"Cut!"
"Richard, make your expression more solemn. If you can't do it, we'll cut to the professor."
Director Singer shouted from the sidelines of the set.
"Okay, director, can I take off the sunglasses?" Richard asked, pointing at his sunglasses.
"No, Cyclops must always wear sunglasses, even when he's in bed with Jean Grey."
"Okay, I understand."
Richard made a hand gesture, and the crew resumed filming the scene where Professor X uses telepathy but falls into a coma due to Mystique's trickery. In this scene, Cyclops tries not to worry the professor, needing to suppress his sadness and keep his emotions in check. The challenge was to express this while wearing sunglasses, which made it difficult to convey emotions.
Richard took a moment to prepare, took a deep breath, and smiled lightly as the crew started filming again.
"Professor, you should be able to hear me, right?"
Cyclops sat by a hospital bed, holding Professor X's hand.
Professor X lay on the bed, eyes open but motionless, with various tubes and wires connected to his bald head.
"You've taught me a lot, enough to handle everything, so don't worry. Leave it to me. I'll take care of everything."
Cyclops spoke slowly, looking at the professor.
"Cut!"
"Not bad, Richard. Maybe you'll get a few more shots."
The director called out.
Richard smirked and helped the actor playing Professor X, the seasoned British actor Patrick Stewart, sit up. Stewart had been lying there for half an hour, staring at the ceiling without moving.
"Mr. Stewart, can I ask what you were thinking while lying there? You looked like you were really in a coma."
"Haha, I was making a bet with myself. If you passed in three takes, I'd eat an extra steak for dinner. Four takes, and I'd eat an extra apple."
"What about two takes?"
"I'd say, Richard, well done!"
"Haha, thank you!"
After finishing the day's shooting, Richard returned to his hillside villa. He had planned to take Paul out to avoid boredom, but he found Paul packing his bags, looking like he was about to leave.
"Paul, what are you doing?" Richard frowned.
"Richard, I'm leaving. Mike and Norman were right; it's too quiet here. Living halfway up the mountain, it takes a kilometer or two to find someone to talk to. I'm suffocating. I'm moving to Mike's place. They have bars, dance halls, an amusement park, and it's close to Santa Monica Beach. I checked it out at noon—it's fantastic, full of bikini-clad girls. Richard, you should have bought a house there. Oceanfront properties are cheaper than here."
Paul explained as he packed.
"Is it really that bad? I've been here for two months and haven't suffocated."
Richard said with a dark face.
"We're different. You were always quiet, spending a whole day in the study. I can't do that. Two hours without talking to someone, and I feel like dying."
Paul replied, smacking his lips.
"You can call people!"
"Talking on the phone is boring. Once the conversation lags, it gets awkward. I prefer face-to-face interaction."
"What about your training?"
"There's a gym, a boxing club nearby, and Andy is setting up a new boxing bar. Soon, I'll be able to train at the bar."
"Fine. I wanted you to keep me company, but you've only been here three days and already want to leave."
Richard shook his head and turned to get into his Mercedes.
"Richard, it's not my fault. It's too challenging to stay here. I wanted to leave yesterday."
Paul said as he got into the car.
"Fuck, we went to a game and a bar yesterday. You played all day at the foot of the mountain, and you're still bored?"
"Yes, I got bored as soon as we got back. I trained because I had nothing else to do."
"Isn't it because of love?"
"Aren't those two things not mutually exclusive?"
"Fine."
Richard drove away from the villa, taking the downhill road for ten minutes until they reached the bustling Rodeo Drive.
This was the most upscale shopping street in Los Angeles and one of the top ten shopping paradises in the world, with blue skies, white clouds, palm trees, luxury shops, high-end restaurants, bars, and galleries on both sides.
The street was full of luxury cars, and the pedestrians were mostly dressed in designer clothes with exquisite makeup. If you looked closely, you might recognize a few celebrities.
"Isn't this lively? Can't you come here when you're bored?"
Richard pointed to the bustling pedestrian street.
"You're not here. What's the point of wandering around alone?"
"Mike isn't home much either. You'll be bored there too."
"No problem. I can make friends there, but on the mountain, everyone is a wealthy white person, impossible to befriend."
Paul shrugged.
Richard had nothing to say. He turned left onto Santa Monica Boulevard, heading west to Santa Monica.
This area, near the Pacific Ocean, had many beautiful beaches, blue sea, blue sky, and palm forests, making it a tourist hotspot year-round.
The coastal area had many high-end communities, luxury homes, and lively tourist areas with bars, dance halls, and entertainment venues.
Mike lived in a bustling street-side apartment with a dance hall downstairs, often crowded, even in the elevator.
"Hehe, this is where I want to live."
In the elevator, Paul looked at the crowded space and smiled.
Richard shook his head. It was lively here, but the smells were too complex—smoke, foot odor, body odor, fishy smell—all fermenting in the heat. Although he came from the Bronx, he never got used to such smells.
