John Brooks's tanned face flushed instantly. He had warmed up the seat, drunk half a bottle of Perrier, and kneaded the Shu embroidery pillow in his arms, only to be told that this car wasn't for him?

It was like Cinderella all dressed up, with makeup, gown, and glass slippers, only for the pumpkin carriage to refuse her a ride.

It was the first time in his career that Jason Wright had encountered such a situation. If word got out, he'd lose all face. Gritting his teeth, he tried to negotiate: "There are extra seats. Do you think we could go together?"

"I'm afraid that's not convenient," said Director Thompson. "Please try to understand."

There was already no dignity left, and now, with things said to this extent, it was nothing short of self-humiliation. John Brooks's head buzzed. He suddenly stood up from the seat, took a long stride, and stepped out of the car.

At that moment, Director Thompson stepped aside, revealing Ethan Sullivan, who had been standing behind him all along.

John Brooks found himself right in front of Ethan Sullivan. He lowered his head, looking at the person who was truly being picked up by the Porsche and the production manager. But Ethan Sullivan's sunglasses covered most of his face, so all John Brooks could see was his own reflection in the lenses.

Embarrassed, disappointed, annoyed.

Just a second later, Ethan Sullivan lifted his leg and got into the car, taking the seat John Brooks had just warmed.

The driver unloaded a few suitcases and loaded Ethan Sullivan's luggage instead. John Brooks and Jason Wright stood side by side, watching as the car door closed, the engine started, and the Porsche was about to leave them behind.

In a flash, John Brooks rushed forward and knocked hard on the car door.

Ethan Sullivan, already low on patience before getting in, rolled down the window just a crack and asked, "What is it?"

John Brooks held up the pillow in his arms. "I forgot to leave this behind just now."

Ethan Sullivan replied indifferently, "Keep it as a souvenir."

Before John Brooks could respond, Ethan Sullivan had already closed the window. The Porsche gradually drove away from the airport, leaving only a trail of exhaust.

Jason Wright raised his phone. "The license plate number just came in."

In the past, being snubbed was one thing, but now, even as the male lead, he was still being slighted. John Brooks said speechlessly, "That was fast. Did they send it with Internet Explorer?"

Jason Wright coaxed, "Let it go for now. Wait here, I'll go find us a car."

Ten minutes later, John Brooks finally got into his own van. He had no idea who had ridden in it before, but the lingering scent of perfume filled the cabin. Folding his arms, he gazed at the scenery flashing by outside the window, thinking with a sigh that with so many hills in Chongqing, no wonder he experienced such ups and downs as soon as he arrived.

John Brooks couldn't help but sing a line from a song: "Drifting and wandering in the sea of people, yet it's all a dream..."

He was a natural bass, and when he sang anything too melodious, it sounded like a phone vibrating. Jason Wright said, "Singing again? Remember, you're an actor now."

John Brooks ignored him: "Deep feelings will always be passed on, drifting through the emptiness of all things..."

The car twisted and turned, and after more than two hours, it slid into an old neighborhood. The roadside was lined with old trees and apartment buildings. After driving a bit further, they saw several vans parked ahead, apparently temporary parking spots rented by the crew.

"We're here?" John Brooks didn't see anyone around.

The driver was pretty cool: "Follow me."

John Brooks and Jason Wright followed the driver, passing through a narrow alley. When they emerged at the end, it was as if the page had refreshed—a different old neighborhood and several apartment buildings appeared before their eyes.

The crew had arrived.

The scene before them closely matched the setting described in the script—

An old street, the pavement cracked and stained, with a "No Entry" sign rusting on the sidewalk, left behind from some long-ago construction. Passersby ignored it, and a stray cat was sleeping right under the sign, looking more comfortable than in first class.

The street was crowded with four or six shops: a small supermarket, a barbershop, a photo studio that also did printing, and two snack shops that had been rivals for over a decade.

The residential complex across the street was quite old, with no gates or security guards—people came and went as they pleased. There were only two buildings in the complex, their walls with large patches of peeling paint, and the smoother spots were plastered with flyers. Each building had seven floors; some families hadn't enclosed their balconies, and underwear and air-dried sausages hung out to dry, sharing the space equally.

The balcony on the third floor was the cleanest, with a row of potted plants and two pairs of freshly washed sneakers on the windowsill. One window was missing a pane, patched up with a math test paper that had a big "39 points" written on it.

John Brooks looked up, knowing that was his "home."

The complex was right next to an abandoned elementary school, separated only by the playground wall. For convenience, a few bars had been removed from the fence, and every evening, elderly men and women would slip into the playground to walk and dance.

At the very back of the complex was a grapevine, its thick branches covering the trellis like a pavilion. Over the years, whenever someone moved out, they'd leave behind some furniture, and gradually a round table and four chairs had accumulated under the trellis.

People played mahjong under the grapevine all day, paying two yuan per game, because the grapevine had an owner—it was the only place in the complex that was actually cared for.

John Brooks felt a bit dazed, as everything described in the script appeared before his eyes, as if the fictional world truly existed.

Jason Wright said beside him, "This is way too realistic. Is it real or a set?"

That one sentence pulled John Brooks back to reality. He realized this was the crew, with over two hundred people coming and going all around—every one of them a staff member from some department.