King of Hollywood Chapter 787: 193 A Situation

Chapter 787: Chapter 193 A Situation

Sucking in a deep breath, Adrian sat naked on the toilet lid and raised his head to look at himself in the mirror. He still looked spirited, just that his eyes weren’t as bright as before, and weariness had clawed its way onto his face for a rare appearance.

“Hey, Ed, how long do you plan to stay in there?” Nicole’s smug voice ca from the other side of the door, accompanied by the laughter of the won.

Damn you, all you won taking joy in my misfortune… Adrian rolled his eyes without making a sound, simply taking another breath and straightening his slightly bent body a bit more, trying to make himself appear more alert.

More giggling followed outside, this ti it was Alexander’s voice, “Co on out, Ed, the first contest this morning is to see who can rejuvenate you in a short ti, and you can’t be absent.”

Adrian inside instantly slumped again, and just the thought of the scene Alexander was referring to involuntarily provoked a response, followed by a sense of swelling pain from overuse down below.

He placed a lot of emphasis on personal care, backed by a team of nutritionists, adhering to a balanced diet, reasonable exercise, and proper rest. He was also introduced to visit so famous old Chinese doctors in Los Angeles and San Francisco’s Chinatown—undoubtedly well-reputed within the Chinese community, these eighty-sothing-year-old practitioners had loads of experience.

In his past life, he had seen so related stuff and heard people define the concepts of Chinese dicine scientifically, which seed pretty reasonable upon reflection. Chinese dicine, it has a scientific aspect, right? Was it empirical science or theoretical science?

Whatever, he had won over quite a few old folks with that talk, and throwing in so Chinese dical terms from ti to ti even sparked enthusiastic discussions with them. Then, Adrian was utterly bamboozled, after all, he barely knew anything about the subject, and knowing so terms was already pretty good.

However, as a result, he obtained quite a few excellent dietary recipes and suggestions from these old n. By taking the essence and combining it with western thods, he remained as vigorous as a dragon even at the age of maturity. From one-on-one to one against two, then to one against three or four, he basically had no trouble at all. That’s the power of science—praying to gods and practicing qigong in modern society are just so weak in comparison—yeah, that’s the word.

Plus, the won all had at so point harbored the idea of teaching Adrian a lesson, so they banded together and launched wave after wave of assaults on him. He might have been able to withstand it on the first day, and sohow managed on the second, but by the morning of the third day, Adrian had to hide in the bathroom due to physical reasons.

This was just so unfair. Outrage, an emotion almost foreign to him, surged within him. The problem wasn’t so much physical endurance, as he could simply let the won get on top when he had no energy left, but that thing…

Don’t worry, darlings, it’s not over yet. Thickening his skin and pretending not to hear their taunting outside, he managed to send them away. Finally having recuperated, Adrian sternly declared to himself, then he gave a cold laugh and rubbed his fingers together.

————

“Listen, guys,” a middle-aged man said loudly, clapping his hands at the entrance of an office bearing the editor’s sign, “I’m going to say this seriously one more ti, I’m extrely dissatisfied with the recent news. So if you can’t find so more valuable stories, I will wield a whip and send you out onto the streets to hunt them down yourselves!”

“Got it, Mr. Ruffalo.” The editors weren’t tense at all; they all said with smiles, and one even called out loudly, “We’d be very happy to go out if you’re willing to personally lead us.”

“You guys…” Ruffalo, looking sowhat portly, chuckled and cursed, shaking his head as he went back into his office.

He had barely settled into his chair when soone barged in: “Hey, Mark, I know you’re anxious about the recent news, but there’s no need to… threaten them, right? Even if it’s just a joke.”

“I’ve said this several tis, Allen, you have to knock before coming in, I am the entertainnt editor for the Los Angeles Tis,” Ruffalo complained.

