571-575

Chapter 571: A Disaster

Eric: …

Mackye: …

The two exchanged glances, their smiles frozen in place, bodies unable to move, as if time had come to a standstill. They even forgot to blink.

In movies or novels, seeing such a scenario often made them roll their eyes. Not again! Another cliché coincidence—it's so old-fashioned. Can't we have something different?

But people often forget that art imitates life. Precisely because in real life, talking behind someone's back often gets you caught, these coincidences repeatedly appear in artistic creations.

Moreover, without such coincidences, how would art create conflict?

However, when you encounter such situations in real life, the awkwardness can make you cringe from head to toe.

Beside them, the voice continued.

"Or, I could just pretend I didn't hear anything, that nothing happened."

After saying this, the person turned to leave.

He… just… left like that…

Mackye's entire left shoulder was frozen and numb, his brain not processing, staring blankly at Eric. "Did he… leave?"

Eric snapped out of his daze, looking panicked. "What do we do now? Oh God, Mackye, we messed up this meeting too."

Mackye took a deep breath, feeling embarrassed and angry. "What a prima donna! I didn’t say anything that bad, and he just turned and left. Who’s he showing attitude to? What’s he trying to prove? That he’s better than us, that we need to beg him? He’s just… Eric, are you having a muscle spasm?"

Halfway through his rant, Mackye noticed Eric was winking desperately. His words cut off, and after a brief delay, he realized what was happening. His throat itched.

"He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

Eric nodded slightly, looking like he'd seen a T-Rex.

Mackye closed his eyes in despair.

He clenched his teeth and braced himself.

Mackye turned around, "Anson, sorry…"

Again, he couldn’t finish the sentence—

Today's meeting was a disaster, with one unexpected event after another. Everything had become chaotic, all communication fragmented, words were torn into countless pieces, and any attempt to speak led to more confusion.

This time, it was because of the person standing before him:

Was this really Anson?

He wore a simple light blue striped linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark gray cargo pants and white canvas shoes—about as simple as it gets. But dried paint on his shirt and pants gave him a somewhat rugged and carefree look.

His light brown hair, just long enough to cover his ears, grew wildly and freely, exuding a raw and casual charm, giving off an unpolished sex appeal.

Clearly, this was a far cry from the Anson people remembered.

If someone said he was an eccentric artist, it wouldn’t be questioned at all.

Was this really the Anson Wood who had shot to the top of Hollywood's pyramid with "Spider-Man"? They had never heard Anson was into painting.

But painting wasn't the main point. The real focus was his aura: reserved and low-key, free-spirited yet unruly, lacking the arrogance and aggressiveness of someone who achieved success early, and missing the superiority and condescension often seen in those at the top. He had a simple, pure artist's vibe that was refreshing and eye-catching.

Honestly, it was hard to believe this was Anson Wood.

Not just Mackye, even Eric had his mouth slightly open, entirely losing his ability to react.

Before they could say anything, Anson took the lead.

Anson smiled. "No, there’s no need. You’re right; I’m just an ordinary person like you, and Area 51 probably wouldn’t be interested in me."

"Also, I’m sorry to disappoint, but my wrists don’t shoot spider webs."

Pfft.

Eric couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Anson looked over, extending his right hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Wood, Anson Wood. So, this must be Eric?"

Eric Bress had short hair and a round face with noticeably chubby cheeks, round eyes, a round nose, and round cheekbones, but his pockmarked skin seemed poorly cared for.

He gave off a “butcher” vibe. If he stood in a supermarket’s meat section cutting meat and chopping bones, there’d be no sense of incongruity. But his eyes were exceptionally clear, leaving a gentle impression upon first meeting.

Judging by his appearance alone, it was hard to believe he wrote scripts like "Final Destination" and "The Butterfly Effect," which delve into philosophical reflections on fate and life.

Again, it proved you can't judge a book by its cover.

Eric absentmindedly shook Anson’s hand, unsure of what to say, staring blankly at Anson like a fanboy.

Mackye understood, 100% understood.

Even though they’d been in Hollywood for nearly a decade, meeting many actors over time, they had never met a true star and didn’t know what it meant to have that star quality.

Anson, standing before them, exuded an aura that was both impactful and imposing, leaving them somewhat stunned—

It turned out people really are different.

