Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Tao Hui hadn’t expected this embrace. In the freezing snow, even through their thick down jackets, there was barely any physical contact—less suggestive than the staged hugs in thin robes during filming.

The howling wind whipped against them, threatening to raise Tao Hui’s hairline. Han Buji, still unwell, was sweating profusely from stomach pain.

Their earlier fall had sent them tumbling so far that they’d lost the cameraman.

Normally, in such a situation, this embrace shouldn’t evoke any particular feelings.

Yet Tao Hui felt her body temperature soaring. She was so hot she could no longer feel the seven heat packs plastered to her body. Her heart pounded wildly, thumping so hard it felt like it would burst through her chest.

Tao Hui was in a daze. Whenever she’d read scripts for domineering CEO dramas, where the male lead would suddenly embrace the female lead and declare, “Woman, I’m hopelessly in love with your damned tenderness,” she’d roll her eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into her skull.

In Tao Hui’s ideal scenario, if a man ever dared to suddenly embrace her, she’d beat him so badly his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. Then she’d hang the shameless scoundrel with Zhou Xun’s ugliest tie—the one with the big-mouthed monkey print—and mark the anniversary of his death the following year.

Now, Han Buji held her close, his arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand cradling the back of her head, his face buried in her shoulder.

In this very real embrace, Tao Hui felt not the urge to punch him, but a strange flutter in her chest.

What the hell is going on?

Is it the winter wind making my heart pound like I’ve been electrocuted?

Han Buji’s scent was familiar. Despite receiving two bottles of perfume from Tao Hui under his “Little Fanboy” persona, he still preferred his signature cedar and sandalwood.

Tao Hui pressed her forehead against his chest, the cedar and sandalwood mingling with the icy air, creating a comforting aroma reminiscent of sun-dried blankets—as if she were leaning against the only source of warmth in this cold, empty space.

Maybe seven heat packs aren’t enough to keep me warm, Tao Hui thought. Otherwise, why would I want this hug to last forever?

This realization made Tao Hui feel a pang of self-reproach. She hadn’t noticed when her relationship with Han Buji had grown so close. Even when Li Sijin joined the reality show, she hadn’t consulted Zhou Xun or Miao Miao, only secretly discussed it with Han Buji.

I can’t hug him any longer. If I do, I might actually put my arms around his back and hug him back.

Tao Hui’s hands dangled awkwardly at her sides, unsure where to go. Without thinking, she tentatively placed them on Han Buji’s stomach and gave a restrained push outward.

“Mmm,” Han Buji groaned softly.

“Shut up,” Tao Hui snapped, suppressing her irritation. “I barely touched you! What’s with the moaning?”

Is this guy sick or something? Does a little push trigger some kind of mental climax? What’s with all the “mmm” nonsense?!

Han Buji’s head remained resting on Tao Hui’s shoulder, his voice tinged with helplessness. “Tao Hui, my stomach hurts.”

“…Oh, oh! Right, right.” Tao Hui quickly withdrew her hands, but after a brief struggle, she couldn’t bring herself to push the weakened man away. Instead, she asked, “What should we do? Should we rest for a bit?”

Han Buji might have chuckled softly as he released his embrace.

They were in a secluded spot, alone in the vast, snow-covered landscape. The only sound was the barely audible whisper of falling snowflakes.

The rustling of their down jackets as they separated was particularly noticeable in the quiet.

An ambiguous rustling sound.

Tao Hui’s face flushed. Afraid to meet Han Buji’s eyes, she glanced around and blurted out, “Let’s see if there’s a place we can sit down. You need to rest and ease your stomach pain. We can leave when the cameraman comes looking for us.”

She was just making things up—there was no way there’d be a building in such a remote place.

But before she could finish speaking, Tao Hui’s sharp eyes spotted a small structure. She excitedly tugged on Han Buji’s sleeve. “Han Buji! A building! We’re saved!”

Han Buji stared at his sleeve, raising an eyebrow. Tao Hui’s fingertips were pink from the cold as she gripped the fabric tightly. He’d lost count of how many times she’d grabbed his sleeve in the past few days, and he found the sensation rather pleasant.

Only Han Buji was suffering from stomach pain, yet when Tao Hui found the building, she said, “We’re saved.” This warmed his heart, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The fact that Tao Hui hadn’t rejected his embrace also pleased him. Ignoring the burning sensation in his stomach, he asked with a smile, “Where is it?”

