Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 32

Chapter 32

It was late December, and the streets were already decked out with lanterns and colorful decorations in anticipation of the New Year. Even the roadside trees were adorned with large and small, multicolored light bulbs.

Yet none of this festive cheer could lift Tao Hui’s spirits. She walked with her head bowed, her gaze vacant, lost in a daze.

Her mind was in utter chaos, a cosmic, unparalleled mess.

This state persisted for half an hour after she entered her apartment. Then, as if jolted awake from a dream, Tao Hui suddenly leaped up from the sofa.

She had never been good at handling situations like this: her conversations with Little Fanboy while gaming, the long necklace she had tossed to Han Buji, the Cheng Family’s Miss who had impersonated a reporter, the elevator showdown…

Everything crashed against her eardrums like crashing waves, a cacophony of noise.

How had Han Buji become the Little Fanboy who called her every day?

How could that aloof, deep-eyed man be the same person as her sunny, puppy-like Little Fanboy?

Standing in the unlit living room, Tao Hui stared blankly ahead. After a long moment, she grabbed a pen from the coffee table and twisted her hair into a bun.

In truth, Tao Hui was utterly clueless about how to handle this situation. Even now, she remained completely bewildered.

When Tao Hui suffered a career setback at 18, facing a tidal wave of online criticism, she mechanically ate and drank as usual, her mind a tangled mess unable to grasp what was happening.

Then her assistant quit. Zhou Xun bought her a mountain of comfort food and tried to console her. Only then did Tao Hui finally break down, weeping with earth-shattering sobs that drove her upstairs neighbors to pack up and move out before dawn the next day.

Tao Hui was the type with a delayed reaction. By the time the anti-fans online had run out of insults, she was only just beginning to feel the pain.

This time was no different. After shaking off Han Buji’s grip and riding home in a daze, Tao Hui remained expressionless, still unable to process the night’s events. She was trapped in a bewildered state, a chaotic mix of confusion, shock, anger, and disappointment.

At 18, Tao Hui had bounced back quickly from her career setback. Optimism played a part, but her main motivation had been her urgent need to apologize to Han Buji and her anger over his perceived character flaws—his alleged publicity stunts and volatile temper.

This time, she couldn’t find anything to anchor her. Nor could she understand why such a minor incident was causing her more distress than her career crisis had.

Tao Hui pressed her thumb against her temple and rummaged through the kitchen cabinet until she found a bottle of red wine.

One woman, drunk on wine!

Rabbit fur me, A-Zi, and goose-take-marsh day! (Tomorrow is another day!)

She twisted the corkscrew into the wine’s cork and slowly pulled it out with a pop, releasing the rich aroma. She lifted the bottle and took a long swig.

As the wine warmed her throat, a gentle knock echoed through the quiet apartment: tap, tap, tap.

Though soft, the sound was unmistakable in the stillness.

Tao Hui’s hand froze mid-raise. Gathering the long train of her evening gown, she padded barefoot through the kitchen and living room, her steps light as she approached the security door and stood motionless.

She didn’t need to look to know who was outside. Her dilemma lay in how to face him.

Should she greet Han Buji’s face with a casual, “Hey, Little Fanboy?”

The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on the winter-bare branches. The cold wind howled outside, but Tao Hui, her back to the window, saw her shadow stretch across the door.

A soft sigh drifted from the other side.

Tao Hui’s heart clenched. In that instant, she remembered the day she’d overheard Han Buji and Wu Yue whispering in the hallway—Han Buji’s tender, helpless gaze fixed on her door.

“Tao Hui, let’s talk,” Han Buji’s voice drifted through the door, light as a feather.

He only said “let’s talk,” not “open the door.” So they’d talk through the door.

Tao Hui didn’t respond. She hugged the wine bottle and slowly sank to the floor. The wooden wall panel, warmed by the underfloor heating, was just right. She took another sip of wine and leaned against the door.

Her backless dress left her bare skin pressed against the cool door. Tao Hui tilted her head, feigning rapt attention.

Han Buji had once played a character in a film—a deeply devoted lover. His cautious yet earnest way of explaining himself to his girlfriend, appearing like a desperate simp but acting like a true gentleman, was the epitome of the perfect boyfriend.

That apology scene in the movie was the ultimate ideal for millions of Han Meimeis seeking a partner.

Tao Hui herself would watch it several times before bed, sometimes even indulging in… unspeakable dreams.

The thought finally roused a flicker of interest in Tao Hui’s muddled mind. She waited for Han Buji’s heartfelt explanation.

Tao Hui had already decided: no matter what he said, she’d pretend not to hear. If he asked about it tomorrow, she’d simply say she wasn’t home—after all, her lights were off.

Lost in these thoughts, Tao Hui failed to notice her mood lifting. She even began plotting how to mess with Han Buji.

As Tao Hui leaned against the door, Han Buji, as if he had X-ray vision, suddenly spoke from outside: “I’m sorry.”

Tao Hui choked on her wine.

Wait, what about the explanation? What about being careful and sincere? What about pretending to be a simp but actually being a gentleman?

Just three words?

Tao Hui covered her mouth, desperately trying not to cough. A small stream of red wine dribbled from the corner of her mouth, down her palm, and onto her chest.

“Tao Hui? Are you alright?” Han Buji asked solicitously from outside.

“I’m not alright! I almost choked to death!” Tao Hui couldn’t help but shout. “Explain yourself first! What’s with that necklace? How did you suddenly become my little fanboy?!”

The thought still infuriated her.

You damn liar! Give me back my sunny, gentle little puppy!

There was a rustling sound outside, and a piece of paper was slipped under the door.

