556-560

*Chapter 556: All Coincidence*

"Hey, Anson!"

Lucas Wood flashed a big smile, holding a bouquet in his hands, and opened his arms wide, ready to give Anson a huge hug.

But Anson, looking disgusted, stopped him.

Lucas awkwardly scratched his nose, the smile fading as he returned to his usual cool demeanor. Only then did he remember the bouquet in his hand and extended it to Anson.

Upon closer inspection, he realized—

This wasn’t a bouquet of flowers; it was a bouquet made entirely of chips.

Small packets of plain chips were bunched together to form a bouquet.

Anson casually took the bouquet, stepped aside, and invited Lucas in.

"Luca? What are you doing here?"

"Mom? Dad?"

Inside, the room was in chaos again. The three of them were surprised and baffled, exchanging lively conversations, making the living room exceptionally lively.

But what about Anson?

Anson quietly returned to the living room, standing behind the couch, without interrupting the ongoing conversation. He just silently observed—

Something wasn’t right.

Once could be an accident; twice could be a coincidence; three times is inevitable.

Although Anson couldn't pinpoint why, he didn't believe everything before him was just a coincidence.

So, what was the reason?

The entire Wood family showed up?

Nora turned to Anson, "Oh my God, how did this happen? Your dad and brother are here too, this is so rare!"

Anson raised his chin slightly but didn’t lower it, "It is rare. I'm also very curious how this happened, Mom."

Nora was taken aback, "It’s a coincidence."

Anson squinted, "Mom, I'm not a seven-year-old who still believes in Santa Claus. I don't believe the three of you just happened to show up here without any prior discussion. So, what happened?"

"No, nothing happened." Nora shook her head.

Charles chuckled, "Ever since you caught me sneaking presents under the Christmas tree when you were five, you stopped believing in Santa."

"But we’re not lying. Nothing happened. Us being here really is just a coincidence."

Charles, with his usual unhurried demeanor, calm and composed, was very convincing, naturally persuading the others with his words.

However, Anson didn’t believe it.

"Dad, are you telling me that our family, who can't even get together for Christmas, just happened to all be in my living room by chance?"

"Come on, this isn’t a fairy tale."

"Wait, am I dying of some terminal illness, and I don’t even know it?"

As soon as he finished, Anson laughed.

Nora scolded him with some exasperation, "Anson."

Anson raised his hands in surrender, then finally noticed the chip bouquet in his hands, "And this, Luca, this definitely wasn’t just some random gift, right?"

Nora glared and scolded, "Lucas Wood, how many times have I told you, that's junk food, don’t let Anson eat too much of it."

Lucas didn’t argue, just quietly accepted the scolding.

Anson paused—

Right, if it had been planned in advance, Lucas would never have brought this gift. Knowing that Nora disapproved, why would he foolishly walk into that?

Could it really all just be a coincidence?

After all, truth is stranger than fiction.

But what about that persistent, nagging feeling that something was off?

Charles gently patted Nora, signaling with his eyes toward Anson. Only then did Nora pause her nagging, and Charles looked at Anson again.

"Since we’re all here, it seems like we could plan a family lunch today. How about it? Do you have time to join us?"

"Oh, by the way, you mentioned last time about considering moving, maybe even buying a property. Since we’re all here, why not let us help you decide?"

Everything seemed normal.

Charles effortlessly steered the conversation back on track, and you could see the sparkle of anticipation in Nora’s eyes, her excitement subtly rising.

All eyes turned to Anson.

However.

Anson looked at Lucas and called out.

"Luca."

Lucas looked up, meeting Anson’s clear, bright eyes. He raised his brows slightly, asking with his gaze—more direct and sharper than words.

Lucas sighed softly.

"It was me."

Nora gasped, "Luca!"

Charles covered his face, looking up at the ceiling, "Oh."

Anson, "Aha! I knew something wasn’t right. How could it all be such a coincidence! Your acting is so good, I almost fell for it. Now I know where my acting genes come from. Mom, are you sure you don’t want to audition for a couple of roles in Hollywood?"

