Hollywood: Star Kid

In his previous life, Ryan had attended singer autograph events before. Those young pop stars, though not very famous, all carried an air of arrogance. Each one mechanically scribbled their names on album covers, barely interacting with fans. To them, selling albums was just about selling albums.

Fame and fan support need to be carefully cultivated. As he watched the long line gradually moving toward him, Ryan shook his wrist, ready to fight a prolonged battle, though his face remained brightly smiling the entire time.

The first person in line soon arrived at the signing table—a boy around sixteen years old. From his messy hair and dark circles under his eyes, it was obvious he hadn't just started queuing today.

"Hello, thanks for the support!" Ryan took the album and flamboyantly signed his name on it, smiling as he asked, "Can you tell me your name? When did you get here?"

"Oh, Nick… Nick Maravich." The boy was dazed for a moment, then pointed to another boy behind him. "The two of us arrived yesterday evening and took turns standing in line."

"Thanks, Nick. I'll remember you." Ryan extended his hand, and the boy eagerly stepped up to shake it, unable to hide his excitement.

"Alright, Nick. This is the first album I've ever signed as a singer." Ryan deliberately added 'no.1' after his signature.

"Whoa~" Nick let out an excited shriek.

It was only then that everyone realized—wasn't this the very first album Ryan Jenkins had ever signed? And he'd personally marked it. The commemorative value was beyond words.

Everyone's eyes turned red with envy as they looked at Nick. If not for the fact that their idol was sitting right in front of them, and there were staff members maintaining order on both sides, they would've rushed forward and snatched the album to keep as the most precious souvenir.

"I'll treasure this album forever. Thank you, Ryan! I'll always support you!" Nick practically bounced back to the merchandise table, shouting, "Quick! I want another album! No, no, I want five! One for Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Grandma—each gets one!"

No one found that strange. If possible, they'd gladly trade ten… no, a hundred albums for the one Nick had just gotten.

Ryan's signing speed wasn't fast—in fact, it was a bit slow. He didn't care much about the number of albums sold at the event. What he valued more was interacting with the fans. After signing each one, he would usually exchange a few words. At the very least, he'd say something like "Thank you for your support," or "You guys are my biggest motivation for creating."

Moreover, he didn't just sign names. After each signature, he'd often write a short blessing, and he tried to avoid repeating phrases. Fortunately, thanks to years of writing, he had accumulated a vast vocabulary and wouldn't run out of things to say so easily.

To be honest, Ryan had amassed a huge fan base over the past two years, the majority of whom were teenagers. These young people were highly receptive to new things and could easily turn into devoted fans.

In particular, his image of daring to stand up to oppression and fight back had great appeal to the younger generation.

Male fans were easier to deal with—maybe due to gender—they mostly just shook hands or patted him on the arm even when excited. But the crazy teenage girls were a different matter. And this was New York, one of the most open-minded places in North America. The requests they made were all sorts of wild.

Ryan had just finished signing an album when its owner suddenly tugged down her low-neck sweater, revealing a patch of snow-white skin.

The girl had a sweet and fresh look, but the words she spoke totally clashed with her appearance. Pointing to her pink bra, she said, "Ryan, can you sign here for me?"

She even blinked innocently after saying that.

"…" Ryan was speechless. Thankfully, the staff was quick-witted and took the girl aside, persuading her to leave.

Her behavior seemed to encourage others. Soon, another girl made an inappropriate request.

"Ryan, my name is Lilith…"

"Lilith, alright. Nice to meet you!" Ryan was starting to realize these female fans were the scariest. He quickly scribbled, "Wishing you beauty like an angel."

After receiving the signed album, Lilith didn't leave. Instead, she timidly asked, "R-Ryan, c-can I kiss you?"

"A kiss…" Ryan subconsciously rubbed his cheek and glanced behind the girl. He seemed to spot several others with green lights flashing in their eyes—female wolves on the prowl. "Sorry, not allowed!"

Lilith turned and left, slightly disappointed. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, but when he saw the line filled with far more girls than boys, he realized this was going to be a tough ordeal.

Older men love lolis, and mature women adore pretty boys—the first idea had long been popularized thanks to Lolita, and while the second hadn't fully formed yet, it was already on the way.

