Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

This was an apology call. The moment Han Buji answered, 18-year-old Tao Hui instinctively held her breath, her lips trembling slightly. “Hello, I…”

Tao Hui paused for a fraction of a second.

After all, this was her idol—the one she waited for every day in front of the TV and in movie theaters! For a fleeting moment, Tao Hui hesitated, unsure whether to greet Movie Emperor Han first or introduce herself.

But he clearly had no intention of letting her decide. A rather sexy male voice erupted from the other end of the line, devoid of Tao Hui’s restraint and nervousness. “Fucking hell, why the fuck are you calling? Do you think I’m some kind of pushover? Call again and I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll fly! You little shithead, do you even know how much I earn in an hour? Stop fucking calling, you dumbass! I’ll slap you so hard your ears will ring!”

Tao Hui was stunned by the furious tirade, still reeling even after the call ended.

Forty-five seconds. She had endured forty-five full seconds of his abuse.

Tao Hui stared at her phone in disbelief. This… this is Han Buji?

This volatile man is the composed and aloof Han Buji from the screen?

The Han Buji fans were crying and begging to marry?

And… Han Buji is from Chuan Yu???

Oh, that might actually be true. Han Buji once played an undercover agent from Chuan Yu in a movie, and his dialect was spot-on.

After all, he had said on the phone, “Do you know how much I earn in an hour?” Most celebrities wouldn’t dare say something like that, but with Han Buji’s market value, it wasn’t an exaggeration at all.

Eighteen-year-old Tao Hui was disillusioned. She never again dreamed of being pinned against a wall and kissed by the Best Actor, nor did she ever watch another one of his movies.

From then on, the Best Actor was just another stranger!

The matter of apologizing to the Best Actor was shelved, but Han Buji’s fans—the Han Meimeis—had no intention of letting Tao Hui off the hook. Even three years later, Tao Hui still occasionally received a hateful message or two.

It could only be said that the Han Meimeis, named after characters from English textbooks, were every bit as vicious as their volatile idol when it came to hurling insults.

Tao Hui had endured for three years, and now that she had finally landed a role in a reputable production, she absolutely couldn’t afford to give the Han Meimeis any more ammunition!

To avoid any chance of encountering Han Buji, whether by accident or fate, Tao Hui simply stopped leaving her apartment altogether.

In the days leading up to filming, she lived a blissful life of takeout meals, script reading, and gaming with her Little Fanboy.

…

On the morning of her first day on set, Tao Hui rubbed her eyes, glanced at the calendar, and froze.

Oh no, it’s starting today.

Sister Xun would definitely come to pick her up at noon. Wouldn’t the pile of takeout containers in her trash—fatty intestines stir-fry, fried chicken strips, pork rib rice, and extra-large beef ramen—be exposed?

And what about the crayfish shells and bamboo skewers from her late-night barbecue?

Tao Hui was one of those infuriatingly blessed people who could eat anything without gaining weight or breaking out.

But managers had their professional quirks. They always nagged their artists about greasy or spicy food, and if they were in a good mood, they might even sign her up for a “body sculpting and wellness” course.

Tao Hui rummaged through a corner and found a pink Peppa Pig mask. Grabbing the trash bag, she prepared to destroy the evidence by dumping it in the stairwell bin.

It was barely past 5 a.m., still dark outside. Half-asleep, Tao Hui yawned widely, her delicate fingers wiping away the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Clad in fuzzy bear slippers, she stumbled toward the fire escape, the trash bag dangling from her hand.

When she was six or seven, someone had told her that walking with her eyes closed would lead to a ghost encounter. The legend had terrified her so much that her face had turned pale. Ever since, she’d forced her eyes wide open whenever she walked alone, afraid that even a blink might bring her face-to-face with a long-haired specter.

Tao Hui finished yawning and didn’t immediately open her eyes. Her eyelids remained half-closed, her eyelashes clumped together from rubbing, leaving only a narrow, tear-blurred slit.

It’s so nice to be grown up, she thought with amusement. I’m not even afraid to walk with my eyes closed anymore.

The moment this thought crossed her mind, Tao Hui felt something under her foot. The next instant, she stumbled into a cedarwood and sandalwood-scented embrace.

This scent was all too familiar. The terror of being cursed by Han Meimei and her group sent a chill from the top of her head to her toes.

Colliding with a fragrant man—and the Best Actor, no less—at the corner of a hallway was anything but romantic for Tao Hui. In fact, it was downright terrifying.

Tao Hui’s eyes snapped open. She stumbled backward, putting distance between them. Han Buji stood before her, wearing a black mask that concealed everything but his phoenix-shaped eyes. His deep, dark gaze, hidden behind long lashes, scrutinized her.

So, walking with your eyes closed really does lead to bumping into ghosts!

“Careful,” Han Buji said, gently steadying her arm as she retreated. His tone was polite and gentlemanly.

Judging by the slight curve of his eyes, he might even be smiling.

You’re such a hypocrite, Tao Hui fumed inwardly. Where was this gentlemanly act back when you were cursing me out in Chuan Yu dialect over the phone?

Her tirade had been so impassioned that she hadn’t repeated herself once in 45 seconds.

Taking a large step back, Tao Hui suddenly realized her predicament. The hallway, meticulously cleaned by the building management, was occupied by five people besides herself: Han Buji, his manager, two assistants (possibly), and his stylist.

Each of them was impeccably dressed and looked refreshed.

In contrast, Tao Hui knew without looking that her bun was a mess and she was still in her pajamas, making her feel like she belonged to a different world from the five people opposite her.

