Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 44

Chapter 44

“Hui-ah! Can you hear me? If that old fox calls, don’t answer! Just pretend you can’t hear him!” Zhou Xun’s voice boomed from the phone’s speaker. Tao Hui and Han Buji exchanged a silent glance, neither speaking.

The call couldn’t have come at a worse time. Tao Hui’s mind was still reeling from Han Buji’s earlier confession: “I’ve fallen for someone four times.” She couldn’t bring herself to care whether her boss would sabotage her endorsement deal, even though it was currently her most lucrative project.

“Did you hear me, Hui-er? Damn it, I’m getting angrier the more I talk about it! That shameless old turtle! If this endorsement falls through, I’ll hang myself at his doorstep! I’m hanging up now. Just don’t answer the boss’s call, okay?” Zhou Xun finished his rant and hung up.

After the call ended, the living room fell into a silence so profound you could hear a pin drop.

Tao Hui sat cross-legged on one end of the sofa, a meter away from Han Buji, with three stacked throw pillows forming a barrier between them—what she called the “38th Parallel.”

She let her hair down, held a hair tie between her teeth, and re-tied her hair into a ponytail. Only then did she cross her arms and say to Han Buji, “Tell me the story behind you becoming such a player!”

Han Buji didn’t rush to explain. He leaned back casually against the sofa, tapping his index finger rhythmically on the armrest as if pondering how to begin. He looked at Tao Hui and smiled faintly. “Ready?”

“Alright!” Tao Hui said in a rough voice, lifting her chin and slapping the pillow between them.

A small cloud of fine dust particles rose into the air, drifting slowly in the sunlight.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Han Buji’s face and revealing the depths of his dark eyes. Tao Hui watched his sensual lips slowly part, his magnetic voice reaching her ears:

“July 3, 2012, Dragon Head Coast, 6 PM.

March 1, 2014, Chaoyang District Cinema, 3:10 PM, screening of The Wandering Hunter.

November 6, 2016, Iceland, 2 AM, outskirts of town.

August 12, 2018, Beijing Oceanarium, 2 PM.”

The dates and locations sounded familiar. Tao Hui blinked slowly, remaining silent.

Han Buji smiled. “Recognize them? That was just the prologue. Now, let’s begin my love story.”

Tao Hui was a straightforward person. Growing up in an orphanage, she had seen the motto “Look forward, never back” plastered on the walls, a phrase that had subtly shaped her worldview. She tended to let the past fade, her memories of it hazy. But Han Buji’s words stirred faint recollections of those bygone days.

“On July 3, 2012, I was taking a walk on a deserted beach to clear my head. I’d just waded up to my waist when I stepped into a hole. I can’t swim, but a girl saved me. Before I could thank her, she was gone,” Han Buji said.

It was that day—the first time she had taken the train to see the sea. She had saved a handsome young man with striking features.

The beach wasn’t particularly scenic, and there were hardly any people around. Even the locals avoided fishing there, as construction crews had dredged deep pits into the seabed beneath the seemingly tranquil surface.

Fourteen-year-old Tao Hui accidentally witnessed Han Buji struggling in the water. She rushed forward, dove into the sea like a nimble fish, and pulled him to safety.

Han Buji had a deep gash on his side. People on the shore called for medical assistance, and as the paramedics were taking him away, he turned to thank his rescuer, only to see a girl standing at the water’s edge.

The sky was darkening, but the girl’s eyes shone brightly. Her hair was styled in a bun, with wisps of hair fluttering across her forehead in the sea breeze. The scene was beautiful, and it was the first time Han Buji felt his heart stir.

The girl hurried away as if pressed for time, leaving Han Buji unable to voice his gratitude. All he remembered was the pink, rose petal-shaped birthmark on the neck of the beautiful girl who had saved his life.

“On March 1, 2014, my film premiered. Bored and with nothing better to do, I bought a ticket and went to the cinema hoping to catch a nap. I arrived a bit late, and a girl was sitting next to me. She watched the entire film intently and even cried at the end—so silly,” Han Buji said casually, removing a cushion from between them.

Tao Hui remembered that day vividly. She had stayed up all night to snag the tickets, and the film had moved her to tears. The man in black beside her had pretended to sleep the entire time.

Han Buji chuckled, picturing Tao Hui’s tear-streaked face.

He hadn’t recognized her that day, but he found her amusing. She was still sobbing as she left the cinema, and even as she stood by the road waiting for a taxi, she couldn’t stop crying. When she accidentally turned and briefly met Han Buji’s gaze, her eyes were red-rimmed yet crystal clear. Han Buji froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Those beautiful eyes seemed familiar.

As she stepped into the taxi and untied the scarf around her neck, Han Buji suddenly noticed a pink, rose-shaped birthmark on her neck.

It was her! Han Buji, who wasn’t driving, couldn’t chase after the taxi and could only watch helplessly as she disappeared into the sea of cars.

“In 2016, I was filming in Iceland. Despite spending several days there, I hadn’t had a chance to see the Northern Lights. One evening, I saw a notification on my phone indicating a high probability of aurora activity. On a whim, I drove out to the countryside and saw a girl on the ice plain who was even more beautiful than the Northern Lights.” Han Buji reached out and removed another cushion, leaving only one between them.

Tao Hui’s eyes widened in disbelief. That year in Iceland, she had thought her encounter with Han Buji was limited to the hotel entrance in Reykjavik, where he had photographed her career’s disastrous moment. Could it be that they had also crossed paths on the ice plain, under the Northern Lights?

That day on the ice plain, Tao Hui had been wearing a bright red ski suit, muttering “Fashion, fashion, the most fashionable” as she snapped a photo of her fiery red figure against the eerie green glow of the aurora—a striking “red and green” contrast. She stumbled over to check the camera, tripped on an old patch of ice, and fell. After picking herself up and running a few steps with the camera, she turned back and stomped angrily on the offending ice.

