124 Change of focus

[

Water flies straight down three thousand feet—

Has the silver stream of our galaxy plunged from highest heaven?

]

This part of the quatrain from Li Bai, a seven-character poem, was originally used to describe the grandeur of a waterfall. However, at this moment, the eruption of flashing lights before Renly truly showcased the grand spectacle of these two lines. The vast burst of light exploded recklessly before his eyes. Before he could even react, he was plunged into darkness. From extreme brightness to extreme darkness, in the blink of an eye, in a moment of daze, Renly seemed to once again find himself inside the coffin of "Buried".

The brilliant light was like an embroidery needle made of cow hair, pricking his eyes with a slight ache. His brain stopped thinking; he simply lifted his right hand and gently touched the contours of his brow bone, attempting to shield his eyes from the piercing glare, alleviate the pain in his eyes, and experience the warmth that burst forth on his palm from the intense light.

In an instant, being taken off guard and overwhelmed by tension turned into a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Renly found this somewhat absurd, even a bit theatrical. He finally understood why celebrities, when facing paparazzi cameras, either lowered their heads or covered their faces. And, of course, why they always carried sunglasses. Maintaining an image was one thing, but protecting their eyes and avoiding the flashes was the true goal.

Unconsciously, he also raised his right hand to shield his eyes. In this moment, he became one of those disheveled or pretentious artists that had appeared on computer screens before. Suddenly, Renly felt less nervous.

Daisy Lucas felt that her long-dormant inner girl's heart was about to burst. Seeing Renly awkwardly shielding his eyes, a smile slightly lifted at the corners of his mouth, she found the moment to be enchanting. There was a trace of unruliness in her teasing, a hint of youthfulness in her elegance, and a touch of confusion in her composure. This fleeting beauty caused her heart to suddenly stop.

After the last interview Vanity Fair had conducted with the cast of "The Pacific", Daisy had formed a deep impression of Renly. Primarily, it was because of his wit and sharpness during the interview. Later, when selecting photos for the interview article, Daisy discovered that the Renly in the pictures seemed to lack that vitality. She couldn't put her finger on it; it wasn't that Renly didn't photograph well, but rather, the real-life Renly left a deeper impression.

Until today, Daisy finally understood what was going on. It was those eyes, that smile—this blend of youthfulness and manliness that couldn't be captured by a photograph. Daisy's heart began to tremble slightly. She couldn't help but madly press the shutter, even though she knew it was futile. She couldn't solidify time on film, but the fireworks in her mind couldn't stop, like a Fourth of July fireworks show.

Unconsciously, Daisy took a step forward. Soon, she found her waist pressed against the railing, preventing her from moving further. Her upper body leaned slightly forward as she tried to record this moment on film. "Renly..." the call remained trapped in her throat, unable to be shouted out. Then, from not far away, a roar as thunderous as a lion's emerged. Daisy looked towards the source of the voice—it was Bradley Adams from The New York Times.

"Renly! Renly Hall! Renly!" Urgent and distinct, excited and enthusiastic.

In orderly fashion, everyone's gaze shifted towards Bradley. Most people didn't understand why he would call out such an unfamiliar name. Many began to whisper and exchange hushed words, "Who's that?"

The Emmy Awards had over forty categories for nominations, and the number of nominees exceeded four hundred and fifty. Even the main actor category had a hundred nominees. With guest actor categories as well, there were well-established big names, rising newcomers, and supporting actors with years of experience. Remembering all those names wasn't an easy task, let alone matching names to faces.

Renly Hall, whether the name or the face, remained profoundly unfamiliar to most people.

But now, amidst this constellation of stars, on the red carpet alongside figures like Tina Fey and Bryan Cranston, a journalist had called out the name of an unknown nobody. It was indeed... earth-shattering. When people realized that the journalist shouting the name was Bradley Adams from The New York Times, the commotion grew even more apparent. Before the awards ceremony even began, another gossip-worthy topic was added to the list.

Renly lowered his right hand. Though the flashing lights continued to blink, they had dispersed and were no longer as piercing. This brought him a slight relief. Following the sound, he looked over and saw an unfamiliar face, or more accurately, the faces of journalists were all unfamiliar.

Glancing left and right, he saw many actors standing beside the red carpet, being interviewed by journalists. It seemed this was the designated interview area. So, Renly picked up his pace and walked over.

