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Despite the close proximity of France and England, the weather in France proved to be a delightful contrast to the unpredictable and rainy climate of London. In Paris, even during the winter season, the sun graced the city with its gentle warmth. Strolling along the vibrant Champs-Élysées, Angela couldn't help but marvel at the pleasantness of the day.
After spending two days at the Fleurant Mansion, Angela's family continued their New Year's European trip and headed to Paris, their final destination. Accompanying them were the Watsons, a British couple who had made Paris their home.
Mr. Watson oversaw legal matters for the Albert family's properties in Paris, while Mrs. Watson had established her own successful law firm in the city. It was a homecoming of sorts for them, as they eagerly returned to their beloved Paris.
Regarding the little one named Emma, Angela couldn't help but feel a mixture of delight and perplexity. The Watson couple's profession and family dynamics seemingly confirmed Emma's identity.
However, the circumstances seemed too coincidental. Could it be possible that an unseen force was orchestrating Angela's life? The thought lingered in her mind, leaving her both intrigued and puzzled.
"Hey, dear Emma, you might become famous in the future," Angela said, sitting beside a round table at an outdoor café and playing with little Emma in the stroller.
Emma's mouth opened and closed, producing incomprehensible sounds. But her chubby face lit up with a smile, indicating her happiness. However, Angela couldn't tell if it was because Emma had bitten her ear again when she held her.
"But don't get too proud my little butterfly. I might just change your future," Angela joked, pretending to have a stern expression as she leaned in closer to Emma.
Emma, completely oblivious to Angela's words, laughed even harder and even attempted to bite Angela's nose, causing Angela to quickly evade. "Hey, little one, are you addicted to biting?" Angela playfully teased.
Feeling a bit frustrated, Angela let out a sigh and decided to stand up. She glanced at her parents who were engaged in a conversation with the Watsons nearby.
Walking a few steps onto the street, she stretched lazily, took a deep breath, and then rested her hands behind her back. Tilting her head slightly and squinting her eyes, she gazed at the distant Arc de Triomphe. The gentle breeze caressed her face, creating a pleasant sensation and giving a feeling that spring was approaching.
Despite this, Angela suddenly felt a pang of melancholy. She couldn't explain why, but she didn't want to interrupt the moment. Perhaps by following this sensation, she might discover something meaningful.
However, her wish was abruptly shattered. Just as she began to immerse herself in her thoughts, a voice unexpectedly emerged from beside her. "Hello, miss, are you interested in acting in a movie?"
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Angela was startled and abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Nervously, she looked toward the source of the voice. It was a friendly-looking white man in his thirties, with a pleasant Southern French accent. Sensing her unease, he quickly retrieved a business card from his coat pocket and extended it to her.
"I mean no harm. I'm a talent scout from Montage Studios," he explained with a reassuring smile. "We're currently in search of a lead actress around the age of 10 for an upcoming movie, and I believe you have the right image. Would you be interested in auditioning?"
Angela took the business card, noticing the name Roger Zoi printed on it. It seemed legitimate enough. However, she couldn't help but wonder what was Montage Studios?
"Sorry, I'm not interested," Angela shrugged and turned to leave. To be honest, she had no interest in getting involved in French movies unless she had the chance to work with Sophie Marceau.
"Wait, miss," the man called out hastily. "This movie is directed by Luc Besson..."
"What did you say?!" Angela spun around, her eyes widening in astonishment. "Luc Besson?!"
Roger was taken aback but nodded, "Yes, this movie is directed by Luc Besson..."
"Earlier, you mentioned Montage Studios," the little girl interrupted abruptly.
"Montage Studios is just another name for Luc Besson's studio. I thought it was well-known," Roger said, sounding perplexed.
Angela took a deep breath and let out a bitter smile. A 10-year-old lead actress... Then she looked at him and asked, "Is the movie Mr. Besson is about to make called《Leon: The Professional》?"
"Yes, but how did you know?!" Roger exclaimed in surprise.
Angela remained silent, slapping her forehead in frustration. "Damn it, Jean Reno really did give him my script..."
But before she could finish her sentence, the little girl, realizing she had said too much, quickly covered her mouth and cast a fearful glance at the talent scout.
