Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Beijing was dry and dusty. The outdoor filming location buzzed with activity as crew members scurried back and forth, their fluttering clothing kicking up fine dust motes that danced in the sunlight.

“I know Han Buji’s secret!” Tao Hui whispered, her waist-length wig swaying as she tugged on Miao Miao’s sleeve. Her face, made up with a deliberately aloof expression, leaned in conspiratorially. “I think Han Buji… he’s definitely in his male period!”

“Huh?” Miao Miao’s eyes widened. “What’s a male period?”

Tao Hui patted Miao Miao’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t know, would you? They say men also have a few days each month when they’re irritable, moody, and just plain difficult—picking fights and being overly sensitive. It’s just like when we’re on our periods, except theirs is called a ‘male period (big aunt’s husband)’!” (t/n: saying big aunt implicitly means period. Here, big aunt’s husband means male period, a slang.)

“Chatting about relatives?” The Assistant Director suddenly appeared beside them, his face softening with nostalgia. “My big uncle (big aunt’s husband) was the kindest relative I had. When I was little, he always brought me a mountain of snacks whenever he visited. Now I’m fifty, and thinking about it makes me miss those days!”

Tao Hui: “……”

You… you just enjoy yourself.

Tao Hui struggled to fully understand Qing Wan’s character. The “love-hate” dynamic was too complex; she couldn’t grasp how to properly convey Qing Wan’s inner conflict.

She pored over the script again and again, reread the original novel, and even scoured online forums for character analyses of Qing Wan, yet she still felt something was missing.

When filming began that afternoon, Tao Hui suddenly grew nervous. Today’s scene required her to carry the Third Prince, who had been shot with an arrow and fainted, back to her residence.

In Peach Blossom Valley, petals drifted down like snow. Qing Wan, her eyes covered by a white silk ribbon, tended to Dongchuan’s chest wound.

Her fingertips, stained with herbal medicine, brushed against Dongchuan’s muscular back and chest, trembling slightly. Suddenly, Dongchuan’s eyes snapped open, and he seized her wrist.

His voice rasped, “Why did you save me?”

“Qing Wan does not kill the elderly, women, or children, nor does she take advantage of the vulnerable,” Qing Wan replied calmly, withdrawing her hand. “Once your wound heals, I will claim your life. Since you’re awake, tend to your own injuries.”

Dongchuan chuckled softly, a hint of mockery in his tone. “Thank you, maiden. But by the time I recover, you may find it harder to claim my life.”

A month later, Qing Wan was practicing her swordsmanship in the peach blossom forest when a figure suddenly swooped down. With a swift motion, the profound iron sword in his hand slashed past her face and plunged deeply into a peach tree. The tree shuddered under the impact, showering petals like a fragrant rain.

“It seems you’re no match for me now that I’ve recovered, Miss Qing Wan,” Dongchuan said with a smile.

Qing Wan whirled around, her sword flashing with lethal intent. Dongchuan kept one hand behind his back, parrying her attacks with the other as they clashed amidst the peach blossoms.

With a flick of his fingers, Dongchuan trapped the blade of Qing Wan’s white jade sword between two fingers. With a gentle tug, he sent the white jade sword flying to lodge itself in the peach tree, crossing blades with the profound iron sword.

Petals rained down once more as Qing Wan stumbled forward, collapsing into Dongchuan’s arms.

“Cut!” the Director called out, raising his hand. “Tao Hui, do the fall again. Your facial expression wasn’t right. Camera crew, focus on Tao Hui’s face this time—capture her expression.”

Tao Hui’s face stiffened. She jerked back from Han Buji’s embrace, took a deep breath, and replied, “Okay!”

I’m acting. I’m an actress. An actress can’t let emotions show, Tao Hui repeated silently. By the time she turned around, her face was completely blank—the detached demeanor of Qing Wan, a woman who lived by the sword.

When filming resumed, Han Buji stood with his back to the camera, allowing him to remain somewhat detached from the scene since he was primarily serving as background scenery.

