"It's not just about marketing with Edgar. I think he genuinely believes you have a chance."
Amid the swirling rumors, Lucas seized on the core idea.
"Just imagine, why not?"
"Hasn't it been thirty, maybe forty years since the last 007 film? They've always stuck to the same type, the same style, maintaining the brand image. That's a good thing."
"But at the same time, the audience has changed. Viewers today have higher standards for genre films, and their tastes are more demanding. If 007 doesn't evolve, it could lose its market, stagnating like a pond losing its vitality."
"The Sherlock Holmes films haven't been updated for years, have they?"
"If the production team is smart, they should break the mold at the right time and inject fresh energy into the series."
"I believe you're their chance, and Edgar probably thinks so too."
At least, from a theoretical standpoint, it made sense.
Anson put down his paint palette and looked at Lucas with surprise, his face lighting up with interest. "Since when do you care about movies?"
Lucas didn't even lift an eyelid. "Since you became an actor."
Anson was at a loss for words.
Lucas continued, "At its core, movies are also business."
Anson protested, "Oh, that's not romantic at all. Movies are art. Art!"
Lucas responded, "Art still needs to make money. If no one notices the art, it's as if no one values it. Do you want to end up like Van Gogh?"
Anson spread his hands, looking defeated. "You've destroyed all my romantic fantasies. Now I feel like I'm drenched in greed."
Obviously, it was a joke.
Lucas gave a mock tip of his hat.
Anson burst into laughter. "By the way, why are you here? What about your job? God, if I were your boss, I would've fired you by now."
Lucas replied, "You wouldn't have had to. I quit."
Anson: …
Anson blinked, his first reaction was that Lucas was joking, but after scrutinizing him closely, he realized Lucas was serious.
"Wait, why?"
Lucas said, "Differences in our visions."
Anson snorted. "Is that a divorce statement? Why are you being so casual about it?"
Lucas remained calm. "When people come together, they eventually part ways. Partnerships end. It's part of life. There's no need to make a fuss about it."
Anson felt the breath catch in his chest and rolled his eyes. "Do Mom and Dad know?"
Lucas replied, "They haven't asked."
It was so absurd that Anson laughed. "If I hadn't asked, you wouldn't have said anything, would you?"
Lucas retorted, "Do you tell us every time you land or miss a project?"
Anson widened his eyes. "From now on, I definitely will."
Lucas shrugged, "But I don't want to hear it."
Anson: …
After a brief moment of shock, Anson calmed down a bit. "When did this happen?"
Lucas answered casually, "A while ago."
Anson asked, "Wait, was it because of me?"
Lucas was about to answer.
Anson shook his head, "Don't brush me off. When I was in the hospital, you were hanging around like an unemployed drifter. Did that cause problems with your company?"
"Lucas, is that what happened?"
Lucas remained silent.
Anson couldn't hold back, "Damn it! Damn, damn, damn!"
He looked up at Lucas, complex emotions swirling in his chest, eventually turning into a helpless smile tugging at his lips. "So, what's next? What's your plan?"
Lucas stayed composed, "You don't need to worry about me."
"Remember? I went to Silicon Valley all by myself back in the day, started from scratch, and wasn't afraid of anything. It's still the same now."
"Besides, now I have you, don't I? My little brother has grown up, and the funds you invested with me are still in good hands."
He paused, then added, "I'm planning to head to Los Angeles."
Anson raised an eyebrow. "Why not just come to Malibu? I'll take care of you."
Anson originally meant it as a joke, teasing Lucas, but to his surprise, Lucas nodded lightly. "That's actually the plan for the first six months. I've already moved my stuff in while I get settled."
Anson: ?
After a moment's thought, Anson said, "Lucas, be honest. Is Noah the spy you planted to keep an eye on me?" He looked dead serious.
Lucas glanced at Anson. "I thought you just invited me to Malibu."
"An invite's an invite, but you went ahead without asking. Something's off here."
"As long as the outcome's the same, does it matter?"
"No, no, no. The sequence of events matters. You're feeling guilty, which is why you came all the way to Columbus to apologize, right?"
The brothers continued to bicker, neither willing to back down, volleying playful insults back and forth.
After sunset, Lucas and Anson left the studio. Instead of driving, they walked to a nearby restaurant in the fading glow of twilight.
It was a modest Italian family restaurant with no fancy dishes but a warm, cozy atmosphere.
The chef, also the owner, claimed the recipes were passed down from his grandmother, authentic Italian home cooking.
The grandmother was the restaurant's original chef, working until she physically couldn't anymore and was forced into retirement. Now, the owner had taken over, but the elderly woman still visited regularly to supervise, chatting with customers in Italian.
Anson shared a small glass of wine with the grandmother, while Lucas sat quietly, watching his younger brother mingle effortlessly with everyone in the restaurant.
After dinner, the Wood brothers continued their stroll through the city, eventually stopping at a grocery store to buy a bunch of things.
Lucas pretended not to notice when Anson sneakily tucked three extra bags of chips into the cart, despite already buying five bags openly.
It wasn't until they reached the checkout that Anson, feeling guilty, confessed, and Lucas silently allowed it, making Anson cheer with joy.
With bags of groceries in hand, the brothers made their way back to the studio, which had a second floor complete with bedrooms, a bathroom, and a guest room—everything Anson needed for his stay.
Back at the studio, Lucas mixed cocktails while Anson lounged on the backyard sofa, counting stars. A cool breeze brushed against his face, his muscles relaxed, and with a soda and a bag of chips, life felt simple and sweet.
"...That's your second bag already. At this rate, you won't have any left by tomorrow night," Lucas observed with mild exasperation, eyeing the empty chip bag beside Anson.
Anson waved it off, grabbing the cocktail from Lucas, and casually changed the subject.
Lucas didn't press the issue further. He sat down next to Anson, letting the moonlight wash over him as he gradually relaxed.
It wasn't until Anson's calm voice broke the silence that Lucas tensed up, "Lucas, you leaving the company and heading to Los Angeles—it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, was it?"
There was a certainty hidden behind Anson's calm tone, one that struck Lucas like a lightning bolt, momentarily freezing him in place.