Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Tao Hui’s biological father, who claimed his name was Zhang Ming, sent her a photo of her birth mother—the same group photo Tao Hui had received years ago.

In the photo, Zhang Ming appeared young and lean, with a high-bridged nose and deep-set features, radiating vitality. The woman beside him smiled shyly, her eyes almost identical to Tao Hui’s.

If Tao Hui were seeing this photo for the first time, she would have jumped with excitement and joy, perhaps even losing sleep over it.

After all, that’s exactly how she had reacted when she first saw the photo in a missing person’s ad at age eleven.

Zhang Ming sent lengthy messages, written in crude, colloquial language riddled with typos.

He claimed his wife, Li Ting, had abandoned their child out of selfishness, unwilling to raise a child. He insisted he had been heartbroken for years and had never stopped searching for Tao Hui.

The message was written with such apparent sincerity that it almost seemed genuine. Yet Tao Hui remained expressionless throughout, too indifferent even to show contempt.

She hadn’t forgotten the feeling of a rough, scarred hand gripping her wrist, or the moment she touched her birth mother’s blood-soaked hair and the uneven, scabbed skin beneath. Nor had she forgotten the words: “Don’t come back. Don’t try to live this life of daily beatings, curses, and selling your body.”

This “father yearning for his daughter” was a devil in human skin.

Ugh, God, how terrifying.

Just as she was thinking this, another message arrived on her phone:

[ When you were little, I named you Zhang Baozhu, meaning “pearl in the palm.” Baozhu, Dad wants to see you. Now that you’re famous, you won’t look down on your old man, will you? ]

No, I should be thanking you, right?

Zhang Baozhu? What a beautiful name! I absolutely love it!

Tao Hui stared wide-eyed at the string of “affectionate” messages, then turned to Han Buji beside her. “Is he putting on a show for me? I’m an actress, you know.”

Han Buji, who had been holding Tao Hui’s shoulder, felt deeply for her. Even in the most ordinary families, children grew up under their parents’ protection. Growing up in an orphanage was already hard enough, and now her biological parents turned out to be like this.

Seeing Tao Hui still able to joke around, Han Buji breathed a small sigh of relief and ruffled her hair. “What do you want to do?”

Tao Hui lowered her gaze, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to avoid him. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t even know if he’s still using drugs. And I can’t exactly call the police.”

Though she didn’t voice it or show it on her face, Tao Hui was inwardly anxious. She genuinely didn’t know how to face her biological father. No matter how she thought about it, the topic felt heavy. The man who had haunted her nightmares was someone she shared blood with.

To say she wasn’t conflicted would be a lie.

Han Buji pondered for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “Girlfriend, why don’t you challenge him to an acting competition?”

“Huh?” Tao Hui blinked, surprised. “An acting competition?”

“Yeah, invite him to Beijing,” Han Buji said with a grin. “Leave the rest to me. Trust me.”

Tao Hui stared into Han Buji’s smiling eyes, paused, then her own eyes curved into a smile. She clapped her hands. “Alright then, I’ll play Zhang Baozhu, the girl who misses her parents so much she’s practically depressed.”

The following days were busy for Tao Hui. She discussed the script with Director Lu, played games with Han Buji, and engaged in acting battles with her drama-queen biological father.

One morning, Tao Hui lay basking in the early sunlight, reading a book titled Daily Care and Training for Dogs.

The book read: “Dogs are highly sensitive. During the first week of bringing a dog home, even minor incidents can cause extreme anxiety or even trigger a stress response. Owners must be patient and speak in a gentle tone…”

Tao Hui stared at the sentence, pressed the WeChat voice message button, held the phone to her mouth, and began to act with a saccharine smile: “Dad, when are you coming to Beijing? I’m afraid I’ll be joining the production crew soon and won’t have time to see you.”

She paused, letting out a timely sigh, and continued in a voice that seemed to suppress tears: “Dad, it’s New Year’s Day today.”

With that, Tao Hui released the button, sending the voice message. She turned to Han Buji, who had just come out of the bathroom, and said, “You really picked a great book. It’s given me a profound understanding of how to communicate with dogs.”

Han Buji smiled. “As long as you’re happy.”

A WeChat notification pinged. Tao Hui tapped it open, and Zhang Ming’s raspy voice filled the room: “Baozhu, Dad doesn’t have enough money for a plane ticket. Train tickets are hard to get this close to the holidays, and flights are so expensive. It’s not that I don’t want to see you. Just wait a little longer. I’ll come visit as soon as I save up enough.”

