After learning about the vice president's thoughtful gesture, Laila was deeply impressed. So much so that when she later expanded her business ventures, she promoted him to a higher position. But that's a story for another time.
After taking photos and interacting with fans at the airport, it wasn't until Laila and her team had to leave that the fans, under the staff's guidance, boarded the arranged shuttle buses in an orderly manner. Once home, they immediately shared the experience on forums and blogs.
Many praised Laila as a rare positive force in the entertainment industry for her considerate treatment of fans. Of course, some naysayers scoffed, saying that with her wealth, spending a little on fans was nothing. But most defended her, arguing that even if she was rich, it was her own money. The fans had gone to the airport voluntarily—she could have easily ignored them and left. Yet she not only fulfilled their requests but also went out of her way to make thoughtful arrangements. If even someone like her could be criticized, then who wouldn't be a target for haters?
Laila's arrival, coupled with the spectacle of a thousand fans welcoming her, became front-page entertainment news across major and minor media outlets.
But her visit wasn't just about promoting her film—it was also about that song. The one dubbed the "ultimate Olympic earworm," a legendary track that had taken the internet by storm.
When Laila saw the online reactions to the song, she couldn't help but laugh. In its original timeline (used for the London Olympics), it hadn't been labeled a "divine bop." Yet now that she'd introduced it early, it had somehow ascended to meme-worthy status.
"Roy, you'd better sing it well," she teased. "Otherwise, it'll end up as background music for square dancing, and that'd be hilarious."
Historically, many viral songs eventually became the soundtrack for public square dancing—imagine seniors grooving to Roy's vocals in parks. The mental image made her burst into laughter.
Roy, however, had no idea why she found it so funny. Square dancing hadn't yet reached its peak popularity, so he wasn't familiar with the cultural phenomenon.
"Of course, I'll sing your song well," he said, puzzled. "But what's so funny about it being used for dance? Isn't that a good thing?" In his mind, dance meant tango, cha-cha, or hip-hop—none of which seemed particularly amusing as a musical backdrop.
Laila only laughed harder, nearly doubling over.
Watching her roll on the bed in hysterics, Roy shook his head helplessly. "Anyway, while we're here, do you plan to check on your investments?"
That sobered her up. "Absolutely. Don't worry about me—just focus on your schedule. I'll have plenty of people around."
"I'm not worried about your safety," Roy said. "This is the East. I've always felt it's an incredibly secure country."
Having visited several times, he knew how welcoming the nation was to foreigners. The strict gun control alone made him appreciate the sense of safety—compared to the U.S., where even Laila needed multiple bodyguards just to move around.
"True," Laila agreed. She knew better than anyone how safe the country was, especially for foreigners. There were even anecdotes about locals asking foreigners to report issues to the police, believing authorities would prioritize cases involving non-citizens.
Not that this perception was entirely wrong—it did concern international image. Unlike a certain neighboring country plagued by corruption scandals, where even the capital had earned an unsavory nickname, dragging its global reputation through the mud.
Laila's investment inspections weren't just routine checkups—they were preparations for the impending financial crisis. She remembered clearly: by September, the U.S. subprime mortgage crisis would erupt, sending shockwaves through the global economy.
During her tenure as acting CEO, she'd redirected all available group funds toward the East. To push the plan through, she'd personally negotiated with every dissenting board member, overcoming skepticism with sheer force of will—and the full backing of old man Oswald.
Frankly, many shareholders' perceptions of the East were decades out of date. Most doubted the wisdom of investing heavily there. Without Oswald's support and her own controlling stake, the plan would've been dead on arrival. Some even sold their shares, unwilling to let a "little girl" steer the company.
Laila was more than happy to consolidate ownership. Snapping up those shares was a long-term win in her eyes. As for whether the sellers would go bankrupt in the coming crisis? Not her problem.
Amid the backlash, she alone knew the truth: leaving those funds in the U.S. for "safer" investments would've been disastrous once the crisis hit. The losses would've left shareholders weeping in the ruins of their portfolios. Her so-called stubbornness would soon be vindicated.
She'd even subtly warned Oswald earlier, hinting at the looming U.S. economic instability. Trusting her insight, he'd adjusted his holdings accordingly. But it wasn't until she took the reins that the group went all-in on the East. Because she knew—that's where the real returns would be.
Her earnings followed the same strategy. Beyond operational reserves, everything else flowed eastward as investments.
Combined, the sums were staggering. The massive capital infusion provided much-needed foreign exchange for the East while boosting employment, welfare, and market expansion. Unsurprisingly, her arrival was met with open arms.
Her investment approach was straightforward: buy land, then develop it. If a reincarnator didn't hoard real estate, could they even call themselves reborn?