Hugo looked at the small slip of paper tucked inside the script of Dead Poets Society, staring at the string of phone numbers written on it. His mind drew a complete blank. If it weren't for the name "Adam Lancaster" written above, Hugo would have thought it was some kind of lottery number. Clearly, this phone number had been just as unfamiliar to the body's original owner, who probably hadn't called it more than a few times after getting it.
Today was already Tuesday, and the day after tomorrow would be Thanksgiving. If Hugo didn't make the call now, he would very likely miss the chance. In truth, Hugo had been subconsciously avoiding the matter, dragging it out until now. If Joseph hadn't mentioned it, he probably wouldn't have "remembered" until Thanksgiving Day itself.
Before crossing over, Hugo's relationship with his father had never improved. Though he had spoken to his mother on the phone many times, he had never truly had a conversation with his father, which had become the deepest regret in his heart. Hugo knew he ought to call the parents of this body—after all, he was now Hugo Lancaster, and Chen Hugo's regrets should not be carried over to Lancaster. But to Hugo, it was as if he had forgotten how to talk to a father. So he hesitated, wavered, and even felt timid.
After several deep breaths, Hugo knew avoidance was no solution. Unless he wanted to ignore this year's Thanksgiving altogether, the call was unavoidable. Besides, it had already been ten months since he'd crossed over, and he had never once contacted his parents—that was far too unreasonable. So, in the end, Hugo picked up the receiver of the landline, gritted his teeth, and dialed the number.
The phone rang only twice, crisp and clear, before it was answered. The speed startled Hugo. From the other end came a deep, gruff voice, with a sharp, cutting decisiveness that made it seem as though the receiver itself might tremble. "Adam Lancaster. Speak." That voice, so full of vigor, at least proved that his father's health was strong.
"Hey, Dad." Hugo hesitated for a moment before calling out. Though it felt strange to call a "stranger" father, once the word left his lips, it surprisingly didn't cause him any repulsion. On the contrary, he felt a certain resonance in his blood. Hugo didn't know whether it was because the man resembled his own father, or because this body could feel the bond of blood.
"Hugo?" Adam's voice on the other end was filled with doubt. "It's neither Thanksgiving nor Christmas today." He seemed quite surprised that Hugo would call at this time.
"Yes, Thanksgiving is in two days." Confronted by his father's blunt question, Hugo felt a little embarrassed—why did it sound like Adam wasn't exactly welcoming this call?
"Yes, I know. That's why I'm wondering—there are still two days left, aren't there?" Adam said gruffly, even with a trace of impatience. "So, calling today—what is it you want?" As always, Adam was direct, cutting straight to the point.
"Oh, no…" Hugo had already found this call difficult enough to make, and with so much resistance pressing against him, he felt even more stuck. "I… I just wanted to ask about your plans for Thanksgiving."
"Well, they don't involve having dinner with you." Adam's single sentence left Hugo stunned, unsure how to respond. "Or is it that you need money? How long has it been since you last had work? For God's sake, if you need money, just say it directly—don't beat around the bush like some damn sissy."
"Dad!" Hugo was angered by Adam's rough tone. He had simply wanted to talk with his father, but instead his father twisted his intentions and to be precise, hadn't even given him a chance to explain. It reminded Hugo of his father before he crossed over; he had been the same. "I'm not asking you for money. I have work…"
"You mean acting? Hmph." Adam's voice was full of disdain, even curling his lip in contempt. Hugo could pretty much guess—this was why they never contacted each other. Adam didn't support Hugo becoming an actor; in fact, he rejected it outright. Because of this, their father-son relationship had essentially frozen. Hugo had experienced this once before, and now here it was again.
"Yes, acting." Hugo's voice rose involuntarily—not only because he was angered, but also because of the scorn in his father's tone. "I want to tell you that my acting career is going very well…"
"That's good. That's your business. If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up." Adam didn't even wait for Hugo to finish before—"Bang!"—he hung up directly.
Hugo stared at the receiver, from which the busy tone kept sounding, utterly dumbfounded. This was absolutely not the outcome he had anticipated. But a stubborn surge of temper rose instantly in him. He glanced at the number on the table and dialed again.
