526-530

*Chapter 526: Blending In*

Gus felt his assumptions were being overturned, bit by bit. The labels he'd previously stuck onto Anson were being peeled away, one by one.

Now, it was happening again.

Gus had thought blonde hair didn't suit Anson.

Anson's own aura was relatively low-key—handsome yet sunny, elegant yet carefree. Such a flashy blonde color was too garish; not only did it not add any appeal, but it also unnecessarily detracted from his looks.

The wig was a perfect test.

But Anson had a different idea.

To him, it wasn't about whether the blonde hair looked good or not. Teenagers often made the wrong choices; the key was the sense of rebellion—it could be seen as an act of defiance.

The result?

Gus didn't like it.

He admitted that even after seeing Anson's blonde hairstyle, he still didn't like it. It looked cheaper and tackier than the wig, and he even suggested that Anson shave his head.

"At least a shaved head has character."

However!

As time passed, Gus began to understand Anson's intention.

Over the past few days, Gus had been hiding in the corners of the school, observing. He watched Anson, with his dazzling blonde hair, wandering through the campus, like a wandering soul. The students would pass by him, look at him, even pause, but never truly get close, as if an invisible barrier surrounded Anson, separating him from everyone else.

The sense of loneliness and vulnerability naturally surfaced.

A shaved head would have been too stubborn, too sharp, contrary to the tone of the movie. But this blonde hair, blooming like fireworks, subtly masked his loneliness and sorrow.

In just a few strokes, an image sprang to life.

So, Gus had judged wrong again.

For a brief moment, Gus worried he might be biased towards Anson, just finding excuses to justify his decisions. But seeing the reactions from the other students on campus confirmed it—

Anson had been wandering right in front of them for three days, yet they continued searching for his presence like headless flies.

Anson said, "They're looking for Peter Parker, not Anson Wood."

A simple statement that made one ponder deeply.

Now, Gus somewhat understood why Anson agreed to act in "Elephant." So, when he saw Anson enthusiastically volunteering as a camera assistant, Gus wasn’t surprised at all. This is exactly what Anson needed right now:

Everything returning to normal.

Look, step by step, Gus was completely changing his perspective on Anson.

More importantly, the scenes of the entire movie were starting to take shape in Gus's mind.

Gus couldn’t wait to see Anson’s performance in front of the camera—

“Cut!”

“Alright, this scene's good. Next one.”

Compared to Anson’s previous works, Gus’s filming style was minimalist. Although Steven's shoots were efficient, it was because of meticulous preparation beforehand. Gus, however, didn't prepare much. Everything was kept simple, and the filming progressed quickly.

In "Elephant," there weren't many scenes, but Gus had a twist in mind—switching perspectives in the same scene. This meant the same events could be presented continuously from multiple viewpoints.

But unlike those mind-bending twist movies, Gus wanted to use these monotonous, repetitive shots to reflect the dullness of school life while sketching out a vivid, lively crowd, showing different perspectives.

So, before shooting, Gus would confirm the "plot" with the students, ensuring they knew what they were doing and continued with their activities without minding the camera. Then he’d confirm the camera's movement path, ensuring the students wouldn't bump into Harris.

As for lines, actions, and other details, Gus wouldn’t give much direction—students were free to improvise.

Finally, Gus would find the main character for the scene. The confirmation was mostly the same; the only difference was that the camera would focus on the main character, capturing them in close-ups, medium shots, wide shots, and so on.

The entire shoot had only a basic framework; everything else was very spontaneous.

Overall, Gus rarely nitpicked. Rather than focusing on acting details, he cared more about the actor's state and aura—what the camera aimed to capture.

The next scene's main character was Anson.

Not only Gus, but everyone in the small crew was eagerly anticipating it. However, Gus's anticipation was different from the others'.

Gus expected Anson to surprise him with his acting skills, while the others were excited to see a Hollywood actor perform up close—

In simple terms, one was from a professional perspective, while the other was just for fun.

So, what about the main character in the spotlight?

To be honest, Anson felt a bit unsure.

In the past, no matter the role or plot, there was always a script. The script had lines, expressions, and directions. With the crew's arrangement, actors could always find their place in front of the camera.

Now, without a script, nothing at all, being told to “improvise” actually made it harder to know what to do—

The hardest decision in the world is to "do whatever."

