"Where's Julie?"
"She left. Without you here, shopping with her wasn't as fun. Do you want to see her? I can call her over."
"No, I was just asking."
In the booth of a bar, Richard ordered two cocktails. Sitting across from him was Gwyneth, with her medium-length hair down, wearing a light gray business dress, high heels, diamond earrings, and a platinum necklace. She looked in great spirits.
"How did your audition go?"
"Not too well. I auditioned three times and only got one role."
Gwyneth shrugged.
"That doesn't sound too bad."
"Of course, don't forget I just got an Oscar nomination. My agency, WMA, is powerful, and my godfather is director Spielberg. No matter how influential Weinstein is, it's hard to blacklist a popular A-list actor."
Gwyneth smiled and held his hand.
"And you? Have you landed any new roles?"
"I'm in talks, but progress is slow."
"Did I drag you down? Do you need help?"
"This has nothing to do with you. Last time, he wanted me to perform boxing in public. I couldn't do it. If I really obeyed him, I'm afraid my fists would never be strong again."
Richard clenched his fists as he spoke.
Gwyneth smiled slightly and kissed the back of his hand. "Darling, I like you just the way you are—strong in both body and soul like steel."
Richard smirked, "Watch your image, you're a big star, Gwyneth. Be careful not to get photographed."
"I don't care. Fine, I get it, you're worried about your wife finding out."
Gwyneth smiled slightly, letting go of his hand and brushing her hair.
"Richard, why don't we start a film company together? We could invest in our own movies, just like Drew did. After the success of Never Been Kissed, the media said she went from ugly duckling to swan, reborn anew. The harsher the criticism she used to face, the more praise she receives now."
"A film company?"
Richard pondered for a moment. Starting a film company wasn't a bad idea. With information on those celebrities, they could pick out a few profitable movie projects.
"I've thought about this before, but I don't know enough about the film industry yet, and I don't have enough capital, so I haven't acted on it. If you're serious about this plan, I could invest a portion."
"The amount doesn't matter. What I need more is your moral support."
Gwyneth blinked and smiled.
"No problem. Here's to our successful partnership."
Richard raised his glass.
"Yes! And to us always being this happy."
Gwyneth laughed.
Richard chuckled softly, about to speak, when a commotion erupted next door—shouting, cursing, and the sounds of a fight.
Crash~ Clatter~ "Hey, Richard, come quick! Paul's fighting with Hitman!"
Mike hurried over to say.
"Hitman? The wrestling champion?"
"Yes, they were drinking over there and ran into The Rock and Hitman. O'Neal invited them over for drinks, and during the conversation, Paul was brought up. The two of them got egged on and started fighting. Paul and Hitman exchanged a few words, and now they're going at it."
Mike explained as they walked.
"Shaq is really a troublemaker."
Richard, Mike, and Gwyneth arrived at the center of the room, where a crowd had gathered, cheering loudly. The atmosphere was electric.
The most prominent figures were the Lakers' three core players—Shaquille O'Neal, Kobe Bryant, and Derek Fisher. O'Neal and Fisher were shouting encouragement, urging them to fight harder, while Kobe clapped with a smile.
On the ground in the middle of the floor, Paul was lying down, his neck locked by Hitman, his legs struggling, his face turning red. Hitman was incredibly strong, and Paul had no way to break free from his grip.
"Hey, stop!"
Richard rushed over and shouted.
"Hey, champ, this is a duel between the two of them, a fair fight. Outsiders better not interfere."
A muscular figure blocked his way—it was The Rock.
"Yes, Richard, Paul said he wanted to take on Hitman, but it looks like he can't handle it."
O'Neal shrugged.
Richard shook his head and looked at The Rock. "Mr. Johnson, for your friend's safety, you should advise him to let go, or else he'll get beaten badly."
"Haha, champ, it looks like it's your friend who's at a disadvantage right now."
The Rock laughed with his arms crossed.
"Not for long. We have rules in our gym: no punching without gloves in a public fight. But today, we can make an exception."
Richard said.
"Oh, really?"
The Rock grinned.
Richard shook his head, "Hey, Paul, why aren't you using your fists? This isn't an official match. No one's going to call a foul. Even in an official game, doesn't O'Neal foul all the time?"
