After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Inside the Minghua Entertainment building, a long-silent conference room suddenly echoed with a crisp, icy male voice.
“Twenty years? Just like that?” Pei Ji curled his lips into a cold smirk as he gripped the artist contract. “Hah, is your company trying to make me sign my life away?”
“Minghua is the industry’s biggest agency, churning out countless top-tier stars,” General Xu, a balding middle-aged man, sneered, jabbing a stubby finger at Pei Ji’s nose. “For someone with no background or connections like you, we’re already doing you a favor by even considering signing you. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
General Xu’s words held a kernel of truth. In the entertainment industry, backing and connections were paramount. Though Pei Ji possessed exceptional looks and talent, he was merely a recently graduated high school student with no powerful patrons to support him.
Unfortunately for General Xu, Pei Ji had no interest in navigating the industry’s convoluted politics. He always acted according to his own principles.
Pei Ji shoved away the general’s finger, his icy gaze meeting General Xu’s without flinching. “These are predatory terms. I won’t sign them. You might as well give up now.”
Perhaps General Xu, seeing his youth, mistook him for an easy target. His gaze lingered on Pei Ji, a malevolent grin spreading across his face as he narrowed his eyes. “Well, if you’re thinking of renegotiating the contract, that’s not entirely impossible…”
General Xu slowly rose and approached Pei Ji, reaching out to caress the young man’s flawless face.
But the instant his hand lifted, Pei Ji seized his wrist and twisted it violently backward.
General Xu’s face contorted in agony, his fleshy jowls bunching together. “Agh… ow! Let go! Let go of me, you little bastard!”
Just as Pei Ji was about to dislocate his arm, he finally released the grip, his face twisted in undisguised disgust. “Trying to pressure me into a ‘private arrangement’? You should look in a mirror sometime. Even a single glance at someone like you makes me nauseous.”
“Y-you… ow!” General Xu clutched his throbbing arm, gasping for breath. He sputtered for a long moment, unable to form another word.
Minghua Entertainment was the industry’s most renowned talent agency, attracting countless aspiring artists each year. But now, Pei Ji felt that even the air here was tainted; he only wanted to escape.
Without hesitation, he hurled the heavy, predatory contract onto General Xu’s repulsive face, following it with a resounding slap.
Then, turning on his heel, he strode out without a backward glance.
As he reached the door, he left behind only four dismissive words: “I won’t sign.”
His departing figure was graceful, his tone contemptuous.
To hell with their unspoken rules. What garbage. So what if they’re a top-tier agency? I don’t give a damn.
Downstairs, his friend Kong Chuan was waiting for him. As soon as he saw Pei Ji emerge, he rushed forward. “How did it go? Did you sign the contract?”
Pei Ji’s response was curt: “No.”
“Why not?” Kong Chuan asked, baffled. “Was there some issue during negotiations? With your looks, you’re practically irreplaceable!”
“How could they possibly turn you down?”
After all, from the moment Kong Chuan first laid eyes on Pei Ji, he had thought Pei Ji was the most classically handsome man he had ever seen.
Pei Ji’s features were strikingly three-dimensional, his brows and eyes deep-set, and his bone structure exceptionally refined. Those “peach blossom eyes”—the kind that could look at a dog with soulful tenderness—added a touch of softness to his otherwise cold, handsome face. Tall with broad shoulders and long legs, his top-tier looks had once made him a regular fixture on the university’s confession wall.
Someone with looks like that? Who’d turn him down? Every talent agency in town would be clamoring for him.
“It’s not that they didn’t want me,” Pei Ji said coldly, his soulful eyes suddenly sharpening like icy arrows, sending a chill down Kong Chuan’s spine. “I didn’t want them.”
Kong Chuan didn’t understand and was about to press further when a deafening horn blared from nearby.
The next instant, a blinding glare of headlights slashed through the darkness. A black car, seemingly out of control, hurtled toward Pei Ji from his right.
The car was moving too fast. Pei Ji didn’t have time to react. His lone figure was instantly swallowed by the white glare, followed by a sharp, searing pain that plunged him into unconsciousness.
“Pei Ji—!”
“Pei Ji?”
When Pei Ji regained consciousness, his head swam. Through the haze, he vaguely heard someone calling his name.
The incoming shift doctor held Pei Ji’s medical chart, comparing the name on the chart to the slightly pale face on the bed. He muttered, “It really is you…”
As the voice grew clearer, Pei Ji struggled to open his eyes.
The man before him looked familiar, yet his features had hardened, the youthful softness replaced by a mature edge.
