I'm so charming, there are always men who love me

Chapter 2

Daniel Day Lewis, who had been hung up on, was speechless; he had always known that his ex-girlfriend had a fiery temper and a strong personality.

She was young and incredibly talented in acting, and had gained so much attention just by participating in stage productions that there were always hordes of frenzied spectators at the famous French Theater, clamoring to be the first to catch a glimpse of her moving presence.

It was predicted that, given the right opportunity, she would make a name for herself and become one of France's most famous actresses.

But she was never the type of actress who could dance, and her tough, willful personality was a source of frustration for many in the French film industry, who were likely to lose their tempers and stop rehearsals when unprofessional behavior occurred on the theater stage.

But even so, the Théâtre de France still regarded her as an exceptional acting talent, and the country's most prestigious national theater company even offered Ajani an unprecedented twenty-year contract.

But she politely declined to sign the contract on the grounds that it would limit her social freedom.

How many had thought that the Drama Theatre of France would give her up because of her refusal, but in this world there always seems to be an infinite indulgence for genius, and the head of the troupe, instead of treating her coldly for that reason, had even gone so far as to state in public that--

"There can only be one Adjani in a century."

Thinking back to all this Oscar-winning actor Lewis' lips were dry, although Ajani was not the submissive type when she was in the heat of the moment, but he had always been invincible in the women's circle, and the other man's cold attitude now was very difficult for him to accept for a moment.

And far away in Paris, Margaret was looking up details of the Valois dynasty on the Internet with her newly acquired twentieth century memories.

Inside her small, cozy bachelor's apartment, she looks vaguely uncertain--the

In the second half of the sixteenth century, Princess Marguerite, the king's sister, becomes the victim of a political marriage to Henry, King of Navarre, the leader of the Protestants.

It is recorded that throughout the ceremony, the bride and groom looked straight ahead, never once looking at each other.

When the cardinal asked Margaret if she would marry Henry, she did not answer, so Charles IX pressed her head and forced her to nod her head in agreement.

But while the crowds were celebrating the wedding, a m******e against Protestants, orchestrated by the Dowager Empress Catharine, kicked off, and blood flowed throughout France, triggering history's famous tragedy, the Night of St. Bartholomew.

After their marriage, Margaret and Henry were not affectionate, each having public lovers, and Margaret had a bad reputation as a result.

After years of war, Queen Dowager Catherine lost her power and died in infamy on January 5, 1589, and Margaret's older brothers all died.

After all the men of the House of Valois had died, Marguerite's husband, Henri, became the closest male relative to the Valois royal family by virtue of his marriage to her, and accidentally succeeded to the throne of France as Henri IV, the founding king of the Bourbon dynasty.

Marguerite went from being a French princess to being the Queen of France, known as Queen Marguerite.

However, after Henry IV succeeded to the throne of France, she lost the honor of Queen of France due to her divorce from Princess Marguerite of the former dynasty due to lack of heirs.

Many historians believe that Marguerite's having such a mother was the root of her life's misfortune.

Either because the reputation of the Dowager Empress Catharine was too bad, or because, as early as the beginning of the Bourbon dynasty, Marguerite, "the outcast", was destined to bear the title of "the most debauched woman in France".

As the years passed, her beauty faded and fell into poverty, after debtors came to her door, she sold all her jewels and took a gold Eucharistic casket to practice in Notre Dame, where she finally died of illness.

Marguerite died in Paris on May 27, 1615, and was buried in the church of Valois. Thousands of people who loved her mourned her loss, as well as the demise of the Valois dynasty.

Her ex-husband, Henri IV, who was stabbed to death in 1610 at the age of 57, also died.

The nineteen-year-old brunette looked at the words on the display--

The Valois and Medici families, prominent for centuries, had become extinct in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and all of the relatives, the bores, that she had known so well, had long since perished into the stream of history, even most of them without a good death.

There was not even a single person in the world who was connected to her blood.

Margaret had guessed that it was the man in the black cloak who, on the eve of the wedding, had informed her mother of all that was about to happen.

And her mother had made some kind of deal to send Marguerite, not yet vilified as the most debauched woman in France, four centuries later.

Or rather, it's not even the world she once lived in, and Marguerite's brand-new New Age memories tell her that it should probably be called a parallel world--

She had arrived here in one thousand five hundred and seventy-two, but the Margaret of this world had died in one thousand six hundred and fifteen.

How comical that she was not only separated from all those she knew by an ocean of time, but even traversed the texture of time and space.

She couldn't even choose to end it all; her mother, the sinister and ruthless Queen Dowager Catherine, had humbly submitted to others just to get her out of the infamous sixteenth century.

"Loyalists turning their backs on God?" Margaret whispered, some sort of speculation coming to mind.

The man in the pitch-black cloak was obviously some supernatural being who hated God, and Margaret was determined to find him and know what this deal was.

Even if he's the devil, the root of the evil.

She didn't know what kind of incarnation the fallen supernatural being was in the human world and when it would appear.

Until then, she must live in the twentieth century, without being denigrated and holding dignity.

