"Yes, I just finished filming Born on the Fourth of July not long ago. Director Oliver Stone is confident I'll get an Oscar nomination for Best Actor with this film."
While waiting for the food to be served, Tom Cruise and Nicole seemed to be chatting quite happily, especially about the gossip and anecdotes of Hollywood. Hearing it from someone inside the industry made it all the more fascinating.
"Then I wish you success at next year's Oscars." Nicole offered a small compliment.
Success? Success in grabbing air? Ryan remained calm on the surface, but inwardly snorted with disdain. Even in twenty years, you still won't win an Oscar, buddy!
"As for Days of Thunder, you're the one I most want for the role, but you know, it's not entirely up to me." Tom Cruise's words seemed to have a deeper meaning.
"No worries," Nicole appeared completely unbothered. "Of course it would be great if I pass the audition, but if not, I believe we'll have other chances to work together in the future."
Hearing Nicole's response, Ryan felt half his worries dissipate. Everyone wants fame and fortune, but to blind oneself in pursuit of them would be a terrible loss. Though the woman beside him was clearly ambitious, her mind remained sharp and clear.
The dishes were soon served, and Ryan's plate clearly stood apart from the others, especially the fiery red shuizhu pork, which made Nicole click her tongue. She didn't even need to taste it — just smelling it made beads of sweat appear on her forehead.
Whether it was stir-fried sea cucumber with scallions, kung pao chicken, or the other dishes and crab roe buns he later ordered — they were undoubtedly the most delicious things Ryan had eaten since his rebirth. Although he'd been eating Western food like creamy bread for nearly ten years, his soul still craved the deeply buried flavors of his roots — tastes that would never change with time.
Especially the specially ordered shuizhu pork, which not only satisfied him to the core, but also made him even more confident in whether the vibrant red broth could achieve the intended "effect."
To be frank, Tom Cruise, though somewhat arrogant and exuding the typical airs of a celebrity, still had the charm — good looks, graceful demeanor, witty conversation. During the meal, not only did he make Nicole giggle non-stop, but he didn't ignore Ryan either, often speaking to him about whimsical topics that children would find interesting.
Looking at Nicole enjoying the meal so cheerfully, Ryan could only sigh inwardly. To be fair, Tom Cruise truly had what it took to attract any woman, and Nicole developing a fondness for him was only natural.
But he absolutely would not bow to the wheels of fate. No matter what, he would never let these two get together again.
He glanced at the nearly empty bowl of shuizhu pork, now mostly filled with that vibrant red broth. A sly smile curled on Ryan's lips. Nicole, perhaps sensing something, suddenly cast a suspicious look his way. Fortunately, after nine years of nonstop acting, Ryan had long since mastered the art of switching expressions. In a flash, he returned to a perfectly normal look.
"Nicole, can I borrow your mobile phone for a second? I just remembered something I need to ask Pat." Ryan didn't even shift his gaze as he found the perfect excuse.
"What is it?" Nicole asked, though she still reached into her handbag and took out a Motorola cellular phone that had just been released this year.
Taking the not-so-brick-sized mobile, Ryan pushed back his chair, ready to head elsewhere to make the call. Maybe he'd been sitting too long, because his leg felt a little numb and he wobbled. Though he didn't fall, the mobile in his hand slipped and began to drop toward the bowl of red broth on the table.
"Careful!" Nicole and Tom had already cried out as soon as Ryan tilted.
"Oh no — the phone!" Ryan reacted fast. Before the phone could land, he reached out and caught it. But his movement was so quick and forceful that he lost his balance again. To keep from falling onto the table, he had no choice but to brace himself with his other hand.
Splash—
Ryan's hand, with uncanny precision, landed on the edge of the soup bowl facing Mr. Cruise. Maybe he used a bit too much force. Or maybe it was just well calculated. Either way, nearly half a bowl of the red, oily soup flew forward through the air.
Though most of it landed on the table and on their clothes, a fair amount still splashed onto that handsome face. The sensation of chili water on one's face — even many hardened revolutionaries in the past couldn't handle it. Let alone a pampered pretty boy.
"Ah—!"
That bowl of shuizhu pork had been specially requested with extra chili. The fiery burn on his face was no joke. Tom Cruise immediately let out a muffled cry, covering his face. Thankfully, he remembered they were in public and tried to suppress the volume.
"I'm so sorry, Tommy!" Ryan hurried to apologize, rushing to Tom's side like a guilty child eager to make amends. He picked up a white napkin and began wiping that handsome face. But once the napkin turned red, he started — deliberately or not — brushing it toward Tom's eyes.
Just as he was about to succeed, a delicate white wrist suddenly reached from behind and accurately grabbed Ryan's hand. Nicole shot him a subtle glare and said to Tom, before the waiters could arrive, "Tommy, I apologize on Ryan's behalf. Do you want to see a doctor?"