Nora couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Lucas turned to his parents, "Anson figured it out; there’s no point in denying it any longer."

So, what was really going on?

Lucas turned back, his usually expressionless face softening, revealing a hint of concern as he looked at Anson.

Anson: Me?

Lucas nodded, "I saw the news on TMZ, all of it."

"Your roommates, Hayden Christensen, and Brad Renfro—did something happen between you? Did they hurt you?"

Anson paused, instinctively denying, "No..."

But Lucas didn’t believe it, "So where are they? Where are they now? If they’re innocent, if nothing happened between you, then we can meet them."

"Luca, they’re my friends. Why should I introduce you?"

"Indeed, if you had to introduce us, that would be a bit odd; but now, since we’re here, visiting your place, it’s not strange to say hello, right?"

"They... they moved out."

"Why did they move out?"

"Luca, we don’t need to question why they moved out."

"Right, I don’t care why they moved out. But if they dared to hurt you, let me tell you, this won’t end easily."

Suddenly, Anson's heart was struck.

Anson could feel Lucas’s anger and anxiety. Beneath those surging emotions was deep concern and worry, hitting him all at once.

Anson was momentarily stunned, "What if it’s my fault?"

Lucas shook his head, "I don’t care. No one can hurt my brother, no one! So, bring them out. I want to have a heart-to-heart with them."

But Anson felt as if he had been struck by lightning, sitting there in a daze.

It turns out, in this world, there really are people who will stand by you unconditionally, no matter what happens, no matter the circumstances. They’ll stand behind you, ready to take on the world with you, without hesitation.

The bitter and scarred memories from his past life rushed over him like a tidal wave, breaking down his defenses, catching him off guard.

Suddenly, his nose tingled.

Nora looked worried, "Anson, what’s wrong?"

Anson was flustered.

He realized his eyes were getting warm, quickly took a deep breath, and looked up at the ceiling, "No, nothing’s wrong."

"Anson!" Lucas shouted.

But Anson, hearing that call, smiled—a smile that blossomed fully, one of happiness, a joy and contentment that filled his chest.

"Luca, even if something did happen, it’s because I bullied them. When did I ever get bullied by someone else? Ah, I’m a bit disappointed you thought I was the victim."

Lucas: Uh, this.

He couldn’t help but scratch his head.

Charles and Nora both looked at Lucas, but then turned their gazes back to Anson, their eyes full of concern.

Anson's smile grew wider, "Really, I’m like Darth Vader in Hollywood right now."

*Chapter 557: A Solid Support*

Nora paused, slightly leaning closer to Charles, and asked, "Who is Darth Vader?"

Charles bent down a bit and whispered, "A character from a movie."

After speaking, Charles noticed Anson's gaze and hesitated, "Did I get that right?"

Anson smiled broadly and nodded gently, "Yes."

Then, Anson turned to Lucas, "You probably don't know who Darth Vader is either, do you?"

Lucas remained calm, "Do I need to know?"

Anson laughed and waved his hand, "No, no, you don't."

He had always thought that Star Wars had deeply influenced North American culture, permeating every aspect, and that even if someone hadn't seen it, they would at least have heard of it. But now he realized that was a bias. There were indeed people like Nora and Lucas who knew nothing about movies.

On the contrary, Charles, who was well-read and knowledgeable, could easily catch the reference.

Anson turned to Lucas, "So, you just told Mom and Dad to come to Los Angeles?"

Lucas sighed almost imperceptibly, "No, I just told them that you haven't been doing well lately. We all know what the entertainment industry is like. We understand that you can't avoid everything, but at the very least, we can be your support."

Then, Lucas turned to the Wood parents and said, "We agreed that I would come first this week to check on your situation."

"In two weeks, Mom would come and take you to an exhibit."

"Then two weeks after that, Dad would visit to see you."

