Global Film Emperor

Chapter 427 Heading to Italy

Time flies, and it's already late July.

The chirping of summer insects, a continuous chorus, is usually pleasant to the ear, but to a person in a irritable mood, it becomes exceptionally noisy. Scratching the mosquito bites on their arms only makes them itch more, and the more they scratch, the more they itch, until finally, unable to bear it any longer, they get up angrily, turn on the light, grab an electric mosquito swatter, and begin a battle of wits between humans and insects in the room.

After a while, panting, he lay back on the bed, covered his feet with the blanket, glanced at the time, and saw that it was almost dawn. Annoyed, he lay down on his side, pressed down on the itchy bump on his arm, and muttered to himself.

"What am I even doing this for..."

The feeling of unease hadn't subsided, and his sleepiness began to vanish. He sat on the edge of the bed, lit a cigarette, and silently watched as the sun rose behind the distant hills. He shuffled his feet around without looking at the ground, put on his slippers, got up, quietly pushed open the door, and went into the bathroom. Leaning against the tiles next to the toilet, the coolness made him feel comfortable. He closed his eyes, hummed softly, and pulled up his shorts, the sound of running water immediately filling the air.

Snoring... The sound of an old-fashioned toilet is much louder than that of a modern one, and it is even clearer in the quiet space. He threw the cigarette butt into the toilet and watched the water flush it away. He was about to go back to bed for another nap when he pushed open the bathroom door. At the same time, the front door also opened, and the father and son looked at each other in silence.

The old man was holding breakfast in his hand, and it looked like he had only bought enough for himself. When Mickey saw this, he scoffed, shook his head without saying a word, and turned to push open the bedroom door.

"why are you laughing."

"What? Can't people even laugh?"

Ignoring the old man's angry glare, he went back to bed, thinking he would sleep until late morning and then leave as soon as the old man was not in the living room. His main task now was to avoid seeing that face, so as not to get angry and have trouble sleeping.

He slammed the door shut with a little force, and the old man stood in the doorway, his face turning pale. He threw his breakfast on the table, put his hands on his hips in anger, glanced at Mickey's bedroom door, and angrily scolded him for being ungrateful.

……

Why did he come back? Mickey didn't know either. Subconsciously, a voice would remind him every now and then that it was time to go home.

So he came back, and just like in the old script, he had to have a big fight with his father every time he saw him, and then leave again in the middle of the day with his luggage. The cycle repeated itself, as if the relationship between the two was destined from the moment Mickey was born, with a warm current occasionally flowing beneath the ice.

He didn't sleep well after his nap. After staying in bed for three hours, he started tidying his clothes, checking his passport, tying his hair into a single ponytail, and pushing the door open a crack to peek into the living room. No one was there.

I tiptoed, but the suitcase didn't roll on the floor. Just as I walked past the TV, I heard a sound.

"If you're going to leave, then leave quickly. Are you dawdling because you're afraid I'll see you?"

"Grass!"

Turning around, he saw the old man lying on the sofa, his body hidden by the back of the sofa. He wasn't watching TV or reading; he was just lying there with his eyes closed. Mickey hadn't seen anyone, and his nerves were already on edge. This soft call really startled him.

"Are you sick in the head? You're lying on the sofa without making a sound. Is it fun to scare people like this?"

"This is my home. I can lie down however I want, wherever I want. If you want to get out, then get out."

It's difficult for both father and son to adjust their mindset and tone, which leads to arguments every time they meet. Even though Mickey knows what he's trying to do by lying there, he still can't control his temper.

He glared at the old man and nodded angrily. He stopped carrying his suitcase and slammed it hard on the ground. It felt like he was stepping on ten pounds of cement. He stomped his feet as he walked, but after only a few steps, he stopped stomping so hard. His feet were numb, and if he stomped any more, he would be crippled.

"What are you doing! You think you're going to rebel?! Who do you think you're messing with?! Come back here!"

"They've fucking rebelled! What are they going to do about it!"

It's easy for one side to start a fight, let alone when both sides are ready to fight. It's like a spark igniting a fire, leaving no room for reconciliation.

