"Ha."
An exuberant, light laughter echoed in her ears, like a torch streaking across the pitch-black night sky, startling a flock of waterbirds. Their fluttering sounds traversed through the trees and bushes, then warm light poured down like a cascade, attracting all the fireflies and moths around.
Renly snapped back to reality. The musings about his performance in his mind paused. He turned his head and saw the figure in the red dress standing not far away.
Beneath the faint and hazy streetlamp, a slender yet graceful figure stood in place. The lace straps of her v-neck evening gown traced the graceful curves of her upper body perfectly. The wide front straps and narrower back ones exposed her chest's lines and collarbone's contours. Even though her back couldn't be seen, it conjured images of a smooth, polished expanse.
A thin veil cinched at her waist, tightly embracing her slender waist. The harmonious and symmetrical figure proportions induced countless fantasies about the long legs hidden beneath the sheer skirt. The light, fluffy skirt cascaded onto the wet road, and the sensational red color surged like a tide, like poppies in bloom under the mysterious, silent night. It was dangerous and sensual.
A sudden breeze blew, causing the skirt to gently sway. Swaths of red dispersed like splashed ink, unreasonably using the night as its canvas. It flowed grandly, spreading across the sky like myriad blossoming scarlet poppies. In the enigmatic, quiet night, it exuded an air of danger and sensuality.
The rushing wind's sound continued without pause—yet time and space seemed to have quieted down. It was as though all creatures had ceased their movements, leaving only the skirt swaying freely.
This was an unexpected visitor, a completely unforeseen one, appearing in such a startling and unconventional manner. This night was instantly brought to life.
"Hey, Alice." Renly's smile flowed forth from his eyes, his polite voice carrying a touch of teasing, actively greeting her.
A gust of wind carried the words, and Rooney heard that magnetic voice, gentle and resonant like a cello. It was as enchanting as melting dark chocolate, flowing silkily, inviting one to become lost in its depths.
Goosebumps appeared on her skin, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She couldn't quite discern if it was the chilly night dew or the compelling sound of the cello.
"Hehe." Rooney chuckled softly, upon reflection, still finding it somewhat absurd and amusing. She couldn't help but laugh again, "Hey, Mad Hatter."
In this fantastical night, it truly was Wonderland.
Rooney glanced at Renly, who remained motionless on the bench, and then at her own feet standing still. She then spread her hands out in a gesture of resignation and walked over. A simple movement caused a smile to play on Renly's lips. Subsequently, Rooney's steps halted, hindered by the length of her dress that trailed on the ground. Now, due to the wet ground, it clung to the earth and even gathered a bit of mud. The grand and splendid painting had turned rather disheveled.
This scene prompted a burst of merry laughter from Renly's lips, "Ha." The resonating echoes of laughter reverberated within his chest, buzzing.
Rooney shrugged her shoulders and let out a deep sigh, then turned around and decisively tore the skirt off her body, even without a hint of hesitation. The scene of her exerting brute force was at odds with her petite frame, creating a humorous effect due to the striking contrast, akin to the humor found in silent films of the past.
The sheer skirt was easily torn away, but the backside became uneven, resembling the attire of a beggar. Rooney glanced down at the torn skirt and shrugged her shoulders, grasping the sheer fabric in her hands. She lifted it up and took large strides toward Renly, then sat down next to him.
"Is this sponsored or purchased?" Renly pointed to the torn skirt in Rooney's hand. While he didn't display a smile, a faint smile lingered in his eyes.
Rooney pursed her lips, "It's mine now." The meaning was clear without the need for further explanation.
As they exchanged a glance, they suddenly fell into silence. It wasn't due to awkwardness or not knowing what to say; on the contrary, there were simply too many topics to discuss, so much so that they didn't know where to begin. Or perhaps, there were just too many talking points?
"Your head?" Rooney was the first to break the silence, seizing on the biggest talking point and addressing it directly.
"How does it look?" Renly's eyebrow lifted slightly, his formerly elegant movement now carrying a touch of jest due to his eye-catching bald head. Rooney nodded earnestly, "Is this what the Mad Hatter looks like without the hat? If that's the case, childhood dreams have been shattered."