She hurriedly ran into the open-air café, leaving Roger the bewildered talent scout standing in place, wondering what had just happened.
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...
Around 5 p.m., Roger Zoi returned to his apartment. At this time, his live-in girlfriend, Miranda, had just woken up and was getting ready to go to work at the nightclub. Seeing his downcast appearance, she couldn't help but ask, "Hey, what's wrong, dear?"
"Oh, it's nothing, Miranda. I'm fine," Roger replied, shaking his head, as he sat on the couch.
"Come on, you look like someone who's unsatisfied," Miranda teased, leaning in and gently biting his ear.
"Alright, Miranda," Roger smiled and kissed her back, then sighed somewhat dejectedly. "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a talent scout. So far, I haven't been able to sign any actors, and maybe I'll be fired soon."
"I've told you before, dear, if you introduced me, I'd definitely become famous," Miranda jokingly said, trying to lift his spirits.
"Well, this time the director's new movie needs a girl between the ages of 10 and 14 for the lead role. Are you interested?" Roger joked back, feeling slightly better.
"Are you calling me immature?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.
"No, no, no, I'm saying you're adorable, just as adorable as a 14-year-old girl," Roger quickly raised his hands in defense.
Miranda snorted and stood up, grabbing her coat and heading towards the door. "I'll settle the score with you when I come back."
"Sure, I'll be waiting," Roger called after her, then burst into laughter, feeling much better now.
He loosened his tie, poured himself a drink from the cabinet, and settled back onto the couch. It was regrettable that the girl he had encountered earlier perfectly fit the requirements for the new movie.
The sense of maturity she emanated while gazing at the Arc de Triomphe was incredibly captivating. If only he could persuade her to join. However, to his surprise, she already knew the movie's title. It was rather peculiar.
Sadly, she refused to divulge any further details, leaving him puzzled by her cryptic final remarks. Who did Jean Reno hand the script to? Hold on, what did she mean by saying, "Jean Reno really did give him my script"?
Roger suddenly sat up. He hadn't misheard it. The young girl had indeed uttered those two words. The memory of it remained vivid in his mind.
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Eric, one of the executives at the studio, had casually mentioned that Mr. Reno had delivered the script for the upcoming film, and intriguingly, the original author of the script remained unaware of its source.
But could it be possible that the little girl was the screenwriter? Roger had the urge to burst into laughter, yet he restrained himself.
If this outrageous notion were to be true... he couldn't comprehend why such an absurd idea had entered his mind. Nevertheless, she did utter those exact words, "Jean Reno really did give him my script"!
Roger hesitated, repeatedly standing up and sitting back down, his mind in a whirlwind. Eventually, he gathered his resolve and reached for the phone. "I must be losing my mind," he pondered silently while dialing the number.
After a few moments, the call connected, and a woman's voice resonated on the other end. Roger spoke with anticipation, "This is Roger Zoi. Is Eric available? I need to speak with him urgently."
Soon enough, Eric's voice echoed through the receiver, "Roger, what's going on? We're almost done for the day."
"Well, Eric, I wanted to inquire, was it Jean Reno who originally brought in the script for《Leon: The Professional》?"
"Yes, that's correct. What's the issue?"
"So, the original scriptwriter still remains unaware of its source, correct?"
"Come on, Roger, out with it already."
"Alright, alright," Roger hesitated momentarily. "I believe I may have discovered... the original scriptwriter."
He swiftly recounted today's events, eager to convey the details as quickly as possible. Clutching the receiver tightly, he braced himself for potential mockery and sarcasm from the other end. However, Eric's response took him by surprise.
"Wait a few minutes, stay right where you are!" came Eric's urgent instruction, followed by a moment of silence.
After what felt like an eternity of pounding heartbeats, Eric's voice broke the silence once more. "Roger, come to the studio immediately, right now! Do you understand? We're waiting for you."
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With that, the call abruptly ended, and Roger wasted no time. He hurried downstairs, jumped into his car, and raced towards the studio. An overwhelming sense of elation consumed him, yet upon arriving at the studio's conference hall, he was taken aback.
He had anticipated a gathering of only a few executives to discuss the situation, but to his astonishment, prominent figures such as Luc Besson and Jean Reno were also present, alongside the executives.
