The air buzzed with noise; the wind carried the sounds of a bustling crowd, and the chaos of Paris Fashion Week was slowly drawing the crowd's attention to this corner, with people quietly gathering, their presence palpable in the air.
The atmosphere suddenly beca subtle—
Anson and Winona's calm composure instantly put the paparazzi at a disadvantage.
Anyone with sharp eyes could see that the paparazzi were currently besieging the very stronghold they sought to conquer.
So, what now?
In the crowd, one of the paparazzi could feel Anson's bright gaze on him, causing his skin to tingle slightly, pricking at his pride.
When had a paparazzo ever been so embarrassed in front of their target?
Stiffening his neck, he raised his voice and said, "Is this a threat?"
Striking first to gain the upper hand, playing the victim—this was a move the paparazzi were all too familiar with.
Anson chuckled.
"Ha."
His lips curved into a light smile, his gaze remaining clear.
"I think you might have a misunderstanding about the definition of a threat."
"This is a negotiation, a discussion, a dialogue."
"Of course, if you want to turn it into a threat, I have no problem with that. Mr. Jerry Lewis, are you threatening us to cooperate, or else you'll harm us?"
A counterattack, just like that.
The paparazzo was stunned. "My na isn't Jerry Lewis."
Anson shrugged lightly. "If you say so."
What was with that nonchalant attitude?
Watching the paparazzo's face turn red, seemingly on the verge of exploding, the other paparazzi exchanged glances, recognizing the situation.
It wasn't that they were afraid of Anson fighting back, but because Anson was right. The paparazzi were just trying to make a living. Since Anson and Winona were cooperating, there was no need to push things too far and risk burning bridges.
Of course, the most important reason was that Anson stood there so openly, without giving them any juicy headlines or newsworthy material.
Were they really going to stand here all day?
So.
Soone stepped aside to make way.
Once the first person moved, others followed, and a narrow passage slowly ford in the dense crowd, like Moses parting the Red Sea with a wave of his staff.
That "Jerry Lewis": ???
He couldn't believe his eyes. So what just happened here?
Winona felt the sa.
All this ti, they had always been harried and embarrassed under the paparazzi's pursuit and blockade. Just look at Leonardo DiCaprio and Dustin Hoffman.
They were always dodging, always fleeing, even forced to resort to bizarre actions.
Like Leonardo covering his head with a shopping bag, or zipping his hoodie all the way up to hide his face.
Like Dustin hiding behind trash cans or light poles—anything nearby to temporarily conceal himself.
In truth, they weren't fools; they knew these actions couldn't truly hide them. Only a seven-year-old would believe that hiding behind a light pole would keep them from being seen. But why did they still insist on doing it?
It was a stance.
Because they knew they had nowhere to escape, the paparazzi were like persistent flies that wouldn't leave them alone as long as they were breathing. But that didn't an they were willing to compromise; they needed to express their stance, a small act of rebellion.
However, Anson showed a different kind of stance—
He didn't run or hide, but instead, he displayed his rebellion in a different way: He wouldn't let the paparazzi's presence disrupt his life, and he certainly wouldn't cower or tremble under their siege.
He had his own life.
Winona was montarily stunned; she didn't know how Anson managed it, but the fact was, Anson did it—he walked away unscathed from the paparazzi's siege.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Anson and Winona calmly left the encirclent.
Winona cautiously glanced back at the paparazzi, who were still lingering, then quickly shifted her gaze back to Anson. "Are we running away now?"
Even Winona thought Anson's earlier words were just a stalling tactic.
Anson smiled, his face serious. "No, we're not running away."
Winona blinked in surprise.
Anson continued, "They'll still follow us, but they'll soon realize there's nothing worth capturing."
"They're not that complicated, really. They want a sensational story, sothing dramatic—just like sharks are drawn to blood. But if there's nothing like that, they'll quickly lose interest and leave on their own without us needing to chase them away."
Winona was skeptical. "Really?"
Anson shrugged lightly. "We're just ordinary people, after all. Just because we work on the big screen doesn't an we have superpowers. We still need to eat and drink. We still can't teleport; we still have to walk using our legs."
"Ha." Winona couldn't help but laugh.
She was a little nervous, like a fox on a frozen pond in winter, ready to stop at the slightest sound, always prepared to flee.
Instinctively, Winona glanced back again—
The paparazzi hadn't left, but they hadn't co any closer either, maintaining a distance as they followed behind.
Anson and Winona kept their promise, walking down the road toward the Seine; the paparazzi didn't attack, but Winona noticed sothing.
"They're nervous." Winona looked at Anson as if she had discovered sothing new.
Anson nodded. "They're worried we might run at any mont, so they have to stay on high alert, but we don't need to."
"It's the sa in everyday life."
"They try to create drama, to stir up conflict. They need to stay tense, and if we get caught up in that, disrupting our own lives, then we beco the victims. But if we choose to ignore them and stick to our own rhythm, they can't bother us. Instead, they beco victims of their own profession."
"What's that saying?"
"Like flies. Yeah, paparazzi are like flies."
Winona was still tense and looked back again. This ti, she noticed all the paparazzi imdiately raising their caras in response to her movent—a synchronized reaction that was almost impressive. anwhile, she continued to stroll along leisurely.
This made Winona smile, and she even raised her right hand to wave at the paparazzi, like a mischievous prank—
*Click, click, click.*
Winona burst into laughter, her eyes, brows, and mouth all lit up with joy. She patted Anson's arm, "Did you see that just now?"
Anson laughed too. "Try it a few more tis, and they'll get tired, bored, and eventually, they'll disappear."
"So, there's really no need to let them disrupt our lives. Look, it would be such a sha to miss the beautiful view right in front of us."
Winona didn't fully understand, but the smile remained on her lips. Following Anson's gaze, she saw the bright and warm orange hue gently rippling across the Seine. The breeze rustled the leaves, and the whole world was bathed in a glorious glow, ti seemingly frozen in this mont, making it impossible to look away.
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