This isn’t child’s play—it’s a film project fueled by capital, and the reasons behind it are far from a whim. Ethan Sullivan lowered his eyes, the auspicious phoenix in his gaze shifting into a lazy, sleepy one, and said in a flat tone, “I want to give it a try.”

William Carter, sensing the mood, stopped asking questions and turned his face, recalling their university days.

He was lazy; Ethan Sullivan fetched his meals and water every day. When he borrowed books and didn’t return them on time, Ethan Sullivan always took the scolding from the librarian for him. When they bought a second-hand camera to shoot short films, he would sleep soundly while Ethan Sullivan stayed up all night drawing storyboards.

The spicy broth cooled, the swirling steam gradually dissipating. William Carter raised his cup: “Now that we’ve finished being sentimental, here’s to you.”

Ethan Sullivan had a refined straightforwardness and said, “I’ll drink it all.”

After leaving the hotpot restaurant, the mountain city’s lights were dazzling, even brighter than a cloudy day. The Porsche was parked by the roadside, the driver had gone off duty, so William Carter personally drove Ethan Sullivan back to the hotel.

Once on the road, William Carter asked, “Are you comfortable in this car?”

“It’s alright.” Ethan Sullivan sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting on the window, wrist propping up his temple. “You keep it for yourself. Get me a minivan instead.”

William Carter protested, “Come on, when I get busy, I don’t even change my clothes for days. I’m more worried about ruining my car. How about the driver? If he’s fine, let him handle the pick-ups and drop-offs.”

Ethan Sullivan said, “Sure, let’s not trouble Old Thompson anymore.”

William Carter laughed, “I almost forgot, Old Thompson called me this afternoon and said there was a mix-up at the airport—an actor from the crew got in the wrong car. I was busy at the time and didn’t listen closely. Was it true?”

The street scenes in the rearview mirror looked like a series of continuous shots. Ethan Sullivan stared at them, automatically freezing and rewinding them in his mind, flashing back to scenes from the airport.

He gave a soft “Mm” and said, “It’s true.”

William Carter asked, “Who was it?”

Ethan Sullivan replied, “The male lead you picked.”

“John Brooks?” William Carter turned the steering wheel, glancing at the cabin through the mirror as he made a turn. “Where’s the neck pillow? I just bought that authentic Shu embroidery one.”

Ethan Sullivan said, “Your male lead forgot to leave it when he got out. I gave it to him as a keepsake.”

“You’re generous.” Turning into a commercial street, with the hotel not far ahead, William Carter sensed something was off. “Hey, what do you mean, the male lead I picked? I sent you all the makeup test photos and audition videos, and you approved them.”

True, Ethan Sullivan had seen John Brooks’s photos early on and watched both audition performances repeatedly, but he knew nothing about John Brooks himself.

He asked, “Why did you choose him?”

“Without interference from capital, politics, or power, isn’t casting about suitability?” William Carter slowed down and gradually pulled over. “On audition day, everyone was seriously preparing, but only John Brooks was reading comics.”

Ethan Sullivan: “……”

William Carter recalled, “He didn’t know I was the director. I asked him why he wasn’t preparing, and he was quite cocky, saying he memorizes lines fast. When it was time for the audition and he saw me again, I was worried he’d get nervous, but he was even more relaxed than when he was reading comics—don’t know if it was nerves of steel or just not caring.”

“So that’s why you picked him?” Ethan Sullivan unfastened his seatbelt.

“That attitude of his—‘I don’t like studying, I take exams just to participate, I really don’t care’—it’s perfect.” William Carter paused, turning to look at Ethan Sullivan. “He’s just like Samuel Green.”

Ethan Sullivan was silent for a moment, then said slowly, “He really is a lot like Samuel Green.”

William Carter unlocked the car doors. “Samuel Green is the male lead, so isn’t this just right?”

Ethan Sullivan said, “But Samuel Green is an idiot.”

He got out of the car. A cool night breeze greeted him. As Ethan Sullivan was closing the door, William Carter interrupted, asking if he wanted to join the script reading tomorrow.

He shook his head and said, “You’re in charge. I trust you.”

Ethan Sullivan returned to the hotel. As he passed through the lobby, he caught a glimpse of two people, one tall and one short, out of the corner of his eye. He paid them no mind and walked straight into the elevator area.

Jason Wright was checking in and reminded, “I’m on the 53rd floor. It’s late, so go to your room, put on a face mask, and get some sleep. I’ll come up and help you tidy up in the morning.”

After a long day, John Brooks was a bit tired. He took his room card and headed off.

The express elevator had just closed, so he took another one. He checked his reflection in the gilded mirror doors, then stared at the changing numbers as the elevator rose.

The 62nd floor arrived. There were only a few suites on the whole floor, and it was very quiet. John Brooks stepped out of the elevator slowly. As he turned, he saw a figure moving a few steps away.

He wasn’t one to scrutinize others, but at this moment, his gaze followed.

That person was about 1.8 meters tall, with a thick, neat tuft of hair at the back of his head and a long neck, half exposed from the oatmeal-colored shirt collar. Below was a body in motion, the back slim, but the shoulders, waist, and legs all just right—proportioned and neat in a way that didn’t seem like an ordinary person’s build.

Unconsciously, John Brooks turned the corner and walked down another corridor. With his long legs, he gradually closed the distance to just one step behind.

Suddenly, the other person stopped and stood sideways outside room 6206.

“Whoa!” John Brooks recognized him. “It’s you?”

The carpet was thick, so Ethan Sullivan hadn’t noticed the footsteps behind him. He was just about to look for his room card when he heard the voice, turned around, and met John Brooks’s surprised expression, momentarily blanking out.