Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Han Buji’s status as the king of Han Meimeis wasn’t unfounded. While his acting skills played a part, his devastating handsomeness held the true advantage.

Especially when he looked at you with intense focus, it created an illusion that you were the only person in his world.

Once, a Han Meimei had uploaded a short video showing Han Buji signing his name on a camera lens for her. The ten-second clip captured his concentrated expression as he lowered his gaze to write, followed by a smile directed straight at the camera.

In those brief ten seconds, nine million out of ten million Han Meimeis fell under his spell. The comment section beneath the video resembled a groundhog colony, flooded with “ahh” and “wahh” cries.

When Han Buji leaned forward against the table, his arm propped up as he spoke to Tao Hui, she suddenly found herself unsure where to look. The tips of her ears tingled with warmth.

Finally, Tao Hui grabbed a box of red sugar pastries and turned her head toward the vase in the entryway, muttering softly, “Let’s eat. We should eat quickly. I’m starving… I want to eat…”

Tao Hui ate mechanically, mindlessly overindulging until her stomach bulged with red sugar pastries that made her feel even hotter.

Outside, the light snow had ceased. The branches now wore a gauzy veil of fresh snow, their delicate burden swaying in the still air.

After breakfast, Tao Hui lay on a recliner on the balcony, basking in the early sunlight. A cool breeze drifted through the half-open window, washing away the faint sense of unease in her heart.

“What’s with this? If you’re going to talk, just talk. Why be so serious?” Tao Hui fanned her cheeks with her hand. The soft gurgling of water boiling in the kitchen lulled her into sleep.

In her dream, Tao Hui was sixteen years old. She stood in a crowded ticket booth, having just exchanged her money for movie tickets. She held the tickets aloft, snapping a selfie with her phone. The background of the photo was the movie poster.

Han Buji’s new film, The Wandering Hunter.

The poster showed Han Buji wearing a fur vest, his muscular arms flexed in a way that made his veins pop. His face and skin were caked in a “dirty” makeup that made him look like he’d lived a rough life. His eyes were sharper than a leopard’s in the jungle, yet they also held a calmness that said, “Let him be strong, I’ll stand tall like a mountain.”

It was a look that had captivated Tao Hui for half a year.

The Wandering Hunter had no romance between men and women, and it wasn’t the kind of heroism that teenagers liked. At the time, this kind of realistic movie wasn’t something a sixteen-year-old girl would normally like. But when Tao Hui got tickets for the first screening, she was so happy she exploded. She even posted nine pictures.

In the photo, Xiao Taohui’s eyes shone as brightly as they would later at the 18-year-old film festival award ceremony, luminous like fireflies and stars.

Dreams differ from reality, magnifying details that might otherwise go unnoticed.

When the movie began, a man in a cap sat down beside Tao Hui. Dressed in a black coat, he remained nearly motionless throughout the film, his head leaning against the chairback as if asleep.

In reality, Tao Hui had no interaction with the man beside her. But in the dream, she kept turning to look at him repeatedly. Even when the film moved her to tears, she heard a soft chuckle from the man beside her.

When the movie ended, Tao Hui wiped smudged mascara from her lashes. The man beside her stood up, nodding slightly in her direction.

In the dim theater light, his straight nose and refined mouth seemed strangely familiar.

“Who are you?” Tao Hui asked.

The crowd suddenly vanished, the man disappeared too. The theater seats collapsed like a crumbling structure, red chairs disintegrating into fragments that scattered across the floor like crimson rose petals.

Tao Hui stood amidst the ruins and suddenly saw Han Buji’s smile. His phoenix eyes still gave off an illusion of deep affection, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly as he said, “I like seeing you so relaxed, Tao Hui.”

Tao Hui’s eyes flew open. She clutched her chest in the blinding midday sun, her heart pounding wildly.

The open window had been closed, and a cup of lemon water sat on the small table beside the rocking chair.

The lemon slices in the water were a beautiful shade of yellow. Tao Hui stared at the cup in a daze, feeling strange all day. Then she remembered Han Buji’s gaze…

She struggled to sit up, the thin blanket sliding off her legs. The familiar scent of cedarwood and sandalwood swept over her nose.

The heart-pounding feeling from the dream came back. Tao Hui didn’t know this feeling, and she could only sit dumbly in the rocking chair.

One day when she was 16, she had stayed up until 1 AM to buy the first tickets for his movie, and she had cried so much she was a mess.

If she hadn’t bought the wrong phone in that mix-up, and if Li Sijin hadn’t made that misunderstanding with his stream of curses, maybe she would still like watching Han Buji’s movies?

Would joining the same production team as him be really exciting?

Tao Hui rubbed her stiff neck, still slightly groggy from sleep. She suddenly realized she might have experienced the delayed thrill of “succeeding in chasing a star.” Otherwise, why would her heart race so fast just from dreaming about Han Buji?

Han Buji’s home was quiet, with the sounds of neighborhood children playing drifting through. A child’s voice called out, “Whoever sits on the seesaw with me gets spicy potato chips!”

These everyday sounds finally pulled Tao Hui out of her strange thoughts. She drank two sips of lemon water.

The faintly tart taste made her suddenly crave those spicy potato chips.

“Han Buji?” Tao Hui called softly, planning to ask him to go to the neighborhood store together.

When there was no response, Tao Hui decided to go upstairs. As she passed the living room, her sharp eyes noticed a small electronic device on the coffee table.

