Tough decision

The private doctor left.

He had conducted a simple diagnosis on Renly and gained a detailed understanding of the situation over the past period. He also asked Nathan some detailed questions, but ultimately, he was helpless. Based solely on the diagnosis, there was nothing seriously wrong with Renly's body; at most, it was a mild cold. However, Renly's extreme reaction was truly baffling.

In the end, the doctor suggested to Andy that he should take Renly to the hospital for a comprehensive examination before making any conclusions.

After seeing off the private doctor, Andy appeared contemplative. A bold idea flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it as too incredible. He shook his head and then walked back to the bedroom.

The doctor had advised that Renly should consume some liquid food to replenish energy, while avoiding excessive stimulation to the stomach to prevent intense vomiting. So, Nathan went to the kitchen to prepare food, leaving only Renly in the room.

Andy approached the room's doorway and immediately saw Renly sitting on the bed. Renly gazed out of the window absentmindedly, his gaze unfocused on the sparse light. The lonely figure exuded an indescribable sense of desolation, weariness and vulnerability between his brows akin to a light drizzle in March, faintly smearing the atmosphere and causing a tinge of heartache.

Andy involuntarily slowed his movements. The idea he had earlier surfaced in his mind again. He cautiously called out, "Adam?"

Instantly, Renly reflexively turned his head, his eyes revealing an inquisitive look. Fleeting sadness shimmered through, as if emanating from the depths of his soul. This caused Andy's heart, which had been racing, to slowly descend.

His suspicion had turned out to be true.

When Renly filmed "Buried", Andy hadn't signed with him yet, so he wasn't familiar with the filming process. Later, Andy heard about Renly lying in a coffin during filming and almost losing control. He had only heard it in passing and hadn't truly comprehended the impact of that incident. He even regarded it as a promotional tool.

After all, hearing something was not the same as experiencing it.

A moment ago, Andy had been speculating whether these sudden changes were due to getting too deep into character. Could it be a sudden personality shift? Or perhaps an inexplicable health problem? Or uncontrollable anger? If that were the case, it would make sense.

But then Andy rejected his own thoughts. He was a manager, not an actor. The notion of getting too deep into character, or losing control due to a role, were terms he had read in textbooks. They had no real resonance. What he believed in was talent, dedication, and focus. He couldn't fathom the experience of being submerged and unable to extricate oneself.

Yet now, Andy found himself believing it.

As Andy gazed at the figure before him, he opened his mouth, but for the first time, he found his mind utterly blank. He didn't know how to react or what to say. Countless words swirled in his mind, but in the end, he weakly uttered, "Are you okay?"

A slight quirk appeared at the corner of Renly's lips as he sketched a smile. "Sorry, I acted like a jerk just now. I must have scared you all, right?"

This was Renly, yet not quite Renly.

Andy knew this was absurd. If someone else had said these words to him, he wouldn't even bother responding, dismissing them as nonsense. But at this moment, this was Andy's sentiment. The person before his eyes resembled Renly, yet wasn't Renly. Andy knew, he must be Adam.

"I don't need to speak like that. You're all just trying to show concern," Renly gently closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath, his words regaining a touch of gentleness.

Though his spine, palms, and soles of his feet remained icy cold, and his body still felt heavy, the chaotic turmoil within his mind had finally eased. It seemed that along with the earth-shattering vomiting just now, all the irritability had dissipated. Of course, it was also possible that the outburst of shouting had discharged all the pent-up emotions, leading to this calmness.

The subsequent explanation seemed more plausible.

"You don't need to worry about me," Andy smiled. "Believe me, I've encountered crazier situations. At least you're not Dwayne Johnson. Otherwise, one punch from him would have me bedridden for a week."

Renly chuckled lightly, his body still bearing a significant fatigue, yet the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

After hesitating for a moment, Andy stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. He spoke earnestly, "Renly, I'm your agent. In the absence of a manager, I'm the person you can trust the most. So, you don't need to worry that I'll mess this up, because I'm the last person who wants any mishap to occur. For my own sake, I certainly don't want my previous investments to go down the drain."

A faint hint of mockery seeped through, conveyed in Andy's signature style. Renly lightly closed his lower jaw, revealing a shallow smile without retort.

