Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Tao Hui had never worked so effortlessly before. It felt like she’d spent the whole day playing around, and yet her work was already done. She’d even shared a kiss with the Best Actor during work hours!

She was living the dream!

A true winner in life!

Not just a winner, but also the target of millions of Han Meimei’s relentless pursuit.

The thought sent a shiver down Tao Hui’s spine. No, I can’t get carried away! she warned herself.

She patted her forehead, chilled by the Old North Wind, and struggled to recall her acting teacher’s words:

“The life of an actor is far from the glamorous image people imagine. So much effort goes unseen backstage—the sweat and toil of rolling in mud or enduring scorching sun, all for a fleeting, less-than-one-second shot of your back on screen. Ten years of practice for one minute on stage! Being an artist is tough, but being a good artist is even tougher…”

Tao Hui strained to remember the bruises left by the wire harness, finally managing to suppress her upward-curving lips. Just as she was about to launch into a deep reflection on the hardships and struggles of an actor’s career, Meng Xianying’s shout shattered her somber reverie.

“Three of a kind! I win! Pay up, pay up, pay up!”

Tao Hui: “……”

She took two steps back, glanced at the sign above the entrance, and confirmed she was entering “Qingya Inn,” not some gambling den.

Tao Hui and the others were filming their show in Snow Village, staying in a courtyard-style guesthouse reminiscent of Beijing’s traditional four-sided courtyard residences. Each had their own bedroom, and all meals and entertainment were provided. By now, everyone except Tao Hui and Han Buji had returned and were already engrossed in a lively mahjong game.

As Tao Hui and Han Buji pushed open the door, they saw Meng Xianying, the reigning queen of pop, her diamond-studded nails glittering, waving a wad of cash as she stuffed it into her pocket, singing with glee, “We common folk, we’re so happy today, yo-ho-ho-hey!”

Fe Sili, draped in an LV wool scarf, sat dejectedly behind Li Sijin, humbly seeking advice: “I heard people from Sichuan-Chongqing are really good at mahjong. Is that true?”

Li Sijin smiled modestly. “Not bad, not bad.”

Tang Qingqing, perched in high heels with her legs crossed, was locked in a heated debate with Xu Chang. “If you hadn’t played that One of Bamboo, I would have won! Xianying wouldn’t be collecting the money!”

Xu Chang retorted, “Then why didn’t you play Seven of Wan so I could have eaten it?”

Tao Hui stood rooted to the spot, muttering to herself, “Being an artist is so hard…”

On the large screen beside the mahjong table, karaoke accompaniment played. Lu Teng limped over, having just finished complaining to the director, “I never want to be paired with Fe Sili again! She insisted there were clues in that coal pile and nearly made me break my leg!”

Hearing the music start, he quickly grabbed the microphone and began singing passionately to the screen: “A person as exceptional as me should have lived a brilliant life. How is it that after over twenty years, I’m still adrift in the sea of people…”

It’s no wonder this variety show is popular not only with viewers but also with the artists themselves. No scripts to memorize, no wires to hang from—it’s like a vacation where they can do whatever they want. After filming, they can relax together playing mahjong and singing karaoke, creating a warm and harmonious atmosphere.

Seeing Han Buji and Tao Hui enter the room, Lu Teng muted the music and turned to ask, “Aiya, you’re back so late! Did you find a lot of clues?”

The mahjong game paused as everyone eagerly awaited their answer.

Tao Hui pulled three clue envelopes from her down jacket pocket and said modestly, “Not too many, just three.”

“Three isn’t much. I only found—” Xu Chang’s words trailed off abruptly, his face registering disbelief. “How many? Brother Han, how many did you guys find?”

Tang Qingqing kicked Xu Chang under the table, then awkwardly encouraged Tao Hui, “You’re really, really amazing, Sis! You found quite a lot!”

Tao Hui’s sharp eyes noticed Tang Qingqing discreetly tucking a stack of clue envelopes behind her back while speaking. It wasn’t very thick—maybe a dozen or so.

Meng Xianying, who was counting money, casually pressed her wallet down on another stack of clue envelopes. Again, not very thick—around twenty or so.

Even Fe Sili had stuffed a whole pile of envelopes under her butt.

Tao Hui glanced at the pitiful three envelopes in her hand and fell into a deep silence.

How could she face Han Buji, who was behind her, clutching his stomach in pain from drinking chili water?

Though, after their kiss and embrace, Han Buji hadn’t shown the slightest sign of stomach pain.

The atmosphere grew increasingly awkward. Lu Teng, fearing Tao Hui might withdraw into herself, turned on the background music and, with a delicate orchid finger gesture, said coyly like a young girl, “I wonder if I might have the honor of hearing the Best Actor sing a song? To be honest, I’m also one of your devoted Han Meimeis.”

“Hahahaha, Brother Lu, what are you doing? Your son is already three years old!” Xu Chang roared with laughter.

“Just because I have a son doesn’t mean I can’t admire handsome men!” Lu Teng retorted, feigning offense as he crossed his arms.

“Tao Hui’s here too! I’ve never heard her sing before,” Tang Qingqing said with a smile.

Li Sijin turned his head. “I want to hear Rabbit sing too!”

Amidst the crowd’s cheers, Tao Hui and Han Buji were pushed in front of the large screen, each handed a microphone.

The staff, ever perceptive, immediately dimmed the lights to create a cozy bar atmosphere. Even the mahjong players abandoned their game, pulling out their phones to record.

Han Buji, always affable, grinned as he took the microphone. “What do you want to hear?”

“Wow! We can request songs?” Fe Sili exclaimed excitedly.

