271-275

Chapter 271: A Very Challenging Woman

**Knock, knock, knock!**

In the afternoon, at the Kelly Estate, the study door was knocked.

"Mr. Kelly, the Rio Filmmakers' Club has sent an invitation!"

The housekeeper, Mrs. Barbara, walked in, put down the invitation, and left.

Mrs. Barbara, in her forties, had Native American and African heritage. After professional training, she had been managing the estate for six months, keeping everything in excellent order.

"Another one!"

Luca picked up the invitation, glanced at it, and placed it in a box.

After being back for two days, he and Kate had received fourteen invitations to parties and gatherings.

These invitations included ones from the National Book Association, the Brazilian Filmmakers' Association, the Rio Chamber of Commerce, charity associations, several banking clubs, and even from government departments like the Ministry of Culture, Ministry of Commerce, and Ministry of Environment.

And those were just the formal invites.

There were even more informal ones.

If they accepted all of them, they wouldn’t have a free day until Christmas.

Luca only planned to attend a few important ones.

Setting aside the invitations, he left the study.

It was past four in the afternoon, but the sun was still blazing. The blue sky and white clouds overhead framed the landscape. Being close to the sea, the air was humid and warm under the heat, and the lush broadleaf trees in the yard shone green and vibrant.

*Slap!*

A mosquito the size of a pinky finger met its end on Luca’s shoulder, leaving a bloody mess.

Brazil’s high vegetation coverage supports a wide variety of small creatures living among the trees—mosquitoes, spiders, ants, and more. Each one seemed scarier than the ones elsewhere.

*Ding-ling!*

His phone buzzed with a text message.

After reading it, Luca said goodbye and left the estate.

"Mr. Kelly, where to?" his driver-bodyguard asked, waiting by the car at the entrance.

"To the Little Café."

"Yes, sir!"

Kate's Little Café was on Atlantic Avenue.

This bustling commercial street, not far from Ipanema Beach, drew millions of tourists annually, bringing significant income. In recent years, many flagship luxury brand stores had opened there, adding to the street's vibrant atmosphere.

‘Kate’s Little Café’ was a small, elegant establishment on that very street.

The café wasn’t large, but it was sophisticated and charming. The sign displayed the name in both Portuguese and English: 'Kate’s Little Café.'

Inside, there were only two waitresses, with Regina as the manager.

In the afternoon, there weren’t many customers—two couples and a solo visitor with a dog.

Gina sat behind the counter watching the popular Brazilian soap opera *Friends*. It was in Portuguese, a language Gina struggled to understand, so Regina sat beside her explaining and laughing as she did, leaving Gina completely confused.

"Luca’s here. Want some coffee?" Regina called out.

"No, thanks. Is Kate upstairs?"

"Yes, and Miss Ambrosio is with her."

Luca nodded and headed upstairs.

Upstairs, there was a small office where Kate would sometimes handle her work.

**“Hahaha~”**

As he reached the second floor, laughter came from the office.

"That bastard cheated again! I’m going to break up with him, for good this time. I even had a hammer, ready to break his legs! But when I tried, he ran off terrified. What a coward!" Ambrosio’s voice filled the air between her laughter and ranting.

Luca raised an eyebrow, recalling the young man who had switched parking spaces, Jamie Marzoo.

"Anan, are you breaking up with him again?" Luca asked with a smile as he entered the room.

"Yes, this time it’s for real."

Ambrosio confirmed firmly.

"You’ve said that in front of me at least six times, and it’s never been true," Kate chuckled softly.

"This time it’s definitely real." Ambrosio slapped the couch beside her. "Last time, I told him he could cheat if he was willing to have his legs broken, and I would forgive him."

"I heard you two made up after that. Did you really break his legs?" Luca asked, curious.

Ambrosio shook her head. "Damn it, I should have. If I had known he’d cheat again, I would have done it then."

She regretted it now.

Last time, Jamie had cheated, and she had given him the condition that she would only forgive him if he agreed to have his legs broken.

Jamie had agreed sincerely, even buying a small gold hammer encrusted with diamonds, telling her she could use it to break his legs. He even promised that if he ever cheated again, she could use that very hammer to do it.

Seeing his sincerity, Ambrosio had just scared him a bit and then forgave him. They reconciled as if nothing had happened.

But less than six months later, Jamie cheated again, and this time she caught him red-handed.

Once more, Jamie begged for forgiveness.

This time, Ambrosio was furious. She decided to be ruthless and brought out the little gold hammer, ready to break his legs.

But as soon as she got serious, Jamie got scared, jumped up, and ran off.

"If he hadn’t run, would you have really broken his legs?" Kate asked, amused.