Then, Anson turned to Mackye.

Unlike Eric, Mackye looked like a non-mainstream nerd. He had long, light brown hair, straight and shoulder-length, seemingly ready to shoot a shampoo commercial. There was a noticeable pimple on his forehead, but his carefully groomed beard showed attention to detail.

Clearly, he cared about his appearance. Every detail was thoughtfully managed, from his deep brown suit paired with a black shirt, without a tie but accessorized with a silver necklace. He was completely different from Eric, who wore a T-shirt and jeans.

Yet, they were best friends who spent seven years completing a script without killing each other, which might be considered a miracle.

"So, this must be Jonathan. Nice to meet you," Anson said, turning his gaze.

Mackye swallowed, finally finding his voice. "Mackye."

Anson: "Hmm?"

Mackye: "I don't like the name Jonathan, so my friends call me Mackye, or J-Mack."

Anson slightly lifted his chin. "Mackye, is there a story behind the name?"

Mackye paused, as it was the first time anyone had been curious about his name. "It’s a Scottish name, originally meaning 'Son of Fire.'"

Anson: "Looks like I’ve learned something new today; that’s quite a discovery."

Anson gestured to the seats, and both Eric and Mackye nodded. He then pulled out a chair, sat down, and called the waiter to order a soda. Noticing the odd looks from across the table, he explained, "I’m shaping a new actor image, so I'll be ordering some healthy foods like salads next. See, our audition has already started."

With ease and humor.

The atmosphere lightened up immediately.

Smiles crept onto their faces, and without missing a beat, Anson kept the lead, steering the conversation to the main topic.

"So, let's discuss the character now. Why do you think I'm suitable for the role of Evan?"

### Chapter 572: Heaven and Earth Reversed

The air was somewhat still.

Clearly, Eric and Mikey did not expect Anson to take the initiative and start the conversation.

They also did not anticipate Anson's first question to be, "Why do you think I'm suitable for the role of Evan?"

Eric looked at Mikey, and Mikey looked at Eric. They thought they were fully prepared, yet they both stumbled over the first question:

To be honest, they hadn’t really considered it.

"The details and plot twists of the film are almost perfect, reflecting the painstaking effort and constant adjustments you’ve made, but in this story, Evan is still not a complete character."

This was a fresh experience.

Anson wasn't aggressive. After posing his question, he stepped back and gave them space, waiting for Mikey and Eric to respond.

"We believe you can perfectly portray the role of Evan."

Could this disaster get any worse?

"Of course, in commercial films, such motivation often isn't important; a simple 'long live love' can make any story seem reasonable. But what's different about this movie is that this love becomes the fulcrum that moves the entire world, even serving as Evan's motive to sacrifice his life. If the movie doesn't explain this clearly, it would undoubtedly be a pity."

"Naturally, you have no expectations for the actor."

The points Anson raised were the same ones Eric and Mikey had repeatedly discussed. They just hadn't expected Anson to bring them up right away.

Taking a deep breath, Mikey regained his composure.

"If he loves Keller so deeply, even to the point of burning himself like a moth to a flame, why didn’t he contact her at all in the seven years they were apart, not even once?"

Anson continued, "All the praise is about me, but there’s no description of Evan. It sounds like a bunch of clichés that could apply to any actor, regardless of who’s sitting here today, because it has nothing to do with the character."

Eric grew uneasy.

If someone were to criticize or reject them, the two would certainly defend the script without backing down, even to the point where their strong stance could stall negotiations.

"I know you’re looking for investment or perhaps seeking a name that could help you secure funding for your project. I am that name."

Mikey was stunned, "What?"

The smile on Anson's lips broadened, "Relax, relax. This isn’t a courtroom, and you’re not defendants. I’m just trying to start a conversation."

Mikey: ...

"Or, let's say, no phone calls, but there’s also no trace of her in his life."

Anson noticed this and kept smiling, "Don’t worry, I’m not angry, and this isn’t an interrogation. I’m just discussing a fact."

"Rather than the actor."

"So, I guess, it's not just any name that would work, right?"

"Have you ever considered why me?"

Moreover, when Anson posed this question, the brain started working, really thinking, but still found no answer.

A bit of affirmation showed Mikey’s sincerity. Whatever his real thoughts were, at least his attitude at this moment was flawless.