"We staggered the visits so that you wouldn't suspect anything. But now look what happened!"

"Father!"

"Mother!"

Nora said confidently, "I was worried about Anson, so I came to see him. What's wrong with that? How was I supposed to know you'd all show up today? And you! I almost slipped up when I saw Charles!"

Charles cleared his throat and bowed his head slightly in embarrassment, "Sorry, that was careless of me."

Then, shifting the topic, he asked, "Lucas, what about you? Didn't you say you were coming over the weekend?"

Lucas didn't back down, "Oh, come on, it's easy for me to get here from San Francisco. Anson wouldn't be suspicious. And it was you two who..."

So, it really was just a coincidence?

This time, Anson was dumbfounded.

But behind this coincidence, he felt a strong warmth.

Watching the lively chatter in front of him, Anson couldn't help but smile broadly and chimed in, "Lucas, be honest, did you subscribe to TMZ updates?"

Lucas didn't hesitate for a second, "Of course."

Anson couldn't believe it, "Lucas! I'm not a minor anymore. You don't need to keep such a close watch on me. I won't cause trouble in Hollywood."

He felt a little guilty saying that—he seemed to have forgotten how he ended up here in the first place.

But Lucas was unmoved, "I'm just keeping an eye on my brother's news. You have no idea how dangerous the entertainment industry is. Those people will do anything for fame and fortune."

It was hard to argue with that.

Unexpectedly, Nora agreed, "Anson, I think Lucas is right. We don't usually read entertainment news, but I don't want to see your name on the front page of The Times."

"Mom!" Anson protested.

Charles joined in, "Anson, you can't blame Lucas for this..."

"Dad!"

Anson rolled his eyes, exasperated.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "TMZ is a tabloid site. You can't believe everything they publish. A lot of their news is fabricated."

"When I was filming in Portland, everyone thought I was recording in Sound City. I put out that fake news to throw people off."

Charles's eyes lit up, "So, you collaborate with the paparazzi too?"

Anson was both amused and exasperated, "Dad, that's not the point. The point is that TMZ gossip isn't reliable. If you're worried, you can just ask me directly."

Lucas shook his head, "You don't understand. Our focus is on knowing about any news that might hurt you, so we can protect you."

I don't need your protection.

If this were the 19-year-old Anson from his past life, that's what he would have said.

Back then, he was too young and eager to grow up, to prove to his parents that he could handle things on his own, that he wasn't a child anymore. All that care and protection felt like a burden.

It wasn't until years later, after facing the harsh realities of the world, that he realized those burdens were actually his armor, keeping him safe.

Now, looking at Lucas, Anson took a deep breath and smiled patiently, "Lucas, you can't read every piece of news, and you can't fight everyone who dislikes me..."

Lucas interrupted, "Why don't they like you?"

Anson was taken aback, "What?"

Lucas repeated, "I mean, why don't they like you?"

Anson burst out laughing, "Lucas, liking or disliking someone doesn't need a reason. Just like you don't need a reason to dislike someone. If you hate someone, even if they do nothing, you'll want them gone."

Lucas thought about it seriously, "Okay, I can't argue with that."

Anson continued, "So, you can't stop it all."

Lucas asked, "Then what should we do? Just sit back and watch, doing nothing?"

Anson replied, "No, you can do what you're doing today—stand by my side and show me that the people who dislike me don't matter because they have nothing to do with my life. The people who like me and support me are the ones who define my life."

"I'll need that reminder. Trust me, in this industry, I'll need those reminders."

Lucas quietly stared at Anson.

Anson said nothing more, meeting Lucas's gaze calmly.

Finally, Lucas gave in, "Alright." But after less than half a second, he asked again, "So what's the deal with Hayden and Brad?"

Actually, even now, Anson didn't have an answer about Hayden. They never met again and just drifted apart, becoming strangers.

Anson thought for a moment and said, "They were jealous of my success, and I figured it out, so they moved out."

