King of Hollywood
Chapter 293 - Chapter 293 Chapter 19 The Forever Beloved of French Men

Chapter 293: Chapter 19 The Forever Beloved of French Men Chapter 293: Chapter 19 The Forever Beloved of French Men The gentle breeze brushed through the plane trees lining both banks of the Seine River, their verdant leaves swaying slightly under the mild sunlight. Passersby walked briskly or strolled leisurely along the riverside; small boats created ripples as they made their way toward their destinations, with tourists on larger boats eagerly capturing the picturesque surroundings through their lenses. Everything seemed so harmonious and beautiful.

The lovely lady withdrew her gaze from the floor-to-ceiling glass window and absently stirred her spoon, then looked toward the entrance of the cafe. Just like before, there was nothing unusual, and she frowned slightly, seeming somewhat dissatisfied.

“I’ll give them another call, Sophie,” the middle-aged man seated next to her said, noticing her demeanor.

“No, don’t bother, let’s wait a little longer. Perhaps they got held up by something,” the lady replied indifferently. After glancing at her hesitant agent beside her, she added, “If they still haven’t arrived by the agreed time, we’ll just leave. They can’t complain then.”

“Alright,” the middle-aged man shrugged and joked, “From now on, I’ll start praying again that you won’t be recognized, or else half of Paris’s men might flood over here.”

Sophie couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. It was none other than Sophie Marceau, often referred to as “the eternal love of French men.” Although time had added a touch of maturity to her once innocent face, those brown eyes, seemingly always filled with melancholy, remained as bright as ever.

She was meeting with her agent, Dominic Beshard, discreetly in this unassuming cafe because she had received an invitation from the United States weeks earlier–precisely, from Hollywood. A quite famous director had personally called her, hoping she would star in his new movie, and had sent the script early through Beshard.

Thinking of the director, a slight smile appeared on Sophie’s lips; he was indeed an interesting man. She had been approached by many Hollywood directors in the past, but she had always disregarded them. The reasons were many. However, this time, her curiosity was piqued because the director had, two years prior, won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival with a gang movie. He was outrageously young, which had also set a new record for the youngest recipient of this award. In Hollywood, he was known as the “Miracle Director.”

Adrian Cowell was his name. If that were all, Sophie wouldn’t have thought much about it, but intriguingly, tucked inside the screenplay was a poem, “Liberty” by the contemporary French poet Paul Eluard.

“Though historically inaccurate, I believe Eluard’s poem perfectly embodies this story,” he had written in French beneath the poem. Moreover, the entire poem was neatly written in French, suggesting he was well-educated, serious yet lively and romantic.

Especially after reading the script, she was even more convinced of this impression. Initially, whether it was the passion of Wallace or his heroism, or the romantic entanglements with his wife and the princess, all had intrigued Sophie. However, when her curiosity led her to check historical records, she was surprised–Isabella, known as the “French She-Wolf,” and the delicate princess simply did not connect. Moreover, when she had married into England, Wallace had already been executed. How could she have had a romantic relationship, much less bear his child?

“It’s just a story, Sophie, a new tale told using historical events. Its central theme is the blue of the Tricolour flag,” he had explained over the phone, his hearty laughter making him easily likable.

So, when he suggested setting up a meeting to discuss it further, she readily agreed. After returning from Poland, she had barely taken any film offers. Just thinking about Poland made a shadow pass across Sophie’s brow.

Ten more minutes passed, and a young man entered the cafe with some people, glanced around, and then headed toward them.

“Sorry, we’re late,” the young man said, bowing slightly. Upon seeing Sophie, his eyes lit up, “Though it may be a bit forward, I must say, you are truly beautiful, Miss Sophie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Adrian,” Sophie smiled as she stood and shook his hand. Although she had seen his photo before, she scrutinized him carefully. His features were sharply defined, sculpted as if from marble–not exceptionally handsome but with a faint, confidently smiling mouth, which had a peculiarly attractive quality. Especially those pitch-black eyes; Sophie had never seen such dark eyes, deep like the bottom of a lake.

“Something unexpected happened midway, and we had to change cars to get here. I am really sorry for making you wait so long,” he said after sitting down, his tone sincere.

“It’s okay, Dominic and I didn’t wait too long,” Sophie replied with a light smile, “It actually gave me a chance to relax.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow as if he caught something but immediately turned to her agent and started chatting. Sophie didn’t say anything further, just sipped her coffee quietly listening to their conversation. Dominic knew what questions to ask; from the story’s perspective, she was still willing to take on the role. Going to Hollywood wasn’t a big deal, people always need to try something new. However, before that, she wanted to understand more about this Miracle Director.

