Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Han Buji was indeed furious. As a company owner himself, he knew that Unruly Entertainment’s popularity stemmed partly from its unwavering support for its artists during crises, prioritizing their well-being over short-term gains from trending topics. Beyond his Best Actor title, netizens had even nicknamed him “Han the Protector.”

Even marketing accounts hesitated to fabricate stories about Unruly Entertainment’s artists.

But Tao Hui’s company operated differently. Instead of resolving the matter through phone calls or internal meetings among senior management, they insisted Tao Hui personally visit their office. The journey between her home and the company spanned two districts and took at least an hour, even without traffic—a clear stalling tactic.

Han Buji glanced at the bright red apple in his hand, clearly carefully chosen by Tao Hui, its sweet fragrance faintly lingering in the air.

He placed the apple on the passenger seat and patted Tao Hui’s head. “We’ll share this tonight,” he said, before driving out of the underground garage.

Tao Hui sat in the back seat, clutching the apple. Through the rearview mirror, she could see his lips pressed into a thin line and his jaw clenched tight, radiating a fierce intensity.

In that moment, a flood of memories washed over her.

She remembered when her classmates had thrown her schoolbag into a ditch as a child. When she told Dean Sister someone was bullying her, she was met only with a disapproving glare at her waterlogged textbooks.

She recalled the rumors spread by classmates in school—that her beauty meant her mother must be a fox spirit, that she was abandoned because she was the daughter of a mistress. Little Tao Hui trembled with anger and went to the teacher to complain, only to be asked, “Why can the other children get along, but you’re always being ostracized?”

She remembered the phone call from a production crew: “We’re sorry, but we’ve cast a new actress who’s a better fit for the role.” That day, her former assistant told her, “I’m sorry, Tao Hui. I want to make money too, and I want to travel abroad to events and make a name for myself. You’re struggling too much; I can’t stay with you.”

Zhou Xun had once praised her optimistic nature, but in truth, she had also yearned for a hero to descend from the heavens—a legendary figure who would beat up the bullies who stole her backpack, retort to those who scolded her, and stand by her side, whether she was destined for glory or destined to fall.

But the more she hoped, the more she was disappointed. And as disappointment piled upon disappointment, she eventually stopped hoping altogether, silently repeating to herself, “Don’t be afraid, Tao Hui. Rabbit fur meat, A-Zi, goose-take-marsh-day.”

Fortunately, on this Christmas Eve at 21, as she sat in the back of the car, she could see Han Buji’s strong arm. Tao Hui thought, I think I’ve finally found my hero.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Gao Meng:

[ Rabbit, hang in there! Manager Wu said the boss is going to back you up! Our boss is amazing—there’s nothing he can’t do! The company executives are all in a meeting about your situation right now. Don’t worry, Rabbit, we’re all supporting you! ]

A warmth spread through Tao Hui’s chest. She glanced at Han Buji, who was wearing wireless earbuds and talking to Wu Yue on the phone while driving, and replied to Gao Meng with a lighthearted message:

[ I’m fine, really, don’t worry. Your boss is acting so fierce right now, like he’s about to storm our company. ]

Gao Meng typed back quickly:

[ No way 0.0! Manager Wu once said he’d never seen our boss lose his cool. (Rumor has it he didn’t even have a rebellious phase in adolescence!) The angriest he gets is just giving people the cold shoulder during negotiations. I always thought our boss was the “reason and logic” type. [scratching head] ]

Just as Tao Hui finished reading the message, she heard Han Buji’s cold, swaggering voice say to Wu Yue, “Meet me at the entrance of High-End. Have Zhou Xun come down to escort us up. Tell him Tao Hui’s backup has arrived. Today, anyone who tries to stop us gets a beating.”

Tao Hui: “……”

This is what they call “never having a rebellious phase”? Reason and logic my ass.

Han Buji and Tao Hui met Wu Yue and the others at the foot of the company building. With Zhou Xun leading the way, the group marched into High-End Entertainment, unimpeded.

Tao Hui sat in a small, empty conference room. Han Buji leaned against the table, patted her head, and said softly, “Be good and wait here. Once I’ve sorted things out, I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Tao Hui asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Han Buji smiled. “With both companies backing you, there’s no reason it won’t.”