Gus told Anson to improvise, but Anson couldn't just make a dramatic entrance with a 360-degree windmill move. If he did, Anson wasn’t sure if Gus would explode on the spot.

In terms of acting, Anson was still a newcomer. His previous roles had clear guidelines, giving his efforts a direction. This time, there wasn’t one, so he could only rely on himself.

Whew.

This was a challenge and also a learning opportunity.

Before joining the crew, Anson had done his homework and researched the character. From wig to blonde hair to blending into the school, he was gradually building the character, step by step. Now, he just needed to follow his mental blueprint and immerse himself in the role—everything would be fine.

Anson silently reminded himself.

Then, he nodded at Gus, indicating he was ready.

But was Anson really ready?

“… Cut!”

Gus halted the filming for the first time, tilting his head, lost in thought.

“Relax a bit more, yes, just a little more relaxed.”

But by the fourth interruption, Gus changed his mind again.

“Too much. I need you to pull back a bit, tighten it up. You get it?”

Again and again.

Gus kept interrupting the shoot. Even though Anson followed his directions each time, Gus remained unsatisfied, and the scene ended up with another "NG" take.

“This doesn’t feel right. Let’s do it again.”

“This one was good, but... let’s do it again.”

“Hmm, one more time.”

The seventh take, the tenth take—the continuous "NGs" turned the shoot into a disaster. The entire set was filled with a suffocating tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The smiles had long faded from Alex and Eric's faces. No one knew what was going on or what to do—

So, this was the truth of Hollywood?

Were all those brilliant films actually backed by messy, amateur performances?

By the fourteenth "NG," Anson could no longer hold back, his face exhausted and serious.

"Director, we need to talk."

Wait, is this about to turn into a showdown?

*Chapter 527: Questioning Life*

The success of "Spider-Man" didn't go to Anson's head.

Despite his reluctance, he had to admit that what happened with Brad Renfro and Hayden Christensen served as a wake-up call, keeping him grounded.

Anson knew he lacked experience. The success of one film didn't mean much—he still had a long road ahead of him in his acting career and needed to keep learning.

At the same time, Anson didn't consider himself a complete novice or a clueless idiot. After all, he had tried different acting styles, including some method acting.

However.

Standing in front of Gus's camera, Anson felt like a complete fool.

In the past, when an NG ("No Good" take) happened, the director would usually communicate with the actor—what was good, what wasn’t, what needed adjustment, and what the problem was. Effective communication is the right way to foster collaboration.

But Gus said nothing—

Was it the lines? The expression? The state? The posture? Or some other detail? And if he were to improve, where should he start?

There was no information at all.

One moment it was "Relax a bit," then "Tense up a bit," then "More of this," then "Less of that." This wasn't like spinning cotton candy where you could adjust the speed and amount on a whim. Anson felt like he was back on a photo shoot set, where his body was completely uncooperative, making him feel like an out-of-control balloon man.

And so.

Not knowing what the problem was or how to improve, Anson was like a headless fly, stuck spinning in circles.

Improvise?

Who said improvisation was easy!

Initially, Anson wasn't very confident, and now, with consecutive NGs, he was lost in confusion and self-doubt, completely losing his direction.

To be honest, the later takes were a complete mess. Anson didn't even know what he was performing. It was a disaster—so much so that Anson himself wanted to stop filming without the director even saying anything.

If Anson didn’t know Gus well, he might have thought the director was playing a prank on him—

The earlier shoots went so smoothly, but when it was Anson's turn, there were so many mistakes? Was this some sort of intentional humiliation in front of the other students?

What happened to being a professional actor?

This.

Anson thought he wouldn’t mind, but he still noticed those looks of disappointment and bewilderment, like a mythical bubble had been burst. This made Anson give a bitter smile:

There was never any mysterious aura. The Hollywood star-making machine is what turns the mundane into the miraculous, not the actors themselves. Out of the spotlight, stripped of the aura, they are just ordinary people.

Self-deprecation aside, he still felt a bit ashamed.

Truly.

After filming "Catch Me If You Can," Anson thought he had grasped some acting skills and finally opened the door to the world of acting. But now?

Ha.

"Director, we need to talk."

As soon as Anson said these words, the atmosphere on set became a bit strange—

Was Anson angry and ready to confront the director?

Were they about to witness the legendary tantrum scene firsthand?

Under everyone's gaze! In front of everyone!