However, Anson wasn't buying it.

"You could say I’m just a gimmick, a headline."

Since both writers remained silent, Anson continued.

They knew Anson was a handsome guy and charming, but it wasn’t until they sat down face-to-face that they realized they had no real understanding.

Anson slightly lifted his chin, "So, it’s all about me, not about Evan."

"Honestly, it doesn't matter if a pretty face or a serious actor plays this role because the actor isn't the focus, right?"

They had spent seven years on this script, knew every detail inside and out, and had revised and adjusted it repeatedly. While it might not be flawless, any challenge would not escape their notice.

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Eric glanced at Mikey.

So, is Anson really suitable?

Their minds turned, and they realized they... had no answer, stuttering in a situation they never imagined.

Things were going off track.

"What if—just hypothetically, I'm not the right choice?"

"A character that moves the audience is never about coincidence or luck; your performance breathes life into the character."

"Especially when the film is so perfect and impeccable in other aspects, leaving a flaw at the origin and motive, I think it’s an important issue that deserves discussion."

Maybe they were all wrong.

However.

Mikey took another deep breath, reluctantly regaining his composure, and forced a smile, "Anson..."

"My acting career might hit a small snag, but even worse, the script you’ve worked so hard to complete goes down the drain, which is a more severe blow to you."

More importantly, Anson was sincere and gentle, without provocation or arrogance, engaging in dialogue on equal footing.

"You’re just trying to convince me to take on this project, but you still haven’t answered my question: Am I suitable for the role of Evan?"

"Let me guess, you never really considered whether the actor is suitable for the role because when you were creating this story, you focused on a setting, a concept, a gimmick, but never truly thought about the character's origin, which is the character’s motivation."

Clear, sincere.

The atmosphere was slightly tense.

"Of course. You’re perfect for this role."

"We watched 'The Princess Diaries,' we watched 'Spider-Man,' and your performance was outstanding. In the roles you played, we didn’t just see a simple high school student; we could see his thoughts about life, his pursuit of ideas, and his charm radiating from within."

"What I mean is, I don't mind being a gimmick. But the point is, if we find investors, and the film starts shooting, but if I’m not the right actor, if I’m not suitable for the role of Evan, the film won't succeed."

The words were disjointed, due to a lack of confidence.

So Anson interrupted again, not letting Mikey continue, and flashed a smile, "Heh, you’re in trouble, right?"

Unconsciously, they really started listening to what Anson had to say—

—That statement was a bit harsh.

"This is the root cause, and also the motivation."

Normally, if someone criticized their script, Mikey would have fired back long ago.

"A pretty face, an idol, is he suitable for this project?"

But now, Mikey couldn't find the words; it seemed things were out of their control from the beginning.

The Anson before them completely defied expectations with his carefree, nonchalant, and relaxed demeanor. Whether it was his hairstyle, attire, or overall presence, everything deviated from what they had anticipated, leaving their minds in disarray.

Unconsciously and silently, Eric and Mackey found themselves deep in thought, their minds racing; meanwhile, Anson took a step back and quietly composed himself.

The atmosphere had subtly shifted places.

*Chapter 573: A Seed*

Anson could have continued to press his advantage, seizing the opportunity to push his opinions and break down the two screenwriters' defenses in one fell swoop.

However, he didn’t.

Not only did he refrain, but Anson also deliberately hit the pause button, leaving space for breathing and reflection, allowing the two screenwriters to collect their thoughts.

He even politely thanked the waiter when receiving his soda. When the waiter cautiously asked, "Are you Anson?" and received a confirmation, Anson went as far as signing the waiter’s apron.

The atmosphere was quiet, friendly, with a lighthearted cheerfulness floating in the air.

Because fundamentally, Anson’s goal wasn’t to overpower the screenwriters, take control of the project, and become the all-powerful producer; it was to find a suitable way to collaborate with the two writer-directors, working together to complete the film.

Anson had no intention of completely taking over the crew—he didn’t see the necessity.

Strategy and tactics, in the end, weren’t about power but about the work itself.

So, under Anson’s control, the conversation paused.

However, McKee and Eric still didn’t speak.

Only now did McKee realize that they weren’t just wrong; they were terribly mistaken.