Liu Jia, the current boss of Tao Hui’s agency, High-End Entertainment, was notorious in the industry for his stinginess, opportunism, and exploitative practices—earning him the nickname “Zhou Bapi” (after the infamous fictional landlord). Though lacking talent himself, Liu Jia had been born into privilege, inheriting the company from his formidable father, Liu Lingjin, the founder of High-End Entertainment.

Liu Lingjin was a hundred times more capable than his spendthrift son. A visionary with keen insight, he had personally scouted and signed the sixteen-year-old Tao Hui. Tragically, Old President Liu’s health deteriorated rapidly after Tao Hui joined the company. Within six months, he was paralyzed and required constant care, leaving Young President Liu in charge.

This “Young President Liu” was a pale imitation of his father. The company’s profits barely covered his own extravagant spending, forcing him to beg his grandfather for funds to pay employee salaries.

At that moment, Liu Jia was lounging in his executive chair, legs crossed and polished leather shoes tapping rhythmically. He scrolled through Tao Hui’s trending topics on his tablet, his eyes gleaming with predatory interest.

The more the company’s artists trended on social media, the more popular the company became. Even negative publicity was still publicity, and Liu Jia refused to let any opportunity for attention slip by. Even if Tao Hui was being mercilessly criticized online, all they needed to do was release a statement later—whether anyone believed it or not was irrelevant.

In fact, he secretly hoped some would believe it while others wouldn’t, stirring up a heated debate that would further amplify the buzz.

“Young President Liu,” his secretary said, holding up a file, “Tao Hui is still young, barely in her early twenties. The online abuse is so vicious… do you think she might…”

“Tsk tsk,” Liu Jia scoffed, “Being a celebrity requires a strong mental fortitude. It’s a mandatory skill. Go get me a coffee!”

Less than two minutes after the secretary left, the door to Liu Jia’s office was kicked open with a deafening crash. The force sent Liu Jia sliding off his chair in shock. He scrambled to his feet, cursing, and managed to shout, “Who’s there?!” before the words froze in his throat, unable to escape.

Han Buji didn’t even glance at Liu Jia as he pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

Wu Yue opened the laptop he was holding, revealing a video of Liu Jia gambling. “I wonder if Old Master Liu would be interested in seeing this,” Wu Yue said.

To strike a snake, strike its vital spot. Liu Jia’s greatest fear was his grandfather, and his biggest weakness was his gambling addiction. Han Buji had seized both perfectly.

Liu Jia didn’t know if his grandfather would want to see the video, but he knew his uncle had his leg broken by his grandfather for gambling debts and was still bedridden in the sanatorium with his father.

Liu Jia sank back into his chair, forcing a nervous smile. “President Han, what brings you here today?”

Han Buji’s face remained cold and impassive. When he was in a good mood, he was the epitome of a gentleman, but when he frowned, his presence was overwhelming.

After a few seconds of silence, Liu Jia couldn’t help but tremble. Standing beside Wu Yue, Zhou Xun secretly cheered, mentally giving his “son-in-law” a thumbs-up for his formidable aura.

A few minutes later, Wu Yue’s phone buzzed. “Boss,” he said to Han Buji, “someone’s been pushing this down. They suddenly stopped suppressing the trending topics, and it’s dropped out of the top 25. Could they have run out of money?”

Han Buji frowned, as if deep in thought, making Liu Jia tremble even harder. Before Han Buji could speak, a knock came at the door. It cracked open, and a head with a high ponytail cautiously peeked in—Tao Hui.

Liu Jia watched in disbelief as the formidable presence across from him suddenly vanished, replaced by a gentle smile. Han Buji’s voice, like the first melt of an Arctic glacier, broke the silence with his first words since entering the room: “What brings you here? Worried?”

Liu Jia: “?”

“Not at all,” Tao Hui said, holding a disposable paper cup from which wisps of steam curled upward. She handed it to Han Buji. “I brought you some hot water.”

After handing him the cup, Tao Hui glanced at Liu Jia, covered her mouth with her hand, leaned close to Han Buji’s ear, and whispered, “I was a little worried about you. Our boss is a real piece of work—rude and nasty. I was afraid he’d yell at you.”

“……?!” Liu Jia’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at his own artist, who was clearly siding with the enemy. The hell? I heard every word! he thought furiously.

Han Buji chuckled softly and offered Tao Hui his chair, standing beside her.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten with Tao Hui’s arrival. Liu Jia, remembering he couldn’t appear too weak in front of his employee, and realizing his artist had already aligned herself with the Best Actor, decided to play along. “Tao Hui, you see? The company was planning to spend money on trending topics for you, but President Han beat us to it.”