"Please don't hold back, Mr. Zoi. We're just pressed for time," Besson reassured with a smile, motioning for Roger to take a seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Besson," Roger acknowledged with a nod and settled into his chair.
"I've thoroughly examined your resume. You've only been in this field for a month, yet you've proven to be diligent and capable. However, this particular line of work might not be the best fit for you. I suggest exploring a role in planning instead. But before we delve into that, we have a few inquiries to make," Besson mentioned, flipping through the documents in his hand.
"No problem, sir," Roger replied, taking a deep breath in an attempt to remain composed.
"Does she speak French?" Besson inquired.
"Yes, she does, but you wouldn't detect any discernible accent. However, she seems to be unaware of Montage Studios, so perhaps she's not French."
Besson exchanged glances with those around him, prompting one of the executives to place a colored pencil sketch on the table. "Does she bear any resemblance to the girl depicted in this drawing?"
The drawing was exquisitely crafted, depicting a girl seated on a windowsill, embracing her knees with a touch of melancholy. However, Roger shook his head in response. "No, that's not it. She possesses long, golden curls, not short, straight brown hair. And her eyes... they're green. Once you've laid eyes on them, it's impossible to forget."
As Roger pondered for a moment, a thought suddenly struck him. "Come to think of it, I believe I've seen her somewhere before."
In that moment, Jean Reno leaned in and whispered something to Besson, prompting Besson to summon an assistant. A brief conversation ensued, after which the assistant swiftly departed the meeting room. Minutes ticked by as Besson exchanged a few more words with Reno, occasionally casting glances in Roger's direction.
Finally, another assistant hurriedly departed and this time they waited for over an hour before the assistant returned, clutching a videotape.
"Apologies, sir, but《The Parent Trap》is not currently available on video in Paris. However, I managed to obtain a pirated copy," the assistant apologized.
Besson offered little response and proceeded to play the tape in the conference room. Despite the less-than-ideal image quality, the characters remained discernible.
As the girl made her appearance on the screen, before anyone could interject, Roger stood up and exclaimed, "It's her!"
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Despite the close proximity of France and England, the weather in France proved to be a delightful contrast to the unpredictable and rainy climate of London. In Paris, even during the winter season, the sun graced the city with its gentle warmth. Strolling along the vibrant Champs-Élysées, Angela couldn't help but marvel at the pleasantness of the day.
After spending two days at the Fleurant Mansion, Angela's family continued their New Year's European trip and headed to Paris, their final destination. Accompanying them were the Watsons, a British couple who had made Paris their home.
Mr. Watson oversaw legal matters for the Albert family's properties in Paris, while Mrs. Watson had established her own successful law firm in the city. It was a homecoming of sorts for them, as they eagerly returned to their beloved Paris.
Regarding the little one named Emma, Angela couldn't help but feel a mixture of delight and perplexity. The Watson couple's profession and family dynamics seemingly confirmed Emma's identity.
However, the circumstances seemed too coincidental. Could it be possible that an unseen force was orchestrating Angela's life? The thought lingered in her mind, leaving her both intrigued and puzzled.
"Hey, dear Emma, you might become famous in the future," Angela said, sitting beside a round table at an outdoor café and playing with little Emma in the stroller.
Emma's mouth opened and closed, producing incomprehensible sounds. But her chubby face lit up with a smile, indicating her happiness. However, Angela couldn't tell if it was because Emma had bitten her ear again when she held her.
"But don't get too proud my little butterfly. I might just change your future," Angela joked, pretending to have a stern expression as she leaned in closer to Emma.
Emma, completely oblivious to Angela's words, laughed even harder and even attempted to bite Angela's nose, causing Angela to quickly evade. "Hey, little one, are you addicted to biting?" Angela playfully teased.
Feeling a bit frustrated, Angela let out a sigh and decided to stand up. She glanced at her parents who were engaged in a conversation with the Watsons nearby.
Walking a few steps onto the street, she stretched lazily, took a deep breath, and then rested her hands behind her back. Tilting her head slightly and squinting her eyes, she gazed at the distant Arc de Triomphe. The gentle breeze caressed her face, creating a pleasant sensation and giving a feeling that spring was approaching.
