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

Chapter 15

Tao Hui’s cold came on strong, 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 indomitable spirit had been forged in Tao Hui’s childhood.

Back then, the children at the orphanage spent their days playing together. In August, when the air hung thick and humid, the director would send the older kids to take the younger ones to play by the Beian River.

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

The other children, caught up in their games, went wild at the sight of the river. They plunged in like dumplings into boiling water, no one bothering to check if Tao Hui could swim.

A few kids even taunted her, laughing, “Tao Tao, come on in! Scaredy-cat! Still afraid of the water?”

Tao Hui refused to be defeated. Why should everyone else be able to do it while she couldn’t? Alone by the riverbank, she cautiously waded in, inch by inch. When she choked on the water, she collapsed on the shore, coughing until her lungs burned.

The mischievous children laughed at her from afar, but the more they mocked her, the more stubbornly she practiced, gritting her teeth and refusing to give up.

In her own words, “I must have swallowed half the Beian River before I finally learned to swim.”

Tao Hui was an optimist, able to brush off most troubles with a simple “rabbit fur meat, A-Zi, goose-take-marsh-day.” (tomorrow is another day)

The trending topics and Miao Miao’s hospitalization were, as Han Buji had said, “many coincidences that weren’t coincidences at all.” But the more people targeted her, the more determined she became to excel.

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

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

Tao Hui set down her script and smiled. “Things will calm down after these next few days. You came at the perfect time—this coffee is for you.”

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

“I never drink coffee.” Tao Hui pushed the paper cup toward Han You, looking her in the eye. “I added something special inside. You’ll definitely like it.”

Han You’s hand froze mid-reach, her fingertips trembling imperceptibly. She forced a bright, innocent smile. “Sister Tao Hui, I’m feeling a bit overheated right now. I’ll drink it later.”

“Either way is fine. I’m off to film my scene now.” Tao Hui stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. “You can drink it, or give it to your assistant. Just wondering if your assistant can handle it—she’s not quite like Miao Miao, you know.”

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

“Huh?” Tao Hui turned back, her face all innocence as she asked, “No meaning at all. I just added double the cream. Isn’t your assistant always complaining about dieting? She might find it too high in fat, right?”

“Miao Miao doesn’t care about that. She’ll eat anything, no matter how high the calories.” Tao Hui chuckled, waving her hand. “You rest up now. I’m off!”

Tao Hui didn’t bother looking back to see Han You’s reaction. She’d already caught all those subtle, unnatural expressions on Han You’s face.

No further questions were needed, nor did she need to spell it out. 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 toward Han Buji, who was filming in the distance.

Look at Best Actor Han—tough as nails! she thought. He drank two cups of my coffee and nothing happened. Still swinging his sword around like it’s nothing.

Whether it was the mental strain of playing the innocent “white lotus” character or the lingering cold from Beijing’s recent cold spell, Tao Hui felt a fever returning during the later scenes.

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

“Thank you, everyone, for your hard work!”

Tao Hui bowed to the senior actors, grabbed her phone, and hurried back to the break room to take some fever medicine.

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

“Tao Hui, reporters are here today. They’ve interviewed everyone except you and Xiao Han. Just answer a few simple 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 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 down opposite a round-faced young reporter. The reporter held up her microphone and said, “Shall we begin?”

“Alright,” Tao Hui said.

“I heard you’re playing Qing Wan in the production crew, one of the few female characters in Sheng Jue. What are your thoughts on this role?” Xiao Yuanlian asked.

Tao Hui sat with graceful poise, smiling as she replied, “Qing Wan is actually a very conflicted female assassin. She doesn’t dare to love or hate openly; her affections are more restrained.”

“What kind of conflict?” Xiao Yuanlian pressed.

“There’s a scene where Qing Wan loves tangerines, and the Third Prince goes out of his way to pick some for her. She’s secretly delighted, but she scolds him for wasting travel time, blah blah blah. When he throws them away, she secretly picks them back up. Classic ‘tsundere,’ right?” Tao Hui said with a laugh.

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

Tao Hui readily agreed. “It was a bit for me. This was my first time playing such a role, and I had many takes early on. Fortunately, the director and assistant director were patient, explaining the nuances to me whenever they had time. I improved as I went along, learning a lot in the process.”

After a few serious interview questions, Xiao Yuanlian, the round-faced interviewer, exchanged a knowing glance with a skinny girl beside her.

