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Under the veil of night, the lights of the Angel City glittered magnificently. Although it lacked the endless skyscrapers of New York, the lights on Beverly Hills still declared the city's prosperity.
Here, the world's largest film industry resides; here, dazzling stars are made every year; this is Hollywood. Each year, countless handsome men and beautiful women flock here seeking their chance—Americans and people from around the world, all eager to become overnight sensations, to be those admired celebrities whether reserved, noble, or unique.
As long as they could become famous, as long as they could establish even develop themselves in this extravagant place called Hollywood, they didn't mind giving it their all. Wait, you say it's for acting, for a career in film? Of course, everyone would say that, wouldn't they?
The golden hall of the Hilton Hotel was hosting a medium-sized cocktail party, celebrating Universal's latest movie success. So, despite its moderate scale, many stars came to show support. As always, couples appeared and disappeared, the noise outside perfectly masking the activities in certain rooms inside.
As the sound of panting excitement slowly diminished, the room finally became completely quiet. Minutes later, the rustling of clothes being put on began to surface. Perhaps due to earlier intensity, the Armani suit was wrinkled, and the latest Chanel evening gown was at risk of falling apart. What a pity.
"You are truly captivating, Miss Barrymore," the man said while fixing his clothes, gazing with satisfaction at the woman's alluring body only half-covered.
"You can call me Drew, Adrian." The woman's voice had a unique huskiness that was indescribably tempting. After wiping off something carelessly left on her face due to forgetting some measures, she put down the makeup mirror in her hand and nonchalantly restored the straps of her evening gown.
Even though her makeup had been removed, that innocent doll-like face had a certain charm. Her youthful, seductive figure could definitely be described as a sensual being.
Drew Barrymore, a perfect example of Hollywood's rise to fame and subsequent fall. She appeared on television at just eleven months old and rose to stardom by playing that adorable little girl in Spielberg's "E.T."; she then won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress in several box office hits, becoming a star under the spotlight.
Yet the pressure of early fame led her to start drinking at eleven, and she eventually had to be sent to rehab by her mother. Luckily, as the goddaughter to a top director, she was now regaining her career by playing a few mature and sexy roles, very much like her current self.
"You can also call me Ed, Drew." Adrian fixed his clothes and extended his hand towards Barrymore.
"To be honest, this was my best time, Ed." Relying on his hand to stand up, Drew gave a charming smile, which on that still seemingly pure doll-like face made it exceptionally captivating, "I'm nearly infatuated with you."
"I am too," Adrian said with a smile, his hand sliding down to pinch her rounded behind.
He certainly wouldn't believe it genuinely. Everyone could say nice things; they both understood it was just for show. However, this flirtatious woman was indeed very tasteful—skilled techniques paired with her beautiful 17-year-old body, leaving quite an impression.
Cocktail parties and gatherings were indeed great places; this felt very good. He could attend more of these in the future. Adrian, maintaining a smile while helping Drew organize her clothes, gently indulging himself from time to time, thought in this manner.
When I traveled back to the '90s, everything changed; Hollywood will be in my hands!
This story started a year and a half ago.
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Dry heaving, Zhang Haoxuan crawled off the bed, covering his mouth and patting his chest until he regained composure.
Damn it, seems like he drank too much. He cupped his slightly aching head, wiped his face to clear his head, then got out of bed and walked into the washroom with the dim lighting.
As soon as he turned the lights on, Zhang Haoxuan froze, for there was a strange face in the mirror above the sink. Brown curly hair, eyes dark as a lake's bottom, features with rugged lines as if carved with a knife, yet possessing a special softness from the East, tall stature, broad chest… just rather young, with the looks of a Western pretty boy.
Staring blankly in front of the mirror for five minutes, Zhang Haoxuan turned and walked out of the washroom, back to his bed, mumbling, "Damn, still dreaming."
However, after lying down for less than two seconds, he suddenly sprang up and dashed into the washroom, turned on the light, and looked towards the mirror with fright.
"What, what… what the hell is going on?!" Zhang Haoxuan continually touched his face in terror. The tactile sensation from his hands and the action of the man in the mirror told him that this Western man was himself!
"Damn… did I… transmigrate?" As someone who occasionally read novels online to pass time, he quickly realized what had happened—a strange, indescribable emotion surged through his heart, excitement, fear, or perhaps exhilaration.
