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🕑 Added 2025-06-19 16:37:16 +0000 UTCChapter 1706: The Finishing Touch
Laughter erupted, filling the room, and even Charlie, who had been so tense his palms were sweating, couldn’t help but join in.
Perhaps the only one left in the dark was the bewildered security guard, his head full of question marks.
The curly-haired, chubby guy scrambled to his feet, not bothering to brush off the dust, and looked at the crowd doubled over with laughter. Finally, his gaze landed on Anson, his expression calm and candid. “No worries, our target markets don’t overlap. You’re no threat to me.”
Hahaha, hahaha!
The laughter grew even louder, unstoppable.
Chris wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “Anson, so this is the secret weapon from the movie?”
Anson nodded lightly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “So, what do you think? Surprised? Unexpected?”
Chris didn’t respond with words. Instead, he stepped forward and gave the chubby guy a big hug. “Welcome, welcome! I never thought we’d finally get to work together.”
The chubby guy let out an exaggerated groan of pain. “Easy, easy! I know you can’t resist my charm, but my bones are about to snap. No need to be that enthusiastic.”
When Chris finally let go, the chubby guy turned to Brad.
Brad stood rooted to the spot, his face full of disdain, refusing to budge.
Undeterred, the chubby guy spread his arms wide and strutted toward Brad. “Come on, come on! I know you’re thrilled. We can pretend we’re strangers now, but we both know the truth. We remember what happened back then, don’t we?”
His suggestive tone was clearly spinning a tale out of thin air, but the shocked and stunned glances from passersby showed that plenty of people actually bought it. Suddenly, everyone was in Sherlock Holmes mode, piecing together the “clues.”
Brad shot the chubby guy a helpless look but finally waved him over. “If I’d known it was you, I’d have thought twice about Anson’s pitch.”
The chubby guy grinned. “I know, I know. Without me, it’d be way too boring. No reason to join, right? I totally get it.”
Amid the teasing, the chubby guy still managed to pull Brad into a big bear hug.
Nearby, the security guard, witnessing the whole scene, stood with his jaw practically unhinged, his mouth wide enough to swallow three, four, five, six, seven fists at once. Completely baffled, he turned to the lobby manager, his eyes pleading for confirmation.
An actor? This chubby guy was really an actor?
Jesus Christ!
The lobby manager had been dropping hints left and right, practically frantic, but now he threw caution to the wind. His exaggerated winks and nudges couldn’t have been more obvious.
But the security guard, frozen like a statue, missed it all, utterly unresponsive.
Anson caught the scene and, with a hint of exasperation, cracked a joke. “I’m not sure how terrifying the rumored Anson Wood is supposed to be, but I can confirm Anson Wood doesn’t eat people.”
He paused for effect.
“At least not raw. The blood needs a little… handling first.”
The lobby manager and Charlie chuckled politely, their faces plastered with forced smiles as they exchanged awkward pleasantries. But they never truly relaxed, and Anson didn’t push them to.
Maybe, in Anson’s own eyes, he was still the same guy—unchanged, trying to stay grounded, kind, approachable, and steering clear of the fame game’s vortex. He didn’t want to act like he was above anyone else or take privilege for granted.
But to others, a superstar was a superstar. Every gesture, every word, held the power to make or break someone’s life. Not quite God, but close enough. Who knew? One moment he might seem friendly and warm, but the next, a single slip-up could spiral out of control if they let their guard down.
They could never be friends with Anson. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t dare.
That was the reality of class—intangible, invisible, but undeniably there.
Helpless. Bitter. But true.
The higher you climbed, the rarer and more precious friendship became. Bonds tainted by self-interest could never stay pure. Human nature was too fragile to test lightly.
The higher you went, the lonelier it got. There was truth in that saying.
That’s why The Hangover felt so special.
Onscreen and off, a group of friends managed to push aside the troubles and entanglements of real life. Stepping into Las Vegas was like falling down a rabbit hole—together they goofed off, pranked each other, bantered, and went on wild adventures, rediscovering the purest bonds of friendship.
Chris and Brad needed no explanation. Anson had planned to invite Scarlett for the same reason, and the chubby guy, Alan, the film’s pivotal surprise, was no exception.
Without a doubt, Alan was the finishing touch. No matter how small his role, his presence had to spark chemistry, bringing the whole movie to life.
Anson thought of Seth Rogen—the Seth from the “Freaks and Geeks” crew.
Seth didn’t live under the same roof as Anson and the others, but thanks to James Franco, he popped by the house every few days. Seth and James were practically joined at the hip, like conjoined twins, so it wasn’t much different from him living there.