Tao Hui stared at her phone with a “what the fuck” expression, pointing at the screen. “Could my acting skills really be inherited from this man?”

If Tao Hui hadn’t personally witnessed Zhang Ming’s drug-addled, lifeless eyes and ashen complexion, and hadn’t heard him spew vulgar, vile insults with her own ears, she might have almost believed he was the kind, meek father he pretended to be.

Tao Hui rolled her eyes, refusing to back down. She took a deep breath and pressed the voice call button. “Dad, what are you talking about? I’ll transfer you the money for a plane ticket. Even though I bought a place in Beijing and I’m not exactly rich, I can still afford a plane ticket for you!”

Han Buji leaned against the doorframe, watching Tao Hui enjoy herself and letting her have her fun.

After her dramatic showdown with Zhang Ming, Tao Hui felt lighthearted and stretched languidly. Gazing at the sunlight streaming through the window, she squinted. “What perfect weather. It really feels like New Year’s Day.”

Wait, New Year’s Day?

Wasn’t there something special about today? What was it?

With Han Buji by her side, even if the sky were to fall, it wouldn’t seem like a big deal. Tao Hui had been living so carefree lately that she’d momentarily forgotten what she’d forgotten.

It wasn’t until she saw Han Buji dressed and ready to go, leaning against the doorframe with a smile, that he said, “Let’s go, girlfriend. We’ll go on a date first, and then my parents are taking you out to dinner tonight.”

Tao Hui stood up in shock, the Daily Care and Training for Dogs book falling from her trembling hands with a thud. Her eyes glazed over as she stammered, “What… what did you say?”

“Dinner at my place,” Han Buji reminded her casually. “I made reservations in advance.”

Before he could finish speaking, Tao Hui darted into the bathroom like a whirlwind, shrieking, “Give me an hour! I need to get ready! Yes, yes, I need to prepare!”

It was her first time visiting her boyfriend’s family, and she couldn’t possibly arrive empty-handed. Even if they didn’t need anything, etiquette demanded she bring a gift.

Standing under the shower, Tao Hui frowned in thought. Her hand brushed against Han Buji’s cedarwood and sandalwood shower gel. The sandalwood scent seemed particularly strong, calming her racing thoughts.

Suddenly, she remembered when she had earned her first fortune in the entertainment industry years ago. Zhou Xun had dragged her to a temple to pray for peace and safety, buying a string of Buddhist prayer beads to keep at home. Since then, she had returned to the temple to worship every year.

Why not get a pair of peace amulets for Uncle and Auntie?

With this idea, Tao Hui’s mind was made up.

“Han Buji, I’m going to Guangji Temple!” she announced loudly through the dressing room door after getting ready.

Han Buji raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to the temple for?”

Tao Hui, still dressing, blurted out without thinking, “To become a nun.”

The moment the words left her lips, the door swung open. Han Buji leaned against the frame, a half-smile playing on his lips as he repeated, “Become a nun.”

Before she knew Han Buji well, she had no idea this guy was the Little Fanboy she gamed with every day. Back then, Tao Hui had naively assumed that both Han Buji and Little Fanboy’s habit of repeating others’ words—their unpredictable moods—was just their “male period.”

Later, when Han Buji’s identity was revealed, Little Fanboy merged into one person.

Recalling their past conversations, Tao Hui realized that when he repeated her words, it wasn’t usually his “male period” acting up—it was more likely he was displeased.

Just like now, Han Buji leaned against the door, his expression clearly indicating his mood wasn’t exactly sunny.

“I was just joking,” Tao Hui said, fawningly grabbing Han Buji’s arm and swaying it back and forth, her voice sweet as honey. “Best Actor Han, Teacher Han, Boyfriend, Gege! Please? Come with me. I really want to go to Guangji Temple.”

Han Buji lowered his gaze to the girl before him. She wore a milk-white, fitted wool dress that accentuated her slender waist, the fishtail hem adding a touch of adorable charm. Her hair was styled in a small bun atop her head, revealing her snow-white swan neck as she pleaded with him.

Who could resist this?

Especially when, the moment he moved, the little girl stood on tiptoe and planted a loud kiss on Han Buji’s cheek.

The Best Actor relented, patting Tao Hui’s head with a helpless sigh. “…Alright, let’s go. We have just enough time.”

Han Buji thought to himself, Thank goodness I just run an entertainment company. If I were an emperor in ancient times, I’d probably be a fickle ruler, changing decrees at whim. I might even be the kind of monarch who stops holding morning court altogether.

They drove to Guangji Temple. Upon arrival, Tao Hui didn’t let Han Buji enter, instructing him to wait in the car.