She’d seen this thing in Han Buji’s room before. The tiny buttons were labeled with phrases like “Sunshine Junior,” “World-weary Uncle,” and “Seductive Lolita.”

Tao Hui picked it up and looked at it for a few seconds. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

She seemed to have discovered one of Han Buji’s big secrets!

Han Buji, fearing he might disturb Tao Hui’s sleep, conducted a video conference with Wu Yue upstairs. Both men worked with a focus-oriented mindset, and their years of collaboration meant they could skip the small talk and dive straight into key points.

Yet Wu Yue finished his work report in just 15 minutes today, surprising Han Buji. “You’re unusually efficient today,” he remarked.

Wu Yue glanced at Han Buji, then closed the office door before turning to the camera with a mischievous grin. “I heard from Gao Meng that your ‘Rabbit’ is staying at your place now?”

Han Buji smiled. “Just temporarily.”

Wu Yue had initially dismissed Gao Meng’s account of the job interview. The boss asked about her favorite celebrity, she mentioned Tao Hui, and suddenly became the chief assistant. Did that prove the boss liked Tao Hui? Ridiculous!

At the time, Wu Yue had imagined countless scenarios: Han Buji might have valued Gao Meng’s straightforwardness, or perhaps appreciated her preference for female celebrities over himself. He might even have been impressed by her computer repair skills, which he’d heard about long ago.

The one thing he never believed was that Han Buji could actually like Tao Hui.

Preposterous! How many years had he been Han Buji’s manager? Tao Hui was certainly pretty, but she barely interacted with Han Buji at all.

When Tao Hui’s incident occurred a few years ago, the Boss never offered to remove the trending topics. Did he actually enjoy watching his fans harass her nearly to the point of self-harm?

Then one day, Wu Yue overheard Han Buji playing games with Tao Hui.

The President Han who appeared so gentlemanly and straightforward in public, now wearing a voice changer, was being boldly berated by Tao Hui. “Did you place your skills with your feet?” she’d ask. “The enemy’s pushed to your base—why are you still hunting? Do you have a grudge with the wild creatures?” She kept relentlessly roasting Han Buji…

Wu Yue was startled, thinking Tao Hui must be doomed.

Yet President Han’s smile never faded. Not only did he keep responding with “Mm-hmm,” but he wore an expression of pure indulgence.

Wu Yue finally realized: Gao Meng was right. President Han truly did like Tao Hui.

“What’s going on? Roommates? Gao Meng said you two were like dry firewood and blazing flames!” Wu Yue asked urgently, his eyes sparkling with gossip.

Han Buji smiled. “What, as a manager, aren’t you scared your artist’s romance might make fans unsubscribe?”

“Unafraid! Our Boss isn’t worried, so why should I be?” Wu Yue laughed. “If Unruly doesn’t collapse, everything else is trivial. So spill it—how far have you gone?”

Han Buji leaned back in his chair, pondering at his computer screen. Suddenly, he chuckled, “I’ve just become her big brother.”

“Pfft!” Wu Yue nearly spat out his coffee through the camera. He frantically wiped his mouth and the screen with two sheets of paper, then demanded incredulously, “Boss! Are you seriously pursuing her? Can’t you at least act serious about it? How did you end up becoming her big brother?”

Han Buji smiled, shaking his head helplessly. “It’s a gradual process.”

He’d always made decisive choices in life, but matters concerning Tao Hui left him uncertain. Overthinking it had made him unsure how to proceed.

“Pursuing someone is gradual? You’re joking, President Han! Don’t you know how many handsome young men are in the entertainment industry? Tao Hui’s beautiful and naive—what’ll you do if someone else snags her?” Wu Yue slammed his hand on the table twice, completely forgetting he was single himself. He launched into his “Teacher Wu’s Love Lecture,” chattering, “Besides, I saw how well you two chatted during gaming. Don’t tell me she’s into that voice changer type? Some younger guy? A Sunshine Junior?”

Han Buji remained silent, suddenly recalling Tao Hui’s morning remark: “Han Buji is nearly 30.”

“Han Buji?” Tao Hui’s voice suddenly called from outside the door.

Wu Yue reluctantly closed his mouth, swallowing the stream of complaints he’d been about to voice, and decisively ended the video call.

Han Buji swiveled his chair to face the door. “Tao Hui, come in.”

A small head immediately poked through the gap in the door. Tao Hui clung to the crack as she asked, “You said yesterday you wanted to improve our relationship, right?”

“Hm?” Han Buji nodded, not quite following. “What about it?”

Tao Hui’s face turned serious. “If you want to improve a relationship, you can’t lie to the other person, can you?”

Han Buji smiled. “Right.”

“Han Buji, why do you have this thing?” Tao Hui pushed the door open, holding a white earbud connected to a long black rectangular device. “This… is a voice changer, isn’t it?”

Han Buji seemed slightly surprised, his eyebrows lifting. “What do you want to ask?”

Ask away. Ask and I’ll tell you everything.

Wu Yue wasn’t entirely wrong. When it came to pursuing someone, there was no need to take things slow.

Tao Hui walked up to Han Buji, clutching the voice changer, and looked down at him. “Han Buji, I have a question for you.”

“Ask away,” Han Buji said, his arms propped on his knees as he looked up at Tao Hui, mentally preparing to spill everything.

Tao Hui planted her hands on her hips. “Tell me, do you often trick people into sleeping with you online?!”

Author’s Note:

Han Buji: ? Say that again?