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The Box Office King of Hollywood

Knock! Dang! Knock--   A sharp knock on the door suddenly rang in his ears, followed by a man's urgent voice coming through the door, "Matthew, why did you kick the makeup artist out? The director and the female lead are already in place, the entire crew is waiting for you, the male lead, you still have fifteen minutes!" ----------------------- It's 1 chapter per day at 1 p.m. (Arizona) in every novel I upload. 3 daily chapters in each novel on patreon! p@treon.com/INNIT ----------------------- DISCLAIMER The story belongs entirely to the original author.

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198 Chs

Chapter 79: Mentholatum

"Move faster!" Tom West stood at the edge of the newly constructed mud pit at the training field, yelling at the soldiers crawling through the mud, "Quicker! Remember, you're soldiers now!"

Carrying a "Chicago Typewriter" (Thompson submachine gun), Matthew ignored the splashes of mud and vigorously moved his arms and legs, quickly surpassing the others. His innate physical condition, coupled with his prior training, allowed him to demonstrate significant advantages in stamina and strength as the session progressed.

After crawling out of the mud pit, Matthew stood up and was immediately met by a medical team with hot water and a blanket. He took a sip of the hot water and used the blanket to wipe the mud off his face and wrapped it around himself.

The production team wanted to simulate battlefield conditions to enhance the filming effect, not to torment them unduly, and had made adequate provisions for recovery.

"F@#K!" A curse echoed, and Michael Fassbender also emerged from the mud. Matthew reached out, pulled him up, and Michael glanced at Tom West not far away, cursing again, "That goddamn bastard!"

Tom West happened to look over. Matthew pulled Michael Fassbender aside and whispered, "There's no point in antagonizing him, it does us no good."

He was just making conversation but didn't expect Michael Fassbender to misunderstand, nodding grimly, "Right! We can't confront him openly!"

Matthew said no more, recalling the script. Similar scenes were meant to prepare them as well-trained paratroopers, but such intense training would have been more appropriate in the summer, not this season.

A chill wind blew, and Matthew shivered.

This paycheck was not easily earned.

Soon, everyone had crawled out of the mud pit. Matthew thought Tom West was about to end the session and had just breathed a sigh of relief when West shouted, "You are a team! Elite paratroopers, not ragtag guerrillas! Where's your formation? Your cooperation? I don't see it!"

He pointed at the mud pit, "Now, crawl back in!"

By the time training ended, it was already dark. The actors, exhausted, rushed through hot showers. Many didn't even eat dinner, collapsing into bed in their barracks as soon as they returned.

Truth be told, not many were interested in the military canned dinners provided.

Fortunately, despite Tom West's insistence on military-style training, the production team remembered they were not real soldiers and gave them a two-day break for the weekend.

To accommodate his weary roommate, Michael Fassbender went to bed without waiting for Matthew to finish his reading. Turning off the light, Matthew went straight to sleep. He was truly exhausted, as evidenced by waking up late the next morning with the sun already high.

Checking his phone from under his pillow, Matthew saw three missed calls from Brittany.

He quickly called back, but after several rings with no answer, he realized it was deep night in the U.S. and hung up.

Brittany was probably in the midst of a deep sleep after a busy day.

"You awake?" Michael Fassbender entered, "I saw you were sleeping soundly and didn't wake you." He set several takeaway breakfast boxes on the table, "I brought breakfast for you."

"Thanks." Matthew stretched and got up.

Michael looked at him and commented, "I thought you were Iron Man."

Matthew smiled, "Even Iron Man needs rest."

After freshening up, Matthew didn't stand on ceremony with Michael, opening the breakfast box and asking, "Got any plans for today?"

Michael thought for a moment, "I've arranged to meet with Damian Lewis with James. Wanna come?"

"I don't know him," Matthew shook his head. "What are you meeting him for?"

"To see if their training is as brutal as ours," Michael said straightforwardly.

The main actors, including Damian Lewis, did not train with them.

Matthew was well aware that every large production had its hierarchies; Damian Lewis and others were far more critical than mere character actors like them.

"You guys aren't planning anything, are you?" Matthew swallowed his food.

"I asked around, and apparently, all our current treatment is at Tom West's insistence," Michael Fassbender, still a young man in his early twenties, said. "Another session like yesterday, and I might just lose it!"

Matthew considered for a moment, then asked, "Have you thought of a way to handle this?"

