Unaware of the danger looming over her, Laila had already returned to the set. The first thing she did was review the footage shot by the assistant director and then give her feedback with utmost seriousness.
She was genuinely trying to mentor him. It might seem a little strange for someone younger to talk about "mentoring" someone older, but any young director would jump at a chance like this.
"This shot isn't quite right. You used lighting to emphasize the lead's expression, which is a good instinct, but this scene needs more than just the protagonist. The emotional impact relies on the others in the frame too. Do you think one person's expression alone can carry the entire moment?"
The assistant director pondered for a moment, then nodded. "So, more facial reactions from the others help heighten the emotional weight?"
"That's one way to put it," Laila said, taking a second to phrase her thoughts. "Just remember—what the audience sees is a massive screen. They'll catch a lot of details, even the ones you might think don't matter. Never assume you can sneak something by them. You'd be amazed at how sharp their eyes can be."
She had experienced this firsthand. In her previous life, countless posts on internet forums had torn apart TV shows and films, pointing out their flaws.
Even though production teams usually watched a film over and over before its release, how did so many errors slip through? The truth was, that their focus often differed from that of the audience.
Filmmakers cared about the story and acting, while viewers might fixate on how fake that flower in the background looked—or how pretty an earring was, only to realize it was different from the one in the last scene.
Not that viewers didn't care about the plot or performances—they just paid attention to more things, especially on their second or third watch. By then, they'd start spotting all the little oddities in the background.
Of course, for those painfully bad shows, the audience skipped straight to "spot-the-mistake" mode from the very beginning.
Laila had worked in television in her past life. She had heard too many stories of shows being picked apart by eagle-eyed netizens. That's why she paid special attention to detail. She didn't want to wake up one day to find her work turned into the butt of a viral joke online.
The crew also noticed a change—the entire atmosphere on set shifted the moment Laila returned. Things became noticeably… more tense, more focused.
The assistant director was talented, but to be blunt—he was too green. He didn't have the clout to command respect from a set full of Oscar winners and big-name stars.
People were cooperative because they were under the same company, and because he had Laila's backing. No one outright disobeyed, but there was a clear difference between giving your all and just phoning it in. And that difference showed on screen.
He could feel it too. On this set, everyone outranked him. What could he do? If this were a new director project filled with rookies, he'd still be the top dog and could run the show with an iron grip.
But not here. It wasn't that no one listened—it was that they didn't give him their best. Not like how they snapped to attention when Laila was directing.
So, when Laila returned, the assistant director felt a bit vindicated. Go on, keep half-assing it. Let's see you pull that in front of the boss!
Still, he knew these seasoned pros wouldn't take things too far. If they gave Laila their best, then for him, they gave just enough to keep things professional. They understood that if they slacked too hard, they'd face consequences once the boss was back.
He was well aware that much of what he shot would end up cut. But that was to be expected. Films had limited runtime. Laila's habit was to shoot at least 250–300 minutes' worth of footage for a 120-minute film.
She didn't care how much material was left on the cutting room floor—she only cared that what made it in was the best. Of course, choosing what to cut was always the most painful part for her.
The day after her return, the crew resumed official filming. Her absence had already delayed things, and if she wanted to release the film by the end of the year in time for Oscar season, she had to wrap by early September.
That would still leave enough time for post-production. It wasn't a big-budget effects movie, so the editing wouldn't take too long.
Once filming resumed, Laila was surprised to find that Leonardo's acting had noticeably improved. Before she left, he was already doing quite well, but still needed a few takes to hit the emotional notes she wanted.
But now? He rarely needed a second take. This made Laila curious—what exactly had happened during her absence that led to such a breakthrough?
After asking around, she found out: that while she was gone, Leonardo had gone with some others to visit nearby impoverished villages, where he encountered severe poverty and hunger. The experience had a profound effect on him—he seemed to grow up overnight. His usual restlessness was gone, replaced by a grounded calm.
Laila could relate. In her past life, she had once traveled to a remote mountain village for a TV shoot. The journey had been long and grueling—first a plane, then a train, then a bus, and finally hours on a bumpy tractor. She remembered vividly how the tractor's rattle echoed in her dreams for days afterward.
And once she arrived, she finally understood what real poverty meant. Straw-thatched huts—just like the ones in old black-and-white photos—stood before her, shockingly real. For someone raised in a big city, it was jarring.
But what left the deepest impression wasn't the buildings—it was the people. She couldn't remember every face, but she would never forget the eyes. Those wide, curious eyes etched themselves into her memory.
Everyone deserves the chance to be happy. Maybe their environment limited their path, but there were always people out there—people with the ability to build roads—that could help them out of the mountains.
Back then, she donated her paycheck from that TV shoot. Of course, it wasn't enough to build a road—those projects cost millions—but she just wanted to do something. Even the smallest help could make a difference.