught the teasing in Anson’s tone and gave him a helpless look.

Anson’s face lit up with interest. "If I’m not mistaken, the men are all supposed to wear tuxedos, right? So, someone broke the rules?"

Seeing that Anson was still in the mood for jokes, Eddie sighed. "Anson, you know this Cannes Film Festival is different."

Usually, when there’s an issue with an outfit at an award show or a film festival—whether it’s a wardrobe clash, a styling mistake, or something else—it’s already a headache. Such problems can easily snowball into bigger ones if not handled carefully. It’s far from just an outfit issue.

What’s more, Eddie was fully aware of Edgar and Eve’s plans and had been giving his all, using Anson as inspiration to create the latest season’s designs.

More than anyone, Eddie wanted Anson to become a fashion icon. After all, Anson was the soul of Dior’s menswear line.

In the future, whenever Anson appeared, people would think of Dior; whenever Anson stepped out, the spirit and image of Dior would come to mind. That, for a fashion designer, was the pinnacle of success—far more significant than any single design.

Eddie had been eagerly anticipating the moment Anson would walk the Cannes red carpet, dreaming of witnessing it firsthand.

Then, the unexpected happened.

Eddie was both frustrated and angry. Ever since he heard the news that morning, he’d been restless, like a cat on a hot tin roof.

And Anson?

Anson noticed Eddie’s anxiety, raised his hands in surrender, and stopped joking. "Alright, what’s the problem?"

Eddie took a deep breath and revealed the answer directly. "Monica Bellucci. She’s also going to wear a moon-white evening gown to the opening ceremony."

Anson blinked. "Also Dior?"

Eddie paused, then nodded heavily. "That’s the issue. It’s also Dior."

Anson’s eyebrows lifted slightly. "Oh, I didn’t expect that. Should I feel honored to be outfit twins with Monica Bellucci?"

Eddie froze for a second as Anson’s words sank in, and then he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

But Eddie quickly got serious again. "Anson, this is a big problem."

It really was.

There were two key points here.

First, Monica Bellucci.

Every year, the Cannes Film Festival invites a host for the opening ceremony. This host doesn’t actually run the event and isn’t involved with the jury but serves more as the festival’s ambassador, representing its image.

In 2001, it was Charlotte Rampling; in 2002, it was Virginie Ledoyen.

And this year, it was Monica Bellucci, a significant choice.

When Monica Bellucci steps onto the red carpet, she represents the festival itself. No one wants to steal her spotlight.

Second, the moon-white evening gown.

Many people mistakenly think moon-white is just white, but it’s actually a pale blue—a shade that floats between white and blue, exuding an air of cool elegance with a distinct, understated flair.

On the red carpet, outfit clashes happen frequently. After all, classic colors remain timeless. Design, styling, and overall look often matter more than color. But a unique choice like moon-white is rare.

Eddie had selected moon-white from the start, aiming to stand out.

First, men rarely choose all-white suits because it’s hard to pull off without looking like a sleazy middle-aged magician.

Second, men rarely go for light-colored suits as they can come off as frivolous and fail to stand out, often getting overshadowed by the women.

However, Eddie had taken a different approach, hoping Anson would make a bold statement.

Moon-white was a carefully chosen color, one that Eddie had painstakingly deliberated over, aiming to capture Anson’s regal and aloof demeanor, showcasing the "other side" of a vampire—distinct from the dark allure typically associated with the genre.

And now?

It was a complete disaster.

This unexpected news had stunned Eddie, making him feel as if all his meticulous planning had been washed away.

Some onlookers might wonder—what’s the big deal? Anson and Monica are two different people: one’s a man, the other’s a woman. One’s in a suit, the other’s in a gown. Even if the colors clash, it shouldn’t matter, right?

But they’re missing one key detail:

Anson’s appearance at Cannes isn’t just any appearance. Remember?

If Anson were merely attending a film premiere, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But this time, Anson had an important role at the festival, making the color clash a much bigger issue.

Also!

Even if Anson didn’t mind the clash, Monica certainly would.

As the opening ceremony’s host, Monica would want to seize this opportunity to be the festival’s undisputed center of attention.

Monica absolutely wouldn’t want to share the media spotlight with anyone else, especially if that person happened to be more glamorous and eye-catching than her.

And so, things were serious.

Just as Eddie said, this problem was bigger than he’d imagined.

"Alright." Anson shrugged lightly. "I’ll call Edgar and have him contact Monica’s agent to see if there’s any way to resolve this."

Eddie exhaled a long breath. "Anson, it’s not that simple."

Anson smirked. "That’s because you don’t know how persuasive Edgar can be."

Eddie shook his head. "Cannes also wants you to cooperate with Monica."

He hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted. "And so does Dior."

Despite the difficulty, Eddie finally got it out, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Monica just signed with Dior to represent their cosmetics line."

So that’s why.

On one hand, Anson had ended his sponsorship deal with Dior at the end of last year.

On the other hand, Monica had just become a new partner for Dior—not in their fashion division, but still, she had chosen to wear Dior at Cannes. As an official festival sponsor, Dior welcomed the choice with open arms.

It was obvious whose side Dior would take.

This was what frustrated Eddie the most.

"Anson…"

"I told them how important you are to Dior’s menswear."

"I also told them that since you’re no longer their ambassador but are still choosing to wear Dior at Cannes, it’s a better promotional strategy. It’s not just you; it’s crucial for Dior, too."

"But…"

Seeing Eddie’s frustration, Anson actually looked calm and collected, even smiling. He gently finished Eddie’s sentence for him.

"But I’m not their partner anymore. Besides, Dior has already squeezed out all the value they could from me. There’s no reason for them to offend their current partner over me."

"Eddie, this is business, not art."