Leon felt like he was in a dream, a very beautiful dream.
Wrapped in warmth.
A "pop" sound rang out.
"Honey, get up! Wake up, quickly! My dad is back!" Leon's body was shaken urgently as a worried girl's voice called out in his ear.
Leon gradually opened his eyes, and his vision slowly Spotlighted.
A vast expanse of snowy white entered Leon's sight.
A nearly naked blonde girl with a hot body was frantically pulling on a slip dress, her fine figure outlining breathtaking curves in the morning light.
The girl's deep blue eyes were wide, her face filled with panic.
"What's wrong, Amanda?" Leon called out the name completely unconsciously.
But in the next second, Leon snapped awake. Why was he here? Who was Amanda?
Where was the warmth from his dream just now?
"Quickly, quickly!" The girl named Amanda walked quickly across the floor barefoot, then picked up a pile of scattered clothes from the floor and threw them all at Leon.
"Put them on and leave, fast. My dad is coming upstairs; he'll kill you!" Amanda said as she straightened the straps of her slip dress.
Leon picked up the clothes thrown onto him. A faint, sweet scent of the girl still lingered on them, but he was in no position to enjoy it now.
His consciousness wasn't fully awake yet; he just instinctively began to put on the clothes.
Suddenly, the "thud, thud, thud" of hurried footsteps coming upstairs echoed from a distance.
Accompanied by the hoarse roar of a middle-aged man:
"Fuck! Who the hell is it? I'm going to kill you!"
Immediately after, a woman's voice tried to dissuade him: "Jack, don't be impulsive! For God's sake, put the gun down!"
A gun?
Leon jolted, any remaining sleepiness instantly vanishing.
As the shadow of death loomed, Leon's dressing speed suddenly accelerated!
He frantically pulled on his pants, slipped into a T-shirt, threw on a jacket, and shoved his toes into his shoes, with no time at all to tie the laces.
Before he was fully dressed, Amanda was already urging him on.
"This way, this way, Leon." She had already run to the window and pushed it open.
The cold morning air rushed in, fluttering the thin curtains and blowing away any trace of wishful thinking in Leon.
He leaned out to look; the window was two stories high, with a manicured lawn below.
It was about three-plus meters, less than four meters.
Over three meters high?
Leon suddenly felt confident.
As a Stunt Actor who had clawed his way through the Mexico for years, he was proficient in car stunts, explosions, and high-building jumps. A three-meter jump like this, with the lawn to cushion the landing, was child's play!
So, using both hands and feet and driven by the will to survive, Leon climbed onto the windowsill somewhat awkwardly.
At that moment, Amanda leaned in, cupped his face without a word, and gave him a hard kiss. The moist, soft touch flashed by, carrying the girl's passion.
Then she quickly whispered in his ear, "Call me," her eyes full of tenderness.
Before Leon could savor the girl's tenderness,
He heard a loud "Bang!" The bedroom door lock was being violently struck, and the doorknob was turning frantically!
Terrified, Leon could no longer bother to adjust his posture according to Stunt Actor operating standards.
Saving his life was more important!
Steeling himself, Leon fixed his eyes on the lawn and leaped down!
The whistling The Message rang in his ears, and the sensation of weightlessness suddenly appeared.
"Thud!"
Leon landed on both feet, the impact traveling through his leg bones to his entire body.
Leon rolled forward with the momentum, trying to dissipate most of the force.
The movement was a bit stiff, but at least the force was cushioned.
His whole body, except for a slight stinging in his ankle, was generally unharmed.
Leon patted his chest, relieved that nothing had happened.
Luckily, his Stunt Actor instincts were still there; Leon silently gave himself a thumbs-up.
He scrambled up to flee, instinctively glancing back up.
And that glance sent his newly steadied soul into a shock again.
At the second-floor window, a sturdy middle-aged white man in work clothes, with a full beard and a face full of rage, was holding a rifle, pointing the muzzle in his direction!
Beside the middle-aged white man was a middle-aged woman, presumably Amanda's mother, who was pulling hard on his arm, while Amanda also tried to grab the man's hand, shouting something anxiously.
"Bang!"
The gun went off!
Leon reflexively lunged forward and rolled over.
Leon could feel the heat of the bullet grazing past his scalp, letting him know this wasn't a movie set; he had truly just been shot at.
"Fuck!" A national curse escaped his lips.
Leon scrambled to his feet in a hurry.
Holding up his beltless pants with one hand, he swung his other arm and sprinted down the street for his life.
Behind him, the furious roar of the man named Jack still echoed in the morning air:
"Fuck, who is it? I'll definitely kill you the next time I see you! I swear!"
Leon sprinted all the way, not daring to look back until he had turned several corners. Only when he was sure the middle-aged man with the rifle hadn't followed did he dare to stop, leaning against a utility pole and gasping for air.
Leon looked around; he should be safe for now.
Only then did he have the chance to slowly straighten his clothes.
Leon took off his jacket, straightened his T-shirt, and put the jacket back on.
Then, he pulled up his pants and fastened his belt, and finally, carefully tied his shoelaces.
Having done all this, he finally had time to observe his surroundings.
This was an unfamiliar street, looking somewhat like a North American neighborhood, likely a satellite city far from the downtown area, with houses and lawns lining both sides of the street.
In the quiet morning, people already out walking their dogs cast curious glances at him.
The sunlight spilled down, creating a scene of peace and harmony, except for him—an uninvited guest who had just escaped from a gun's muzzle.
Then, Leon looked down at his hands.
The knuckles were distinct, the skin was fair, and the backs of his hands were covered with a thin layer of faint golden hair.
These weren't Leon's hands.
He touched his face again; the deep contours and high bridge of the nose felt very foreign.
"Who exactly am I? Where am I? Why was I shot at?" Leon couldn't help but start thinking deeply.
He pulled a flattened pack of Marlboros from his jeans pocket, stuck a cigarette in his mouth, then took out a Zippo lighter and lit it.