For now, let's treat that as the correct answer.

Lucas asked, "Really?"

Anson shrugged, "What else? Do you want to check for emotional scars?"

Lucas was left speechless, "Fine."

Not only Lucas, but Charles and Nora also seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Then Charles remembered, "Anson, I was serious about what I mentioned earlier. Aren't you considering moving? Maybe you should buy a property. After all, you're an actor now, right?"

Anson looked at him in disbelief, "Dad, what's with the questioning tone at the end?"

Charles just smiled.

Lucas chimed in, "I don't like this house. I told you last time. It's too easy for the paparazzi to spy on you, and you should have your own private space."

Nora nodded in agreement, "Since you've now established yourself in Los Angeles, it might be a good idea to buy a property. It doesn't have to be big, just three bedrooms would do."

Anson nearly choked—three bedrooms, and that’s not too big?

Just as Anson was about to retort, there was another knock at the door.

This time, all four of them were stunned.

Anson counted, one, two, three, four—the entire Wood family was already here. Anson looked at Lucas, "Who else did you tell about me?"

Who could be at the door?

*Chapter 558: The Fifth Person*

Knock, knock—

Unexpectedly, there was another knock at the door. Anson's home had never been this lively before.

A party?

No need to lock the door—people could come and go freely, so why bother knocking?

Instinctively, Anson looked at Lucas. "Have you been spreading my business around?"

Lucas met Anson's gaze with a calm expression. "No."

"I just mentioned it to Grandma, oh, and to Uncle and Aunt…"

"Yeah, and Uncle Darren—I asked him if he knew what was going on. He's the one who told me that you were filming in Portland and just recently got back to Los Angeles."

"And then…"

Seeing Anson's expression growing darker, Lucas finally stopped. "No, that's it. No one else."

Anson, "Heh."

So, that's what he meant by "no one else."

But Anson didn't bother with Lucas any further and strode towards the door. Without hesitation, he yanked it open, and a gust of wind rushed in.

"…Captain?"

Standing at the door was Edgar.

Edgar clearly had no idea what was going on and began speaking to himself.

"Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting your vacation."

"You told me you were planning to go to Columbus next week, so I thought I should catch you before you leave…"

As he spoke, he entered the house and immediately noticed the three figures in the living room, his words faltering as he quickly scanned the scene.

"Mrs. Wood."

"And… this must be…"

Mr. Wood.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Edgar remembered the blunder he'd made in New York's Upper West Side last time. He chose his words carefully and didn’t jump to conclusions, instead looking at Nora.

Before Nora could speak, Lucas stepped forward briskly, "Lucas Wood."

Dressed entirely in black with a tall, muscular frame, Lucas exuded a physical intensity that was almost overwhelming. His expressionless demeanor made him seem like Lucifer incarnate.

With just one look, he established dominance.

Edgar, unprepared for this, felt his muscles tense reflexively. It wasn't until they shook hands that he realized his arm muscles were completely taut.

"Edgar Cook."

Lucas didn’t pause. "So, you're the agent who let Hayden Christensen and Brad Renfro bully Anson without doing anything?"

Anson facepalmed. "Lucas…"

But this time, Lucas ignored Anson, staring intently at Edgar.

Edgar felt a chill but managed to stay calm, adopting a professional demeanor as an agent. "Anson's personal friendships aren’t within my scope of work. I can’t, and don’t want to, interfere."

"My job is to ensure that Anson’s interests and reputation remain intact. Trust me, whether it’s Hayden or Brad, I’ve taken every precaution. I won’t allow them to tarnish my actor’s name so easily."

Professional, objective, rational.

Edgar didn't let Lucas lead him astray.

Lucas slightly raised his chin, scrutinizing Edgar with a focused gaze.

That look was unsettling.

Edgar knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help but feel nervous.

Edgar released his right hand, slightly surprised that Lucas didn’t push further and let go so decisively. But the unease in Edgar's heart didn’t subside.

