Laila and the host chatted for a long time—not just about her own films, but also about online shows and new media. Out of a two-hour conversation, it would be lucky if ten or fifteen minutes made it into the final cut, so she simply treated the rest of it as a casual chat.
They weren't far apart in age—if anything, Laila was a few years older.
Considering how much joy their show had brought her in her past life, she wanted to offer them some sincere advice. Even if it didn't instantly transform their work, if they could take away even a little something, then all her words were worth it.
After the interview ended, as Demi followed her boss back to the hotel, she noticed that Laila had been smiling the whole time—a rare sight. She couldn't help asking curiously, "Boss, you seem to be in a great mood. Was the interview fun?"
"It was," Laila replied with a smile. "Seeing a group of passionate young people makes me feel like if I stop trying, I'll end up getting swept away by the next wave."
Demi looked at her, wondering if she was joking or being serious. But with that ever-smiling face, it was impossible to tell.
"…Boss, I've been with you since you first joined the company. I swear on the most precious thing I have—you are by far the hardest-working person I've ever seen." So if anyone's getting swept away, it should be people like her—women tangled up in kids and boyfriends, drained of ambition and drive.
Laila shook her head with a smile. "Living isn't easy. How can you afford to waste any opportunity to give your all?"
Demi thought she was referring to the illness that had nearly taken her life as a child, but what Laila was really thinking about was her past life.
To Laila, being reborn was the greatest gift Heaven had ever given her. She lived every day with gratitude; therefore, she couldn't allow a single day to go to waste.
She could pour her effort into filmmaking, or into spending time with her family and children—but wasting it on meaningless distractions? That, she couldn't forgive herself for.
As expected, the online talk show episode featuring Laila blew up when it aired.
Most young people these days are on the internet anyway. National TV channels and traditional interview programs didn't really appeal to them. So when Laila agreed to appear on this small online show out of goodwill, she never imagined the level of impact it would have.
Just looking at the barrage of danmu (live bullet comments floating across the screen), you'd know—when Laila appeared for the guest segment, the entire screen was flooded. If you didn't turn off the text overlay, you couldn't even see what was being broadcast underneath. And the main message across all the comments was just one word—
Legendary!
For a show that had been running for less than a year to land a top Hollywood director? If that's not legendary, what is?
Some viewers even joked that the production team must have blown the budget for the next ten years. Not only did they land such a big-name guest, but they even replaced their usual crappy bench with a nice little sofa!
To everyone's surprise, the host later responded on Weibo:
"Director Moran didn't charge a single cent, and even left her autograph."
Attached were several pictures of her signature, written in a bold, flowing hand—Laila's English name.
Naturally, that triggered a flood of envy, jealousy, and admiration on Weibo toward the show's crew.
That alone was enough to make the film's publicity campaign a complete success. Laila began receiving a slew of new invitations—many from similar online interview shows.
But this time, she declined them all politely, citing a packed work schedule.
She knew those requests were mostly opportunistic—people jumping on the bandwagon just because she didn't ask for a fee. While she didn't care much about appearance fees, she also understood a simple truth:
Scarcity breeds value.
People don't cherish what comes for free.
Agreeing to one online show made her seem approachable and grounded. But if she started accepting every offer that came her way, the name "Laila Moran" would start to lose its value. Even in the past, every program she appeared on—even those from lower-tier local stations—had huge followings.
As for shows no one had ever heard of? No need to waste anyone's time.
While she was staying in the East, The Avengers had essentially "booked out" theaters nationwide—including those owned by her own cinema chain.
Other films showing at the same time were barely clinging to life, their prospects looking grim. The smarter producers had already moved their release dates the moment they learned her film would be hitting screens.
No joke—even major Hollywood directors would avoid releasing during the same window as one of her films. So what chance did smaller, local productions have? If they didn't want to end up with an embarrassing flop on their record, it was best to stay out of the way.
A few low-budget films thought they were different enough in genre and wouldn't be affected, so they went ahead with their original plans.
The result? Everyone saw it—trying to survive under the crushing weight of Laila's box office dominance, clinging on for dear life, hoping to last until her movie's theatrical run ended.
In the East, most films get a one-month screening period. Unless a movie is especially popular, it usually won't get an extension. Barring an early pull due to terrible performance, films are guaranteed for one month.
With The Avengers' current numbers, as long as there's no sudden drop, an extension was practically guaranteed.
Compared to those films blasted by fans as flops, this action-packed, adrenaline-pumping story of superheroes battling aliens was simply irresistible to audiences.
If the movie had been bad, no matter how hard Laila worked, the box office would have gone nowhere. There are plenty of moviegoers, but few of them are fools. They're happy to support good films—but good can't be fabricated with marketing or sweet talk. The film has to genuinely be good for people to buy into it.
Sure, a PR team can hype a popular movie even more, but when everyone is shouting "scam," you can't just act like the only sober one in a world of drunks. That won't win you any sympathy.
Just look at the reviews from major media outlets—they all praised the film's stunning visuals, its humor that never felt forced, its brisk pacing, and its thrilling scenes that hit one after another, leaving the audience breathless.
The performances also received high praise. Every superhero under Laila's direction exuded incredible charisma. They were portrayed as strong and intelligent individuals—yes, they had their conflicts and differing worldviews, but when true danger struck, they rose to the occasion to save the world.
Their courage brought peace. And their bravery in the face of evil became a source of inspiration for all.