Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Tao Hui had been trending frequently lately, riding a wave of popularity. The production crew’s publicity team seized the opportunity, releasing edited clips and GIFs of her scenes from Sheng Jue over several days to capitalize on her rising fame.

Sheng Jue, a grand historical drama centered on political intrigue, featured three male leads. Even Han Buji, who played the Third Prince, only had a guest role that ended with his character’s death after just a few episodes, let alone Tao Hui.

Perhaps because Qing Wan, Tao Hui’s character, was portrayed as aloof and alluring in the original novel, and was one of the few characters in this historical drama with romantic subplots, her scenes—though relatively few—became one of the most anticipated aspects of the series among online fans.

For the first two days, Tao Hui felt quite anxious, fearing that fans of the original novel would criticize her performance. To her surprise, the fans’ praise exceeded all expectations, even subtly surpassing the acclaim Han Buji received for his portrayal of Dongchuan.

As anticipation for Qing Wan’s scenes reached its peak, filming began to wrap up. Tao Hui’s days grew increasingly hectic, leaving her with even less time to play games with her Little Fanboy.

One rare day, Tao Hui finished work early and returned to her hotel room, where she picked up her phone and played a few rounds of games with Little Fanboy.

She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Little Fanboy’s gaming skills. It seemed like he had… regressed after just a few days of not playing?

After losing seven consecutive matches, Tao Hui grew increasingly agitated. She called Little Fanboy on WeChat voice chat and couldn’t help but slip into her “Teacher Tao” persona, unleashing a torrent of sharp-tongued criticism through her headset microphone:

“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you see Sun Wukong coming? Are you moving with your feet? I could probably walk on my hands upside down better than that!”

“Seriously, are you even playing? Anyone watching would think you’re sleepwalking!”

“Look, ladies and gentlemen, and battle investors! He’s using his prosthetic arm again! You wield that sword like it’s a noodle-slicing knife from a ramen shop!”

The older Tao Hui got, the fiercer her temper became. The Little Fanboy across from her seemed terrified by her intensity and remained silent throughout their gaming session.

The next day on set, Tao Hui hadn’t forgotten the humiliation of her twelve consecutive losses the previous night. Even her morning walk had a fiery edge.

The scene being filmed that day depicted Dongchuan’s disappearance within the Xixiang Kingdom. Qing Wan frantically searched for him, eventually learning that he had been captured by the Xixiang Crown Prince.

Clutching her white jade sword, Tao Hui radiated an aura of unstoppable fury, as if she would slay gods and demons alike. Suspended by wires, she soared into the Xixiang Imperial Palace, silently cutting down enemies in her path, leaving a river of blood in her wake.

“Cut!” the script supervisor called out. “Perfect!”

Applause erupted across the set. Tao Hui had nailed the scene in a single take.

Tao Hui turned her head, her eyes bloodshot, startling the assistant director. He chuckled, “So immersed in the role, huh? Take a break, touch up your makeup. That was an incredible performance!”

Only then did Tao Hui release her fierce energy, collapsing limply into a chair and hugging the backrest as the makeup artist tended to her.

Thanks to the Little Fanboy’s hilariously terrible gaming skills and his mind-numbingly inept plays that seemed to be conceived with his toenails, Tao Hui, who had been worried about handling today’s two scenes, had now effortlessly nailed one in her fiery state.

The next scene was emotionally complex. Qing Wan stormed into the Xixiang Imperial Palace only to discover that Dongchuan had long been dead. He had been poisoned by the Xixiang Crown Prince and ultimately met his end riddled with arrows.

The Xixiang Crown Prince was a ruthless and twisted psychopath. He had Dongchuan’s corpse transported back to the palace and placed in an ice chamber to prevent decay. He even planned to send Dongchuan’s body back to the Dong’ao Kingdom before the impending war between the two nations, hoping to provoke the Dong’ao royal family and shatter their psychological defenses.

Unaware of this, Qing Wan fought her way through the palace to a secret chamber. There, she saw Dongchuan standing with his back to her. Ignoring her own bloodied state, she exclaimed in joyful surprise, “Dongchuan! I’ve finally found you!”

In that moment, despite being covered in blood, Qing Wan’s eyes shone with the innocent delight of a young girl.

But Dongchuan, still facing away, offered no response.

Sensing something amiss, Qing Wan frowned and cautiously approached. She gently touched Dongchuan’s shoulder, only to find his body ice-cold and devoid of any vital signs.

Qing Wan stood frozen before Dongchuan, her mind flooded with memories of him in the peach blossom grove.