"Of course!" Ambrosio said seriously. "I swung the hammer at him, but it was too small to break his legs. Still, the bastard screamed in pain and limped away. I couldn’t even catch him."

"Ha~"

Kate couldn’t help laughing.

Luca smiled softly. "Anan, didn’t you say you caught him cheating red-handed last time?"

"Yes."

"And you caught him red-handed this time too?"

"Is that a problem?"

"…"

Luca paused for a moment. "How did you catch him both times? Did you have spies on him or install surveillance cameras?"

"No."

Ambrosio frowned. "I just had a feeling, followed it, and caught him both times."

"…"

Luca raised an eyebrow. That was quite a skill—perfect infidelity detection. If every woman could do that, cheating men would have no chance.

It must be challenging being her boyfriend. Any man would be scared to death.

"Anan, you’re amazing. Do you have any tips?" Kate asked with a soft smile.

"No, it’s just a feeling."

Luca breathed a sigh of relief.

Luckily, there was no secret technique. If Lima learned that, he’d have all his bones broken.

"Luca, I heard you cheated once and had your finger broken by Lima. Didn’t you try to resist?"

Luca exchanged a glance with Kate and smiled softly.

"I made a mistake. I deserved to have my finger broken. Running away wouldn’t have earned forgiveness."

"You’ve got some nerve."

Ambrosio looked at him in surprise. "After your finger was broken, there were no more scandals, right? Did that really work?"

Luca thought for a moment and inwardly chuckled.

Since September, he had faced a lot of criticism and had kept a lower profile. There hadn’t been any new scandals since, which was a perfect coincidence.

"Yes, bone-breaking therapy works wonders. You should try it!"

Better her than me, Luca thought mischievously.

"Great, if Jamie wants to reconcile again, he’ll have to pay dearly."

Ambrosio said fiercely.

Kate shook her head with a smile. "Anan, you should make him do it himself, just in case he regrets it later and sues you for intentional harm."

"… Good point!"

Ambrosio agreed wholeheartedly.

Luca chuckled softly.

After chatting for a while longer, the three of them left the café together to attend a small party in their social circle.

Every day after that, Luca and Kate attended one or more parties or banquets and dealt with interviews with the media and reporters, keeping their days busy.

It wasn’t until a week later that things finally slowed down.

One afternoon, Luca’s agent, Camilla, called him to let him know that the script they had sent out had garnered some interest.

Two directors wanted to discuss it with him.

Luca arranged to meet them at Kate’s Little Café.

(End of Chapter)

**Chapter 272: No Matter What You Say, I’m Going for It**
**Afternoon, Atlantic Avenue.**

Luca, dressed in formal attire, stepped into Kate’s small café.

*Ding-a-ling!*

The silver bell at the door let out a crisp sound.

Two female servers spotted him and broke into eager smiles. With his good looks, wealth, and fame, what girl wouldn’t want to approach him? It’s just that Luca was always so proper, not the reckless guy the rumors painted him to be. Disappointing!

“Luca, how come you had time to stop by today?”
Regina, the manager, smiled from behind the counter.

“Regina, I’ve arranged a meeting here with Director Salles.”

“Director?”

Regina didn’t ask any more questions. “Want something to drink?”

“I’ll have an iced red tea latte.”

Luca walked to a corner of the café.

In the afternoon, there were seven or eight customers—just right. The café only had eight booths, and any more people would make the place feel crowded.

He took off his hat and sunglasses. After three seconds, he suddenly felt a lot of eyes on him. Curious, he scanned the room and found several girls sneaking glances at him, seemingly recognizing him.

Luca curved his lips into a warm, charming smile, which instantly caused three girls to approach him, with a few others looking like they wanted to join in.

The girls who came up either wanted an autograph or his contact info. One, who was pretty good-looking, directly asked him out.

Luca only gave them autographs and used the excuse of having work to get them to leave.

“Luca, you should come here more often,”
Regina smiled as she set down his drink. “Ever since you came by a few times, business has picked up a lot. There are plenty of girls who come here every day hoping you’ll show up.”

“Really?”

“For sure, Luca. You’re a heartthrob now. Could you leave some signed photos here? I could give them out as souvenirs for customers.”

“Haha, sure!”

After chatting for a bit, Regina got back to work.

Luca pulled out some documents and started reviewing them.

It was information about Director Walter Salles.

At 47 years old, from Rio de Janeiro, he directed the 1998 drama *Central Station*, which was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the 72nd Academy Awards. He had served on the juries of both the Berlin International Film Festival and the Cannes Film Festival.

A young and talented director.

Among Brazilian directors, his name was in the top three, and his skills were solid.

The only question was whether he was willing to collaborate.

At 4:30 in the afternoon, Salles finally arrived, a bit late.

