Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The trending topic turned out to be a false alarm. The only consequence was that the production crew had to adjust the filming schedule, moving Tao Hui’s scenes up.

The next morning, the crew still had the day off. Tao Hui slept in, waking up at 9 a.m. She stretched luxuriously in the morning light.

She was staying in a hotel suite, and the living room still carried a faint spicy aroma of hotpot and crayfish from the previous night’s dinner. The memory of the meal left her feeling frustrated.

For Best Actor Han, a native of Sichuan-Chongqing, she had risked getting a sore throat by ordering a table full of spicy dishes. While she ate with gusto, sleeves rolled up, Han Buji barely touched his chopsticks.

Later, Tao Hui realized: Best Actor Han couldn’t break his Beijing persona! How could he possibly eat spicy food in front of her?

Still, dining with Han Buji was surprisingly comfortable. Though he couldn’t indulge himself due to his public image, he enthusiastically peeled crayfish for her, leading Tao Hui to devour a whole pound of the crustaceans by herself.

With no filming scheduled that morning, Tao Hui quickly freshened up and headed to the set to review the script and observe who might harbor such hostility toward her.

Tao Hui had a gut feeling that someone from the production crew was behind the sudden surge in trending topics and the subsequent attacks from marketing accounts.

After all, outsiders weren’t allowed into the Film and Television Base. The photos from the hotel and set could only have been taken by someone within the crew.

The set was nearly deserted. Tao Hui sat in a corner, studying her script, when Han Buji’s manager, Wu Yue, and Xu Chang’s assistant, Zhang Zhaoyang, walked past her.

Wu Yue stood with his hands on his hips. “Can you get Xu Chang under control? Han Buji can’t handle spicy food at all. His stomach flared up this morning, and he was sweating from the pain…”

“Was it Xu Chang? He went to bed early last night. Maybe he snuck out in the middle of the night to order spicy duck necks again. I’ll definitely give him a talking-to later,” Zhang Zhaoyang replied, scratching his head.

Neither of them noticed Tao Hui in the corner as they continued their conversation and walked away.

Tao Hui stared wide-eyed, processing the information she had overheard.

Han Buji can’t eat spicy food? His stomach flared up this morning? And he was sweating from the pain?

Tao Hui recalled the bubbling pot of chili oil from yesterday’s hotpot dinner and guiltily bit her lower lip.

A bottle of mineral water suddenly appeared before Tao Hui, followed by the scraping sound of a chair being dragged across the floor—screech—as a figure with the scent of cedar and sandalwood settled beside her.

Tao Hui saw Han Buji, looking as fresh as a spring breeze, quite unlike the sweaty, pale figure Wu Yue had described.

She grabbed Han Buji’s sleeve and whispered conspiratorially, “Are you sick?”

“?” Han Buji raised an eyebrow, giving Tao Hui a deep, searching look.

“No, no, I mean… do you have a stomach problem? Can’t eat spicy food?” Tao Hui cupped her hand around her mouth, her heart pounding with anxiety as she asked softly, “I just heard your manager say your stomach flared up. Was it because I treated you to that spicy hotpot yesterday?”

Han Buji lowered his gaze. The young woman’s brow was furrowed slightly, her eyes filled with unease, and even her eyelashes drooped dejectedly.

If he told her the truth about his stomach condition, she might drown in guilt.

Han Buji suddenly smiled and beckoned her closer. “Come here. I’ll tell you a secret.”

Tao Hui was completely consumed by guilt, convinced she had triggered Han Buji’s stomach ailment by overzealously serving him spicy food.

She desperately wished she could transmigrate back to the previous night, grab her own hand as she enthusiastically piled tripe and duck intestines into his bowl, and shout, “He has a condition! He can’t handle spicy food!”

Lost in these thoughts, Tao Hui didn’t fully process Han Buji’s words. She instinctively leaned closer, tilting her head to expose her snow-white earlobe.

Han Buji’s eyes flickered slightly. He leaned in, shielding his mouth with his hand, and whispered close to her ear, “It’s just for maintaining my public persona. Don’t feel any pressure.”

Maintaining his public persona?!

Right! Han Buji claims to be from Beijing, so he has to pretend he can’t handle spicy food!

Tao Hui’s excitement surged. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “You scared me to death! I thought I’d made you sick. Hey, do people from Sichuan-Chongqing ever not eat spicy food?”