As she stepped into the temple, the heavy scent of incense stilled Tao Hui’s playful mood. She bowed reverently at each altar along the way.

Finally, she knelt before the Buddha statue and whispered, “I used to only come here when life felt rough. My manager told me, ‘Sincere prayers are answered.’ Maybe you heard my heartfelt wishes and sent me a hero. Today, I’ve come to express my gratitude.”

Zhou Xun was a devout Buddhist. Though Tao Hui didn’t copy scriptures as often as he did, she still cherished the temple’s serene atmosphere. Whenever she felt down and had no one to confide in, she would join Zhou Xun on his temple visits.

“Sincere prayers are answered” was Zhou Xun’s mantra, but Tao Hui’s prayers were usually quite different from others’.

It wasn’t about seeking peace, joy, and smooth sailing in all endeavors, nor about wishing for robust health and perfect fulfillment.

Tao Hui felt a little embarrassed. Here she was, the Nation’s First Love, a female celebrity renowned for her stunning looks, visiting temples daily to pray for… a good boyfriend.

She touched her nose and chuckled, muttering, “Maybe I’ve been asking you for a good match every time I come, and you’re tired of me. You’re just trying to give me someone decent to get rid of me sooner, huh? Heh heh…”

After bowing three times, Tao Hui looked up. The golden Buddha statue seemed to be curving its lips into a faint smile through the swirling incense smoke.

She recalled that year when she was eighteen, mentally cursing “Han Buji, you career disaster!” Yet, the very night after praying for a good match at the temple, she dreamed of a pair of languid phoenix eyes.

Perhaps, even then, she hadn’t consciously realized that the match she had been praying for all along was Han Buji himself.

After waiting in line to obtain a pair of peace charms, Tao Hui finally went to find Han Buji.

Weaving through the crowd of worshippers, past the swirling incense smoke and the chanting of Sanskrit scriptures, she emerged to find Han Buji leaning against the car, wearing a mask and staring down at his phone. His fingertips were reddened by the winter wind, but his expression showed not a hint of impatience.

As if sensing her presence, he looked up and met her gaze.

Tao Hui gazed into Han Buji’s eyes, grinned, and dashed toward him. She tripped over a protruding brick and tumbled into his arms, exclaiming cheerfully, “Boyfriend, sorry to keep you waiting!”

Han Buji steadied her, his voice tinged with exasperation but overflowing with affection. “You’ve already waited this long. A few more seconds wouldn’t have made a difference. Why the rush?”

Tao Hui laughed and hopped into the car. As she buckled her seatbelt, Han Buji asked, “Do you come to the temple often?”

“I learned it from Zhou Xun,” Tao Hui replied. “Whenever I’m feeling down, I come here to walk around and light some incense.”

Han Buji glanced at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “People come to temples seeking something. What do you pray for?”

Tao Hui didn’t hesitate. “Good fortune in love, of course!”

Han Buji, who was turning the car around, chuckled. “And today?”

“Still praying for love,” Tao Hui said deliberately. “What else would I pray for?”

Han Buji clicked his tongue in mock annoyance. “Praying for love when you already have a boyfriend? You’re too greedy. Buddha won’t grant your wish!”

In private, Han Buji spoke with a hint of Beijing dialect, his voice rising at the end of sentences, sounding particularly charming when he was jealous.

Tao Hui’s phone buzzed. As she pulled it out, she quipped, “Then I’ll just go pray to the Goddess of Fertility for a child.”

She immediately realized her mistake, but the driver beside her merely chuckled softly. “So you’re in such a hurry, huh? Alright, I get it.”

“Han Buji!” Tao Hui called out, her earlobes burning.

Han Buji chuckled, teasing her, “Why are you blushing?”

Tao Hui sputtered defensively, “I’m not blushing! It’s just your AC is cranked up too high. I’m hot!” But when she saw the message on her phone, her flushed cheeks cooled instantly. She pouted, “My biological father is something else. He’s like a natural air conditioner. They shouldn’t have call him Zhang Ming. It can be Zhang Iceberg, Zhang Chilling, Zhang Winter, anything but that!” (t/n: Ming means bright or luminous)

The message from Zhang Ming lay quietly on the screen:

[ Baozhu, Dad’s booked the flight. I’ll be there tomorrow night. ]

Baozhu, my ass.

Tao Hui’s lips twitched as she rolled her eyes. “Han Buji, didn’t you say you learned some martial arts moves from the stunt coordinator? Do you know any of those flying kicks that send people into outer space, never to return?”