The Box Office King of Hollywood

Matthew hid in a booth in the rest area, watching Michael Sheen intently. He immediately noticed a stark change in Michael as he exited the elevator; his posture and walk had transformed entirely.

When he had gone up, Michael Sheen had been upright, striding confidently.

As he emerged from the elevator, Michael's back was slightly hunched, and his steps were oddly wide, each leg forming an exaggerated bow as he walked.

Matthew had seen this peculiar walk before. Once, on a construction site on the other side of the Pacific, a coworker had been impaled in the buttocks by a steel bar and had walked in a similar manner.

"Did he hurt his butt?" Matthew shuddered at the thought, quickly halting his wild conjectures. The images that had flashed through his mind were too horrifying to even consider. He muttered, "Sacrificed for the sake of art, huh."

"Sir, you..."

A voice carried over, and Matthew looked up to see Michael Sheen entering the hotel lobby, his unusual gait drawing the attention of a waiter who approached him with genuine concern. "Do you need help?"

"No! No!" Michael Sheen waved his hands dismissively, anxious not to give away what had happened. "I'm fine."

He made his way to the hotel's revolving door and left the building.

Matthew changed seats to avoid being seen by Michael through the glass curtain wall, but he kept his eyes on him.

Michael crossed the street, leaned against a lamppost, and tried to look at his buttocks, his expression a mix of pain and excitement.

Matthew scratched his head, certain that something had transpired between Michael and Martin Jackson.

"The pain is probably physical," he speculated, "and the excitement must be about the role."

It seemed Michael Sheen had secured a promise from Martin Jackson for the male lead in the MV.

"Is this the shortcut to success in Hollywood?"

Matthew sighed softly, withdrawing his gaze from Michael Sheen, feeling a momentary dip in spirits. Perhaps if he struggled in Los Angeles for several more years without finding a breakthrough, he might make a similar choice...

"No!" Matthew shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not!"

He knew he was no more noble than Michael Sheen, possibly even more calculating and underhanded, but compromising in such a way was not an option. He might have a very low personal standard, but he did have limits. If forced to choose between selling himself and living in poverty, he'd choose poverty.

"As for noble morality, those who stick to that in showbiz deserve to never make it."

"Despicable people progress on the path to fame, while the noble die at the starting point..."

Matthew muttered to himself and looked back at Michael Sheen, who was now out of sight.

The lamplight illuminated the path ahead as Michael Sheen, supporting himself against the glass wall of a store, walked slowly forward with an awkward gait.

He was moving with difficulty, not just walking but standing still brought him searing pain, tempting him to see a proctologist.

But he couldn't do that; this type of injury was too embarrassing to explain.

Yet, the pain didn't bring him down. Amidst the intense discomfort, Michael Sheen's lips curled into a smirk of excitement.

Director Martin Jackson had promised him the male lead in Britney Spears' MV!

That was what he wanted.

Michael Sheen leaned against another lamppost, looking up at the sky, seeing light in the darkness.

Despite the excitement barely masking the pain in his buttocks, he felt it was all worth it, even feeling a secret thrill.

Unfortunately, with so many people passing by, not one knew him, leaving him unable to share his joy and excitement.

Michael Sheen had endured many years for such an opportunity, desperate for the world to know he would be starring alongside Britney Spears in an MV, ready for fame!

Suddenly, Michael's mind flashed with the face of the man who called himself a friend but refused to help him.

"Matthew Horner, I'm going to get the lead role!"

Thinking about the rejection he faced on the set of "Gladiator," he felt a sense of triumphant revenge. "I'm going to beat you and get the lead role!"

Then he frowned, realizing Matthew Horner didn't know yet.

Instantly, that satisfying feeling vanished.

Michael considered for a moment and dialed Matthew's number. After a long ring, someone answered.

"Is that you, Matthew?" His tone was unusually elevated. "What are you doing?"

"On my way home." Matthew's voice came through the handset. "Where are you, Mike?"

"I'm just out for a walk!" Michael Sheen planned to reveal the news in person, eager to see Matthew's reaction at the moment. "Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I'll treat you."

"Tomorrow?" There was a pause as if the person on the other end

 was considering. "Alright, I don't have classes tomorrow. Which restaurant?"