"So, do you need help?" Andy wasn't skilled at dealing with situations like this, but he was doing his best.

Generally, such matters were left to managers or therapists. In Hollywood, out of ten actors, nine have their own therapists. The one without is usually deemed insane.

The pressure of living under the spotlight was unimaginable, as if every person in every corner of the world had the right and authority to comment on an actor's life. This omnipresent pressure was a byproduct of fame and fortune, inescapable but not everyone can handle it well.

But Renly's career had just begun, and he couldn't afford the steep fees of psychological counseling. Moreover, this was the first time Renly had faced such a problem, so Andy had to take the initiative.

Renly chuckled twice, the somber smile rolling within his chest, slightly relaxing him. Seeing the Andy before him, who appeared inexperienced and awkward, almost helpless, was like witnessing a novice confronted with a crying baby, at a loss. It was truly amusing.

"You can't help," Renly's response was simple yet precise, leaving Andy somewhat helpless. He then saw the smile on Renly's face and couldn't help but shake his head, laughing helplessly. "Rest assured, I'll be fine."

Renly knew his condition. This was a situation he had anticipated before taking on "50/50". Though the loss of control was slightly beyond the acceptable boundary, it was still his objective.

Through Chu Jiashu's experiences and conversations with Will, he truly felt Adam's pain. It wasn't merely empathy; it was a first-hand experience, immersed in it all, where every sensation became vividly real. When the boundary between reality and illusion vanished completely, the character and himself merged seamlessly.

He was Renly, yet he was also Adam.

This state was remarkably unique. He knew he was shooting a film, memorizing lines, rehearsing scenes with his co-stars, changing angles, and perhaps making mistakes and retakes. However, simultaneously, his acting wasn't just acting. Everything came naturally, as if every experience was his own.

This was something he hadn't felt during "Buried".

Driven by Method acting, he maintained a substantial level of control, existing in the chaotic realm between reality and illusion. The loss of control in reality was traded for control in the illusion, turning the act into an experience of pure enjoyment. In his performance, he was immersed; in real life, he suffered, his body separated from the realm of acting, while his mind and soul remained shackled.

In fact, Renly was savoring this process, hoping to extend this state of acting for a while longer, to gradually explore and experience it. To gather more information for the next Method acting opportunity.

Indeed, there were no shortcuts in acting. It required repeated trials, explorations, and challenges to accumulate enough experience, waiting for the day when quantitative changes sparked a qualitative transformation. Renly was grateful that Andy took over "50/50".

This was about acting, and even if Andy wanted to help, he couldn't. Moreover, Renly didn't need Andy's assistance.

"Are you sure? Your condition right now looks truly awful." Andy sensed that Renly had relaxed a bit, allowing him to be more straightforward.

Renly shrugged but remained silent.

"About the Oscars, were you serious earlier?" Andy knew it wasn't the best timing, but if he missed today, he wasn't sure when it would be more appropriate, especially since the awards ceremony was only a few days away. So, he decided to push forward, broaching the topic again.

Once again, Renly shrugged and displayed a faint smile. "If you want me to attend, then I can give it a try."

Renly was speaking the truth. He was currently fully immersed in exploring his acting, and he didn't hold many expectations for the Oscars. Even if he missed this year's ceremony, there was still next year, and the year after that. But missing the opportunity to perform "50/50" might mean waiting indefinitely for the next chance.

Andy observed Renly's expression carefully, making his decision within. While he found it incredible upon reflection, he had indeed made the choice. Yet, despite the seeming irrationality, Andy's rationality assured him that it was the right decision. Even if it was beyond imagination, even if it was challenging, even if it was abrupt, it didn't affect the correctness of this decision.

After taking a deep breath, Andy calmed himself, then reorganized his thoughts and considerations. He confirmed that he wasn't making an impulsive decision, let his gaze settle on Renly once again, exhaled a long breath, as if summoning his courage, and nodded, saying, "That's settled then. This year, we won't attend the Oscars."

Even upon reflection, it felt absurd, and Andy couldn't help but smile at the thought of his decision. With another nod, he affirmed, "Yes, we won't attend."

With a week left until the Oscars, Renly made a last-minute decision—to be absent.