r18novel Chapter 23 My name is Rocky
Chapter 23 My name is Rocky
Stallone, carrying Brooks, stumbled back to their cramped basement apartment.
Pushing open the somewhat warped wooden door, a suffocating sense of oppression hits you.
Normally, he would just want to collapse into bed and sleep, to escape this messed-up world.
But today is different.
Stallone sat at his scratched desk and somewhat hastily pulled the note from his coat pocket.
He had a premonition: this was no ordinary blank sheet of paper; it was very likely a ticket to a different future.
The handwriting on the white paper was strong and vigorous, showing a Los Angeles address, a phone number, and a line of text:
"Life is not about how many punches you can throw, but how many punches you can take, and then getting back up and moving forward. That's what a winner looks like."
Stallone's breathing instantly became heavy.
Everything that happened in those few hours was like a bizarre dream, flashing rapidly through my mind.
The heartbreak of being forced to sell my dog, the Chinese man who appeared like an angel in the snow, and the chaotic battle.
He remembered the iron rod that smashed into him, the dull thud of the fist hitting his body, and his stubborn refusal to back down despite his precarious state.
Does it hurt? Of course it hurts.
But it also made me more clear-headed than ever before, making me feel so alive.
"Take a heavy punch... and then keep getting up..."
Isn't this just my life?
Countless days and nights of rejection, countless mocking audition failures, and countless struggles to survive in Hell's Kitchen.
It turns out, all of this wasn't meant to break me down, but to teach me how to "take a punch"!
An unprecedented creative impulse surged within him like a volcanic eruption; Stallone felt he would explode if he didn't release it.
He suddenly grabbed a pen and paper and began to write furiously:
"This is an underground club filled with the smells of smoke and sweat, converted from an abandoned church..."
"A huge image of Jesus hangs in mid-air, looking down compassionately at the boxing ring below, as if silently judging the violence that is taking place."
"In the center of the boxing ring, two heavyweight boxers are locked in a fierce battle. Blood is splattering, and sweat is pouring down their faces."
"One is Rico, nicknamed 'The Spider,' and the other..."
Stallone looked up at the broken mirror on the wall.
In the mirror was a face with a bruised and swollen nose, drooping eyes, and a slightly dull yet hardened expression, like a rock.
He wrote a name heavily:
"Rocky Balboa".
……
Meanwhile, in Midtown Manhattan.
In America, the distance between heaven and hell often only requires a turn.
Qin Han returned to the lobby of the Hilton Hotel, where the heating was on full blast and a faint fragrance filled the air.
"Thank God, you're finally back!"
Seeing him walk in unharmed, Andrew finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He hurried over to her: "If you had been half an hour later, I really would have called the police."
"Don't worry, I'm tough as nails." Qin Han chuckled, patting Andrew on the shoulder before handing the pistol back to Rona. "This thing can't be taken on the plane. Is your luggage all packed?"
"It's all here." Rona holstered her pistol and patted the suitcase sitting beneath her. "Let's not waste any more time here, let's get to the airport."
The three hailed a taxi and headed straight for John F. Kennedy International Airport.
Inside the carriage, Andrew couldn't suppress his curiosity any longer: "Qin, what exactly did you do there?"
Qin Han laughed: "I got a 'fierce dog as tough as a man'."
Andrew blinked. It was that damned riddle again. He could only give up asking.
Rona, who had been looking out the window, turned her head and scoffed, "Stop being so mysterious, Mr. Tough Guy."
"I think you should be more concerned about the situation in Los Angeles right now than about your dog."
She pulled a magazine from her handbag and threw it onto Qin Han's lap.
The cover prominently features a photo of Bruce Lee wearing sunglasses and with a slight smile on his lips.
The title, printed in bold red font, read: "Exclusive Interview: The Dragon of the East and His Hollywood Ambition."
Below, there's a thought-provoking subtitle: "Universal Pictures Joins Hands with Golden Harvest: Can Kung Fu Movies Create a Miracle?"
"My interview has been published in the latest issue of Lorna Barrett's Hollywood."
Lorna's tone carried a hint of arrogance: "Believe me, right now at Warner, there's definitely someone smashing a glass over this report."
"Once we land, you'll be busy."
Qin Han picked up the magazine, looked at his spirited master on the cover, and smiled.
It seems that my speculation about the intelligence system is basically confirmed: all information, no matter where it occurs, ultimately revolves around Hollywood, the world of fame and fortune.
The information updated this morning:
This issue of Lorna Barrett's Hollywood magazine sold out in just three hours on the West Coast, and the printing press is urgently printing a second batch, marking a new quarterly pre-order record for the magazine.
He handed the magazine to Andrew beside him, his gaze fixed on the receding New York streetscape outside the car window:
"Our master's popularity is even higher than we imagined."
……
Burbank, Los Angeles.
The atmosphere in the president's office at Warner Bros. Studios was somewhat oppressive.
Although the air conditioning was on full blast, Ted Ashley still felt a bit hot, and the collar of his shirt made it hard for him to breathe.
On the desk in front of me lay a copy of "Lorna Barrett's Hollywood".
Just yesterday, he still thought he was the winner who controlled everything.
In an effort to suppress Golden Harvest, Shaw Brothers proactively offered up the North American distribution rights for "The Fist Within Four Walls" for a bargain price of just $20,000.
At this very moment, the copies of the materials shipped from Hong Kong should already be flying over the Pacific Ocean.
As soon as it lands, Warner Bros.' massive marketing machine will start running, ready to reap the box office rewards.
But all that good feeling vanished the moment the magazine was published.
"Universal Pictures and Golden Harvest jointly distributed..."
This is not just news, it's a resounding slap in the face.
He had assumed that Bruce's failure to come looking for him was just a bluff.
After all, of the seven major Hollywood studios, only Warner Bros. has shown genuine interest in kung fu films.
To everyone's surprise, the other party actually knocked on the door of "Black Tower" and even reached a cooperation agreement with that troublesome Jewish man from Universal Pictures—Sidney Sinberg!
Ashley's gaze fell on a passage in the middle of the article.
It quotes Bruce Lee's philosophy about "water" and his explanation of the core of kung fu movies.
Although it was only a few words, the depth of thought and personal charm it revealed made him feel a chill.
This is completely different from the poorly made fight scenes in "The World's Number One Fist".
A strong sense of crisis arose spontaneously.
If before he just wanted to buy a "cheap item" to test the waters, now the situation has changed.
"Knock knock knock".
A rapid knocking interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in!"
The secretary pushed open the door and entered, looking somewhat flustered: "Mr. Ashley, Fred, the director of the distribution department, is here. He says he has an emergency to report."