They had seen Anson as a mere financier, someone eager to become a producer but lacking artistic insight, an easily manipulated puppet, a stepping stone to realize their dream project, a lucky guy who made it on his looks but had nothing in his head—a mere object, a check, a label, certainly not an actor, let alone a person with a complete personality and soul.

But now, it seemed that they were the real clowns.

Over the years, they had prided themselves on their perfect script, refusing any criticism—let alone changes—and even the slightest doubt could trigger an explosive reaction, which had led to many difficulties in their negotiations.

They complained, protested, and blamed their unrecognized talent on others, believing that people just didn’t understand their creativity and hard work. They were convinced they were the next James Cameron or Ridley Scott, only unappreciated.

But now, Anson was willing to openly self-reflect—

Is he right for the role?

Maybe, maybe not. The root of the matter lay in their script's focus on the concept of the "butterfly effect," yet like many sci-fi films, it had a fatal flaw: it focused on the setting while neglecting the people within it. The flesh and soul of the characters are what ground sci-fi films in reality.

Of course, it’s not that McKee and Eric hadn’t considered this.

They had, and they had made adjustments, constantly adding details to the characters. But being so deeply involved, they repeatedly got sucked back into the sci-fi settings, obsessively fixing the plot holes, and unintentionally took the characters' motivations and settings for granted.

Now, faced with Anson’s honesty, sincerity, and directness, their defense and rebuttals stuck in their throats. Looking at their reflections in Anson’s deep blue eyes, they couldn’t help but start re-examining themselves:

They thought the script was perfect. They believed no one was better suited to direct. But what if they were wrong?

Then.

Anson looked back at the two screenwriters, confirming they had nothing to say before continuing.

“Actually, there’s one interpretation.”

“Obsession.”

“Maybe, at first, Evan simply thought that if he could change the past, he could rewrite the history between him and Keller. Slowly, this morphed into an obsession, a fixation, as if this was the only path to happiness.”

“When this obsession couldn’t be realized, the futility, the deep sense of loss, and the despair of hopelessness made him feel small and helpless in the face of fate.”

Anson cautiously put forth his thoughts.

Anson understood McKee and Eric’s insistence. In their position, anyone would find it hard to accept someone criticizing seven years of hard work.

But the key point was, Anson believed that as an actor, his chemistry with the character was also a crucial part of the film and couldn’t be ignored.

So, Anson didn’t rush but carefully navigated the conversation, subtly taking control before the screenwriters even noticed.

Sure enough, McKee got swept up in Anson’s rhythm.

McKee grasped at a lifeline in Anson’s words, straightening his back and nodding without hesitation, “Yes, that’s it.”

At least, this could prove that they had considered this point.

But then Anson paused, a slight smile curving his lips, “But if it’s an obsession, the script needs to plant a seed, allowing this origin, this motivation, to take root and grow with the story. Otherwise, the so-called obsession is just a one-sided interpretation, a castle in the air.”

Eric showed a thoughtful expression, “What do you mean?”

Instead of rushing to answer, Anson responded, “You’re the screenwriters. The answer should be in your hearts. You know the script better than I do.”

Subtly, Anson handed the initiative back to them.

After a brief moment of thought, Eric responded, “You mean that at the beginning of the story, we should show Evan’s lingering thoughts of Keller?”

“For example, even while dating his girlfriend, he still thinks of Keller. Or, his computer still has the love letters he wrote to Keller?”

“For example, he still keeps Keller’s mementos. Or maybe he found Keller’s phone number and tried calling several times but always gave up?”

As expected of a screenwriter, after seven years of working on this project, the inspiration came easily, with one setting after another flowing effortlessly.

Unexpectedly, Anson shook his head, “No, no, no, that would be too straightforward and shallow. It would make Evan look like a jerk.”

“Such a setup makes it seem like a case of ‘first love is sacred.’ If he’s in a relationship but can’t let go of the past, the whole story’s crux becomes solely about love, which seems very foolish and shallow.”

“The real brilliance lies in the fact that the past regrets and losses create a domino effect in life, leading to the inability to embrace happiness.”

“When he tries to trace back, reviewing his life through the psychological cracks, he realizes that those losses are deeply ingrained in him, formed by family, love, and childhood experiences, leading to certain deficiencies.”