When they met, there was no small talk. They jumped straight into discussing the script.

This time, Luca had borrowed a thriller called *Buried*.

The story takes place during the Iraq War this year, where a truck driver gets caught in an accident and wakes up to find himself trapped in a coffin.

He tries every possible way to escape, but nothing works.

All he has is a nearly dead cell phone.

He makes calls, hoping for rescue.

But the phone battery is running low, and the signal is weak. He has to race against time to escape underground before the phone dies.

It’s a low-budget film, with only one actor. Everything else is conveyed through sound.

The plot is brilliantly constructed, filled with suspense, constantly keeping the audience on edge. It could be seen as a different take on *Phone Booth*.

The movie had a budget of just over $2 million but grossed $20 million at the box office. The reviews were also very positive.

More importantly, this solo role was a real challenge.

Luca originally wanted to direct and star in it himself, but making a film isn’t easy.

Film is an art form.

Art is delicate work.

No one can fully recreate every detail with just simple equipment, a script, and the images in their mind.

Even the same director, filming the same movie at different times, wouldn’t necessarily do it the same way, let alone an imitation.

Directing and acting at the same time would be too difficult.

He wanted to find a director who could guide and push the actor.

Making money was one thing, but improving his acting was another.

“Mr. Kelly, did you write this script?”
Walter Salles seemed surprised.

“Yes! And this isn’t my first screenplay.”

Luca went on to explain a few scripts he was currently working on.

“Oh, Mr. Kelly, forgive me. The public only knows Ms. Kelly as a great writer. I didn’t realize you were so talented in writing too.

This script is excellent, very challenging, and very engaging. How about selling it to me?”

“Selling the script?”

Luca raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Mr. Kelly. I have a production company, and I really like this script. I’d like to buy it. Once I’ve finished my current work, I’ll direct it myself and turn it into a film.”

“Hold on, Mr. Salles.”
Luca pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry, Mr. Salles. My agent might not have made things clear. Let me say it again: I absolutely must star in this project.”

Director Salles shook his head. The agent had mentioned this when pitching the script, but Salles wasn’t convinced.

“Mr. Kelly, I’ve seen your roles. Frankly, you haven’t been an actor for very long, and your acting still needs refinement.

This script, which you wrote, you know how challenging it is to perform.

It demands that the actor possesses enough skill to convey the protagonist’s intense emotions and tension.

At the same time, the actor needs a strong presence to hold the audience’s attention. After all, there’s only one scene and one actor.

It’s a huge test for any actor. Even an Oscar winner might struggle.”

Salles spread his hands. “Mr. Kelly, I hope you’ll reconsider. It’s a great script.”

“Mr. Salles, thank you for your praise.

As you said, it’s a great script, and you’re an excellent director. If you used an outstanding actor, this project would certainly be a success.

But wouldn’t that be too easy?”

Luca paused,
“Mr. Salles, you mentioned this script is very challenging.

If we add a newcomer actor, wouldn’t that make it even more challenging and suspenseful—just like the script itself?

When the movie succeeds, people will undoubtedly praise your directing skills.

Mr. Salles, do you want to take on the challenge?”

“...”

Director Salles opened his mouth but then shook his head. “Mr. Kelly, you almost convinced me.

But making a film is already a risk. Even the best director, team, script, and actor might not create a film that’s both critically acclaimed and a box office hit.

So, before shooting, we gather all the elements for success and minimize the risk.

Since there’s a more suitable actor, why not increase the chances of success?”

“Mr. Salles,”

Luca sighed softly. “Why do you think I’m not suitable?

*Honey* was only my first film. This year alone, I’ve been involved in three films, and *Honey* was the smallest in terms of investment and screen time.

I’m growing, and I don’t believe my acting can’t improve.”

“That’s unfortunate!”

Director Salles spread his hands. “Mr. Kelly, I don’t know how much potential you have as an actor, but I still believe this role doesn’t suit you, or at least not yet.

And I don’t think I’m alone in this opinion.”

After those words, Director Salles said goodbye and left the café.

Luca sighed, feeling a bit frustrated. Why won’t anyone give me a chance?

*Damn it!*

Just as Director Salles had said, over the next two days, three famous directors showed interest in the script but regretted his insistence on starring.

Other directors and film companies were also eager to collaborate, constantly reaching out.

But he wasn’t interested.

He, Luca *The Hotshot* Kelly, the only Brazilian actor to have made a name for himself in Hollywood.

Working with him was sure to be profitable.

He knew his value and didn’t want anyone taking advantage of him.

“If no one’s up for it, I’ll direct and star myself!”

He mulled it over.

“Stop thinking about the script. Christmas is coming. When are you going to Salvador?”
Kate tidied his messy hair, hoping he’d relax and not overthink.