Anson walked towards Gus with long strides. The Anson in front of them seemed different.

In front of the camera, Anson got into character—a slightly gloomy, somewhat introverted, somewhat melancholic boy, who appeared very low-key.

But now, Anson straightened his shoulders and stood tall, his upright and slender figure naturally exuding a sense of pressure, and his whole demeanor changed.

So, this was the real Anson.

Gus gulped, swallowing hard, and his heart started racing.

"Gus, don't panic."

"Wait, Gus, why are you panicking?"

"Oh, God, he's just a newly adult kid. Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Gus realized it too and instinctively leaned back a bit, feeling Anson's oppressive presence from a distance.

Gus felt his knees trembling.

"Director."

"What exactly was wrong with the performance just now? I need some clear instructions."

Gus: ...

Everyone: ...

Where was the expected tension? The anticipated showdown?

Damn!

Anson was still Anson. In his past life, he'd faced far more embarrassing, terrible, and frightening situations. This little image crisis was nothing in comparison.

For Anson, the priority now wasn't about saving face or pride but about the performance—

The first scene couldn't just get stuck here, right?

Gus seemed dumbfounded, and Anson didn't get a response from the director. Still, he felt he should express his thoughts. Otherwise, if both sides kept guessing and speculating, they might never understand each other's needs.

Communication is the key.

"Director, let's sort out our thoughts and see if there's something wrong with my understanding of the character."

"I'm planning to skip class, but I'm caught by my alcoholic father, who forcibly drags me to school."

"I suspect my father is drunk again, and I'm worried he might cause trouble. So I leave the car keys at the school front desk and call my brother to pick up our father."

"I, uh, I hate him. I wish I could leave that home forever, but I still can’t let go. I'm worried about him, worried he might have an accident. If he gets into trouble, fine, but what about innocent bystanders?"

"Frustration, helplessness... I don’t even know who I should turn to for help."

—The plot, this is the plot.

In "Elephant," Anson plays a student named Anson, but he isn't just any ordinary student. He will be one of the few survivors of a school shooting and the central figure connecting the ensemble of the entire story.

Gus had considered whether Anson should play one of the two students who pull the trigger because the biggest star in the cast usually ends up being the last survivor. Having Anson play the survivor seemed too cliché.

But then he thought, casting the biggest star as a villain or a murderer is also a movie trope. Either way, Anson is the focus of the film, so he might as well go with the flow.

After all, this time, Anson wasn't saving the world as a superhero.

So, Anson's character carries the plot. He’s a person with a story.

But upon closer study, the character itself isn't that complicated. Anson believed he had grasped the essence and found a way to portray it.

The reality, however, was different.

After multiple NGs, Anson was almost starting to question his life.

So, he needed a conversation, an open discussion with the director.

Gus nodded. "Absolutely right."

Anson continued, "So, conflict, irritation, helplessness—that’s my state."

Gus nodded again. "Absolutely right."

Anson asked, "Then what exactly is wrong with my performance?"

Gus thought seriously for a moment. "I don't know."

Anson: ...

A conversation should be a back-and-forth exchange. Otherwise, it’s just talking to yourself.

Anson looked at Gus, full of helplessness. "Director, be honest with me. Are you that director who always wears sunglasses?"

Gus was stunned for a second, "Haha, no, I'm not. I can assure you."

After adjusting his smile slightly, Gus thought seriously, "Maybe it's the wrong state? No, the atmosphere is off?"

"Anson, there's nothing wrong with your performance. You’ve captured the essence of the character and conveyed the message."

Anson: ??? So who was the lunatic who just called for fourteen NGs?

"But I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

*Chapter 528: Returning to Reality*

Something feels off.

Gus knew his words might be hard to understand, but they were true—

Everything seemed right; yet, it just didn’t feel right.

As he spoke, Gus’s brain began to turn. Compared to working behind closed doors, the clash of creative sparks really did stir his thoughts.

"I, uh, I don’t really know."

"How do I put this... I’m looking for something that comes out naturally."

"I’m not sure, maybe—what I mean is, maybe your acting is just too much?"

"I want to see you. I want to see the unadorned Anson Wood, the real Anson, with your true voice."

What on earth is he talking about?

Anson couldn't help but laugh out loud. "This is my voice."