“For example, the loss of the ability to love, the loss of the ability to believe in happiness.”

In this way, it goes beyond the superficial “first love” trope, elevating the entire story. It’s not just about love but a broader sense of missing happiness.

Most importantly, it perfectly aligns with the script McKee and Eric had created—

From the start, Evan was searching, seeking the missing pieces of himself through a psychologist.

Sure enough, as soon as Anson spoke, a switch flipped in the screenwriters' minds, and their brains finally started working again. This approach was something they could accept.

*Chapter 574: The Final Push*

The unique aspect of the movie "Butterfly Effect" lies in its exploration beyond mere time travel. It’s about unraveling the psychological changes that define the story's framework. In other words, everything has a root cause.

Because of this, McKee and Eric were especially resistant when outsiders tried to give them advice—they believed those people simply didn’t understand.

But when Anson started discussing the topic from the perspective of the story's roots and motivations, McKee and Eric were drawn in without even realizing it.

However, Anson wasn’t deeply knowledgeable about psychology, so he couldn’t be entirely sure of his ideas. He merely threw out a possibility, hoping to spark a brainstorming session.

“Maybe we should leave a clue.”

“For example, even though Evan is in a relationship, he’s not happy. Or, Evan always feels something is missing in his life, often zoning out but unable to pinpoint why.”

“Or maybe, he retains some of his purest and simplest memories or habits—actions or states that connect back to Keller, linking the past to the present on a psychological level.”

“Many people believe that first love is irreplaceable for a variety of reasons. A primary reason is the simplicity of that love, untainted by the complications of life, a pure relationship. This often leads people to equate first love with ultimate happiness, much like our desire to return to childhood.”

“That’s why Evan believes that fulfilling his first love would complete his life.”

“In the opening scene of the movie, we don’t need much—just a small thread, a memory, a habit, something that connects back to Keller. This could serve as the key to unlocking the rest of the story.”

Anson was trying his best to give the character room to develop and expand without disrupting the framework and narrative rhythm of the script.

In genre films, actors only need a small space to perform—not too greedy or ambitious, just the right amount.

Anson’s biggest concern was not disrupting the film’s own narrative flow—that would be a real disaster.

So, Anson didn’t provide specific instructions on what McKee and Eric should do. Instead, he offered an idea and handed the creative reins back to the writers.

So, what was the outcome?

Even though Anson had been extremely cautious, even though he had naturally guided the conversation into the topic through a series of deliberate steps, even though he had firmly captured the writers’ attention, bringing them just to the brink of success…

McKee caught on at the last moment.

“Are you trying to teach us how to write a script?”

With that one sentence, the atmosphere instantly cooled.

McKee finally broke free from Anson’s control, his reason returning. He looked at Anson with a face full of suspicion, his guard up, his expression sharp.

Anson was slightly taken aback. He glanced at Eric and noticed that he, too, had tensed up. With a light sigh, Anson didn’t try to hide his thoughts.

“Ah, I was so close.”

McKee: ???

Anson didn’t evade, meeting McKee’s gaze openly.

“No, I’m not teaching you how to write a script. I’m participating in the creation of this film as an actor.”

“You both know that in making a movie, it’s not just the writer and director who contribute. The actor, the cinematographer, the lighting technicians, and many others are also involved, right?”

McKee muttered, “What a load of crap.”

His demeanor was anything but friendly.

But Anson didn’t get angry; instead, he found it amusing—

As he had told Edgar, he understood McKee and Eric’s position because they were in similar situations. He understood their mindset, their persistence, and their resistance. But the difference was that he had options, whereas McKee and Eric were standing on the edge of a cliff.

“McKee.”

“You know, I have options.”

“I could make demands from a producer’s standpoint, insisting that you make changes, or we part ways.”

Anson noticed that McKee was about to respond, but this time, Anson cut him off.

“Of course, you could refuse, and the negotiations would end. We wouldn’t waste each other’s time, you’d continue searching for another investor, and I’d keep looking for my next project.”

“But I didn’t.”

“After all this back-and-forth, I’ve been playing this game of wits with you not because I have too much time on my hands—I’d rather be sunbathing in Cancun than sitting here dealing with your attitudes. It’s because I like this project, I agree with your ideas, and I genuinely hope we can work together to bring this project to life.”