"Damn it, why didn't you say so earlier!"
Paul shouted in frustration.
"Finish it quickly, can't you see the ladies are watching?"
"Alright, watch this!"
Paul stopped struggling, let out a roar, and threw a punch backward.
Bang! He landed a solid blow on Hitman's lower jaw.
Hitman was a giant over two meters tall, with muscles even more developed than The Rock's. The punch sent his head snapping back, and his arms immediately released Paul's neck. He staggered backward a couple of steps and plopped down onto the floor.
"Wow, that was intense!"
"Go, Paul!"
"Get up, Hitman!"
The crowd shouted.
"Roar!" Translation:
Paul stood up, looked up to the sky, and let out a loud roar while pounding his chest.
Hitman, having taken a beating, charged forward angrily, swinging his strong arms as he moved in for a fight.
Paul shifted his footwork, looking for an opportunity to strike.
"Paul, save some energy, don't hurt him," Richard shouted.
"I know!" Paul quickly stepped back three paces, then suddenly rushed forward, launching a long-distance straight punch that landed squarely on his opponent's face.
Bang! Hitman's head snapped back, and he staggered several steps, crashing into the crowd of onlookers, knocking down four or five bystanders.
"Hey, want to keep going?" Paul grinned, shaking his fist.
"You broke the rules," Johnson said with a grim face.
"What rules? We just said we'd have a match, not a wrestling bout. He can use a cross arm lock on me, but I can't punch him?" Paul smirked.
"Hey, Paul, you're too tough," O'Neal said, giving Paul a playful punch.
"It's nothing, I held back. Otherwise, I could have knocked him out," Paul said proudly, scanning the room, focusing especially on Serena Williams. Seeing her smile, his grin widened even more.
"Paul, watch out!" Mike suddenly shouted.
"Brett, don't do anything rash!" Johnson yelled.
Hitman was swinging a whiskey bottle, aiming it at the back of Paul's head.
Many people at the scene gasped in shock. The bottle had a large belly, thick glass, and a solid, square shape. If it hit Paul's head, the consequences would be severe.
Whoosh! Just then, someone jumped up, delivering a flying kick that hit Hitman's raised wrist perfectly.
The bottle fell to the ground, and the person who kicked it followed up with a karate-style front kick, landing solidly on Hitman's chest.
Hitman, now with a size 45 footprint on his chest, staggered back several steps, crashed into a table, and fell to the floor.
"Wow!"
"Wow!"
The crowd erupted in shock.
"Wow, Richard, can you fly?" O'Neal asked, his eyes wide with amazement.
Richard shook his head. "It's nothing, really. Bruce Lee could kick over three meters high. Compared to him, I'm far behind."
"Richard, that kick was awesome. How can you kick so high and keep your leg so straight, like a long sword?" Fisher asked, kicking his own leg in curiosity.
"Practice. Hey, Paul, what are you doing?" Richard grabbed Paul by the shoulder.
"Hmph, that despicable guy dared to ambush me. I'm going to beat him to death," Paul said, clenching his fists.
"Don't be rash. If something goes wrong, you could lose your boxing license," Richard reminded him.
According to the rules of the boxing association and state athletic commissions, boxers aren't allowed to fight ordinary people. If something goes wrong, they could lose their competition license.
Tyson lost his boxing license with the Nevada State Athletic Commission after getting into a fight. He had to reapply to compete again.
"Alright, I'll let it go this time!" Paul said reluctantly.
"Let's go, let's keep drinking!" O'Neal called out to the group.
Johnson walked over and helped Hitman up.
Earlier, both Richard and Paul had held back, not hurting him too badly.
But Hitman, having lost face, glared at Paul before leaving the bar with a dark expression.
Johnson shrugged. "Richard, O'Neal said your wrestling skills are great. Interested in trying out for WWE?"
"No plans for that at the moment!" Richard replied with a smile.
"If you ever do, let me know. I'd love to have a match with you," Johnson said, flexing his arms with a grin.
"OK!" Richard bumped fists with him.
After seeing Johnson off, O'Neal's drinking party continued. O'Neal and Fisher, impressed by Richard's flying kick, asked to learn the move from him, thinking it was particularly cool.
