After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 14
Chapter 14
“Hey, Great God of Song, I moved here for your love life. What kind of reward do I get?” Zhou Yingjie teased, lounging in a rocking chair in the courtyard and stroking his dog’s furry head.
Chu Tinghan didn’t hesitate. “Name it. If it’s within my power, consider it done.”
Zhou Yingjie’s eyes widened. “Wow, you’re really generous. Okay, it’s a deal. No backing out!”
Chu Tinghan hummed in agreement. After a moment, he frowned slightly, as if remembering something. “You didn’t let Pei Ji know about the move, did you?”
“Relax. We’re not close anyway, and besides, our places are miles apart. I even told the movers to be extra careful—quiet as a mouse. He definitely wouldn’t have heard a thing. There’s no way he’d find out.” Zhou Yingjie picked up a tennis ball at his feet, aimed into the distance, and tossed it in a graceful arc. Both dogs darted off at once to retrieve it.
Lucky snatched the ball first and brought it back just as Zhou Yingjie was still patting his chest in reassurance, so engrossed he nearly missed the notification alert.
“I’m always meticulous. You can rest assured—there’s absolutely no way—oh crap!” Zhou Yingjie’s brain short-circuited as he read the message, his only thought echoing, “Oh crap!”
Hearing the sudden shift in his tone, Chu Tinghan felt a sense of foreboding and urgently asked, “What’s done for?”
Zhou Yingjie’s language function took a moment to reload. After a struggle to reboot, he muttered in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, “Impossible… What are the odds? Is he cheating?”
Chu Tinghan was utterly baffled by his ramblings. “What gibberish are you spouting?”
Zhou Yingjie’s heart sank. He forced himself to speak, “It’s just that… my move… it just so happened that… your guy… saw it.”
“And now… he’s texting me, asking why I’m moving.” Zhou Yingjie felt like he was staring death in the face, certain Chu Tinghan was about to claim his life as collateral damage for his doomed romance.
The breathing on the other end of the line faltered for a split second. Zhou Yingjie had already mentally chosen his burial site when the voice that came next was unnervingly calm: “Text him back. Tell him you’re moving to experience rural life early for your new role.”
Zhou Yingjie gripped the armrest of his lounge chair and sat up. “…Huh???”
Rural… life?
Only Chu Tinghan could come up with something like that. Why not just say he’d seen through the illusions of the world and decided to retire to the mountains?
Chu Tinghan added, “Isn’t your next film a literary drama? And you’re already living in that little courtyard at the foot of the mountain. It fits perfectly.”
Zhou Yingjie mulled it over and, surprisingly, found the logic sound.
He first posted a scenic mountain photo on his WeChat Moments, captioning it with a line from Tao Yuanming’s poem “Returning to the Fields and Gardens.” Then, as instructed by Chu Tinghan, he messaged Pei Ji.
The other man was clearly stunned by the explanation.
“Typing…” flashed repeatedly, but no message arrived, revealing Pei Ji’s struggle to find the right words.
After receiving such a bizarre reply, Pei Ji couldn’t make sense of it at all.
Zhou Yingjie moved to experience rural life?
Should he commend the Best Actor’s dedication or assume Zhou Yingjie, having reached the pinnacle of success, was retiring early?
He strongly suspected Zhou Yingjie was about to embrace a leisurely retirement of strolling with caged birds, fishing, and tending to flowers.
The reason was absurd, yet it contained a kernel of logic; the logic itself was laced with absurdity.
Still skeptical, Pei Ji waited for Chu Tinghan to return home and asked him about it again.
The reply was almost identical, leading Pei Ji to suspect they had rehearsed their explanation in advance.
Pei Ji realized he wouldn’t pry the truth out of Zhou Yingjie or Director Chu. He decided to ask the movers tomorrow. He remembered them saying tomorrow would be the last day of the move, and he wanted to try his luck one more time.
The following morning, he staked out Zhou Yingjie’s front door early. When the moving truck arrived, he charged forward eagerly.
But after only a couple of steps, someone suddenly grabbed his sleeve tightly. He turned to see Aunt Zhang.
“Little Pei, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Aunt Zhang said apologetically. “Director Chu called and said an important document for the meeting was left behind. He asked me to bring it to him, but I can’t read, so I have no idea which document he wants. You’re educated and know more about these things. Could you help me find it?”
Pei Ji hesitated. “Just a moment, Aunt Zhang. I have something to take care of first. I’ll help you find it as soon as I’m done.”
Just a few steps away, the movers were carrying furniture out of the house. Pei Ji abandoned Aunt Zhang and rushed over to them. “Excuse me,” he asked, “why is this family moving?”
This time, Pei Ji had come prepared. He had bought several bottles of water in advance and handed them to the movers with a smile. “I’m a friend of the family.”