At this point, a sudden immense pain erupted in his head, like a red-hot branding iron jabbing in and causing his brain to boil. Zhang Haoxuan yelled, clutching his head as he rolled on the floor, not knowing how long it took before he gradually stopped, lying on the washroom floor panting heavily.
"What… just happened?" Zhang Haoxuan, after calming his breath, sat up somewhat confused. Such intense pain earlier was suddenly gone, leaving his mind clear without the fogginess one would expect after a blow. Though he felt sticky under his nose, upon touching, it turned out to be nosebleed!
He hurriedly stood up and looked into the mirror, sure enough, there was blood trickling beneath his nose, nearly reaching his lip. Just now… could this have been memory restructuring? Zhang Haoxuan suddenly recalled a movie he once saw called "The Butterfly Effect."
After contemplating for a few seconds, he closed his eyes to recall, and after taking a gulp, he reopened them, forehead sweating, feeling slightly dizzy. The original occupant of this body was named Adrian Cowell, aged 23, a playboy living off his parents' inheritance, and most importantly… the current year was 1990!
Mrs. Galen found today's Adrian quite peculiar; he wandered dizzily in the villa all day in his pajamas, occasionally muttering incomprehensible phrases. Whenever they met, it took him a while to recall his name, and while eating, he would push his food around the plate without taking any bites, an act most uncivil.
However, the strangest thing was that he had stayed at home all day! In the past, he was never back unless he went out drinking till his nose was drunk red, partying till dawn.
"I'm really fine, Mrs. Galen, really." Adrian said as he saw her out, deliberately repeating 'really' to emphasize his point.
"Alright, Mr. Adrian, I'll be leaving now," Mrs. Galen said, "I sincerely suggest you go to the hospital for a check-up. If you have post-electric shock symptoms, it could become troublesome."
"I will." He forced a smile and nodded, only relaxing after seeing her leave the villa.
"It's just like a dream." Adrian, or rather, Zhang Haoxuan, scratched his head. He had taken a day to organize the situation and adapt to the environment, which was finally better now.
As mentioned, this Adrian Cowell guy was a playboy living off his parents' inheritance; about two years ago, his parents had an unfortunate air accident, leaving behind an estate worth over $10 million, with about $6 million in various stocks and funds, followed by several pricey villas—like the one he currently lived in, worth at least $4 million.
Based on Adrian's memory, his family was indeed quite affluent; before, his parents often took him to high-end banquets. Unfortunately, because he was always out chasing pleasures and causing troubles, all the things he learned, like piano, guitar, and various books he read, were mostly to woo women, his other grades dismal. He even got into Stanford by paying his way in and out, which caused his parents, in anger, to re-write their will giving most of the estate to a charitable fund. Barely half a year after this change, they met their demise in an air accident, leaving Adrian no chance to prove himself.
Though being a millionaire isn't bad, if one manages their finances properly, it's still possible to live a lavish life. However, in a place like Los Angeles, where a bomb tossed into a rich neighborhood would take 80% of its millionaires with it, this amount of money seemed inadequate, especially for someone accustomed to lavish spending like Adrian.
Thus, over the past two years, it's all been drinking... and drinking—luckily not as extravagantly as before without any scruples—unfortunately, yesterday, after getting drunk and arriving home, he fancied fixing a broken bedside lamp himself, and as a result…
"What a pitiful and unfortunate guy." Zhang Haoxuan, sitting on the sofa watching TV, remarked while sipping Bordeaux wine from France. Although it seemed a bit excessive to say so, it was unchangeable now, wasn't it?
No matter what, I've inherited everything from him—his identity, his life. From now on, I am Adrian Cowell. Zhang Haoxuan shrugged, then stood and stretched fully in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. So, what could he do now?
Though not located on Beverly Hills, this villa was still within reach, looking down at the brightly-lit Los Angeles. Chuckling sounds came from the TV behind him, tuned to Disney's family channel, airing an all-ages TV movie.
Deep in thought, Zhang Haoxuan licked his lips subconsciously, a thrill like never before enveloping his entire body, and the burst of adrenaline caused him to almost tremble.
Hollywood! He squinted, whispering this term.
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