Gus also chuckled awkwardly, "It's a metaphor, just a metaphor. What I mean is, your acting seems perfect, but it's still acting, understand?"

"The other kids are just being themselves, their true selves, with a touch of acting. But the core is still who they are. You, on the other hand, are acting as yourself—a role constructed in your mind, a fictional, fabricated, unreal character that has strayed from reality. At the core, it’s still a mask."

"I need you to take off that mask."

Anson was taken aback—

What nonsense is this?

"Director, I'm an actor. If I don’t act, what am I supposed to do?"

Gus hesitated, "Uh..."

Anson continued, "Director, you say I’m not being real, but you don’t even know the real me. How can you be so sure that what the camera captures isn’t my real self?"

Gus replied, "You haven’t convinced me."

Anson: ...

This time, Anson finally got it.

Acting needs to be convincing. No matter who the actor is or what role they play, regardless of whether they physically fit the part or not, the ultimate task for any actor is to convince the audience that they are the character.

Why is acting in commercial films generally easier?

Because all the explosions, cuts, and fast-paced scenes serve as distractions that keep the audience's attention, leaving them no time to expose the actor.

But that doesn’t work for drama films. Stripped of those flashy distractions, the character is laid bare, and the audience's full attention is on the actor.

At its core, movies and magic tricks work the same way—everything is a sleight of hand. When the trick fails, the magic loses its power.

And here, it’s the same.

The other students are just students. Even if they bring a bit of acting into their roles, thanks to Gus crafting scenes that suit their characters, they can stay in their own space. Even without distractions, what they show is still their genuine selves as students.

But Anson isn’t.

Inside his nineteen-year-old shell lives a soul that has seen the world. Without the flashy tricks of “The Princess Diaries” or “Spider-Man” to hide behind, laid bare in front of the camera, Anson could only use acting to conceal himself, but it was all in vain.

Maybe Gus couldn’t explain it, but his intuition felt it.

So, what is real?

How should Anson show his true self in front of the camera?

People always think that acting is the hardest thing, and being real is the easiest. But the truth is quite the opposite. In real life, we are all actors—

At work, you might be on the verge of collapsing from stress but still pretend everything is fine in front of your family. You might be scarred and bleeding but still maintain your dignity in front of clients. You could be suffering from pain that makes you wish for death but still show a smile to your loved ones.

Over time, our truest selves get quietly hidden away, even from ourselves. That fragile, lonely, and weary self still sits silently in the dark, waiting for the wounds to heal.

Maybe only children are the exception, transparent like crystals. They don't hide, nor can they. They show their true selves without reservation, making them easily hurt with the slightest touch.

Reality.

It’s very, very far away from Anson now.

Unconsciously, Anson thought of Leonardo DiCaprio.

Not because the media often compares them as being on the same level, but because of a dilemma Leonardo faced in his career—

He couldn’t just be himself.

That way of putting it is a bit too artistic. More specifically, he needed a crutch, a mask, to perform.

Once praised as a talented young actor, Leonardo had already been nominated for an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor as early as 1993 for What's Eating Gilbert Grape. But later, he seemed to lose his ability to capture a character’s essence.

The reason? He got used to relying on the character traits—

The domestic violence in This Boy's Life, the intellectual disability in What's Eating Gilbert Grape, the rebellion in The Basketball Diaries, the mental deficiency in Marvin's Room, the split personality in The Aviator, and so on.

Leonardo needed a premise, a setting that provided room to explore, a point of dramatic tension for the character’s emotions to explode.

Without that crutch, Leonardo would feel lost.

Later, Leonardo realized this himself and tried to change his acting methods, only to fall into another trap, becoming stuck with his "furrowed brows, pursed lips, deep resentment" style, unable to go back.

Though Anson doesn’t have much acting experience now, is he perhaps facing a similar dilemma?

Or, looking at it another way, could it be that because Anson has so little acting experience, encountering such a dilemma early on might actually give him a chance to solve it?

Anson looked up at Gus. “What if I need an absurd premise to act?”

Gus paused, “What do you mean?”

Anson shrugged slightly, “What I mean is, all along, people have told me, ‘Hey, you’re a good actor, you’re a charming performer.’ But what if all that charm comes from the characters? I have to become a pre-set heartthrob, a low-key but talented nerd, a high school student hiding his superhero identity?”

“These dramatic roles become a protective layer, helping me deliver my performance.”

