Chapter 191: Ambiguity in the Air

Rachel and Bond were escorted home by Tom.

When Tom returned, he held their passports in his hand.

This was a necessary precaution. After all, it would be normal for the two of them to flee. However, once they cooperated on one task and received substantial compensation, they were likely to willingly work for Ethan.

With this matter resolved, Ethan returned to the film set.

At this time, Memoirs of a Geisha was filming scenes featuring Ziyi Zhang. After completing a timid and restrained performance, the next scene to shoot was the snow dance that would make her character iconic in the movie.

Ziyi had practiced diligently for this day, rehearsing even late at night after returning to her room.

When she stepped onto the stage, her poised posture and the gentle flick of her sleeve immediately captivated everyone.

Despite receiving praise from the crew, Ziyi herself remained anxious. She glanced at Ethan, who wore a neutral expression, and her heart began to pound.

Months of strict criticism had eroded much of her confidence. After every performance, she tried to gauge its quality by observing Ethan's facial expressions.

Today was no different. Seeing his impassive face, she grew tense, held her breath, and focused solely on the music as it began to play. She danced with all her strength, holding nothing back.

The audience and crew behind the monitors synchronized their efforts with the dance, capturing each movement.

"Dun dun dun!"

The snow-drenched dance unfolded like a painting.

Rob, watching closely, exclaimed, "It's perfect, Ethan! I think the first take is already good enough."

"It's not enough," Ethan replied bluntly. "She made a misstep, and her costume didn't flow properly. It's far from ideal."

"Hey, Ethan, it feels like you're being particularly hard on her," Rob said, frowning. "She's just an actress, not a professional geisha."

"But she's portraying a professional geisha, Rob," Ethan countered. "Do you understand what a geisha represents in this film? Or what kind of character we're trying to depict for this nation?"

Ethan shook his head. "They are people unable to change their fates, trapped in a system where they are forced to compete against one another. Geishas are meticulous about details and obsessed with rituals because they have no control over their lives. The more exacting their standards, the more it reflects their desperation."

"That's why she must meet this standard—every actor must, except for John Lone."

"Why?" Rob asked, intrigued by Ethan's unique perspective.

"Because he represents capital. He is freer."

Ethan watched as Ziyi finished her dance. Picking up a megaphone, he announced emotionlessly, "Fifteen-minute break, then we do it again. Ziyi, you made three mistakes. Dance instructor, correct her."

"Understood."

Ziyi bit her lip as she watched Ethan leave, feeling wronged but suppressing her emotions. She went to revise her performance.

Fifteen minutes later, Ziyi returned to the stage.

Yet again, Ethan rejected the take and instructed her to return in thirty minutes.

This time, Ethan did not reprimand her or speak directly.

The unusual silence unsettled the crew. Although Ethan's sharp tongue was often criticized, his silence now felt even more unbearable. At least his critiques gave them clear directions for improvement.

Now, the silence made the issues seem insurmountable.

All eyes turned to Ziyi, whose growing pressure seemed on the verge of breaking her resolve.

Sensing her distress, Gong Li and Michelle Yeoh stepped in to comfort her.

Ziyi forced a smile and nodded. "I'll try again."

She retreated to the dance studio and didn't emerge until thirty minutes later.

This time, she said nothing. Her expression was solemn as she stood on stage.

Ethan, seated behind the monitor, tapped his knee, waiting for the music to begin.

"Dun, dun dun!"

With the first note, Ziyi moved, her figure unfolding like a painting.

Snowflakes fell as her dance unfolded amidst the artificial winter scenery.

Rob bit his lip, awestruck. Through her movements, he felt an unwavering vitality—each gesture burned with intensity.

"Dun dun dun!"

As the rhythm quickened, Ziyi's dance grew wilder, embodying madness in the falling snow. She extended her arms, kicked her legs, spun, and arched her back with such force and brilliance that the audience was mesmerized.

As the drumbeats reached their peak, her dance climaxed. Every motion exuded a frenzied beauty, no longer a mere performance but a portrayal of life and despair.

When the music abruptly ended, she froze mid-pose, like a statue carved in the snow.

The crew stared in amazement, bursting into applause as they recovered from the spellbinding performance.

Breathing heavily, Ziyi straightened up and instinctively bowed to everyone with the elegance of a true geisha.

When her gaze drifted to Ethan, she was startled to see him clapping.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief.

Rubbing her eyes, she confirmed that Ethan was indeed smiling as he applauded.

In that instant, her confidence returned. Her expression softened, and her smile, reserved and graceful, now aligned perfectly with her character.

"It seems our little Chiyo has grown," Michelle Yeoh remarked to Gong Li.

"Yes, she now exudes the aura of a legendary geisha," Gong Li agreed, glancing at Ethan.

It became evident that Ethan's strictness had been intentional, designed to shape Ziyi into this role.

By repeatedly tearing down her confidence and rebuilding it at her lowest point, he had instilled a commanding presence befitting a geisha.

On stage, she was now an undisputed queen, capable of enchanting everyone.

In the following scenes, Ziyi's acting improved dramatically. She had finally captured her character's transformation.

Two weeks later, the production transitioned to the post-WWII era, and the crew began modifying sets.

Finally, Ethan took a break from directing and returned home.

But as soon as he arrived, Scarlett called him.

"Sir Knight is so busy..." Ethan could tell from her tone that she was upset.