Some mornings, they’d find Seth sprawled on the kitchen floor like a beached whale, curled up tightly. It was no shock anymore—James would be nearby, passed out in a shrimp-like curl, equally hungover. If they freaked out every time, their hearts would’ve given out long ago.
These past few years, Hollywood had been a whirlwind. Anson had skyrocketed to the top, James’s career was thriving, but Seth, like Chris, was struggling a bit.
There was progress, of course. Seth kept auditioning, pitching, creating. Beyond acting, he stayed committed to writing scripts and performing stand-up comedy at underground clubs. He’d landed some opportunities, no question.
After Freaks and Geeks got canceled, Seth scored roles in Donnie Darko, Undeclared, and Anchorman, among others. But they were all small parts, nothing groundbreaking.
In fact, Seth’s writing talent earned more praise than his acting. He wrote scripts for TV shows, worked as a late-night comedy writer, and even snagged an Emmy nomination—shared, but still a milestone in his Hollywood journey.
Regrets aside, Seth and James stayed tight, just like Anson and Chris. Their friendship never drifted.
No question, Seth had comedy chops. His wit, his scripts, his ideas earned plenty of nods. But this was Hollywood—talent alone wasn’t enough. Seth had been rejected more than once for his “look.” Some producers even bluntly called him too ugly to watch.
That was Hollywood: in a place where everyone hated “phonies,” yet no one could resist a pretty face.
Lately, Seth had been weighing whether to shift behind behind the scenes—writing, producing, relying on his skills to break through.
Then The Hangover came along. Perfect timing. Anson needed a fresh vision to breathe new life into the film’s cast.
A spark of inspiration flashed, and Seth’s name popped into Anson’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, the role of Alan was tailor-made for Seth.
Chapter 1707: Self-Doubt
Seth Rogen, in the memories of his past life, ultimately succeeded, standing at the pinnacle of Hollywood’s pyramid. He may not have been a member of the $20 million club, but there’s no doubt he was the most successful, representative, and influential figure among the younger generation of the “Frat Pack.” He was impossible to ignore.
It all started with The 40-Year-Old Virgin in 2005.
In that film, the Frat Pack, with Judd Apatow at its core, officially stepped onto the stage for the first time, catching the attention of all of Hollywood. The movie was a complete success, both at the box office and with critics.
For Seth, it was his first foray into behind-the-scenes work, as he tried to find his place within the Frat Pack. Though he still played the primary supporting role in the film, he also took on the role of producer, handling creative communication and coordination. The film’s massive success showed Seth his own worth.
Not only did it boost Seth’s confidence, but it also made Hollywood studios see the potential of the Frat Pack. This became a turning point in Seth’s career.
Afterward, Seth mustered the courage to dig up a script he had written at sixteen, polished it, and began looking for production companies. And he succeeded—not only did he secure funding, but he also served as producer and lead actor, achieving the most significant milestone of his career.
That movie was the critically acclaimed Superbad.
In the summer of 2007, Seth, an unassuming, even slightly awkward-looking guy, became Hollywood’s biggest winner, earning both fame and fortune.
First came Universal Pictures’ Knocked Up, a romantic comedy made on a $30 million budget that grossed $148 million in North America and $219 million worldwide.
Then came Sony Columbia’s Superbad, a raunchy comedy made for just $20 million, which raked in $121 million in North America and $170 million globally—an even bigger profit than Knocked Up.
Box office aside, the critical reception was another story. What truly turned heads was the genre: comedy.
As a genre that consistently holds its own in the movie market, comedy always has a place in the summer blockbuster season. But Hollywood hadn’t produced a truly satisfying comedy in years. Seth, a comedic talent who could write, act, and produce, burst onto the scene, and everyone took notice.
Add to that the cost-effective, tight-knit Frat Pack, and Seth’s value skyrocketed. He became one of Hollywood’s hottest commodities.
From then on, Seth’s Hollywood career soared. This unremarkable-looking guy amassed industry resources and status that rivaled even James Franco.
But everything comes down to timing.
Right now, Judd Apatow still hasn’t created The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and Seth Rogen’s Hollywood dreams are still stuck in place.
In truth, Seth has had opportunities—more success than most Hollywood actors. Over the past five years, he’s acted in TV shows and movies, contributed to scripts for series and talk shows, and attended private parties thrown by Hollywood A-listers. Compared to the countless unknown, struggling actors, this was already a “successful” Hollywood adventure.
Yet, despite so many opportunities, he still hasn’t broken through. This has left Seth confused.