Only one thought ran through his mind: escape.

Trying to remain calm, Edgar said, "Anson, it seems today isn’t the best time to discuss business. I won’t interrupt your vacation any longer; we can reschedule."

Before he could finish, a voice cut in—a warm, gentle tone that fell like a ray of sunshine on a cold winter day, spreading ripples across a calm lake.

"No need to rush. Since you're here, why not stay and chat for a while? After a busy day, it's important to take ten minutes to enjoy a cup of coffee. These moments outside of work are what life is truly about."

"Very pleased to meet you, Charles Wood."

The unhurried words gently enveloped Edgar, effortlessly breaking down his defenses and taking control of the situation.

Edgar, who had been about to leave, found himself rooted in place, unsure of what had happened. By the time he realized, he was already sitting on the sofa, surrounded by the three Woods, unknowingly drawn into their world.

Anson watched this unfold quietly, thinking, "Oh, poor Captain."

However, Anson didn’t say anything more. Just then, the kettle whistled, signaling that the water had boiled. Anson turned and went to the kitchen to busy himself.

When he brought the coffee back, he noticed Edgar’s desperate plea for help. In just a few minutes, he seemed to have lost weight, the puffiness from the morning gone, and the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced.

Anson wanted to laugh, but it didn’t seem appropriate, so he held it in.

It was the first time he had seen Edgar like this. He never imagined Edgar had such a side. The thought of playing a prank crossed Anson's mind, so he pretended not to notice Edgar's distress signal and turned away, leaving the room.

Edgar panicked. "Anson…"

He called out.

Anson turned back, looking completely innocent.

Edgar forced a stiff smile, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. "Where are you going?"

"To get the sugar and milk." Anson replied calmly. "Or do you all take your coffee black?"

In his panic, Edgar hurriedly said, "Black is fine for me. It’s just what I need to wake up in the morning." To prove his point, Edgar took a big sip of his coffee.

Anson, "It’s hot—"

Before he could finish his warning, Edgar grimaced, his entire face scrunching up, his limbs curling in response.

Seeing this, Nora couldn’t help but smile, completely entertained by the sight.

Edgar was too preoccupied to complain. "This coffee… are you sure?"

The burning sensation was bad, but he could handle that. What threw him off was the taste—it was like drinking ash water. Was this normal?

Charles glanced at the coffee and silently sat back down, clearly not planning to try it. "Anson, how did you brew this?"

"Just coffee and water, what else?" Anson said, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Even with the same coffee beans and grounds, sometimes the brew can be worlds apart. Some people just aren’t cut out for it.

Charles wondered how he should break this news to his youngest son.

But Anson continued, "Look at Lucas; he has no problem with it."

Lucas, as calm as ever, held his coffee cup as if he were savoring the world’s most delicious coffee, sipping it slowly and deliberately.

This sight left Edgar dumbfounded, making him question his own taste buds: could it be his sense of taste that was off?

Edgar took another tentative sip—no mistake, it still tasted like ash water!

"Captain, you mentioned work earlier?"

Finally, Anson decided to stop his prank and rescue Edgar from his torment.

Edgar stood up quickly, nodding vigorously, too stressed to care about the bitter taste in his mouth. The mental anguish was far worse than the physical discomfort.

"Yes, work."

Anson led Edgar towards the garden. As they walked away, a voice called out again.

"Mom, I saw you pick it up and then put it down. You should at least give it a taste."

Nora: Her smile was not a smile.

*Chapter 559: Red-Hot*

“Captain, are you alright? You look like you’ve just taken a ride on a pirate ship.”

Standing in the courtyard, the late summer sun was no longer scorching. Its gentle rays fell softly on the skin, gradually easing the tension from his muscles.

Edgar took a small breath, but his burning stomach hadn’t fully recovered yet. He couldn’t help but take a few deep breaths.

Slowly, he finally came back to his senses, and then Edgar saw a faint smile on Anson’s lips, filled with a bit of mischievous glee and teasing.

