How had she forgotten to buy a few courtyard houses when she first came to the East? Back then, they were dirt cheap—now they were sky-high, nearly impossible to purchase even if you had the money.
"You really like this place?" Yao Yingxia noticed Laila had paused to take in the surroundings and assumed the self-proclaimed "Eastern Culture Expert" was enchanted by the rich cultural atmosphere.
What she didn't know was that Laila was indeed interested in the courtyard houses —but not just because of the culture.
"This place feels wonderful. So comfortable… like it has a soul," Laila replied, careful not to admit that what she really loved was the staggering property value.
Yao Yingxia smiled. "I'm not exaggerating when I say this—our Eastern culture truly does have soul. Thousands of years of heritage have left behind so much that it's infused into the air itself. It's what shapes every one of us Easterners."
Laila nodded. "Yes. Eastern culture is incredibly deep and ancient. A hundred years might seem like long ago for Americans, but to Easterners, it can feel like just yesterday."
Her words made Yao Yingxia nod repeatedly. In her line of work, she often dealt with high-ranking foreign clients—and had seen her share of arrogance. So many acted like they were superior even while standing on Eastern soil, constantly treating locals like second-class citizens.
Not that there weren't polite foreigners, but even the polite ones often just hid their condescension better. Deep down, the prejudice was still there. But Laila was different. You couldn't feel that Western superiority in her at all. If it weren't for her blue eyes and fair skin, you'd believe she was an Easterner.
They had interacted quite a bit, and it was obvious that she genuinely liked this place, without any trace of condescension—she'd been friendly from the start. Yao Yingxia would never forget how, during a time when the country was short on foreign currency, Laila had brought in a massive investment in USD, without making any unreasonable demands.
Yes, she'd made good money building theaters domestically, but she was no charity—of course, she'd profit. Still, compared to those foreign businessmen who came just to strip the land clean, Laila was practically a saint. Just based on that, Yao was more than willing to help her out and hoped she would always continue to love this country.
Once they stepped into the courtyard houses, a young girl dressed in Hanfu and styled like a traditional maid led them through the covered walkways into a room filled with classical charm.
As the door opened, a wave of cool air greeted them.
"Miss Moran, Miss Yao, welcome," a woman in her thirties put down her embroidery thread and came forward to greet them.
"Hello," Laila said with a warm smile, shaking her hand.
After a few pleasantries, they got down to business—trying on the wedding outfit.
Naturally, a traditional Chinese wedding dress had to be red. When the embroiderer brought out the nearly completed garment, Laila was immediately drawn in by the intricate embroidery.
"A rainbow gown, a rosy cape, and a step-shaking crown;
Hairpins and jewels shimmer, clinking gently with each step."
—Bai Juyi.
These two lines perfectly captured the splendor of the traditional fengguan xiapei (phoenix crown and red wedding robe).
Laila hadn't chosen the full, heavy ensemble that was said to wear people out from sheer weight. Instead, she'd opted for a modernized version of the headpiece—not as massive or extravagant, but still breathtaking in its elegance. The craftsmanship was exquisite—well worth every penny.
As for the dress itself, there was no need to say more. The handiwork of the top embroidery artists spoke for itself. Even though only half of it had been completed, you could already see how vivid and lifelike it would look when finished.
Normally, completing such a piece in just four to five months would be nearly impossible. But money wasn't a problem for Laila—and with her status as an "international friend," the shop had agreed to help her out. Only then was it even remotely feasible for her to get the dress in time.
"Will it be ready by October?" Laila asked, a little worried as she looked at the half-finished phoenix on the dress. The remaining parts looked even more intricate.
"Don't worry. We've arranged for multiple embroiderers to work on it at once. No matter what, we'll make sure it's finished before your wedding," the embroiderer assured her.
What she didn't mention was that Yao Yingxia had come beforehand and requested that the entire job be treated as a political mission—they were to give full cooperation to meet this international friend's request.
For the women at Xuanji Embroidery House, this could be a chance to step onto the global stage. As Easterners, who wouldn't want to see the crafts passed down by their ancestors showcased to the world? That's why the shop had agreed and was working overtime.
If it were just a matter of Laila being a foreigner, they wouldn't have gone to so much trouble. In the capital, they saw foreign faces all the time.
Since the dress wasn't finished yet, what Laila tried on were several half-embroidered fabric panels. With help from the embroiderers, she held them up against herself to get a rough sense of the fit.
After the measurements for adjustments were recorded, Laila left the embroidery house. Truth be told, she had really wanted to take a look around the workshop—but seeing that the staff didn't extend such an offer, she didn't push it. There could be trade secrets involved, after all.
While Laila was still in the East, giving interviews and running non-stop for promotions, her film The Avengers was sprinting toward the $1.8 billion mark. When it finally surpassed the historical second-place holder, Titanic, Hollywood was shaken, and fans all around the world were thrilled.
This was 2011. In 2012, Titanic had a 3D re-release that brought in another $300 million globally. That pushed its final total to $2.187 billion.
But right now, Titanic was still sitting at $1.8 billion. So when Laila's movie surpassed that figure, both media and fans exploded with excitement.
Titanic was released in 1998. In all the years since, only James Cameron—with Avatar—had managed to break that record. The next closest contender had been Laila's The Lord of the Rings.
It was like a curse. No matter how confident directors and studios were, they just couldn't crack that $1.8 billion ceiling.
Being stuck in that box was suffocating—and nobody liked it. Not even Hollywood's most ambitious filmmakers.
It's safe to say that every passionate director has once dreamed of lifting that massive ship off their backs. But for years, no one had succeeded.
Now, with The Avengers breaking the $1.8 billion curse, it gave many directors a newfound sense of hope.
They say success breeds success. One breakthrough often leads to more. Once someone breaks a limit, others soon follow.
So $1.8 billion was no longer an unbreakable curse—it had become just another stepping stone. The only question now was: who would be the next to step up and make history?