Despite this, Angela suddenly felt a pang of melancholy. She couldn't explain why, but she didn't want to interrupt the moment. Perhaps by following this sensation, she might discover something meaningful.
However, her wish was abruptly shattered. Just as she began to immerse herself in her thoughts, a voice unexpectedly emerged from beside her. "Hello, miss, are you interested in acting in a movie?"
Sponsored Content
Angela was startled and abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Nervously, she looked toward the source of the voice. It was a friendly-looking white man in his thirties, with a pleasant Southern French accent. Sensing her unease, he quickly retrieved a business card from his coat pocket and extended it to her.
"I mean no harm. I'm a talent scout from Montage Studios," he explained with a reassuring smile. "We're currently in search of a lead actress around the age of 10 for an upcoming movie, and I believe you have the right image. Would you be interested in auditioning?"
Angela took the business card, noticing the name Roger Zoi printed on it. It seemed legitimate enough. However, she couldn't help but wonder what was Montage Studios?
"Sorry, I'm not interested," Angela shrugged and turned to leave. To be honest, she had no interest in getting involved in French movies unless she had the chance to work with Sophie Marceau.
"Wait, miss," the man called out hastily. "This movie is directed by Luc Besson..."
"What did you say?!" Angela spun around, her eyes widening in astonishment. "Luc Besson?!"
Roger was taken aback but nodded, "Yes, this movie is directed by Luc Besson..."
"Earlier, you mentioned Montage Studios," the little girl interrupted abruptly.
"Montage Studios is just another name for Luc Besson's studio. I thought it was well-known," Roger said, sounding perplexed.
Angela took a deep breath and let out a bitter smile. A 10-year-old lead actress... Then she looked at him and asked, "Is the movie Mr. Besson is about to make called《Leon: The Professional》?"
"Yes, but how did you know?!" Roger exclaimed in surprise.
Angela remained silent, slapping her forehead in frustration. "Damn it, Jean Reno really did give him my script..."
But before she could finish her sentence, the little girl, realizing she had said too much, quickly covered her mouth and cast a fearful glance at the talent scout.
She hurriedly ran into the open-air café, leaving Roger the bewildered talent scout standing in place, wondering what had just happened.
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...
Around 5 p.m., Roger Zoi returned to his apartment. At this time, his live-in girlfriend, Miranda, had just woken up and was getting ready to go to work at the nightclub. Seeing his downcast appearance, she couldn't help but ask, "Hey, what's wrong, dear?"
"Oh, it's nothing, Miranda. I'm fine," Roger replied, shaking his head, as he sat on the couch.
"Come on, you look like someone who's unsatisfied," Miranda teased, leaning in and gently biting his ear.
"Alright, Miranda," Roger smiled and kissed her back, then sighed somewhat dejectedly. "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a talent scout. So far, I haven't been able to sign any actors, and maybe I'll be fired soon."
"I've told you before, dear, if you introduced me, I'd definitely become famous," Miranda jokingly said, trying to lift his spirits.
"Well, this time the director's new movie needs a girl between the ages of 10 and 14 for the lead role. Are you interested?" Roger joked back, feeling slightly better.
"Are you calling me immature?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.
"No, no, no, I'm saying you're adorable, just as adorable as a 14-year-old girl," Roger quickly raised his hands in defense.
Miranda snorted and stood up, grabbing her coat and heading towards the door. "I'll settle the score with you when I come back."
"Sure, I'll be waiting," Roger called after her, then burst into laughter, feeling much better now.
He loosened his tie, poured himself a drink from the cabinet, and settled back onto the couch. It was regrettable that the girl he had encountered earlier perfectly fit the requirements for the new movie.
The sense of maturity she emanated while gazing at the Arc de Triomphe was incredibly captivating. If only he could persuade her to join. However, to his surprise, she already knew the movie's title. It was rather peculiar.
Sadly, she refused to divulge any further details, leaving him puzzled by her cryptic final remarks. Who did Jean Reno hand the script to? Hold on, what did she mean by saying, "Jean Reno really did give him my script"?
Roger suddenly sat up. He hadn't misheard it. The young girl had indeed uttered those two words. The memory of it remained vivid in his mind.