Edgar shook his head lightly and said self-deprecatingly, “God, I thought I’d seen it all.”

Anson chuckled, “They’d be very happy to hear that.”

Unconsciously, Edgar’s gaze lingered on Anson for a moment longer. “Your family has a great atmosphere. Now I know where your confidence comes from.”

The answer, however, wasn’t quite correct.

Anson’s confidence actually came from this extra life he had stolen.

But Anson didn’t plan on shattering Edgar’s imagination.

Edgar paused, “Unlike me…”

A touch of melancholy spread between his brows—bitter and gloomy, with a hint of loss and loneliness.

This was the first time Anson had seen Edgar like this.

Come to think of it, they were work partners, rarely prying into each other’s personal lives. Anson knew next to nothing about Edgar.

But before being a manager, Edgar was first and foremost himself. He had his own story, his own experiences that shaped him into who he was today.

Just like when they first met, even as a junior manager, he was neither arrogant nor humble, showing a calm maturity that didn’t match his age or experience.

That kind of demeanor—Anson understood.

It wasn’t confidence, but rather the early maturity that comes from being forced to grow up quickly and stand on one’s own due to life’s storms.

It seemed Edgar was also someone with a story.

However, Anson didn’t plan to pry.

Anson didn’t speak; he didn’t say things like “I understand” or offer any words of comfort because he knew that at this moment, any words would be superfluous.

He simply smiled sincerely at Edgar, standing by his side.

Edgar didn’t let the memories drag him into the abyss. He took a deep breath, controlled himself, and resumed his usual professional demeanor.

“Sorry, I got a bit distracted.”

“Are you sure discussing work here is really okay? With your family in Los Angeles, you should be enjoying a work-free vacation. I can come back another day.”

Anson smiled and waved his hand.

“They’re busier than I am. I’m actually the most free one in the family.”

“Maybe their phones have already rung while we were talking.”

“So, what brings you here today?”

After a brief adjustment, Edgar had recovered. Since Anson put it that way, he didn’t continue to hesitate.

“It’s about the next project. A script has come across my desk that I think is perfect for you, so I wanted to discuss it with you.”

“Last time when we were discussing the future after ‘The Elephant,’ it obviously sparked some conversation in Hollywood; but I don’t think you need to worry too much. No matter what move you make now, they’ll find a way to criticize it.”

If Anson followed up with another commercial film, the media would say Anson should consider his artistic aspirations as an actor.

If Anson continued doing similar action films, the media would say he was trying to become the new representative of the next generation of action stars.

Everything has two sides: if the media wants to praise Anson, then every decision is right; if they want to question him, every decision can be wrong.

In Edgar’s view, the media and Hollywood weren’t prepared—

“Spider-Man” unexpectedly exploded to such an extent.

Without warning, the second film after “Titanic” to surpass $600 million in North America emerged, so could Anson become the next Leonardo DiCaprio?

Looking back at the enormous media pressure Leonardo faced after his rise to fame, it’s understandable why the media is now in chaos with Anson’s meteoric rise.

Clearly, Hollywood isn’t ready to welcome another superstar of Leonardo’s caliber.

This is all temporary and also the inevitable situation that comes with overnight fame.

Edgar wasn’t worried.

However, all this commotion gave Edgar an idea.

“We just need to focus on ourselves.”

“In fact, you’re now the top pick on Hollywood’s list of young actors. For roles aged eighteen to twenty-five, you’re the priority.”

“For several important projects currently under discussion, you’re the first choice.”

“Can you believe it? Universal Pictures is preparing to shoot ‘The Hulk,’ and they actually asked if you’re available.”

“Oh, God.”

The 2003 version of “The Hulk”?

This was Ang Lee’s first time directing a commercial film. Unfortunately, it was a box office failure, which left Ang Lee so disheartened that he considered taking a break. It was during this dark period that he took on the little-known “Brokeback Mountain.”

Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. “How did you respond?”