One could tell it was Mark Ruffalo’s good friend Allen Luther, recognizable by his signature Little Mustache. When Ruffalo had snapped a photo of Adrian kissing Julia, he was with him. When Ruffalo took pictures of Adrian entering Julia’s boudoir, he was still his partner. As Ruffalo rose to fa with these photos and with the aid of luck and benefactors, strived for years, and finally beca the entertainnt editor for the Los Angeles Tis, Luther was still there with him.

“Alright, Mr. Editor,” Luther said with a smile, knocking on the door, “may I co in now?”

“Forget it, you’re already in,” Ruffalo responded with a roll of his eyes.

They were no longer the people they were several years ago. Ruffalo had long forsaken the rock style of wearing a backwards baseball cap and a thick gold chain around his neck, having replaced it with a suit and the polished look of a successful man. Luther had done the sa, except for his signature Little Mustache. But their friendship was still strong, and direct entries into the office like this were pretty much the norm. If it wasn’t for Ruffalo being married and Luther having a girlfriend, maybe so people would secretly think they were a couple.

“I just wanted them to work harder, you know, there hasn’t been any significant news lately,” Ruffalo sighed.

“Don’t worry, who knows, the news might co looking for you soon,” Luther said soothingly, and just as the words left his mouth, the telephone on the desk started to ring.

“See, isn’t that it?” Luther said imdiately, Ruffalo shook his head, pressed the speaker button, and then Amy’s voice from the reception ca through: “Mr. Ruffalo, there is a Mr. Thomas Hart here to see you.”

“Thomas Hart?” Ruffalo recalled for a mont, “Does he have an appointnt?”

“No, sir, but… he says he has sothing very important for you, he says… it’s an absolute bombshell of entertainnt news, you won’t regret it,” the receptionist said, her tone laced with helplessness, apparently having been bothered by him for quite a while.

Ruffalo was about to decline, as he had seen many of such self-promoters, mostly individuals who were self-important and liked to make a fuss. But glancing up at Luther sitting in front of him, he changed his mind, “Alright, then let him co up.”

Soon, the man who had been pestering the reception outside ca into Ruffalo’s office. He looked to be about twenty-six or twenty-seven, with brown hair, a cleanly-shaven face, and was fairly well-dressed, carrying a backpack, slightly nervous and uneasy. His eyes noticeably brightened upon seeing Ruffalo.

“Hello, Mr. Ruffalo, I’m Thomas Hart, you can call Thomas,” he extended his hand enthusiastically and eagerly.

“Hello, Mr. Hart, I hope you really do have so good news for ,” Ruffalo shook hands with him and then made a gesture for him to sit.

“Uh…” The other party hesitated, glancing at Luther, who hadn’t left.

“This is Allen, Allen Luther, my best friend and assistant. There’s nothing we can’t discuss in front of him,” Ruffalo introduced him right away.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Allen Luther, Mr. Ruffalo’s best partner, I know,” Hart imdiately stretched out his hand to Luther with so excitent.

“It seems you know us quite well,” Luther said quietly as he shook hands with him.

“Of course, who doesn’t know about when you guys took consecutive photos of Miracle Director Adrian Cowell and Julia Roberts dating, confirming that scandal once and for all?” Hart said with an excited tone.

“So, the news you’ve brought is about the Miracle Director?” Ruffalo imdiately seized on the crux of the matter.

But Hart didn’t answer directly; he just smiled mysteriously and then took a bulging docunt bag out of his backpack and handed it to Ruffalo: “I’ve said, this will be a super sensational news piece.”

Ruffalo took it, half-doubtful, and opened it to see. It seed to be a stack of photos, and he had only pulled out one when he hissed sharply, lifting his head to look at Hart with a look of astonishnt. Hart, anwhile, wore an uncontrollable look of pride. Coughing, Ruffalo continued to look through them. The more he looked, the more shocked he beca, and the curious Luther, who took the photo passed to him, also revealed the sa expression imdiately.

“Two Oscar-winning actresses, two Oscar-winning Best Supporting Actresses, two of the hottest idol singers, and the two hottest models from Victoria’s Secret, plus a renowned international director.” Thomas Hart’s eyes shone as he licked his lips, his body trembling slightly with excitent, “God, for them to gather together for this kind of party, that’s enough to cause a storm.”