As the man approached, Pei Ji finally recognized him clearly.
It was Kong Chuan—still wearing a white coat, a pen clipped to his pocket—Kong Chuan, the doctor.
“You…” Pei Ji blinked, wondering if he was dreaming.
Seeing him awake, Kong Chuan gave him a perfunctory glance, his tone teasing. “Two years apart, and you don’t recognize me?”
Two years apart? But we were just strolling and chatting earlier.
Pei Ji’s mind couldn’t process the information, confusion clouding his eyes.
“Did the crash knock you silly?” Kong Chuan asked, concern flickering in his gaze as Pei Ji remained unresponsive. He leaned closer, trying to assess Pei Ji’s condition.
As Kong Chuan took a step closer, Pei Ji scrutinized him from head to toe, his brow furrowed. He opened his mouth and asked with utmost sincerity, “Didn’t you say you’d rather die than study medicine?”
He’d been wanting to ask that question ever since earlier. He really wanted to know the answer.
“……” Kong Chuan’s vision darkened momentarily, and he withdrew the hand he’d been about to use to examine Pei Ji.
“That was years ago! How do you still remember it so clearly after all this time?”
Pei Ji grew even more bewildered. “Years ago? Wasn’t that just recently?”
Kong Chuan paused, taken aback. “Just recently?”
Pei Ji nodded earnestly. “Yeah, when we graduated a few days ago.”
Kong Chuan frowned, now genuinely perplexed by Pei Ji’s words.
He and Pei Ji had lost contact two years prior, barely exchanging messages. How could they have met and talked recently?
Kong Chuan stared intently at Pei Ji for a long moment, finally noticing something was amiss.
The Pei Ji before him had eyes clear and pure, his demeanor radiant and untainted—utterly unlike someone who had been weathered by the harsh realities of society.
The last time Kong Chuan had seen Pei Ji with this kind of expression was back in high school.
Kong Chuan frowned even deeper, asking thoughtfully, “You’ve been in two car accidents. Which accident are you referring to?”
Pei Ji looked even more puzzled than him. “Two car accidents? But there was only this one, right?”
Was I really that unlucky? he wondered. To have been in two car accidents… it’s not like I was knocked unconscious by one car and then run over by another, is it?
If so, I must have some kind of luck.
Wait… Pei Ji glanced down at himself. All four limbs were intact and moved freely.
Kong Chuan’s serious expression doesn’t suggest he’s making this up.
As Pei Ji studied Kong Chuan, he noticed stubble peeking out on his chin—as if he hadn’t had time to shave. The man’s youthful vigor had been replaced by weariness. He looked less like a recent high school graduate and more like a burnt-out corporate slave.
His age and demeanor don’t match my memories at all.
A sudden realization struck Pei Ji like lightning. “How old am I now?” he asked urgently.
“Twenty-five,” Kong Chuan replied flatly.
The answer hit Pei Ji like a bolt from the blue.
Twenty-five…?! I’ve somehow leaped forward seven years?!
His youth hadn’t even truly begun, yet it was already drawing to a close. Pei Ji struggled to accept this absurd reality.
Pei Ji slowly raised a hand, pointing incredulously at himself. “I… I’m really twenty-five now?” he asked, seeking confirmation.
Kong Chuan glanced at him sideways, his expression unreadable. “What else? Did you think you’d stay eighteen forever?” he retorted, exasperated.
“Well, I was eighteen when I woke up,” Pei Ji blinked innocently.
“…” Kong Chuan’s vision went dark again.
How had the once-famous school heartthrob and academic prodigy turned into this after the accident?
“Don’t tell me you’ve traveled through time or have amnesia,” Kong Chuan warned.
“I might actually have time-traveled.”
They spoke simultaneously, then froze, startled by each other’s words.
Kong Chuan suddenly leaned in, grabbing Pei Ji’s head and turning it from side to side, muttering to himself, “This is weird. All the parts seem to be there.”
Pei Ji, still reeling from the revelation, barely noticed Kong Chuan’s actions. His mind was a chaotic storm.
So he had truly traveled seven years into the future. He was now twenty-five, with no idea how his life had turned out, whether he had thrived or fallen behind.
Pei Ji couldn’t help but feel a sudden curiosity about his future.
The quality of a person’s medical care often reflects their financial status. Pei Ji surreptitiously scanned the entire hospital room out of the corner of his eye.
The hospital room was luxurious, larger than the apartment he’d rented near school before his college entrance exams. Fully furnished with every amenity, it felt more like a presidential suite than a patient’s room.
Moreover, a whole team of medical staff hovered around him, several people attending to his every need.