Michael hadn't thought that far; it was a spur-of-the-moment idea. "I'll make a reservation. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

Actually, he knew he needed to rest on a soft mattress for the next few days to let his wounds heal, but he couldn't resist the urge to boast in front of his rival.

How could he relieve the frustration he felt from their encounters on the "Gladiator" set if not by showing off to Matthew?

After hanging up and pocketing his phone, Michael Sheen, enduring the tearing pain, walked on, considering how to boast without letting Matthew suspect anything about his buttocks.

The night sky was pitch-black, but the City of Angels was brightly lit. A taxi pulled up to the edge of the Westwood area, stopping at a bus stop. Matthew got out, nearing midnight. He wasn't ready to head home yet, planning to find a place for some late-night food as his stomach was growling.

This wasn't a bustling commercial area, and most stores were closed. Matthew walked along the road until he saw a restaurant sign still lit, displaying both English and traditional Chinese characters!

"How come I never noticed a Chinese restaurant here before." He mused as he entered. "Probably because I don't come to this side often."

"Hello, welcome."

The person who greeted him was a high-nosed, blue-eyed blonde woman, a sight that Matthew found slightly jarring.

In such a place, he had expected a gentle and graceful Jiangnan woman...

The restaurant was spacious, still busy with customers. Matthew chose a window seat and waited for the waiter. He ordered Kung Pao chicken and mixed fried rice, then settled in to wait.

He took the opportunity to look around; the restaurant was decorated in a typical Chinese style, the furniture distinctly different from the upholstered chairs of Western restaurants. In particular, at the back of the restaurant, there were several large round tables with matching grand armchairs, items that were common in Matthew's hometown but rarely seen since he started working.

Although the hard wooden chair beneath him felt sturdy, Matthew was slightly uncomfortable; it had been a long time since he had sat in such a chair.

When the waiter came to serve the dishes, Matthew pointed to a large round table and asked, "Can I sit over there?"

"Of course," the waiter replied amiably. "Feel free."

She helped Matthew move his dishes to the large table, and he pulled out a grand armchair to sit in, reminiscent of his childhood, commanding and bold.

"Thank you." He tipped the waiter a little extra.

Sitting there wasn't just about the meal; it was about satisfying a sense of nostalgia.

Matthew began to eat. The Kung Pao chicken and mixed fried rice had been slightly westernized to suit the local palate but still carried a familiar flavor, which made him quite hungry.

However, he hadn't finished half his bowl before he felt uncomfortable; the chair was too hard, and it had been too long since he'd last sat in such a chair, making it somewhat uncomfortable.

Shaking his head, he was about to continue eating when he remembered Michael Sheen's invitation for lunch...

He wolfed down the remaining food, then pulled out his phone and dialed Michael Sheen's number, which was quickly answered.

"Something up, Matthew?"

"Mike, didn't you invite me for lunch tomorrow? I found a great Chinese restaurant. How about I treat you, and we go have Chinese?"

There was a pause on the other end, then a reply, "Sure, see you tomorrow noon."

"Then meet me in Westwood." Matthew gave the restaurant address. "Let's meet at the restaurant at 11:30."

Michael agreed readily, and after Matthew hung up, he paid his bill and made a reservation at the front desk for a large round table, planning to treat Michael Sheen to Chinese cuisine the next day.

After sorting everything out, Matthew left the restaurant and returned to his apartment. After a shower, he lay down but couldn't fall asleep; his mind was filled with strategies on how to secure the lead role in the MV. As it approached three in the morning, he finally began to doze off with a few ideas forming.

The next morning, Matthew stuck to his routine of morning exercise, reading the newspaper, and studying books, not wasting a minute or relaxing just because he was hosting lunch.

He knew his starting point was low and his capabilities limited, so he had to work hard.

At eleven o'clock, he put down his book, dressed in formal attire, and headed to the Chinese restaurant. Unlike the previous night, the restaurant was bustling with a lunchtime crowd, and most of the tables were already occupied.

"I reserved a table last night," Matthew told the waiter, who checked with the front desk and then led him to the large round table from the night before. "Would you like

 to order now?"

Matthew gestured outside. "I'm waiting for someone. I'll call you when we're ready to order."

The waiter left, and Matthew waited patiently for Michael Sheen to arrive.