Tao Hui stared blankly for a moment before picking it up. Her anger flared instantly. “Han Buji, are you crazy?! I’m not Han Meimei! What good is a signed photo to me?!”

In the moonlight, she could barely make out Han Buji’s features in the photo. It seemed to be from his magician-themed magazine shoot last year, showing his hand, gloved in a gesture of confession, with a plump white dove perched on it.

Tao Hui had seen this photo before. She remembered Han Buji wearing colored contacts, his eyes a striking amber hue with white and green undertones, giving him an exotic and handsome look.

At the time, Tao Hui had been leisurely gnawing on a chicken claw while strolling down a shady path in her neighborhood. Flipping through a magazine, she happened upon this photo spread. She froze for a moment, then nonchalantly tore out the page. Plop! A chicken bone landed squarely on “Han Buji’s” nose.

That day, she had also encountered a stray dog. Moved by compassion, Tao Hui fed the dog all the chicken bones and even gave it a nickname: “Xiao Buji” (Little Buji).

Now, clutching the crumpled paper in anger, she heard Han Buji’s laughter from outside the door. “It’s for you to draw turtles on,” he said. “Go wild! I’ll even frame it for you when you’re done.” (t/n: turtle also means bastard)

Tao Hui remained silent, her grip tightening on the paper.

Her alcohol-soaked brain felt sluggish, yet she couldn’t help but marvel at Han Buji’s enigmatic nature. After only seeing her draw turtles on his photos twice, he had already concluded it was her habit.

Could her practiced hand movements while drawing turtles have betrayed her?

Another piece of paper soon slipped under the door. Tao Hui picked it up and saw that Han Buji had drawn an enormous turtle on his own photo.

How big was it?

The turtle’s head reached Han Buji’s hairline, its tail poked his chin, and its massive body boldly covered his entire face.

Tao Hui: “……”

Han Buji said, “I’ll keep drawing them for you until you calm down.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a steady stream of photos of Han Buji began pouring through the door crack, each one featuring an arrogant giant turtle sprawled across his face. The pace was rapid, almost one after another.

Under the moonlight, Tao Hui found herself surrounded by over a dozen photos of Han Buji, each adorned with a giant turtle.

“Tao Hui, calm down. I wasn’t lying about the necklace—a friend really made it,” Han Buji said, shoving another freshly drawn turtle through the crack.

It seemed no one had ever indulged her like this before. The red wine wasn’t particularly strong, but after several large gulps, she felt a bit tipsy. Hearing Han Buji’s gentle voice, a tear plopped onto one of the turtles.

She sniffled and mumbled, “Stop drawing. Why do your turtles look even more arrogant than mine?!”

Women, especially crying women, rarely operate on logic.

Han Buji didn’t get angry. He comforted her through the door, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s my fault. I deliberately added you to the game. I should have told you sooner.”

He chuckled self-deprecatingly and continued, “But you were so wary of me back then. I was afraid that if I told you, you’d ignore me even more. Tao Hui, I really don’t know what to do with you. It feels like everything I do is wrong.”

His tone was so doting, even more affectionate than in that movie.

Wait, just because I’m good at gaming, the Best Actor wants to get closer to me?

I’m! So! Awesome!

Tao Hui immediately cheered up, wiping away her tears and preparing to say something when her phone lit up beside her.

She had silenced her phone during the gala, and now Zhou Xun’s name was flashing on the screen.

She answered absently, holding the phone to her ear, but Zhou Xun’s words were just background noise. Her entire focus was on Han Buji’s voice.

Tell me more, tell me more! Tell me how much you admire me, the gaming goddess!

Han Buji said, “…I learned about your gaming skills from your former assistant. She told me you were amazing at games and even sold me your account. It seems we were destined to meet. I spent 130,000 yuan to buy your account, and moving across the street to be your neighbor was also intentional.”

“Tao Hui, I never meant to deceive you. My desire to be part of your life is genuine, and my longing to be close to you is real. If you’re willing, I’m ready to explain everything whenever you’re ready to ask.”

I had planned to win you over step by step, but the closer I got, the more I realized I was completely helpless against you, Han Buji thought helplessly.

Tao Hui wondered, What could it be? Could it be because I’m just so damn good at games?

Zhou Xun’s voice boomed through the phone, “Hui-ah! Did you hear me? We’re recording that variety show I mentioned tomorrow afternoon! If you have time, tell Han Buji that Wu Yue can’t reach him. Could a sasaeng fan have intercepted him?”

Tao Hui felt like she was about to split into two personalities—one listening to Han Buji’s tender confession, the other enduring Zhou Xun’s thunderous roar.

Outside the door, Han Buji continued, “Don’t want to ask today? Then get some rest. Good night.”

Tao Hui’s phone beeped, its battery at less than 5%. She rushed into the bedroom, plugged it into the charger, and shouted at the device, “Got it, Sister Xun! See you tomorrow!”

With that, she grabbed her skirt and dashed out of the bedroom.

Han Buji had just reached his doorstep, about to pull out his keys, when the door behind him swung open.

He turned to see Tao Hui running out, her skirt billowing. Her long, wavy hair from the banquet had been hastily twisted into a bun atop her head, and her figure-hugging dress accentuated her slender waist.

Her sudden dash caught Han Buji off guard. For a rare moment, he froze, then instinctively opened his arms.

In that instant, Tao Hui appeared to him like a butterfly finally breaking free from its chrysalis, spreading its wings to fly toward him.

What would she ask? What would she say?

A smile unconsciously crept onto Han Buji’s face, but before he could savor the moment, Tao Hui blurted out urgently, “Han Buji, Zhou Xun said Wu Yue is looking for you! Call Wu Yue back! Hurry, hurry, hurry!”