“You could tell me to get lost, saying that you’ve spent seven years on this script and know it better than anyone.”

“But at the same time, you must admit that sometimes, when you’re too close to something, you lose perspective. A third party can often open up a new line of thought in the creative process.”

“So, the story circles back to the beginning.”

“Set aside your stubbornness and consider whether our discussion just now has any value.”

Anson chose his words carefully, one by one—

He didn’t argue about who was right or wrong, didn’t condescend or criticize, and didn’t press aggressively. He maintained his cooperative stance throughout.

Clearly, Eric was swayed. He glanced at Anson, then at McKee, who remained unmoved, and anxiously called out, “McKee,” but McKee didn’t respond.

Anson wasn’t surprised. He flashed a smile, “I think that’s enough for today. If you’re interested, you know my agent’s phone number.”

With that, Anson picked up his soda, took a sip, checked the menu, and pulled out his wallet to pay for his drink.

Under Eric’s bewildered gaze, Anson calmly and leisurely completed this series of actions, nodded in acknowledgment, and then got up to leave.

Eric’s eyes darted back and forth between Anson and McKee, watching helplessly as Anson exited the café. At the door, two fans approached him. Anson politely declined their request for a photo but gave each of them a hug, causing a stir of whispers and squeals from onlookers.

Eric couldn’t hold it in any longer. He turned to McKee and shouted.

“McKee!”

McKee had to use all his strength to control the urge to turn around.

Eric was exasperated.

“McKee, he’s already the perfect choice. Even if he’s not a perfect 100, he’s at least 99.”

“He’s right.”

“His ideas and inspiration have completely shut us up. Not only does he understand the project inside out, but he’s also researched the character and the script, and he’s bringing us investment. What more could you ask for?”

McKee was also frustrated. “That’s exactly why he’s dangerous. Either he knows nothing and just focuses on acting, or he’s an expert in everything—production, distribution, marketing, the whole nine yards.”

“Someone like him, who’s neither here nor there but thinks he’s particularly smart, is the worst kind of collaborator. They love to interfere in everything, and that’s a recipe for disaster.”

Eric didn’t care. “So, tell me, of all the producers or actors we’ve met so far, has any of them not tried to interfere or acted self-important? Is there anyone better than Anson?”

“At least, Anson is trying.”

“So, what exactly are you still hoping for?”

*Chapter 575: Innocent Manga*

Eric was a bit anxious, watching helplessly as Anson left the coffee shop and walked toward his motorcycle. In his panic, he couldn’t help but start babbling. Looking at Mackie, who still seemed conflicted but was visibly upset, Eric felt a surge of frustration.

“Damn it!”

“Mackie, that’s Anson, Anson Wood!”

“He has countless options right now. He doesn’t need to compromise for us, let alone choose us specifically. But he still showed up.”

“He read the script, he thought about the character.”

“He even worked with us, guiding the discussion step by step. Do you think any other actor or producer has ever studied our script this closely?”

“You always complained that no one truly appreciated the effort we put into the script. Now that someone finally sees it, you’re worried they’ll interfere with our creativity?”

The more Eric spoke, the more agitated he became.

Usually, Eric would sit by with a simple smile, letting Mackie take the lead in the conversation. But now, he couldn’t help but reveal his true feelings as a friend, venting his frustration without holding back.

“For God’s sake, what are you waiting for? No, what are you even hesitating about?”

“Damn it, Mackie.”

“Damn it!”

At this point, Eric couldn’t care less about Mackie. He stood up and rushed out of the coffee shop.

Standing at the entrance, Eric frantically looked around, trying to spot Anson. But before he could lock onto his target, a figure darted past him, rushing out the door.

It was… Mackie.

Mackie bolted to the roadside, anxiously leaning out into the street, completely ignoring the traffic. Her long, smooth hair broke free from its tie and fluttered in the wind, resembling the heroine from an innocent love story—

“Anson!”

Mackie called out.

“Anson…”

Her shout, filled with mixed emotions, made the scene feel like something out of a movie.

Except… Mackie’s appearance really ruined the cinematic moment; her wildly flying hair was almost comical.

Eric couldn’t bear to watch. The shout he had been about to call out was swallowed back down, and he glanced around at the stares from people near the coffee shop. Feeling embarrassed, he quietly took a step back, distancing himself as if to say:

I don’t know him.