Michael shook his head, "No."

After finishing his milk, Matthew wiped his mouth and cleared up the trash, saying, "Although I can keep enduring, I'd prefer it to be a bit more comfortable. I'll give you a useful clue."

"What clue?" Michael asked.

"You know," Matthew said discreetly, "I always go out to call my girlfriend after lunch."

Michael nodded, aware of the routine.

Matthew got straight to the point, "While making

 those calls, I've seen Tom West and Kate Jeffery head to the warehouse together several times."

"Oh?" Michael raised an eyebrow, "Those two..."

"I'm planning to take a trip into the city," Matthew said as he changed clothes and packed his backpack. "I haven't actually been to London proper yet."

Michael seemed preoccupied, gesturing absentmindedly, "Go ahead. If you get lost, call me or James."

Leaving Hartfield Airport, Matthew hailed a taxi to take him to Chinatown in London.

However, he didn't direct the driver straight there. Like a typical tourist, he first visited the famed Westminster Abbey, wandered around, and then went to a nearby bustling supermarket. After not finding what he was looking for and roaming around the crowded areas, he walked to Chinatown.

While not well-versed in the UK scene, Matthew guessed that the item he sought, likely not available in standard shops or malls of the era, would be found in Chinatown.

London's Chinatown, located in the Soho area of Westminster, was dotted with Chinese restaurants, shops, and souvenir stores.

Upon arrival, Matthew quickly scanned the area, which felt more like a tourist street than a residential area.

Passing through the tall Chinese archway into Chinatown, he saw several restaurants with large signs at the entrance. Not here to eat, he continued further and soon spotted a small supermarket with a traditional Chinese sign. He entered.

The supermarket was compact, and after a couple of laps, he didn't find what he was looking for and approached a promoter to inquire.

The promoter, a Caucasian with prominent features, shook his head after hearing Matthew's query, "Sorry, sir, I don't understand what you're talking about."

Slightly frustrated, Matthew asked, "Do you have any Chinese staff?"

"Yes!" The promoter replied, "Please wait, I'll call someone."

Soon, a young Asian girl approached. Matthew quickly switched to Mandarin, "Hello."

The girl responded in kind, but Matthew didn't understand—it was either Cantonese or Minnan, not Mandarin.

"Do you speak English?" Matthew, unfamiliar with the dialects, asked. The girl smiled and switched to fluent English, "Hello, sir, how may I help you?"

"I need a product from China," Matthew gestured the shape of a small bottle, "It's in a green bottle, called..."

He paused, trying to pronounce it in English, "Feng... you... jing..."

The girl looked confused, perhaps not catching Matthew's words, "I'm sorry, sir. What are you looking for?"

Scratching his head and gesturing, Matthew tried again, "Feng... you... jing... It's a cooling, pain-relieving, anti-itch medicine for insect bites from China."

"Oh, I understand now," the girl realized what Matthew needed, "Just a moment, we should have some in the back."

"Could you possibly have the double strength kind?" Matthew added.

"You're in luck," the girl smiled, "We ordered a batch of triple strength Mentholatum this summer specifically for forestry workers; there's still some left."

She led Matthew to the cashier, "We usually sell this in the summer. It's rare for someone to buy it in winter, so we don't display it then. How many would you like?"

Thinking he'd need to conduct an experiment, one bottle wouldn't suffice. Matthew decided, "The double strength, give me ten bottles."

The girl was surprised by the large quantity but didn't question further, fetching ten small boxes of Mentholatum and packing them up for him.

"Thank you."

After paying, Matthew left the supermarket, had lunch, then exited Chinatown. He stopped at a small clinic to buy several ultra-small medical syringes and quick-drying glue for sealing wounds. Finding a secluded park, he took out the condoms he had purchased earlier and began his experiment.

After several trials, using up a few bottles of Mentholatum and half of the syringes, and most of the condoms, Matthew felt his plan might be feasible. There was nothing to lose by trying, and if it worked, it would surely shock Kate Jeffery.

Though this could unintentionally harm Tom West, Matthew did not hesitate. Despite enduring West's harsh training, like Michael Fassbender and others, he held no affection for the draconian instructor.

As night fully set in, Matthew, backpack in tow, returned to the Hartfield Airport dormitory. Upon entering his room, he found Michael Fassbender, James McAvoy, and Michael Coulthard gathered together, murmuring among themselves.

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