Back then, he had been full of youthful vigor, his hands clasped behind his back as he smiled and said, “Qing Wan, I have feelings for you. But with the current turmoil in the realm, as a prince, I must prioritize the nation’s affairs. Once my brother and I unite the land, I will come to marry you as my wife. Would you accept?”

That day, Dongchuan’s eyes seemed to hold the stars themselves, his smile radiant with youthful splendor.

Qing Wan gazed at the man before her, his eyes tightly shut. A layer of frost seemed to cling to his body, his face pale, his hands clenched tightly against his chest. She pried open his fingers, and a peach blossom encased in ice fell from his grasp.

As the blossom fell, so did Qing Wan’s tears.

The scraping of protective armor against the secret chamber’s window, the heavy footsteps of approaching soldiers—none of it mattered to Qing Wan. With one hand gripping the bloodstained white jade sword and the other gently caressing Dongchuan’s cheek, she whispered, “Dongchuan, you must keep your promise. I…”

Snap!

“Tao Hui! Re-establish the emotion! This is a scene of grief and fury combined. Your hand on Dongchuan’s face should be a caress, not an attempt to strangle him!” Director Chen roared.

“Good!” Tao Hui startled, withdrawing her fingertips from Han Buji’s face. “Sorry, Director,” she said sheepishly. “I’ll get back into character.”

Director Chen took a sip of tea and boomed, “And your blocking! What direction were you facing? You completely blocked the camera! Is that how we rehearsed it?”

“Ah! I… I understand,” Tao Hui said, scratching her head. She glanced back at the cameraman and said apologetically, “Sorry, sorry, my mistake.”

Director Chen remained unsatisfied, pointing at the sword in her hand. “And your sword! You’re an assassin! No matter the situation, you need to grip that blade firmly!”

“Yes, yes, thank you for the guidance, Director,” Tao Hui nodded obediently, like a well-behaved child.

Director Chen’s shouting had silenced the set, leaving the crew in an awkward silence.

Suddenly, Han Buji, who had been playing dead, opened his eyes. In a voice only the two of them could hear, he murmured, “Are you walking with your feet? I could probably do better walking on my hands while upside down.”

Tao Hui: “?”

Han Buji seemed to be in a good mood, a slight smile curving his lips. “Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were sleepwalking. And that sword in your hand? You wield it worse than a noodle-slicing knife at a noodle shop.”

Tao Hui stared at him, utterly bewildered.

Wait, why does this sound so familiar?

Didn’t I say all this to Little Fanboy last night?

Completely baffled, Tao Hui could only draw one conclusion. She stared at Han Buji in disbelief. “You… you were eavesdropping on my conversation?”

Han Buji raised an eyebrow. “I just happened to overhear.”

“Impossible! You live on the eighth floor! How could you ‘happen to overhear’ from two floors away?” Tao Hui’s wits were sharp today, and she bravely confronted the Best Actor. “Besides, I was gaming until midnight yesterday. Don’t you think it’s incredibly creepy to be lurking outside a woman’s door, listening to her conversations?”

Perhaps she’d grown too comfortable with Han Buji lately. After stealing her apple last time, the shameless Best Actor Han had also mooched her water, hot water bottle, blanket, gummies, and milk tea.

Over time, they’d rehearsed lines together, chatted casually, and even complained together about Director Chen’s increasingly volatile temper, wondering if it was due to menopause.

“Your voice carries quite well,” Han Buji said with a smile, his expression unchanged. “I could hear you clearly from the hallway.”

“No way!” Tao Hui exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Though she denied it aloud, Tao Hui secretly believed Han Buji’s words. Yesterday’s gaming session with Little Fanboy had left her with a throbbing headache from anger, making it entirely possible she’d lost control of her volume. Besides, the hotel wasn’t exactly soundproof.

“Action! What are you two whispering about over there?” Director Chen roared, his hands on his hips, his temper flaring even more than usual today.

The surrounding crew members chuckled, while Tao Hui’s ears flushed crimson at being accused of whispering with Han Buji. In a sudden burst of defiance, she shouted back, “We’re coming! We weren’t whispering!”

Tao Hui had always maintained a demure, obedient demeanor around her elders, her voice soft and gentle, usually laced with a hint of a smile. Her sudden outburst startled Director Chen so badly he nearly dropped his teacup.

Director Chen stared at her speechlessly for a long moment, while the crew erupted in laughter. Even Han Buji’s lips twitched into a slight smile.

Feeling utterly humiliated, Director Chen muttered, “I must have caught your temper.”

