With a warning shot that left a crater in the ground, the reporters immediately quieted down. Especially the one who had been closest to the blast—his legs nearly gave out. Had he taken even half a step more, that crater might have appeared right on top of his foot.
Barbarians!
The reporters cursed inwardly. But faced with all those cold, expressionless faces and the black muzzles of loaded guns, they wisely chose to shut their mouths.
Laila curiously glanced at the soldiers, suddenly thinking this might be a great way to deal with reporters. Given her status, she was already less hounded than most but just look at Roy—actors like him were constantly swarmed by media. If they could all do this, the world would be a much quieter place.
Of course, that was just a fantasy. Trying something like that would probably earn you a polite "invitation" to the police station, and give the journalists a whole new round of juicy headlines to write about.
Still, the show of force by the soldiers worked. The atmosphere calmed down, and despite a lingering tension in the air, everything seemed more or less peaceful.
At least in Laila's eyes, it was beautiful. Especially when she saw the familiar faces of the film crew—it warmed her heart.
She might have only been gone a little over ten days, but under those conditions, even someone with a strong will would struggle to stay emotionally unaffected. Fortunately, Roy had come to her. If he hadn't shown up when he did, she might've had no outlet for those mounting negative emotions—and even if she had been rescued, the psychological scars could've lingered.
"Dear friends from the media," she said calmly, "I'll give you time for interviews. But before that, can I rest for a bit?"
It was a perfectly reasonable request. Who in their right mind would be in the mood to answer an endless barrage of questions right after being rescued from a den of kidnappers?
It might have been phrased like a question, but it was a clear and firm statement. The reporters had no choice but to back down and wish her a good rest, promising to wait until later for interviews. Even if they had a thousand burning questions, the presence of those gun barrels made sure they behaved.
Besides, they already had a sensational headline to work with—
"Hollywood's Living Legend Returns Alive!"
That title alone was enough to drive readers wild—they were sure of it.
Back at the film set, Laila received a hero's welcome from the entire crew. As for Roy, well… not quite the same treatment.
Sure, his reckless dash to find Laila moved many people—but looking at it from a rational standpoint, it was incredibly irresponsible.
He was lucky he found her. What if it had been a trap? What if the people who lured him out had used him to threaten Laila? He wouldn't have helped—he would've become a liability. And the rescue team would have had to divert resources to search for him. No matter how you looked at it, it had been an irrational decision.
Still, after the initial frustration faded, many could understand his actions. His fiancée had been kidnapped—was that a time to think rationally? Faced with the same situation, who among them could say with confidence they wouldn't have done the same?
So while Laila was being swarmed and comforted by concerned crew members, Roy was dragged off to the side by Xiao Ye and the others for a thorough "scolding session"—they insisted he understand just how reckless he'd been.
Roy, of course, took it all with a smile. He knew this was just their way of showing they cared.
After finally dealing with everyone's concern and curiosity, Laila slipped away using the excuse of calling home.
The first call, naturally, was to her grandfather—though she guessed her mother was probably there too.
Sure enough, when the call connected, it was Janet's voice on the other end.
"This is the Moran residence."
"Mom, it's me—Laila." Hearing her mother's voice, Laila couldn't help but feel a warmth rise in her chest.
"Oh my God! Laila! Is that my Laila?!" Janet burst into tears on the spot. Anyone who saw her swollen, walnut-like eyes could tell how many sleepless, tearful nights she'd had.
Laila could hear the near-breakdown in her mother's voice and felt her own throat tighten. "Yes, Mom, it's me. I'm safe now. I'm at the filming site."
"Laila, sweetheart! Oh God!" Janet was so overwhelmed she didn't know what else to say.
Seeing this, old Mr. Oswald decisively took the phone. "Laila."
His voice was low and steady—reliable like bedrock. It made people feel instantly calm.
Laila felt her chest swell with emotion. "Grandpa, I'm back at the set."
"Good. When are you coming back to the U.S.?"
"Uh…" Laila cleared her throat awkwardly. "I still have some work to finish." Worried he might object like Roy had, she quickly added, "But don't worry! The security team with me now is way more reliable than before. Nothing like that will ever happen again."
"No. Not!" Janet's voice suddenly burst through the receiver—muffled, since the phone was still in Grandpa's hand, but loud enough to express her absolute objection.
Grandpa ignored her. "Give me a reason."
"Grandpa, there's only about a week of filming left. If we all head back to the U.S. and then come back again, the costs and coordination would be a nightmare. Didn't you send extra people to help me? I trust them. This time, nothing will go wrong."
Laila knew she could pressure Roy into backing down with a forceful tone, but not her grandfather. Roy loved her—so even if he disagreed, he'd relent in the end, maybe just demand to accompany her.
But her grandfather was different. If he firmly opposed her, she had no chance. So if she wanted to stay and finish the film, she had to convince him.
As for her mom… well, with Grandpa around, she'd probably just nag her a bit when she got home.
Mr. Oswald listened as she laid out her case—from budgets to safety, addressing every angle with logic and confidence. Her arguments were well-organized and persuasive. Most people would have nodded in agreement by the end.
But this was Oswald—a veteran of the business world, a man who wouldn't be swayed by well-worded reasoning alone.
Still, in the end, he agreed.