“But once that layer is gone, I feel lost, standing in front of the camera like a fool.”

“Like just now. I was acting, but clearly, my performance wasn’t convincing. Maybe I’m just a fraud, a pretentious liar?”

This time, it was Anson who couldn’t stop talking.

Gus fell into deep thought. He quietly looked at Anson and realized his way of communicating might have been misguided, misleading Anson.

But in a way, Anson was also right—Gus didn’t like how “over the top” Anson’s acting was.

It wasn’t that Anson was overacting, but in this movie, such a style stood out too much.

So, what should they do?

Gus thought it over carefully. “Hey, Anson, let’s remember—you’re playing a rare survivor of a school shooting.”

“If that isn’t dramatic enough, honestly, I’m not sure what Hollywood film out there could be considered dramatic.”

“Let’s not forget, our project was rejected because it was deemed too sensitive and potentially controversial.”

With a touch of self-mockery, Gus managed to make Anson’s lips curl up into a slight smile. In the end, Anson didn’t argue back.

*Chapter 529: The Aura of an Idol*

"Anson."

Gus looked at Anson with clear eyes, showing a hint of encouragement.

"I want you to know that you can be yourself."

"No disguises, no performances, just show your true self and find your own voice; that's okay too."

A simple sentence, light and without any force, yet it calmed Anson's restless and anxious heart.

Looking at Gus, Anson gave a helpless smile, "Director, where did you hear this bit of inspirational wisdom? Was it on Oprah?"

Gus thought seriously for a moment, "It might just be."

Pfft.

Around them, a few people couldn't help but chuckle.

Gus was not distracted; he continued to look at Anson, "Listen, I know it's scary. To expose yourself on the movie screen, in front of millions of faces. God, that's the reason I didn't want to be an actor."

Anson's lips curled up, "Director, are you sure that's the real reason?"

Gus spread his hands, "Let's just pretend it is."

Then.

Gus continued, "But at the same time, it's also a chance for us to face ourselves. You know, we always live in one cocoon after another, sealing ourselves up tightly, fearing to expose our vulnerability and softness, lest we become targets for predators."

"Maybe the hurt will come, maybe it won't, we can't know."

"But one thing's for sure, we're already hurting ourselves."

"Be brave to face yourself, be brave to know yourself, and be brave to embrace yourself. Learning to reconcile with yourself is more important than anything."

Anson was startled—

Could Gus see through him? Had the fact that beneath this facade lay a weary soul been exposed?

But after carefully observing Gus for a moment, Anson realized he was overthinking; Gus had just mentioned it unintentionally.

Gus's words continued.

"Anson, your performance, your understanding, your interpretation, they're all correct, but it's missing a bit of authenticity."

"I don't know what it is, but I believe you can find the answer because you're an excellent actor."

After the words were spoken, Gus noticed Anson's surprise a beat later, only then realizing what he had just said.

From doubt and dissatisfaction to unreserved recognition, it was a change that occurred in just a few days. The affirmation, praise, and trust were genuine, not just a formality. Compared to Anson, Gus himself was more surprised.

But, upon serious thought, Gus nodded gently once more.

"I believe in you."

Again, there was no hesitation.

Then.

Gus saw a faint smile lift the corners of Anson's mouth. It wasn’t bright or dazzling, but light and shy, yet it seemed to light up the whole world.

The smile paused for just a moment, and then Anson continued, "Director, I might need a bit of time to sort out my thoughts."

Gus nodded lightly and said decisively, "No problem."

Anson turned and walked toward the other end of the corridor, completely unaware of the stunned and bewildered gazes around him as he walked away.

Alex: Speechless.

Can anyone explain what they just witnessed?

Not long ago, there was a murmur of disappointment in exchanged glances. Once the mysterious veil of the movie was lifted, the filming process revealed was devoid of any aura:

Primitive, rough, simple.

Not to mention magic, it even made people want to laugh.

No wonder people always say that distance creates beauty. Hollywood is no different; don't get too close, or the illusion might shatter, and everything will be overturned.

After taking off the Spider-Man mask, Anson looked just like an ordinary handsome guy. Apart from that appearance, there wasn’t anything particularly special.

It was hard not to sigh with a bit of regret.

An idol had just risen, not yet reached the divine, and his aura had already dissipated.

But now?

They had just witnessed the birth of an actor on the set!