“...I’ll leave tomorrow,”

Luca sighed, holding Kate’s hand. “After Christmas, I’m planning to direct my own movie. What do you think?”

“Haha, of course I support you! All the way!”
Kate cupped his face with a smile.

“Thanks! I’ll do my best.”

*Ring, ring, ring*
His phone rang—it was his agent, Camila.

“Mr. Kelly, Director Hector Babenco has invited you to São Paulo. Do you have time?”

“Director Babenco?”

Luca frowned, thinking for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. Since his return, he had taken time to learn about Brazilian directors.

The most famous were *Central Station*'s Walter Salles and *City of God*'s Fernando Meirelles, along with Carlos Diegues.

But in the industry, there was also a legend: Hector Babenco.

A man nearing 60.

In 1977, the film he directed, Lucio Flavio, caused a sensation in the film industry, drawing more than 100 million viewers and breaking box office records in Brazil and South America.

In 1980, his film Pixote won three awards at the San Sebastián International Film Festival in Spain and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

In 1986, he directed Kiss of the Spider Woman, which received four major Academy Award nominations: Best Actor, Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay.

The lead actor in the film gave such an outstanding performance that he won both the Academy Award and the Cannes Film Festival Award for Best Actor.

He also made several other films, such as Street Kids, Passion, and Blood Prison, all of which were high quality.

However, the veteran director is now old and in poor health, suffering from lymphoma and heart disease. He has been recovering for the past few years.

So, when he submitted the script this time, he didn't disturb the director during his retreat.

Unexpectedly, the director took the initiative to call and invite him for a talk.

But what could an old, sick man want to discuss?
Luca was curious.

Still, this was an opportunity. Before heading out, he watched several of Burbank's films carefully.

Gradually, he began to understand the director's style and had a sense of why the old man might be interested in him.

The next day, he postponed his trip to the Lima family and drove to São Paulo, the largest city in South America.

(End of Chapter)\

**Chapter 273: Dumbfounded**

December 16th, São Paulo, Brazil.

São Paulo is the capital of São Paulo State, the largest and most bustling city in South America. The city center is vibrant, filled with skyscrapers, and everything runs smoothly.

It's quite different from Rio de Janeiro.

In Rio, slums are located right next to affluent areas and the city center. Many prime locations are occupied by these slums, which makes it feel far from an international metropolis.

However, the man in the passenger seat, Marcio, has a different view.

"People here must be really stressed out," he remarked, glancing at the pedestrians on the street outside, a hint of disdain on his face.

Most of the people on the streets were rushing about, busy with their day.

“It’s not like Rio. In the ‘City of God,’ everything is fair. Everyone, regardless of status, can enjoy the best views and lifestyle. There’s no need to work hard to live a good life.”

“That’s why people in Rio love to hang out at the beach. Who wouldn’t want to just sunbathe and admire beautiful women every day? Why be so busy? I just don’t get it.”

“What do you think, Luca?” Marcio turned his head to ask.

“They’re all doing something meaningful,” Luca replied calmly.

“Meaningful? Like what?”

“Building a better society for humanity.”

“Bullshit! They’re just making money.”

“And what’s wrong with making money? Money is a man’s pride and strength.”

“But I live just fine without it. You get rich, and then you worry about being robbed, have to hire bodyguards. What’s the point?”

Luca didn’t bother replying further.

Arriving at the entrance of Lobos Sanatorium, he adjusted his clothes, said a quick word to the driver, and stepped out of the car.

“Luca, I’m not going in. I want to explore the area a bit!” Marcio shouted.

“OK! Come back early. If you’re late, we won’t wait for you.”

Waving him off, Luca, carrying a fruit basket, walked through the sanatorium’s gates.

The sanatorium was located in the northwest of São Paulo, surrounded by mountains, water, and forests. It had a zoo and botanical garden nearby, making the area picturesque and pleasant in terms of climate.

“Mr. Kelly, Mr. Babank is still playing soccer. Please wait a moment while I notify him,” Babank’s assistant said outside the sports field.

“No need to call him. I can wait.”

Luca crossed his arms and watched the game from the sidelines.

On the lush green soccer field, a group of elderly men and some young boys were playing an intense game, with many relaxed spectators around.

The older men showed great skill, using their experience to pass, stop, and intercept the ball, leaving the younger boys struggling to keep up.

Bang! Suddenly, the ball flew towards Luca.

With a quick turn, Luca executed a “lion’s tail” move, smoothly passing the ball back.

“Hey, Luca! Want to play? These youngsters need a captain,” a bald man in a yellow vest shouted loudly.

The midday sun reflected off his bald head.

Luca squinted and realized it was director Babank, with his high nose and small eyes.

“Sure!” Luca replied.

