Laila had initially logged onto Facebook to check reactions to the show and gauge audience interest in the film. But the moment she saw the flood of comments in Chinese characters, she couldn't help but laugh.
It had been so long since she last checked social media that she hadn't realized just how beloved she was among Eastern audiences. The discovery warmed her heart.
"They seem to be talking about that song you wrote?" Roy skimmed a few comments and quickly grasped the gist.
"Looks like the final selections for the competition have been announced?" Laila chuckled. "They're saying my song is 'addictive'—that it makes them 'shake their legs.'"
Roy snorted. "Shake their legs? What kind of description is that?"
"It means they can't help moving to the beat." Laila giggled, endlessly amused by the comments.
If there was one place where internet slang evolved at breakneck speed, it was the East. Skip going outside for a few days, and you might only miss a slight rise in vegetable prices. But skip the internet for a few days, and you'll be utterly lost in conversations. Phrases like "touched but refusing" or "blue thin mushroom" (a homophone for "so upset"), not to mention the endless "XYZ-style" trends—if you weren't keeping up, how could you even claim to be socially relevant?
After watching Laila reply to comments for a while, Roy suddenly remembered their earlier conversation. "So, what exactly is this promotional idea of yours?"
She might tease Nolan mercilessly, but she'd never hide things from Roy. "Simple—it's your face."
Roy touched his cheek. "What about my face?" As Nolan had pointed out, his character in the film was buried under layers of Joker makeup. Without close inspection, no one would even recognize him. What was the point of hyping up his looks now?
Laila took a sip of juice. "I'm planning to flood the media with headlines about how devastatingly handsome you are. You've already been named 'World's Sexiest Man' multiple times—why not leverage that? Let more people see it."
Roy frowned. "I'm not interested in that." Others' admiration meant nothing to him. Even as a public figure who relied on popularity, the only affection he craved was hers.
"Don't overthink it. It's just a short-term hype tactic. Even if you only had a cameo, your involvement alone would boost the film's appeal. The other actors' promotional angles have been exhausted. Right now, you're the only one still shrouded in mystery. That was the original plan, but it doesn't stop us from capitalizing on your star power."
Roy understood her point—using his looks to generate buzz. But how did that connect to the film?
"Think about it." Laila pinched his furrowed brow playfully. "If we hype up your flawless, godlike handsomeness now, only for audiences to see your completely unrecognizable, terrifying Joker in theaters later—what kind of reaction would that provoke?"
Roy paused. What kind of reaction?
"...They wouldn't recognize me?"
"Exactly!" Grinning, Laila tugged his head down and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. "People will be stunned by your transformation. They'll compare your two extremes and finally grasp just how insanely talented the youngest Oscar-winning actor truly is."
Roy's gaze softened as he looked at her. "And that's not all, is it? The media will fixate on me, giving me endless free publicity, skyrocketing my fame even higher."
Laila smiled without denying it.
Without Roy, the film's hype would undoubtedly diminish. His built-in fanbase far surpassed that of any other actor in The Dark Knight. So if Laila used the promotional campaign to give him a boost, who could blame her?
Moreover, her strategy was guaranteed to work. No one understood better than her just how explosively iconic the Joker would become. This version of Roy, refined by her own hands, would hit even harder than the original.
The contrast would spark discussion, and discussion would fuel the film's promotion. At the same time, Roy's acting would be universally acclaimed, and his popularity would surge.
This was classic Laila—minimal input, maximal returns. Even if her "using public resources for private gain" was blatant, no one could reasonably oppose it. While Roy might seem to benefit disproportionately, the more attention he drew, the more the film would profit. It was a win-win.
It all sounded perfectly logical, but Roy knew her true motive was prioritizing him. Since winning his Oscar, he hasn't made any breakthroughs. Even his Lord of the Rings cameo had been little more than a pretty face, offering no real challenge to his acting skills.
Lately, he'd been tied up in her productions—this time without even a cameo—meaning his career had effectively stalled. The world had a short memory. Stay out of the spotlight for too long, and fans will either forget you or find a new idol to chase.
Miraculously, thanks to Laila's careful planning, Roy had never been dismissed as just a pretty face—no small feat for someone repeatedly crowned the world's sexiest man. That he'd also won an Oscar spoke volumes about both his talent and her influence.
But even he needed consistent exposure to avoid fading into obscurity. Hence this plan: leveraging his fame to boost the film, while the film's success would, in turn, relaunch him into superstardom.
"Just be careful," Laila added mischievously. "If we overhype this, you might end up the world's biggest joke."
Roy chuckled. What a fortunate man he was—to be loved by her, to always occupy her thoughts. Perhaps the suffering of his first two decades had been necessary to balance the overwhelming happiness she brought him now. Otherwise, such bliss might have been too much to bear.
"Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it." This was his vow, his creed.
If she asked him to hype his looks, he'd hype his looks. If she told him to jump off a cliff, he'd leap without hesitation—regretting only that he'd never see her face or hear her voice again.
Laila had only been teasing, but his earnest response flustered her. Gulping down the rest of her juice, she hastily turned back to her laptop. "This comment is hilarious—look!"
Roy knew she was dodging the topic. To spare her any embarrassment, he obediently leaned in. "Where?"