In 1925, in St. George's Park, Los Angeles, every year in late spring and early summer, the poplar trees inside are green. The benches under the shade often sit couples, with children playing on the grass, and older children playing with flying saucers on it. This is the favorite leisure place for people in the North City of Los Angeles. When you go out, you will find Bolary Street. The outside is full of crowded people and shops, the jingling trams and the occasional cars appearing on the street, indicating that this is a completely different metropolis from those country towns.

I sat under a statue of Venus, staring at the clouds in the sky in a daze. The weather was very gentle, and even the wind blew on my face was extremely gentle. But such a good weather could not arouse my interest at all. I just sat there, like a beggar who had lost his strength, and my heart was depressed.

"Andre, why did you come here? Berg and I have been looking for you for a long time, and I thought you were lost?!" A boy in his 20s walked towards me with a smile. His name was Gans, my classmate, 1.8 meters tall and weighed only 140 kilograms, so thin that everyone who saw him said he was malnourished. The fat man named Berg followed behind was my neighbor and best friend, and his father was the farmer of Burbank, and he was rich and powerful.

I forgot to introduce who I am. My name is Zhang Yuan. I am a master's student at the Beijing Film Academy. I studied world film history and film theory. At the end of the year, I followed a crew to Los Angeles for an interview and attended a movie premiere in Hollywood (I am their screenwriter and associate director). As a result, I woke up in a hotel opposite the China Grand Theater and found myself lying in a student dormitory. In addition to me, there were also fat and thin men (Guins and Berg). They called me Andre. Then, after two days, I realized that I had come to Los Angeles in 1925 by mistake.

Based on the memories left in this body, I know that I am twenty years old and the youngest son of a middle-aged fat man named Hall Corleon in Burbank area who runs a cinema.

You may not know Burbank, but you are well-known in an emerging area next to it: Hollywood! That's right, Hollywood in 1925. However, Hollywood was not as famous as the 21st century, and everyone was still watching silent movies. Among the eight major companies, the 20th Century Fox and Thunderbolthua were not yet born. The famous MGM, which was just established last year. Paramount Film Company, established in 1912, is the oldest and most financially funded one. In addition, the Columbia Film Company, established in 1920, the Universal Film Company, established in 1912, and the United American Film Company, established in 1919, has its own factory sites in Hollywood.

My dad's cinema is a small cinema affiliated to Vitagraf Production Company. Just this year, this film production company was acquired by Warner Bros. Film Company, which was just established the year before yesterday, so our cinema has correspondingly become a member of this famous Hollywood film giant.

Gans was sweating, and Berg behind him was even more panting. It could be seen that they had been looking for me for a long time. When I thought of going back to the grimy school, I became more and more unhappy. The school called Weitai Film Academy was established by Edison (the guy who invented the light bulb) who invented the "movie mirror" and made a fortune in 1900. Its main task was to output a series of staff members from drama to deputy director to Hollywood, and to change the bad name, it was "dead supporting actor".

What we learn every day is some film production process that seems to me to be a bit old. I learnt film directors and screenwriters (I finally didn't deviate from my old career). Berg learns photography, while Gans learns business. In Gans' words, we can definitely open a film company to fuck him hard and then go to Wall Street to make a fuss. Gans said this when he first came in. We graduated gloriously in July this year. Now I think about it and my scalp is numb. Life in the future is completely unknown to us, full of possibilities. Moreover, the economy has been in a bad state in recent years, and the unemployment rate has soared. Finding a job is not easy at all. Berg worked at United American for a while last month and wanted to stay there, but he became a coolie for their boss for nothing. The fat man was so angry that he muttered to go back to farm with his father.

Among the three, although I don’t have a wealthy and powerful father like Berg, the conditions are average. At worst, I can go back to play movies. Gans is in the worst situation. His father is a car repairman. He had long claimed that once Gans graduated, he would no longer support him. Gans would do it himself. So when he was about to graduate, he became more anxious and ran to the Hollywood factory shed. But every time he got disgraced.

"What's the matter with me? Is it going to class in the afternoon?" I stood up lazily and patted the blade of grass on my butt.

Gans smiled slanted on the corner of his mouth: "Class? What a nonsense class! Who has time to go to class? The old man has pneumonia and probably has been idle for a while."

