Finally, it was time for the Best Film Editing award.
Although the Oscars had expanded the Best Picture nominations to ten this year, it was clear the judges believed only four films truly met the standard for editing excellence—namely, the three current frontrunners, The Artist, The Descendants, and Laila's Silence, along with The Avengers.
The Avengers aside, grouping Silence with those two other films as "top contenders" felt a bit... reluctant. Compared to The Artist, which had already picked up multiple awards, and The Descendants, which had just taken home Best Adapted Screenplay, the completely empty-handed Silence looked weak in comparison.
Laila's talent for editing had long been recognized by the public. The fact that she managed to get two of her own films nominated for Best Editing was proof enough.
Though both were directed by her, the editing styles of the two couldn't have been more different.
The Avengers was a high-octane superhero blockbuster, full of special effects and meant to thrill audiences. So Laila had gone for a fast-paced rhythm, especially during the action scenes—using sharp, precise cuts to heighten the tension and adrenaline.
Silence, on the other hand, started more like an adventurous comedy. For the first half, she used a slower pace, allowing the bond between the two male leads to gradually build over time. In the second half, a long sequence of battle scenes picked up the tempo, only to slow down again near the end for emotional payoff.
Two different stories. Two entirely different editing styles.
And she'd nailed both. That was the depth of Laila's skill—more than twenty years of experience, in both this life and the last, hadn't gone to waste.
"And the Oscar for Best Film Editing goes to… Laila Moran, Silence!"
The moment Laila's name was called, Roy and the rest of the production team collectively let out a breath of relief.
After so many letdowns, they had finally won something.
If they'd gone home empty-handed despite all those nominations, they wouldn't have needed the media to roast them—they'd bury themselves in shame voluntarily!
Thank goodness.
Thank goodness their boss was the real deal!
There was a flurry of relieved celebration, but Laila herself didn't seem particularly happy despite the win.
After all, her true calling was directing—and yet, time and again, it was editing that brought her the awards.
It was both funny and frustrating.
Yes, she was glad, but the joy came with a tinge of bitterness.
Soon after, The Avengers finally took home an award for Best Visual Effects, which Laila figured was probably the only one it would get that night.
She glanced at the time, her fingers lightly tugging Roy's wrist.
The Oscars had passed the halfway mark. As the major categories approached, the atmosphere in the theater was growing palpably tense.
Twelve nominations for two films—so far, only two trophies to show for it. Whether they could turn things around would come down to these next few heavy-hitters.
When Natalie Portman stepped onto the stage, Laila immediately knew—it was time for the Oscar for Best Actor.
By tradition, the previous year's Best Actress presented the award for Best Actor.
Last year, Natalie swept both the Oscar and the Golden Globe for her performance in Black Swan. That's why she presented the Golden Globe for Best Actor to Leslie Cheung earlier—and now, she was here to hand out the Oscar.
As she took the stage, clips of the nominees began playing onscreen. Each one received a wave of applause.
When Leslie Cheung appeared on the screen, the room erupted with the loudest round of applause.
It wasn't just out of respect—his presence as an Asian actor in this category was a milestone in itself.
His nomination wasn't just personal recognition—it was a sign of progress in Hollywood's journey toward racial equality.
Natalie held the envelope in her hands. After all the clips had played, she tore it open, scanned the name inside, then looked up and slowly announced:
"The Oscar for Best Actor goes to… Roy Jixing, Silence."
"Whoa!"
The audience exploded with cheers and whistles.
"Ha!" Roy laughed loudly, pulled Laila into a kiss, and then strode confidently up to the stage.
"Thank you all." He held up the golden statue and turned to Laila, lifting the award slightly in her direction.
"I'm absolutely thrilled to win this. I'll never forget how shocked I was when I first saw the list of nominees. I mean—God, the people I was up against! How was I even in the running? And if I didn't win... would my wife have banished me to the couch for the night?"
The crowd burst into laughter.
Laila's exasperated face-palm was broadcast to millions of TVs around the world, earning another wave of good-humored chuckles.
Roy had said it on purpose. He'd noticed how upset Laila had been earlier—winning only two awards so far clearly wasn't what she had hoped for. He wanted to make her laugh, even just a little.
At the same time, winning this award meant the world to him.
Because it wasn't just about beating the other nominees—it was about surpassing the man who had effortlessly caught his wife's attention.
He genuinely admired Leslie Cheung's acting, but that didn't mean he saw himself as inferior. Hadn't Laila always told him he was born for this profession?
"I'm deeply honored and truly grateful to receive this award." Roy's voice turned steady and sincere.
"Before coming to Hollywood, I never imagined I'd become an actor—let alone be liked by so many people. When I was a kid, I had to rely on pretending and putting on acts just to get food. Who would've thought a skill I once resented would one day lead me to such beautiful moments in life?"
He looked out toward the audience, the bright stage lights illuminating his proud figure.
"I want to thank my wife, Laila. She gave me the happiness I have today. I want to thank the entire Silence crew—every one of you is incredible. I want to thank my co-star, Leslie Cheung. He's an extremely talented actor, and I'll never forget the time we spent filming together. And lastly, thank you to all my fans. You're like the sun in my life!"
He lifted the trophy once more, blew a kiss toward the camera, and then walked offstage.
Watching his retreating figure, Laila found herself dazed.
It had been more than a decade since her rebirth into this world, and she wasn't the only one whose life had been changed by cinema.
The first time she saw Roy, she'd been struck by his face—back then, he still carried a youthful defiance and unpolished energy. Even after years in Hollywood, he was the type to throw punches before words.
Now, more than ten years later, he'd grown into a real man.
Reliable. Mature. Grounded.
Most importantly, he had become an irreplaceable part of her life.