"Paul, Paul, is that you? I'm so sorry, darling. I shouldn't have left my phone at home, I missed your call."
"It's okay, Linda. Listen, those people are coming for you. Leave the house and go to the police—they'll protect you. Everything will be fine."
"Thank God! I was so scared I'd lose you. I love you, I love you so much."
"I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I shouldn't have come here."
"I don't care about that; I just want you to come home, come back to me. I love you—I can't live without you."
"Darling, I'll come home, I swear. I'll definitely come home."
Inside Berlin Film Palace Theater 3, Buried was playing.
On screen, Luca's character, Paul, was lying in a dark wooden box, calling his wife Linda.
The ground kept trembling, and fine sand fell from the cracks in the box, gradually covering his body, making the situation more and more dire.
Holding back tears, he kept repeating, "I love you," and promised, "I'll definitely come home." His tears wet the yellow sand at the corner of his eyes, leaving a dark, damp trail.
It was a very moving scene.
Soft sobs could be heard from the audience.
Luca glanced around.
There were over 50 people in the theater.
As the plot reached its climax, everyone was focused on the screen, tension filling the room.
In the reflected light from the screen, many had tears in their eyes. Some faces were streaked with tear marks, and a few women covered their mouths, weeping softly into their boyfriend's shoulder.
Meanwhile, the woman beside Luca, Ms. Theron, remained expressionless, occasionally blinking her long, wet eyelashes.
Luca smiled slightly, satisfied with both the audience's reaction and his own performance.
This version had been filmed on that Monday, and it was his first time seeing it—he was pleasantly surprised.
Compared to the original version, this one heightened the action and emotions, making them feel more authentic, as though they were actually happening rather than being acted out.
At the same time, he felt a bit helpless.
"If I had to do it again, I'm not sure I could do better than this."
"This must be my peak performance," he thought.
As the movie neared its end, fate played a cruel joke on the protagonist.
Just when he thought the rescue team had found him, they told him they had the wrong person.
With a series of "Sorrys," the protagonist resignedly said, "OK, it's fine."
The sand slowly covered the glow of his phone, the bright light shrinking from the size of a fist to a tiny flicker like a firefly. Finally, the screen went completely dark.
The movie ended.
Sighs echoed through the theater, lamenting the protagonist's misfortune.
Some in the audience cursed the screenwriter, calling them cruel for not writing a happy ending, feeling that their tears were wasted, and expressing how depressed and uncomfortable the film made them. Others thought the ending was brilliant.
"Did you write the script?"
Outside Theater 3, Ms. Theron paused and asked.
"Yes. What did you think?"
Luca turned his head to look at her profile.
"It was… alright."
Ms. Theron nodded slightly.
Luca smiled. Knowing her well, he understood that "alright" meant "very good."
"And what did you think of my performance?"
He asked again.
"You passed," Ms. Theron said casually, wrapped in her scarf.
In her language, "passed" translated to "excellent."
Luca silently thanked her for the compliment. "Do you think I have a chance at winning Best Actor?"
"You?"
Ms. Theron was about to speak but then blinked, her eyes smiling as she said, "Why don't I ask for you?"
"Ask who?"
Luca was puzzled.
Theron didn't answer. She walked straight over to a middle-aged woman with short hair.
The woman was slim and looked somewhat familiar.
Luca studied her closely for a moment and suddenly remembered.
The woman was Frances McDormand, a famous American actress known for works like Blood Simple, A Streetcar Named Desire, and Fargo.
She had won an Oscar for Best Actress, been nominated three times, and had countless other awards—a true veteran of the industry.
She was also the head of the jury for this year's Berlin Film Festival.
In addition, Ms. Theron was the lead actress, and Frances played the second lead in the upcoming film Northern Winds.
If Theron asked her, there was a chance she'd get an answer.
More than ten minutes later, Theron returned.
"Well?"
"What?"
"Did you ask about my chances of winning?"
"I didn't ask, but your chances aren't great."
Theron smiled, tucked her hands in her pockets, and walked into Theater 5.
"Alright then."
So much for that hope.
Luca shrugged and followed her inside.
The two watched several more films, including Eva's True Love's Kiss, Sylvia Chang's 20 30 40, and Intimate Strangers. All were good films.
But they all had intimate scenes—quite explicit ones, at that.
It made for a steamy atmosphere.
During a particularly passionate scene between Sylvia Chang and Ren Xianqi, some couples in the audience couldn't resist making out, accompanied by moans and whimpers, turning the place into a scene straight out of a zombie movie.
Luca shook his head, finding it all a bit too much.
He glanced at Ms. Theron beside him. In the dim light of the theater, she had lowered her scarf, her lips looking red and tempting.
Before any bold thoughts could form in his mind, Ms. Theron shot him a warning look.
He had no choice but to keep quiet.
At around 6 PM, the two left the film palace.
Night was falling, and the streetlights cast a cold glow. Only the neon lights outside the bars and clubs looked warm and inviting.
"Sally, this bar looks lively. Want to go in and have a seat?"
Luca suggested.
"No."
"How about a cup of coffee?"
As they passed a café, Luca asked again.
"No."
Ms. Theron continued walking, her hands in her pockets.
After passing through Gendarmenmarkt, the Hilton Hotel's sign glowed golden in the twilight.
"Alright then."
It seemed like the date was a failure.
Even though they didn't know each other well before, they still didn't seem to connect. Luca had no idea what kind of relationship Kate and Theron had through their text messages, but it was clear this in-person meeting wasn't going well.
Luca shrugged. If it was a failure, so be it. At least nothing went wrong today.
They walked in silence for a while.
As they were about to part ways, the leaden sky began to snow, soft flakes floating down.
"Sally, see you tomorrow! I had a great time today."
Luca stopped and said.
Theron nodded, pulled her scarf up, and walked toward the hotel.
Luca exhaled a breath of cold air and turned to walk down the steps.
"Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?"
Suddenly, a voice called from behind.
The voice was so soft, quieter than the falling snow, but Luca heard it.
He stopped and looked at Theron's figure—tall and alluring, more mesmerizing than the snowstorm.
She paused on the steps for a moment, then continued walking forward, as if she hadn't just extended an invitation.
Should he go or not?
Luca hesitated for a second, then followed.
It's just coffee, nothing inappropriate about that.
(End of Chapter)