After the commotion subsided, the production crew resumed filming.

Click!

Qing Wan gently stroked Dongchuan’s face, her voice trembling slightly. “Dongchuan, you must keep your promise. Today, I will cleanse the Xixiang Imperial Palace with blood. Once I’ve avenged our enemies, we’ll marry in the Hall of the King of Hell!”

As she finished speaking, the secret chamber door burst open. The Xixiang Crown Prince led his troops to surround Qing Wan.

She glanced down at the blood-stained white jade sword in her hand and switched it to her left hand.

Left-handed swordsmanship was Dongchuan’s specialty. Qing Wan suddenly lifted her head, her eyes blazing with icy resolve. She smiled brilliantly at the endless ranks of soldiers before her. “Dongchuan, look! So many people want to attend our wedding!”

With that, Qing Wan charged into the enemy ranks, her sword aimed directly at the Xixiang Crown Prince.

Click! Perfect! the assistant director exclaimed excitedly.

Tao Hui lowered the prop sword, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

She had become too immersed in the role, leaving her feeling a pang of sadness.

“That’s a wrap! That’s a wrap!” the crew shouted joyfully, oblivious to Tao Hui’s emotions. “See you tomorrow, Tao Hui!”

Tao Hui nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hui-ah!” Zhou Xun called out, arriving with Miao Miao, Gao Meng, and Wu Yue in tow.

Tao Hui was still puzzling over this bizarre group when Zhou Xun cheerfully announced, “Today’s on me! Let’s take the Best Actor’s team out for dinner. Miao Miao and I were away recently, and they really took good care of you. We should thank them properly.”

“Ah?” Tao Hui wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes, her sadness vanishing completely. She turned to Han Buji, her eyes filled with desperate hope that he would say he was busy.

After seeing Han Buji at work and in the hotel every day, Tao Hui genuinely didn’t want to spend even dinner with him. Besides, she was itching to get back and play King’s Canyon with Little Fanboy—she still needed to redeem herself after yesterday’s humiliating twelve-game losing streak!

Meeting Tao Hui’s pleading gaze—You’re busy today, right? You must be busy today!—Han Buji smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’m very, very free today.”

“Oh, of course you are! I already discussed it with Wu Yue. Best Actor Han and you don’t have any scenes tomorrow morning, so it’s perfect! We’ll have plenty of time to chat,” Zhou Xun clapped his hands with delight.

Tao Hui glanced at Zhou Xun. “Have you forgotten? When I joined the production crew, you warned me, ‘Treasure your life, stay away from the Best Actor!'”

Miao Miao, linking arms with Gao Meng, chimed in cheerfully, “Exactly! And we can eat more! I picked this restaurant, so you have to eat your fill, sis! Their steamed sea bass is incredibly fresh!”

Tao Hui turned to Miao Miao. “Weren’t you the one who said, ‘Unsolicited kindness always hides ulterior motives’? How did a stack of Han Buji’s signed photos suddenly make you call me ‘sis’?”

Tao Hui watched the group celebrating like it was New Year’s, her expression blank, and sighed inwardly.

When did this happen? she wondered. Not only have I grown closer to Han Buji, but even my manager and assistant have become friendly with his manager and assistant.

Seizing a moment when the others weren’t paying attention, Tao Hui casually walked over and nudged Han Buji with her elbow. “Let’s go. I really appreciate your help these past few weeks. I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Wu Yue circled the drinks table, then turned to Gao Meng. “Are you sure President Han wants to drink today? He hasn’t touched alcohol in over a year.”

Gao Meng picked up a bottle of 52-proof baijiu and nodded firmly. “I’m certain.”

“I always feel like there’s something between you and President Han that I don’t know about,” Wu Yue said, stroking his chin suspiciously. “Why do I feel like I’ve been excluded lately? Gao Meng, are you really not related to President Han?”

Gao Meng smiled, glanced around, and leaned in to whisper, “During my interview, President Han only asked me one question. Do you know what it was?”

Wu Yue shook his head.

The entire Unruly Entertainment was curious about how Gao Meng had become President Han’s top assistant. Rumor had it that President Han hadn’t even looked at her resume and hired her after asking just one question.

Clutching the bottle of baijiu, Gao Meng said mysteriously, “President Han asked me who my favorite female celebrity was.”

“Huh?” Wu Yue was completely baffled, unable to understand why Han Buji, who seemed utterly devoid of any interest in gossip, would ask such a question.

“I said it was Tao Hui,” Gao Meng replied.