Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Han Buji crouched down in front of Tao Hui. “Don’t force yourself,” he said. “If you’re willing, we can publicly announce our relationship and clear up those rumors.”

“No!” Tao Hui’s eyes widened in panic. “Don’t, don’t, don’t! I’m not ready to face your tens of millions of fangirls.”

Behind them, Wu Yue and Zhou Xun quietly breathed a sigh of relief. As friends, they might have supported Han Buji’s suggestion to go public, but as managers—even Zhou Xun, who considered himself Tao Hui’s “mother”—couldn’t endorse such a move.

It sounded cool and Mary Sue-ish: Han Buji waving his hand dramatically, declaring, “I’ve claimed this entire pond of fish—Tao Hui is mine!”

But what then? The aftermath would be unprepared fans abandoning ship, turning against them, and endless days of relentless abuse. This would be disastrous for both Han Buji’s company and Tao Hui’s personal reputation.

Zhou Xun had genuinely feared they might impulsively announce their relationship. Thankfully, their cowardly artist was deeply intimidated by Han Buji’s massive fanbase—a cause for celebration.

Tao Hui and Han Buji borrowed a dressing room, didn’t call for a makeup artist, and locked everyone else out.

“I’m sorry for making you spend so much,” Tao Hui said glumly as she closed the door.

Click. Han Buji locked the door, pulled Tao Hui into his arms, and held her close.

Without a word, a hug is humanity’s most effective comfort.

Tao Hui rested her forehead against Han Buji’s chest. After a few seconds, she murmured, “Han Buji, would you like to hear a story from a long time ago?”

“Yes,” Han Buji replied. “But first, let me hold my girlfriend properly.”

Outside the locked door, Liu Jia straightened his back as soon as Han Buji left. He slammed his hand on the table and glared at Zhou Xun. “Look at this! What kind of mess is this? Zhou Xun, you’re a senior employee! Bringing outsiders to cause trouble in our own company? I’m going to hold you accountable for this!”

Wu Yue, who was packing up his laptop, suddenly looked up and glanced at Zhou Xun. “Is your contract with Tao Hui expiring soon?”

Zhou Xun’s contract was tied to Tao Hui’s. Two years ago, to secure an advertising deal for her, he had spent an entire day drinking heavily with the client, practically begging them. Just as the deal was secured, Liu Jia summoned Zhou Xun to his office and tried to give the campaign to a new rookie. Enraged, Zhou Xun had a heated argument with Liu Jia.

Back then, Liu Jia had slammed Zhou Xun’s contract down, declaring, “We’re all artists under the same company! What difference does it make who shoots it? If you’re so protective of Tao Hui, fine. But if she ever flops, you’re out too! You two better start praying she becomes famous today!”

Now, at the mention of the contract, Zhou Xun clenched his tie in fury, looking like he wanted to strangle that bastard Liu Jia.

Seeing Zhou Xun’s silence, Liu Jia smugly lifted his chin. “Manager Zhou, you need to think things through carefully.”

Wu Yue closed his laptop, glanced at Liu Jia with a smile, and said cheerfully, “President Han has been wanting to poach them. We were worried about breach of contract, but how convenient—their contracts are about to expire! What great news!”

“…P-President Han wants to poach who?” Liu Jia stammered, his confidence wavering. He’d only used the contract to intimidate Zhou Xun before. Tao Hui was making far more money than before, so why would they let her go? Especially now that she’d hooked up with the Best Actor!

Wu Yue turned back with a smile. “Tao Hui and Zhou Xun. We’re poaching both of them.”

Liu Jia’s arrogance immediately deflated, and he muttered under his breath, “We signed a priority renewal agreement. If the company wants to renew, they can’t go to another agency, or they’ll have to pay a penalty…”

“Oh,” Wu Yue said, glancing down at his phone. “The company’s account balance isn’t great—”

Liu Jia’s confidence surged back, and he straightened his posture.

“—only about 200 million left,” Wu Yue finished with a smile. “But that’s fine. President Han’s personal slush fund should still have around 300 million. We can afford it.”

Liu Jia slumped back into his chair, his mouth clamped shut.

Damn it, money talks!

Wu Yue draped an arm around Zhou Xun’s shoulder. “Let’s go have a smoke, Brother Xun.”

Zhou Xun, now protected by his son-in-law’s connections, swaggered out with Wu Yue.

Standing on the High-End Entertainment rooftop, Zhou Xun exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’m really worried about Hui’er. She’s always been so afraid to show her birthmark, terrified that he’ll find her.”

Wu Yue flicked his cigarette ash. “Who?”

Light snow drifted down from the sky, a snowflake landing on Zhou Xun’s nose. After a long pause, he whispered, “Her biological father.”

“I found my biological father when I was eleven,” Tao Hui said, smoothing her foundation and gently dabbing at the corners of her eyes to conceal the redness.

On her eleventh birthday, Tao Hui received a photograph from the Dean—a picture of a couple who might have been her parents.

The photo had been discovered by a former resident of the orphanage, now working at a newspaper. While sorting through old newspapers, she stumbled upon a missing person ad. Having grown up in the orphanage, she was particularly sensitive to such notices. The ad clearly stated that the missing child had a pink birthmark on her neck.

