The Greatest Showman #1246 - In-Depth Discussion

Arthur fell silent, sitting still with a calm expression. Those around him couldn't detect any emotional turmoil. Renly remained quiet too, but a faint intuition deep within told him a storm was brewing in the Halls. George and Elizabeth clearly did not want to witness it.

"My personal opinion: It's best if George and Elizabeth don't find out that you and I met this time," Renly's voice broke the silence. Arthur snapped back to reality, taken aback by the words, then pondered their deeper meaning before asking, "What, do you mind?"

First Edith, now Arthur.

Among the four Hall children, two of them sought to break free, spread their wings, and embrace freedom. To be precise, it all began with Renly—the source of everything.

For the Hall family, this was a nightmare they couldn't wake from. Their situation was spiraling into a bottomless abyss, with everything tied back to Renly. It was easy to imagine how George and Elizabeth must feel, gnashing their teeth. Would this have all happened if Renly hadn't been the so-called "traitor"?

If they knew Arthur had come to Los Angeles to meet Renly for a private conversation, it would be catastrophic.

Renly smiled faintly in response to Arthur's question. "Yes, I mind."

The unexpected answer stunned Arthur. A smile gradually appeared on his face, growing into a full grin.

Renly elaborated, "Whatever your reasons, they'll blame me. It's inevitable. Los Angeles is my territory." There was a subtle sarcasm in the words. Everyone knew Renly resided in New York—Los Angeles was far from his territory. Arthur chuckled at the remark.

"But if they knew about our meeting, for the sake of the Hall family's first heir, they might personally fly over from the East Coast and disrupt my life." Arthur's tone shifted, different from Edith or Renly, or even Alf. As Renly had pointed out, "The problem is, I don't have the time or patience to appease their egos. So, yes, I do mind."

A touch of disgust, rejection, and indifference lingered in his words. There was no visible aggression, but the firm distance between them was undeniable.

Arthur's smile faded as he processed Renly's response. His gaze turned introspective, with a fleeting hint of loneliness. His words were not accusations but rather a quiet distancing.

It was Oscar night—the pinnacle of the industry's celebrations. As the saying goes, "Born in Rome, stay in Rome forever." And tonight, born in the Sunset Tower Hotel, would be forever etched into the memory of the venue. Aside from the rare leak of "How to Betray Your Family," the secrets of Oscar night typically stayed hidden.

Arthur knew this meeting, too, would not escape the confines of secrecy.

Renly understood, and so did Arthur.

But Renly had drawn a clear line. Arthur's persistence, his internal battles, his hesitation—they were his alone to carry, not Renly's. As the designated successor, Arthur faced far greater burdens than Renly, and it was inevitable that his courage and resolve needed to be stronger.

Growing up, Renly and Arthur were neither close friends nor brothers. They were more like strangers living under the same roof, occasionally rivals with good intentions. Renly might support Edith, but he could never extend that to Arthur.

If roles were reversed, Arthur would be more decisive than Renly.

He would give no advice, listen to no grievances, and would simply walk away, leaving the burden to the one it concerned. It was indifference, a form of survival, or perhaps habit.

Arthur had never condemned Renly's actions. In the past, it didn't stir him. He could leave without a second thought. But now, as bitterness swirled in his mouth, he found himself struggling to find words.

So, was this meeting really a deep conversation?

"Sometimes, I envy you and Edith," Arthur confessed, his voice tinged with loneliness.

Renly chuckled. "So, are you waiting for me to envy you and Elf?"

A lighthearted joke broke the tension. Arthur took a moment to reflect, then smirked, adding, "You know what? Maybe you should."

Elf, too, was changing, resisting that change since last year in the West End.

Thinking about it, not only Edith, Arthur, and Elf, but even George and Elizabeth, the entire Hall family, was shifting. It was like a small pebble dropped in a still lake—ripples spread outward, growing ever more violent, forming waves that would soon crash.

Who could have guessed that the source of it all was the youngest son of the Hall family?

Arthur looked at Renly and said seriously, "You know, everyone thinks you're an angel, but in fact, you're a demon."

Renly raised an eyebrow, the glint in his eye making Arthur's heart race. He quickly reminded himself not to provoke Renly, or he would regret it. A hint of annoyance crept in as Arthur gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his frustration.

"Arthur, you're not cut out for Shakespeare. Don't deliver those melodramatic lines. It's bad for your image," Renly quipped, his words full of humor.

Arthur muttered under his breath, "Damn it! It's watertight! A complete devil! Hollywood is so pitiful!" His voice was muffled, barely a whisper, but the frustration was clear.

Renly's inquiring gaze lifted, and Arthur quickly composed himself. "I'm not an actor. I don't need to worry about my image."

Noticing the playful light in Renly's eyes, Arthur raised his chin slightly, turning his attention to something else. "Are you sure it's okay to stay here? He's been standing there for ten minutes, constantly glancing over. Is he trying to cover up? Or is he deliberately making my urgency obvious?"

Hollywood, after all, was a place where emotions were often exposed, and intentions hidden in plain sight. Despite the top-tier social event, everyone still wore masks, pretending to be innocent.

Arthur suddenly felt pity for those around them—actors, producers—who didn't understand Renly's mind.

They stood in front of him, no secrets between them. But they couldn't read his thoughts, and Arthur wouldn't be surprised if top-tier producers held disdain for Renly.

Renly followed Arthur's gaze, raised an eyebrow, and let out a low laugh. "Trust me, he's the only one at this party who doesn't look forward to talking to me." He paused, adding, "I think he might be waiting now, but..."

But not out of good intentions. Rather, out of malice.

Renly didn't finish his thought. Harvey Weinstein had finally reached his breaking point. Stepping forward, he interrupted the conversation between Renly and Arthur.

Standing near the colonnade, Harvey had been waiting patiently, but after enduring long enough, he could no longer keep silent. He grabbed a glass of champagne and approached, deliberately slow, allowing Renly and Arthur to notice his approach.

This was a subtle trick for navigating social situations.

When interrupting a conversation in a delicate moment, the key was to appear natural—slowly approaching within the other person's line of sight, catching their attention with a nod or a smile, and introducing a neutral topic, like a glass of wine.

Even though everyone knew this was the beginning of a formal conversation, at least the etiquette remained intact.

As one of Hollywood's top producers, Harvey wasn't known for his elegance. He was crude, blunt, and arrogant. Yet, he had mastered the art of negotiation, displaying his grassroots nature with pride.

To become more refined, Harvey had spent time studying the social etiquette of the elite, learning the customs of France and the UK. While he didn't use them often, tonight was an opportunity to showcase what he had learned.

Renly and Arthur, however, were unimpressed.

Harvey stopped, nodding and greeting Renly, "Good evening, Renly."