They talked for about ten minutes or so. Adrian didn’t say much, it was mostly Dominic and his assistant, Hank Harris, who spoke. Adrian just chimed in occasionally to add some details. However, throughout the conversation, Adrian’s focus was entirely on Dominic, completely ignoring Sophie who was right in front of him.

Yes, completely ignoring her, Sophie could feel it and his focused demeanor was certainly not pretence. This made her even more curious and also slightly upset.

“I don’t have any more questions, Sophie,” Dominic said, standing up and nodding at Sophie Marceau. Hank Harris stood as well and nodded to Adrian before the two of them moved aside.

“So, do you have any concerns, beautiful Miss Sophie?” Adrian finally looked at her again, smiling unabashedly with admiration, “Let me say once more, you are truly beautiful.”

“I won’t say thank you this time,” Sophie teased him lightly, “Just call me Sophie, Mr. Adrian, and by the way, your French is quite good.”

“Now it’s my turn to say thank you. Please, call me Ed,” Adrian joked in return, “As one of the world’s most beautiful languages, French truly deserves its reputation. The same sonnet, recited in English and French, has a completely different taste. Sometimes language is just that peculiar.”

“It sounds like you know a lot about linguistics?” Sophie asked with a smile, not moving the conversation to the movie just yet.

“Not really, I just happen to speak the two most mysterious languages in the world,” Adrian shrugged, “Although French people might be a bit boastful about their elegant French, it’s undeniable that French is much more precise in terms of vocabulary. That’s why many international legal documents need a French version for reference. Besides, the intonation in British English, that too was influenced by French, wasn’t it?”

He paused before adding, “As for the other language, it’s naturally Chinese.”

“Chinese? You speak Chinese?” Sophie appeared surprised.

“Yes, to this language touted as one of the hardest in the world, I have some acquaintance, probably because my grandmother was half Chinese,” Adrian crossed his hands on the table, a gesture that looked elegant, “Chinese characters are ideographic, combining images with sounds to express meanings–well, that’s just my view, I’m no expert, so please don’t laugh if I’m wrong.”

Seeing his earnest expression, Sophie couldn’t help but giggle softly, her laughter blooming like hundreds of flowers. Her attention was now more on Adrian, completely unaware that he had taken control of the pace of their conversation.

“Chinese is hard to learn, but once mastered, you can feel its uniqueness. For instance, to explain the world in Chinese, a few hundred thousand words would suffice, but for alphabetic languages, millions might not be enough. Take another simple example, their poetry is very short and has fixed arrangements. Much has to be conveyed in just a few phrases. It sounds a bit masochistic, but if you understand Chinese, you would realize the beauty contained in ancient Chinese poetry,” Adrian spoke unhurriedly, his earnestness quite contagious.

“Listening to you, I even want to start learning Chinese,” said Sophie, her tone tinged with emotion. She seemed to realize something then quickly shifted the conversation back to the topic of film, “Alright, let’s get back to business, Ed. What’s the first question? I think you should know, right?”

“Oh, of course,” Adrian laughed, “I remember mentioning over the phone that this is simply a continuation of history to tell a brand-new story. Some things never fade, like liberty and equality. As for what history really looks like, that’s not important. Pessimists often say history is a young girl who lets anyone dress her up. Although I disagree, there’s no need to delve into exactly what it looks like. Let’s just consider it as unofficial history; after all, there’s plenty of such history around the world. All I need to do is to make sure the audience is satisfied with this story.”

“Just that?” Sophie asked, her expression unreadable as if pondering something.

“I know what you mean, but, Sophie, no matter what you want to express in the movie, a good story is always the most important,” Adrian said seriously, his smile fading, “If we can’t draw the audience to the theaters, if they can’t understand what the film is about, depth is useless.”

“Alright, next question.” Sophie shrugged without pressing further.

“Why invite you, right?” Adrian blurted out before she could, his dark eyes fixed on her intently.

Sophie was slightly taken aback, but she didn’t deny it, “Yes, that is indeed the second question.”

She adjusted her position and looked at Adrian with a fluid gaze, “There are many outstanding French actresses, like Isabella Adjani, who nearly won Best Actress at Cannes last month with ‘Queen Margot’?”

“Adjani is not suitable for this role,” Adrian quickly said, “Her characteristics make her more fit for neurotic roles, like a paranoid, not like the princess in this story–delicate, ethereal, yet strong. I’ve watched all your films, not missing a single one, whether it is the innocence and purity in ‘First Kiss’, the boldness in ‘Mad Love’, or the cheerfulness and gentleness in ‘Fanfan’ last year. They are all so special; that’s why I believe you are the perfect fit for this role!”

