Although Los Angeles has often been rated as one of the most livable cities, the early summer days of May can still be quite hot.
In front of the TCL Chinese Theatre, the long red carpet was not only lined with excited movie fans but also packed with entertainment media reporters, their cameras and recording equipment set up and ready.
Orlando Bloom and Anne Hathaway had already walked the red carpet, each causing a stir.
Logan wiped the sweat from his forehead and continued snapping photos of Anne Hathaway while casually chatting with his fellow reporters.
"Anne Hathaway's career is really taking off. Ever since she latched onto Gilbert, she's landed role after role. I heard Legally Blonde is also coming out this year."
"Yeah!" his colleague nodded. "She beat Reese Witherspoon for the role, but honestly, she didn't even have to try.
"One is a high-profile elven princess, the other doesn't have any major representative works or well-known roles. Of course, the studio knew who to pick."
"I'd say Gilbert had a lot to do with it," Logan analyzed seriously. "I heard Anne Hathaway has even moved into Melon Manor."
"What, are you planning to sue Gilbert?" his colleague joked. "Anne Hathaway is over eighteen. If you wanted to file a complaint, you're a bit late."
Logan shook his head in exasperation. "I'm not that bored. Gilbert isn't Michael Jackson—these things don't even faze him.
"But from what I've observed, Gilbert doesn't seem interested in girls who are too young."
As a seasoned Hollywood journalist, Logan had a solid understanding of the preferences of certain big shots in the industry. In fact, it wasn't just Hollywood—many high-ranking figures in Washington shared the same tendencies.
They even used such things as a way to gauge who was truly one of them.
It was obvious that Gilbert wasn't on the same page as those people, even though, given his status and position, he should have been naturally aligned with them.
Logan had once conducted a deep investigation into Gilbert because he found his rise in Hollywood to be almost too incredible—there were simply too many secrets surrounding him.
But after thorough digging, Logan discovered that, at least when it came to filmmaking, there wasn't much mystery. Gilbert simply possessed an extraordinary imagination and the ability to turn that imagination into reality.
With the help of powerful allies, he got his first shot at directing, scored a massive success, and climbed step by step to his current position.
However, Logan did uncover two shocking secrets about Gilbert.
The first was that Gilbert was anti-squid—or to be more precise, he was against those three letters from the eastern Mediterranean.
Logan found it unbelievable—how could a squid be anti-squid?
Of course, this secret was largely overshadowed by Gilbert's public persona.
As the poster boy for liberal squid, Gilbert had become the most powerful weapon in the liberals' battle against the radicals over the past few years.
Gilbert had openly stated in interviews that movies should be about movies—that they shouldn't be burdened with unrelated agendas.
But in reality, at his level of power and influence, he couldn't completely avoid such entanglements.
He was a figurehead, a banner, a slogan.
People were bound to use his name to push their own narratives—this was unavoidable. After all, Hollywood and politics were deeply intertwined. Trying to completely separate the two was impossible.
As for the second secret… it was even more absurd.
Logan discovered that Gilbert was practically a Chinese man in a white man's skin.
That was the conclusion he came to after years of investigation, and he had even planned to write an exposé on it.
But his editor-in-chief shut it down.
Why? Because the biggest shareholder of their newspaper… was Gilbert.
The editor-in-chief handed Logan a hefty bonus and sent him on a vacation to China. After enjoying his trip, Logan understood—this was the carrot. He had better behave.
If he didn't behave, Logan knew exactly what would come next—the stick.
So, he destroyed all the materials he had gathered over the years, keeping only a few as souvenirs of his investigation. From that point on, he no longer obsessed over Gilbert's secrets.
Every big shot had their secrets.
You could dig all you wanted—as long as you didn't end up suicided.
"Where's Gilbert? Why hasn't he arrived yet?" a fellow reporter asked.
"Big shots always make their entrance last," Logan smirked. "Look—there he is!" He pointed toward the far end of the red carpet.
Sure enough, Gilbert stepped out of the car, escorting a stunningly dressed Scarlett Johansson. The two walked onto the red carpet together, immediately setting off a frenzy.
As always, Gilbert let Scarlett soak up the spotlight, while he engaged with the fans—signing autographs, shaking hands, and interacting with them.
Many fans' hands trembled with excitement, as if they were pilgrims coming to worship. Their reverence for Gilbert felt almost religious—comparable to their reverence for God himself.
And in a way, they weren't wrong.
After all, Gilbert had earned the nickname Hollywood's Son of God, the younger brother of Jesus Showquan.
For things that defied logic—like how someone so young could achieve such extraordinary success—Eastern and Western thinking diverged.
Easterners came up with all sorts of explanations: divine talent, ancestral blessings, good karma from a past life.
But in the West?