Maybe not everyone is cut out to be an actor. Maybe Hollywood’s glitz and glamour belong to the beautiful and charismatic, and an ordinary, unremarkable guy like him is destined to never claim a spot in the spotlight.
Seth feels like he’s standing at a crossroads, forced to rethink his life.
Then Anson shows up, with a script for The Hangover.
Alan is a lunatic—a quiet, innocent-looking nutcase who goes wild but still manages to look clueless, as if he has no idea what he’s done wrong.
That naive, innocent vibe is the most important thing for the character.
Anson had considered several other candidates, but none had the right quality. Seth kept coming to mind.
Seth’s innocence comes from a “nerdy, comic-book-obsessed neighbor” vibe. His plain, honest appearance is deceptive—a stereotype, but one that, when cleverly used in a comedy, becomes a stroke of genius for creating laughs.
As it happens, Seth has been in a rough patch lately. Not only has he gained weight, looking like a puffed-up pufferfish, but he’s also disheveled—scruffy beard, messy hair, like he just crawled out of a dumpster.
Everything about him is perfect for the role.
When Anson invites Seth to join the project, Seth is overjoyed. But amidst the excitement, he hesitates. He’s worried he might ruin Anson’s work.
While Seth is grateful for Anson’s willingness to give him a shot, he fears he might not be cut out to be an actor and could end up being the one who tanks the entire project.
To Seth, Anson may be riding high now, but Hollywood’s jealous, hateful glares are everywhere. Anson needs to be cautious at every step. After the success of The Butterfly Effect, Anson’s first project as a producer, the spotlight on The Hangover will be even brighter. Anson needs to give it his all.
“You shouldn’t give anyone ammunition against you,” Seth says, verbatim.
To Anson, this is a sign of Seth’s lack of confidence. That’s the nature of Hollywood’s fame game—glamorous and dazzling on the surface, but the pressure is relentless. Everyone is constantly scrutinized and tested. One misstep, and self-doubt creeps in, pulling you into a quagmire.
This is why so many in Hollywood face serious mental struggles.
And for comedians, it’s often worse.
On screen, they make audiences laugh. But in real life, they bear pain the public doesn’t see—or refuses to see.
Charlie Chaplin, Jim Carrey, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams—these comedy giants all quietly carried their psychological burdens, swallowing their pain and torment alone, leaving only laughter and joy on stage, a timeless force in the river of history.
Seth is still young, not yet at the point of “torment.” But there’s no denying that five years in Hollywood have been a rollercoaster for the young man. The whirlpool of fame is like a black hole, where time loses meaning. Five years feels far longer than it sounds.
No wonder Seth, who’s the same age as Anson, looks like he could be Anson’s uncle.
Anson’s response? “Please don’t ruin my Mariah Carey diva moment. I finally made it big— isn’t the whole point to throw my weight around and do whatever I want?”
“If I can’t even cast a friend in my own project, God, wouldn’t that make me a total failure?”
Of course, it’s a joke, and it gets a laugh out of Seth.
The real reason, naturally, goes deeper.
Anson values friends and friendship, but he’s not reckless enough to gamble his career or projects on a whim.
Chapter 1708: Superstar Treatment
Indeed, Anson wanted to work with friends on The Hangover, but the prerequisite was that these friends were right for their roles.
Friendship is friendship, and work is work—two separate things.
As for the real reasons, Anson later had an in-depth discussion with Seth. They talked about the tone of the entire movie, the nuances of the characters and their roles in the story, Seth’s natural gifts and talents as an actor, and the chemistry Anson hoped Seth would bring to the character of Alan.
Everything was approached with professionalism.
“Friends are friends, but I’m not going to ruin my project just for friendship. I’m not at the point where I can casually throw away ten million dollars without blinking.”
A playful jab, followed by a quip, “See, I didn’t invite James.” That finally convinced Seth.
Despite his hesitation, fear, and doubts, Seth made up his mind. “If you believe in me, I’ll give it a shot.”
Anson shook his head, his face dead serious. “Just giving it a shot isn’t enough. I need you to be Seth Rogen. I need you to go all in and show off your comedic genius. I need the young guy who’s the brains of the Frat Pack. I need the actor who looks like a middle-aged man but still holds a childlike passion for comedy in his heart.”
“Seth, I need you to be outstanding.”
That earnest expression radiated boundless trust. Between the teasing and banter, there was a relaxed, genuine sincerity—classic Anson. It gave Seth the confidence and drive he needed.
Over the past few weeks, Seth had been diving deep into the script and his role. It wasn’t just for Anson’s sake. Strictly speaking, this was Seth’s first major role on the big screen. Though not the lead, he was part of the core group, with significant dialogue, screen time, and narrative weight.