Frankly acknowledging his shortcomings and fears, bravely facing his flaws and mediocrity, analyzing the character while dissecting himself, breaking the fourth wall, navigating between performance and reality, carefully revealing the most tender and fragile parts of his inner self, and finally turning them into material to flesh out the character.

The audience sees just an image projected on the big screen; but behind the screen, hidden is the contemplation of life by the actor and the director.

A movie can be just a movie, a bucket of popcorn.

But a movie can also be more than just a movie, becoming an expression, a performance, an interpretation, opening a door to another world for the audience.

Of course, they had just seen one scene. No one could predict the outcome—

Maybe after Anson finishes his reflection, he’ll astonish everyone; maybe, after spending a lot of time, it’ll still end up terrible; maybe, the scene they just witnessed was completely a PR stunt, deliberately performed for the students to see.

But no one could deny the impact of this scene.

It was even more shocking than when Anson held the reflector as a camera assistant just now.

This proved Anson's professionalism as an actor, especially in the glorious success of "Spider-Man." Anson was still willing to explore acting with both feet on the ground, without any airs, which was indeed admirable—

Even if it were just an act, the fact that Anson was still willing to play along for the sake of his image already surpasses countless actors.

Moreover, Alex didn't think it was an act.

He had seen it with his own eyes and truly felt it; he believed in his judgment.

Anson was genuine, Gus was genuine, all those setbacks and fears, those conversations and reflections were all genuine, and the confusion and perplexity were no exception.

It turned out, outside the glamorous Hollywood and the dark and rotten Hollywood, there was another side, a group of people living like unicorns.

Alex turned to look at Eric—

Lost for words.

He couldn't find any words to describe it, didn’t know how to express his feelings.

Eric, on the other hand, had quieted down, no longer as excited and thrilled as before.

Up until just now, Eric saw Spider-Man, Peter Parker; but now, he saw Anson Wood.

Eric said, "Don’t you think this kind of Anson is particularly charming?"

Alex was puzzled.

Eric said, "I mean, someone who focuses on one thing and puts their whole heart into it, who dares to admit their failures and face their vulnerabilities, who is passionate and unreserved. Such a person is exceptionally attractive."

Alex nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes, yes!"

Eric watched Anson’s departing figure and murmured, "I’m really looking forward to his performance."

Alex said, "What if he messes it up again?"

Eric laughed, "Wouldn't that be even more spectacular?"

Alex imagined the scene and nodded vigorously, unable to hold back a laugh.

If, after all the fuss, he put on such an act, and still ended up messing it up, the scene would be... quite remarkable.

But that's not something Anson needs to worry about right now.

For now, Anson doesn’t have time to think; he needs some time to calm down and organize his thoughts.

Whether it’s the acting school or the method school, it all comes down to one thing: performance. But now, Anson needs to show himself, the real him.

That’s the hardest thing to do.

*Chapter 530: Exploring the Self*

What was he like at seventeen?

He remembers that year, on his birthday, his dad bought him a skateboard. He tinkered with it at home for quite a while, thinking he had figured out some tricks, then took the skateboard to school, ready to show off.

During a break, he took out the skateboard and glided through the hallways, swift as the wind, his school uniform jacket billowing behind him. He certainly made an impression.

Then, he caught a glimpse of the girl he had a crush on. Wanting to impress her, he got carried away and tried a trick—

He wiped out.

And the fall was anything but graceful, arms and legs splayed in all directions.

His hair, meticulously styled with half a can of gel, was completely messed up. He quickly got back on his feet, pretending nothing had happened, but then he heard a ripple of stifled laughter around him. Only later did he realize that his pants had torn at the crotch, exposing him as he turned around—a truly humiliating moment.

Worse still, the skateboard shattered a glass window of the classroom next door.

Yet, back then, he was fearless. After a brief moment of embarrassment, he accepted all the strange looks and admitted that he had failed at showing off.

Later, when the teacher from the neighboring class came to scold him, he owned up to his mistake. As a result, he was dragged by the ear to the office and had to call his parents.

His father came and was berated by the neighboring class teacher.

What was his father’s response?

His father, without losing his dignity, apologized and paid for the repairs. However, he refused to admit that skateboarding was wrong. He believed that kids should be active and that physical fitness was just as important as academics. "If young people are raised like hothouse flowers, that's the real problem," he argued.

