Leslie smiled as he listened to Roy and Laila joke around, unaware that he was currently lighting up television screens across thousands of households, radiating elegance under the watchful eyes of countless viewers.
To Western audiences, the age of an East Asian is always a mystery. Though he was no longer young, he was now at the exact age when a man was at his most charming.
Even for those sitting in front of the TV who didn't know who he was, curiosity would be inevitable. The camera may have focused on Laila and Roy, but with the three of them walking together, many viewers were bound to notice Leslie.
Especially since he possessed a kind of magnetic presence that forcibly drew the gaze of others. The moment he stood there, he became like a human-shaped magnet, effortlessly pulling all attention toward him. People simply couldn't look away.
"Who is he?"
"Why is he walking the red carpet with Roy and Laila? They look like they're really close."
Online, such questions would immediately be met with ridicule.
"You don't even know who that is? What are you, stuck in the last century?"
"That's one of the lead actors from Laila's film Silence! This year's Golden Globe Best Actor!"
"Seriously? There are still people who don't know who he is. His acting is phenomenal! How can anyone not know him?"
"Exactly! He's so mysterious, so magnetic—I think I've already fallen for him!"
If families were watching TV together, and someone in the room didn't recognize the man on screen, they'd quickly be "educated."
"Zhang is the hottest star right now. If you said you didn't know him in public, people would laugh you out of the room!"
Back on the red carpet, the trio had no idea that they were already lighting up screens across the world. At the moment, they were stopped by an interviewer for a red carpet interview.
"Laila, Laila! What's your secret? How did you manage to get both of your male leads nominated this year?" the host asked eagerly, clearly fishing for a story.
Laila smiled. "It's not just my doing. I feel very honored that both of them were nominated. If I had to name a reason, maybe it's because I have a good eye for spotting the potential inside actors."
The host turned to Roy and Leslie with exaggerated skepticism. "Is that really how it went down?"
Roy, ever the wife-devoted husband, would never disagree with anything his wife said. He nodded enthusiastically. "She's absolutely right. Laila knows exactly what she's doing."
Leslie simply smiled and nodded his agreement as well.
Truthfully, he still didn't know why Laila had chosen him out of all the actors available. If all she had wanted was an East Asian actor, anyone in the massive Asian entertainment industry would've been thrilled to be chosen. He may have had some fame, but Laila was more than capable of succeeding in the Asian market without needing a token Asian actor.
So why him?
Now that she said it was because she saw potential in them, maybe she really had seen something in him after all.
The host, clearly unsatisfied with Roy's biased answer, chuckled and sighed. "I really shouldn't have asked that guy. Alright, alright, your wife is perfect. Let's ask our dear Zhang—are you confident about the award tonight?"
Leslie answered with a calm smile, "If I win, I'm grateful. If I don't, it's fate."
"Meow meow meow?" The host was stunned by the sudden use of a poetic Chinese phrase.
Roy, ever the scene-stealer, laughed out loud at the host's reaction. "He means: if he wins, it's a blessing; if not, it's just destiny."
The host shrugged in amusement. "Well, I wish all of you a wonderful evening."
He had originally planned to coax some fun soundbites from the "new Asian guy," but it turned out Leslie was just as experienced and well-versed in deflecting tricky questions. He even used elegant-sounding Chinese to avoid answering directly. If he asked another question only to be hit with more inscrutable philosophy, he'd be the one looking like a fool in front of tens of millions of viewers.
So, after offering his blessings, the host moved on to the next group of celebrities.
The trio exchanged smiles and made their way into the venue.
Since both of Laila's films had been nominated, the Oscars had arranged for their teams to sit together. After all, both productions had used almost the same crew—it would've been hard to separate them even if they tried.
Laila's crew was filled with the industry's top-tier professionals. When she wasn't filming, they were free to do whatever they liked—join other productions, collaborate with different studios, or even take extended vacations. There were no restrictions.
When the three of them arrived, the rest of the team was clearly delighted—especially the nominees, who were grinning so hard their eyes almost disappeared.
Don't be fooled—many of them had already been nominated or even won awards in the past. But that didn't mean they weren't hungry for more. If there was another trophy up for grabs, they'd gladly take it.
Laila looked around and couldn't help but recall her early days in Hollywood. Back then, she had just inherited the crumbling Phoenix Pictures from her bargain-bin biological father, Reynolds. The company had been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.
To make the most of the last remaining budget, she had produced The Blair Witch Project, which miraculously became the company's first major hit. With a global box office of $300 million, the film had practically knocked the jaws off every employee in the company.
That was the turning point.
From then on, the company was no longer filled with panic and unrest. People stopped slacking off or secretly planning their exits.
Laila had never told anyone, but those early days were incredibly difficult. If she hadn't hired the right people when she did, there would've been no glorious future to speak of.
Thankfully, those hard days were behind her now.
She had achieved everything she set out to achieve—and so had the people who followed her. Fame, fortune, recognition. She'd built a company culture where one thing was made abundantly clear: those who follow me will leave their mark in film history.
Otherwise, she knew those big studios flashing huge checks would've poached her entire team before she ever got the chance to rise.
She had never underpaid or mistreated her people. She made good money, and she had no problem sharing it. Offering better pay and benefits was her way of keeping talent close—and in the long run, what she got back was always worth far more than what she gave.
Just look at the company now. Whenever a fresh-faced newcomer talked about "making it in Hollywood," their first choice was usually the Dragon Soul New Talent Program.
Thanks to her reputation and the studio's track record, Laila had access to a goldmine of rookie talent. Even if only half of them panned out, that was already an incredible success rate. Other studios, green with envy, had scrambled to set up similar programs—hoping to scoop up a few rising stars of their own.
But no matter what they tried, how could their resources possibly compare to Laila's?