He took off his jacket and pants, joining the kids’ team.

“Let me introduce you all. This is Luca, former main striker of the national youth team, who even made it to the national squad as a backup. He scored a crucial goal in the Youth World Cup.”

“Babank, no need to introduce him. I know who he is. Luca, right? One of the most promising young players in the country.”

“Ha, I know him too! I heard he was really fast before his injury, with sharp footwork. But speed won’t help you here with us old-timers!”

“Luca, show us your skills and let’s see what the new generation can do!”

The older men bantered loudly.

“Sure!” Luca smiled, unfazed.

After warming up, he jogged onto the field, gathered the kids together, and discussed tactics. Most of them recognized him and were happy to follow his lead.

Soon, the game resumed.

The kids, eager to see his abilities, passed the ball directly to him. Wasting no time, he took a shot.

Bang! A high, curving ball smashed into the net.

Goal!

The kids erupted in excitement.

The older men didn’t seem to care, assuming it was just a friendly gesture for the first goal.

But soon after, the ball landed at Luca’s feet again. With no one marking him, he took another long shot.

Goal, again!

The kids cheered even louder.

Now the older men took the game seriously, with three of them teaming up to defend against him.

But Luca wasn’t about to give them a chance. Every time he got the ball, he launched a fast attack. Compared to his speed, the old men moved like snails.

Bang, bang, bang!

They could only watch as he scored goal after goal.

Half an hour later, the game ended.

Luca had scored nine goals with four assists.

The final score was 15-2, with the kids’ team securing a massive victory over the experienced old-timers.

The kids swarmed around him, cheering in excitement.

Even the spectators on the sidelines clapped and shouted in approval.

The older men wiped their sweat and stretched their backs, dispersing soon after.

“The players these days have no sportsmanship. Going so hard against us old folks!” Babank grumbled, walking over, panting heavily, his face dark.

“Director Babank, I’m a professional player. Respecting the opponent is my sportsmanship. I don’t play to lose,” Luca replied with a light smile.

Babank smirked, “I heard you had a serious back injury?”

“It’s healed.”

“Well, if you’ve recovered, why not return to the professional league? With your speed and skill, you’re at a top-tier level. Have you considered coming back?”

Babank asked as they walked.

“No, I used to play for a stable job and income. Now, I’m doing well in the U.S. and don’t have any ambition left for football.”

“What a waste!” Babank snorted. “Your generation is physically and technically superior to us older players, but your passion for football can’t compare to ours.”

“The world’s getting better and better. There’s more to love now—movies, music, video games.”

“Heh,” Babank chuckled as he reclined on a beach chair. “There’s a rumor going around in the industry. A kid just back from the U.S. is pushing a great script, seeking big-name directors, asking for nothing but the lead role. Is that passion?”

“Isn’t it?” Luca shrugged.

Babank smirked again, “But you’ve made one mistake.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You’ve offended a lot of people.”

“Really?”

Luca was puzzled.

“Yeah,” Babank said, handing him a cigar. “Word is, several of the most famous directors in the industry received your script, right?”

“Yeah,” Luca nodded.

“So how did you categorize the directors? Box office numbers? Fame? Or their work?”

Babank sneered. “Some of these directors are all hype, but you gave them your script. Others, who are low-key but highly skilled, didn’t get a copy.”

“Now, directors in the industry are divided into two camps because of your script, and there’s chaos. You knew that, right?”

Luca stood there, dumbfounded. Was it really that serious?

---

(End of the chapter)

**Chapter 274: No Matter What, You Have to Keep Going**

Luca was dumbfounded. "Is it really that serious?"

"Mr. Babank, I was too reckless on this matter."

He thought for a moment and said, "Initially, my idea was to hand the script directly to you, Mr. Babank. You're the person I most want to collaborate with. But I heard you were recovering, so I had no choice but to hand the script to your assistant to arrange, asking them to send it to some well-known domestic directors. I didn’t specify who, though."

"Oh, you wanted to work with me from the start?"

Babank, with a cigar in hand, looked at him curiously. "Tell me why."

Luca composed himself and slowly said, "Mr. Babank, I finished writing the script for *Buried Alive* while I was in the U.S. It was initially meant to be filmed there. But at the time, my new movie had just been released, and I faced a lot of criticism. American directors and film companies didn’t think much of me, and it was tough to find a skilled director to collaborate with. So, I turned my attention to domestic directors."

"I watched many of your films, comparing them over and over, and ultimately, I felt you were the most suitable. Your films like *Street Kid*, *Kiss of the Spider Woman*, and *Blood Prison* all take place in confined spaces like prisons. You use prisons as metaphors for inescapable situations, depicting extreme human conditions. In such small spaces, people temporarily lose their freedom, and most of their activities are heavily restricted and suppressed. They are forced to muster all their courage to struggle for survival."

