Louise had voiced her concern that releasing two films in the same year might hurt their awards prospects. But Laila didn't dwell on it. She felt it might be better if she didn't win too many awards.
Even the fiercest predator couldn't expect to bring down prey with every strike. She was in a hurry to prove her strength—that was why she wanted both films out as soon as possible. If she failed, she'd still be young enough to get back up and try again. Who knew what could happen if she waited another year?
Besides, she had her little calculation.
Once The Avengers hit theaters—whether or not it beat Avatar's record—it was bound to rake in an enormous box office, very likely dominating the summer season and crushing other releases under its weight. In the afterglow, most films following it would look dim by comparison, making her Silence, with its Christmas release, potentially the brightest gem in an otherwise lackluster lineup.
That was for later. For now, all focus was on The Avengers. Truth be told, she did have the ambition to take a run at Avatar's record. She had made major adjustments to the script—trimming away some of the original's unnecessary drag and replacing it with scenes designed to grip the audience harder.
Whether viewers would accept or like those changes, she didn't know. But she didn't regret it—it was, in a way, her final test of her abilities.
Christmas came and went, then the New Year, and soon after, Silence finally reached its final days of filming.
Laila had saved the hardest parts for last, mostly out of concern that any injuries might derail the schedule. No matter how careful she was with safety, there was no way to guarantee no accidents at all—after all, both leads had already been injured once, forcing the whole crew to take an unplanned break.
Even now, Roy and Leslie Cheung still bear a few marks from their time in the wild. The forest might lack large predators, but danger was everywhere—poisonous insects and snakes, and one particularly nasty plant. Its leaves looked harmless, long and slender like blades of grass, but a single careless brush could leave a neat, bleeding cut.
Worse, those leaves carried a toxin that numbed the nerves. It wasn't lethal, but for several hours after a scratch, the injured area would lose all sensation and motor control—like it had been injected with anesthetic.
They'd had no idea such plants grew deeper in the jungle until someone noticed they were bleeding. Only then did the pain set in.
From that point on, anyone going through the undergrowth wrapped their legs in thick protective gear.
After countless challenges, they finally reached the last scene.
But Laila, wanting to keep the ending mysterious, filmed several alternate conclusions—fooling even her crew. If the real ending leaked, it would drag down the film's impact by several notches.
"Cut!" Laila called, and as all eyes turned to her, she paused, then smiled. "That's a wrap!"
"Yeah!" Cheers erupted. They could finally go home.
The island was beautiful and enchanting, but it could never beat home—especially for those with family, who'd long grown tired of keeping in touch with loved ones only through video calls. Now that the shooting was over, they could return to their lives.
She disbanded the crew and arranged for a chartered flight back to Hollywood. After The Avengers and Silence, everyone was exhausted—they'd been running at full throttle for so long that a less experienced crew would have collapsed long ago, let alone kept up with her pace.
Leslie Cheung's group was also prepared to leave. As Laila walked him to his plane, his manager Chan Shufen pulled her aside.
"Director Moran, when will we start promoting?"
Laila immediately understood. "If you want to announce it on your side, I don't mind. But if you go too early, you might face some heavy pressure."
Chan Shufen gave a sheepish smile. "You might not know—Leslie hasn't been this invested in anything for a long time. Ever since he got your script, he's turned down all film offers except for his already-planned concert tour. He's been reading Silence like a man possessed. I'm just afraid he'll get lost in it the way he used to."
Laila nodded, genuinely pleased to hear it. Having her revised script resonate with "Gor Gor" was the highest encouragement she could get.
Chan continued, "If a star stays out of the public eye too long, the audience forgets them. I want to time the film's promotion to help his career too."
To call it "help" was putting it mildly. She could already picture the storm it would cause across Asia when the news broke—Leslie Cheung could become the only King of Pop in the region, not just one among many.
Leslie himself might have no such ambition, but she did. She'd seen his dedication and talent—she wanted the world to see it too.
Laila understood perfectly. She was a fangirl herself—how could she not want to see her idol rise higher and shine brighter?
After a moment's thought, she said, "Silence is set for Christmas next year. The summer will be all about The Avengers. So the earliest promotion for Silence will be after the summer season. We'll push it together then."
"Alright, I understand." Chan knew joint promotion meant maximum benefit. If they jumped the gun, who knew what complications might arise? Half a year's wait was nothing.
They shook hands, and Laila went to Leslie. She smiled, her eyes curving. "Ready to step onto the Oscar stage?"
He blinked in surprise, then smiled back, eyes warm. "Together."
They parted with that promise.
As Laila turned away, Roy followed behind, sounding a little sour. "You're that sure he's going to the Oscars?"
Only then did Laila remember—he was the other lead. If Leslie won, Roy might walk away empty-handed.
"What? You don't think you can give him a run for his money?"