Anson transmigrated.
The second before, he was in the film crew, standing in for an actor for a lighting test, when he heard a startled cry of "Watch out!" followed by his vision going dark and a sharp pain.
The next second, he appeared in a box-like bathroom, unconscious next to the toilet.
After sitting on the toilet lid for a full fifteen minutes, Anson finally sorted out the situation from the chaotic memories of the original owner: he had traveled from the magical city of 2023 to Los Angeles in 2000—
April Fools' Day, but not an April Fools' joke.
Anson Wood, the original owner, came for an audition at a production company on Darren Star's recommendation, but what specific work, what role, what situation—his brain was like a blank slate, truly devoid of any useful information.
He lowered his head to look at the Nokia candy bar phone in his hand, the "most lethal weapon in history," and its solid weight in his palm felt exceptionally real.
Creak.
The sound of a door opening came from the bathroom, and ongoing conversations from outside cut into the Room.
"...Didn't the auditions for Central Casting already finish two days ago? I thought the filming for episode twenty-one was next Monday, and yesterday I heard there was an argument on set, saying the filming schedule was too tight. Now the auditions are dragging on, what exactly is going on?"
"Heh heh, if you're an actor personally recommended by Jennifer Aniston, you can also be two days late for your audition."
"Oh, Jennifer, it's Jennifer again! This isn't the first time. If other actors find out, there'll probably be another argument."
"Wait, that shouldn't be, right? Aren't she and Brad already planning to get married? I thought she had already given up those habits! Could the gossip circulating on set recently be about him?"
"You saw it too, he didn't go to Central Casting at all, but David personally received him. If the producer personally receives him, doesn't that answer the question? Honestly, I think today's audition is just a formality."
"Ah, no wonder!"
"What's wrong?"
"Haven't you heard? The writing team had a big argument yesterday. I heard the head writer and David closed the office door and cursed at each other, pointing fingers. The atmosphere has been tense lately, and yesterday they almost came to blows. So David was taking the bullet for Jennifer."
"No, no, that's not right. Didn't I hear he was recommended by Darren?"
"Darren? Which Darren?"
"Darren Star?"
"Oh, that Darren."
"You haven't heard that rumor, have you?"
"What, is Darren that pretty boy's sugar daddy?"
"No, he's Darren's godson."
"Oh, another Emma Roberts? Jesus Christ, Hollywood is almost too full for these connections who only have good looks and straw for brains."
The thin door offered no soundproofing whatsoever, or more accurately, the enclosed space of the bathroom was practically an amphitheater, with its own surround sound effect, and every whisper of conversation drilled into his ears.
The information was a bit much.
Darren Star, Anson had just felt the name was familiar, and now he finally remembered.
As a producer, he had launched popular TV series such as "90210" and "Melrose Place" in the 1990s, and reached the peak of his career with "Sex and the City" at the turn of the century.
For younger audiences, he is probably most familiar with "Emily in Paris," which he produced in 2020.
So, this work, with a producer named David and Jennifer Aniston as a cast member, must be—
"Friends"!
He had heard rumors before that the "Friends" cast wasn't as harmonious as it seemed on the surface, and Jennifer Aniston, who became famous through the series, held a special position, even able to influence the producer's decisions. Now it seemed it wasn't just baseless rumors.
So, Darren Star recommended the original owner to his good friend David Crane—the producer of "Friends"—to secure an audition opportunity for a role in the series, but this audition opportunity caused a stir within the crew, escalating the conflict between the producer and the writing team, and even brewing a storm. In the end, David still managed to control the situation:
Insisting that the original owner come for the audition today.
Aha!
So, what should he do next?
Excuse me, how do you get an "elephant" out of a refrigerator?
Now, he was about to do just that—
Step one, open the door.
Step two, leave the bathroom.
No sooner said than done, he stopped posing like The Thinker, stood up and straightened his clothes, swept the scattered white powder into the toilet and flushed it away. The sound of the flush immediately cut off the conversation outside. Anson did not hesitate and pushed open the cubicle door.
The air was very quiet.
The three men standing in front of the urinals all turned in unison towards the source of the sound, dumbfounded, jaws agape, clearly not expecting this scene.
Frank Simons' brain briefly stopped working, and he instinctively wanted to scold, to preemptively control the situation.
But, seeing the man in front of him, the words caught in his throat—
Those deep, clear azure eyes were like the Aegean Sea bathed in sunlight on an August afternoon, shimmering with a hint of laziness and freshness, making people unconsciously relax, effortlessly capturing others' attention.