There was no mockery, no sarcasm—just a sincere, serious tone. However, this very seriousness made it all the more irresistibly amusing.
"Isn't your manager looking for you?" Then Renly spoke up, seeing Rooney here was truly unbelievable. From Los Angeles to Seattle, even by plane, it couldn't be reached in an instant. Renly even began to wonder if Rooney hadn't attended the Oscars at all.
"He's probably gone crazy looking for me." Rooney shrugged her shoulders, casually curling her lips. "But I'm already here. What else can he do?" Her nonchalant demeanor evoked amusement, and Rooney countered, "What about you? Why didn't you go?"
Renly pointed to his head, "Just finished shooting this scene."
No further explanation was needed; Rooney understood in an instant. She once again earnestly observed Renly's head, feeling increasingly amazed.
Back in Teal Ridge, Rooney knew that Renly was a dedicated actor, an exceptionally outstanding one at that. But they had never worked together; their impressions were solely based on screen presence and conversational feelings. Today, those feelings had become tangible.
"Compared to here, the Sunset Tower Hotel is currently much livelier," Renly's nonchalant words seemed to carry an underlying meaning, sounding almost ironic.
"Coming from an actor who declined to attend the Oscars, is filming in Seattle, and even shaved his head," Rooney rolled her eyes and used ironic words, "Ha! Ha! It's truly hilarious." The vividly rolled eyes were full of life. "Honestly, that place is suffocating. Lights everywhere, crowds everywhere, smiles everywhere—it's like the Venice Carnival. Everyone wears a mask with a similar curved smile and empty eyes, sending shivers down your spine."
"Venice Carnival is such a terrifying event, I learned that for the first time," Renly quipped with a light laugh.
From this, one could sense Rooney's youthfulness, impulsiveness, unrestraint, boldness, and sharp perspectives—always black and white. But for Renly, those upper-class London parties, where everyone's expressions were vivid yet devoid of any soul, were truly terrifying.
Renly thought that attending the Oscars would at least be more interesting than London's aristocratic social gatherings.
Rooney placed her finger on her lips and made a "shushing" gesture, then couldn't help but laugh, "What about you? Aren't you curious about the award ceremony's results? Perhaps you won? After all, nominees have a chance, one in five."
Renly didn't retort, he simply pursed his lips and asked, "So did I win?"
According to Rooney's guess, since Renly had skipped the award ceremony tonight, he would likely brush off the results, possibly even make fun of them. However, she didn't expect Renly to play along so smoothly. Yet his deep brown eyes were gleaming with hints of gold, brimming with profound meaning.
This was the first time Rooney truly saw Renly's cunning and wisdom.
"No," Rooney didn't beat around the bush either; she rolled her eyes dramatically and disdainfully said, "There were no surprises tonight. Colin Firth and Natalie Portman won. "The King's Speech" beat "The Social Network". No ups and downs, it's so boring it could put you to sleep. The Academy still lacks courage, or you could even say they're timid."
A simple comment, but it revealed her sharpness and straightforwardness.
In the end, history had failed to alter its course.
Natalie still ascended the throne with "Black Swan", becoming the first actor of Gen Y to win an award, even earlier than Gen X's Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, and others, truly making history. The outcomes of "The King's Speech" and "The Social Network" remained unchanged; the Oscars adhered to their consistent conservative choices.
Renly, this reborn little butterfly, still had limited influence.
The paths from the previous life still followed the inevitabilities of history. Did this mean that all of Renly's efforts were in vain?
Even if he gave it his all, he couldn't change history, couldn't break through barriers, and couldn't earn his own recognition? Even with an Emmy Award for "The Pacific" and a nomination for "Buried", which to some extent altered historical trajectories, was this his limit? Even though he had continuously altered the course of many works, could "Renly Hall" the actor not change the entire Hollywood landscape?
Were all his efforts and persistence futile before the wheel of history?
Such thoughts flickered through his mind, only to be swiftly replaced by calm. From the moment he went against George and Elizabeth's expectations, coming to New York, he knew what kind of path he faced. From the beginning of his rebirth, he understood how arduous his dream would be. He wouldn't give up, not in the past, not now, not in the future.
History exists to be changed and written.