"Haha, hahaha."
Seeing Anson's carefree smile, Lucas felt a bit relieved. It seemed that these past few months in Hollywood hadn't been too hard on his younger brother. Anson still looked the same as he did in Lucas's memory, maybe even a little more cheerful.
Maybe, being an actor isn't a bad idea after all.
While Lucas's thoughts were swirling, Anson stuffed two more chips into his mouth. Just as the bag of chips was about to run out, and Anson was feeling a bit regretful, Lucas pulled another bag out of his briefcase.
Seeing the surprise on Anson's face, Lucas just said, "The last bag."
He gave a warning look but still opened the bag and handed it over.
Anson's eyes sparkled with a smile, "So, why did you suddenly show up?"
Lucas's face darkened. "You're asking me? You came to San Francisco and didn't even give me a call. If Uncle Darren hadn't mentioned it by accident, were you planning to keep a low profile? Usually, you don't even make a phone call, but now you're in the city and haven't even stopped by. Who knows what Mom would say."
"If I hadn't shown up, I bet you'd be sneaking back to Los Angeles again, right?"
"Image, Lucas, image." Seeing that Lucas was about to go on a rant, Anson quickly reminded him. But even as he spoke, he didn't stop moving and stuffed two more chips into his mouth, making no attempt to hide his amused expression.
Lucas was speechless for a moment. "Do you think I'm like you, always concerned about image?"
Despite saying that, Lucas took a deep breath to calm himself down.
After a pause, Lucas looked at Anson again and couldn't help but voice his concern, "Do you still have enough money?"
Lucas Wood, twenty-four years old, works at a venture capital firm in Silicon Valley. He's very capable and was just promoted to director of venture capital at the beginning of the year. However, it's clear that Lucas doesn't plan to work under someone else forever. He's currently building his experience and waiting for the right opportunity to start his own business.
As for Anson's sudden interest in becoming an actor, although Lucas was worried, he didn't say much. Every now and then, he would just transfer money into Anson's account.
In Lucas's view, the reason Anson hadn't called or reached out recently was simple: acting wasn't going well, his confidence took a hit, and he was too embarrassed to admit it to the family.
So, he just decided not to get in touch.
It's only a half-hour drive from Silicon Valley to San Francisco, a very short distance. Anson came to San Francisco for work and didn't call Lucas for an entire week, which was simply unimaginable.
So, Lucas decided to come over himself.
To this, Anson felt—
Thank God.
Initially, Anson was worried about exposing himself. After all, the soul inside this body had already changed. With Darren and his roommates, it didn't matter much since they weren't that close, but family was a different matter.
Anson thought that once he fully adjusted, once the memories fully merged, once he completely adapted to all the habits, then he would contact the family to avoid arousing their suspicion, and he'd have a series of excuses ready to cover up.
Or maybe, he could just distance himself a bit, keep his distance, since deep down, he didn't really see them as his family.
But unexpectedly, Lucas showed up first.
Now, it seemed that after a short meeting, Lucas hadn't noticed anything unusual. The time for buffering and adjusting had helped a lot.
Moreover, Anson himself felt the same. After actually meeting Lucas, that sense of closeness and familiarity naturally fused with his soul.
He could feel that the original owner had a very close relationship with his family.
The worries Anson initially had did not come to pass.
At this moment, hearing Lucas's words, Anson's first reaction was:
No, not enough; the more, the better.
But the words that naturally slipped from deep within his soul were quite different.
"Didn't Uncle Darren tell you? This is already my second job."
Anson was surprised, startled by his own words and the naturalness with which he said them. The habits of interacting with his brother seemed to have seamlessly integrated into his reflexes, and a faint, helpless smile appeared at the corner of Anson's mouth.
But surprisingly, this feeling... wasn't bad.
Lucas nodded. "Yeah, I heard. Uncle Darren said you did well." He paused, then continued, "So, is it enough?"
Anson was slightly stunned. A faint warmth slowly filled his chest, like cotton candy.
Caught off guard, at a moment even he hadn't expected, the fortress he had built layer by layer cracked open a small slit.
In his past life, he had gotten used to being alone.
Working alone, eating alone, living alone, moving forward alone, bearing everything on his own—he had long been accustomed to it all.
At the age of twenty-five, his life completely turned upside down.
His father's booming business suddenly collapsed, revealed to be a Ponzi scheme. The victims collectively filed a lawsuit, bringing his father to court. But before the trial, his father vanished without a trace.
It wasn't until then that his mother told him that, although they had divorced several years earlier, all the family's fixed assets had been mortgaged to the bank by his father. His mother also thought it was just for business needs and didn't ask much.
The once-envied family fell apart overnight, leaving nothing behind. Those bank seals he saw on TV, he saw for the first time in real life.
Before that, he was also the campus star, dressed in fine clothes, living life to the fullest, embracing dreams and the future, laughing freely under the sun, and sprinting with all his might. After graduation, he joined a television station to start his career.
One night, it all collapsed.
Because the culprit had escaped, the victims targeted him. Even though his father and mother had divorced seven years ago, in the eyes of the victims, the divorce was just a smokescreen. They accused him of being an accomplice to his father, helping him escape justice, and condemned him as the devil who spent the victims' hard-earned money.
Condemned by everyone.
He didn't know.
Truly, he knew nothing about his father's affairs.
But that didn't matter.
He couldn't argue back, had no way to defend himself, and could only silently endure.
After being severely cyberbullied, the television station, under pressure, fired him.
He left, like a dog with its tail between its legs.
He used to think those scenes in TV dramas, where people threw rotten eggs and tomatoes, were too melodramatic and exaggerated, impossible in real life.
Not until he experienced it himself did he realize that all art is inspired by life, and he couldn't fight back—had no position or qualification to resist. Seeing those faces twisted with anger, broken by despair, he couldn't blame them.
He had to bear the weight of life.
His mother?
She didn't understand either. She had never worked, had no skills, but now had to leave home and cook for workers at construction sites, starting over, rebuilding their life from scratch.
Whether he liked it or not, the moment his father fled, the invisible, heavy guilt became the shadow he had to carry forward.
He grew up overnight.
From then on, he got used to being alone, relying only on himself.
More than once, in fleeting moments, he would look up at the sky between the gaps of tall buildings, wondering if everything could be reset and if he could have a fresh start. He never imagined that this would actually happen.