The steaming hot cocoa slid down his throat, and the tight knot in his stomach gradually unwound. His tense muscles began to relax, and a slight tingling sensation spread from his fingertips, not unpleasant, but like tiny pins and needles. A deep breath followed by a sigh of relief left his lips.
His whole body felt at ease.
Anson didn't choose to sit in the café. Instead, he carried his hot cocoa and walked to the station, sitting quietly on the platform, observing the bustling crowd before him.
Because of the cold and the early workday, the faces in the crowd were completely expressionless, devoid of even a hint of a smile. They stood in a numb and lifeless state, waiting for the train, their gazes unfocused, lost in their own little worlds, entirely indifferent to their surroundings.
Like zombies.
Naturally, no one noticed the man sitting quietly in the corner with his hot cocoa and thick beard—none other than Anson Wood, the man currently turning Hollywood upside down.
But even if someone did recognize him, what difference would it make?
These commuters had neither the time nor the energy to cheer for a Hollywood star. After a fleeting moment of excitement, they would still need to return to work.
Drained of life.
Slowly, a train arrived. The grey-faced zombies clumsily swarmed aboard, found their seats, and immediately closed their eyes. Despite the large crowd, the train was eerily quiet, filled with a deathly stillness.
Clunk, clunk.
As the train left, the platform grew silent, like a graveyard.
It wasn't until another train approached from the opposite platform that the noise returned, though it was still cold and cheerless. Almost no one got off, like a ghost train that came and went without leaving a trace.
But this time, something was different.
A figure appeared on the platform, dressed in bright, eye-catching clothes—layers upon layers of a T-shirt, a shirt, a sweater, and a jacket, so chaotic and confusing that it was hard to know where to focus. Despite wearing so many clothes, the person seemed unable to spark any real interest, so in the end, Anson's gaze settled on the person's hair—like seaweed tangled in a mess of strange colors.
What... strange color was that?
It was as if a dye had been spilled by accident, mixing colors that stained the hair. The roots remained blonde, though dulled and lifeless. The entire head of hair resembled wet, withered straw, devoid of vitality, possibly even making someone with trypophobia break out in goosebumps.
However.
In this messy, directionless outfit, there was an undeniable vibrancy and energy. Among the sea of grey, this figure stood out like the only burst of color in a world of zombies.
Instantly, she caught his eye.
It was a "she." She held a cigarette casually between her fingers, lazily exhaling smoke, her attitude one of complete nonchalance. As the smoke dispersed into the chilly air, it revealed a face that wasn't particularly delicate—perhaps even a bit rough—but there was a certain defiant beauty, like a rare orchid.
Kate Winslet.
This was unexpected.
It seemed Kate had the same idea as Anson, ditching her assistant and manager to experience New York life the way New Yorkers do.
And then, they bumped into each other by chance on the platform.
Just like Anson, the commuters on the opposite side were also like zombies, indifferent and grey. Even with Kate dressed so brightly, she failed to draw the attention of the crowd. No one seemed to realize that the star of Titanic, Rose, was standing right there in front of them.
Perhaps Anson was the only exception.
In his mind, Kate had never been the type of super beauty who stunned at first glance, especially with her slightly chubby face. In the beauty-saturated world of Hollywood, she didn't stand out as much.
But seeing her in person revealed just how misguided that thought was.
Physical beauty, the delicate features, and the perfect figure—that's the definition of a traditional Barbie doll. While these traits are certainly pleasing to the eye, they don't leave much of an impression.
It's the presence that matters.
As the saying goes, "Good looks are common, but a captivating soul is one in a million."
Beyond her appearance, what truly drew attention was the unique aura that radiated from within—her elegance and magnetism in every gesture and glance. It wasn't an overwhelming force but a gentle ripple that lingered, impossible to forget.
Kate was just that.
She was nothing like her movie persona, her magazine photos, or the stories people told. Here, she stood like a desert rose, proud and sharp amidst the desolate landscape.
One glance wasn't enough—you had to look again.
Unintentionally, their gazes met.
Kate's hand paused mid-movement as she was about to take a drag from her cigarette. She hadn't expected to run into Anson here. Narrowing her eyes, she studied him closely—
Apparently, she was nearsighted.
Anson didn't look away. He raised his hot cocoa in acknowledgment.
Kate hesitated for a moment, then snapped out of it and raised her cigarette in return.
And then… nothing.
Kate stood there for a few moments before turning to leave the platform, probably heading to her apartment.
Anson wondered if he had been impolite. Should he have approached her to say hello and close the distance between them? After all, they were about to work together.
But running into each other outside of the film set—how do you even start that conversation? And since they weren't heading back to the set yet, they might have to stay outside for a while longer. Wouldn't that make things awkward?
As his thoughts churned, Anson finally stood up, ready to greet her. But just as he turned, he saw a slightly out-of-breath Kate—
Did she run back?
They stood on the same platform, gazing at each other from a distance.
Kate raised her right hand and gestured behind her, realizing she was still holding her lit cigarette. She quickly put it out in a nearby trash can and explained.
"I figured since we bumped into each other, it's best to say hello."
Her smile was a bit stiff, carrying a hint of awkwardness.
Anson, now feeling a bit awkward himself, replied, "Oh, I was thinking the same, but you beat me to it."
Kate shrugged lightly. "Looks like my running practice is paying off."
The conversation stopped there. It didn't naturally continue.
Sensing the awkwardness, Anson tried to ease it by saying, "I didn't know it was a race; otherwise, I would have trained in advance, ha."
It was meant to be a joke.
But Kate didn't laugh. She just forced a slight smile and scratched her head as if unsure how to respond, making the situation even more uncomfortable.
Anson was surprised—
From media interviews and award shows, Kate always came across as confident and straightforward. She wasn't the type to crack jokes constantly, but she certainly didn't seem shy or reserved.
So what was going on today?
And given her long-standing fame from Titanic, Kate should have been used to these impromptu encounters between actors in Hollywood. There was no reason to be nervous meeting someone like Anson, a rising star.
This was definitely out of character.
Could it be… that Kate was already starting to immerse herself in the role of Clementine?