Lu Teng, having worked with Fe Sili countless times, knew her penchant for belting out operatic high notes. He quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. “Just play that one from earlier, ‘Someone Like Me’! I love that song!”

Han Buji chuckled and glanced back at Tao Hui.

When their eyes met, Tao Hui’s cheeks flushed crimson. She lowered her head, pretending to click the “replay” button, avoiding his gaze. Only when the music started did she dare look up at the lyrics.

Han Buji, his down jacket unzipped, stretched his legs out lazily and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at the lyrics, his pale, clean fingers gripping the microphone. His phoenix eyes narrowed slightly as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “…A vulgar man like me never pretends to be profound. So why, when I hear an old song, do I suddenly lose myself?”

Before the last note faded, Han Buji looked at Tao Hui, his lowered lashes concealing the deep affection in his eyes.

As if sensing something, Tao Hui looked up. Meeting Han Buji’s gaze, she softly sang, “A cowardly person like me always holds back a little. So why did I once consider throwing myself wholeheartedly for someone?”

The two remained locked in a silent gaze, no longer looking at the scrolling lyrics on the screen.

When Tao Hui reached the final line, “Will anyone ever care for a strange person like me?” Han Buji abruptly set down the microphone and mouthed a single word to her.

He mouthed, “I will.”

Han Buji’s exceptional singing voice was well-known in the industry. Some had even joked, “With that angelic voice, if the Best Actor had pursued a singing career, he’d undoubtedly be crowned a King of Pop.”

There might have been some exaggeration in that statement, but Han Buji’s singing was indeed captivating.

What surprised everyone was how beautifully Tao Hui sang as well, her voice as clear and pure as spring water flowing from a snow-capped mountain.

As the song ended, no one noticed the shape Han Buji’s mouth formed when he set down the microphone. Everyone enthusiastically applauded the two cross-genre singing champions, except for Li Sijin, who quietly watched Tao Hui without moving or speaking.

Tao Hui felt her ears burning intensely. She glanced at Han Buji, who was smirking, and awkwardly fanned her face with her hand.

His silent “I will” exploded in Tao Hui’s ears like a thunderclap.

Already flustered by being flirted with by the Best Actor in public, Tao Hui was further unsettled when Tang Qingqing, ever the perceptive one, suddenly remarked, “Hey, you two! You sang this ordinary song about everyday life like a romantic duet!”

Tao Hui startled, glancing nervously at Han Buji. He chuckled and replied, “It’s about the people, not the song.”

A tall tree catches the wind. Celebrities who reach Han Buji’s level rarely dare to openly discuss their romantic lives. The public has long accepted a tacit rule: the deeper the secret, the more genuine the relationship; anything publicly revealed is merely a joke.

So no one gave it much thought. They laughed and joked for a while, took turns singing songs, and continued the fun until dinner.

Dinner was another farm-style meal, with everyone gathered around the table. Han Buji pondered the situation and decided he needed to have a serious talk with Tao Hui.

We’ve already hugged and kissed. I should ask her if she’s considering having a boyfriend, he thought.

Otherwise, given Tao Hui’s… unique way of thinking, he might end up hearing something like, “Are you just trying to get laid?” Han Buji feared he’d be so infuriated he’d cough up blood.

His stomach still felt uneasy, so Han Buji drank some congee and excused himself early. He returned to his room, took his stomach medication, and secretly rehearsed how to tell Tao Hui about his past.

How should I start?

The atmosphere’s been pretty good today. Maybe I should confess early.

“Tao Hui, we met a long time ago. I’ve actually been looking for you ever since”?

That sounds pretty good, Han Buji thought, stroking his chin.

As dusk settled, Han Buji figured Tao Hui must have finished her meal. He slipped on his down jacket, left his room, and followed the sounds of laughter and chatter toward the game room.

He scanned the room upon entering, spotting Tao Hui at the mahjong table and near the karaoke machine. Han Buji grabbed Xu Chang, who was passing by. “Have you seen Tao Hui?”

Xu Chang scratched his head. “Huihui? I think she went to the backyard with Li Sijin.”

Han Buji hissed softly and slowly made his way to the backyard.

The place they were staying felt like a senior center, complete with a game room for mahjong and karaoke, scheduled meals, and a backyard featuring artificial rock formations and a man-made pond—resembling a miniature park.

When they had arrived the previous day, Xu Chang had remarked, “This backyard is pretty well-designed, with its mountains and water. If it weren’t so cold that the pond is frozen over, it would be a great spot for dates, like the Lovers’ Lane on our college campus.”

Tang Qingqing had scoffed at the time. “You idiot! The cold is what makes it romantic! The girl says, ‘I’m so cold,’ and the guy takes off his jacket and drapes it over her—peak boyfriend material, you know? Even better at night, when they can steal a kiss under the jacket. So romantic!”

Han Buji hadn’t taken Xu Chang and Tang Qingqing’s jokes to heart at the time. But as he walked toward the backyard, their words echoed in his mind, verbatim.

He licked his lips and scoffed, “Getting bold, huh? Meeting other guys for dates by the rockery in this freezing weather.”

Just as he finished speaking, he looked up and saw Tao Hui’s figure.

Tao Hui, dressed in black, would have been difficult to spot in the dimly lit backyard. But the reflective silver stripes on her down jacket sleeves caught Han Buji’s eye instantly, allowing him to clearly see Li Sijin standing opposite her.

Han Buji stopped in his tracks, watching as Tao Hui hugged her arms, seemingly shivering from the cold. Then Li Sijin took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Li Sijin spoke tenderly, “Rabbit, we met a long time ago. I’ve been searching for you ever since.”

Han Buji: “?”