“Over there!” Tao Hui pointed excitedly. “Can you walk?”

“I can,” Han Buji replied.

The two slowly walked toward the small house Tao Hui had discovered. Neither spoke, each lost in their own thoughts as they left two sets of footprints in the snow.

The house wasn’t locked; its thick curtain hung like a cotton quilt. Tao Hui was about to call out, “Is anyone home?” when the door swung open from inside.

A middle-aged man in a fur hat pushed the door open, as if he were about to leave. Startled by Han Buji and Tao Hui at the entrance, he blurted out, “Who are you? What do you want?”

This guy looks way too tough!

Tao Hui instinctively shielded Han Buji, who was still suffering from stomach pain, and said politely, “Hello, we’re here to film a TV show in Snow Village and got a bit lost. My friend isn’t feeling well—could we rest in your house for a while?”

The man eyed them suspiciously, but when he saw Han Buji’s pale face, he slapped his thigh. “Oh my gosh, young man, what happened? You look terrible!”

Tao Hui, remembering a brief conversation with the Boss Lady at their inn the previous day, tried her hand at the local Northeast dialect. “Sir, can we come inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Come on in, you two! Look at you, dressed in such flimsy clothes. Why didn’t you bundle up more for Snow Village? Look at me in this thick cotton-padded coat—it’s super warm!” The elder brother warmly ushered Tao Hui and Han Buji into the room, pushing them inside. “You two can rest here. I’ve got to get back to work. Heat water yourself, and help yourselves to some food if you’re hungry. Don’t be shy!”

Han Buji politely replied, “Thank you for your trouble.”

The elder brother, clearly in a hurry, gave a few quick instructions before leaving, leaving Tao Hui and Han Buji alone.

Tao Hui was stunned that the elder brother had left them so casually. After a moment of disbelief, she blurted out, “Guess we look trustworthy enough?”

The room was simple but clean, with a single bed, a small table beside it, and a large iron kettle next to the coal stove.

Tao Hui pushed Han Buji toward the bed. “Patient, take a seat. I’ll heat some water for you.”

The coal stove had warmed the room to a sweltering temperature, so Tao Hui took off her down jacket. After a moment’s thought, she draped it over Han Buji’s shoulders, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up the kettle to fetch water.

Han Buji’s gaze flickered slightly. The woman’s down jacket draped over him carried a faint fruity scent, like pears—sweet and refreshing.

Tao Hui, dressed in a sleek black tracksuit, turned on the simple faucet. As the kettle filled, it grew increasingly heavy, and she struggled to lift it with one hand.

The kettle was old, its white tin surface dented in several places. The bottom was blackened with soot from countless boilings. Tao Hui, undeterred by the grime, cradled the kettle in her hand and placed it on the stove.

While the water heated, she washed two glasses with practiced ease.

Han Buji should have gotten up to help, but his upset stomach made him feel sluggish. More importantly, watching Tao Hui boil water, wash glasses, and wipe them clean gave him a sense of being cared for.

“Tao Hui,” Han Buji called out.

“What is it?” Tao Hui asked, holding up the two glasses. “Touched by your Teacher Tao’s kindness?”

Han Buji chuckled, gesturing at the women’s down jacket he was wearing. “It’s just a stomachache. No need to make such a fuss, right?”

Tao Hui pursed her lips, muttering, “Just stay put. You knew your stomach was acting up—why did you choose that spicy soup? You should have gotten the beef noodles like Teacher Lu Teng. He seemed to be enjoying them.”

“I was afraid you’d change your mind if I took too long,” Han Buji replied, his gaze surprisingly earnest.

“What did those crispy golden balls taste like, anyway? Why didn’t you eat them?” Tao Hui’s ears burned as she turned away, mumbling, trying to change the subject.

She felt flustered, sensing an unspoken intimacy in Han Buji’s gaze.

We just hugged, and he said, “Holding you makes me feel better.” Why is he still looking at me like that?

Another hug?

The more Tao Hui thought about it, the hotter her face burned. Unable to meet Han Buji’s gaze, she stared fixedly at the zipper track on his jacket.

Han Buji chuckled softly, answering her earlier question in a gentle tone, “It doesn’t taste very good. Kind of like cow dung.”

Only Han Buji could make cow dung sound like a romantic compliment.