The entire passage allowed only four people to pass through at a time. After a couple of steps, Renly sensed a pressure and had to slightly lift his head. He handed his recording device over, "First time at the Emmy Awards, how does it feel?"

A routine question that nearly every newcomer would be asked. "Lots of people?" Renly trailed off, his voice carrying a sense of confusion. "It's reminding me of the rush hour traffic in Manhattan."

Bradley couldn't hold back a chuckle. It was an amusing analogy. "So, being one of them, how do you feel?"

"I'm trying to imagine this is Coachella," Renly shrugged, playfully quipping, "It's much better than being stuck in traffic."

Not only Bradley but the journalists around them couldn't help but smile. "So, you're not nervous at all?" Bradley pressed on.

Renly pondered seriously for a moment, lightly lifting his chin, "Actually, a little. I'm worried that after walking the red carpet, no one will notice me and I'll just stroll by like a ghost. When I go back and tell my friends, "Hey, I went to the Emmy Awards", no one will believe me. I'm even thinking, maybe I should take a picture with Jon Hamm or Matthew Fox to make it more believable. But now, I'm at ease."

Once again, Renly's self-deprecating humor and sarcasm, humorous yet not lacking in wit, successfully evoked laughter from the surrounding journalists.

From a distance, Daisy could already see the journalists there, the atmosphere relaxed with laughter filling the air. She couldn't help but feel a bit left out. Because she knew better than anyone that interviewing Renly was such an effortless and enjoyable task, and the process of wit and strategy was as pleasurable as hunting for treasure.

Daisy looked around and made a decisive choice to move towards Bradley's direction. "Excuse me, please make way." Daisy started navigating through the challenges, attempting to get closer. Yet soon, she realized it wasn't an easy feat, for she saw several fellow journalists.

"Are you saying you're not worried about tonight's awards ceremony? Winning your first Emmy nomination for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Miniseries or Movie, do you not have any special feelings?" Bradley's question instantly triggered the memory of the surrounding journalists. One after another, they recognized the young man before them, who at the age of twenty, had achieved a remarkable feat. He was undoubtedly the biggest surprise on this year's Emmy nomination list.

In a moment, the questions became concentrated, "How do you think your chances are tonight? First-time nominee, are you excited? As the sole nominated actor from your entire cast in the acting category, did the other actors say anything?"...

In an instant, the rapid-fire questions grew fervent. Renly felt a bit overwhelmed; after all, he had never experienced such a spectacle in his two lives. However, he didn't falter. Instead, he chuckled, "I'm finally getting a taste of being a star. You know, when you watch award ceremonies on TV, you always fantasize about being the protagonist."

This jest elicited another round of chuckles from everyone. Renly continued, "Regarding the nomination, well, of course, I want to win. It's the highest honor, isn't it?" Candid and straightforward, genuine yet sincere, this simple response immediately earned Renly favorable impressions from countless journalists. There were no hypocritical pleasantries, no convoluted masks. Renly's words exuded confidence without the arrogance, making people want to applaud. Compared to the stagnant red carpet interviews, this was much more interesting.

"However, it's a bit like the prom king and queen selection at a high school dance. We all know there's only one winner in the end. Being nominated means I'm handsome enough and popular enough. I think I'll enjoy the halo that comes with the nomination and then quietly await a miracle." Renly's elegant British accent lightly lifted, infused with a touch of cunning and wisdom.

Effortlessly, he elicited laughter once more from the journalists. Bradley even wanted to applaud Renly for his balanced and poised interview style, which retained his individuality. Even Hollywood veterans who had been around for years might not have been able to achieve this. Yet, this was only Renly's first red carpet appearance, making people truly take notice.

"Sorry, please make way." Turning around, Daisy saw Kristen Wiig, dressed in an elegant silver evening gown. However, her expression was comical, intentionally bending her waist, as if imitating the awkward situation when a man experiences a physical reaction. She waggled her eyebrows at Renly and said, "I need... um... to cool down." As she spoke, she used her hands to fan her cheeks, attempting to alleviate the warmth on her face.

This teasing gesture couldn't have been more obvious; she was jesting with Renly, playfully suggesting that he was too "hot". This simple act made all the journalists burst into laughter.

Amidst the crowd, Daisy wore a look of frustration and annoyance, muttering to herself, "What's going on? Why is everyone moving in the same direction again? Isn't there any other focus on the red carpet?"