Sponsored Content
Eric, one of the executives at the studio, had casually mentioned that Mr. Reno had delivered the script for the upcoming film, and intriguingly, the original author of the script remained unaware of its source.
But could it be possible that the little girl was the screenwriter? Roger had the urge to burst into laughter, yet he restrained himself.
If this outrageous notion were to be true... he couldn't comprehend why such an absurd idea had entered his mind. Nevertheless, she did utter those exact words, "Jean Reno really did give him my script"!
Roger hesitated, repeatedly standing up and sitting back down, his mind in a whirlwind. Eventually, he gathered his resolve and reached for the phone. "I must be losing my mind," he pondered silently while dialing the number.
After a few moments, the call connected, and a woman's voice resonated on the other end. Roger spoke with anticipation, "This is Roger Zoi. Is Eric available? I need to speak with him urgently."
Soon enough, Eric's voice echoed through the receiver, "Roger, what's going on? We're almost done for the day."
"Well, Eric, I wanted to inquire, was it Jean Reno who originally brought in the script for《Leon: The Professional》?"
"Yes, that's correct. What's the issue?"
"So, the original scriptwriter still remains unaware of its source, correct?"
"Come on, Roger, out with it already."
"Alright, alright," Roger hesitated momentarily. "I believe I may have discovered... the original scriptwriter."
He swiftly recounted today's events, eager to convey the details as quickly as possible. Clutching the receiver tightly, he braced himself for potential mockery and sarcasm from the other end. However, Eric's response took him by surprise.
"Wait a few minutes, stay right where you are!" came Eric's urgent instruction, followed by a moment of silence.
After what felt like an eternity of pounding heartbeats, Eric's voice broke the silence once more. "Roger, come to the studio immediately, right now! Do you understand? We're waiting for you."
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With that, the call abruptly ended, and Roger wasted no time. He hurried downstairs, jumped into his car, and raced towards the studio. An overwhelming sense of elation consumed him, yet upon arriving at the studio's conference hall, he was taken aback.
He had anticipated a gathering of only a few executives to discuss the situation, but to his astonishment, prominent figures such as Luc Besson and Jean Reno were also present, alongside the executives.
"Please don't hold back, Mr. Zoi. We're just pressed for time," Besson reassured with a smile, motioning for Roger to take a seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Besson," Roger acknowledged with a nod and settled into his chair.
"I've thoroughly examined your resume. You've only been in this field for a month, yet you've proven to be diligent and capable. However, this particular line of work might not be the best fit for you. I suggest exploring a role in planning instead. But before we delve into that, we have a few inquiries to make," Besson mentioned, flipping through the documents in his hand.
"No problem, sir," Roger replied, taking a deep breath in an attempt to remain composed.
"Does she speak French?" Besson inquired.
"Yes, she does, but you wouldn't detect any discernible accent. However, she seems to be unaware of Montage Studios, so perhaps she's not French."
Besson exchanged glances with those around him, prompting one of the executives to place a colored pencil sketch on the table. "Does she bear any resemblance to the girl depicted in this drawing?"
The drawing was exquisitely crafted, depicting a girl seated on a windowsill, embracing her knees with a touch of melancholy. However, Roger shook his head in response. "No, that's not it. She possesses long, golden curls, not short, straight brown hair. And her eyes... they're green. Once you've laid eyes on them, it's impossible to forget."
As Roger pondered for a moment, a thought suddenly struck him. "Come to think of it, I believe I've seen her somewhere before."
In that moment, Jean Reno leaned in and whispered something to Besson, prompting Besson to summon an assistant. A brief conversation ensued, after which the assistant swiftly departed the meeting room. Minutes ticked by as Besson exchanged a few more words with Reno, occasionally casting glances in Roger's direction.
Finally, another assistant hurriedly departed and this time they waited for over an hour before the assistant returned, clutching a videotape.
"Apologies, sir, but《The Parent Trap》is not currently available on video in Paris. However, I managed to obtain a pirated copy," the assistant apologized.
Besson offered little response and proceeded to play the tape in the conference room. Despite the less-than-ideal image quality, the characters remained discernible.
As the girl made her appearance on the screen, before anyone could interject, Roger stood up and exclaimed, "It's her!"