However, Ruffalo didn’t take the bait and after carefully looking over all the pictures, he furrowed his brows in thought. After a while, he suddenly asked, “Does anyone else know?”

“Others? No, there’s no one else—I know I had to…”

“Take the pictures yourself, develop them yourself?”

“Yes, I set up a darkroom in the house I rented…”

“Do you have backups?”

“Of course…”

“You didn’t do sothing foolish like uploading them online, with a setup to send them out if not accessed for a while, right?”

“No, sir, I’ve been in this business before…”

Questions ca out in rapid succession, leaving Hart with no chance to think, but he answered them all honestly.

“Good,” Ruffalo let out a sigh of relief. “This isn’t just any big news; we must isolate any possibility of leakage first. The internet is unsafe, it’s safer in a bank deposit box—okay, now there’s one last question, the most critical one.”

He stared intently at Hart, “Are there clearer photos?”

“Clearer?” Hart first looked puzzled, but then his expression turned to disbelief, “Aren’t these clear enough?”

“Of course not,” Ruffalo raised his voice, “I know better than you who we are up against. Kid, you have no idea the trouble you’ve got yourself into or how powerful the people involved are. I know what you’re most concerned about, and I can give you the answer now. Yes, these photos are valuable, if they’re real, worth millions or even tens of millions!”

“If they’re real?” Hart furrowed his brows, seemingly catching sothing.

“That’s right, if they’re real,” Ruffalo stood up and leaned toward him, “I’ve said you have no idea. Them, or should I say him, the dia tycoon. His power is imnse! You should feel lucky that so far, the smartest thing you’ve done is co to and not those tabloids. They can’t afford the story, and they would just make things worse or even leak it!”

Having said all this in one breath made Hart’s face turn quite pale; the smug look was gone. Ruffalo then sat back down, “So I’m asking you if there are clearer photos. I’ve dealt with him enough tis; I’m very aware of how powerful he is. Without irrefutable evidence, it’d be very difficult to pin him down.”

With that, he picked up the pictures and shook them. “These look clear enough, but even I can think of a hundred reasons why they could be fakes, not to ntion Adrian Cowell!”

“But…” Hart seed disappointed, “I inadvertently stumbled onto that beach, a private beach, and the cara I had on wasn’t the best… Damn, if I had known I was going to see that, I definitely would’ve brought better tools and not just… Aren’t all these photos enough to put an end to denial?”

“You also said you trespassed on private property, so even if you get paid, you may not have anywhere to spend it.” Ruffalo shot down his hope with a single sentence.

“So… what should I do?” Hart breathed heavily, clearly not willing to give up.

“Go ho for now, think it over. See if you can develop so higher quality photos, even just a few. Then find a safe place for your backups as a precaution, whether that’s a bank deposit box or soplace random to hide them, and don’t tell anyone, including . Next, I’m going to talk to a few other newspaper editors. Without further solid evidence, the Los Angeles Tis alone isn’t enough to go up against Adrian. I need their help.” Ruffalo paused for a mont and then handed several different business cards to Hart.

“Here are business cards from the editors of the New York Tis and the Washington Post. If you feel it’s necessary, you can talk to them too. But rember, secrecy is key here. Got that?” Ruffalo instructed seriously. “Also, here’s one of mine, rember to keep in touch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ruffalo,” Hart stood up gratefully. “I’ll try to figure sothing out.”

“I look forward to your good news.” Ruffalo stood up calmly, watching him leave. When Luther closed the door and parted the blinds with his fingers to look out for a long while, Ruffalo then quickly opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulled out an old-style but still new-looking phone, and started dialing.

“Hello, Miss Trump, this is Mark Ruffalo,” despite knowing that she couldn’t see him, he still subconsciously revealed a sycophantic smile, “I have an A situation to report to Mr. Cowell.” (To be continued. If you like this work, welco to qidian to vote for recomndation tickets and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)