Maybe the sting had subsided, or maybe he just wanted to keep his composure in front of a beautiful woman. Tom wiped his chili-covered face with a napkin and graciously said, "It's fine. Just an accident."
After all, Ryan was only about nine years old. As a big-time movie star, how could he seriously argue with a kid?
Soon, several waiters and a restaurant manager arrived. Ryan kept apologizing profusely, seemingly deeply remorseful over the accident. But in his heart, he was overjoyed. Not only was Mr. Cruise's tailored suit stained red, but even his handsome face now looked like Guan Yu from the Three Kingdoms. His eyes, especially, seemed very uncomfortable — constantly blinking and welling with tears.
Regardless, Tom Cruise was a public figure. He couldn't stay in such a state for long. After exchanging a few words with the manager, he headed to the restaurant's private changing room reserved for celebrities and the wealthy.
Naturally, the messy dining table couldn't be used anymore. Nicole and Ryan moved to another spot while waiting for Mr. Cruise to return. Nicole Kidman's blue eyes kept drifting toward Ryan, her already cold beauty taking on a new, icy edge.
"I'm sorry, Nicole. I ruined your dinner with Mr. Cruise."
Ryan handed the mobile phone back with an expression of sincere regret. Seeing Nicole's unreadable face, the sincerity on his face quickly morphed into anxious unease.
"You're getting less and less trustworthy as you grow up," Nicole sighed, grabbing Ryan's small, red-stained hand and carefully wiping it with a napkin — as if she were cleaning the finest porcelain.
This dinner, originally meant for Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, began pleasantly but ended awkwardly. When Mr. Cruise returned, freshly changed and tidied up, there was no reason to continue.
To be fair, the star really did have grace — at least in front of a beautiful woman. Not only did he not blame Ryan, he even offered a few comforting words and personally drove Ryan and Nicole back to their apartment in Westwood.
"Goodbye, Tommy! You're the greatest movie star I've ever met!"
After getting out of the car, Ryan didn't give Nicole or Tom a chance to say anything — just waved and said his goodbyes.
"Well then, good night, Nicole. And Ryan too."
Back at the apartment, Ryan tossed his backpack onto the couch and stretched with a satisfied yawn. He was in an incredibly good mood. Indeed, nothing beats the joy of battling with fate, people, and life itself.
Though tonight's events appeared to be purely accidental, Ryan suspected that clever Nicole might have sensed something. Still, he wasn't worried. Even if that Australian woman caught on, the worst he could expect was a fierce scolding — which was nothing to him.
Still, it was probably best not to linger too much around Nicole. After saying goodnight, he went straight to his room. After showering and changing into dry clothes, he sat at his desk and resumed the task that had consumed most of his time over the past three years — writing.
After completing revisions for the third book of Harry Potter, Ryan had set the series aside. Since he already claimed the creative rights and the later books leaned more toward formula, he figured he could return to them in a few years.
Since 1989 began, most of his energy had gone into scriptwriting. Thanks to his previous job as a film projectionist, his biggest interest remained movies. He had studied many classic screenplays, and during his time in London, he'd read extensively on the subject.
Maybe his scripts still had issues with camera transitions, but overall they were at least as good as any rookie screenwriter.
For English writing, a typewriter or computer was obviously faster than handwriting — especially for someone like Ryan, who rarely paused to think as he wrote.
But typewriters were too bulky and hard to carry, and laptops, with their DOS systems and specs, were enough to make him cough blood.
Damn you, Bill "Gatesy"! Can't you release the Windows OS a little earlier? Ryan picked up his fountain pen, shook his wrist, and cursed in his mind once more.
What he was writing now had nothing to do with memories of past movies or novels. Instead, it drew from some online rumors and the shameless deeds of a certain nation. Strictly speaking, it was an original work — a short to medium-length science fiction story. But for Ryan, it represented progress.
The novel was already complete; now he was just revising. No matter what, he wanted it published. Although he had established a solid relationship with Alien Entity Publishing thanks to his growing body of work, a terrible story would still ruin his reputation.
After who-knows-how-many read-throughs, Ryan finally picked up his pen and wrote the title of the original sci-fi short story on the top.
If someone from his previous life saw the title, they'd first be shocked — then burst into uncontrollable laughter. Because the story was called:
"The Universe's Number One Superpower and the Tenjins"
Okay, Ryan admitted he sometimes had too much of a dark sense of humor. That strange country hadn't yet displayed the kind of face-thick-as-Earth's-diameter behavior it would later become known for. But opening up the world to mockery of it now? Wasn't that just the most fun?
Originally, Ryan had wanted to write another story called "The Universe's Number One Military Power and Its Invincible Chubby Marshal," but after some thought, he shelved it. Maybe he'd revisit it when the three chubby dudes completely turned the country north of the great superpower into a hereditary monarchy.