As he spoke, the water boiled, the kettle’s spout gurgling and steaming. Tao Hui’s tense shoulders relaxed, and she finally broke free of Han Buji’s gaze, rising to fetch the kettle.

“Hey,” Tao Hui said, lifting the heavy kettle with both hands and awkwardly pouring two cups of hot water.

A strand of hair brushed her cheek, tickling her. She swiped at it, oblivious to the coal dust smearing across her face. She could feel Han Buji’s eyes fixed on her the entire time, making her almost stumble when she set the kettle back down.

Taking a deep breath, Tao Hui yanked off the personal microphone clipped to her collar and blurted out, “I haven’t used a kettle like this in ages. When I was little, I used to help Dean Sister boil water at the orphanage all the time. Han Buji, I grew up in an orphanage.”

“There were many children in the orphanage, all like me—without parents from a young age. We weren’t the kind of orphans you see on TV, the heroic children of firefighters or disaster relief workers. We were the kind of orphans selfish men and women abandoned because they didn’t want to raise us.”

“I love fruit-scented perfume because there was an apple tree at the orphanage, but I never got any apples. Occasionally, kind-hearted aunts and uncles would bring fruit, and I’d get a small piece.”

“When I was filming a crime drama, a psychological consultant told me that whatever you lack in childhood, you might try to compensate for as an adult. That’s why I love fruit-scented perfume.”

The atmosphere was too strange. Tao Hui wanted to say something else to break the awkwardness.

But even she was surprised by the random topics she blurted out. She had never voluntarily brought up these things before.

Even Zhou Xun only learned she was an orphan by reading her resume for work.

Why was she talking about her past? Why mention the orphanage? Why share her history with Han Buji?

Was she trying to dispel the awkwardness, or hoping that Han Buji would still flirt with her even after knowing her full story?

Two cups of hot water sat before Tao Hui, wisps of steam rising from their surfaces. Through the hazy veil, she couldn’t quite make out Han Buji’s expression. She slowly moved closer, trying to see more clearly.

It’s too chaotic. My mind is too chaotic.

Will Han Buji look down on me? Will he say orphans like me lack proper upbringing because we’re missing parents?

What will he ask me?

Han Buji held his cup, blowing away the swirling steam as he lowered his lashes and took a small sip.

After a long moment, he finally looked up, meeting Tao Hui’s anxious gaze. “Tao Hui,” he asked, “what kind of man do you like?”

“Huh?” Tao Hui froze, caught off guard.

Han Buji remained seated on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush away the smudge of coal dust she had left on his cheek earlier. He repeated, “What kind of man do you like?”

“Do you have any more candy?” Tao Hui blurted out, her answer completely unrelated to the question.

“I do,” Han Buji replied with a sigh, withdrawing his hand. His thumb was stained with the coal dust he had wiped from her face. He pulled out a piece of Dried Tangerine Peel candy from his pocket, smiling. “Didn’t you give me all of it yesterday? Why are you changing your mind now?”

Han Buji’s cheerful demeanor made it seem as if Tao Hui had imagined his earlier question.

This was actually a perfect opportunity to change the subject, but after successfully diverting the conversation, Tao Hui suddenly realized she didn’t truly want to change the subject. She had only felt caught off guard and wanted to continue discussing the previous question.

Women truly are contradictory creatures, she thought, constantly contradicting themselves and then secretly regretting it.

He probably wouldn’t ask a third time.

Tao Hui listlessly unwrapped the candy. To ease the awkwardness, she casually asked, “Would eating candy help with a stomachache?”

“Can you answer my question first, Tao Hui?” Han Buji suddenly looked up, his gaze sharp.

Tao Hui’s hand, holding the candy, froze. She clearly felt a fleeting moment of secret joy in her heart before quickly answering, “I like tall men, handsome men, men who treat me well, and men who are knowledgeable and talented. What I hate most are hot-tempered men who dig up people’s ancestral graves with their words.”

“Why?” Han Buji set his water glass aside. “Does it have something to do with the birthmark on your neck?”

“Yes,” Tao Hui said earnestly, looking directly at Han Buji. “I found my father once and saw him beat a woman—who might have been my mother—until her head was covered in blood. He was cursing her the whole time.”

Han Buji nodded. “I understand.”

Wait, that’s it?