It made sense—after the fiasco at the awards ceremony, he hadn't gone out of his way to find her.

So her complaining was justified.

"Apologies, Lady Saint. You know Steven asked me to direct a film."

"Yes, it seems the actresses in this movie must be very beautiful. Otherwise, Sir Knight wouldn't be so attached to the set."

"In comparison to you, they're not worth mentioning," Ethan paused before continuing, "Has your movie wrapped up?"

Since Lost in Translation won awards, her career as an actress had been smooth sailing.

She had caught Woody Allen's eye and appeared in several of his films. Last year, she starred in Match Point, and this year, she was filming Scoop.

"It's done. We're in post-production now."

"I see. No wonder you're only calling me now. I guess the co-stars in your set must be handsome, right?"

"Are you jealous?"

Ethan smirked. "Not at all. So, what are their names? I'll make sure they never appear in my films."

"Hahaha, Ethan, you're clearly jealous." Scarlett's anger dissipated with his teasing.

"So, where are you? I miss you."

"Where am I? Why don't you guess?" Scarlett seemed to want to play her guessing game again.

"Alright, send me some photos."

"You're confident."

"Because I've never lost."

"Then I won't hold back."

After hanging up, Scarlett sent him a few photos.

In the first, she leaned against a window, dressed in a silky lace-trimmed nightgown, her snowy skin tempting and alluring.

The second photo showed a street scene with spired buildings everywhere and a dome-shaped structure in the distance, though the details weren't clear.

In the third, she lay on a bed, seemingly taking the photo from under her clothes. The soft, flesh-colored surface made it hard not to swallow.

Ethan studied the photos carefully and guessed that Scarlett was in London.

This made sense since Scoop was filmed there, and the domed building in the second photo looked very much like St. Paul's Cathedral.

Coupled with the scenery outside the window in the first photo, he felt confident in his judgment.

He texted, "Got it, Lady Saint, you've been found."

"Really? You actually found me?" Scarlett's voice was a mix of disbelief and suspicion, thinking Ethan was bluffing.

"You're in London, near St. Paul's. Need me to go further?"

"F**k, you win again, Sir Knight. So, are you coming to claim your reward?"

"Wait for me. I'll be there tonight."

"Are you serious?" Scarlett had only been teasing Ethan and hadn't expected him to fly across countries to find her.

"Absolutely. I've already called the airline."

Ethan wasn't joking. With Scarlett, he had to constantly prove himself, no matter the method.

As for the airline, he was now an exclusive premium member, as frequent travel was inevitable for him.

"...Alright, you're really something, Sir Knight."

"No, you called me by the wrong name."

"What?"

"You promised before."

"Alright, Master..."

That night, Ethan arrived in London and met Scarlett at her hotel.

The moment they saw each other, they embraced tightly, disregarding everything else as they fell onto the bed.

Ethan tore her stockings and used the black fabric to tie her wrists together.

Scarlett laughed, her cheeks flushed as if drunk. "So, Master, are you going to teach me a lesson today?"

"That's right, to teach you." Ethan slapped her.

"Smack!"

A ripple spread instantly to her waist.

"Mm..." Scarlett bit her lip.

"Still tough, huh?" Ethan removed his tie. "Then I'll give you a proper lesson, Lady Saint."

This unforgettable lesson lasted a long time.

And for the next three days, it continued until Scarlett finally admitted defeat.

Only then did Ethan leave London with his prize.

On the plane, Ethan sat in first class, gazing at the clouds outside the window.

Around him were elegant flight attendants in flesh-colored stockings and light green uniforms, smiling brightly as they moved among the passengers.

"Do you need a blanket?"

Ethan, still watching the cloudscape, heard a soft voice nearby.

Turning, he saw a brunette stewardess with a gentle beauty, deep-set eyes, and a high nose bridge, seemingly mixed-race.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The brunette stewardess thoughtfully placed a blanket over Ethan, then leaned over to adjust his window.

Ethan didn't shy away, allowing her hair to brush against his cheek, filling the air with a faint citrus scent.

Noticing her close-fitting figure and the glimpse of flesh through the gap in her uniform, Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"How long would you like to sleep?" After closing the window, the stewardess crouched by Ethan's seat. Her upper body leaned in close, letting Ethan feel a subtle weight pressing on him.

"An hour and a half."

"Got it. I'll wake you then." The stewardess gave him a sweet smile before swaying back to the service area.

Ethan paid her no more attention, closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he felt someone lightly touching him.

"Sir, it's time."

Ethan opened his eyes slightly to see the brunette stewardess kneeling between his legs, gently patting him awake.

"Thank you." Noticing he was rubbing his temples, the stewardess reached out to help.

Her soft fingers massaged with care, quickly dispelling Ethan's grogginess.

"Your service is excellent. What's your name?"

"Fischer. And you?"

"Just call me Ethan."

"Ethan, I think I recognize you," Fischer said thoughtfully before her eyes lit up in surprise. "You're the director of Saw, right?"

"That's me." Ethan watched her delighted expression, thinking her acting was impressive.

"Incredible!" Fischer exclaimed, then stood. "I love your movies. Can I get your autograph?"

"Of course. Where would you like me to sign?"

Standing up, Fischer turned, presenting one thigh to Ethan before subtly lifting her skirt in an angle hidden from others.

"Right here would be perfect."