Scarlett: What's wrong with Angelina Jolie? Why did she appear in this conversation?
The problem was, her mind was filled with the scene she had just witnessed in the next room. Would it be better if she changed her question and asked about Billy Bob Thornton's whereabouts?
The corners of Anson's mouth lifted slightly. "I think she might be a little busy right now."
Scarlett was slightly taken aback. Her thoughts raced briefly in her mind. Could Anson also... She opened her mouth and looked at Anson with wide eyes.
Anson didn't explain. Instead, he put his index finger to his lips:
Shh.
Scarlett's thoughts were confirmed, and the corners of her mouth involuntarily curled up, as if they shared a secret.
Scarlett herself didn't realize it, but she cautiously took a small step forward, entering the room. She looked around curiously, like a vigilant cat. Although she didn't say anything, her actions were obvious.
Anson chuckled. "Actually, there's another person hiding under the sofa."
After saying that, Anson gestured towards the sofa. Scarlett immediately became alert, glancing at the sofa before realizing a moment later that Anson was joking.
Scarlett was a little embarrassed, revealing her cat claws. "Him, or her?"
Unexpectedly, Anson remained calm, his expression still unhurried and leisurely. His composure made Scarlett even more flustered. She bit her lower lip lightly and glared at Anson in protest.
Then, Scarlett took another small step forward and closed the door again, shutting out the noise and clamor from outside.
Scarlett looked around curiously at the books scattered all over the floor. "What are you looking for?"
Anson was flipping through the books one by one and opening small wooden boxes that looked like the ones used to store wands in Harry Potter. But unfortunately, there were no wands inside, only scrolls. Scarlett couldn't help but look curiously.
Anson let out an "Oh," not flustered at all. "I'm trying to steal the original score of 'Pathetique' from Jeff Robinov's collection."
"I thought these were all scripts from legendary Hollywood screenwriters, but I didn't expect a film producer to collect a whole room of sheet music and books."
Steal?
Of course not.
This room was shown to Anson by Jeff. There were four other guests with them, but unfortunately, the other guests didn't appreciate sheet music and old books. Only Anson was like a child in a treasure trove.
So, after getting permission, Jeff took the other guests to continue the tour, while Anson stayed behind, curiously examining Jeff's collection.
Scarlett was the same. "'Pathetique'?"
Anson smiled. "Tchaikovsky. I read an article about him not long ago and became very interested in 'Pathetique.' I didn't expect to see the original score here."
"But unfortunately, I can't find it."
This explained the mess in front of them. All the books and sheet music were laid out.
"If it's here. But I can't be 100% sure now. Maybe I should reread that article about Tchaikovsky."
Scarlett hesitated, but she honestly admitted her thoughts at the moment. "Read it a second time? To be honest, I'm afraid I wouldn't even be able to finish reading it the first time."
Her footsteps hesitated.
Anson looked up. "See, that's how I achieve my goal."
Scarlett: ?
Anson: "I casually throw out a few names that ordinary people know but don't understand. Outsiders don't dare to comment, and insiders disdain to comment. Then, I establish a highbrow image, concealing the fact that I actually like Britney Spears."
Pfft.
Scarlett burst into laughter. "But why hide it?"
Anson shrugged lightly, his hands still busy. "Image. People nowadays tend to fall into the trap of stereotypes, making judgments based on appearances without bothering to think critically."
"They see Matthew McConaughey and shout 'idol,' they see Jack Nicholson and praise his acting skills. Clearly, they haven't considered how Matthew and Jack feel."
A smile crept onto Scarlett's lips. "So, which category do you belong to?"
Anson looked up at Scarlett. "You've already made your judgment, haven't you?"
His gaze didn't linger, lowering again. His handsome face glowed with a soft light, exuding a gentle and refined charm with every gesture.
Scarlett herself didn't realize it. "If Angelina isn't here, then I should leave." But her feet disobeyed her words, taking two more steps closer. She couldn't help but stand on tiptoe to get a better look, scanning the books scattered between Anson's legs.
Anson looked up, the indoor light shimmering in his eyes. "I didn't know you knew Angelina. She's a dangerous woman."
His words were meaningful.
"She has a bit of a rebellious streak, very, very unconventional."
Scarlett caught a glimpse of Anson's eyes, unable to tell for a moment if it was the emotion in his gaze or the reflection of the light. It was breathtaking, carrying a hint of ambiguous danger that made Scarlett's mouth go dry.
The image she had glimpsed earlier involuntarily resurfaced in her mind.
She quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Scarlett told herself she needed to leave, yet her feet took two more steps forward.
Finally, Scarlett crouched down in front of the scattered books.
"It seems you genuinely love these music scores and books."
What he had said earlier about using high art to disguise himself wasn't true. Perhaps the truth was the opposite. People often formed stereotypes based on Anson's appearance, neglecting the rich and mature soul beneath that exterior.
Anson smiled. "Unfortunately, it's true."
Scarlett chuckled.
Anson: "'A sweet spring flows from a muddy well,' as they say. Even with your feet in the mud, you can still look up at the stars."
Even ordinary people can yearn for poetry and distant lands.
Scarlett immediately heard the self-deprecation in his words. She followed suit and sat down cross-legged. Although her rational mind kept telling her to leave, her gaze fell on Anson, and a smile crept onto her lips.
"Waltz suits me better."
Although the waltz had a long history, it actually originated in the countryside, from the peasants of Germany and Austria. Its widespread popularity later was due to various factors such as social changes and artistic tastes.
For a very long time, the waltz was condemned as a vulgar, evil, and ugly dance, symbolizing contempt and defiance of tradition.
That's why Scarlett had just said that.
Anson was slightly surprised.
Not everyone knew this history, and not everyone knew that the "waltz" was not the elegant and noble court dance of legend.
Clearly, Scarlett wasn't as "clueless" as she claimed.
Anson raised his chin slightly and looked into Scarlett's eyes. "Me too. Who could refuse the waltz?"
Second update.