As he spoke, he recalled his previous understanding of films and his reflections from watching Babank’s movies the day before, expressing his carefully considered thoughts.

Babank was born in Argentina. In the 1970s, influenced by the Brazilian New Cinema movement, he moved to Brazil and became a Brazilian citizen. During that time, many countries worldwide were going through political crises, including Brazil. Under the strict control of the military government, Brazilian society was stifled, in a state of limited or no freedom—what writers referred to as a "suffocating state."

Directors who grew up in such conditions often had a twisted outlook. They liked exploring how individuals or groups behaved under extreme conditions, delving into human nature, animal instincts, and social structures. Babank was a prime example of this type of director.

In his films, actors were like test subjects placed in a confined space, stripped of their freedom, and observed for their reactions. Everything felt oppressive and distorted. Directors like him could be called “pressure cooker directors.”

*Buried Alive* shared many similarities with his films. The oppressive atmosphere in a small space, the human struggle, hope intermingled with despair. But in *Buried Alive*, the space was even smaller—a seven-foot coffin—and there was only one character to observe.

Such a script would be a challenge but also a tempting lure for directors like Babank.

As Luca continued, he suddenly realized he didn’t need to be so cautious. The script was his, after all. Now it wasn’t about him seeking collaboration but rather them wanting to collaborate with him. The one who should be cautious was Babank, or perhaps other pressure cooker directors watching from the sidelines. This script scratched their itch—would they easily give it up?

"I’ve watched your films, Mr. Babank, and I can feel the same sense of oppression and struggle that’s in *Buried Alive*. That’s why I want to work with you. What do you think of the script? Are you interested in directing this project?"

He stared at the old man’s bald head as he asked.

"The script?" The old man puffed out a smoke ring, looking unimpressed. "It’s just okay."

Luca raised an eyebrow. "You’re not interested, Mr. Babank?"

"A little bit," the old man replied. "I haven’t had much to do lately and was planning to shoot a new movie. I just hadn’t found a good script. Yours is okay, I’m a little interested. But why are you so set on being the lead actor?"

"I’ve seen your movies, and to be honest, you’re just average. This role is extremely challenging, and I don’t think you can handle it. Hey, hey, where are you going?"

The old man noticed him getting up to leave mid-conversation. "What’s the rush? I’m not done talking."

Luca shook his head. "Mr. Babank, I understand what you’re trying to say. You’re trying to convince me to give up. But I’m determined about this role. No matter how you try to persuade me, I’m playing this part."

"Take care, Mr. Babank. Goodbye."

"Wait!" The old man stubbed out his half-smoked cigar and quickly grabbed Luca’s arm, moving faster than you’d expect from someone battling cancer.

"Why are young people always in such a hurry?" he grumbled. "You’ve got decades ahead of you. Why can’t you just let me finish?"

"Sorry, Mr. Babank, but my condition is non-negotiable—I have to be the lead. If that can’t be met, there’s nothing more to discuss," Luca said firmly.

"You little punk..." Babank gave him a stern look and sighed. "Can you tell me why you’re so insistent on being the lead?"

"To become a better actor."

Luca thought for a moment and replied, "Mr. Babank, if you’ve been keeping up with Hollywood news, you’d know I’ve been facing a lot of criticism recently. Many say I’m not a good actor. I know my weaknesses, and that’s why I’m determined to improve. That’s my goal."

The old man nodded. "So you want to hone your skills here and then take on Hollywood again."

"Yes. Hollywood is a global stage. Actors dream of making it there, just like soccer players dream of the World Cup. I’m no different."

"You need a coach, then?" Babank grinned as he touched his bald head.

"Exactly. Would you be willing to be that coach, Mr. Babank?"

Luca asked.

"Heh..." Babank thought for a moment. "Alright, I’ll agree to let you play the lead."

"Really?" Luca was excited, feeling relieved. With a tough director like Babank on board, half the battle was won.

"But I have one condition."

"What condition?" Luca frowned.

"I have doubts about your acting skills. I’ll agree to work with you for now, and I’ll do my best to guide you during filming. But if you still don’t meet my standards, I’ll have no choice but to replace you. It must be written into the contract. Can you agree to that?" Babank said sternly.

Luca frowned. If this old man gave him random feedback and then kicked him off the project with a flimsy excuse, wouldn’t it all be for nothing?

"I know what you’re thinking," Babank said with a snort. "Don’t worry, I won’t kick you out. In my crew, I never replace anyone who’s willing to work hard. I always give opportunities. But acting depends largely on talent, discipline, self-awareness, and sacrifice. Some people can’t handle it and quit on their own. Will you be the next one to quit? The only actor in the film?"

