Ethan Sullivan lowered his head to eat his noodles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John Brooks circling around the semicircular seats, getting closer and closer. Amidst the smell of alcohol, he caught a whiff of that fresh citrus-scented perfume again.

Then, John Brooks brushed past him without stopping.

Walking to the other side of William Carter, John Brooks stopped next to Director Zhou. Up close, he noticed the top of the man's head was a bit bald. He thought, looks like writing really takes a toll on the brain.

Sensing the attention, Director Zhou hesitantly looked up.

John Brooks bent slightly and met Director Zhou’s gaze. Reciting the lines he had memorized in advance, he spoke upright and loudly—“Hello, Teacher Qu.”

The sound of eating noodles stopped.

John Brooks took a deep breath: “Teacher Qu, my name is John Brooks. You probably already know my name, but I just couldn’t help… wanting to tell you face to face once more.”

“I’ve always been your fan, but I never even dared to dream that one day I could act in your script. I’m so lucky, and to actually meet you today—I’m really thrilled!”

Director Zhou said, “Young man…”

“Hey!” John Brooks responded.

Afraid that Ethan Sullivan would start asking questions too soon, he quickly added, “Teacher Qu, I know every character is your painstaking creation, especially the protagonist. I will definitely study the script carefully and do my best to play my role well. Please watch my performance!”

He paused for a second after finishing, worried that being too smooth would make him seem less awkward. Then, holding his champagne with both hands, he smiled a little foolishly and shyly: “Teacher Qu, I hope I’ll have the honor to work with you again in the future.”

Director Zhou said, “I…”

“Please, go ahead!” John Brooks insisted on finishing his last line, “Let me toast you first!”

He raised his glass and downed it in one go, suddenly remembering Jason Wright’s advice: to end with something exaggerated, emotional, and unique, so that Ethan Sullivan would remember him.

John Brooks looked at the wrinkles at the corner of Director Zhou’s eyes and the faintly shining bald spot, estimating his age.

He gritted his teeth, threw caution to the wind, and risked getting beaten up at home by saying, “Teacher Qu, I grew up in a single-parent family. Seeing you today… is like seeing my father.”

The private room fell dead silent. Everyone was stunned, and even the drunk sobered up.

Ethan Sullivan put down his chopsticks, turned his face, and lifted his eyelids to glance at John Brooks’s tall back.

His mouth was full of spice, but his tone was as calm as a cup of cooled Longjing tea. Unhurriedly, he said, “Hey.”

Caught off guard, John Brooks jumped and turned around.

Ethan Sullivan looked at him with a half-smile, half-serious expression, and said softly, “Idiot, the one named Qu is right here.”

Chapter 8

John Brooks felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It was as if someone had lit a fuse at the table, and in a flash, laughter erupted all around, everyone roaring with laughter.

William Carter laughed so hard his stomach hurt, slapping John Brooks on the lower back and saying, “Xiao Lu, you got the wrong person!”

Despite being 1.88 meters tall, John Brooks suddenly seemed fragile. His legs went weak, and he swayed, staring at Ethan Sullivan in disbelief: “No way…”

“Still don’t believe it?” William Carter laughed even louder, putting his other hand on Ethan Sullivan’s shoulder, “This is the real scriptwriter Qu. You just toasted Director Zhou!”

The director’s assistant, afraid of taking the blame, explained, “Teacher Lu, didn’t I tell you? Scriptwriter Qu is wearing black.”

William Carter asked, “So how did you still get it wrong? Xiao Lu, you really are a character!”

Director Thompson was red-faced from laughing and chimed in to tease, “Xiao Lu, you got in the wrong car with scriptwriter Qu at the airport, and now you’ve mistaken someone else for him again. You really need to apologize properly to scriptwriter Qu.”

The room was in chaos. John Brooks didn’t know who to listen to; his head was buzzing.

He stared fixedly at Ethan Sullivan, so shocked he almost died on the spot. It was too unexpected, too terrifying—this guy was actually Ethan Sullivan!

That meant he had gotten into Ethan Sullivan’s car by mistake, chatted with Ethan Sullivan all nonchalant, repeatedly bragged to Ethan Sullivan about being the male lead, and even mistook Ethan Sullivan for a balding middle-aged man.

John Brooks went from disbelief to shock, then from shock to terror.

He stood there, feeling miserable, like a newborn puppy that had wandered into a wolf’s den—afraid to speak, afraid to move.

Ethan Sullivan still wore that half-smile, half-serious look, body turned slightly, chin raised. When the laughter finally died down, he spoke again, simply calling out, “Male lead.”

John Brooks stammered perfectly, “T-Teacher Qu.”

Ethan Sullivan repeated the question from the restroom: “Do I not look like a screenwriter?”

John Brooks broke out in a sweat and replied, “Y-You totally do.”

Ethan Sullivan continued, “Want to be Best Actor?”

John Brooks’s face turned bright red: “N-Not necessarily.”

William Carter couldn’t hold it in anymore, leaning back in his chair and laughing out loud. Everyone else burst into laughter again.

Director Thompson said, “Xiao Lu, now you’ve met the real scriptwriter Qu.”

John Brooks: “Mm…”

Director Thompson asked, “So do you still think scriptwriter Qu looks like your father?”

John Brooks’s face went from pale to red and back again. He didn’t even need to answer—everyone else was already laughing their heads off. William Carter choked for a moment, then instinctively glanced at Ethan Sullivan to see his reaction.