Margaret tried to rid herself of those overpowering thoughts; she was only a nineteen-year-old rookie actress now, and unless the sinister fellow appeared before her eyes of his own accord, it was unlikely that she would ever find him unless she became a dark wizard.

She forced herself to think about the matters at hand first, such as improving her economy, raising her social class, and having the ability to gain more information.

At this point, orphanage born of unknown parents, want to do this is not simple, there is no family assets and connections to inherit, not good at the twentieth century financial and economic means of profit, want to go into politics is even more of a nightmare.

In addition to beauty, the only thing she is good at is acting talent.

That was all she could grasp at the moment, wasn't it?

Marguerite looked to the two letters in her hand, which came from that famous director, François Truffaut--

"You are an extraordinary actress, and I have never been so eager to fix a face on film."

"Your face alone can tell a moving story, your gaze alone can create a dramatic atmosphere, and you could even act in a movie without a storyline, that would be a documentary about you that would rival any good and extraordinary feature film."

There is no denying that these words are very sincere and moving.

Margaret, who also had the bank card with her full salary in her hand, turned up the corners of her mouth in an arc; at least she was now a young girl who could make her own fortune.

Compared to the position of women in the sixteenth century, when they could only acquire money and land through gifts and transfers from their husbands, this new century, which allowed women to rely on themselves and earn every brick and tile, allowed women to be truly free.

She unfolded the script titled The Story of Adele Hugo:

In the nineteenth century, Adele Hugo, daughter of French literary giant Victor Hugo, in a desperate attempt to escape the immense pressures of her family name and in her single-minded pursuit of romance and uncompromising love, travels alone across the ocean from France to the war-torn New World of America in search of Pinzon, the young English officer she is infatuated with.

Yet Pinzon is nothing more than a crook of dubious lineage, a compulsive gambler, and penniless, whose entire interest in Adele is simply the covetous desire of a womanizer for a beautiful young woman, and the fact that she is Mademoiselle Hugo, the daughter of the famous Victor Hugo.

Adele continues to love this unloving man almost "madly", but the other man despises her infatuation, and she goes insane under a succession of heavy blows, and ends up spending the rest of her life in an asylum, alone.

Adele's tragedy stems from the fact that she had a great father, and she was destined to live her life hidden from the fame of Victor Hugo.

She even had a famous sister, Lepolde, who became known to the world for the heartbreaking tragedy of her love - drowning at the age of nineteen on her wedding trip, her husband then threw himself into the water to die.

In a time when women could only exist as their fathers' daughters, their husbands' wives, and even their literary creations could only carry men's names, Adele had a penchant for tragic destinies as a way of making her name known to the world.

She did not end up miserable because she fell in love with Pinzon, but willingly starred in a great, self-sacrificing love that immortalized her as herself, not as Victor Hugo's daughter, not as Lepolde's sister, but as Adele Hugo.

All this tragedy was a cruel game she played with herself, a play of mad absurdity that belonged to her alone.

She fights her father with her writing, she fights Lepolde with the tragedy of love, she devotes herself to a battle she is doomed to lose, and in the end, she crosses a century namelessly as Ms. Hugo, and dies in obscurity, shamed by her father.

But perhaps in a way, she completes her immortality, a century later, in a movie called The Story of Adele Hugo.

After Margaret read the audition script, she was only two hours away from the agreed upon audition time, but it was a good thing that the audition venue was relatively close to her bachelor pad, only about a fifteen minute walk away.

When she passed the Paris Spring department store on her way to the audition, she entered and purchased a nineteenth-century-like white frock to change into; the design of this white dress was not obtrusive, but the details emphasized the classical aristocratic atmosphere.

Since she had decided to audition, Adele Hugo had to belong to her.

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The audition room was packed with big names, and in addition to director François Truffaut and representatives of the French Actors' Union, sat Hollywood's golden producer Albert Ruddy, who won the Oscar for Best Picture for "The Godfather.

Another American who came with Albert Rudy was also a big name on the Hollywood power list - CAA managing partner and gold agent Brian Lord.

The CAA tyrant, not yet in his forties, was suited and smart and looked ready to win a fashion magazine's best dressed at any time.

The dominance of Creative Artists Agency, once described as "CAA before anything else in Hollywood," was briefly threatened a few years ago when some of its founding partners chose to leave the company, such as Ron Meyer, who went to Universal Studios, and began sitting at the other end of the negotiating table, discussing stars' fee agreements. Universal Studios, and began sitting at the other end of the table discussing stars' pay deals, while Creative Artists Agency had to sit across from him and negotiate for their respective interests.

Another founder, Ovitz, left the company for Walt Disney, following CEO Michael Eisner and becoming Walt Disney's second-in-command.

In a time of crisis, a new team, led by Brian Lord, Kevin Horvien, Richard Raft and David O'Connor, took over the Innovative Talent Agency, and Ovitz's successors have prospered despite many in Hollywood predicting the end of the agency.

Within a few short years, Brian Lord had grown into a gold-medal agent with many A-list superstars at his fingertips, and every day in Los Angeles, countless young people looked forward to being the lucky ones to be his new clients, and from then on, they were riding high in Hollywood.