If something couldn't be explained—well, God did it.
God was omnipotent. There was nothing He couldn't do.
Looking around the premiere event, one reporter found something odd.
"Logan, doesn't it feel like there are fewer fans here this year?"
Logan gave him a sideways glance, as if he were an amateur. "You really don't know?"
"Know what?"
"There are 2,200 early screenings happening across the country at the same time as the premiere. Most of the fans went to see those instead—that's why the crowd here is a bit smaller."
"Ah… that makes sense."
At the Saint Carlo Theater in New York, Noel hadn't gone to Los Angeles for the premiere, nor had he managed to get an invite for the main event.
Instead, he chose to attend an early screening. He was already a devoted fan of The Lord of the Rings, both as a reader and a moviegoer.
A massive poster hung outside the Saint Carlo Theater—Aragorn raising his sword in a battle cry, King Théoden, Gandalf the White, and others each having their own promotional displays.
Just looking at these posters made Noel's blood boil with excitement. Unable to contain himself, he quickened his pace and stepped into the theater.
Even with early screenings, the overwhelming anticipation had left many fans without tickets. A crowd had gathered outside the theater in protest.
It was reminiscent of last year when The Lord of the Rings book fans had protested.
But this time, it wasn't book fans protesting the movie—it was movie fans protesting the theaters for not having enough tickets.
The theater manager, drenched in sweat, kept explaining that there would be a midnight screening later that night and a full release starting tomorrow.
But faced with the wave of frustrated fans, his words did little to calm the crowd. In the end, he had to retreat to his office under the protection of security guards.
Noel, however, was lucky—he had managed to snag a ticket for the early screening. He didn't have to wait; he could watch it right away.
At the Caster Theater on Santa Monica's commercial street in Los Angeles, Hutchinson had also managed to get a ticket for the early screening. There, he ran into an old acquaintance—Russell.
"Russell? What are you doing here?" Hutchinson was surprised. Russell had always been vocal in his protests.
Russell, however, showed no sign of awkwardness. "Why wouldn't I be here?"
"Wait… you're here to watch the movie? You're actually here to see The Two Towers?" Hutchinson asked.
"Of course," Russell admitted. "I became a fan of The Lord of the Rings last year. If the movie won you over, why wouldn't it win me over too?"
Hutchinson was shocked at Russell's change of heart.
Last year, he had caught Russell protesting outside the theater, and back then, Russell had refused to admit he liked the movie.
Now, not only was he openly acknowledging it, but he was doing so without the slightest hesitation.
Still, that was fine by Hutchinson. As long as someone liked The Lord of the Rings, they were friends. The two had worked together for a long time and had a good personal relationship.
Behind them, a heavyset man wearing a baseball cap was listening to their conversation with a thoughtful expression.
That man was none other than the somewhat famous director, Michael Bay—nicknamed "Explosion Bay," the successor to "Explosion G."
However, while Explosion G had successfully transitioned to a wide range of genres, Michael Bay's only real selling point remained explosions. That was the difference between the two.
Pearl Harbor had already shifted its release date to avoid competing with The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, but Michael Bay wasn't happy about it.
So, he had snuck into the theater to see the movie for himself.
This was already his third time watching one of Gilbert's films. The first two times, reporters had caught him and mistaken him for a passionate fan, even interviewing him.
To avoid that happening again, he had carefully disguised himself this time.
Following these two die-hard book and movie fans into the theater, Michael Bay was immediately struck by the atmosphere.
It was only an early screening, yet the audience's enthusiasm was overwhelming. The theater was completely packed—down to the very last seat.
And outside, desperate fans were begging the staff for standing tickets, willing to watch the entire film on their feet if necessary.
Michael Bay was stunned.
He knew the film's runtime. While it wasn't as long as the previous one, it still ran two hours and forty-five minutes.
Subtracting the opening and closing credits, the actual content lasted at least two hours and forty minutes.
Watching a movie standing up for that long?
Michael Bay asked himself—could I be that devoted?
The answer was no.
This just went to show how much The Fellowship of the Ring had left an impression on fans—enough for them to be this excited for the sequel.
And then… things got even wilder.
In front of him, a stunningly curvy woman was proudly boasting to her friend:
"I had a few three-way sessions with Ike and Viggy, and that's how I got these tickets. You should be grateful to me."
Her friend groaned with jealousy. "Damn it! You slept with them and didn't invite me? I've always wanted a night with Viggy!"
"???"
Michael Bay, eavesdropping, nearly choked.
He wanted to turn to them and say, Ladies, I'm not bad myself. How about giving me a shot?
But considering his identity, and the somewhat awkward timing, he ultimately held his tongue.
With tension and anticipation filling the air, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers finally began its grand and mysterious opening…
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