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

Chapter 27

Han Buji’s immense popularity with millions of Han Meimei fans wasn’t without reason. His exceptional acting skills were one factor, but his striking good looks gave him an undeniable advantage.

Especially when he looked at you intently, it created the illusion that you were the only person in his world.

Once, a Han Meimei fan uploaded a short video showing Han Buji signing an autograph on her camera lens.

The video was only ten seconds long, capturing Han Buji’s focused gaze as he signed, followed by a brief, dazzling smile at the camera.

In those mere ten seconds, 9,999,000 out of 10,000,000 Han Meimei fans were utterly captivated. The comment section beneath the video erupted into a frenzy, resembling a prairie dog colony with nothing but “Aaaaaahhhhh!”

So when Han Buji leaned across the table, propping himself up with one arm, and spoke to Tao Hui, she suddenly found herself unsure where to look, her earlobes tingling faintly.

Finally, Tao Hui grabbed a box of brown sugar pastries, turned her head to gaze at the vase by the entryway, and muttered softly, “Let’s eat. Let’s eat quickly. I’m starving. I want to eat…”

Tao Hui ate without tasting anything, unconsciously stuffing herself until she was full. The sugary filling only made her feel even hotter.

Outside, the light snow had stopped, leaving a thin layer of snowflakes on the branches like a delicate veil.

After breakfast, Tao Hui reclined on a lounge chair on the balcony, basking in the early morning sunshine. A gentle breeze drifted through the half-open window, easing the faint unease in her heart.

“What’s with all the formality? Just say what you need to say,” Tao Hui muttered, fanning her cheeks with her hand. Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep, lulled by the soft gurgling of water boiling in the kitchen.

In her dream, Tao Hui was sixteen again, standing in a crowded ticket hall, exchanging her voucher for a movie ticket. She excitedly waved the ticket and took a selfie, the film’s poster serving as the backdrop.

Han Buji’s newly released film, The Wandering Hunter.

On the poster, Han Buji wore a fur vest, his bare arms revealing smooth, sculpted muscles. His face and skin were made up to look weathered and rugged, his eyes sharper than a jungle leopard’s, yet imbued with a serene detachment: Let him be strong, the mountain breeze remains unyielding.

That gaze had captivated Tao Hui for half a year.

The Wandering Hunter contained no romantic subplot nor any juvenile heroics. At the time, such realistic films were not typically to the taste of sixteen-year-old girls. Yet Tao Hui had managed to snag tickets to the premiere and was ecstatic, posting nine photos in a row to celebrate.

In the photo, Little Tao Hui’s eyes shone as brightly as they would when she won an award at the film festival at age 18—like fireflies, like stars.

Dreams, unlike reality, amplify details we overlook in waking life.

As the film began, a man in a baseball cap sat down next to Tao Hui. He wore a black coat and remained almost motionless throughout the movie, his head resting against the seat back as if he were asleep.

In reality, Tao Hui had no interaction with the man beside her. But in the dream, she found herself turning to look at him repeatedly. Even as she wiped away tears moved by the film, she heard a soft chuckle from his direction.

When the credits rolled, Tao Hui dabbed at her smudged mascara with a tissue. The man rose and seemed to nod slightly in her direction.

In the dim theater light, his sharp nose and refined lips looked strangely familiar.

“Who are you?” Tao Hui asked.

The crowd vanished abruptly, and the man disappeared as well. The theater seats seemed to collapse, the red chairs shattering into fragments like fallen rose petals scattered across the floor.

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

Tao Hui’s eyes snapped open. In the blinding midday sun, she clutched her chest, her heart pounding wildly.

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

The lemon slices in the water were a vibrant yellow. Tao Hui stared blankly at the glass, feeling strangely off today. Then she remembered Han Buji’s gaze…

She struggled to sit up, the thin blanket draped over her sliding down to her lap. The familiar scent of cedar and sandalwood brushed past her nose.

The heart-pounding sensation from her dream returned with full force. This feeling was unfamiliar to Tao Hui, leaving her sitting blankly in the rocking chair.

She recalled the night she stayed up until 1 a.m. to snag premiere tickets the moment they went on sale, and the tears she’d shed, moved to tears by Han Buji’s performance.

If not for the mix-up with the wrong phone number and Li Sijin’s string of angry curses, would she still enjoy watching Han Buji’s movies?

Would joining a production crew with him be thrilling?

Tao Hui rubbed her stiff neck, still groggy from sleep. She wondered if she was experiencing a delayed reaction to “successfully chasing her idol.” Otherwise, why would her heart race so wildly just from dreaming about Han Buji?

Han Buji’s apartment was quiet, allowing her to hear the sounds of children playing in the courtyard. She could even make out a child’s boastful shout: “Whoever sits on the seesaw with me gets spicy potato chips!”

These everyday sounds finally pulled Tao Hui out of her dazed state. She took a few sips of lemon water.

The tangy flavor suddenly made her crave spicy potato chips.

“Han Buji?” Tao Hui called out softly, intending to suggest a trip to the neighborhood convenience store.

