The show’s director received the news only after the person had arrived.
Originally sitting in the backstage control room enjoying instant noodles, as soon as he heard the person had arrived, he ran into the studio to greet them, not even having ti to change out of his slippers.
The director, middle-aged and not particular about maintenance or fitness, had a bald head from staying up late, shining like a polished egg.
Like a marinated egg.
This was his first ti eting Arnold Simmons in person, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. The bravado he usually had when scolding people was gone, and he stuttered over his words.
But he still tried very hard to be ingratiating to Arnold Simmons.
He said one flattering thing after another.
He started by complinting Arnold himself, but seeing his indifferent expression, always looking at the person on stage, he quickly changed tack.
Praising Hannah.
This ti he must be right, right?
The director convinced himself with this thought.
He lavished praise on Hannah without repeating a single adjective.
It left the staff mbers beside him dumbfounded.
Only when the director had talked himself hoarse did Arnold respond with a faint "Mhm."
With that one word, the director felt all his previous words were justified.
In the future, he could also brag to others that he had spoken with Arnold Simmons!
The director secretly thought to himself.
"When does the interview end?" Arnold spoke, his voice possessing the usual chill he had in front of others.
The director was caught off guard and was suddenly pulled back to the mont, "Soon, soon."
Not long after he spoke, the interview on the stage entered its concluding phase.
The main host tried to steady her breathing, feeling relieved as she said, "Thank you for your cooperation today."
Hannah gave her a smile in return, "You’re welco."
The host was dazzled by that smile, and her previous tension eased significantly.
This Hannah Winter seed easier to get along with than she had imagined, and even more attractive in person than on screen.
So do the real beauties not co across on cara?
By the ti the host ca to her senses, Hannah had already stood up and left, and Arnold, who had been standing offstage, had disappeared as well.
People around Hannah, knowing Arnold was there, courteously said goodbye to her before leaving.
At this ti, the sky had not yet completely darkened.
The rain that had been falling for several days had finally stopped, and the sunset was scorching. Layer upon layer pressed down as if to fill the entire sky.
Hannah was walking out the back door and only took a few steps before seeing Arnold waiting up ahead.
Today, he was dressed casually, with a dark coat that could not suppress the chill and indifference in his eyes, like a cold breeze from the depths of winter.
Arnold saw Hannah too and didn’t wait for her to co over; he walked towards her himself.
Hannah looked up at him, her voice carrying a touch of fatigue, "Why are you here?"
During her ti on stage, Hannah hadn’t looked down at the audience so she didn’t know that Arnold had been there all along.
"I ca to take you ho," Arnold said, holding her hand, a small, soft one, a few degrees warr than the palm of his hand. He subconsciously tightened his grasp and, looking down at her flushed cheeks, he placed his other hand on her, "Tired?"
Hearing his gentle words, Hannah couldn’t help but yawn, tears welling up and smudging the rouge at her eye corners.
"A little," her voice was soft and hoarse, even the gaze she gave him was bewildered and slow. Just like soone who had just woken up, lacking the vitality she had in front of the cara.
Arnold frowned, about to say sothing, but Hannah had already reached out and grasped his clothes.
Reviews
All reviews (0)