The hospital he was being treated at was likely the most expensive private institution in the city.
Private hospitals burned through money like water.
Does this mean my future self is doing pretty well?
“Have I struck it rich?” Pei Ji asked incredulously.
Mentioning it only reminded Kong Chuan of the handsome man who had come to the hospital a few days earlier to pay Pei Ji’s medical bills.
Even hidden behind a hat and mask, that man’s slender, hazel eyes—the only feature visible—were so stunning they held Kong Chuan’s gaze captive. Though their corners tilted upward slightly, there was no hint of ingratiation; instead, they exuded an aloofness that made him seem cold and unapproachable.
It wasn’t until a junior nurse reminded him that Kong Chuan realized the man was Chu Tinghan, the legendary singer known for his icy demeanor.
Chu Tinghan had skyrocketed to fame upon his debut, a natural talent blessed by the heavens. Not only was his appearance one in a million—strikingly handsome with an aloof elegance—but his voice was also unique within the industry: ethereal, resonant, and utterly captivating.
It was said that Chu Tinghan was aloof and reserved. Aside from promoting his new songs and concerts, he rarely made public appearances, making it nearly impossible to persuade him to emerge from seclusion. Even the most arrogant investors had to wait patiently for him to schedule an appointment.
When the superstar suddenly appeared in the hospital, everyone else was silently screaming in excitement, but Kong Chuan felt like he’d been struck by lightning, slowly processing Chu Tinghan’s words:
“He’s been living with me for the past two years. Our relationship is quite close—you could probably call him family…”
He still remembered the shock that had gripped him at the time.
So when Pei Ji asked if he was hitting the big time, Kong Chuan’s expression instantly became indescribable.
Even though Chu Tinghan had called Pei Ji his family, how could a top-tier god-level singer possibly marry a washed-up idol suspected of having scandals and retiring from the industry?
It was likely just a convenient excuse to make their arrangement sound better.
Thus, Kong Chuan reinterpreted Chu Tinghan’s words based on his own understanding:
“Not hitting the big time.”
Pei Ji pressed, “Then what is it?”
Kong Chuan sneered at Pei Ji’s eager expression. “He’s landed a sugar daddy.”
“A sugar… a sugar daddy?!” Pei Ji stammered, stunned.
He’d just been blacklisted by a major entertainment company for refusing to play by their predatory rules.
How could I possibly stoop to something as spineless as hooking up with a sugar daddy?!
“You don’t believe me?” Kong Chuan raised an eyebrow and handed him a medical card. “Fine, proof’s in the pudding. A few days ago, your sugar daddy prepaid 300,000 yuan for your medical expenses. Go check it out if you don’t believe me.”
Pei Ji’s outstretched hand froze mid-air at the mention of “300,000 yuan.”
This money is burning hot, he thought. I don’t dare accept it.
Kong Chuan didn’t care whether he wanted it or not, forcibly pressing the card into his palm.
Clutching the 300,000 yuan medical card, Pei Ji swallowed nervously and cautiously lifted his eyelids to ask, “Then… who’s my sugar daddy?”
A domineering female boss? A greasy middle-aged man? Or a wealthy and lecherous playboy heir?
Pei Ji ran through the possible candidates in his mind, suddenly wishing he were dead.
None of them are acceptable.
Seven years ago, Chu Tinghan hadn’t yet debuted. Simply telling Pei Ji his name might not have been enough to shock him.
Kong Chuan pondered for a moment, then walked to the window and drew back the curtains. He pointed toward the distant skyscrapers.
Puzzled, Pei Ji followed his gaze.
The advertising screens on five staggered commercial buildings displayed the same message:
“Chu Tinghan, the God of Music, Global Tour, Ten-Thousand-Seat Concert…” Pei Ji extracted the key information.
Judging by his appearance, this Chu Tinghan was only three or four years older than Pei Ji himself. To hold a global 10,000-seat concert at such a young age… in the entire entertainment industry, he was undoubtedly one of the most remarkable figures.
But—
“What does this have to do with the sugar daddy I’m dating?” Pei Ji asked, genuinely confused.
Kong Chuan smirked knowingly, his expression like that of someone watching a play. “Of course it’s related. The two of you are a couple now.”
Pei Ji’s pupils contracted sharply, wondering if he was dreaming.
But Kong Chuan’s voice remained clear and strong, each word piercing his mind with undeniable precision, echoing relentlessly.
“The reigning king of the music industry, Chu Tinghan, the God of Music.”
“He’s the sugar daddy you’ve been dating.”