Closing the taxi door, Renly lifted his head to look at the ancient yet simple building in front of him, but it appeared entirely unfamiliar.
This was the new apartment Andy had arranged for him before, and he had moved in after the Toronto Film Festival concluded. However, since then, he had first gone to St. Louis, then to Los Angeles and London for "Like Crazy", followed by "Fast 5". In almost four months, he had been constantly on the move. He had lived here for less than a week.
Renly couldn't even remember the address of the apartment. He had to ask Andy for it to avoid the embarrassment of not finding his own home. Thinking back, Renly could vaguely recall that the interior of the apartment was simple and elegant, but the specific details were now just a blurry mess of light and shadow. It felt less familiar than the vacation rentals on Oahu Island.
"Which floor was it again?"
Following the fragmented memories, Renly's steps finally halted at the entrance of the third floor. The reddish-brown carved iron door seemed somewhat familiar, yet it left him perplexed. Wasn't it supposed to be a heavy, dark brown wooden door?
There was a deep gray carpet at the entrance, with an evergreen potted plant placed beside it. These were excellent spots for hiding keys. However, Renly never left his keys there. He raised his right hand and felt along the lintel above the door, and indeed, he found an antique bronze key. Every time he went out, he put the key in the same place—Knightsbridge in London was like this, his previous shared house was like this, and his new place was no different.
Using the key to unlock the door, he pushed the heavy iron door to the side. The familiar yet strange interior scene came into view. Then, Renly's footsteps unconsciously paused. His mind was filled with question marks: was this his home?
The surrounding decor did resemble what he remembered. The exposed iron pipes above the living room on the right, he remembered them clearly. The wardrobe directly in front, dividing the bedroom and bathroom, maintaining their privacy. The kitchen dominated by black and navy blue... These details stirred memories in his mind. It was indeed how he had set it up when he moved in.
However, the entire place was neat and quiet. Not only was there no accumulation of dust, but everything was meticulously organized.
The problem lay here: after moving in, all the cardboard boxes remained untouched in their original positions. He hadn't unpacked anything. He had planned to do it before going to St. Louis, but it hadn't happened. All the items were still in their packed state, placed in the open space of the hall.
When he was returning, he had thought that the house must have collected dust and that the things in the boxes were probably stuffy. Thinking about having to tidy up his luggage after coming home, he could feel a dull headache forming.
Now, the boxes had vanished without a trace, replaced by a clean and tidy home.
On the massive bookshelf to the right of the bedroom, various books were piled high. His guitar and keyboard were stored in boxes, leaning against the bookshelf...
On the black cabinet behind the sofa, layers of his vinyl records were neatly arranged. The central layer was empty, displaying various trinkets—bullet casings collected during the filming of "The Pacific", animal teeth gifted by locals during his time surfing the Gold Coast, ceramic figurines of Peking opera collected by an antique shop owner in London...
On the coffee table, there was a stack of wooden coasters, and beside them were several boxes of matchsticks from different bars and motels. His laptop was placed squarely in the center...
Directly ahead, Renly pulled open the wardrobe that served as a partition. The front row was for hanging clothes, and all the shirts and suits were neatly hung up. The back row had diamond-shaped storage compartments. T-shirts were rolled into cylindrical towel shapes and placed in the compartments. Casual jackets and jeans were neatly folded and placed, creating an organized yet artful arrangement...
Renly was certain that this wasn't how he had organized it.
There were quite a few things he wasn't good at, and organizing and tidying up was one of them. He had Ding Yanan's help in his previous life, and now he had a maid assisting him. He had tried to do it himself before, but the result was truly pitiful. Others had to redo the work, which only increased the workload. So, he had given up.
Then, what was going on here? Andy? It made sense if it was for regular cleaning, but unpacking luggage and tidying up the room were unlikely. Andy would have helped with the moving process, providing a comprehensive service from start to finish. There was no need to wait until later.
Sitting down on the sofa, Renly took out his phone and dialed a number.
The phone was answered after only two rings, and a voice with a faint smile came from the other end. "I have a bad feeling. You didn't call when you were in London last time. Why did you decide to call me today?"
"It's the same for you. Why didn't you call me when you were in New York?" Renly let his muscles relax and adjusted into a comfortable sitting position. He liked this sofa because it could double as a bed, not constantly reminding him to maintain aristocratic etiquette.
"How do you know I'm in New York?"
