Chapter 141: The Acting Academy**

Emptiness.

Abruptly halted, like slamming on the brakes.

It felt as though he wasn't mentally prepared. The filming ended, the crew disbanded on the spot, and then… nothing followed. It all felt rushed, like there was a missing period at the end of a sentence.

If he just went home like this, it would feel as if he still had to get up on time the next morning and report to Burbank to continue filming something that didn't even exist. That feeling of emptiness lingered, hard to shake off.

The entire "The Princess Diaries" project was like that—starting suddenly, with no warning that he'd land the role; ending just as suddenly, no different from any regular workday. Was it normal to feel like a "dismissed office worker"?

Anson thought, maybe he should do something, like—

Surfing.

He liked the sea, always had a strange affinity for the ocean. Just quietly gazing at the sea, even without doing anything, just feeling the vastness, the boundlessness, the waves, the horizon where the sea meets the sky—it calmed his mind, clearing all thoughts.

He wanted to try surfing, standing on the crest of a wave, using his body to collide with the ocean's depth and grandeur, soaring between the wind and the water.

But every time, he stopped at the point of imagining it, never taking action.

Now was the perfect time—a bit of impulsiveness, and seizing the opportunity could turn it into reality.

Looking ahead, he identified the direction, trying to find the road to Santa Monica Pier. Unintentionally, he caught a glimpse of a sign out of the corner of his eye.

Then.

Ninety seconds later, Anson was standing in front of a dark brown two-story building, looking up at the neat black lettering on the side.

"Los Angeles Academy of Performing Arts."

His eyes couldn't help but reveal a hint of excitement, and the emptiness in his chest was instantly filled. An eager excitement surged from the void, making his steps and body feel lighter.

On set, observing Julie's performance up close, all those exchanges, discussions, and reflections had settled within him, eventually becoming his own. But without learning and practice, it was still just an empty shell.

Initially, it was just a thought, but after seeing this building, it turned into a strong interest. Without hesitation, he changed his direction and made this his new destination.

Without delay, Anson climbed the steps and pushed open the dark brown door, stepping into a space dominated by beige and light brown wood tones. Though quiet, there was an energy in the air—

Some singing, some lines, some laughter—all faintly leaked through the soundproof walls, subtly stirring in the space.

Even though he could only see a hallway lined with tightly closed doors of practice rooms, with no way of knowing what was happening inside, he could still feel the vitality quietly overflowing.

At the reception desk, a slender young man was consulting with a staff member. Anson didn't rush forward but instead took a seat nearby, waiting patiently.

But to his surprise, just as he sat down, before he had a chance to assess whether the chair was comfortable, whether the sofa was filled with foam or springs, the young man had already finished his consultation and turned around.

"… Thank you, I'll think about it."

Still looking at the pamphlet in his hands, he lowered his head and walked in Anson's direction.

It looked like he intended to sit down and think things over, heading straight for Anson. Anson quickly stepped aside to avoid him, and the young man only then noticed the shadow passing by.

"Oh, sorry." He looked up at Anson, his eyes unusually deep and large, accentuated by his gaunt face.

"Oh my God, I shouldn't have been distracted, I'm sorry, really sorry."

Not just his words and expression, but his hands reflexively reached out as if Anson were a fragile glass doll that would shatter with a touch, cautiously protecting him on both sides.

His behavior was amusing.

It was just a small matter, after all. They hadn't even touched, not even brushed against each other. But such a formal apology made the situation more serious than it was, drawing the receptionist's attention as well.

Anson found it both funny and exasperating. He glanced at the young man and couldn't help but want to make a joke, the words slipping out effortlessly.

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"If an apology were enough, then what would we need the police for?"

The young man paused, standing upright as he scratched his head. He smiled, a bit shy and awkward, but not as flustered or fearful as one might expect. It seemed he caught the humor and playful tone behind Anson's words.

"Right, that does make sense. So, what should I do?"

Anson was momentarily surprised, but a smile flashed in his eyes. With a serious expression, he said, "I need to assess the damage."

The young man looked Anson up and down, struggling to suppress his own smile. He managed to keep a straight face and asked, just as seriously, "Where?"

But before he could finish speaking, the smile broke through, reaching the corners of his eyes. He couldn't hold it in any longer. Realizing his laughter might seem inappropriate, he quickly waved his hands and said sincerely, "Sorry… Haha, sorry…"

Anson was still one step ahead. Though he wanted to laugh, he kept a sorrowful expression and gently shook his head. "This is secondary harm. The emotional damage might cost five million dollars."

At this point, if the young man hadn't caught on to Anson's joke, he'd truly be a bit slow.

Realizing he'd overreacted, the young man understood that Anson was helping ease the situation. What could have been an awkward moment was now defused with ease.

"Whew, thank you." The young man let out a long breath, patting his chest. "I just had to settle a fifty-million-dollar claim, so I can't really afford that much cash right now. Thankfully, your claim didn't reach seven figures."

Anson responded in a mock-serious tone, "Hallelujah."

The young man's smile fully bloomed. Without continuing the jokes, he introduced himself, "Jack."

Anson nodded slightly in acknowledgment and simply responded, "Anson."

The atmosphere was now comfortable.

It took less than thirty seconds to go from strangers to acquaintances. Just like that, the two of them naturally connected.

This young Jack might not be as famous as the Jack from "Titanic," but he was certainly a rising star among young actors of his generation—

Jake Gyllenhaal.

If Anson remembered correctly, Jake had just turned twenty this year. Still young, still a bit green, but no longer an unknown face.

In fact, Jake came from an acting family in Los Angeles:

His father was a director, and his mother was a producer and screenwriter—his mother even earned an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay for her 1988 film "Running on Empty." Jake's sister, Maggie Gyllenhaal, was also an actress.

Moreover, Jamie Lee Curtis, known for her role in "True Lies," was Jake's godmother, and the Newman family were close friends with his family.

Last year, at the age of nineteen, Jake's impressive performance in "October Sky" brought him into the public eye and earned him nominations for several youth awards.

To be honest, Anson was a bit surprised to see Jake at the acting academy. However, Jake seemed to have similar thoughts.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you here?"

One after the other, they spoke in unison.

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