Luca shook his head and extended his right hand.

"Deal."

"Are you sure?" Babank’s greenish eyes sparkled with twisted amusement as he grinned at Luca.

Luca had a bad feeling. Was the pressure going to be too much?

"Yes, I’m sure!" Luca thought, *We’re all a little crazy here. If we’re going to go wild, why should I be scared?*

"Great!" The old man chuckled and turned to his assistant. "Call Rodrigo Santoro. Tell him to be ready. If Luca quits, he’s up."

What? They already had a backup?

Luca knew Rodrigo Santoro—a handsome Brazilian actor. If Luca hadn’t acted fast, Santoro would probably be Brazil’s top heartthrob. Plus, Santoro had played the third lead in Babank’s *Blood Prison*, making him a perfect fit for *Buried Alive*.

So Babank wasn’t joking around. Luca instantly felt the weight of the pressure.

Is this what makes "pressure cooker directors" so twisted?

They haven’t even started filming, and he’s already feeling suffocated.

But since the collaboration was set, no matter what, he would see it through.

Back at the office, they started discussing the project in detail. With both of them on board, there was no need to worry about funding. Neither was short on money. But as they talked about the filming process, hearing about the old man’s methods made Luca break out in a cold sweat.

Would anyone still be normal after going through such a twisted process?

"Luca, it’s not too late to back out now."

"No. I chose this path, and I’ll see it through, even if I have to crawl."

"Good. I love tough guys," Babank chuckled darkly.


(End of Chapter)


Chapter 275: Hold on Tight, I Drive Fast

Not long after the meeting, Director Babank’s studio quickly came up with the budget for *Buried Alive*—8 million reais, about 2.2 million U.S. dollars. It was a small-budget film, costing very little.

Luca didn’t mind the money. He offered to fund it fully and pay Babank to direct.

But Babank didn’t agree.

He was a tough director.

In all his films, he worked as the director, producer, and investor. This gave him full control over the crew, allowing him to make the movie however he liked, so he wouldn’t budge on the investment.

Luca didn’t want to lose the film rights either.

After several rounds of talks, both took a step back. They agreed to split the investment and film rights 50-50.

“Looking forward to working together!”

In the café, Luca stretched out his hand and smiled.

The bald Babank shook it but didn’t seem too happy, saying, “Just so you know, if you don’t do well, I’ll replace you. Being an investor doesn’t give you special treatment.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Babank. If I’m not satisfied with my own performance, I’ll step down myself.”

“Good!”

Babank gave the couch a pat and stood up.

“We start filming next month. I hope you’ll be ready.”

“I will be.”

After seeing Babank off, Luca left the café too, strolling down the street, thinking about the film.

*Buried Alive* was a one-person show with a lot of inner drama. In the 90-minute film, there were no co-actors, not many props, and very few lines. Most scenes would rely on facial expressions and language to express emotions.

This kind of acting was tough and hard to pull off.

How should he do it?

Ring~ Ring~

His phone rang.

“Luca, are you there yet?”

It was Lima on the other end.

There yet? Luca paused.

Suddenly, he remembered. A few days ago, he had promised to visit Lima at her house. But because of the film, he kept putting it off.

This morning, he had said he’d head to Salvador, but Babank’s visit messed up his plan. He hadn’t even left yet.

Oh no.

“Sweetheart, I’m leaving right now! I’ll be there this afternoon!”

He quickly hung up, rushed home, changed into a sharp suit, and hurried to the airport.

Salvador is on the east coast of Brazil’s northeast, about 1,500 kilometers from Rio. The most convenient way to get there was by a small plane called the “airbus,” flying at around 600 kilometers per hour.

By his estimate, he’d reach Salvador in about three hours.

But he forgot one thing.

The airbus, like a regular bus on the ground, stops at several cities along the way to pick up passengers. Each stop takes about half an hour.

By the time he reached Salvador, it was almost dark.

“Sigh, what a miscalculation,” Luca thought to himself as he carefully dialed Lima’s number.

“Hey, um, sweetie, I’m here. Where are you? Should I meet you at the airport?”

Feeling guilty, Luca walked to the airport entrance.

The view outside caught him by surprise.

Both sides of the road were lined with green bamboo.

In the sunset, the bamboo swayed in the breeze, the green leaves fluttering like waves—a picture-perfect scene.

He blinked in surprise. This was the airport? It looked like a beautiful landscape straight out of Fairy Tale. The poetic beauty charmed him instantly.

“Luca, over here!”

Near the bamboo grove, a Harley Davidson bike was parked by the roadside. A girl in a tank top and shorts, with dreadlocks, took off her sunglasses and waved coolly.

“Lima?”