“Sichuan-Chongqing?” Han Buji tilted his head, his expression puzzled.

Tao Hui clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry! I forgot—the persona! I’ll keep it a secret!”

Han Buji merely smiled, offering no further explanation.

After Han Buji was called away by the Director, Tao Hui belatedly realized her ears were burning. She rubbed her earlobe and muttered, “Why did he have to get so close? It’s not like we’re in class! What was with all the whispering?”

Tao Hui had been filming action scenes all afternoon, leaving the martial arts instructor drenched in sweat. Tao Hui herself looked like she’d been pulled from a river, needing frequent breaks to touch up her makeup.

Han You, having finished filming at another location, rushed over with a thoughtful gift: a cup of coffee for Tao Hui. Taking advantage of the Director’s absence, she whispered encouragingly, “Go get ’em, Sister Tao!”

Tao Hui didn’t touch the coffee Han You had brought. Instead, she sipped the mineral water Han Buji had given her earlier.

By evening, Tao Hui was completely exhausted, her body aching as if she’d been beaten.

Miao Miao claimed Han You’s coffee for herself, supporting Tao Hui while savoring each sip. “Sister Huihui, what do you want for dinner?”

“Anything’s fine,” Tao Hui replied weakly. “Right now, all I want is a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.”

Back at the hotel, Tao Hui leaned back in her chair, spooning up the congee Miao Miao had bought for her. Across from her, Miao Miao was sucking on her fingers as she devoured fries and a burger. Tao Hui was so exhausted she didn’t even have the energy to open her mouth.

Buzz. Her phone vibrated.

[ Teacher Tao, are you coming? ]

It was an invitation from her Little Fanboy to play games.

Too tired to type, Tao Hui called him directly, slumping in her chair as she spoke. “No, I’m not coming. Your Teacher Tao is practically dead from exhaustion today. I don’t have the energy to play. Queue up yourself. If you lose, I’ll avenge you tomorrow. Right now, I just want to finish this Jinji congee and go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Little Fanboy replied listlessly, then, as if just realizing something, he asked tentatively, “Teacher Tao, the Jinji you mentioned—is that the congee chain in Beijing? Are you in Beijing too?”

Tao Hui sat up straight, startled. She’d been too careless, forgetting that Jinji congee shops only existed in Beijing. Judging by Little Fanboy’s tone, he was in Beijing as well?

“Yes, I’m in Beijing,” Tao Hui replied, glancing at Miao Miao, who was rushing to the bathroom.

What’s up with that girl? She’s already run to the bathroom three times since we got back to the hotel. Is it her period?

“What a coincidence! I’m from Beijing too,” Little Fanboy said with a cheerful smile. “Teacher Tao, you’ve been playing games with me for so long. I wonder if we’ll ever have a chance to meet in person?”

Tao Hui hesitated. She hadn’t planned on meeting Little Fanboy. After all, he was only 19 and still in school, while she was a celebrity, making such a meeting complicated.

But Little Fanboy was so gentle and kind, and they’d been gaming together for so long. Tao Hui didn’t want to reject him outright.

After a moment’s thought, she suggested, “Let’s not plan anything specific. I have a pink birthmark on my neck, quite large and shaped like a petal. I’m 165 cm tall. If we happen to bump into each other by chance, that’s fate. If not, no worries.”

“But I don’t usually show my birthmark,” Tao Hui added with a smile. “Let’s leave it up to fate!”

Little Fanboy was silent for a moment before suddenly asking, “Teacher Tao, why don’t you show your birthmark more often?”

“Ah, that…” Tao Hui lowered her gaze to the cooling congee in her bowl, a flicker of sadness crossing her eyes. After a few seconds of silence, she finally said, “Because I’m afraid of being found. I’m actually…”

Before Tao Hui could finish her sentence, Miao Miao suddenly burst out of the bathroom, her face ashen as she collapsed onto the table, her voice barely a whisper. “Sister Huihui, my stomach… it hurts so much.”

Tao Hui looked up, startled by Miao Miao’s pallor. Beads of sweat rolled down Miao Miao’s forehead, her face as white as paper. Tao Hui hastily covered the phone and said, “Sorry, Little Fanboy, my friend might be sick. I have to hang up now.”

Without waiting for a response, Tao Hui hung up abruptly.