Even though this man was "eavesdropping," and at this moment was completely at a disadvantage, one against three, he exuded a sense of composure and ease, showing no trace of panic, immediately shifting all the pressure onto the three of them, and then they realized that the current situation seemed not so good.
They were caught red-handed gossiping.
The words of reprimand simply wouldn't come out.
And then.
The man strode forward with his long, tall legs, reaching the sink in just two or three steps. He was at least 6.2 feet (188 cm) tall, and the oppressive presence that emanated from him, even from a short distance, made the three men in front of the urinals feel uncomfortable, causing them to unconsciously step back half a step.
"Ah!"
Frank only felt a warm sensation on his calf, and his pants were wet.
A turn.
"Ah! Ah ah ah!"
Spraying everywhere.
A complete mess on the floor.
Frank looked down at his pants, which he had wet, and almost couldn't catch his breath. He turned his head and only saw the tall and upright figure pass by him. He himself didn't realize that he had moved half a step inward, clearing the way.
By the time he reacted, a wave of frustration washed over him, and he heard a soft chuckle.
"Mind the wet floor."
Frank: You!
His face flushed crimson, his fists clenched, but before he could even raise them, the man's figure had already disappeared.
Outside the door.
A cacophony of curses and profanities erupted from behind him. Even though he couldn't see anything, he could still imagine the chaos inside. Anson let out a soft breath.
The "elephant" has left the "refrigerator," so, what's next?
Emma Roberts?
Her aunt is the Hollywood superstar Julia Roberts, and it was precisely because of her aunt's connections that she got acting opportunities at a young age, entering Hollywood early.
And Anson Wood was the same.
Darren Star was not Anson's godfather, but he was a good friend of the Woods, and could be said to have watched him grow up. When he learned of Anson's interest in acting, he actively took it upon himself to introduce audition opportunities to Anson. For Darren, it was just a phone call, and thus today's opportunity came about.
In his previous life, he was just an ordinary worker in a film crew, standing behind the camera, observing actors basking in the spotlight, surrounded by cheers and applause. A single day's income for them was a figure he could never reach in his entire life. He could only stand in the mud and gaze at the stars.
Yet, he never imagined that now he actually had the chance to move from behind the scenes to center stage, not as a stand-in, but as himself, standing in front of the camera? And to return to eighteen, an age where a new and bright future unfolded before him, everything starting anew.
His steps paused slightly, he adjusted his direction, and without hesitation, walked further down the corridor.
It was only then that Anson had the chance to properly observe his surroundings—
Long, narrow corridors, cluttered props, broken lighting, and staff scurrying about—a film and television production company was no different from any other company, with nothing special about it.
At the end of the corridor, there was a glass-walled office, with all the blinds currently drawn. At the entrance, there was another separate desk, cluttered with various files and three landline phones.
Based on experience, that should be the senior executive's office, but at the moment, the secretary's desk was empty, and the coming and going staff didn't mind, simply leaving their files on the desk before turning and leaving. Even in the chaos, there was its own way of operating.
Anson stepped forward and sat down on the chair against the wall opposite the secretary's desk, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to recall more information about the audition—
Since it's an audition, what project, what role? Were audition pieces pre-requested or self-prepared?
However, before his thoughts could fully unfold, the office door opened. Anson instinctively looked over, but no one walked out. Instead, someone was holding the doorknob, with their back to the door, looking inside, and an irritated voice came from within.
"...What the hell are you talking about?"
"Yes, I know, but..."
"I clearly told them it could just be a small role, but now they're changing the outline for one role. Isn't that just asking for trouble? A bunch of idiots. If next Monday's shoot falls through, I'll make them all beg on the streets."
"But, are you sure it's okay? That's Darren Star, just a small role…"
"Darren-fucking-Star, what about him? This is my show, understand? NBC is not like HBO. We're watching ratings every week here. If you just casually find some nobody as a guest star and the ratings plummet, are you going to clean up my mess, or is Darren Star going to lick my ass?"
"David, so now…"
"You let them finish the script first. Get out! Get out, quickly!"
Before the words finished, that person quickly left the office and closed the Room door, and then a muffled thud came from inside, and the glass wall vibrated slightly.
The person turned around and saw Anson, about to speak, but didn't expect the Room door to open again. That horse-like face, tanned bronze from sunbathing and speckled with freckles, peered out, brows furrowed, anger still not dissipated.
"Frank? Frank!"
"Where's Anson? When is his appointment? If he hasn't shown up yet, push it back half an hour. I need to make some calls."
Amidst the fury, a figure slowly stood up, tall and distinguished, with a faint smile on his lips.
"Good morning, Mr. Crane."