Liu Jia chuckled awkwardly and cupped his hands in a gesture of respect toward Han Buji. “How embarrassing! Our own artist needed President Han’s intervention. Sigh, it seems our efficiency still leaves much to be desired. If there’s a next time, I’ll sell everything I own to bury Tao Hui’s trending topics myself. We wouldn’t need President Han to personally handle it…”

Before Liu Jia could finish his spiel, Zhou Xun, who was holding his phone, spoke up: “This isn’t good.”

Just as Tao Hui’s previous trending topics were removed, new ones surged to the top:

1. Tao Hui’s Sugar Daddy Withdraws Trending Topics
2. Tao Hui’s Boyfriend
3. Tao Hui’s Neck Kiss Mark

Their opponents were relentless, clearly determined to destroy Tao Hui’s reputation.

Marketing accounts had even published a damning article, analyzing how Tao Hui, an ordinary student, suddenly debuted at 16, won two awards at 18, and survived her infamous stunt with Han Buji without being blacklisted. Despite the scandal, she continued to secure endorsements from international cosmetics brands and land roles in television dramas, all thanks to her powerful sugar daddy.

Liu Jia, who had just boasted that he would “break the bank to bury Tao Hui’s trending topics,” was stunned. He hadn’t expected her trending topics to surge so quickly. After a long pause, he managed to squeeze out a single sound: “Uh…”

Han Buji didn’t even glance at Liu Jia. He slammed his phone face down on the table to prevent Tao Hui from seeing the vitriol below.

Now wasn’t the time to throw money at the trending topics. The more they tried to bury it, the more suspicious it would look. Han Buji pinched his chin, thought for half a minute, and then said, “Wu Yue, do we have any dirt on rival celebrities? Something big? Let’s leak it to divert attention. If one isn’t enough, use two. Deploy the company’s online trolls to stir up drama, and get some big-name influencers to amplify the narrative…”

Tao Hui had told him her birthmark couldn’t be exposed. Han Buji recalled her words: “I’m sorry, Han Buji… If I could choose again, I’d probably still stay silent. I’m a coward, I’m afraid of the trouble my birthmark’s exposure would bring… I’m so sorry…”

Han Buji didn’t know who she was protecting herself from, but as long as she didn’t want it revealed, he would stand in front of her and shield her.

Han Buji was still instructing Wu Yue when Tao Hui tugged at his sleeve, her lower lip already bearing the marks of her teeth. Her voice trembled with worry, tinged with a sob as she pleaded, “Han Buji, stop spending money. What if you can’t afford to marry me later?”

Han Buji froze, then chuckled. “What are you worried about? Your boyfriend can afford this little bit.”

This little bit… this… little?!

The others in the room maintained impassive expressions. “…Oh.”

Tao Hui slowly removed her scarf, her eyes rimmed with red, but her voice remained firm. “Han Buji, it’s no use. Every day, people will criticize me. Every day, they’ll question who my so-called ‘sugar daddy’ is. I don’t want the day we announce our relationship to come, only for someone to point at me and say, ‘Oh, that’s Tao Hui—the one her sugar daddy dumped. Now she’s clinging to Han Buji’s coattails.'”

As she spoke, Zhou Xun turned his head, pressed his fingers against his eye sockets, and forced back his tears.

The internet owed Tao Hui so much. She never fought for attention, yet she approached every job with more dedication and enthusiasm than anyone else. Simply because someone fabricated rumors, simply because others spread lies, simply because of keyboard warriors and their irresponsible words, she had to step forward and offer an explanation to everyone.

Even though she had done nothing wrong.

“—And then you’ll get dragged too. I don’t want that,” Tao Hui finished.

This was Tao Hui’s real worry. Back when she faced even worse abuse, she had considered that if she had to do it again, she still wouldn’t reveal her birthmark to clear her name, because she was terrified of that person finding her.

But now she had Han Buji. She couldn’t let her boyfriend get dragged down with her.

It’s okay, Tao Hui. Everything will be alright. Rabbit fur meat, A-Zi, goose-take-marsh-day! (tomorrow is another day!)

Tao Hui gently tugged on Han Buji’s sleeve, like a child asking for attention. She pointed to the birthmark on her neck, tilted her head, and smiled. “Boyfriend, record a video for me. Tell those clueless fools that this mark on my neck is from an angel’s kiss before I was born.”