Ding~ When the elevator doors opened, and all the people and smells poured out, he finally felt comfortable.
"Hey, Paul, how do you like it here?"
Mike, wearing a vest and shorts, greeted them with open arms at the elevator door.
"Haha, not bad. There are all kinds of people here, speaking different languages. This is where people should live."
Paul grinned.
"Haha, you're right. Hey, Richard, why don't you move here too?"
Mike laughed.
"No, I think the mountain is just fine."
Richard looked at the noisy street outside and said.
"Richard, you can't be like this. Haven't you noticed you're becoming more withdrawn? This is the result of being away from the crowd. Plus, I'm thinking about your interests."
Mike said as he led them forward, "Think about it, you only have one place to stay, making it inconvenient for sneaking around. If you have another place, when Bundchen calls, you can say you're here. Isn't that great?"
"Richard, Mike's idea is good."
Paul laughed.
Richard raised his eyebrows, "Mike, your job is to remind me not to stray too far, not to teach me how to avoid getting caught."
"Paul, do you think Richard is too wild?"
Mike laughed. "Not at all. Compared to other young millionaires, he lives like a monk. Before coming to Los Angeles, I thought his mansion would have at least two or three beautiful maidservants, eating shark fin, abalone, and foie gras every day, and taking wine baths. I was ready to enjoy that kind of life too. But when I arrived, I found that the only people here were Fatima the housekeeper and two kittens, and we ate the same stuff I ate back in the Bronx. So I wondered, if Richard doesn't indulge in the pleasures of life, why earn so much money?"
Paul chuckled.
"I bought a luxury car and a mansion, and I wear carefully selected clothes. Isn't that enough?"
Richard frowned.
"Not even close, Richard. You could learn from Norman. He doesn't do anything serious, but he knows how to have fun—drinking, gambling, women, drugs, you name it."
"Paul, we're here. This is the new apartment I rented for you. My place is just a couple of doors down. What do you think?"
Mike opened the door to an apartment with a large living room, bedroom, and bathroom. The decor was new and looked pretty good.
"Nice, very nice."
Paul plopped down on the sofa, which bounced under his weight. He ran to the window. "Hey, Mike, you can see the beach from here!"
"Haha, that's the surprise I had for you. Look over there, that's one of the busiest beaches in Santa Monica. And over there, you can see a bunch of bikini girls playing volleyball. Here, binoculars, I got these for you."
Mike handed Paul a high-quality military-style binocular.
"Wow, it's so clear. This place is amazing."
Paul exclaimed as he looked through the binoculars, "Compared to Richard's backyard in Los Angeles, the view here is much better, and it changes every day. Haha, I love it here."
Richard rubbed his forehead. "Paul, don't forget your goals and your love."
"Of course not. Isn't it better to look at beautiful girls after training every day?"
Paul laughed, holding the binoculars.
"Haha, Richard, your goal used to be the world boxing champion, so you trained every day without rest for over a decade. Now that you've achieved it, why keep doing this? Or what's your next goal?"
Mike handed over a bottle of water.
Richard took the water and thought for a moment. "Make more money so I can achieve more small goals."
"You're already a millionaire at twenty-one. How much more do you want?"
"A hundred million or a billion, the more, the better."
"Alright, after you make a billion, then what? Keep making money from twenty to sixty, until you're on your deathbed? What's the point of all that money? Leave it for your kids and grandkids?"
Mike shrugged and smiled.
Richard fell silent, holding the water bottle. Why make money? For world peace?
"Mike, you're right. Richard is like a robot. Since I met him at twelve, he's been persistent, brave, disciplined, but he doesn't know how to live freely. Wow, look at that girl peeing under the palm tree, thinking no one can see. Tsk tsk, so white!"
Paul laughed evilly, holding the binoculars.
"Richard, want to see?"
Mike handed over another binocular.
"Uh, no thanks. I don't have the habit of spying on people peeing."
Richard waved it off.
"It's not peeing, it's the other one."
Richard wiped some cold sweat. "Paul, hurry up and tidy your room. We need to buy furniture and daily necessities."
"No rush, we can buy those when we need them."
Paul stayed glued to the window.
"Yeah, there's a supermarket and a second-hand market downstairs. No need to hurry."
Mike also held the binoculars.
Richard shook his head, rolled up his sleeves, and started cleaning. The other two only came to help after they finished their spying.
"By the way, Richard, I found a promising new actress. Do you want to meet her?"
Mike asked while mopping.
"No need to meet. Just give me her information."
Richard said while wiping the windows.
"You can't tell much from just a resume. It might say she excels at ballet, but can you believe that? I think it's better to see her in person and watch her perform."
"That's too much trouble. We're not running a talent show."
"It's not troublesome. The girl lives downstairs."
"Alright, we can meet her, but not here. Let's go to the bar downstairs after we finish cleaning. It's too hot."
"OK!"
——