The woman secretly cut out the photo, brought it back to the orphanage, and told the Dean about her discovery.

After examining the picture, the Dean agreed that the woman in the photo bore a striking resemblance to Tao Hui. Moreover, the pink birthmark on the child’s neck matched Tao Hui’s own. However, when they tried calling the number listed in the ad, it had been disconnected, and the family had moved. The Dean could only present the photo to Tao Hui as her eleventh birthday gift.

Tao Hui was overjoyed. Every weekend, she would secretly take the bus into the city, hoping to find her family.

Her parents had been looking for her! They hadn’t abandoned her intentionally! Her mother wasn’t a fox spirit or a mistress! They were searching for her!

Every day, Tao Hui lived in anticipation, longing to return to her parents’ side.

One day, in the vast city, Tao Hui brushed past a middle-aged man over 180 centimeters tall. He wasn’t quite as tall and imposing as she had imagined, with deep dark circles under his eyes and a somewhat fierce gaze. Yet, she instantly recognized him as her biological father.

A mix of trepidation, shock, joy, and confusion flooded her heart. Tao Hui quietly followed him through the less bustling parts of the city, down winding streets, until they reached a dilapidated building slated for demolition.

That day, standing outside the building, she first heard shouting and cursing, followed by the sound of things being smashed, a woman’s cries and moans—all of which were both startling and unfamiliar to Tao Hui.

An elderly woman passing by heard the commotion and muttered disdainfully, “It’s starting again. Living off his wife’s prostitution, yet still gambling and drinking. What a wretched beast.”

Eleven-year-old Tao Hui, who yearned to find her family, who constantly longed for the warmth of a loving home, stood frozen as if struck by lightning.

Twilight deepened, and streetlights began to flicker on. Tao Hui stood bathed in the glow spilling from every window, watching a woman stumble out of the stairwell. A bruise darkened her forehead, and half her face was swollen.

A man’s voice suddenly startled Tao Hui from behind. She hadn’t noticed him standing there. “Hurry up! Stop dawdling,” he barked. “I’ve already paid your man. You promised to stay the night!”

The woman lowered her head in silence and brushed past Tao Hui.

“Wait,” Tao Hui blurted out.

The woman looked up in surprise. Her eyes, so similar to Tao Hui’s own, possessed a captivating shape yet shone with a startling clarity. Though her appearance was disheveled, perhaps driven by maternal instinct or perhaps by the sight of Tao Hui’s birthmark, the woman froze. Urged on by the man behind her, she hastily pulled Tao Hui into the stairwell.

“You’ve grown so much…” the woman said, tears streaming down her face.

Tao Hui sobbed, wanting to call out “Mommy,” but the woman clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m not your mother,” she whispered urgently. “Go, get out of here and never come back. Don’t let him see you. Go now…”

“But…” Tao Hui protested.

The woman suddenly grabbed Tao Hui’s hand and pressed it against her hair. The strands were wet and sticky with blood, and beneath them, Tao Hui felt the rough, uneven texture of scabs. The shock left her speechless.

“Go, just go. Don’t come back. Don’t try to live this life—being beaten and cursed every day, forced to… to sell yourself!” With that, the woman pushed Tao Hui away and hurried off without looking back.

From that day on, Tao Hui’s dreams shattered. Yet she couldn’t resist sneaking back twice more to watch from afar.

The first time, she saw the man—the man with a nose so similar to her own—kick the woman to the ground and smash a brick against her head, spewing curses Tao Hui had never heard before. Terrified, Tao Hui ran to a phone booth and called the police.

When the police arrived, Tao Hui stood at the edge of the crowd, clearly hearing the woman say, “Officer, I fell.”

The second time Tao Hui visited was some time later. She secretly bought some ointment for external injuries, wrapped a thick scarf to hide her birthmark, and crouched downstairs for half a day, but no one noticed her. An elderly woman came over and warned her, “Young lady, don’t sit here. It’s bad luck. Someone jumped to their death here just a few days ago.”

Another elderly woman clicked her tongue. “Tsk, she’s better off dead. Sooner or later, Zhang Er would have beaten her to death anyway. That man’s a real piece of trash—I heard he’s even a drug addict.”

“He’s gone mad lately,” the first woman spat. “Now that his wife’s dead and his money’s dried up, he’s been frantically searching for his daughter. All he knows is how to pimp women out.”

The second woman sneered. “If you ask me, Juanzi abandoning her daughter all those years ago was a sin. Who knows if the poor child froze to death in the dead of winter? Now they’re getting their karma. Neither of those two were ever any good…”

Tao Hui snapped out of her reverie, picked up her eyebrow pencil, and sighed, “Han Buji, I don’t know how to draw eyebrows.”

The little girl from years ago had grown into a young woman. She spoke of their past so casually, as if her furrowed brow was merely due to her inability to draw eyebrows.

It made you want to give her the world.

Han Buji didn’t call out her pretense. He walked over and gently patted her head. “I’ll help you draw them.”

