Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Tao Hui’s cold came on fiercely, leaving her feeling dizzy when she arrived on set the next day.

But taking a day off was out of the question. The more people wanted to see her fail, the more determined she was to succeed.

This stubborn spirit had been forged in Tao Hui’s childhood.

Back then, the children at the orphanage spent their days playing together. In August, during the sweltering heat, the director would send the older kids to take the younger ones to the Bei’an River.

The river wasn’t deep, but Tao Hui was terrified of water—she was the only one who couldn’t swim.

The playful children went wild at the sight of the river, leaping in with splashes and shouts like dumplings being tossed into boiling water. No one bothered to check if Tao Hui could swim.

Some kids even taunted her, “Tao Tao, come on in! Don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Still afraid of the water?”

Tao Hui refused to back down. Why could everyone else do it but her? Alone on the riverbank, she cautiously waded into the water, inch by inch. When she choked on the water, she crawled back to shore, coughing so hard her chest ached.

The mischievous children laughed at her from afar, but the more they laughed, the more Tao Hui gritted her teeth and kept practicing.

As Tao Hui herself put it, “I learned to swim by drinking half the Bei’an River.”

Tao Hui was an optimist, able to brush off most things with a cheerful “Rabbit Fur Meat, A-Juice, Gooze Take Zdei!” (Tù máo ròu, A zī, é ná zé dei! Tomorrow is another day!)

The trending search topics and Miao Miao’s hospitalization proved Han Buji’s point, “Many coincidences aren’t coincidences at all.” But the more people targeted her, the more determined she became to excel.

For several days, Tao Hui filmed with a low-grade fever, showing no signs of illness. She was full of energy, and no one even suspected she was sick.

“Sister Tao Hui!” Han You bounced over, having just removed her wig and styled her hair into a ponytail. “You’ve been so busy these past few days! I haven’t had a chance to talk to you.”

Tao Hui set down her script and smiled. “It’ll be better after these scenes. You came at the perfect time—this coffee is for you.”

“Wow, thanks, Sister Tao Hui!” Han You glanced at the table, noticing only one cup. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Aren’t you having any, Sister Tao Hui?”

“I never drink coffee,” Tao Hui replied, pushing the paper cup toward Han You. Looking her in the eye, she added earnestly, “I added something special to it. You’ll love it.”

Han You’s hand froze momentarily as she reached for the cup, her fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly. She forced an innocent smile. “Sister Tao Hui, I’m feeling a bit overheated right now. I’ll drink it later.”

“Whatever. I’m off to filming now.” Tao Hui stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her clothes. “You can drink it, or give it to your assistant. Just don’t know if your assistant can handle it—she’s not exactly like Miao Miao, you know?”

Han You’s smile looked strained. “Sister Tao Hui, what do you mean by that?”

“Huh?” Tao Hui turned back, her face an innocent mask. “No hidden meaning. I just doubled the cream. Isn’t your assistant always complaining about dieting? Won’t she mind the extra fat?”

“Miao Miao never cared. She’d eat anything high in calories.” Tao Hui chuckled, waving her hand. “You rest. I’m leaving!”

Tao Hui didn’t bother checking Han You’s expression. She’d already noticed the unnatural stiffness in her features.

No need for further questions or blunt words. Miao Miao had ended up in the hospital after drinking Han You’s coffee that day.

“Brother Han! Want some water?”

Tao Hui paused at Xu Chang’s voice, glancing at Han Buji, who was filming in the distance.

Look at that Best Actor, she thought. Tough as nails. Two cups of my coffee and not a scratch. Still swinging his sword like nothing happened.

Whether it was the exhaustion of maintaining her innocent “white lotus” persona or the lingering cold from the Imperial Capital’s recent days of relentless rain and plummeting temperatures, Tao Hui felt her fever returning during the next scene.

“Cut! Excellent! Moving on!” the assistant director shouted, clapping the clapperboard.

“Thank you all for your hard work!” Tao Hui bowed to the senior actors, grabbed her phone, and hurried toward her dressing room to find fever medication.

She had barely taken a few steps when the assistant director called out from behind.

“Tao Hui, reporters are here today. Everyone else has already been interviewed—just you and Xiao Han left. Go answer a few quick questions. It’ll help build buzz for Qing Wan’s official announcement in a couple of days!”

Tao Hui nodded, glanced at Han Buji still filming in the distance, and said to the assistant director, “I’ll go now.”

Dressed in a flowing white ancient-style gown, Tao Hui emerged from the film set to find several reporters standing with microphones. She waved apologetically. “Sorry for the wait! I just finished filming.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Tao Hui sat facing a round-faced young reporter. The reporter held up her microphone and asked, “Shall we begin?”

“Alright,” Tao Hui said.

“I heard you’re playing Qing Wan in the Sheng Jue production team, one of the few female characters in the series. What are your thoughts on her?” the round-faced reporter asked.

Tao Hui sat with elegant posture and replied with a smile, “Qing Wan is actually a very conflicted female assassin. She’s not someone who dares to love and hate openly; her affections are more restrained.”

“What kind of conflict does she face?” the reporter pressed.

“There’s a scene where Qing Wan loves tangerines. The Third Prince specially picks some for her, and she’s secretly delighted. But she scolds him for wasting his travel time, even though she secretly picks up the tangerines he throws away. It’s a classic case of ‘my mouth says no, but my actions say yes,'” Tao Hui explained with a laugh.