She reached out to touch Miao Miao’s forehead, asking anxiously, “What’s wrong? Why does your stomach hurt so suddenly? Is it your period?”

Miao Miao sobbed in pain, her eyes red-rimmed as she whimpered, “My period just ended, Sister Huihui. It hurts so much… my stomach hurts so much… Ugh!”

Miao Miao clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted back to the bathroom, followed by violent retching. Tao Hui poured a cup of warm water and rushed in to find Miao Miao slumped on the floor, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her face. “I feel so awful… Sister Huihui, I don’t feel well…”

“Did you eat something bad? Why did this happen so suddenly?” Tao Hui paced anxiously, handing Miao Miao the water. She grabbed her coat and slipped on her slippers, dashing out the door. “I’ll go find a medical staff member. Wait here, don’t move. Just wait for me!”

Tao Hui didn’t wait for the elevator. She raced to the stairwell and, relying on her memory, found room 305 on the third floor—the medical staff’s quarters. She’d been there twice recently for a burn injury.

“Dr. Wang! Dr. Wang, are you there?” Tao Hui knocked urgently. “Dr. Wang, my assistant is sick! Are you there?!”

After relentless knocking yielded no response, Tao Hui stood helplessly at the door, her mind racing.

“Should I call Dr. Wang?” Han Buji’s voice suddenly came from behind her.

Tao Hui’s mind was consumed by Miao Miao’s condition. She didn’t notice Han Buji was also wearing slippers, nor did she find his sudden appearance on the third floor odd.

Clutching at this lifeline, she nodded frantically. “You have Dr. Wang’s number? Great! Can you call him for me?”

After hearing the situation, Dr. Wang instructed Tao Hui to stay with Miao Miao, suspecting food poisoning. He warned that if her condition worsened, she might go into shock and advised calling an ambulance.

Tao Hui whirled around and sprinted back, Han Buji following close behind. As they burst into the room, they saw Miao Miao weakly struggling to her feet. Suddenly, her eyes closed, and she collapsed backward.

“Miao Miao!” Tao Hui screamed, catching her in her arms.

Just before they both crashed to the ground, Han Buji, who was behind them, caught them just in time. He said in a deep voice, “I’m calling an ambulance!”

The nearest hospital was quite a distance from the Film and Television Base. Han Buji made a quick decision: “Let’s drive in the direction of the ambulance to meet it halfway. We’ll save time.”

Tao Hui sat in the back seat of Han Buji’s car, cradling Miao Miao in her arms. Han Buji drove at breakneck speed, finally intercepting the ambulance on the road ten minutes later.

The hospital’s pungent disinfectant smell was suffocating. Dr. Wang diagnosed Miao Miao with food poisoning. Tao Hui, her hoodie pulled low over her head, sat before the doctor, fighting back tears as she recalled everything Miao Miao had eaten that day.

By the time Zhou Xun rushed to the hospital, Miao Miao was already out of danger and receiving intravenous fluids in the inpatient ward.

Tao Hui stood in the hallway, her head bowed, looking utterly defeated. “I’m sorry, Sister Xun,” she mumbled. “We’ll never eat anything we shouldn’t again.”

“I told you not to keep eating those street food snacks,” Zhou Xun said, waving her hand dismissively. She glanced at Han Buji, who was wearing a mask, then turned to Tao Hui. “Huihui, go home and get some rest. I’ll stay with Miao Miao. You have filming tomorrow—don’t waste your energy here.”

After speaking, Zhou Xun politely asked Han Buji, “Teacher Han, could you please take Tao Hui back with you?”

Han Buji nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Be careful when you leave—try not to get photographed,” Zhou Xun reminded the two artists, still in his pajamas with a coat thrown over them.

Tao Hui followed Han Buji out, glancing back repeatedly. By the time they returned to the hotel, it was past midnight, and the corridors were deserted.

Han Buji escorted Tao Hui to her room door. Her eyes red-rimmed, she thanked him. “Thank you, Teacher Han. I’m sorry for troubling you today. Please get some rest.”

Suddenly, Han Buji reached out and patted Tao Hui’s head, as if to comfort her.

Tao Hui looked up at him in surprise, but he had already withdrawn his hand. Leaning closer, his expression unusually grave, he said, “Tao Hui, many coincidences aren’t coincidences at all. Be careful.”