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Chapter 166: Fat Qiu Appears
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 17:23:21 +0000 UTC"Ethan, I didn't expect you to be a photographer," Jessica Alba said as she and Ethan stood by the door. Not far away, Lucas and the others were busy packing up the lights and props.
Ethan shrugged. "Chairman Charles asked me to keep my identity hidden, but in the end…"
"This isn't your fault," Jessica smiled and continued, "But it seems a lot of people have recognized you."
"Yeah, it's hard to hide my voice." Ethan glanced at her beautiful face and said, "I should thank you, though. Being associated with racial discrimination isn't exactly a good thing."
"You're definitely not racist," Jessica reassured him. After a brief silence, she asked, "Do you have plans tonight, Ethan? I mean, there's a party, and I'd like to invite you."
"I'm free," Ethan agreed readily. "But I need to have a quick word with Mr. Steven first."
"No problem. Go ahead."
After Jessica left the studio, Ethan returned to his work mode.
"Relax. That's your waist, not a plank of wood. Loosen up a bit more."
"Don't squint. Are you nearsighted? Open your eyes wider."
"Keep your hands by your sides—no unnecessary movements. Otherwise, you'll look like you have ADHD."
One by one, the stars cycled through for their photos, and Ethan's straightforward, sharp-tongued style didn't change.
After entering the venue, many of the celebrities couldn't help but talk about Ethan's biting critiques while seated, and surprisingly, they started to get used to it.
Perhaps that's just Ethan's personality—blunt and demanding.
Hollywood has its fair share of such people, but it's rare for someone without status or influence to be so openly critical. Ethan, however, had the credentials. With a movie that grossed over a hundred million dollars in box office revenue, not counting DVDs and merchandise, he had earned his place.
One day, he might direct a large-scale production, and perhaps some of the stars present would have the chance to work with him. Leaving a good impression was critical.
As the last star finished their shoot, the awards ceremony officially began in the hall.
Mr. Charles stepped onto the stage to present the awards, interspersed with fashion shows and musical performances.
When the ceremony reached its climax with the gold, silver, and bronze awards about to be announced, Charles began to introduce the presenter for the bronze award.
"Our presenter is… wait, who are you?"
Before he could finish, a man in sunglasses, a hat, and a beard emerged from backstage. His face was unrecognizable.
Everyone knew who he was, but they played along, feigning confusion.
"Aren't you the photographer? What are you doing here?" Charles asked, pretending not to know.
The man stopped, removed his hat, and pulled off his disguise.
"Wow!" The stars exaggerated their surprise.
"Ethan? Oh, haha, welcome, Ethan Norton, our presenter!"
As Charles finished, a short piece of music played, and Ethan approached the microphone.
Grinning, Ethan said, "I've been taking pictures of all of you, and I bet plenty of people wanted to strangle me."
"Hahaha!" The celebrities laughed, nodding in agreement for the cameras.
"But unfortunately, my sharp tongue isn't for show. That's just who I am," Ethan paused, then added, "So if you plan to work with me in the future, prepare yourselves—I might make you cry."
"Hahaha!"
"And for the record, I've got some dirt on many of you: how many times someone said FXXK, who dropped SHXT, or who smashed a camera… Oh, that person's not here anymore."
"Hahaha!" The stars hadn't expected Ethan to be this daring.
Looking at the camera, Ethan extended his hand. "And if you're watching this, don't forget to pay for the broken camera."
"Hahaha!" This line sent the room into fits of laughter, and even the celebrities struggled to maintain their composure.
After finishing his speech, Ethan finally moved on to the formal award presentation.
When it ended, Ethan walked backstage to his seat, which was right next to Steven Spielberg—a spot Charles had intentionally reserved for him.
The surrounding stars couldn't help but glance over at Ethan, seated beside the legendary director.
The two didn't talk during the ceremony, likely out of respect for the Fashion Designers Association. It wasn't until after the event that Steven invited Ethan to a lounge for coffee and a chat.
"Ethan, I wanted to discuss a film with you," Steven began after taking a sip of coffee.
"I've been preparing this project for years. Honestly, it's not an easy story to put into words. Have you heard of geishas?"
The term immediately triggered Ethan's memory. He recalled a movie about Japanese geishas, starring Chinese actresses and featuring English dialogue: Memoirs of a Geisha.