Standing in the freezing wind, Tao Hui gazed up at the sky filled with the Northern Lights. At that moment, she had no idea what awaited her back at the hotel. All she felt was the aurora’s breathtaking beauty and the promise of a bright future.

As she stood there, she softly sang an old Cantonese song. The wind whipped her thick scarf around her face. Unbeknownst to her, a car had stopped some distance away. Inside, Han Buji listened to the wind’s whisper and her song.

That day, Han Buji was truly moved, thinking he had seen a fiery red rose blooming on the icy plains, reaching towards the aurora.

Han Buji didn’t consider himself a sentimental person. Having encountered countless women in the entertainment industry, he still vividly remembered the bright eyes he had seen by the sea when he was twenty. He smiled at the red rose and drove away.

Two years later, while idly browsing the internet, Han Buji clicked on a video bearing his name and saw the familiar figure he had been searching for.

The little girl he remembered had grown up. Wearing a wool dress, she looked both bewildered and shocked as she covered the birthmark on her neck. It was on that day that Han Buji finally learned the name of the girl who often appeared in his dreams: Tao Hui.

Realizing that all three times he had been moved, it had been by the same girl, Han Buji found the coincidence astonishing. He immediately asked a friend to track Tao Hui’s schedule and learned she was filming an advertisement at the Beijing Oceanarium. In the sweltering summer heat, Han Buji drove an hour and a half straight to the Oceanarium.

Beijing’s summer heat was oppressive, the scorching sun leaving people parched and dry-mouthed.

Sitting in his car at the Oceanarium entrance, Han Buji wiped the sweat from his forehead and realized he hadn’t even thought to turn on the air conditioning during the entire drive.

Han Buji scoffed at himself, realizing he hadn’t acted so impulsively in all his 26 years.

“On August 12, 2018, I saw a girl in a sky-blue dress outside the Beijing Oceanarium. She was holding a pale pink dolphin-shaped helium balloon and smiling beautifully,” Han Buji said slowly, removing the last cushion between them and propping himself up on the sofa, his eyes fixed on Tao Hui’s.

Outside the Oceanarium, Han Buji watched Tao Hui skip out in her blue dress. Her manager, Zhou Xun, patted her shoulder, startling her so badly she whipped around, letting go of the balloon. Han Buji overheard Tao Hui laughing, “Sister Xun, buy me another dolphin! A hardworking artist deserves an ice cream cone!”

Her assistant, Miao Miao, peeked out from behind her, and the three of them cheerfully went to buy ice cream. Greedy Tao Hui had five different flavors piled onto her cone, but before she’d taken three steps, one of the scoops tumbled off.

Han Buji watched her adorable, tearful expression, feeling a pang of emotion he’d never experienced before.

That day, the usually fearless Han Buji fell silent. He sat motionless in his car, watching Tao Hui’s figure for a long time before finally starting the engine and driving home.

First impressions only happen once. This girl jumped at a simple tap on the shoulder, clearly not very brave. He didn’t want to scare her.

As the owner of his own company, Han Buji’s mindset was rooted in the principle of “know your enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated.”

Why did she hide the birthmark on her neck? What kind of girl was she? What did she like and dislike? He wanted to know everything.

Like an impatient teenager of seventeen or eighteen, Han Buji immediately contacted a friend and bought a gaming account from Tao Hui’s former assistant. Starting with playing games together, he gradually worked his way into her life, bit by bit.

“That’s my entire romantic history,” Han Buji said.

The Nordic-style furniture, Han Buji’s slowly lowered eyelashes as he spoke, and those moments Tao Hui had experienced but never truly remembered gradually became clear. She stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking, her voice tinged with disbelief. “No wonder you looked so familiar when I first saw your movie.”

Han Buji chuckled, pointing to the photos in the entryway. “I was hoping you’d discover them yourself.”

Tao Hui followed his gaze and realized there were indeed many photos, but every single one had been taken at the beach. How had she never noticed them before?

Han Buji should really answer those online questions like “How to answer your girlfriend’s question about your first impression of her to get a perfect score.” Tao Hui remembered reading such threads before, filled with complaints from women about their boyfriends forgetting the time, place, or even the occasion of their first meeting.

Han Buji not only remembered the exact time and place, but he was also telling her that all four times he fell for her were because of her.

If this were someone else’s story, Tao Hui would definitely comment, “What kind of fairytale romance is this?!”

But this was happening to her. Tao Hui patted her cheeks, staring at the photo wall in the entryway, her heart racing. She murmured, “H-how did you know I’d definitely like you?”

Han Buji pulled Tao Hui closer, his expression earnest. “I only knew for sure three days ago. Before that, I wasn’t confident at all.”

He placed his hand on Tao Hui’s head and said earnestly, “I wanted to talk to you properly first, but I lost my patience that day. I never properly asked you, Tao Hui, do you want to be with me? I’ll always love you. You just need to love me a little.”

Tao Hui had grown up in an orphanage, experiencing more of life’s coldness and warmth than most. Yet this was the first time she had encountered someone who loved her unconditionally.

He said she only needed to love him a little.

But I love you, Han Buji! And it’s not just a little! It’s overwhelming, enough to make me cry.

The sofa was warm from the sunlight, just like the sun-warmed sea water when she had rescued someone years ago.

Tears streamed from Tao Hui’s eyes as she threw herself into Han Buji’s arms like a pouting puppy, shaking her head and wiping her tears on his sweater.

Han Buji hugged her back, smiling as he asked, “Why are you crying? And shaking your head? Don’t want to be with me?”

“No! I’m nodding!” Tao Hui sobbed. “I want to be with you!”