This would be her very first truly original film—one she had long prepared to challenge herself with. The script had been painstakingly polished, refined down to every punctuation mark. She had scrutinized it word by word, refusing to let a single detail go overlooked.
Once the film officially entered the prep stage, the first thing she did was call Leslie Cheung.
"The movie's ready to begin. Would October work for you?"
Leslie had been waiting for this call. When he heard her question, he gave a silent smile.
"I've been ready for a long time."
The script Laila had prepared with such care was naturally brilliant. From the moment he received it, he was completely immersed in the story. But this time, he hadn't revealed anything to the public. And it was just as well—if people had known, with everything happening in the U.S. and the delays in her other projects, the backlash might've turned him into a laughingstock.
When Laila decided not to announce Leslie as one of the leads, it was because she wanted to keep Silence under the radar. Not all films needed the same kind of hype. If The Avengers required wall-to-wall, in-your-face publicity, Silence needed the exact opposite—quiet.
Because casting an authentic East Asian man as the lead—and not for a martial arts film—was still an anomaly in Hollywood, or even in the West at large. Arrogant Hollywood producers and directors simply didn't believe Asian actors had any real acting chops. Even Jackie Chan had to fight tooth and nail to gain a foothold here.
As for others? A fully authentic East Asian actor wasn't someone they would take seriously.
Laila didn't want these kinds of distorted and outdated perceptions to affect her cast or crew. She had never believed that Asian actors lacked ability. The true veterans—real stage actors—could express volumes in the smallest gesture or movement. What they lacked wasn't skill, but access to a larger stage.
So when she signed the deal with Leslie, she made it clear that this would remain confidential—until she decided it was the right time to reveal it.
There was a clear advantage to this approach: the potential for an explosive reveal. Although her reason for casting him wasn't to generate shock over nationality, she certainly didn't mind leveraging that angle for publicity if needed. Morals? In the face of a PR opportunity, she didn't have any to spare.
And, as it turned out, keeping things under wraps had been the right move. If the news had leaked during the period when public opinion turned against her and production delays were piling up, Leslie could've become an easy target for ridicule.
That's just human nature—jealousy, bitterness, and resentment toward what they can't have.
Back when he was cast in The Lord of the Rings, plenty of people openly said he got lucky being noticed by a big-name Hollywood director. Behind the scenes? People were whispering about backroom deals, shady connections, and worse.
Almost every successful actor goes through it. The moment you land a good role, some people will say it's not because of your talent or your look, but because you must've done something behind the scenes.
If people had known Leslie was starring in another one of Laila's movies—as the lead—the backlash would've been even worse. If the film was then delayed? That would only fuel their nastiness. No one would bother hiding their malice anymore.
Laila had considered this outcome before. But when she called him earlier, she hadn't heard even a hint of complaint or hesitation in his tone. Maybe he was just good at hiding it. Or maybe it hadn't affected him. She figured the latter was more likely—someone at his level, a superstar of his generation, wouldn't be shaken by a bit of gossip.
"Then October it is," Laila said cheerfully. "I'll send someone to pick you up."
But just before she hung up, Leslie's voice came through again.
"Could you tell me where we're filming? If it's inconvenient, I can make my way."
"It's on an island," Laila replied. "There's a private charter route. I'll arrange transport for you—it's perfectly secure. And even though filming will be completely closed off, you don't have to worry about staying in contact. There's internet and satellite phones."
Leslie nodded. "Got it. Let me know when it's time."
"Of course." Laila agreed without hesitation.
Honestly, a big boss like her didn't need to personally handle things like contacting the actors. But she had a unique emotional connection to this "older brother" figure—someone whose star had tragically fallen in her previous life. So she'd quietly snatched the task for herself.
At the same time, The Avengers had entered its final stretch.
"CUT! That's a wrap!"
The moment Laila shouted, the entire set exploded in celebration.
It was over!
Finally over!
Everyone's face lit up with joy.
Newbies working with Laila for the first time were a little confused.
"Everyone's this excited just for wrapping a movie?" they asked. "Don't they do this every year? Why act like this is their first time on set?"
Those in the know quickly stepped in to explain:
"You don't get it. Laila's productions have a tradition—whenever they wrap, they throw a party. Big, fun, wild."
"Oh, that's it?" The newbie nodded like they understood, but inwardly wondered—It's just a wrap party. What's the big deal? Haven't we all been to a few?
What they didn't realize was that, in the beginning, when the crew was still small, those parties were just casual celebrations among themselves. But as Laila's team gained fame, things began to change. Outsiders started trying to sneak in—hoping that rubbing shoulders with a crew member might land them a role someday.
Gradually, the wrap parties grew and grew. People brought friends, friends brought friends—and since the boss was footing the bill, why not network a little?
Naturally, with all the noise and crowd, word eventually got out. The press, always sharp-eyed, was already keeping tabs on people close to the production. Once they saw them heading out in groups to celebrate, it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
That very night, the entertainment headlines exploded:
Laila's new movie has officially wrapped.
It was the end of September. Back in early March, right after the Oscars, Laila had announced a big-budget production in response to mounting negative press. And now, it was done?
That fast?
Sure, blockbusters often spend more time in post-production than in shooting. But still… wasn't this a little too fast?
Was Laila taking this film seriously? Did she plan to break the all-time box office record?
Because of the way she was shooting…
There didn't seem to be a single trace of sincerity.