After a heated exchange, just before the teacher from the other class could roll her eyes, his father led him away, not even bothering to return to class. He called it:

"The kid took a hard fall. We're going to get him checked out at the hospital."

He still remembers the scene vividly—holding his skateboard, basking in the envious stares of his classmates as he followed his father out of the school.

Once they left, his father gave him a good scolding, but not for causing trouble; rather, it was for his lack of skill. "Showing off without the skill to back it up and making a fool of yourself—that’s on you," his father said.

"Does it hurt?" his father asked after the scolding. He nodded, grimacing in pain.

"Good. It should hurt more, so you'll learn your lesson."

Despite his words, his father took him to the hospital for a thorough check-up and explained everything to his mother when they got home. His father even decided to keep him home for two more days.

When he finally returned to school, he had become a bit of a legend. Wild rumors had spread everywhere, so much so that he didn’t even know where to begin to clear things up.

Surprisingly, out of this chaos came a stroke of luck. The girl he had a crush on came to him with a love letter. His friends made such a big deal out of it that the whole school knew by midday.

Thinking back now, those moments of glory, freedom, and happiness have faded, replaced by memories of worries and anxieties.

Worried about his father’s reprimands, his mother confiscating the skateboard, embarrassing himself in front of his crush, gossip spreading around the school, the teacher from the other class potentially holding a grudge, and the mountain of homework that would pile up from missing two days of school…

In those days, he could experience multiple emotional highs and lows in a single day. It seemed like he had endless energy and boundless enthusiasm.

So, that was what youth felt like.

What about him at twenty-five?

“Mom, remember to bring your ID.”

“Mom, there’s no need to pack those flowerpots. We can’t take them with us.”

“Mom, we have to leave now. This isn’t our home anymore.”

The house was a mess, utter chaos.

He still remembers the stunned look on his mother's face when she learned she couldn’t take her beloved peony with her. She kept asking repeatedly, “It’s just a flower, isn’t it? It’s my flower. Why can’t I take it?”

He didn’t have the energy to comfort her.

He needed to stay calm; he needed to be rational because now, he was the head of the family.

Everything happened so quickly. They didn’t even have time to pack their belongings properly. They only managed to grab their documents and the small stash of emergency cash his father had hidden in a humidifier. Then, like stray dogs, they were driven out.

Rushing to a relative’s house for refuge, they encountered closed doors everywhere. He and his mother walked all afternoon but couldn’t find a place to stay.

He knelt at his uncle’s door for two hours, but his uncle never showed. His aunt cautiously peeked out from the balcony and tossed down a note.

The note was blank, with five hundred yuan inside.

Staring at the blank note, his mind was a jumbled mess. Despite the mountain of urgent issues to deal with, he had no idea where to start.

At that moment, he began to miss his previous worries.

His eyes started to well up, but realizing his mother was right beside him, he quickly wiped them dry, straightened his back, and tried to stay strong.

Did he resent his father?

For a long time, he refused to believe what had happened.

The father he remembered was always tall and strong, strict yet loving, always watching him with focused, hopeful eyes.

How could such a father disappear without a trace, leaving them defenseless in the line of fire, never to be heard from again?

During those sleepless nights, he imagined countless possibilities, made countless excuses for his father, and even considered the worst, most terrible scenario. But there were no answers, never an answer.

There was no time to grieve, no time to panic. More storms lay ahead, waiting. Thrown into the fray with nothing but his bare hands, his confusion, fear, and uncertainty were all irrelevant. They dissolved into a vast emptiness overnight, leaving him with just one focus:

To get through today. Don’t think about tomorrow, let alone the day after.

Step by step.

The seventeen-year-old him was real.

The twenty-five-year-old him was real too.

But the point is, whether at seventeen or twenty-five, everything had already been locked away in the depths of his memory, refusing to look back, not daring to look back.

There was no time, no strength. He had to hold on to today. The power of memories was too overwhelming, too fierce, easily destroying the strength he had built with all his might.

All those bright and vivid, those dark and dismal memories, were all the same.

It wasn’t until many years later that he finally understood the ending of "Spirited Away," why Haku told Chihiro not to look back as she walked away.

Because once you look back, the power of the "past" will completely crush you, and you'll never be able to move forward again.

But today, he finally looked back.

He needed to look back. He believed he was strong enough now to do so.