He sat upright, looking at her with a proud expression, “My judgment has never been wrong, Sophie. I fully trust you can capture the essence of this character. We will make an outstanding film together!”

“You really are confident, Ed,” Sophie blinked, lowered her head, and sipped her now barely warm coffee before giving her response, “Alright, since the Miracle Director says so, I have no reason to refuse.”

“Yes!” Adrian instantly clenched his fist and threw it down, his face breaking into a smile as he blurted out in English. The gesture startled Sophie, but she quickly covered her mouth and giggled.

“Sorry, I just got a bit excited,” Adrian quickly explained, seeing her reaction.

“Don’t worry, I’m just a bit surprised,” Sophie laughed and shook her head, “I never expected you to have this side.”

“Everyone has a side unknown to others,” Adrian shrugged, then joked, “It’s good you weren’t too startled; I wouldn’t know how to make it up to you otherwise.”

“Speaking of making things up,” Sophie joked back, “how are you planning to make up for what happened before, Ed? Making a lady wait is not gentlemanly behavior, no matter the reason.”

“So it is…” Adrian scratched his head, which in Sophie’s eyes made him seem more childish. The corners of her mouth widened suddenly, but the response that followed caught her by surprise.

“Then, lovely Miss Sophie Marceau, may I invite you for dinner this evening or tomorrow?” Adrian said, standing up and bowing formally.

“Dinner?” Sophie looked at him with a smirk, “Don’t you think it’s a bit abrupt, Ed?”

“Perhaps a little, but if I didn’t ask, I would certainly tell myself later: you’re such a fool, that beautiful woman was sitting right in front of you, and you didn’t even have the courage to invite her to dinner! So, it doesn’t matter if you refuse.” Adrian said earnestly, “So, will you refuse, Sophie?”

“Um…” Sophie meant to decline, but the words that came out were, “Alright, tonight it is.”

“That’s the most wonderful answer in the world.” Adrian said, his hands waving exaggeratedly, “It feels like a dream; I must be dreaming.”

Sophie couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Then, don’t be late tonight, Ed.” After arranging the time, Sophie joked as she left the cafe and got into her car, the smile remaining on her face.

“Absolutely not.” Adrian’s reply was definite.

It took Sophie about twenty minutes to return to her luxurious but low-profile apartment in the Vaugirard District. As she got out of the car, Dominic seemed to want to say something but ultimately didn’t.

Sophie knew what the manager wanted to say; in fact, she was also wondering why she had inexplicably agreed? Was it to see his somewhat childish exaggerated gestures, or because he was so genuine and direct?

“I must be mad, it’s just a joke, and now I’m flirting with him.” Once home, she collapsed on the couch and sighed, speaking to herself. The previous scenes replayed in her mind, and after briefly flashing by, a smile surfaced again on Sophie’s lips. He really was an interesting person, sometimes articulate and well-read, sometimes serious and proud, mature and steady, only in the last few minutes did it become apparent he was still a young man.

Thinking this, her brows furrowed slightly; the troubling thoughts she had forgotten, which disturbed her, resurfaced. By the end of the year, she would be 28 years old; how many 28 years does a woman have? It wouldn’t be far from a decade, and in this decade… Sophie shook her head to dismiss those thoughts; she had enough arguments in Poland, so she returned to Paris, it was better not to think about it.

Even so, these sudden feelings of disturbance still affected her mood. Sophie poured herself a glass of red wine, sitting alone on the couch, slowly sipping, looking ahead with no focus, her exquisite face seemed lifeless, the somber eyes making her look even more melancholic. After a while, she put down the glass and lay down on the couch for a nap. Curled up with her arms around her chest, her eyes closed, she seemed like a fetus in the womb but her fragility in this empty room made her seem even more vulnerable and pitiful.

When Sophie woke up, the sun was almost setting. She then started to freshen up and change her clothes. Perhaps the previous nap had momentarily discarded the troubling thoughts, so her mood was quite good. While washing up, she even hummed a song. After trying a few outfits in front of the wardrobe mirror, she chose a beige high-V-neck dress, added a black belt, and white high-heeled sandals, then styled her hair up, looking both stunningly beautiful and playfully elegant.

“It’s just dinner after all.” Sophie said to her own reflection in the mirror. (To be continued, for more details visit www.NovelFire.net, more chapters available, support the author, support genuine reading!)

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