But Western girls matured early, and these fifteen- or sixteen-year-olds were at their most fanatical stage. In their eyes, Ryan was no doubt a just-beginning-to-bloom shota—one who was full of talent and stunningly handsome.

Fine. You won't sign on our bras, and you won't let us kiss you? Then if a frontal assault won't work, we'll just go for sneak attacks.

Soon enough, a bold girl showed the others how it was done.

She was a tall and sexy blonde, about sixteen years old. While Ryan was focused on signing an album, she suddenly leaned across the table, using her height advantage, and—if she even knew what that phrase meant—kissed him swiftly on the cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark.

"You…" By the time Ryan realized what had happened, it was too late. He rubbed his face, eyes wide open—what the hell, did I just get groped in public? Is there no justice left in the world?

"Thank you, Ryan! My name is Charlie!" The girl seemed unsatisfied and tried to lean in again.

The stunned staff finally snapped out of it and quickly pulled her aside. Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically and cursed in his heart—Charlie? More like Charles I, if you ask me!

The power of example was strong. Every girl that came afterward seemed eager to give it a try. Ryan, in turn, raised his vigilance. If every female fan kissed his face, he'd surely end up looking like a pig head.

But while there may be a thousand ways to be a thief, there's no way to guard against them all. Some sneak attackers still succeeded from time to time. Luckily, Kinsley seemed well prepared and always wiped off the lipstick marks from his face immediately.

George, meanwhile, took up a spot by the table. His handsome face drew a lot of attention, and Ryan occasionally overheard girls whispering, "Wow, who's that? He's even more handsome than Tom Cruise!"

"Tom Cruise? Who's that? Don't mention him here—he's our enemy!" one of her companions warned.

The girl immediately covered her mouth, realizing everyone around her was glaring.

"Looks like Ryan's bodyguard. Wow, not only is Ryan himself super hot, even his bodyguard is dreamy! I love him so much!"

"I have to get him to sign on my lingerie!"

Ryan's face began to darken, but just then, another unexpected event occurred. Under everyone's gaze, a middle-aged man carrying a heavy backpack stepped up to the signing table. He placed an album on the table, then opened his backpack and pulled out one novel after another.

"Ryan, I have three kids, and they're all your fans… and book fans too." That last part sounded questionable. "They've always wanted your signature, but you've never held a book-signing event, so I had to bring these here. You don't mind, do you?"

Mind? Ryan honestly didn't mind much. But the staff from Hollywood Records looked awkward—especially John Burns. If this weren't a public setting, he would've stormed up there and shoved the books back in the guy's bag and kicked him out.

What was this even? It was clearly sabotaging the event—at least that's how John saw it. Hmm… once this is over, I need to push Ryan to focus more on his music!

The signing event lasted nearly three and a half hours. It was real physical labor. Even with Ryan's physical stamina, he still felt exhausted, and his wrist was numb with soreness. Luckily, he was skilled with a pen—this was just a minor issue for him.

In over three hours, he signed fewer than 2,000 albums. The efficiency was indeed low, but the fans who received signatures were satisfied. They didn't just get Ryan's autograph—they also got to exchange a few words with their idol. That far exceeded their expectations.

As for those who didn't get signatures, the record company had prepared small gifts in advance. Not expensive, but enough to win over hearts.

On his way to the break room, Ryan kept rubbing his face. All in all, four or five sneak attacks had landed successfully.

He felt like his face was about to turn into a pig head.

Thankfully, he was still underage. God only knew what kind of insane fans he might attract once he grew up. Even a single one of those could be too much to handle.

"I think I have to wear a mask at the next signing," Ryan grumbled.

"Darling, that just shows how popular you are," Kinsley said, laughing uncontrollably. In her eyes, Ryan was being too conservative—those girls were just behaving normally.

"Ryan, next time we must specify that we're only signing albums!" Burns said with a headache, covering his forehead. "Oh God, when I saw them pulling those books out of their bags, I wanted to throw them out!"

"Alright, John, maybe you should go ask the Alien Entity publisher for sponsorship money," Ryan muttered, still troubled by the crazy female fans. "Pat, what if next time they lift up their skirts and ask me to sign on their underwear?"

Now that a serious Problem!