Receiving no response, she got up and went upstairs to find him. As she passed the living room, her sharp eyes spotted a small electronic device on the coffee table.

She had seen this gadget in Han Buji’s room recently. Its tiny buttons were labeled with phrases like “Sunshine Junior,” “Weathered Uncle,” and “Sexy Lolita.”

Tao Hui picked it up and examined it for a few seconds before her eyes widened in shock.

She seemed to have stumbled upon a shocking secret of Han Buji’s!

Afraid of disturbing Tao Hui’s sleep, Han Buji held a video conference with Wu Yue upstairs. Both men were focused and efficient, their years of collaboration allowing them to communicate key points without unnecessary elaboration.

But Wu Yue was unusually quick today, finishing his work report in just fifteen minutes. Han Buji was surprised. “You’re remarkably efficient today.”

Wu Yue glanced at Han Buji, got up to close the office door, and grinned mischievously at the camera. “I heard from Gao Meng that your ‘Rabbit’ has moved into your place?”

Han Buji smiled faintly. “She’s just staying temporarily.”

Wu Yue hadn’t fully believed Gao Meng’s account of her job interview. The boss asked who your favorite celebrity was, you said Tao Hui, and suddenly you’re his top assistant? Does that prove he likes Tao Hui? How naive!

At the time, Wu Yue had considered countless possibilities: Han Buji might have been drawn to Gao Meng’s sincerity, or perhaps he appreciated her preference for female celebrities over himself. He even suspected Han Buji might have known about Gao Meng’s computer repair skills beforehand.

But he refused to believe Han Buji could possibly be interested in Tao Hui.

Seriously? Wu Yue had been Han Buji’s manager for years. Tao Hui was undeniably beautiful, but she and Han Buji had barely any interaction.

When Tao Hui got into trouble a few years ago, the Boss didn’t even try to get the trending topics removed. Does he really enjoy watching his fans tear people apart until they’re practically suicidal?

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

President Han, who always appeared so gentlemanly and composed in public, was using a voice changer while Tao Hui relentlessly taunted him: “Are you using your feet to cast spells?” “Why are you still farming jungle creeps when the lane’s been pushed to our base? Do you have some ancient grudge against those monsters?” She fearlessly berated him for ages.

Wu Yue was stunned, thinking Tao Hui was surely doomed.

But President Han’s lips remained curved in a smile the entire time, not only responding with “mm-hmm” but also wearing an utterly doting expression.

Wu Yue finally realized Gao Meng was right: President Han really did have feelings for Tao Hui.

“What’s going on? Just staying over? Gao Meng said things were getting intense! Like dry wood meeting a raging fire!” Wu Yue asked urgently, his eyes gleaming with gossip.

Han Buji chuckled. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you worried about your artists dating and losing fans?”

“Nah, not at all! If our Boss isn’t worried, why should I be?” Wu Yue grinned. “As long as Unruly Entertainment doesn’t collapse, everything else is small potatoes. So, spill the beans—how far have things gone?”

Han Buji leaned back in his chair, staring at the computer screen. Suddenly, he chuckled, “Just got promoted to ‘bro’.”

Pfft! Wu Yue spat a mouthful of coffee across the camera, scrambling for tissues to wipe his mouth and the screen. “Boss! Are you even trying to win her over? Can’t you take this seriously? How did you end up as just her ‘bro’?”

Han Buji smiled, shaking his head with a hint of helplessness. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Having always made decisive decisions in his life, he found himself uncertain when it came to Tao Hui. His intense feelings for her made him second-guess every move, unsure what the “right” approach should be.

“Slow and steady? Are you kidding me, President Han? Don’t you know how many handsome young guys are in the entertainment industry? Tao Hui’s pretty and a bit naive—what if someone else sweeps her off her feet? What’ll you do then?” Wu Yue slammed his hands on the table, completely forgetting he was also a single dog. He launched into “Teacher Wu’s Love Lecture”: “Besides, she seemed to be chatting really well with you during the game. Could she be into guys who use voice changers? Younger guys? A ‘puppy’ junior?”

Han Buji remained silent, suddenly recalling Tao Hui’s words from earlier that morning: “Han Buji’s almost 30 already.”

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

Wu Yue reluctantly shut his mouth, swallowing the grumbling he was about to voice, and promptly ended the video call.

Han Buji swiveled his chair to face the door. “Tao Hui, over here.”

A small head peeked through the slightly ajar door. Tao Hui gripped the edge, asking, “Yesterday, you said you wanted to improve our relationship, right?”

“Hmm?” Han Buji nodded, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

Tao Hui’s expression turned serious. “If we’re improving our relationship, we can’t lie to each other, right?”

Han Buji chuckled. “Right.”

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

Han Buji seemed slightly surprised, raising an eyebrow. “What do you want to ask?”

Go ahead, ask. I’ll tell you everything.

Wu Yue had a point. When pursuing someone, there’s no time for slow and steady.

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

“Ask,” Han Buji said, propping his elbow on his knee and looking up at Tao Hui, mentally preparing to spill everything.

Tao Hui crossed her arms. “Tell me, have you been hooking up with people online?!”