Seth wanted to approach it with 200% effort. He studied the script repeatedly, discussing it with director Todd Phillips and Anson.
As it happened, Todd had been working with the two screenwriters to refine the script, and Seth once again showcased his comedic talent, offering plenty of suggestions for the details.
Surprisingly, the Hangover project was fully on track, making exciting progress and breakthroughs.
From his brief appearance just now, Seth seemed to have already slipped into the role, playing it naturally and perfectly, even breaking the fourth wall to stir up some chaos.
Seeing the cautious, almost intimidated reactions around him, Anson didn’t push further. After a quick exchange of pleasantries and handing things off to the hotel lobby manager and the private butler for the luxury suite, Anson dismissed everyone.
As Anson and his group entered the suite, amid playful shoving and teasing, the door slowly closed. You could practically feel everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, their tense nerves finally unwinding.
Charlie exhaled deeply, only to realize he wasn’t the only one. He turned and locked eyes with the lobby manager.
Charlie paused for a moment. “This is all going smoother than I expected.”
The lobby manager nodded eagerly. “Anson’s not quite like the rumors.”
Charlie was about to ask, “What rumors?” but held back, staying silent. He just nodded vaguely, mumbling something like, “It’s good that everything’s going smoothly,” followed by a polite, “Hope the shoot goes well,” before turning to leave without lingering.
What happened here needed to be reported to company headquarters ASAP.
The lobby manager watched Charlie’s retreating figure but didn’t linger either. His clearance level was too low; he only handled minor tasks. He also needed to report to his superiors to see how Caesars Palace management would handle things next.
The brief bustle at the door died down, and calm quickly returned. Inside the room, however, everyone was in shock, eyes wide.
The spectacle at Caesars Palace’s entrance had already prepared them. As one of Hollywood’s top stars, Anson’s treatment was naturally top-tier. Sure, Anson traveled light, unlike Mariah Carey with her entourage of thirty or forty, but his treatment was absolutely the cream of the crop.
The grandeur was undeniable.
Whether Anson wanted it or cared, no one dared to slight him. This was also why Anson disliked being surrounded by a crowd—his freedom was shrinking.
Chris and the others thought they were mentally prepared—or at least they believed they were. But seeing the luxury suite prepared by Nobu Hotel still left them stunned.
Even Seth, who never stopped chattering, was suddenly speechless, frozen as the scene before him unfolded like a painting.
So this was the true superstar treatment—something imagination alone couldn’t capture. You had to see it, feel it, to understand.
Spacious, bright, with unobstructed views.
Pushing open the door felt less like entering a room and more like stepping from indoors to outdoors. The space, as big as a football field with a ceiling over two stories high, was flooded with golden sunlight—warm but not harsh—filling every corner. Light danced across ivory statues and polished marble floors.
Straight ahead, an entire glass wall offered an unimpeded view of the world outside. A gently flowing stream wound through jungles and rocky outcrops. You could even see smooth, glistening pebbles rolling beneath the water, with golden sunlight sparkling on the surface.
By the stream, some lounged on the beach soaking up the sun, others sipped afternoon tea under parasols, and a few dipped their feet in the water while chatting. Despite the crowd, it didn’t feel cramped. A soft breeze seemed to carry the rustle of treetops and birdsong.
Lifting your gaze, blue skies and white clouds hovered above, bathed in serene, golden light.
For a moment, it felt surreal, like stepping through time to Hawaii, not the desert heart of Las Vegas. But a quick blink brought reality back—waiters in black suits, white shirts, and ties weaved through the crowd with cocktails in hand.
Hold on, this wasn’t a beach. This was Las Vegas!
The line between fantasy and reality shattered, like being in a mirage. You knew it was fake, but it was hard to tell. The breathtaking beauty, the warmth on your skin, the overwhelming awe—it pulled your soul into a mystical world.
And yet, this wasn’t outdoors—it was indoors.
But why did it feel so completely like the outside?
Seth and Chris couldn’t contain their excitement, racing through the suite like kids. Their footsteps echoed, mixed with gasps, fragmented squeals, and cheers. The sound of their light, bounding steps carried an infectious joy and thrill, palpable even without seeing them.
“Anson, Anson! There are four bedrooms—four!”
“My God, there are three bathrooms!”
“No, four!”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, you guys have to see this—there’s a freaking Roman bath!”
“Holy crap! There’s an entertainment room with an actual basketball court—I’m not kidding, a real basketball court!”
(End of Chapter)
