"Mr. Williams?" a woman asked, handing over a list.
"All the rooms have been deep-cleaned, and the pool water has been filtered. You can move in at any time."
Landon thanked her and watched as the housekeeper drove away. Only then did he turn to face the house that belonged to him—at least for the foreseeable future.
The pale yellow exterior walls glowed warmly in the sunlight, and the red tiled roof was a common architectural style in Southern California.
The leaves of the olive trees swayed gently in the breeze, as if welcoming their arrival.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
Without furniture in the way, the empty rooms appeared even brighter and more spacious.
Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading large patches of light across the wooden floors.
The faint lemon scent of cleaning supplies still lingered in the air.
"Wow—" Rachel was the first to rush in. She spun around barefoot on the living room floor, her crisp laughter echoing in the high-ceilinged space. "The floor is so smooth!"
Tracy appeared much more restrained, but the smile at the corners of her mouth betrayed her true feelings.
She walked slowly through the living room, her fingers lightly brushing the window frames and the curves of the porch, as if confirming the reality of it all through touch.
"Let's assign the rooms first," she said. "The moving company will be here with the furniture and luggage soon."
The master bedroom naturally belonged to Landon. The room was spacious, with an en-suite bathroom and a small balcony; opening the glass door revealed a corner of the backyard pool.
Rachel chose a south-facing room on the second floor, with a window directly facing the olive trees in the front yard.
Tracy chose the room next to Landon's, with the very valid reason that it was close to the study and convenient for work.
But all three knew full well that those rooms would likely mostly be used for storing clothes.
By noon, the luggage and a few essential pieces of furniture had been settled in.
The three hungry people decided to order pizza to celebrate.
"I want double cheese!" Rachel shouted, raising her hand.
"Vegetable salad," Tracy added, then glanced at Rachel. "You need to watch your diet, Rachel."
Then, Landon saw Rachel pitifully hugging Tracy. "I know, I know, just this once!"
When the pizza arrived, the three of them sat cross-legged on the empty living room floor to eat, with the cardboard boxes spread out and soda cans bubbling.
Sunlight streamed in, and dust motes danced slowly in the beams of light.
"We should buy some plants," Rachel said indistinctly, her mouth full of pizza.
"The backyard is so big, we could plant some flowers. And for the living room, a large green plant here would look great."
"We also need to buy some kitchenware," Tracy said, wiping her fingers with a napkin.
"We can't always eat takeout. I can make pasta and salad; I can teach you."
Listening to them chatter back and forth, Landon felt that surge of warmth again.
After lunch, Tracy checked her phone and suddenly stood up. "I'm going out for a bit; I have something to take care of."
"Do you need me to come along?" Landon asked.
"No," she said, picking up her car keys. "You two start tidying up; I'll be back soon."
She drove off in her Mercedes-Benz S-Class.
Landon and Rachel continued unpacking, hanging clothes in the closet and placing books on a temporary bookshelf made from cardboard boxes.
During breaks in their work, Rachel would suddenly hug him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.
Or while he was organizing boxes, she would sneak a kiss on his earlobe.
These small gestures were as natural as if they had lived this way for a long time.
Around four in the afternoon, Tracy returned.
The car pulled slowly into the garage, and when she got out, she had several paper bags and a magazine in her hands.
"I went back to get some changes of clothes," she said, handing the paper bags to Landon and then tossing over the magazine. "And this, it just came out."
It was the sample issue of Marie Claire.
On the cover, Landon wore a simple white shirt and leaned against a window.
Sunlight shone in from the side, gilding him in a soft golden glow.
He tilted his head slightly, his deep gaze fixed on the camera, with a faint, elusive smile playing on his lips.
The smile was clean and bright, yet it held a hint of elusive melancholy—as if he knew he was standing at a turning point, filled with both anticipation and unease.
Beside him was a striking headline: "Rising Star: Landon Williams—From 'canned food hero' to Hollywood's New Darling."
Landon stared at himself on the cover, feeling a strange sense of detachment.
The person in the photo was him, yet not entirely him.
It was an image shaped collectively by the lens, lighting, styling, and post-production—a public version of "Landon Williams."
"It's a good photo," Rachel leaned in to look. "But the real person is even more handsome."
Tracy didn't say anything, just gestured for him to open the magazine.
The inside pages featured more photos.
One showed him in a white tank top, his abs faintly visible, giving the camera a slightly mischievous smile—it was a moment the photographer had captured during a break, and he hadn't expected it to be used.
There were several more lifestyle shots: him sitting in a chair reading, looking back while walking on the street, and a profile of him tilting his head back to drink water.
Under each photo was a brief caption, and in the middle was an exclusive interview.
Landon sat down cross-legged and began to read the interview.
The article opened by mentioning the "canned food hero" incident—using a short paragraph to describe what happened at the convenience store that day, praising his "Heroic courage and gentlemanly demeanor."
Then the tone shifted to the main topic: this courageous young man was no ordinary citizen, but an up-and-coming actor.
The reporter detailed his current projects: playing the key role of Tony Almeida in the hit Fox series "24 hours," appearing as the important supporting character Charles in the Ron Howard-directed "A Beautiful Mind," and the Delmont commercial that had just aired.
"I asked him if these opportunities were coming too fast," the reporter wrote.
"Landon thought for a moment and replied: 'In Hollywood, fast and slow are relative concepts. Some people wait ten years and never get an opportunity, while others get everything overnight and lose it in an instant."
All I can do is seize every role in front of me and take every performance seriously.'"
The article also quoted Tracy's evaluation as his Agent:
"Landon has a rare quality—he craves success, yet he doesn't want to be trapped by it.
He enjoys the process of performing itself, not just the result. This is very precious in a young actor."
The interview concluded with that eternal question: Expectations for the future?
"I hope that in five years, when people mention Landon Williams, they don't think of 'that lucky newcomer,' but rather 'that actor who always brings surprises.'"
The article ended with this quote: "As for the further future? I'll focus on acting well today first."
Landon closed the magazine and remained silent for a long time. The living room was quiet, with only the occasional sound of birds outside and the faint noise of cars on the distant street.
"It's written quite objectively," Tracy said, sitting down beside him. "It's not intentionally sensationalist, nor is it overly flattering. This kind of balance is rare in entertainment reporting."
"They mentioned 'canned food hero'," Landon said. "I thought that matter was already behind us."
"In the eyes of the media, a good story is never truly 'over'," Tracy's tone was calm.
"It has already become part of your public image. What's important is how to guide the narrative—from an accidental event to your professional competence and career path. This interview did a good job."
Rachel leaned in from the other side, her head resting on Landon's shoulder. "Will we become famous, Landon?"
"I don't know," he said honestly, "but at least for now, there are roles to play, a place to live," he paused, "and I have you both by my side."
Tracy held Landon's hand, while Rachel more directly hugged his arm.
The three of them sat quietly like that, watching the sunlight move slowly across the living room floor, gradually turning from bright and dazzling to a warm amber.