That cool girl was actually Lima.

Luca blinked in shock. He didn’t recognize her at first glance. Lima had always been cool, but not *this* cool.

“What’s wrong? Don’t know me anymore?”

Lima walked over, hands in her pockets. After nearly a month apart, her honey-colored skin had deepened a bit, making her look even sweeter, and she seemed even more... well, stunning.

“Sweetheart, you look amazing!” Luca hugged her lightly.

“Haha, you don’t look so great yourself.”

Lima tugged at his tie and laughed. “Why’d you show up in a suit? Let me guess, Kate wasn’t home when you left, was she?”

“Uh, how’d you know? Is something wrong with the suit?”

“Aren’t you hot?”

“No worries, I can handle it.”

Luca brushed it off.

Lima chuckled. “Hop on the bike. If I knew you’d show up in a suit, I’d have brought a car.”

“No problem. Want me to drive?”

“Next time. The roads in Salvador are tricky. You’ll see.”

“Alright then.”

Luca hopped on the back and wrapped his arms around Lima’s waist—slender but strong, with a fresh, clean scent.

“Hold on tight. I drive fast.”

Lima revved the engine, and the motorcycle roared off.

Salvador’s airport was in the suburbs.

After they passed the airport road, the coastline stretched out along the way.

In the evening light, the Santos Bay was glowing in the sunset. People were still on the beach, strolling, playing soccer, and watching the sun go down.

The colorful sky, rows of coconut trees, the vibrant beach umbrellas and lounge chairs, and flocks of seabirds flying over the waves—it was all peaceful and picturesque.

Salvador wasn’t as lively as Rio or as modern as São Paulo, but its seaside views were just as beautiful, and the city was quite pleasant to live in.

As the motorcycle entered the city, this feeling grew stronger.

Salvador is the capital of Bahia state, Brazil’s third-largest city, and the country’s first capital from 1549 to 1763 before the capital moved to Rio. It was Brazil’s first developed city.

The city’s builders were Portuguese colonists, and its architecture is steeped in Bahia culture, with traces of African influence from the early days of slavery.

The city is filled with old buildings—thousands of them.

There are sleek, tall Gothic-style churches, luxurious Baroque churches with flowing lines, and many palatial buildings, most of which are well-preserved.

Walking through the city feels like stepping back in time, into a medieval town.

The narrow streets are paved with stone, like the small lanes of old towns in southern.

“How do you like it? Pretty, huh?”

Lima shouted over the wind.

“Yes, it’s beautiful. This city is like a huge art museum, with art everywhere.”

“Haha, want to live here?”

“...”

Luca thought for a moment. “It’s a little quiet. Maybe it’d be a great place to retire.”

Lima laughed loudly. “This is the Old Town for tourists. The new part of the city is different.”

She sped up, the bike zipping down a slope, and soon they were in the New City.

It was indeed different—wide roads, tall buildings, and busy streets. The level of modernization jumped up a notch.

With Christmas coming, the streets were full of bright colors—red Santa Claus figures and Christmas trees decked out with ornaments.

On the sidewalks, many young men and women wore bright, lace-trimmed Bahia outfits in vibrant colors—yellow, blue, green, red—just like the traditional clothes of ethnic minorities, but with bolder, more striking colors.

As they walked, the young people laughed and chatted. Some even danced. And they weren’t the only ones—there were more colorful figures on other streets too.

“What are they doing?” Luca asked curiously.

“It’s a street dance party. Every year, a few days before Christmas, people gather in the squares to dance. It gets pretty lively. Want to check it out later?”

“Sure!”

Luca loved being part of the action.

“We’re here!”

After about half an hour of riding, they stopped in front of a modern apartment building.

This was Lima’s city home.

Her real house was 70 kilometers away in a small port town called Praia. The two planned to stay in the city for a day, first visiting her grandmother in the hospital, then heading to the port town to meet Lima’s family.

“Go take a shower.”

Back at the apartment, Lima helped him out of his jacket. “Your shirt’s all soaked with sweat.”

“But I didn’t bring any clothes.”

He had packed in such a hurry that he hadn’t brought anything.

“No problem, you can wear mine.”

“Are you serious?”

“Haha, just kidding. I bought a few matching outfits recently. Want to try?”

“Of course!”

Luca happily headed for the shower.

Lima smiled, heading to the bedroom to find the clothes.

“Sweetheart, where’s the body wash?”

A little while later, Luca stuck his head out of the bathroom and called out.

“It’s on the shelf—the red bottle.”

“There’s no red bottle!”

“Really?”

Puzzled, Lima walked over, but as she reached the door, Luca pulled her into his arms.

“You jerk, what are you doing?”

“Let’s shower together.”

The door slammed shut.

(End of chapter)