A question: When is New York the quietest in a day?
Maybe, at 4 a.m.?
When everything is silent and the entire city is lost in dreams.
But not necessarily; under the cover of night, the hustle, crime, and noise continue to surge in its veins.
However, during the morning hours, after the rush hour has passed, around 10 or 11 a.m., when all the hustle and bustle are concentrated on Wall Street and the towering skyscrapers, the residential areas quiet down.
Everything falls silent; even the sound of a stray cat landing is particularly clear.
At least, that's how it feels to Anson.
After reversing his days and nights, he only closes his eyes and falls into dreams when the sun rises. It's an unusual kind of quiet, even in his dreams—calm and serene, like clouds rolling by and wind blowing gently, sinking into sleep.
Until—
Knock knock. Knock knock.
The heavy knocking, as loud as thunder.
It woke Anson up immediately, but he didn't get out of bed. Instead, he pulled the blanket over his head, trying to block out the noise.
Bang bang.
The knocking didn't stop, persistently pounding away, as if the entire door was trembling slightly. Clearly, the person wouldn't give up.
Whew.
Anson threw off the blanket and let out a long breath.
He realized he was starting to develop laziness.
In his previous life, he was always on alert, like a startled bird. He couldn't even sleep soundly or stay in bed, and even when awake, he had to stay vigilant. His nerves were never relaxed.
But now?
Not an ounce of vigilance.
But... that's a good thing, right? It means those shadows of the past are fading away.
Stretching lazily, he casually picked up his robe and went down the stairs.
While shooting in New York, Anson didn't need to stay in a hotel anymore. He could return to his apartment every day and sleep in a familiar environment.
Last night was no different—
Despite some bumps, the shooting went smoothly overall. Anson and Kate found the right rhythm in their performances.
From indoors to outdoors, they shot all the way through.
They not only finished all the scheduled scenes but also managed to shoot some of the evening scenes in one go, making great progress.
The crew was busy until 5 a.m., wrapping up the night's work.
As soon as he got home and collapsed onto the bed, Anson was already exhausted, out like a light.
Even now, Anson's eyes were still squinting. His eyes and cheeks seemed a bit puffy, showing signs of the hard work from last night.
Then, he opened the door without pausing and turned back inside.
The guest standing at the door had a face full of confusion, "Aren't you worried it could be paparazzi or a crazy fan?"
That voice—it was unmistakably Edgar Cook.
Anson answered Edgar with a thud.
Edgar entered the hall and immediately saw Anson curled up on the couch like a cat, making him feel a bit helpless.
"Don't worry. The reason my family chose this apartment was for the security system. They say it's top-notch in New York. Although I don't know why they were so concerned, it seems to save trouble now."
As early as last year, while shooting "Spider-Man," the paparazzi had found out where Anson's New York apartment was, but no one had managed to get in since then.
Outwardly relaxed, the apartment appeared casual and ordinary but was heavily guarded—
Perfect for those who value their privacy in high society.
Edgar thought carefully.
He entered the apartment without any special treatment; it seemed like an ordinary building with only basic inquiries and registration at the front desk.
It seemed pretty normal.
However, from beginning to end, he felt like his every move was being watched. If he acted suspiciously, got lost, or was turned away by Anson, who knows what would happen next.
Unintentionally, a chill ran down his spine.
But Edgar didn't dwell on it. At least it ensured Anson's privacy in New York.
Originally, Edgar had an urgent matter, but seeing Anson now, he didn't feel so rushed, "Were you filming late last night?"
Anson murmured a response, paused, and asked again, "What time is it?"
"Just past 3 p.m.," Edgar checked his watch.
Anson exhaled softly, "I can sleep for a few more hours, but apparently, you have something urgent. If you don't start talking, I might fall asleep again."
Edgar's mouth twitched a bit but couldn't help smiling, "Seeing you so calm means there's nothing to worry about, right?"
Anson didn't answer, his head buried in the couch, seemingly asleep again.
Edgar didn't push, patiently waiting.
Then, Anson's slightly hoarse voice came muffled from the couch, "Oh, Kate?"
Anson lazily sat up, "News travels that fast to Los Angeles? Judging by the time, you heard it this morning and came right over?"
Edgar shook his head, "No, I flew over on Tom Hanks' private jet."
"Ha," Anson laughed directly, "That urgent, huh?"
Edgar replied, "Anson, you're my actor. You chose this project, and if the leading actress has issues, I need to be here first to help you handle it and protect your interests. You just need to tell me our stance."
This isn't the kind of trouble easily resolved over the phone.
Anson was momentarily stunned, then rubbed his face like a cat washing its face and chuckled softly, "It's not that serious. We don't have a stance."
"But."
"Captain, thank you. Thank you for taking this seriously and coming over right away."
"I know what agents are usually like."
Even top-tier stars like Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt don't have agents at their beck and call because there's a division of responsibilities. Personal matters are handled by assistants and managers, while agents oversee the big picture from behind the scenes, using phone calls, faxes, and emails as their weapons.
So even in emergencies, agents don't necessarily need to be on-site. They often stay in Los Angeles, managing the situation via phone.
In other words, work is work; agents maintain their distance.
But real life isn't that simple. When an agent is willing to be hands-on, things often turn out differently.
Just like Edgar now.
That's very rare.
The longer Anson stayed in Hollywood, the more he realized it wasn't a given. Beyond the ties of interests, there's the camaraderie of battle.
A simple "thank you," but Edgar's eyes smiled even more.
From the moment he learned the news to confirming the movements of Kate Winslet's agent to finding the quickest way to get to New York overnight, Edgar was now running on adrenaline, his mind racing.
During the flight across the North American continent, Edgar had imagined various scenarios and thought through different solutions. The whole night, he couldn't calm down. This tricky situation could lead the crew to various outcomes.
In the worst case, the project could get scrapped before it even progressed, which had happened before.
Wild thoughts raced.
But now, it was all worth it.
"So, you mean there's nothing to worry about? How is Kate?"