Edgar didn’t hesitate. “I turned it down. Why, are you interested? If you are, I can call them back. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to sit down and have a detailed discussion with you.”

Anson waved his hand. “No, I’m just curious about your reason for refusing.”

“Image,” Edgar blurted out. “Although Spider-Man and the Hulk are both Marvel characters and there’s no conflict of interest, Sony Columbia is planning ‘Spider-Man 2,’ and you appearing as the Hulk on the big screen would be a bad idea for marketing.”

“Of course, we can continue doing genre films, but we should avoid repeating superhero roles. Otherwise, this path will only get narrower.”

Anson gently raised his chin, a hint of appraisal in his eyes as he looked at Edgar.

Edgar didn’t rush but met Anson’s gaze, confirming that their communication was smooth.

Anson smiled. “I agree. Please continue.”

Edgar also chuckled lightly.

“Not just ‘The Hulk.’ For any project with a budget over $100 million, they can’t not consider you. Even if you’re not the first choice, you’re certainly in the top three or five. The number of projects coming to test the waters is endless.”

This is also why Edgar wasn’t worried about media criticism:

The box office numbers speak for themselves. Every major studio has its own calculations, and no one can ignore the current heat and traffic Anson is generating in North America.

So, Anson’s concern isn’t about not having a next project but rather finding the right one from the countless offers.

If Anson wanted, his face could appear in the next three, four, or five blockbusters until audiences started complaining that Hollywood had no other actor but him.

But Edgar wasn’t planning on that. Such a strategy would be short-sighted and unsustainable.

His expectations for Anson were far higher than just a few quick hits. This was just the tip of the iceberg in their long-term plan.

### Chapter 560: Adjusting the Pace

In the face of the overwhelming success of Spider-Man, Edgar remained calm, becoming even more so as the box office records continued to be shattered. He knew that popularity, buzz, and hype were all just temporary. They may seem exciting, but soon the excitement would wane, revealing the harsh truth of the entertainment industry: profit is the ultimate goal.

Of course, Anson could ride this wave of success and take on a series of lead roles in major projects, staying in the spotlight. However, the pressure and backlash would gradually build up. If any of the films failed to meet expectations, or even if the box office results were just slightly lower than anticipated, the blame would fall squarely on Anson. In such a case, with his still-fragile foundation, Anson's career could take a severe hit.

This short-sighted approach, known as "fishing with dynamite," was something Edgar was determined to avoid.

“I think,” Edgar began, “we need to be more selective with projects that have a budget over $100 million. After all, Spider-Man 2 is already in the works, and that should be our primary focus. Unless there's an incredibly exciting script or a cast worth getting excited about, there's no rush to jump into another big-budget project.”

“However,” he continued, “immediately diving into the independent film market wouldn’t be a wise move either. Whether it's something special like Elephant or other projects that focus on acting and aim for awards, such a sharp turn might be too drastic.”

Anson interjected, “A 180-degree turn.”

Edgar blinked, “Huh?”

Anson smiled, “A 360-degree turn would bring us right back to where we started. A 180-degree turn is what you meant.”

Edgar was momentarily at a loss but then relaxed slightly, seeing that Anson was still in the mood to joke.

“A 180-degree turn,” Edgar corrected himself with a chuckle. “What I mean is that making such a drastic move would seem too aggressive and hasty, almost like completely abandoning the commercial film market. That would undermine everything we've built up so far, and it would be a terrible decision.”

It seemed that, like Lucas and others, Edgar also had his concerns. Even though he never admitted it, the media criticism had influenced him, prompting him to reassess his strategy.

Anson agreed with this sentiment—there was no need to rush things.

“Transitioning from a pretty face to an award-winning actor isn’t something that happens overnight. It takes time and careful planning, or else people won’t accept it,” Anson said calmly.

Edgar smiled wryly, “You're not just a pretty face.”