Dressed in a flowing azure robe, his long, jet-black hair billowed in the wind against a backdrop of vibrant peach blossoms.

Is this what they mean by “versatility”? Tao Hui wondered. In his ancient costume, Han Buji perfectly embodied the Third Prince from the original novel—his eyes and brows carried a hint of a smile, yet radiated a resolute, decisive air.

If little Miao Miao were here, she’d probably be screaming, “Mommy, he’s so handsome! I want to marry him!” again.

“Action!”

Tao Hui instantly slipped into character, leaning forward as Han Buji smoothly drew the white jade sword from her hand.

The movement should have flowed naturally into a graceful fall into Han Buji’s arms.

But Tao Hui couldn’t shake the feeling that Han Buji’s gaze was fixed on her neck.

Has my concealer rubbed off?

Did the sweat from swinging the sword smudge my makeup?

Her anxiety stiffened her movements, causing her to collide awkwardly into Han Buji’s chest.

Then, Han Buji—a towering man standing at 186 centimeters with a chiseled eight-pack—was actually knocked off balance by her clumsy lunge.

Knocked off balance!

Thud!

The two tumbled to the ground simultaneously, Tao Hui landing on top of Han Buji, creating an awkward moment.

The photographer and production crew seemed stunned, no one calling “Cut” or offering Tao Hui a hand.

Tao Hui was equally dazed, staring wide-eyed at Han Buji.

Are those sculpted muscles of yours inflated?

Were those eight-pack abs on your poster drawn with eyeliner?

You fell over from a single pounce?

A faint smile flickered in Han Buji’s eyes as he softly reminded her, “Aren’t you going to get up?”

“Oh, right, right, right. I’m getting up now,” Tao Hui stammered, glancing up to see the photographer and crew suppressing their laughter.

After all, she was an actress, a former “Nation’s First Love”! How could she have tackled her male co-star? What did this imply?!

It meant she was fat!

She muttered under her breath, “I only weigh 89 pounds.”

“Hmm, not heavy,” the man beneath her replied.

Tao Hui climbed off Han Buji with a huff, overhearing him explain to Director Chen, “Sorry, Director Chen. I spaced out for a moment and might have thrown Tao Hui off.”

The Assistant Director handed over a tissue. “This scene is a bit long. Are you tired? Makeup artist, come touch up her makeup. We’ll take a ten-minute break and reshoot.”

Han Buji noticed a figure clutching their neck and slipping away. He raised an eyebrow slightly and said politely, “Director, I need to use the restroom.”

“Go ahead,” Director Chen nodded.

In the restroom, Tao Hui anxiously gripped Miao Miao’s arm, using her other hand to sweep her long hair aside. She tilted her chin, exposing the graceful curve of her neck and its fair skin. “Quick, check if my concealer has worn off!”

Miao Miao examined her closely. “No, it looks just as fresh as when we applied it. Sister Huihui, why are you suddenly so nervous?”

Tao Hui continued to fret over her reflection. Her neck was smooth and flawless, showing no trace of concealer. She muttered, “Strange… what was he looking at, then?”

Tao Hui was certain she hadn’t imagined it. The moment Han Buji snatched the sword from her hand, his gaze had definitely lingered on her neck—specifically, the right side where she’d applied concealer.

The faint, probing look in his eyes—was she imagining things?

Miao Miao, brimming with excitement, waved her arms wildly. “Sister Huihui, you’re incredible! You’re the woman who pinned down the Best Actor! You’ve fulfilled the dreams of millions of Han Meimeis, pinning the Best Actor beneath you! And I didn’t even record this historic moment! What a blunder!”

After rambling on without a response, Miao Miao turned to see Tao Hui still examining her neck in the mirror. She laughed heartily, “Seriously, you can’t see a thing! I told you, this concealer was brought back from abroad by Sister Xun—it’s super long-lasting!”