You were looking at me so intimately, I thought you were going to give me a passionate hug!

“Just ‘I understand’ and that’s it?”

Tao Hui’s eyes widened in disbelief. She angrily tossed the candy into her mouth and bit it in half with a sharp crunch.

She wasn’t just angry; she felt a pang of disappointment, a loss of composure, and an urge to hit someone!

Especially that slight curve at the corner of Han Buji’s lips, like a tiny hook that kept snagging at her heart.

“It might help a little,” Han Buji suddenly said.

“Huh?” Tao Hui struggled to process what he meant.

Was he finally answering her earlier question about whether eating candy would help with his stomachache?

Your reaction time is glacial! Any later and I’d have forgotten I even asked!

As Tao Hui rolled her eyes, Han Buji spoke again, his voice low and husky: “But that was the last piece.”

“?” Tao Hui swirled the two halves of candy around in her mouth with her tongue and blurted out, “Then I’ll give you half back?”

Before the words had even left her lips, Han Buji suddenly reached out and pulled her forward. Caught off guard, Tao Hui stumbled half a step, falling into his arms.

The next moment, Han Buji leaned closer and whispered, “It’s not entirely out of the question.”

A warm, soft touch brushed her lips, fleeting as a dragonfly’s kiss. Han Buji’s phoenix eyes flickered with a deep, hidden flame, his voice slightly hoarse. “Share half with me?”

Did he just kiss me?

Did Han Buji actually kiss me?

Tao Hui froze completely, stammering, unsure what to say. The scent of cedar and sandalwood enveloped her, the brief kiss leaving her mind in a daze. She blurted out, “You didn’t eat the cow dung-flavored crispy ball because you were worried about bad breath?”

Oh my god! Tao Hui, is your brain full of shit?!

“Silly girl,” Han Buji chuckled, gently stroking her chin with his thumb, his tone slightly possessive. “Open your mouth.”

“Okay,” Tao Hui murmured.

She closed her eyes, her lashes trembling, tilting her chin slightly upward in response to the pressure of Han Buji’s fingers.

The mingled scents of cedar, sandalwood, and pear filled the air. Tao Hui’s fingers gripped Han Buji’s shirt so tightly that her fingertips turned white.

In that humble little cabin, they embraced and kissed in silence.

Their breaths mingled, the blizzard raging outside irrelevant to their world. The kiss was fervent and urgent, yet quiet and tender.

Complete.

After that embrace, Tao Hui’s chaotic emotions—the panic and anticipation, the desire to flee and the longing to stay—finally dissolved.

Her heart still raced, pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest.

Yet the taste of dried tangerine peel between her lips brought a sense of calm.

Having never filmed a kissing scene before, Tao Hui felt like she’d been struck by lightning, a tingling numbness spreading down her spine. Han Buji’s hand gently stroked her back, only intensifying the sensation.

Her pent-up emotions crumpled into restless ripples, like waves on a pond.

“Teacher Han! Tao Hui! Are you in there?” The cameraman’s voice and a knock echoed from outside. “Teacher Han, are you there?”

Tao Hui startled at the sudden interruption, her eyes widening in panic, her eyelashes trembling violently.

Han Buji, however, calmly finished the last two kisses before pulling back. He patted her back reassuringly as he withdrew.

Tao Hui’s legs felt weak. Han Buji helped her stand, calling out, “We’re here. Just a moment.”

Then, Tao Hui watched in disbelief as that dog of a man, acting as if nothing had happened, casually opened the door and chatted with the cameraman as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

If her lips weren’t still moist, she would have doubted whether the kiss had been a figment of her imagination.

Han Buji had somehow explained things to the cameraman, because he now looked completely fine, his stomachache gone. He smiled and waved at Tao Hui. “Let’s go, Tao Hui. We’re heading back.”

Is he just going to kiss me and leave?! Is he not going to acknowledge what happened?!

Tao Hui abruptly stood up, put on her down jacket, and bumped into Han Buji. In a rough voice, she asked, knowing the answer, “Where’s my candy?”

Han Buji glanced at the cameraman walking ahead, ruffled Tao Hui’s hair, and said in a deep, resonant voice that could drown a person without remorse, “It’s in my mouth.”

Author’s Note:

Tao Hui: You said you’d share half! Why did you take it all?

Han Buji: Oh, you want it back?

Tao Hui: N-no, never mind!