When the call connected, Hugo didn't even wait for his father to speak. He spoke all in one breath: "I'm calling to ask whether you'd be willing to come to Los Angeles and spend Thanksgiving with me. You know we haven't seen each other in a long time. If you don't want to, then just tell me—there's no need to criticize my work.
"And I also want to tell you that I not only have work now, but I'm doing very well. Not long ago my film Scent of a Woman was just released, and next month another, A Few Good Men, will be released. I'm also preparing for auditions for other projects. I'm doing great—really great. I'm not short of money. On the contrary, I'm achieving excellent results in my career, and many people have praised me. So if you could show some respect for my work, I'd be all the more grateful."
Hugo rattled this off in a rush, and only when he finally ran out of breath did he stop, panting slightly.
"Are you finished?" Adam's voice remained cool and indifferent. After speaking, he gave a short snort, as though completely unmoved by Hugo's long speech. "So what is it you want—my praise that you've done well? You're an adult,a pet dog. You don't need that kind of praise, and I'm not going to give it. I've told you before—I don't care about your work. If you have no money, I'm your father, and at the very least I won't let you starve. But beyond that, don't try to convince me."
"As for Thanksgiving, I'm busy." Adam took a breath and said simply, "Let's skip meeting up. It's not like I don't know what you look like, so there's no need to see you."
Hugo was choked silent by his father's words, unable to catch his breath. "What do you mean there's no need to meet? You're my father, I'm your son, and I want to see you. Isn't that normal?"
"But do you really want to?" Adam's rhetorical question made Hugo instantly tongue-tied; the word "yes" stuck in his throat but refused to come out. Missing that first moment to answer, Hugo was then given no chance to respond further, as Adam continued, "Anything else? If not…"
Sensing that his father was about to hang up, Hugo quickly cut him off. "What about Mom? Do you have any news about her?" Hugo had combed through the Dead Poets Society script inside and out, and found no information about his mother—no phone number, no address, no photo, nothing. If Hugo wasn't certain that his body's mother, Lina, hadn't suffered any accident, he might have suspected she had already passed away.
This question made Adam fall silent for a moment, and then he suddenly erupted in anger, gritting his teeth, "I told you, don't bring her up in front of me. You'd better remember that." The ironclad tone made Hugo frown, and he tried to say something more, "But—"
He had barely begun before Adam cut him off brusquely, "A customer just came into the shop. I'm hanging up." After pausing for about half a second, Adam added gruffly, "And since you've already called today, don't call again on Thanksgiving." With that, he hung up without hesitation.
Hugo stared at the receiver in his hand, not sure how to react—he just stood there.
It seemed that Hugo's relationship with his parents was even worse than he had imagined. No matter what had happened between Adam and Lina, the fact was that Lina hadn't taken the initiative to contact Hugo either, and Hugo himself had found no signs that his predecessor had reached out to his mother. That meant Hugo's relationship with both his father and mother was poor—to the point where his connection with his father might even be slightly closer.
This also explained why, over the past year, Hugo hadn't contacted his parents at all without it seeming strange to anyone.
Hugo rubbed his ears. Adam's loud, forceful shouting still echoed inside them, making them ring unpleasantly. Originally, he had thought that for Thanksgiving, he should take the initiative to reach out to his family. He'd even been worried about how to handle them—after all, while his transmigrated soul could fool friends, deceiving family wasn't so simple. But it turned out all his worries had been for nothing. Now it seemed that even if Hugo tried to reconnect with his father, it would probably end badly—and he should count himself lucky if he wasn't thrown out.
Was that supposed to be good news? At least he didn't have to deal with family matters. After all, Hugo didn't have genuine feelings for Adam and Lina as parents. But why did his heart still feel so empty? Was it because of his predecessor's feelings, or because of his own regrets about his family before transmigration?
Even though his career was finally showing signs of light, the problems surrounding Hugo remained numerous, and none of them could be solved easily. Thinking about it now, the drug addiction—his most serious problem—had actually been the easiest to handle. With his own willpower, he had pulled through the hardest part. Compared to the suffering, pain, and torment of withdrawal back then, it almost seemed… not that difficult now.