“Alright, you go ahead. I’ll wash my hands and be right there,” Tao Hui replied.

After Miao Miao left, Tao Hui stood alone by the sink. Two failed takes had left her feeling anxious. She kept recalling Qing Wan’s experiences, trying to build up the right emotions for the next scene.

Click. The bathroom door creaked open.

Tao Hui glanced back and saw a hand with distinct knuckles and a wide, cyan-colored sleeve.

Given the production crew’s limited resources, it was considered a luxury that the restroom wasn’t a temporary structure. Inside were two small stalls, symbolically labeled “Male” and “Female,” but the sink was shared. It wasn’t surprising to see Han Buji here.

Outside of filming, Tao Hui’s reflex upon seeing Han Buji was always to run.

The moment she moved, Han Buji moved too.

He locked the restroom door behind him, leaned against it, and slowly raised a finger to his lips.

A “shush”?

Tao Hui eyed Han Buji warily, sensing mischief behind his ambiguous smile.

Sure enough, Han Buji spoke: “Super… long-lasting?”

Tao Hui’s eyes widened in alarm. Damn it, he overheard my conversation with Miao Miao!

Summoning every ounce of her acting skill, Tao Hui felt even her award-winning performance from her 18-year-old film hadn’t been this natural.

She flicked her long hair aside, her gaze sliding inch by inch down Han Buji’s body, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Teacher Han, eavesdropping on girls’ conversations is bad manners. After all, we girls have our little secrets too—like discussing someone’s… stamina. That’s a private matter, you know.”

Tao Hui wanted to slap herself the moment she said it. Apart from holding hands with male actors during filming and dancing with boys in elementary school, she hadn’t even had a boyfriend in all these years. If Han Buji pressed her for details, what would she say?

Would three or five hours count as “long-lasting”?

Didn’t novels always mention things like “seven times a night”?

Or should she just say eight hours?

Fortunately, Han Buji didn’t dwell on the question. After giving her a thoughtful glance, he rolled up his sleeves and went to wash his hands.

Tao Hui felt like she’d been granted a reprieve and secretly exhaled in relief.

But as she watched Han Buji, her eyelid suddenly twitched.

Wait, why are you locking the door just to wash your hands? I’m still in here, Mr. Best Actor!

Tao Hui’s heart leaped into her throat, and she could already vaguely see the headline that would land her back on the trending searches:

“Shocking! Tao Hui and Best Actor Discuss Stamina in a Public Toilet!”

Warning: Second career disaster imminent!

Trembling, Tao Hui stammered, “Um, I’m done washing up. I’ll head back first.”

Han Buji didn’t even look up as he leisurely lathered his hands with soap. “Wait a moment. I’ll go with you.”

Together? Like hell! I don’t want to go with you!

Do you think we’re little sisters? Holding hands to go to the bathroom? Can’t you find your way back to the set yourself?

Tao Hui took a deep breath, desperately searching for an excuse to escape.

But Han Buji was a man with a “big period.” What if he suddenly got angry again and started scolding her?

She needed a subtle approach.

What annoys people most during their break?

Of course, it’s when someone starts talking about work!

Tao Hui’s eyes lit up. “Teacher Han! What kind of person do you think Qing Wan is? Why can’t I ever capture that sense of inner conflict?”

Ha! Annoying, right? Just wave me off and tell me to get lost!

Han Buji pulled out a tissue and turned to her. “Qing Wan’s conflict? You can’t portray it?”

“Uh…” This isn’t going as planned. Tao Hui forced a dry laugh. “Well, it’s… it’s a bit difficult.”

“Do you know why?” Han Buji slowly dried his hands with the tissue, taking deliberate steps toward Tao Hui.

“……” Tao Hui retreated a step, pressing her back against the door. She braced herself and said, “No, I don’t.”

I knew if you got any closer, my Waterloo was inevitable.

Han Buji, having dried his hands, suddenly reached out to Tao Hui. “Because you don’t love me enough.”