I can’t bring myself to say I am, so instead I say, “What’s your name?”
“Laurence.”
“Laurence! I was impressed with your introduction. You’re a big fan of Sam’s.” I lean in. “Me, too.” That’s true enough.
“I didn’t know you would come.” His blue eyes behind the glasses are huge and his skin so translucent I can see the veins tracing beneath.
“I hope it’s okay that I did.”
“Wo hen kaixin.”
Thank God I understand that and can say, “Ni de Zhongwen shuo de hen hao.”
“I’m learning so I don’t have to read the subtitles of Sam’s movies,” he says with pride. “I have a lot of time here at the hospital.”
“What about his movies is appealing?” My thighs ache and I lower myself to my knees.
“He’s real, don’t you think?” He bites his lips as he considers his words. “And good. Even when he beats people up, it’s to protect others. Not to be mean or show off.”
“A very decent trait.”
“I think you’re the same in your movies. When you sent Sam on that mission in that movie to die, you didn’t want to. Why did you?”
“In The Pearl Lotus.” I think about how to describe it to this child and then decide what he thinks is more important. “Why do you think the empress did that?”
“Well, you loved Sam,” he says promptly. “He loved you, too.”
“The characters did in the movie,” I clarify. “Yes.”
“I don’t think you should have,” he says earnestly. “You didn’t even talk to him about it. He might have had more ideas.”
“That would have been smarter,” I say. “You should write your own movie.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“You can write a movie. A screenplay of your own, telling the story you want. Or a play if you want actors to do it on a stage at a theater, like Sam is doing now.”
Laurence’s eyes are huge. “People do that?”
“Sure they do. It takes a lot of work, but you can do it.”
The boy looks down at the floor. A woman comes up and smiles at me. “Mom,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Wei Fangli says I can write a screenplay. Is that true? I can do that? She’s in the movies, so it must be true, right? Is it? She wouldn’t lie to me, would she?”
I’m about to explain to the woman but she’s busy nodding. “Sure you can, baby.”
“Will you show me how?” Laurence turns to me with huge eyes.
“I’ve never written one,” I say. That at least isn’t lying to the kid. “An actor’s job is to act out what you write. I can tell you one thing that might help. Do you want to hear it?”
He nods.
“No one else can be you. No one else can tell your story like you. You are unique, so write the movie you want to see.”
“No one can tell my story,” he repeats with wonder.
“Only you.”
He beams at me. “I’m going to start right away. I already have an idea about a dragon. Do you think Sam will star in it?”
“Will I star in what?” Sam comes up beside me and Laurence’s eyes go so big they engulf his little face.
“The movie I’m going to write. Fangli says I should. Do you think I should?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. “You do it and then send it to me.”
Behind Laurence, his mom ducks her head as the boy screeches in joy. I see the tears on her cheeks.
“We need to head out but can I give you a hug?” asks Sam. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Both Sam and I hug Laurence, who is so fragile I’m scared to hold him too tightly. He’s like a tiny bird. His mother walks us out. “Thank you for coming,” she says quickly.
“I hope I didn’t overstep by suggesting he write his own work,” I say. I’m filled with regret that I said something wrong.
She shakes her head. “To have a project to absorb him will be wonderful.”
The mom disappears and Jessica leads Sam and me back out to the entrance. She’s thrilled with how it went, and I let Sam deal with the small talk because I’m racked with guilt about Laurence. He thought I was Fangli. It didn’t matter that a bunch of rich art collectors or movie industry people or randoms on the street think I’m Fangli, but this does. She wouldn’t lie to me, would she?