And the reason for his presence at this audition is nothing more than a certain playboy billionaire who is beginning to find his week-long vacation to Paris a little boring, and Brian Lord is there as an escort to find him some new fun.

It was certainly a good choice for Brian Lord to participate in an audition for director François Truffaut, a great director who had made a comeback after many years of retirement, and who, if he were to sign with CAA, would be a big story that would shake up Hollywood.

Oh yes, there is also an unexpected surprise today, at this audition, there is also the famous Italian director Giuseppe Tornadore who is about to start filming The Pianist at Sea.

Tornadore, an up-and-coming director of realism, looks to be in awe of François Truffaut, one of the most influential directors of the twentieth century.

Truffaut, an advocate of film authorship, who emphasized that the director of a film is the main creator and finalist, was equally appreciative of Tornadore, who essentially wrote all of his own screenplays.

Twenty-four years apart in age, the two famous directors, who were also deeply influenced by the realist school, were close friends who had a profound love for each other.

Unlike the famous directors, gold producers and agents at the audition, the white man wearing sunglasses on the far right is clearly neither a French theater figure nor from Hollywood.

But both the gold medal agent Brian Lord and the gold medal producer Albert Rudy, when facing him, they all said that they were attentive and respectful, and even the two famous directors were not displeased by the fact that a non-film industry person, following Brian Lord, appeared at the audition.

The reason is simple: this man, who does not look too calm, is an arms dealer with assets conservatively estimated at one hundred billion dollars.

Not just because he was rich, but mainly because he didn't look like a proper rich man.

Obviously no one would want to offend him casually; after all, they had heard that this playboy and billionaire was a madman who often didn't play by the rules.

Director Truffaut began to discuss with the producer some of the crew matters, the movie has been prepared for all other matters, as long as the selection of a satisfactory female lead role can start shooting next month.

When the audition reached the fifth actress, the look on Truffaut's face already revealed a few hints of disappointment, not that the performance of the auditioned actresses was poor, but that he needed an actress who could outshine the storyline based on her face and gaze alone.

He actually met the actress not long ago, but she turned down the olive branch he threw her way, and even then, Truffaut even sent a second letter of invitation.

When the sixth actress finished her audition, Truffaut was clearly not satisfied with her performance, although he said he was going out to wait for a reply.

That is, until the assistant brought in the next list of actors to audition - and on the front page was Margaret Ajani.

Almost instantly, several of the big names at the auditions sensed a change in Truffaut, and the great director's fatigue disappeared completely.

Soon, the glass doors were pushed open once more, and when the girl walked in, you simply couldn't take your eyes off her.

She has pure blue eyes, long seaweed-like flowing black hair that hangs down behind her, and a classical melancholy mixed with a passion and nervousness that is hard to narrate.

She makes you feel a sense of excellence and precision simply by standing there, before she even begins to perform.

François Truffaut almost wanted to dispense with the audition stage, there could not have been a more suitable actress for Adele Hugo, and no director in the world could have found an actress with such "hysteria, aristocratic nervousness, and fascinating confusion".

Truffaut's tone was friendly, "I'm glad you showed up for this audition, Adjani, or I'd be sending out a third invitation."

"Your second letter of invitation was impressive enough." Margaret broke into a smile, with a noble and elegant mannerism, as if it were two extremes from her vaguely revealing confusion.

Even though Margaret Ajani was the only person Truffaut could accept to play the role, the audition had already reached this point, and in order to show respect to the creator and the other auditioners, Margaret obviously had to convince the crowd with her performance in order to do so.

Truffaut seemed to have an extraordinary amount of confidence in her, and for the audition segment he neither chose Adele being seduced into love by Pinzon, nor did he bring up the storyline of Adele stalking and spying on Pinzon in Canada, but instead just said, "The last scene."

All the creators subconsciously looked toward the director, and this was one of the most difficult shots to interpret in the entire movie!

Just a second later, inside the audition meeting room, everyone's breathing became lighter as they saw the fervent gaze that almost shattered one's mind.

She looked straight at them, her eyes wildly obsessed and persistent on her stunningly beautiful and poignant face, and even murmured with some self-congratulation, "Thousands of mountains and thousands of miles to meet you, this kind of thing, only I can do it!"

Her urgent tone was breathless, her mad beauty was heartbreaking, and almost instantly, the crowd was completely unable to withstand such a gaze any longer; her eyes could simply drive one mad or to hell.

It was a fate worse than death, with the tragedy of self-fulfillment.

A single look from her takes the movie away from the superficiality of male love and brings about a wildly absurd, throat-slashing, fatal immortality.

The conference room fell into a long silence, everyone was lost in thought, not knowing what to think.

Truffaut broke the silence, "No man on earth can escape her eyes."

And a few others are thinking--

Brian Lord: I'm going to sign her myself, and when she enlists in Hollywood, the whole world will go crazy!

Giuseppe Tornadore: Maybe willing to be the muse of 1900 first in a few days before she enters the Adele Hugo cast next month.

A certain $100 billion arms dealer: last month's cover girl was a skinny bamboo stick with an empty head compared to her, I'm going to get her into my bed, oh no, make her my new girlfriend.

Whatever, it means one thing anyway.