In this vanity fair where light and shadow intertwine, loyalty is sometimes almost a luxury, especially for a relationship like theirs.
She had long been mentally prepared, but at the moment of witnessing it with her own eyes, the stinging sensation still existed; however, this sting was quickly wrapped up by her powerful rationality and the psychological defense line she had long since constructed.
That pinch she gave him was more of a warning to declare her sovereignty, a reminder of "I know, you'd better show some restraint."
Landon grimaced in pain, his thoughts spinning rapidly as he tried to organize his words.
Explain? Deny? Both seemed pale and weak.
The intimacy on set was a fact, and that kind of chemistry wasn't built in a single day.
Looking at his hesitant expression, Tracy suddenly felt a bit bored, yet also somewhat relieved.
She buried her face back into the crook of his neck, sniffing the familiar scent mixed with sweat and hotel shower gel.
"Filming is filming," her voice came out muffled, but her fingers wrapped around him even tighter,
"Don't bring that state into the recording studio, and definitely don't bring it to other places you shouldn't. Your time and energy are currently more expensive than diamonds, Mr. Landon Williams."
This sentence was both a professional reminder from an agent and a possessive warning from a lover.
The next morning, Tracy, carrying the satisfaction of being nourished, got into the car headed for the Universal Music Group headquarters. She had transformed back into that omnipotent agent.
Landon's romantic affairs? Faced with a mountain of work, she had no energy to focus on them.
Moreover, Tracy knew Landon's temperament well; she would give him enough space.
She had more important matters to handle now:
"Yeah!" needed to maintain its popularity to push for a longer consecutive number-one record;
Of the six high-profile singles, four still needed production, and with different producers involved, this required more coordination on her part;
At the same time, she needed to communicate strategies regularly with Jimmy Iovine and Doug Morris;
Then there were the subsequent brand invitations, screening for in-depth media interviews... she temporarily had no extra space for the minutiae of private emotional entanglements.
Meanwhile, Landon returned to the "A Beautiful Mind" crew accompanied by his assistant, Zoe.
Zoe looked in high spirits today; the faint dark circles under her eyes that had been common lately were gone, and her skin was glowing.
Last night, she was finally not disturbed by the "nightly radio drama" next door and got a solid, long-overdue beauty sleep.
However, an inexplicable sense of loss welled up in her heart.
This rare clarity instead made her feel as if something was missing, as if after getting used to a certain background noise, absolute silence felt empty.
This groundless low mood translated into a change in her attitude toward Landon.
On the way to the set, her tone while reporting the schedule was half a beat faster than usual, and her reaction to one of Landon's casual suggestions carried a subconscious, slight sting.
"Do you think the recording studio is a convenience store? Dr. Dre's studio time was personally coordinated by Mr. Jimmy Iovine; you want to reschedule?"
She raised her eyebrows, her tone devoid of much respect.
Listening to her, Landon didn't feel offended; instead, a barely perceptible smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
The sharp-minded Zoe, who occasionally showed a bit of an edge, seemed to have returned, no longer the listless little girl who was always secretly yawning during this period.
He thought this was good—vivid, real, and full of life.
He even somewhat enjoyed this interaction with a hint of confrontation; it gave him a bit of relief from the pressure of Tracy's all-seeing scrutiny from the night before.
As soon as he arrived on set, Landon immediately felt a subtle change in the atmosphere.
The news of "Yeah!" topping the Billboard charts consecutively had clearly spread through the crew.
The staff's smiles were warmer when greeting him, the production assistants handing out coffee would add a "congrats on your song," and even the usually stern production manager made an exception to pat him on the shoulder.
The most obvious change was Director Ron Howard. Previously, while Howard was certainly kind and patient, his posture of guiding and training a newcomer was very clear.
But today, while discussing a shot, Howard would more naturally ask for his opinion:
"Landon, do you think Nash's look toward Charles at this moment is more anger or more fear?"
This was a way of conversing that leaned toward equality, treating the actor as a creative partner.
Landon knew this wasn't just a bonus from the song's success, but also the professional respect he had earned through his full devotion on set for several days—especially after yesterday's high-quality performance in the major scene of the intense argument between Charles and Nash.
From top to bottom in the crew, no one would look down on him in the slightest because of his age anymore.
However, it wasn't all sunshine and light on set.
Jennifer Connelly's state was markedly different today.
She still naturally approached Landon to chat while waiting for scenes as usual, and leaned on his arm to watch playbacks together.
She was still professional and focused, but the gaze she cast toward Landon often carried a quiet, highly penetrating scrutiny.
Jennifer's occasional glance made Landon feel an inexplicable sense of guilt, as if he had done something to wrong her, leaving him somewhat flustered all day.
Jennifer's heart was far less calm than her surface appearance.
Tracy's appearance yesterday was like a pebble thrown into the ambiguous and pleasant pond between her and Landon.
That woman was too striking—not only did her looks and figure not lose to her own, but she also carried a sharp aura of someone who strategizes in the vanity fair, which she herself lacked.
Seeing the intimacy and chemistry between Tracy and Landon as they left side-by-side, which exceeded a normal working relationship, Jennifer understood almost instantly that they were by no means just agent and artist.
This made her feel very uncomfortable.
She couldn't help but recall the beginning between her and Landon.
So sudden, yet so... natural.
It was just because of a bet, a joke.
As a result, this boy, who was so much younger than her, actually kissed her without any warning.
That kiss carried a taste of youth that was impossible to refuse.
And she, a thirty-year-old woman who had been in an emotional vacuum for quite some time and was in her prime yet inevitably felt a hint of loneliness and fatigue, saw her defenses crumble faster than imagined when facing such an offensive of masculine charm.
Everything that followed was like being pulled into a vortex—excitement, pleasure, indulgence with a hint of guilt, and a long-lost feeling of being strongly needed and ignited.
She knew very well that she didn't truly expect to keep a young man like Landon, who was destined to attract countless eyes and was highly ambitious, tied to her side.
He was just like the Charles Herman he perfectly portrayed—brilliant, charismatic, but essentially an unsettled soul, a "prodigal son."
She accepted this rationally.
But emotionally, the physical and mental satisfaction brought by that extreme intimacy, and the wonderful feeling of touching youthful vitality and passion again when with him, made her crave it like an addiction.
She just wanted to prolong this relationship as much as possible and occupy more of his time and attention outside of work.