Intertwined fate

Chris leaned against the room's door as if fearing that Renly might burst in any moment. His heart pounded like a drum, and his dry throat began to itch, forcing him into a couple of coughs. He clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle any sound.

Finally, as his breath steadied, Chris locked the door behind him and walked quickly to the edge of the bed. He pulled out the script for "Thor" from beneath the mattress, a surge of elation coursing through him. The touch of the pages almost made his mind go blank; he had to catch his breath.

Stay calm, stay calm!

Chris had to will himself to calm down, planning his next steps meticulously. He needed to fly back to Los Angeles immediately, study the script inside out, truly embody Thor's character, and perhaps even seek guidance from an acting coach. He had to become the perfect embodiment of Kenneth's vision for the role. Then, through his agent, he'd need to make connections with individuals at Marvel Studios or Paramount Pictures, perhaps just a peripheral contact. If he could meet the director, that would be even better. After getting the opportunity, he'd step forward, showcasing his talent, and await the call from the key decision-makers. That would be enough.

If necessary, he could also reach out to Bryan Burk, the producer of "Star Trek", another Paramount production. Bryan had some connections within Paramount. During the filming of "Star Trek", Bryan had shown a favorable opinion of Chris. Now was the time to capitalize on that.

Without a script, it was all about connections or body of work. The path to landing a leading role in a major production was incredibly narrow, especially for an actor like Chris with limited acting experience. But the situation had undergone a seismic shift; he could prepare in advance and follow the official movie industry playbook. All he needed was to create a crack in the impenetrable network of relationships, and that would be sufficient.

At this realization, excitement surged within Chris.

During his time struggling in Hollywood, he had seen enough of those arrogant and aloof faces, like a bunch of nobles looking down from their pedestals. In reality, they were just sycophants trying to please others. They had looked down on him, dismissed him, but now, with the reins of opportunity in his hands, he wouldn't let go easily. When he stood at the pinnacle of the Hollywood pyramid, he might even extend a hand of gratitude to Renly if he was in a good mood.

As for guilt? Why should he feel guilty? This was Hollywood, a place of cutthroat tactics. He wisely seized the opportunity. He would be the one to have the last laugh.

In the past, Gwyneth Paltrow and Winona Ryder had been Hollywood's famous best friends, a pair of beautiful sisters. Winona rose to fame at a young age, her acting skills captivating. She was a sought-after collaborator for countless directors. Gwyneth came from an illustrious family background, her father a producer and her mother an actress. Steven Spielberg was her godfather.

In 1997, Winona, tired of Hollywood's deceit and the constant scrutiny, sank into a low period mentally, her acting career hitting a rough patch. Despite that, she remained a director's favorite, receiving countless offers.

One day, Gwyneth visited Winona's home, finding Winona lethargic in bed due to overconsumption of cold medicine. Bored, Gwyneth discovered a script under Winona's coffee table and started reading out of curiosity.

Gwyneth became intrigued by the script. Taking a risky step, she pocketed it without informing Winona. Winona, in her dire state, didn't even notice. Later, by studying the script thoroughly and leveraging her connections, Gwyneth reached out to producers and directors. She successfully auditioned and secured the role, winning an Oscar for Best Actress.

Yes, that project was "Shakespeare in Love".

Later, Winona learned of this matter and confronted Gwyneth face to face. Gwyneth admitted her actions, but this tore apart the once-close friends, leaving them estranged. Winona wandered deeper into self-destruction, while Gwyneth, despite being voted the most disliked actress in America for several years, saw her career thriving.

This was Hollywood—the one who laughed last was the victor. As for methods, no one cared.

In Chris's mind, images arose of everyone bowing before him, and a wide smile blossomed on his lips. Overcome with happiness, he almost laughed out loud. Burying his head in the pillow, he laughed muffledly, recklessly, yet it still wasn't satisfying enough. He stood up, vigorously swinging his fist, feeling like he was soaring. However, he stumbled and kicked the corner of the bed, a pain beyond words sweeping over him. "Ah!" He couldn't help but scream.

"Chris?" Renly's concerned voice drifted in from the living room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Chris hastily explained, tossing the script back under the bed, fearing Renly might come in directly. "Just, just bumped into the doorframe."

"Haha, you silly Hulk," Renly's teasing words came again. Chris chuckled nervously twice, a response, but behind that was a layer of cold sweat.

After this small accident, Chris's emotions finally settled down. Holding the script, he retreated to his private bathroom and began reading it carefully.

Fate is a wondrous thing; many people attribute their life's luck and misfortune to "fate", as if it holds all the answers to life's questions. It's as though an invisible hand of God controls everything, making life simpler.

However, in reality, fate always rests within each person's hands. A critical choice in a critical moment sets one on an entirely different life path. But looking back from a future juncture, no one knows whether, given the chance to start again, they would make the same choices. Perhaps fate was already determined by character, and choices had long been predestined.

