In summary!
Everything was going smoothly. The sumr blockbusters were in full swing, and the TV industry was shaken by the high salaries of "Friends." anwhile, Anson was heading to San Francisco, about to embark on the first film shoot of his career.
Without a manager or assistant, Anson packed his bags and set off on his journey. If he weren't concerned about his driving skills, he might have considered driving to San Francisco. But flying was also an experience, especially since this was the first ti he'd left Los Angeles since his ti travel. His excitent was palpable.
It felt like unlocking a new ga map, the freshness rushing in.
And, he got to work with Julie Andrews, which made him a little excited.
But...
Anson turned to look at the head resting heavily on his left shoulder. Only by experiencing it firsthand could one know how heavy a head could be.
Even though the in-flight announcents were being broadcast and there was a general buzz of noise in the cabin, nothing could wake up the head that was busy playing chess in dreamland.
Anson sighed helplessly.
His left shoulder was stiff and numb, and he clumsily leaned forward, glancing down, seriously considering whether he should wake the girl.
Then, he saw a glistening strand of drool slowly sliding out of her mouth, her wide-open mouth practically inviting flies in.
Forget about image—this scene could easily be in the top ten most embarrassing monts ever, a black mark in history, best erased and never seen by anyone.
Anson figured she must be enjoying so delicious food in her dream.
The words that had been on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back down, and he couldn't help but chuckle softly.
When boarding, Anson hadn't been in a rush. He waited until all the other passengers had boarded before heading in, encountering no obstacles and easily finding his seat. By the ti he got there, the window seat had already been taken, and the girl had fully fortified herself in her own little world.
She wore a New York Yankees baseball cap, the brim pulled low to cover her face, but her long, deep brown hair cascaded down like a waterfall. She had folded her sports jacket and placed it on her shoulder, leaning toward the window to create a makeshift pillow, and quickly fell asleep.
Clearly, she had co prepared.
Moreover, considering that the flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco was only about ninety minutes, the fact that she imdiately fell asleep after boarding showed just how exhausted she must have been.
Anson didn't disturb her.
But he hadn't expected that as soon as the plane took off and hit a little turbulence, her head would slide toward him, her baseball cap slowly slipping off.
Anson worried that she would lean on him, wondering whether he should wake her up, but before her head touched his shoulder, she sensed it herself and mumbled a soft "sorry," adjusting her position and leaning back toward the window. Without even opening her eyes, she resud her dreamlike chess ga.
Once, twice... they say third ti's the charm.
When the girl slid over for the third ti, she was already in a semi-conscious state, completely unable to control herself. Her entire head slumped heavily onto Anson's shoulder.
Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open.
Her soft hair, like water plants, swayed back and forth, covering most of her face. Even in such an embarrassing state, there was still a delicate and cute charm about her. She snored lightly, like a little kitten fast asleep.
At this point, even if she were thrown out of the plane, she might not react, plunging straight into the embrace of Mother Earth—completely imrsed in her dream.
Anson wasn't sure what she had been through, but seeing how deeply she was asleep, and with the plane about to land, he thought he'd let the girl sleep a bit longer.
——Clunk.
The plane landed.
The cabin jolted sharply, and the girl was thrown forward, her head about to collide with the seat in front. Anson quickly reached out, one hand stopping her fall, the other protecting her, fumbling to steady her during the turbulence.
Her dream world must have crumbled in the chaos because she groggily awoke, blinking her eyes. She realized she was in a warm, firm embrace and thought, "How comfortable," before trying to stretch.
Then it hit her.
An embrace?
That wasn't right.
"Ah!"
She let out a startled cry, her blurry vision focusing on the chin of a man. Instinctively, she pulled away, clenching her fists, "What are you doing?"
Anson, knowing his actions might easily be misunderstood, remained still. He slowly raised his hands without defending himself and simply responded with one word, "Protecting."
The girl: ???
Still drowsy, her brain was slow to process, pausing for a mont before so mories started coming back.
She slowly looked up, finally noticing those bright blue eyes. There was no avoidance, no shyness, no embarrassnt, no anxiety. Their gazes t, and in that silent exchange, there was understanding.
She glanced at the man before her, then looked down at herself. As her mind cleared, she realized things weren't as bad as she had initially thought.
Looking up again, her nervousness eased a little, but she remained cautious, "What happened?"
Anson still didn't say much, simply offering a slight smile and pointing at his left shoulder.
The girl: ???
Following his gesture, she saw a large dark stain on his T-shirt. Her slow brain finally caught up, and a horrifying thought crossed her mind. Sha, regret, frustration, and despair surged through her, head to toe.
"Oh, Jesus Christ."
She instinctively wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, finding it damp. She shut her eyes in mortification, finally understanding what had happened.
"Sorry. God, I'm so sorry."
In a panic, she had no idea what to do, so she grabbed her jacket and started wiping Anson's shoulder like she was scrubbing a table.
She rubbed and rubbed, but the stain wouldn't co off. Tears began to well up in her eyes, a hint of sadness showing. She then resorted to using her fingers to gently and ticulously scrub the spot in tiny circles.
But.
It didn't work.
She looked up at Anson, her tear-filled eyes eting his, catching the faintest hint of amusent in his gaze.
"Wah…"
With that, she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands, sobbing quietly.
Anson: ???
Now it was Anson's turn to be confused. He hadn't said anything; he hadn't done anything. What on earth was going on?
Anson was flustered, blinking in confusion as he glanced around. He quickly realized that all eyes in the cabin were now on them.
Anson raised both hands in the air to show his innocence, shaking his head emphatically: He really didn't do anything. Really. He swore!
"Hey, girl, hey!"
"Why are you crying? If you do that, everyone's going to think sothing's wrong when there really isn't."
Sothing was definitely off.
Sohow, he ended up looking like the victim here, right?
Actually, no—he *was* the victim! A hundred percent, without a doubt!
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