“You know how to draw eyebrows?” Tao Hui looked up in surprise, watching as Han Buji draped his coat over the chair back, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves.

The way he unbuttons his cuffs is so sexy, Tao Hui thought.

Han Buji took the eyebrow pencil from her hand, knelt on one knee before her, and whispered, “Trust me.”

Tao Hui froze, stunned by his sudden gesture. It was the light touch of the pencil against her brow bone that snapped her back to reality. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she stammered, “Han Buji, y-y-you’re acting like you’re proposing!”

“Proposals aren’t this casual,” Han Buji chuckled. “I’m just trying to butter you up, win you over, and beg you to have dinner with my parents in a few days.”

“Meeting your parents?” Tao Hui suddenly opened her eyes, surprised. She asked, “Are you sure about this, Han Buji? You haven’t even seen all my flaws yet. Why are we meeting your parents already? What if you regret it later…?”

Han Buji quickly raised his eyebrow pencil to avoid poking her. He gently pinched her chin. “Stay still, sweetheart.”

Tao Hui closed her eyes again, her eyelashes trembling. “What if you regret it later?”

Instead of feeling the eyebrow pencil, she felt Han Buji’s soft lips brush against hers. He kissed the corner of her mouth, smiling. “Your biggest flaw is pretending to be strong. If I weren’t so perceptive, I’d have fallen for your little act.”

“…What act?” Tao Hui asked, indignant.

Han Buji wrapped his arms around her, gently patting her back. “Teacher Tao, don’t be sad. From now on, I’m your family. You’re so wonderful that even a lifetime together wouldn’t be enough. I want to reserve three or five lifetimes with you.”

“Do you even know how to sweet-talk?” Tao Hui asked, her voice slightly choked with emotion, teasing him. “Everyone else says ‘forever and ever.'”

He saw through my act, Tao Hui thought, burying her face in Han Buji’s arms. My acting skills still need work.

“Alright, I’d love to,” Han Buji said with a smile.

“Don’t cry, little girl. Let me see how good my eyebrow-drawing skills are,” Han Buji teased, patting her back. “Tsk, it doesn’t look very good. Why does it look like Crayon Shin-chan?”

“Han Buji!” Distracted, Tao Hui quickly lifted her head, rushing to look in the mirror before her tears could even well up.

The mirror showed her wearing light makeup, her young and beautiful face. Han Buji had effortlessly dispelled the gloom in her eyes, leaving only curiosity about whether he had made her look ugly. Her eyebrows were drawn naturally, with no resemblance to Crayon Shin-chan.

Han Buji chuckled and pinched her cheek gently. “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “Go public. No matter who comes after you, no matter what happens, I’ll be right by your side.”

“What if he gets violent?” Tao Hui asked.

“Tsk, violent? Haven’t you seen my action scenes? You fake fan,” Han Buji teased with amusement.

Tao Hui laughed, her eyes sparkling as if lit by Han Buji himself. She smiled radiantly at the mirror and handed her phone to him. “Then let’s start filming. Make sure to get my good side.”

Han Buji lowered his gaze, lost in thought.

Tao Hui didn’t notice Han Buji deliberately removing his watch and placing it on the vanity table as he stood up. With her back to the table, she saw Han Buji give her an “OK” sign and confidently began speaking:

“Hello everyone, I’m actress Tao Hui. It’s Christmas Eve, so first, Merry Christmas Eve to all! I also want to apologize for causing concern about the birthmark on my neck. Yes, it’s a birthmark that’s been with me since birth. For years, I’ve hidden it with various concealers…”

After recording the video, she posted it without any editing.

It was like someone who had always walked in the dark, finally abandoning the streetlights and finding the rising sun.

Tao Hui jumped up excitedly, hands on her hips, striking a “I’m the queen” pose. “I’m finally standing in the sunlight! I’m finally free from concealer!”

Just as she finished speaking, her phone pinged. Tao Hui glanced at the notification and abruptly turned to Han Buji.

Han Buji raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

“QAQ Han Buji! Saint-Syrlandy doesn’t want me for their ad anymore! I’ve been fired!” Tao Hui, who had been feeling triumphant for only three seconds, was now on the verge of tears.

Han Buji glanced at Tao Hui’s phone and, suppressing a laugh, patted her head. The screen read:

[ We regret to inform you, Miss Tao, that our current campaign is for the Pure Series neck cream, designed to create flawless skin. Your image doesn’t quite align with our brand… ]

Tao Hui was currently snuggling into Han Buji’s arms, too busy being affectionate to notice the internet exploding with reactions to her clarification video.

A CP fan from “No Way CP” screenshotted Tao Hui’s clarification video, hoping to identify her usual makeup products for a potential haul. But her sharp eyes spotted a corner of a men’s watch among the cosmetics.

Wait, why does that half-visible watch look so familiar?

The CP fan zoomed in countless times, finally recognizing the watch in the blurry image.

Clutching her chest, she shrieked, “Th-th-th-that’s the Best Actor’s globally limited edition watch! Oh my god! It’s Christmas! The Best Actor and Rabbit are in the same frame!”