The movers accepted the water, glanced at Pei Ji, and after a moment’s pause, one of them finally said, “We’re just paid to move things. Honestly, we don’t know the real reason. But they had several dogs, big ones, and the neighbors might have complained. Maybe that’s why they had to move.”
It wasn’t a very informative answer, but it sounded more plausible than the “rural living” theory. Pei Ji couldn’t think of any good reason to press further, so he nodded and thanked them.
“Little Pei,” Aunt Zhang pleaded, her face etched with urgency, “Director Chu is getting impatient. He’s been calling me to deliver these documents. Can you hurry and help me? I’m begging you, I can’t read a word of what’s in them.”
The furniture was almost all moved out, leaving the house empty. The movers loaded the last box into the truck, slammed the door shut, and glanced sideways to see Pei Ji still standing there, frowning and staring at the moving truck as if deep in thought.
Pei Ji was torn. He didn’t want to return empty-handed, but he also didn’t want to embarrass Aunt Zhang.
As the movers checked the truck doors, one of them casually remarked to Pei Ji, “It’s tough keeping dogs in big cities these days, especially large breeds. You have to walk them at odd hours when no one’s around. It’s so stifling.”
There was some truth to that. Zhou Yingjie’s Alaskan Malamute, though fluffy and adorable at first glance, was still massive. Its bark could be quite intimidating.
Pei Ji stood rooted to the spot, mulling over the conversation. Maybe I’m overthinking things, he reasoned. Zhou Yingjie moving now could just be a coincidence. Besides, he’s known for his dedication to his craft—it wouldn’t be surprising if he wanted to experience rural life firsthand before filming.
Perhaps it’s just been too many coincidences lately, or maybe I’m too suspicious. Either way, I keep suspecting Chu Tinghan is hiding something from me.
I don’t understand why I’ve become like this. As Chu Tinghan’s legal partner, I should trust and support him, not immediately assume he’s the problem at the slightest hint of trouble.
Blaming him instead of looking inward first—typical scumbag behavior.
“Little Pei, what are you lost in thought about?” Aunt Zhang waved her hand in front of his vacant gaze.
Pei Ji snapped out of it, forcing a smile. “Nothing. You said you needed help finding some documents? Let’s go.”
This was Pei Ji’s first time entering Chu Tinghan’s study. The room was meticulously organized, radiating a sense of calm order. Standing at the doorway, Pei Ji surveyed the space, quickly grasping its layout. He lowered his gaze to Aunt Zhang. “Which document are you looking for?”
Unable to articulate the details, Aunt Zhang showed him her chat history with Chu Tinghan.
Pei Ji glanced at it and understood. “You can go help with other tasks. I can find it myself.”
Aunt Zhang hesitated. “Alright, but bring it to me when you find it, and I’ll deliver it.”
Pei Ji waved his hand dismissively. “No need. I’m free anyway, I’ll deliver it myself.”
With that, he walked over to the desk and began carefully sifting through the documents. The chat history indicated the file should be somewhere near the desk.
The files on the desk were a mixed lot, mostly related to Chu Tinghan’s work. Wary of compromising confidential information, Pei Ji refrained from scrutinizing them closely, quickly moving on to the next file after confirming it wasn’t the one he was looking for.
Clatter! Pei Ji accidentally knocked a box off the desk.
Bending to pick it up, he noticed a small crack had opened during the fall. Through the gap, a sliver of black—resembling a phone screen—was visible.
His movements froze, his brow furrowing, and a foreboding thought flashed through his mind.
Qiao He had once mentioned he might have two phones: one for work and another for personal use. Yet, he only had his work phone, the other mysteriously vanished.
Now, a suspicious phone had suddenly appeared before him. Could this be… the missing one?
At this thought, Pei Ji broke into a cold sweat, utterly unable to pick up the box, let alone open it.
Impossible…
Pei Ji told himself he shouldn’t doubt Chu Tinghan. Yet, the inexplicably missing phone had indeed materialized in his study, hidden in an inconspicuous box.
He had always maintained strict boundaries, never touching others’ belongings without permission, even if that person was his spouse. Had he not accidentally knocked the box over while searching for documents, Pei Ji might never have seen this phone in his lifetime.
Clearly, whoever hid this phone understood his character perfectly, brazenly placing it in a small corner of his desk, not even bothering to lock the box.
Pei Ji took several deep breaths to regain his composure, retrieved the box, placed it back on the desk, and took out the phone inside.
The screen was shattered, rendering it completely unusable. Even after forcing it to power on, the display remained a scrambled mess.
Vibrant colors swirled across the screen, leaving Pei Ji dizzy and disoriented.
He tossed the phone aside, braced his hands on the desk, and lowered his head.