"Because I'm sitting in my own home right now." Renly's answer left the other person stunned for a moment. Then, a series of hurried footsteps sounded from the doorway. Immediately after, the figure of Matthew Dunlop appeared at the door. He hung up the phone and looked at Renly lounging on the sofa. A smile naturally formed on his face. "Elizabeth and George would probably be angry enough to shatter that set of blue-and-white porcelain plates if they saw you like this."
"This is New York, not London." Renly raised an eyebrow in a nonchalant manner.
Matthew placed his briefcase on the kitchen table and hung his coat on the rack by the door. He then hung up Renly's coat, which had been thrown over the back of the sofa chair, before sitting down on the adjacent single sofa. "How did you know I was in New York?" he asked again for the second time.
"No one else arranges shirts from light to dark, or arranges books and vinyl records in alphabetical order. Except for you." Renly scoffed with a face full of disdain.
Matthew was an OCD sufferer, and he had a strong compulsion for cleanliness. Everything had to be arranged in a certain order, or he would get agitated. His room now exhibited distinctive Matthew "characteristics". They had known each other for almost a lifetime—how could he not recognize it?
"How did you know my home address? I don't even remember it myself." That was the topic Renly was genuinely curious about. He looked up at Matthew. "Did you call Andy? But how did you convince him? He wouldn't just casually reveal my personal information."
As Renly had said, Andy was the only one who knew the address here. The villagers in Village Vanguard were also unaware of it. If it wasn't Andy, then it meant that Arthur had found his address through investigation. Although Renly wasn't worried, this wasn't good news.
Matthew elegantly crossed his right leg over his left knee, and a smile involuntarily appeared on his face. For a rare moment, he managed to stump Renly. "Your script. When we were in Notting Hill, I asked you what that line in the script was. You told me."
Renly thought seriously for a moment. It should be a line from the script of "Like Crazy". When he left London, the negotiation for "Fast 5" hadn't been settled yet. He had thought he would go straight home after finishing shooting in Los Angeles. So, he had asked Andy for the new home address at that time.
"Don't worry, Arthur didn't inquire about you from me." There was no need for extra explanation. Matthew understood Renly's concerns. "But you should know, if they want to find out, you don't have many advantages."
"Buried" had been making waves during the awards season, and it had received considerable attention from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts. Many British media outlets believed that this work had a good chance of standing out. Along with this attention, Renly's face frequently appeared in various newspapers and magazines.
Renly pursed his lips. "Rest assured, they won't be looking at the entertainment section, not even in The Times." This prompted Matthew to chuckle lightly. "So, are you here for business this time or just a temporary stay?"
"I think it's time to leave London." Matthew concisely stated. "Do you remember Clive Reader from the Law School? The one from Bristol."
The British royal family had a simple way of identifying strangers: surname plus hometown, often leading back to their origins.
Clive Reader, from a commoner background, but with outstanding social skills and impressive eloquence. During his university years, he had flourished, successfully infiltrating the circle of aristocrats' children. Even though they were only drinking buddies, they would be on completely different paths after graduation. Still, this achievement was quite remarkable.
Now, it seemed that capable people were indeed highly sought after everywhere. Even after entering society, he had still carved out his own place.
"He's opened a law firm in New York, and there are two other familiar faces, Charles from the Thomas family is also one of the senior partners. They extended an invitation to me, so I came over." With just a few words, Matthew explained the whole situation. Renly could easily fill in the gaps in causality.
"A smart fellow, isn't he? Is he interested in your abilities or your connections?" Renly accurately grasped the core of the matter.
Matthew simply curved his mouth in a slight smile and nonchalantly counter-questioned, "Is there a difference?"
Renly chuckled helplessly, nodded in agreement, "Welcome to New York. To show my welcome, I think I'll let you have this sofa, allowing you to continue staying in my apartment."
"Thanks." Matthew rolled his eyes, sarcastically said, then pointed upwards, "My apartment is above yours, but still, I appreciate your generous offer to give up the sofa."
Renly spread his hands and said earnestly, "Can't help it. I'm naturally generous and enjoy sharing. This should be the only aspect that Elizabeth likes about me."
"The Snail Maiden" or "The Snail Girl" is a young maiden in a folksong who is turned into a snail by a fairy as a punishment for her pride and arrogance. She then lives as a snail, wandering the world and longing for her human form. The story serves as a cautionary tale about the consequences of vanity and arrogance. The term can also be used metaphorically to describe someone who was once proud and arrogant but has now been humbled or brought down to a more humble state. It's a reminder of the importance of humility and the potential consequences of excessive pride.