Without much further arguing, he slammed the door shut again. This time, the sound was much louder than the bedroom door. The iron gate echoed throughout the entire hallway. Some people who heard the argument came out to see what was going on, but when they saw that it was the old landlord arguing with his son, the famous director Mickey, they quickly peeked out and sheepishly shrank back.

Outside the apartment building, Lu Ze and Fatini were eating hamburgers in the car when Mickey stormed out. Lu Ze put down his hamburger, leaned out the window, and whistled, attracting Mickey's attention. "Are there any more hamburgers? Can I have one?"

"No, I'll just buy two. You'll have food to eat when you get home."

Mickey reached out and snatched the half-eaten hamburger from Lu Ze in the driver's seat. Without any hesitation, he took a big bite. Lu Ze tried to grab it back, but Mickey blocked him with his foot.

"When have I ever come home to find a meal? This burger is delicious, spicy too, let's buy a few more."

"The company bought it. Why don't you drive more than an hour to buy it?"

The feeling of being half full is the most frustrating thing when you're not quite full. Lu Ze, annoyed, put on his sunglasses, slammed on the gas, turned the steering wheel all the way, and made a sharp turn. He saw Mickey Mouse eating a hamburger through his nostrils and then revealed a triumphant smile.

The three were heading to Italy to attend the Venice Film Festival in early August. As the host, Fatini would accompany them, and for him, getting an invitation to the Venice Film Festival was a piece of cake.

The first stop on the trio's Italian trip was Rome, because the headquarters of Gambiano Films was located there. Fatini would arrange for the two of them to visit the nearly century-old film company, which would also allow Lu Ze, who had never been to Italy before, to see the buildings and landscapes he had only seen in books.

The car sped to the airport, but instead of entering the terminal, it went directly to the tarmac, where Fatini's private jet was parked. The car keys were handed to a staff member, who would arrange for Lu Ze's car to be parked in the VIP parking lot.

The captain and flight attendants stood in a row on the ground, waiting patiently. When the main characters arrived, their smiles were not professional, but rather warm and sincere. They took the luggage from the passengers and waved for the main characters to board the plane first.

After shaking hands with the two captains, Fatini led the way into the cabin, where the luxurious style was made no attempt to conceal itself and was laid bare before everyone.

The interior hard furnishings are handcrafted from whole black walnut trees, ensuring that the texture of the boards used in a single space throughout the entire aircraft is consistent.

The upholstery is made of top-quality, flawless calfskin, and the headrests, which offer excellent support, feature the Gambiano family crest. Although the seats are soft, they still provide strong support for the lower back, ensuring that passengers will not experience back or leg pain even after long flights. Furthermore, Lu Ze noticed that only the small label under the seat could prove that the leather seat was a custom-made Gucci item.

Compared to the luxurious interior, the flight itself wasn't particularly outstanding. I still experienced tinnitus during ascent and descent, and turbulence was still present when encountering strong air currents. While the comfort was decent, it didn't truly surpass commercial airlines by a significant margin.

The three chatted about the script and the camera work all the way until the plane landed safely. Even the flight attendants might find this kind of trip a little boring. Even if they didn't show it on the surface, it wouldn't be bad to have them chat about something fun, would it?

Amidst the farewells of the flight crew, the group disembarked. The welcoming party was not large; only a stretched Phantom and two Mercedes S-Class cars were waiting. Two bodyguards brought by Fatini escorted the three into the car. As they got in, the driver had already rolled up the soundproof windows. Fatini took a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator, opened it, and poured a glass for the two of them.

"Welcome to Italy! I'll show you around for the next few days. Is there anywhere you'd like to go, or anything you'd like to do?"

"Let's look at the Colosseum and the Pantheon. I'm quite interested in those things. What about you, Mickey?"

"I've already seen everything, there's no point in going again. Let's eat something good, I can't think of anything I want to do."

The two answers left Fatini speechless. Did they really need him to take them around to see these things? They might as well just join a local tour and go with the local guide.

"I mean, are you interested in things that aren't easy to get your hands on?"

Upon hearing this, Mickey was no longer sleepy. He grinned mischievously, moved closer to Fatini, put his arm around his shoulder, and whispered a question.

"You mean...?"

Fatini didn't say anything, but made a fist with her right hand, then raised her thumb and forefinger and waved it in front of the two of them.

"That's what I'm talking about."

"..."

(End of this chapter)