Did the Movie Emperor Blow His Cover Today? - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

“Because you don’t like me enough.”

“W-what?” Tao Hui asked, her face frozen.

For a moment, she thought her ears were playing tricks on her.

Han Buji’s hand reached toward Tao Hui. The moment stretched inexplicably, long enough for her to catch the scent of his osmanthus-scented hand soap.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she recoiled backward.

Thud!

The back of her head slammed against the door behind her, sending a sharp pain through her skull. Tao Hui winced, her face contorted in pain.

She watched helplessly as Han Buji’s pale, slender hand moved past her face.

Then, the crumpled tissue in his hand whooshed into the trash can.

Han Buji turned his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I meant that your portrayal of Qing Wan doesn’t convey enough affection for Dongchuan.”

Tao Hui pressed both hands to the back of her head, her expression blank.

Oh, right. For a moment there, I thought you’d lost your mind and were about to corner me in the bathroom.

“Otherwise,” Han Buji rested his hand on the doorknob and glanced sideways, “what did you think I meant?”

Even if Tao Hui could borrow a pig’s hide as a mask, she couldn’t bring herself to utter the narcissistic thought, “I thought you were going to corner me.” Instead, she forced a dry laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “N-nothing.”

Tao Hui and Han Buji emerged from the restroom together, Tao Hui’s mind still mulling over Han Buji’s words.

He was right. Her portrayal of Qing Wan hadn’t conveyed sufficient affection for Dongchuan, leaving her unable to capture the character’s internal conflict.

It seemed that when she returned, she needed to not only review her own script but also thoroughly study Third Prince Dongchuan’s scenes to better understand the emotional connection between the characters.

Lost in thought about the script, Tao Hui walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Han Buji across the film set, oblivious to their proximity.

She also failed to notice a fleeting glimpse of fabric as they rounded a corner.

Tao Hui’s scene had required six retakes. The more nervous she became, the worse her performance grew, and the more determined she was to prove herself.

She had fallen into a vicious cycle of tension, poor performance, and heightened anxiety.

The repeated fight scenes had soaked her voluminous ancient costume in sweat. The gauze-wrapped burn on her arm felt stifling. She subtly stretched her arm and winced discreetly during a makeup touch-up.

Nearby, Han Buji suddenly frowned, startling the stylist who was adjusting his hair crown. “Did I pull too hard?”

“No, please continue,” Han Buji said politely, as if the deep “川” character that had creased his brow moments ago was merely a makeup artist’s illusion.

By the seventh NG, Director Chen’s expression had soured. Without waiting for the clapperboard, he raised his hand. “Cut! Tao Hui, come here.”

Tao Hui shuffled over to Director Chen like a schoolchild caught daydreaming in class, her head bowed. “I’m sorry, Director Chen. I’m a little nervous.”

The assistant director and screenwriter tried to smooth things over. The screenwriter carefully offered, “Tao Hui, Qing Wan’s character is indeed psychologically complex and difficult to portray. Your appearance perfectly matches her temperament, but you need to delve deeper into her inner world.”

The screenwriter’s words did little to ease Tao Hui’s anxiety. Director Chen was notoriously strict, and she bit her lip nervously, bracing herself for the coming storm.

When Director Chen finally spoke, Tao Hui instinctively clenched her damp palms. As expected, he said, “Do you think you got lucky getting into this production?”

Indeed, I did.

Tao Hui’s bowed head shifted almost imperceptibly.

“Naive!” Director Chen snapped.

Director Chen, a man in his fifties, looked every bit the strict disciplinarian. His stern expression only amplified his imposing presence. Tao Hui trembled slightly, slowly raising her head, biting her lip to suppress any sound.

Director Chen slammed his large teacup onto the table with a loud thud. The room fell into pin-drop silence.

Tao Hui heard him sigh. “My productions don’t cast unsuitable actors just to fill roles. Let go and act freely. Here, you are Qing Wan.”

A good director understands how to motivate their actors—not through relentless criticism, nor through blind flattery. Director Chen’s brilliance lay in his ability to tailor his approach to each individual.

“Here, you are Qing Wan.”

Tao Hui hadn’t expected such words. A wave of emotion washed over her, her nose stinging with gratitude. After a moment to compose herself, she whispered, “I understand.”

She realized she had been too tense, too cautious. The fear of squandering this hard-won opportunity had backfired, making her hesitant and timid in front of the camera.

“Go now. Have Writer Li explain Qing Wan and Dongchuan to you again. Take a half-hour break before we resume.” Director Chen waved dismissively, then suddenly looked up. “Today, can you show me the real Qing Wan?”

So I wasn’t just here to fill a quota. Director Chen truly believed in me.

Tao Hui nodded firmly, her voice resolute. “I can do it.”

The screenwriter smiled and pulled Tao Hui closer. “Then let’s go over Qing Wan’s psychological journey again.”

“Dongchuan and Qing Wan share similar childhoods. Both were exploited by their families as tools for climbing the ladder of power. If they weren’t on opposite sides, they would at least be kindred spirits. That’s where their mutual attraction begins…” The screenwriter slowly explained to Tao Hui.

When filming resumed, Tao Hui had fully composed herself. She wasn’t just acting as Qing Wan; she was Qing Wan.