“What’s going on with him?”

A voice asked nearby. Eric instinctively covered his face, lowering his voice and mumbling, “I, I’m not really sure either.”

“Is this some kind of dramatic confession of love?”

A teasing comment made Eric wish he could crawl into a hole. He was a simple guy, bad at talking, and had no idea how to respond. He let his hands drop, looking over in confusion.

And then he froze.

“Anson…”

Eric stood there like a statue, his brain completely shutting down. His voice caught in his throat as he looked from Anson to the motorcycle still parked where it was. It dawned on Eric that they’d been foolish.

Anson’s gaze was fixed on Mackie’s figure. “Does he need some help?”

Eric shook his head, then nodded, finally regaining a bit of his senses. “We were looking for you. I, he, uh, we want to work with you.”

This time, fearing they might lose the chance, Eric spoke quickly.

“You, it’s you.”

“Indeed, we hadn’t considered the nuances and depth of this character. Any actor could play the role, and we have no right to make demands. More importantly, we hadn’t seriously thought about the character’s own colors.”

“But our conversation just now gave me inspiration.”

“I believe he’s a bright kid, or at least he used to be. Because of a series of events, he gradually closed himself off. Even though he still appears cheerful on the outside, his eyes show sadness.”

“Just like you.”

“To be precise, like Peter Parker, but more mature and broken than Peter Parker. He’s not a high school student; he’s in college, caught between being a student and entering the real world. He’s starting to reflect on his life, trying to sort out his thoughts and find direction.”

“As you said, he’s confused and troubled by life, happiness, and his own existence, not because of superpowers, but because of reflecting on his own life.”

“So.”

After a burst of frantic talking, Eric had to pause to catch his breath. He stared blankly at Anson in front of him—

Incredibly, the protagonist they had spent seven years creating was gradually coming to life before Eric’s eyes, perfectly overlapping with Anson.

Very unexpectedly, the story of “The Butterfly Effect” suddenly felt entirely different in his mind.

“Blade Runner” didn’t receive much praise when it was first released, but it made a strong comeback more than a decade later, earning widespread acclaim. The fundamental reason was that the characters in the story were full of life, giving the audience space to interpret them.

Over the years, Eric and Mackie had poured their hearts and souls into the script of “The Butterfly Effect,” growing more confident over time. But they kept hitting walls in reality, never finding the right producer or studio, leaving them puzzled and even starting to feel resentful.

But now, suddenly, as they broke out of their own little bubble and their narrow mindset, everything became clear—

A charismatic character, a flesh-and-blood protagonist, and a chance to truly merge the sci-fi setting into reality and life.

The answer might just be Anson.

Taking a deep breath, Eric found himself getting excited.

“We need you.”

“In fact, it has to be you.”

“Anson, you… you can use your charm to give the character more possibilities. At the same time, we need you to be the key to this project, to secure funding, to gain attention.”

“Sorry, today’s entire meeting was a mess, a complete mess, but it’s not too late. We can still get back on track.”

“We’re asking you to join us.”

Usually, Eric preferred to leave the talking to Mackie, standing by with a smile. But now, he hadn’t expected it himself—he just blurted it all out, letting all the thoughts in his mind spill out.

Anson was taken aback too, not expecting such a turn of events.

Just as Anson was about to speak, Mackie, who had been dramatically shouting his name from the center of the world, returned and was now calling out to Eric. Then, he saw Anson.

Mackie’s face lit up, “Anson, I’m sorry, sorry, really sorry.”

He hurried over to Anson, stumbling over his words as he tried to collect his thoughts, taking a deep breath to recover from the surprise.

“You’re right.”

“We don’t want anyone interfering with the script because we believe no one knows it better than we do. But that doesn’t mean the script is perfect.”

“After the movie is released, thousands of viewers will watch it, and they’re bound to find flaws. So why not let it be you?”

“You’re a viewer too. You found a flaw. We shouldn’t treat you differently. On the contrary, it’s better to find the flaws now and fix them before it’s released and criticized by the audience.”

“We were too arrogant.”

“So, are you still interested in our project?”

Having said that, Mackie anxiously looked at Anson, his heart pounding wildly, nearly ready to leap out of his throat.