“Haha, hahaha.”
Looking at Anson's carefree smile, Lucas felt a little relieved. It seemed that the past few months of Hollywood life hadn't been too hard on his younger brother. He was still the same as he remembered, even a bit more cheerful.
Perhaps, being an actor wasn't such a bad idea after all.
While Lucas's thoughts were swirling, Anson stuffed two more potato chips into his mouth. Just as the bag was about to be empty and he was feeling regretful, Lucas actually pulled another bag out of his briefcase.
Seeing the surprised expression on Anson's face, Lucas only said one thing, "Last bag."
He warned him with his eyes, but still opened the bag of chips and handed it over.
The smile in Anson's eyes overflowed. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"
Lucas's face darkened. "You're asking me? You came to San Francisco without giving me a call. If Uncle Darren hadn't mentioned it inadvertently, were you planning to continue hiding? It's fine if you don't call usually, but you didn't even meet up when you came to the city. I don't know what Mom will say."
"If I hadn't shown up, you were probably planning to sneak back to Los Angeles, right?"
"Image! Luca, image!" Seeing that Lucas was about to start a tirade he couldn't stop, Anson quickly reminded him, but while he said that, he didn't stop his actions, stuffing two more potato chips into his mouth, his expression like a spectator enjoying a good show, not even trying to hide it.
Lucas was speechless for a moment. "You think I'm like you, paying attention to my image all the time."
Despite saying that, Lucas took a deep breath and controlled himself.
After a pause, Lucas looked at Anson again, ultimately unable to control his worry. "Do you have enough money?"
Lucas Wood, twenty-four years old this year, works at a venture capital firm in Silicon Valley. He is highly capable and was recently promoted to Director of Venture Capital at the beginning of the year. But obviously, Lucas doesn't plan to work under others forever; he is currently just accumulating experience, waiting for an opportunity to start his own business.
Regarding Anson's sudden desire to become an actor, despite his worries, Lucas didn't say much, and transferred money into Anson's account every few days.
In Lucas's opinion, the reason Anson hadn't called or sent any messages recently was simple: his acting career wasn't going well, his confidence had been shaken, and he was too embarrassed to tell his family.
So, he simply stopped contacting them.
Traveling from Silicon Valley to San Francisco is only a half-hour drive. They were so close, yet Anson came to San Francisco for work and didn't call Lucas for a whole week, which was simply unimaginable.
So, Lucas simply came over himself.
To this, Anson said—
Thank God.
Originally, Anson was worried about revealing his true colors, because the soul inside this skin had already changed. Darren and his roommates were one thing, since they weren't that familiar, but family was another matter.
Anson thought that after he had fully adapted, after his memories had completely merged, and after he had completely gotten used to those habits, he would contact his family to avoid arousing their suspicions, and then he would have to come up with a series of excuses to cover it up.
Or, he could simply create some distance and become estranged, which wouldn't matter, because deep down, he didn't think of them as his family.
He hadn't expected Lucas to come knocking first.
But now it seemed that in their short meeting, Lucas hadn't noticed anything unusual. The period of buffering and adaptation had been a great help.
And Anson himself was the same. When he actually met Lucas, that feeling of closeness and familiarity naturally merged with his soul.
Right, not enough, of course the more the better.
But the words that naturally came out from the depths of his soul were another matter entirely.
"Didn't you hear Uncle Darren say? This is already my second job."
Anson was startled, surprised by his own words, and also surprised by his naturalness. Some habits of brothers getting along, seamlessly integrated into conditioned reflexes, made the smile on Anson's lips a little more helpless.
But the amazing thing was, this feeling... wasn't bad.
Lucas nodded. "Yeah, I heard. Uncle Darren said you're doing well." After a pause, he continued, "So, is it enough?"
Anson was slightly stunned, and a faint warmth slowly filled his chest, like cotton candy.
Unexpectedly, at a moment he hadn't anticipated, the fortress he had built up layer upon layer cracked a small opening.
In his previous life, he had gotten used to being alone.
Working alone, eating alone, living alone, carrying burdens alone, bearing everything alone, he had long been accustomed to it all.
At the age of twenty-five, his life was completely overturned.
His father's booming business suddenly exploded, revealing that it was actually a "Ponzi scheme." The victims collectively filed a lawsuit against his father in court; but unexpectedly, before the trial, his father fled and disappeared.
It wasn't until then that his mother told him that although they had divorced a few years ago, all of the family's fixed assets had been mortgaged by his father to the bank, and his mother thought that his father only needed it for business and didn't ask much.
The family that everyone had envied was shattered overnight, leaving nothing behind. He saw the bank seals that he had only seen on TV for the first time.
Before that, he was also a bright and cheerful campus figure, full of dreams and a future, laughing freely and running wildly in the sun, entering the TV station after graduation to start his life.
Overnight, everything was overturned.
Because the culprit had escaped, the victims turned their attention to him, even though his father and mother had divorced seven years ago, but in the eyes of the victims, the divorce was just a smokescreen. They condemned him as his father's accomplice, condemned him for assisting his father in escaping legal sanctions, and condemned him as a devil who used the victims' hard-earned money.
Condemned by thousands.
He didn't know.
Really, he didn't know anything, completely unaware of his father's affairs.
However, this didn't matter.
He couldn't refute it, and couldn't refute it, and could only endure it silently.
After experiencing severe cyberbullying, the TV station was forced to fire him under pressure.
He left, like a stray dog.
In the past, when he saw scenes of throwing stinky eggs and rotten tomatoes in TV dramas, he always felt that it was too bloody and too exaggerated, and that it was impossible for it to happen in real life.
It wasn't until he experienced it himself that he realized that all artistic creations came from life, and he couldn't resist, he had no position or right to resist. Looking at the faces of the victims distorted by anger and collapsed by despair, he couldn't blame them.
He needed to bear the weight of life.
Mother?
His mother also didn't understand. She had never worked and had no skills, but now she had to leave home and go to the construction site to cook large pots of meals for the workers, starting from scratch and rebuilding their lives with her own hands.
Whether he was willing or not, from the moment his father fled, that invisible, heavy guilt was the shadow he had to carry forward.
Grown up overnight.
From that time on, he got used to being alone, relying entirely on himself.
More than once, in short moments of respite, he looked up at the sky in the gaps between the tall buildings, thinking about whether everything could be overturned and restarted, and have a brand new beginning, but he didn't expect it to really happen.
Fifth update.