The hallway fell silent, twelve eyes locking onto her.

Tao Hui decisively picked up her trash bag and continued walking. After all, she was wearing a mask. If she kept quiet, there was a 99% chance Han Buji’s team, including Han Buji himself, wouldn’t recognize her.

Even if Han Buji did know her, he’d only remember her as the person who drew turtles on his posters—he certainly wouldn’t know her name was Tao Hui.

With this thought, Tao Hui relaxed. She carried the trash bag leisurely toward the stairwell.

She had only taken two steps when Han Buji suddenly called out from behind, “Tao Hui?”

Tao Hui: “…QAQ”

That’s not me! You’ve mistaken me for someone else! Don’t spread rumors!

Tao Hui chose selective deafness, maintaining her steady pace as she pushed open the stairwell door and tossed the trash inside.

Tao Hui turned to find the five people behind her still standing at the elevator door. Han Buji lowered his mask, smiled, and extended a hand. “I heard you’re joining the Sheng Jue cast. Welcome.”

Welcome? Who is he welcoming?

Tao Hui closed her eyes in despair. Under their watchful gazes, she reluctantly touched Han Buji’s hand with her fingertips, adopting an aloof demeanor. Gritting her teeth, she forced out, “P-pleasant… collaboration!”

With that, Tao Hui hurried away, her steps slightly unsteady. Her left foot caught on the fluffy bear slipper on her right, causing her to stumble home and slam the door shut with a loud bang.

In her haste, she didn’t notice the Best Actor behind her, covering his mouth with his fist, his icy expression melting into a warm smile.

His team members exchanged bewildered glances, their mouths agape, unsure what to say.

After all, they had witnessed their Movie Emperor casually stroll to the elevator, suddenly stop, turn back, and position himself around the corner. He even removed his hand from his pocket, striking a pose that looked almost like he was preparing for an embrace.

Then a girl wearing a Peppa Pig mask appeared, looking half-asleep. Yawning incessantly with her eyes closed, she stumbled straight into the Best Actor’s arms like an unsuspecting rabbit.

It looked suspiciously like the Best Actor had done it on purpose.

Manager Wu Yue and the other staff members were silently cursing, unable to voice their frustration. Han Buji snapped his fingers cheerfully. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to act in Sheng Jue anymore, Sister Xun! The Han Meimeis will tear me to shreds! They’ll ambush me on my way home and hang me from that hundred-year-old tree outside the complex with your tie! Waaah!”

Tao Hui wailed hysterically, her voice hoarse with despair. Flipping to the tiny print of the cast list at the end of the script, she pointed a trembling finger at Han Buji’s name. “Opposite scenes! I have opposite scenes with him! Heaven help me! Is my second career downfall coming this soon?!”

Zhou Xun, caught off guard by the sudden outburst, tried to reassure her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s just making a friendly cameo. I checked—his role is small. Just be careful during filming to avoid any rumors. It’ll be fine.”

“Think about it, you’re aiming to be an award-winning actress. Can you really let a little setback stop you? Are Han Meimeis still so intimidating when you’re on your way to becoming a queen of the screen?”

Intimidating? Of course they are! But the thought of that gleaming golden trophy kept Tao Hui going. She’d even rehearsed her acceptance speech!

When the wind died down and the rain cleared, Tao Hui felt her confidence return.

After getting her makeup done, she changed into tight jeans and a white mohair turtleneck sweater, her hair neatly tied back in a ponytail. She looked like the very picture of a good, obedient girl.

Sister Xun had warned her that Director Chen’s crew was full of seasoned veterans who disliked flashy newcomers and preferred hardworking, obedient actors.

Tao Hui entered the set looking every bit the dutiful daughter.

She arrived a bit early; the staff hadn’t returned from lunch yet, leaving only the assistant director present.

By sheer coincidence, Han Buji was also there, chatting with the assistant director at a table.

Tao Hui felt like fate had her by the scruff of the neck. Stiffening her resolve, she approached to greet them. “Good afternoon, Assistant Director. Hello, Teacher Han.”

“Tao Hui’s here! Come, come, have a cup of pear juice. It’s terribly dry today. I’ll introduce you to everyone when they get back.” The assistant director, who seemed more approachable than Director Chen, gestured for her to sit down.

The plastic table had only three chairs. The empty one was next to Han Buji, across from the assistant director.

Unable to refuse his insistent invitation, Tao Hui shuffled over and sat down. As soon as she settled in, the assistant director said, “Xiao Han, you should drink more too. Xiao Xu suddenly got a nosebleed yesterday. The Imperial Capital is great, but the autumns are so dry—easy to get a heat rash.”

Han Buji was a master of playing the humble servant. He was all obedience in front of the assistant director, first filling the assistant director’s cup with hot water from the thermos before politely saying, “Please, have more. I’m fine—I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m used to it.”

“Oh, right, right! I almost forgot—you’re from the Imperial Capital, Xiao Han?” the assistant director asked.

Han Buji nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Tao Hui turned her head and rolled her eyes so hard they nearly popped out of her head.

Bullshit! You’re about as Imperial Capital as a fart!

Have you forgotten how you were cursing me in your thick Chuan Yu accent just yesterday?

Her eye roll was a bit too vigorous. Before Tao Hui could turn back, Han Buji suddenly asked casually, “Miss Tao, are your eyes bothering you?”

Author’s Note: My Best Actor is such a headache! With his repressed personality, will he ever find someone? Tsk tsk tsk.