The old man he mentioned was a teacher to us, a film worker who became a monk halfway through the journey. He worked as a projectionist in his early years, opened a cinema, and filmed several movies that no one had ever heard of. People in their 50s looked like tuberculosis all day long.

I glanced at them listlessly and smacked my lips: "Then what are you looking for me?"

Gans looked at Berg and whispered.

Berg smiled and said, "My cousin got married tomorrow, and he is on our farm. We have not been home for almost two weeks. Is it fun to go back this time?"

"Okay." I followed them out of the park, and the three of them went back to school to pack up their things.

The school is not far from St. George's Park, and you will arrive through seven or eight streets. The concierge saw the three of us walking in with a slanted stride and shook our heads. The nickname "The Three Musketeers of Vita" is in this palm-sized place. It is definitely a ghost to hear it and the monkey will turn somersaults.

"You three can't cause any trouble later. Today, a big shot in the academy will come." The concierge walked out in two steps and pulled the three of us aside.

Gans squinted his eyes and shouted, "Big man?! What big man?"

"Adolf; Mr. Chuck." The concierge had a look of admiration.

"Who?! Why haven't I heard it?" Berg frowned and made a humming sound from his mouth.

"No! You have been in Hollywood for a while, so why don't you even know this person?" Gans made a contempt.

"Do you know?! Let's hear it." Berg looked dissatisfied.

Gans was so shocked by his question that he had to wink at me for help.

"The head of Paramount, the pride of Hollywood, claims to have no movies he dared not make, and no actors he couldn't hire." Why am I also a master's degree in film studies, and I know a little bit about such a famous person.

"Oh, yes, yes, did you hear it? It's this person." Gans looked at Berg and said to me: "Boss, why don't we see what this guy looks like here? Are you as handsome as you?"

I looked at him angrily and sat down on the chair next to me. The founder of Paramount Company, of course, wanted to take a look.

After waiting for more than ten minutes, I saw a small car slowly driving from the depths of the yard. In addition to the driver, there were two people inside, one was a young and beautiful blonde beauty, and the other was a shriveled bald old man about fifties, holding a cigar in his mouth and polite.

"Damn! I thought the head of the Dignified Paramount Company should be so powerful. It turns out that it is such a bald old man. What a pity, it's such a beautiful girl!" Gans beat his chest and stamped his feet, as if someone had stolen his wallet.

Bergli and I ignored him, stood up and walked towards the dormitory.

Early the next morning, I was pulled out of the bed by Gans when I was dawn. The three of them hurriedly packed up their things and left school to take a four-wheeled carriage out of the city.

At that time, in Los Angeles, there were still large areas of wilderness outside the city, and there were no layers of tall buildings. There were knee-length loess everywhere, and the carriages were running on the road, dust was flying.

Gans and Berg were in a good mood, and they were playing and talking in the carriage, while I was nervous.

If you want to meet the father I have never seen before, and the two brothers who heard Berg say are gangsters, you will be overwhelmed by thinking about it.

"Andre, are you feeling uncomfortable? Why do you think you are depressed?" Berg touched my forehead, very concerned.

"It's nothing, maybe the car is a little bumpy today." I moved his hand away and quickly changed the topic: "Fatty, is your cousin beautiful?"

Berg pouted: "Beautiful?! Look at the pigs on our farm, she looks like!"

Gans laughed loudly, and even the person who was driving the car laughed in front of him and laughed backwards when he heard this.

Burbank was northwest of Los Angeles, and after nearly an hour of carriage, he saw a small town of medium size appear in front of him. There were not many cars, quiet and calm, and it even gave birth to a bit of pastoral scenery.

The carriage stopped in the center of the town, Gans and Berg were rushing to salute, while I stood aside and looked at the so-called hometown carefully.

The town is not small in size and the streets are wide and clean. As it is almost noon, I can't see a few people. There are four or five-story buildings on both sides. The shops are half-closing the doors, and groups of pigeons are playing and flying in the square. Many cats and dogs are wandering around the cart. If Berg hadn't told me that the population here is 20,000, I wouldn't have seen it as a large transit station near Hollywood.

The supplies needed by Hollywood are constantly transported here, and at the same time, those movie copies are first screened here and then shipped to all parts of the country.

"Berg, Andre!" Just as I was in a daze, a fat man with a hat came out across the street. He was about fifty years old, with a long beard and a big belly, and waved to Berg and me.
Chapter completed!