Actor in Hollywood

Nora didn't notice Anson's brief moment of distraction; her full attention was drawn to the unfinished painting in front of her—

It was a watercolor painting.

Anson hadn't chosen a fine liner brush but instead opted for a background brush.

Normally, a background brush is used to wash the background of a painting, its larger size producing broader strokes for large areas of color. But Anson skillfully used it to construct the framework of the painting.

With delicate elegance, he applied broad strokes to outline the structure, layering colors in a way that created rich, textured depth. The interplay of horizontal and vertical strokes felt free and fluid, seemingly abstract yet distinct in its dimensionality. A three-dimensional space emerged vividly on the paper.

Light green, soft yellow, bright blue, and pale pink.

These gentle shades, layered carefully, crafted an intricate illusion of space, allowing the light to flood through the framework, filling it with warmth.

Nora could almost see golden sunlight on the paper.

This is the magic of art: even though Anson's painting consisted of nothing but lines, Nora could see sunlight, the ocean, and a forest—

It felt like an afternoon in a redwood forest at the height of summer. Towering trees reached up to the sky, while sunlight poured down in beams like waterfalls, creating a serene and mysterious world. Standing still, one could feel the interplay of light, breeze, and mist singing softly on the skin.

Nora was captivated.

It wasn't just the painting's mystery and freshness, like the rabbit hole leading to Alice's Wonderland—though that too was significant. Nora's artistic instincts were firing, her gaze filled with admiration. But she quickly suppressed her professional side, returning to her role as a mother.

What truly held her was the emotion in the painting: sorrow and loneliness, bitterness and scars, all slowly healing. Even though it was just a small step, the heart was beginning to open up, allowing sunlight in. The chaotic negative emotions seemed to be calming, and a long-lost sense of peace was emerging.

This was a good thing.

It meant that Anson's time in Los Angeles, pursuing his acting challenge, was having a positive effect. Perhaps they should encourage him to continue pushing his limits.

Nora studied the painting intently, her mind racing with thoughts, nearly losing composure. But she couldn't let Anson see that. Lowering her eyes to hide her emotions, she took a breath and composed herself. When she stood upright again, she was calm, taking a small sip of her wine.

"Summer by the sea."

"Sunshine, sand, ocean. It's warm, but not stifling. A gentle breeze brings a hint of coolness. There's nothing pressing to do—just lying on a beach chair with a glass of lemonade and a watermelon, using a Tolstoy book to shield your eyes from the sun, drifting off into a peaceful nap."

"An entire afternoon slips by, just like that."

Anson was taken aback.

Nora hadn't noticed that a different soul now inhabited the same body, but she had perfectly captured the subtle mood within the painting.

His nerves relaxed slightly, and his tone lightened in response, "Lemonade?"

Not alcohol?

Nora raised her glass of wine and took another sip, giving Anson a knowing glance. "How about we compromise with a Long Island Iced Tea?"

"Haha." Anson couldn't help it—his smile widened involuntarily.

Nora glanced at Anson, carefully looking him up and down. She had a feeling that something about him had changed, but she couldn't quite put it into words.

Still, this change seemed to be a good thing—

In just a few short months, Anson's eyes had become clearer—no longer clouded, lost, or scattered. His entire demeanor had regained a fresh, clean elegance.

His slightly curly, golden-brown hair was a bit messy, and he wore a loose, deep blue shirt that hung casually on him. There was an air of carefree nonchalance about him, but it wasn't dark or brooding. Instead, it had a natural, subtle brightness, like the blue hour before dawn.

Similar, yet different.

Unconsciously, Nora remembered what Darren had said. It seemed Anson really did enjoy being an actor.

Taking another sip of her drink to hide her thoughts, Nora shifted the conversation. "So, how long are you planning to stay this time?"

Anson shrugged. "Not sure. I'm still waiting to hear back about an audition. If I don't hear anything in the next day or two, I might head back to L.A. and wait there."

Nora nodded slightly. "If you get the part, will the job be in New York?"

Anson spread his hands. "Not sure. You know how those Hollywood movies are—they build sets in studios, and anything they can't build, they do with CGI. There are several 'New Yorks' in Burbank alone."

Nora replied matter-of-factly, "No, I didn't know that."

Anson, caught off guard by her straightforward expression, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, I forgot. I shouldn't be discussing lowbrow art in front of high art. Wait, does film count as art?"

Clearly, he was being sarcastic.

Nora struck a pose, lifting her chin and gently swirling her wine glass. After a moment of serious thought, she replied, "Barely."

A smile crept onto Anson's face. "Thanks!"

Nora smiled too, her voice catching in her throat. "I just wanted to say, if you do end up working in New York, the apartment in Bryant Park is already renovated. Lucas is in San Francisco most of the time, so you could stay there. It'd be convenient for getting to work."

Anson looked surprised. "So, does that mean I'm officially independent now?"

Nora pretended to be serious as she made a joke. "In two months, you'll officially be eighteen. Your father and I have been eagerly waiting for this day, just so we can kick you out and finally enjoy our time as a couple. God, I hope it comes soon."

There was no doubt—she was joking.

Anson was a bit surprised.

In his past life, his relationship with his parents wasn't like this; but looking at it from a different angle, maybe this teacher-and-friend dynamic suited Anson better.

It was easier to keep up appearances.

Originally, he thought that, as an outsider, he should distance himself from the family as much as possible. But now, he was starting to think that maybe changing his approach wouldn't be so bad.

Anson didn't panic. Instead, he remained calm and responded just as seriously, "But you know I still expect my allowance check every month, right?"

Nora gave him a mock-serious look. "I'll think about it."

However, the slight upturn of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

Anson was about to speak again when he noticed a faint burning smell in the air. "Wait, what's that smell? Are you cooking something?"

Nora's expression changed, losing her previous composure. "Oh no, my chicken and mushrooms!"

She quickly handed her wine glass to Anson and rushed out of the room.

But she paused at the door, turned back, and with sincere eyes, said, "You really have a talent for painting. You should pick up a brush sometime—it suits you."

Without waiting for Anson's response, she dashed out, leaving the sound of her hurried footsteps behind.

Anson stood there, slightly stunned, before a soft smile spread across his face.

The fourth update.