If he guessed correctly, that was the project Steven was referring to.
"Yes, I've heard of them," Ethan replied calmly, showing no reaction.
"What do you think geishas are?" Steven asked curiously. He didn't expect Ethan to give a profound answer, but he wanted to see if Ethan could capture the essence.
Steven was stunned by Ethan's response, his eyes widening slightly as he immersed himself in the words.
"I believe geishas are the lost souls caught between tradition and modernity. They uphold the glory of tradition, following intricate rituals and customs like a delicate piece of porcelain. Yet, as they step into the modern world, they're mercilessly crushed by progress and conflict. In my view, they're people abandoned by history."
This description resonated deeply with Steven, aligning perfectly with his vision.
"Porcelain. Yes, that's the word," Steven murmured, impressed by Ethan's precise articulation of the geisha's life.
"I didn't expect you to understand it so well," Steven praised.
Ethan smiled faintly. After all, he had seen Memoirs of a Geisha and understood its themes and messages.
"If there's a script about geishas, what role would you want?" Steven asked.
"I'd want to be the director and cinematographer," Ethan said candidly. "I believe I can handle it. I excel at capturing women, romance, hardship, and resilience. I love these themes."
"Hmm…" Steven pondered for a moment. "I see."
He seemed distracted, lost in thought.
Ethan could guess why. Memoirs of a Geisha had originally been directed by Rob Marshall, known for his work on Chicago, which showcased his talent for filming dance and physical expression.
But Ethan's skill with color was something Steven couldn't ignore.
Torn between the two, Steven said a few more words to Ethan before leaving to reassess his options.
Ethan didn't leave immediately. Instead, he called Jessica.
"Sorry, Jessica. Steven invited me for dinner. Yes, what bad timing."
"I'm in the restroom, calling you. Don't worry; Steven's very friendly."
"Alright. Have fun, and don't drink too much."
After hanging up, Ethan waited in the lounge for another 20 minutes. Once Lucas confirmed that all the stars had left, Ethan exited through a side path and drove straight to Scarlett's hotel.
Room 9021.
In the elevator, Ethan loosened his tie and checked his reflection in the metallic walls.
Satisfied, he walked to room 9021 and knocked on the door.
"Knock, knock, knock."
Footsteps approached, heavier than usual.
Ethan waited patiently. Soon, the door opened.
A large figure appeared before him.
"Hey there, handsome. Who are you looking for?" A plump woman in a wide bathrobe stood in the doorway, looking surprised and curious.
"Uh…" Ethan glanced at the door number, his face showing a hint of embarrassment. "Sorry, ma'am. I think I have the wrong room."
"Really? What's your room number?" The woman leaned closer to ask.
Ethan caught a strong scent of rose—clearly, she'd used too much rose-scented body wash.
"I'm in 9027, just down the hall," Ethan said with a polite smile, waving goodbye before leaving.
Back in the elevator, Ethan checked his phone and found a new message from Scarlett.
"This is your punishment, my dear master. If you want to get back at me, too bad—you'll have to wait until the next city."
Ethan chuckled, realizing Scarlett had played him. She must have felt a sense of urgency after the other actresses supported him at the studio.
But that's what made things interesting, wasn't it?
Ethan left the hotel without calling Jessica again. Repeated contact in a relationship was a mistake he wouldn't make. Instead, he drove back to the company.
As he entered the lobby, he saw a bespectacled, slightly chubby man of Japanese descent talking to Kane.
"Who's that?" Ethan asked the receptionist.
The receptionist immediately straightened up, adopting a professional demeanor.
"He's here for an interview, sir. His name is… Bjorn Qiu."
"Bjorn Qiu?" Ethan repeated, puzzled by the unfamiliar name.
But he didn't press further; Kane would surely brief him later.
Returning to his office, Ethan soon received a report from Kane.
"Boss, the Japanese man earlier was here for an interview for Angel Declaration."
"What's his name?" Ethan asked, leaning back in his chair.
"He's called Byo Qiu. Here's his business card." Kane handed the card to him.
Ethan took it and examined it carefully. Beneath the English name was a line of small text with his original Japanese name.
In the next moment—
"Yasushi Akimoto!"
Ethan sprang to his feet, astonished that the person he had been searching for all this time had appeared right before him!