Richard was a bit helpless—given O'Neal's weight, kicking that high could easily lead to a pulled groin.
However, he didn't refuse. He mentioned that he'd soon be opening a boxing bar in Los Angeles where people could spar and exchange fighting techniques. They were welcome to come by often.
After sitting for a while, Richard left the bar with Gwyneth.
That evening, after returning to the villa, Richard changed clothes to prepare for training. As he approached the training room, he could hear the sound of someone hitting a punching bag.
It was Paul, training.
The guy was shirtless, with dark skin glistening with sweat, continuously pounding the bag, clearly having been at it for a while.
"Paul, didn't you ask Serena out?" Richard asked, sitting down in front of the barbell rack.
Phew~ Paul let out a long breath. "No, Serena said she needed to go back to practice."
"How did the conversation go?"
"Pretty well," Paul said with a grin, then sighed, "But it feels like it'll be hard to win her over."
"Why?" Richard asked, puzzled.
"She knows a lot of sports stars, some with assets in the hundreds of millions, even billions. I'm just an ordinary boxer; she probably won't like me."
"Probably? Did she say that, or is that what you think?" Richard asked.
"She didn't say it, but I can sense it. She's colder to me than to others."
"Heh, she's more familiar with O'Neal and the others, so it's normal for them to talk more. You need to be more confident. Don't think about her being a tennis champion or the people around her being sports stars. You're a sports star too, a boxer with a lot of potential, just a step away from being a world champion. Once you become a champion, you'll earn money as fast as NBA players."
"I get it. That's why I decided to come back and train for boxing. I'm determined to become a champion!" Paul said, raising his fists.
"Go for it, for love!" Richard smiled, picking up the barbell and starting his workout.
The next day, Richard left Paul at the villa to continue training while he drove to the set of X-Men to continue filming.
"Hey, Richard, the newspaper says you kicked Hitman in the air—is that true?" Hugh Jackman asked, waving a newspaper.
"It made the papers?"
Richard took the paper and glanced at it. It was an issue of American Express, mentioning the bar incident in the entertainment section.
It said that famous boxer Paul, wrestling champion Hitman, and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson had a dispute and got into a fight at the bar, also mentioning that Richard kicked Hitman to the ground.
The paper even had a photo of Richard's mid-air kick, perfectly striking Hitman's wrist. The pose was epic, with O'Neal, Kobe, and Fisher all looking up at the sky with their mouths wide open.
"Richard, that move was too cool. No wires, and you jumped right over O'Neal's head. Amazing," Jackman said, pointing at the photo.
"It wasn't that dramatic. I probably kicked about two and a half meters high. The photo angle just makes it look like I jumped over O'Neal's head," Richard laughed. The angle was perfect; the photographer deserved a drumstick.
"Hey, Richard, you're here. I need to talk to you," said John Meyer, the action director, holding a newspaper.
"What's up?"
"Richard, was that kick real? Did you use any tools?" Meyer asked, pointing to the photo.
"No, it's just the angle. It wasn't that high," Richard said, raising his leg and kicking. The move was inspired by Bruce Lee's lamp-kicking scene in Way of the Dragon. Lee could kick over three meters high. Richard's legwork wasn't as good, maxing out at about two and a half to two-point-six meters.
"Richard, it's a shame you don't do action films," Meyer praised.
"Aren't we shooting one right now?" Richard smiled as he lowered his leg.
Meyer shook his head. Cyclops had too few action scenes in the movie, not enough to showcase his skills.
"Richard, you don't have many scenes usually. Why not join us in designing the action sequences? The moves you designed last time were really cool, and the action team and directors all approved them. You've got potential as a stunt coordinator—want to give it a shot?" Meyer suggested.
Richard thought for a moment and nodded. Designing fight scenes wasn't hard; as long as you knew enough moves and had a rich imagination, basic moves combined with wires and special effects could look very cool.
After finishing a scene in the morning, he didn't take a break but instead joined the action team to learn how to design action sequences, how to better translate ideas into reality, and what special effects to add. He felt like he'd gained a lot of experience.
The more he learned, the more he realized that action scenes weren't that difficult. In the future, he might even consider becoming an action director.