The air in the hallway was freezing, enough to kill.
To the left, in the elevator, Jennifer Connelly held her book, her eyebrow subtly raised. Her look was a mix of amusement and scrutiny, like she was watching a play staged on the fly.
To the right, Cameron Diaz held his coat, and the smile on her face—the kind of sweet smile that could make you sick—froze solid in a second.
In that moment, Link felt this was harder than winning an Oscar.
"You forgot this..." Cameron's voice was squeezed out between clenched teeth, and the jacket in her hand felt like it could turn into a weapon any minute.
Link's brain immediately kicked into high gear.
He didn't flinch or evade. He just smoothly took the coat and gently tucked a strand of windblown hair behind Cameron's ear. The gesture was both intimate and utterly composed.
"Thanks."
His tone was calm. He then turned to Jennifer, his expression strictly businesslike.
"Ms. Connelly, fancy running into you."
Without waiting for Jennifer to speak, he stepped forward, blocking the elevator door, and smiled as he made the introductions.
"Perfect timing, I can introduce you two."
He spoke with an air of composure. "This is Cameron Diaz, the leading lady from The Mask."
Then he turned to Cameron.
"Cameron, this is Jennifer Connelly, the leading lady from A Beautiful Mind."
The hallway was so quiet you could almost hear the dust breathing under the carpet.
The ice on Cameron's face didn't thaw. She looked at Jennifer, her eyes sharp with assessment.
Jennifer met her gaze, and beneath her calm expression was a hint of coldness from on high.
The air between the two women was practically ionized.
A pulse began to throb faintly at Link's temple.
He took a deep breath, like a director seizing control of a performance hall.
"What you were saying on the phone," he looked at Jennifer, deliberately ignoring the tension in the air, "about Alicia's fight—I really love that idea."
His voice wasn't loud, but it had a quiet strength.
"However, I believe that a woman in the sixties, facing that kind of medical system, her fight shouldn't be a scream, but a kind of... a silent war."
Jennifer paused slightly. She unconsciously tightened her grip on the script she was holding.
"You mean?"
"Her weapon isn't emotion; it's intelligence."
Link said calmly, "She goes to the library not to cry, but to study. She uses their logic to dismantle their conclusions."
Jennifer's eyes lit up.
That glow was the light of an actress ignited by her role.
She stepped out of the elevator, completely forgetting she was supposed to go upstairs.
"Yes! She has to know more than they do, she has to flip their power dynamic!"
"Exactly," Link nodded, his gaze gentle.
He then looked at Cameron, naturally pulling her closer.
"Cameron, you're an actress, too. What do you think?" He tossed the question to her. "From an audience's perspective, would a leading lady quietly researching in a library be a little... dull?"
The question caught Cameron off guard.
She had been boiling with anger, but now that she was drawn into the discussion, if she said, "I don't know," wouldn't she basically be admitting she was just a jealous airhead?
She pursed her lips, glanced at Jennifer, and then looked at Link's face, which was so composed it was almost innocent.
She cursed him a thousand times in her head, but on her face, the ice slowly began to melt.
"I think..." She cleared her throat, trying to sound professional, "If she's just researching, it would definitely be dull. But what if, while she's researching, there's a regular couple next to her, dating and kissing? That contrast could be really powerful and moving."
Jennifer paused for a moment, then smiled. It was the first time the smile held genuine approval.
"That's a great setup. Using happiness to contrast suffering—that's sophisticated."
"Right?" Cameron's chin unconsciously lifted a fraction.
Watching this, the knot in Link's stomach finally loosened.
He smiled and pressed the elevator button.
"Let's go, coffee shop downstairs. My treat. We can go over this whole Alicia storyline—the three of us together."
---
Half an hour later, in the lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.
By the window, a Chinese-American producer sat between two of the most dazzling women in Hollywood.
One was blonde, with a bright smile, like the California sunshine.
The other was dark-haired, with a cool demeanor, like a New York winter.
They had scripts and notes spread out, discussing in low voices, occasionally punctuated by light laughter.
The scene was peaceful and harmonious, like an oil painting with perfectly balanced light.
On the other side of the coffee shop, several men in business meetings couldn't help but constantly glance over.
The envy and curiosity in their eyes sparkled under the lights.
But they couldn't see the fleeting exhaustion in Link's eyes.
Not far away, a gossip reporter held his camera, hesitated for a long time, and finally put it down.
Write "Two Women Fight Over One Man, Coffee Shop Showdown"? The atmosphere was more harmonious than a writer's workshop.
Write "Producer Has It All, Juggling Two Beauties"? The three of them had nothing but scripts in their eyes; it was too clean to find a single shred of a scandal.
He sighed, feeling like he must have left his good luck at home today.
Just then, the clunky cell phone in Link's pocket rang again.
He looked down, and his brow furrowed instantly.
It was the main line for the Princeton Hotel.
A sense of unease welled up inside him.
He offered an apologetic smile to the two actresses, got up, and walked aside to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
On the other end, the night manager, with a thick Indian accent, spoke with a mix of alarm.
"Mr. Link... Mr. Link? You'd better come back right away!"
"Your friend, Mr. Crow, he..."
He took a deep breath, his voice almost trembling:
"He's covered all the windows in the hotel rooms with mathematical formulas!"