Roar, roar, roar!
The café was unusually lively, with the bustling energy spilling out onto the street, becoming a scene amidst the noisy and bustling traffic.
But Anson didn't respond to the surrounding cheers and applause. Instead, he first looked at the two people he was supporting with his left hand, asking with his eyes, "Are you okay?"
The two of them were also in the process of saving themselves.
They had only lost their balance due to colliding with each other, and when Anson blocked them, he halted their fall. The next moment, their reflexes kicked in amidst the panic, and though they were slightly disheveled, they managed to stand firmly, avoiding the embarrassing scene of tumbling to the ground.
Exhaling a long breath, the two simultaneously looked at Anson and expressed their gratitude repeatedly, though their hearts continued to pound wildly.
With a slight release of the pressure on his left hand, Anson shifted his weight forward and firmly planted his right leg.
Bending down, Anson picked up the cup of coffee that had landed on his shoe. He checked if any had spilled. Fortunately, gravity had maintained a delicate balance. The cup landed on Anson's shoe, and as his right leg sank slightly to absorb the impact, he lifted it again to balance, controlling the cup.
Not a drop spilled!
It was completely intact.
Even Anson himself was a bit surprised. He then took a small step forward and looked at the lady in the black suit who was still shaken.
His lips curled into a gentle, warm smile. "I hope this doesn't ruin your good mood for the day."
At this moment!
The crowd finally realized that the true brilliance and wonder lay not in the fact that the domino effect had been avoided, but in the fact that the steaming cup of coffee—
How on earth did Anson manage that?
The coffee was completely unscathed, not a drop spilled!
What was this? Chinese Kung Fu?
Whether it was Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan, they had never seen a move like this before.
Everyone exchanged bewildered looks, their faces full of astonishment.
But the next second, disbelief and admiration surged through the crowd, followed by an uncontrollable wave of applause and whistles.
It rose and rose.
Among the onlookers were Sam and Scott.
Amidst the commotion, Sam remained as motionless as a mountain, his expression unchanged. It was the restless Scott who first lost focus, turning his head to look. Only then did Sam slowly shift his gaze.
Witnessing this scene, Scott's expression subtly changed.
On the contrary, Sam remained calm, his face expressionless as if he hadn't fully woken up. His drooping eyelids couldn't open no matter how hard he tried, and although he was seriously observing the commotion, his expressionless face made it impossible to gauge his thoughts.
Anson noticed—
When he saw the reactions around him, Anson had already taken note of Sam and Scott. He knew he couldn't hide his presence and that he had inadvertently exposed himself.
Since Edgar was able to obtain the audition list and knew that Scott was among the backup candidates, Anson had to assume that Scott's agent was capable of the same thing—after all, Scott had also found Sam.
So, what now?
Should he take the initiative? Casually walk up, greet them, and turn the conspiracy into an open play?
For a moment, many thoughts surged in his mind before Anson made his choice.
A smile crept onto his lips as he retracted his gaze, completely ignoring Sam and Scott, as if they didn't exist at all—
Today, he hadn't seen Sam, not at all, and wasn't even aware of his presence.
Then, Anson turned to the lady in front of him, handed her the coffee, and lightly patted her arm, kindly inquiring about her situation.
After receiving a positive reply, Anson politely smiled at the people around him, expressing his greetings and thanks— a bit shy, but still graceful and composed.
After looking around, Anson returned to the line and politely asked, "Was this my spot?"
The other New Yorkers in line, no longer displaying their usual cold and professional demeanor, smiled and gestured for Anson to return to his place. The man who had been in front of Anson even offered his spot, signaling Anson to order first, but Anson declined.
After waiting briefly, it was Anson's turn.
He ordered a latte and a muffin. The staff member who took his order beamed a bright smile and gave Anson two thumbs up.
The wait wasn't long. Another staff member quickly packed Anson's order and cheerfully said, "Have a great day."
Anson responded with a smile and replied loudly, "Have a great day."
Then, he quickly left the café, deftly pulling out his skateboard from his backpack, tossing it to the ground, and speeding away on it.
No looking back, no surveying the surroundings, no hesitation— no unnecessary actions. He departed gracefully, leaving not a trace behind.
Judging by the interaction between Sam and Scott earlier, Sam didn't appreciate such "unnecessary actions." It was clear that he was a person with his own views and opinions, unlikely to change his mind because of minor details. In fact, these small actions could even make him look at things with prejudice.
So, Anson didn't walk into the line of fire.
Not only did he avoid it, but he also left with flair.
After all, the unexpected disturbance he had just created had already caused enough of a commotion. There was no need to overdo it.
Thus, he left—without any lingering feelings or additional actions.
He left decisively.
Meanwhile, inside the café, Scott finally regained his composure.
He had thought that Anson would certainly choose to confront him head-on and engage in competition directly. However, he didn't expect Anson to show no attachment at all, as if he hadn't noticed Sam from start to finish. So, did Anson really not see Sam? Was his appearance here purely a coincidence?
Scott wasn't sure.
But regardless, the departure of a competitor was a good thing—it cut off any potential problems.
Scott turned his attention back to Sam. Although still feeling awkward, he wasn't willing to miss the opportunity. Mustering up his courage, despite the discomfort, he continued the conversation. After all, it was a rare chance to have a one-on-one with the director. He wasn't about to walk away like Anson; that would be retreating without a fight.
However—
As soon as he turned around, Scott noticed Sam, and an ominous feeling crept over him.
Sam was still Sam—looking sleepy as always. His expression and gaze hadn't changed; it was hard to tell where his focus lay.
But his direction was unmistakable.
Sam was quietly watching the door. Scott wasn't sure if Sam was paying attention to Anson's departing figure, and this uncertainty made him uneasy.
What mattered most was the trace of a smile in Sam's eyes.
Scott: ???
Was he seeing things? A smile? How could that be?
Sam, looking at Anson's departing back, why would he smile?
No, no, no.
This was all his imagination. He needed to focus.
Scott took a deep breath, showing his best smile and trying to bring Sam's attention back.
"Director, have you ever thought about shooting another horror movie? It's not just me who's looking forward to it."
Sam finally shifted his gaze to Scott, his expression becoming more meaningful.
---
That was the fourth update.