"I've always loved Laila and her films. So many people were bashing her before—what do they even know about her? Anyone who understands her even a little would know how much she gives for the sake of her movies!"
"People saying she's just using movies to make money should open their eyes. No matter how fast she shoots, has she ever once disrespected her fans or made a half-assed film? Every movie she's made has been sincere and full of heart—way better than those so-called 'big-budget productions' that turn out piles of crap!"
"Exactly! I support everyone who speaks up for Laila. She's just that amazing! Just that good at making movies! And I'll always support her!"
After that extra-long Facebook post, the comments section blew up with messages like these.
Most people aren't fools—they won't blindly follow the narrative spun by a few with ulterior motives. Sure, some people are a bit gullible or simply don't know much about Laila, so they misunderstand her. But clearly, there are still plenty who stand by her, who continue to love her and her films.
When Laila read those comments, her feelings were… complicated.
To be honest, she had always felt a deeper bond with her fans from the East. Every time she spotted a message written in Chinese characters under her Facebook posts, it would make her smile. But the longer she stayed here, the more she realized her earlier thinking had been too one-sided. Fans are fans—it has nothing to do with nationality, race, or skin color. The feeling of loving something transcends all of that.
Her fans had always stood by her in the past, and now was no different.
For all those people who cared about her, she had to make this new movie great! Not just to challenge her limits, but also as a gift back to her fans. No matter what, she was determined to make this film world-class.
Roy, meanwhile, had taken on the role of stunt coordinator for the production—and he did a fantastic job. Laila wasn't an expert in that field herself, but that didn't stop her from knowing what looked good on screen. She might not know which moves to use when, but she could immediately tell whether a shot looked good or not.
And by "looked good," she didn't just mean flashy action—it had to complement the character and the story. Great choreography could elevate a scene. Bad choreography? It didn't just ruin the shot; it dragged down the actor, too.
Think about Scarlett Johansson playing Black Widow—people loved seeing her take down enemies with graceful, fluid, and seductive moves. No one wanted to watch her rolling in the dirt, clutching an enemy's leg like two rhinos wrestling in the mud.
That's why fight choreography needed careful planning. It had to reflect the character's personality. A soft, feminine character should win with grace and agility; a tough guy needed raw power and heavy punches. Flip those around, and audiences might just ask Laila for psychological compensation for the "muscle Barbie" nightmare they'd just witnessed.
She gave this crucial responsibility to Roy for two reasons: first, she trusted him—knew he'd do well. Second, she wanted to give him experience beyond acting, to help him explore new possibilities.
They always say, "A good singer acts, a good actor directs." Once someone makes a name for themselves in one field, it's only natural to want to branch out. Laila was fully supportive of Roy trying new things. She'd once tried to push him into handling some company admin work. He did it—because she asked—but he never seemed especially into it.
But stunt coordination was different. He loved martial arts, and he wasn't just doing flashy tricks—his skills were real, the kind that could take someone down for real. Letting him design the action was the perfect blend of passion and contribution.
To avoid anyone on the crew thinking she was playing favorites, she only assigned Roy to handle the choreography for Black Widow. Everyone else's fight scenes remained in the hands of the usual stunt team.
Once filming wrapped and people saw how good his work was, it wouldn't be too late to assign him more. But if she suddenly dumped a ton of work on him and sidelined others, it'd look like nepotism—and that would only poison the atmosphere on set.
By the time the summer blockbuster season ended, they'd shot more than half the film. What remained were mostly the complex scenes. Even Laila couldn't afford to keep shutting down New York's busy streets for too long, so she compressed the shooting schedule as tightly as she could, trying to wrap up those scenes in record time.
But it was nearly impossible to keep those outdoor shoots under wraps. Passersby snapped photos, and the footage quickly made its way online. Several media outlets jumped on it and ran with it—they knew better than anyone how much buzz Laila could generate. Even the smallest incident could be blown into a headline. They were desperate to squeeze every last drop of hype from her name.
Anyone interested in her new film could easily find tons of updates online.
Not all of it was fan-generated or media-driven—some of the buzz was deliberately released by Laila's team.
Promoting a film doesn't start right before its release. Just look at how it works in the East—dramas start getting buzz the moment adaptation rights or scripts are bought. When filming begins, the cast's reveal photos are used to stir up excitement. Then official social media accounts post behind-the-scenes clips, stills, and—when things get slow—even gossip or rumors to keep interest alive.
Movies work the same way. Hype starts from the moment a project is greenlit. If nothing interesting happens during filming, you create something interesting. Especially with big-budget projects, the goal is to keep them in the media cycle 24/7.
For Laila, the promotional push for this film was the most aggressive she'd ever done—across both lifetimes. The buzz at the start had been incredible, and she couldn't afford to let it fade. If there wasn't enough heat, she made heat—whether it was through hype, gossip, or controversy. She had no fear of bad press. If bad press meant attention, she welcomed it. Let them smear her—as long as people were talking, she was happy to be the villain.
So during the street shoots, she had her team pose as passersby, secretly filming and posting interesting clips online. The more eye-catching, the better. The goal was simple: stay memorable.
And so, amid all this intense filming, the production slowly but steadily progressed.
As the weather began to cool, Laila started preparing for her next movie.
It was based on a script she had bought from Buddy. She finally gave it a title: Silence.
The two male leads had already been confirmed. It would be a dual-protagonist film—Roy and Leslie Cheung.