Dongchuan snatched the White Jade Sword from Qing Wan’s hand, causing her to stumble and fall into his arms.

The camera focused intently on Qing Wan’s face, capturing the shock of the sudden fall, the embarrassment of being held by Dongchuan, and the frustration of a skilled assassin being outmatched.

Her slightly widened eyes, flushed ears, furrowed brow, even the trembling of her eyelashes and the sudden tension in her jawline—every detail finally revealed the contradictory nature of Qing Wan.

The assistant director clapped his hands. “Cut! Excellent! Tao Hui, well done!”

Tao Hui glanced at Director Chen, who was holding his teacup, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

The tension that had gripped her all morning finally dissipated. Smiling, she bowed to the crew in gratitude.

As she passed Han Buji, she heard him say, “Not bad.”

Startled, Tao Hui turned back, but only caught a glimpse of his retreating figure.

Wow, even the Best Actor can give compliments!

Regardless, Han Buji was the Best Actor. Having her performance acknowledged by both Director Chen and the Best Actor made Tao Hui forget her exhaustion. She bounced excitedly toward the dressing room.

“Sister Huihui, you were amazing! I even recorded a video of your scene!” Miao Miao leaned against the dressing room door, waving her phone eagerly.

Once Tao Hui entered, Miao Miao closed the door, her disappointment evident. “But… why didn’t you knock Movie Emperor Han down again?”

Tao Hui gritted her teeth. “Isn’t embarrassing myself once enough?! What’s there to be proud of? A petite actress like me using her weight to topple a 186cm man? I’m not a sumo wrestler!”

Miao Miao, who was rolling up Tao Hui’s sleeve to help unwrap her bandage, grinned. “Give me one chance to knock down the Best Actor, and I’d gladly become a sumo wrestler.”

After all, her assistant was Han Meimei. Tao Hui sighed, deciding not to argue with her.

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed Miao Miao’s phone to review the footage and identify areas for improvement.

Her expression in the video was indeed unnatural. No wonder Director Chen was dissatisfied. This led to her sixth NG.

Miao Miao, that brain-dead fan of Han Buji, continued filming even after her idol’s NG.

And what was she filming? Han Buji getting his makeup retouched!

Just as Tao Hui was about to close the video, Han Buji suddenly turned his head and frowned deeply.

Tsk, men on their period are so moody! Tao Hui thought irritably.

Then she realized with a jolt—Han Buji was frowning in her direction!

Why was he frowning? Was it because she had caused six NGs?

How could he be so impatient yet still tell her she was “doing well”?

Hah! I knew it!

Han Buji would never genuinely praise her. It was all for his gentlemanly image!

That afternoon, Tao Hui had no scenes to shoot and practiced her lines alone in a corner.

She was so engrossed in her practice that she didn’t notice Xu Chang standing behind her. Gripping a broom like a sword, she suddenly whirled around, her makeshift weapon aimed squarely at Xu Chang’s grinning face.

Xu Chang clutched his chest. “Ugh, I’ve been struck by an arrow! This coffee… it’s yours!” He handed her the cup.

Tao Hui paused, then smiled. “When did you get here? Thanks.”

“Just now. No need to be polite. My assistant bought too much coffee. I saw you practicing alone and thought you could use a pick-me-up.” Xu Chang cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered conspiratorially, “Brother Han took your morning cup, right? Guard this one carefully, or he’ll snatch it again!”

Tao Hui didn’t actually drink coffee, but Xu Chang was a senior member of the crew. She accepted the cup and joked, “Next time my assistant buys too much of something, I’ll bring it to you too?”

They chatted for a few minutes. Xu Chang was just finishing a funny story about a filming mishap when Tao Hui suddenly heard a deep voice behind her, “What’s so amusing?”

Tao Hui froze, coffee in hand, her neck stiff. Han Buji’s insincere “Good performance” flashed through her mind. She turned her head, pretending not to hear.

Xu Chang, oblivious, turned around cheerfully. “Brother Han! I was just telling Huihui about Teacher Jiang’s epic faceplant the other day. Hahaha!”

Huihui?

Han Buji glanced at Huihui, who was pretending not to see him, and the coffee in her hand. Suddenly, he swayed weakly and steadied himself against the nearby table.

“Brother Han! What’s wrong?” Xu Chang exclaimed, startled. “Are you too tired?”

Tao Hui turned her head in confusion. Is this how weak you get when you’re on your period?

Han Buji wiped the sweat from his forehead and spoke slowly, “Probably low blood sugar. I suddenly feel dizzy. Something sweet would help.”

As he said this, his gaze lingered on Tao Hui’s coffee cup, which clearly displayed “Sugar x2.”

Tao Hui: “……”

Forcing a fake smile, Tao Hui thrust the coffee at him through gritted teeth. “Here, you drink it.”

Han Buji took the paper cup from her hand and nodded politely. “Thank you. I’ll treat you next time.”

No need! Just stay away from me—that’s all I want!

Tao Hui was still seething when her phone suddenly vibrated on the table.

Caller ID: Miao Miao

It’s only a two-minute walk from the break room. That girl’s getting lazier by the day!

Tao Hui answered the phone, but before she could speak, Miao Miao’s booming voice erupted from the other end, “Sister Huihui! It’s bad! Quick, check Weibo! You’re trending!”

Author’s Note:

Tao Hui: Oh.