Anson shrugged, “People often think ‘pretty face’ is a derogatory term, but in reality, people always desire what they don’t have. I imagine Jack Nicholson probably wishes he could be a pretty face, but that unattainable goal is what honed his acting skills.”

Edgar couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Jack Nicholson's face in The Shining.

Anson remained unfazed, “So, what’s the plan?”

Edgar composed himself, “So, we should take things step by step. Maybe projects with budgets between $10 million and $50 million would be a better choice for now.”

Even though Hollywood's attention is often focused on projects with budgets over $100 million, in reality, even twenty years from now, mid-budget films will remain the backbone of Hollywood.

After all, even a powerhouse like Warner Bros. can only greenlight a limited number of major projects each year.

Mid-budget films offer a lot of variety and cover genres ranging from action and sci-fi to romance, comedy, horror, and more. Even superhero movies sometimes emerge as B-movies in this category.

On one hand, the budget is sufficient to allow the production team some freedom, while on the other hand, it’s not enough to burn on extensive CGI, forcing the team to focus on other aspects to ensure quality.

As a result, mid-budget films often discover a wider world, producing a surprising number of excellent works.

“Of course, mid-budget projects are limited by funds, so they might not have the same grand scale, and their box office potential might be limited as well. Even if they succeed, it might only be a modest hit,” Edgar explained. “But I believe these projects offer more opportunities for an actor to shine, rather than being overshadowed by special effects like in Spider-Man. This way, the audience can truly focus on you.”

Not opting for a major commercial blockbuster, nor diving into niche indie films, Edgar sought a middle ground—a buffer zone where quality was ensured while reducing pressure, allowing Anson to explore more possibilities as an actor.

It was clear that Edgar had put a lot of thought into this plan over the past few weeks.

Anson neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, he asked, “So, what project have you found?”

Edgar hesitated, “Huh?”

Anson continued, “Ideas are all well and good, but that’s just a general concept. You must have seen a specific project that perfectly aligns with your vision, which is why you’ve solidified this direction.”

Edgar was taken aback, “Wow, do you have cameras installed in my house?”

Anson replied seriously, “No, just in the office.”

Edgar: …

Anson burst out laughing, “You should have seen your face. Actually, it’s because you mentioned earlier that a script caught your eye, so I just made an educated guess.”

Magic, after all, is just sleight of hand.

Edgar admitted defeat, “Indeed, I’ve found a project.”

“In fact, it was initially handed to another agent at William Morris. However, my colleague thought the script was too complex and wouldn't have a market, so it ended up gathering dust in the storage room.”

“Oh, and yes, William Morris has a storage room filled not only with products from sponsors and random stuff but also scripts that agents aren’t interested in. They just sit there collecting dust. If you have the time to go through them, you might find some hidden gems, though the chances are slim.”

“Anyway, I saw this script, and I had a different opinion from my colleague. I actually think it’s perfect for you.”

“It’s a love story—see, we need to continue building your heartthrob image. But it’s also a sci-fi story, which means you can dig into the character and deliver a performance that shows different aspects of yourself to the audience.”

“So, I thought you should take a look at the script. You can read it while you’re in Columbus, just to pass the time.”

“If you’re interested, we can reach out to the director or writer to discuss it further. If not, we’ll keep looking.”

“No pressure, no rush. We have plenty of time to find the right project.”

So that’s what it was.

As he spoke, Edgar prepared to leave, “That’s the gist of it. I’ll let you enjoy your family vacation. Have a great time.”

“Edgar, the script.” Anson called out, exasperated.

Edgar slapped his forehead, clearly still dazed from the chaos the Wood family had caused that morning, and hadn’t fully recovered.

“Sorry, my memory.” Edgar apologized, stopping in his tracks and pulling a thick script from his briefcase. He handed it to Anson. “Don’t worry, the script isn’t that long. It just has some production notes included. Apparently, the director is still unsure about the ending.”

Anson took the script and glanced at the cover, where the title was written in bold letters—

*The Butterfly Effect.*