He was doubting Chu Tinghan again, unsure if he was just being paranoid or had truly uncovered the truth.
The study fell silent, save for the sound of his heavy breathing.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. As the minute hand swept through ninety degrees, Pei Ji finally grabbed the phone and documents. His face expressionless, he strode out of the house, determined to confront Chu Tinghan face-to-face and demand answers.
If he was wrong, he would apologize immediately and vow never to doubt Chu Tinghan again. But if Chu Tinghan was the one at fault…
A sudden buzz filled Pei Ji’s mind. He realized he didn’t even know what he would do.
As he left the study, Pei Ji felt dazed, his steps unsteady.
Seeing his disoriented state, Aunt Zhang rushed over to ask what was wrong.
Pei Ji leaned against the wall to catch his breath. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of low blood sugar, I think.”
“Why don’t I deliver these for you? You should stay home and rest,” Aunt Zhang offered, reaching for the documents in his hand.
“No need. I’ll handle it,” Pei Ji replied, sidestepping her hand as he walked forward without looking back.
Aunt Zhang watched his receding figure, momentarily stunned. For some reason, she sensed a hint of finality in his departure.
“Brother Pei, why are you delivering the documents yourself?” Guan Nan asked, still surprised as he came downstairs to meet him.
Pei Ji replied coolly, “I happened to be free, so I came by.”
Guan Nan took the documents but noticed Pei Ji showed no sign of leaving. Unable to decipher his intentions or ask him to leave, he led him upstairs.
Throughout the walk, Pei Ji didn’t utter a word, his face expressionless, his lips pressed into a tight line. This was not the gentle, approachable Pei Ji Guan Nan remembered.
Things might not be good, Guan Nan thought. Pei Ji seemed less like he was delivering documents out of goodwill and more like he was here to hold someone accountable.
Feeling uneasy, Guan Nan wanted to ask what was wrong, but he hesitated, afraid that his words might be ill-timed and disrupt the harmony between Pei Ji and his husband.
In the end, he chose to remain silent, walking ahead to guide Pei Ji into the office.
The moment the glass doors slid open, a furry figure darted out from inside, leaping agilely to land at their feet.
“Meow~”
Pei Ji glanced down and realized it was a kitten, its presence inexplicably familiar.
The kitten rubbed against Guan Nan’s pants leg, as if begging for attention.
Guan Nan casually scooped up the kitten and held it up for Pei Ji to see. “Director Chu found this stray and now keeps it at the office.”
Pei Ji stared at the kitten without a word, his gaze darkening.
The kitten had exactly three colors, strikingly similar to the calico they’d seen by the roadside that day.
He had brought it up to Chu Tinghan back then, but Chu Tinghan had been unusually cold, telling him he didn’t have time to care for it.
Yet here was that same little calico, now thriving at Chu Tinghan’s company, even looking a bit plumper than before.
At the time, the shop owner nearby had said the kitten had been adopted by a wealthy person, but Pei Ji hadn’t given it much thought. Little did he know that “wealthy person” was none other than Chu Tinghan himself, the very man who had just rejected him.
Afraid he might have misheard, Pei Ji asked again in a low voice, “You said Director Chu picked it up?”
Unaware of the displeasure in Pei Ji’s tone, Guan Nan continued to tease the cat. “Yeah, that’s right. Director Chu may seem cold on the outside, but he’s actually very kind to animals.”
The kitten he had worried about for so long was now healthy and thriving right before his eyes. Pei Ji knew he should be happy, but he couldn’t muster any joy.
His mind was a jumble, unsure which of Chu Tinghan’s words he should believe.
He was the one who told himself he didn’t have time for a cat, yet he secretly kept a kitten at the company behind Pei Ji’s back.
Why would he hide even something as trivial as raising a cat?
Why did Zhou Yingjie suddenly move out?
And why did that mysteriously missing phone turn up in Chu Tinghan’s study?
Pei Ji could have convinced himself it was all coincidence before, but so many coincidences piling up seemed suspicious, like a carefully crafted scheme.
He simply couldn’t convince himself anymore.
It wasn’t that he wanted to distrust Chu Tinghan; it was that he could no longer tell what was real and what was fake.
How many truths were hidden in Chu Tinghan’s words?
At that thought, Pei Ji felt his blood turn cold.
Why had Chu Tinghan kept secrets from him? Why had he lied?
They were married. He had already reformed himself. Why were they still acting out this charade of sleeping in the same bed but dreaming different dreams?
In this relationship, who was the untrustworthy bastard after all…?
Pei Ji’s thoughts spiraled into chaos, each attempt to untangle them only deepening his torment.
After a long silence, he suppressed the fear and unease churning inside him, took a deep breath, and said calmly, “Where’s Chu Tinghan? I need to see him.”