The look clearly telegraphed: “Time to stir things up!”

“Tao Hui, do you think your personality is similar to Qing Wan’s? In real life, would you be the type to act aloof while secretly liking someone?” Xiao Yuanlian’s eyes sparkled with mischief, her question thick 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 it. If I don’t, I won’t pretend otherwise. I’ll always follow my feelings. At least, that’s what I think I’d do.”

Tao Hui believed she had nothing to fear from such gossipy questions, since she had no scandals to uncover.

But Xiao Yuanlian wasn’t as innocent as her round face suggested. She unexpectedly brought up Han Buji.

“There were rumors about you and Best Actor Han Buji a while back. Now that you’re working together on the same production crew, what’s your impression of Best Actor Han?” Xiao Yuanlian asked.

Damn it, she’s bringing up Han Buji?

The mention of Han Buji immediately put Tao Hui on high alert.

What was her impression of Han Buji? A volatile Sichuan-Chongqing man, burdened by a ten-thousand-ton facade of gentlemanly manners, a master of pretense, and a habitual liar who constantly fabricated his public image…

Tao Hui suddenly recalled the tube of burn cream she had used up, the suppressed trending topic, the apology-buying marketing accounts, the white blanket scented with cedar and sandalwood, and the late-night delivery of steaming red ginseng and wolfberry porridge with cold medicine.

She opened her mouth, sighed, and admitted that her recent impression of Han Buji had wavered.

She couldn’t exactly say Han Buji was bad.

Besides, she didn’t have the courage to criticize the Best Actor; she’d be drowned in the spittle of Han Meimei and their fan group.

The honest person who had declared just three minutes ago, “If you like someone, you like them; if you don’t, you don’t,” was instantly exposed as a hypocrite.

Brainwashing herself to dismiss their previous 45-second feud, she forced a “sincere” smile. “Teacher Han is a very kind person. The production crew all adore him. He’s popular, a brilliant actor, and working with him has been incredibly beneficial for me.”

Phew, that should be a safe answer, right?

It was a stroke of desperate inspiration. Tao Hui, her mind racing, felt her headache intensify. She prayed the interview would end quickly so she could take fever-reducing medicine.

As soon as Tao Hui finished speaking, Xiao Yuanlian, the round-faced interviewer, immediately pounced with a request: “We’ve interviewed everyone else on the production crew except Best Actor Han. Could you call him and ask him to come over?”

Lately, entertainment programs and interviews had been trending with this “call someone” gimmick.

Just recently, a 19-year-old rookie singer was tricked by reporters into making a call that exposed his relationship. This incident emboldened entertainment journalists everywhere, who eagerly adopted the “call someone” tactic in hopes of digging up juicy gossip.

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

Xiao Yuanlian and her skinny partner, Xiao Shouhou, nodded frantically.

If Zhou Xun had been present, he would have immediately intervened. After all, a female celebrity having a male actor’s phone number could easily be twisted into a scandalous narrative.

But Zhou Xun wasn’t there, 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 had paid 130,000 yuan to get it back then, and she couldn’t bring herself to delete it. It had been quietly resting in Tao Hui’s blacklist ever since.

However, everyone on the production crew knew that Han Buji always left his phone in the break room while filming.

Tao Hui thought back to three years ago when it had taken several days for someone to answer her calls. Her feverish brain churned, and she figured it wouldn’t hurt to try anyway—Han Buji wouldn’t answer.

With that thought, she felt reassured and politely told the reporters, “Alright, just a moment.”

Hooked, Xiao Yuanlian’s round face flushed with excitement, while the skinny reporter rubbed his hands together, eager to land a major scoop.

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

“Beep—beep—beep—”

The phone rang several times, suggesting it wasn’t nearby.

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

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

Before the dial tone could finish, the call was suddenly answered.

After three years, Tao Hui heard that sexy, Sichuan-Chongqing-accented male voice again: “Fuck your immortal ancestors! You goddamn bastard! I’ll beat your…”

Tao Hui’s scalp tingled. She hunched her shoulders and immediately hung up.

Shit! Han Buji’s public image is about to collapse because of me!

He’s definitely going to strangle me with his tie…

Tao Hui closed her eyes, then lifted her head with a look of grim determination. She exchanged panicked glances with Xiao Yuanlian and Xiao Shouhou, then squeezed out a trembling, barely audible defense: “Um, I-I’m actually not very close to Best Actor Han!”