Renly glanced at Chris's room door. He could sense that Chris's behavior tonight was odd, disoriented and flustered, as if he had done something guilty. But after thinking it over, Renly couldn't quite figure out what it might be. After all, Chris had just returned from Los Angeles, where he had spent a considerable amount of time. Their interactions were limited—could it be?

Could it be that there was a woman hiding in Chris's room right now? Suddenly, a thought popped into Renly's mind. If that was the case, it would explain everything, especially if that woman happened to be a well-known actress. They wouldn't want others to know or leak it to tabloid journalists, so acting discreetly was only natural.

With this thought, Renly chuckled lightly, turned off the lights in the living room, and retreated to his own room, giving Chris some personal space. Look, he was such an understanding roommate.

The next day, Chris packed his bags again and headed to Los Angeles, not even saying goodbye to Renly. This swift departure left Renly slightly surprised.

However, in Hollywood, this wasn't uncommon. New actors would travel long distances for auditions, hoping that this audition might be their breakthrough. They'd even go all out, sometimes in vain. That's why many actors chose to settle in Los Angeles or New York—there were plenty of opportunities, and they didn't need to travel far for auditions. Even if they did, the convenient transportation between the two major cities made things easier.

Renly didn't pry further into Chris's career development. After freshening up, he called Roy. After a night of contemplation, he had decided to decline the audition invitation.

Whether it was for Thor or Loki, from the context of the previous life's developments, once an actor decided to take on the role, they were bound to Marvel like armor. Even if someone like Tom Hiddleston had gained immense popularity through Loki, Marvel still refused to give the character more room to shine. Within the entire Marvel Universe, actors had minimal say.

After careful consideration, Renly decisively gave up the opportunity, without any hesitation. This left Roy lamenting, but Renly paid no mind. After packing up his belongings, he left the apartment. This morning, he had to go to Brooklyn where a street skateboarding competition was taking place, and he was one of the participants.

As for the script, after declining the offer, Renly simply pushed it to the back of his mind, unaware that the spot where he had left the script was now vacant.

In truth, Renly's skateboarding skills were far from exceptional. Even if he participated, he would probably end up at the bottom. After all, he had been learning for a short time, and his commitment was limited. But for Renly, the result of the competition wasn't the focus; the process itself was. This was also one of his major goals since being reborn: to fully enjoy life, learn skateboarding, guitar, surfing—everything. Lately, he had even been planning to find a basic hiking route in the second half of the year, strapping on a backpack and attempting trekking.

Dreams were important, and so was life. This lifetime, he would live his life with his own colors.

Descending the stairs, Renly tossed his skateboard onto the ground and with a whoosh, glided away. Yet, he heard a voice behind him, calling, "Renly! Renly!"

Renly used his left foot to brake, and turning back, he spotted a chubby figure. A deep gray shirt combined with a black windbreaker draped over him, even his round belly seemed perfectly positioned. There was an air of Italian mafia's imposing presence about him, yet he had run over, panting heavily. Not only did he lack the momentum, he even looked a bit disheveled. Sweat dripped profusely from his forehead. To an unaware person, they might think he had just finished a marathon.

"Huff, God... God..." He supported his knees with both hands, gasping for air, his face glowing red. Renly glanced at the short distance to his doorstep, barely thirty yards, then at this sweat-soaked figure before him, and couldn't help but find it amusing. "Give me a minute." The chubby man adjusted his breath and said with a flushed face.

Renly politely made a "please" gesture. "On such a beautiful morning, I can spare a minute, Mr. Rogers."

The chubby figure standing before him was Andy Rogers, an agent from CAA. Before "The Pacific" aired, he had personally visited Renly at Village Vanguard. He had expected that after the series aired, he would visit immediately, but unexpectedly, the series had concluded last week and he had only appeared today.

"Only one minute?" Andy pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I wonder if you have half an hour; we can sit down and have a good talk."

He needed to fly back to Los Angeles this afternoon. The casting competition for "Thor" had reached its most intense phase, and the three actors from the Innovative Artists Agency were getting close to victory. He had to be present and participate in the audition process. Despite this, he had forsaken the direct flight to Chicago and instead detoured to New York. He had arrived at the airport at 6:30 in the morning and had rushed over.

Because he knew the time was ripe to sign Renly, and he didn't want to miss out on this potential rising star.

"I'm on my way to Brooklyn now. If you don't mind, we can chat on the way." Renly wasn't taken aback. During the airing of "The Pacific", the number of contacts from his agents had exceeded double digits. At least three of them came from the five major talent agencies. Andy was just one of them.

Andy seemed unsurprised by Renly's response and extended an invitation with a gesture. "Of course, no problem." It was as if the afternoon flight didn't exist at all. "There's been quite a bit of discussion about you in Hollywood lately. I wonder if you've heard any rumors in New York?"

"I hope it's praise." Renly's answer made Andy chuckle. "Of course, it is. If I'm not mistaken, you should have received some invitations for major projects. That's the best proof. For example, "Thor"."