The reporter nodded. “So, a character like that must be quite challenging to portray?”

Tao Hui readily agreed. “It was for me. This was my first time playing such a role, and I had many retakes in the beginning. Fortunately, the director and screenwriter were patient. They explained the character to me whenever they had time, and I improved as we went along. I learned a lot.”

The serious interview continued for a few questions before the round-faced interviewer turned to exchange a glance with a skinny colleague beside her.

The look in her eyes clearly said, “We’re about to stir things up!”

“Tao Hui, do you think your personality is similar to Qing Wan’s? In real life, would you also be the type to act aloof while secretly liking someone?” The round-faced interviewer’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, her question dripping with gossip.

“I don’t have a crush on anyone right now, but I think I’m a pretty honest person,” Tao Hui replied with a smile. “If I like someone, I’ll say so. If I don’t, I’ll say that too. I’ll always follow my feelings. At least, that’s how I imagine I’d be.”

Tao Hui thought she had nothing to fear from such gossipy questions, since she had no real gossip to reveal.

But the round-faced interviewer wasn’t as innocent as she looked. She suddenly brought up Han Buji.

“Recently, there were rumors about you and Best Actor Han Buji. Now that you’re working together on the same production team, what’s your impression of Movie Emperor Han?” the reporter asked.

Holy shit, she’s asking me about Han Buji?

The moment Han Buji’s name was mentioned, Tao Hui’s entire body went on high alert.

What was her impression of him? A hot-tempered Chuan Yu man, weighed down by a ton of gentlemanly pretenses, a master of posturing, and someone who constantly lied to maintain his public image…

Suddenly, Tao Hui remembered the tube of burn cream she’d used up, the trending topic that had been taken down, the marketing accounts that had been paid to issue apologies, the white blanket scented with cedar and sandalwood, and the steaming bowl of red ginseng and wolfberry porridge and cold medicine he’d brought her late one night.

She opened her mouth, sighed, and admitted to herself that her recent impressions of Han Buji had been wavering.

She couldn’t exactly say anything bad about him.

Besides, she didn’t have the guts to criticize the Best Actor; she’d be drowned in the spit of Han Meimei’s fans.

Just three minutes ago, she’d been the honest one, declaring, “If you like someone, you like them; if you don’t, you don’t.” Now, she was eating her words.

Mentally erasing the past 45 seconds of resentment, she forced a “sincere” smile. “Teacher Han is a very kind person. Everyone on the production team loves him. He’s popular, a great actor, and I’ve learned so much from working with him.”

Phew, that should cover it, right?

Tao Hui, her mind racing from the interview, felt her headache intensify. She prayed for it to end quickly so she could take her fever reducer.

As soon as Tao Hui finished speaking, the round-faced reporter immediately made a request, “We’ve interviewed everyone else on the production team. The only one left is Movie Emperor Han. Could you call him and ask him to come over?”

Recently, entertainment shows and interviews had been popularizing this trend of calling celebrities live on air.

Not long ago, a 19-year-old rookie pop star was tricked by reporters into making a call, which led to the exposure of his relationship. This incident emboldened entertainment journalists, who eagerly adopted the “call a celebrity” tactic in hopes of digging up juicy gossip.

“Huh?” Tao Hui was momentarily stunned. She glanced down at her phone. “Me? Call him and ask him to come over?”

The round-faced reporter and her skinny partner nodded frantically.

If Zhou Xun were here, he would have immediately intervened. After all, a female celebrity having a male star’s phone number could easily be misinterpreted and sensationalized.

Zhou Xun wasn’t around, and Tao Hui’s feverish mind wasn’t working at full capacity. Hesitantly, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

She still had Han Buji’s number. After all, she’d paid 130,000 yuan for it back then, and she couldn’t bring herself to delete it. It had been quietly residing on her blacklist ever since.

However, everyone on the production team knew that Han Buji always left his phone in the dressing room during filming.

Tao Hui thought back to three years ago, when it had taken days for him to answer. Her feverish brain reasoned that there was no harm in calling—Han Buji wouldn’t pick up anyway.

Reassured by this thought, she calmly told the reporter, “Okay, just a moment.”

The round-faced reporter’s excitement flushed her cheeks, while the skinny one rubbed his hands together, eager to land a major scoop.

Oblivious to their reactions, Tao Hui removed Han Buji’s number from her blacklist and dialed.

“Ring—ring—ring—”

The phone rang several times, sounding like it was nowhere near him.

Tao Hui covered the microphone and explained to the two reporters, “Teacher Han is probably still filming. Everyone on the production team knows he always leaves his phone—”

As she spoke, her finger accidentally pressed the speakerphone button. The “beep” from the call echoed through the room, startling her.

Before the ringing could even finish, the call was suddenly answered.

After three years, Tao Hui heard that sexy, Chuan Yu-accented male voice again, “I’ll fuck your ancestors! You little bastard! I’ll beat the shit out of you…”

Her scalp tingled, and she hunched her shoulders, immediately turning off her phone.

Oh no! Han Buji’s public image is about to crumble because of me!

He’s going to strangle me with his tie…

Tao Hui closed her eyes briefly, then lifted her head with a resigned expression, exchanging terrified glances with the little round face and her skinny partner. Through chattering teeth, she squeezed out a feeble defense, “Um, I-I’m not actually close to Movie Emperor Han!”

Author’s Note:

Tao Hui: QAQ I’m going to be silenced!