After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The man on the advertising screen was strikingly handsome, his expression aloof. Even from a standard headshot, Pei Ji could sense his haughty aura, as if he were repelling anyone who dared approach.

Could someone like him even have worldly desires?

And would he ever… take a man as his kept lover?

As if burned, Pei Ji quickly averted his gaze, his disbelief palpable. “No way…”

Kong Chuan couldn’t help but chuckle at his thunderstruck expression. “Why not? I saw it with my own eyes. And—”

Pei Ji’s face alternated between pale and flushed, his heart leaping to his throat. “…And what?”

Kong Chuan recalled Chu Tinghan’s words from that day, organizing the information to explain their relationship to Pei Ji.

But the sheer volume of details overwhelmed him, and he struggled to find the right words for what seemed like an eternity.

Growing impatient, Pei Ji pressed him. “And what?”

What could be so difficult to say?

Could it be even harder to accept than me becoming a sugar baby?

“And what?” Pei Ji finally pressed him, unable to contain his urgency.

Kong Chuan frowned, opened his mouth, then paused. After a moment, his brow smoothed, and he looked at Pei Ji with an expression of dawning realization.

The expression quickly morphed back into one of disdainful contempt.

Pei Ji’s scalp tingled under the weight of Kong Chuan’s intense gaze, his instincts warning him that whatever was coming couldn’t be good.

Sure enough, Kong Chuan sighed, as if steeling himself for a difficult task, and then unleashed a series of jaw-dropping pronouncements.

“For the past two years, you’ve been living with Chu Tinghan. You two have been carrying on a passionate, top-secret affair, burning with love.”

Pei Ji jolted upright in bed, his mind a whirlwind of question marks.

What utter nonsense is this? A secret affair? How could that possibly be true???

Kong Chuan, used to such reactions, remained unfazed. Knowing Pei Ji would struggle to accept it, he said calmly, “But don’t worry. It’s highly unlikely you two will have anything to do with each other after this.”

Pei Ji was bewildered. “Why?”

“Because you’re about to break up.”

Pei Ji’s brain froze, utterly unable to process the Chinese words.

A passionate, top-secret affair? Burning with love? And they’re breaking up?!

He could almost grasp each phrase individually, but strung together, they shattered his ability to think altogether.

Pei Ji took a long time to recover, his expression souring even more than a bitter melon, stiff and wooden. “Why did we break up?”

This was the part Kong Chuan couldn’t understand either.

Though he and Pei Ji had barely kept in touch these past two years—exchanging messages fewer than a handful of times—Kong Chuan had vaguely heard that Pei Ji seemed to be dating someone. A few days ago, when Pei Ji’s birthday rolled around, Kong Chuan sent his usual greetings and casually asked about his relationship.

Pei Ji replied that he had broken up.

The reason?

“You said you were tired of playing around,” Kong Chuan said, glancing sideways at him.

“Huh???” The words struck Pei Ji like a thunderbolt, leaving him completely stunned.

Absurd. Outrageous. Such a scumbag thing to say was utterly out of character for him.

Pei Ji struggled to protest, “Did I really say that?”

“Of course! You said it to me yourself,” Kong Chuan recalled the scene vividly.

It was Pei Ji’s birthday. Kong Chuan had originally planned to call him to wish him a happy birthday and try to rekindle their fading friendship. But to his surprise, Pei Ji sounded unusually dejected, completely lacking his usual spark. Assuming it was a lovers’ quarrel, Kong Chuan was about to offer comfort when Pei Ji abruptly announced that he had broken up.

The phone call was filled with static, the roar of passing cars, and the howling wind. Kong Chuan couldn’t make out the middle of the conversation, only hearing Pei Ji’s self-deprecating remark before hanging up: “I got bored with the game.”

…Bored?

Huh?

Pei Ji’s heart turned to ice. No words could capture his current mood.

He never imagined that after seven years, he would become a gold-digging scumbag.

Kong Chuan’s face remained long and grim. As Pei Ji’s childhood friend, he should have supported him unconditionally, but this was truly too much. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything comforting.

Pei Ji sluggishly leaned back against the headboard, unable to calm himself for a long time.

Gold digger… freeloading… scumbag…

Judging by Kong Chuan’s tone, things hadn’t been going well for Pei Ji these past few years. He’d even grown distant from his closest friends.

Pei Ji’s head swam.

Each label was unacceptable.

Why didn’t the car just kill me? Better to die in my sleep than wake up to this.

Pei Ji’s face darkened to the color of charcoal, the word “despair” practically etched across his entire being.

“You’re the one who dumped him. Why are you so despondent?” Kong Chuan asked, puzzled.

Pei Ji’s eyes were devoid of light, his voice listless. “Can’t I be dumped by my future self?”

The me from seven years later really left me with a hell of a mess.

Kong Chuan choked on his words.

“…Fine.”

Pei Ji closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard, lying still as he racked his brain for a way to salvage the situation.

This is the first time I’ve ever heard of someone daring to dump their sugar daddy—and that someone is me.

How utterly absurd.

After a long silence, Pei Ji finally opened his eyes and glanced sideways. “Will he come again?”

“Who?”

Pei Ji shot him a glare. “Stop playing dumb.”

“Oh, you mean your sugar daddy, Chu Tinghan?” Kong Chuan feigned sudden realization, stroking his chin. “I doubt it.”

Pei Ji froze, stunned that he wouldn’t even get to see Chu Tinghan. Refusing to give up, he pressed, “I’ve been hit by a car and I’m in this state—why wouldn’t he come?”

“Why should he come?” Kong Chuan retorted, genuinely baffled. “You dumped Chu Tinghan first. The fact that he’s even covering your medical expenses is already above and beyond.”

“If it were me—” Kong Chuan started, but stopped halfway, unable to utter the most cutting words.

The man lying in the hospital bed finished his sentence for him. “They’d come in the dead of night to pull out my oxygen tube.”

Pei Ji’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as if his heart had turned to ash.

Kong Chuan’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “You’re remarkably self-aware.”

“Alright, I need to make my rounds. Get some rest.”

Kong Chuan rose to leave, but as he reached the door, he bumped into a furtive figure.

Startled, Kong Chuan recognized Aunt Zhang, the nanny Chu Tinghan had hired for Pei Ji.

Aunt Zhang pressed herself against the wall, awkwardly smoothing her hair as she gestured toward the room. “I’m here to bring Little Pei his meal.”

Kong Chuan, preoccupied with his rounds, nodded and left without suspicion.

Aunt Zhang entered the room, carrying a food container. “Little Pei, you’re awake! You must be hungry. Come eat.”

Pei Ji stared at the dishes on the table, almost every one of them his favorites. He couldn’t help but wonder, “How did you know I like these?”

Aunt Zhang smiled. “I’ve been cooking for you and Director Chu for two years now. Naturally, I know your preferences.”

She paused, tilting her head as if testing him. “Don’t you remember?”

Pei Ji froze for a moment, forcing a faint smile. “Of course I remember.”

Transmigrating seven years into the future was no different from losing seven years of memories. Countless significant events must have transpired during that time to transform him into the person he was now.

Desperate to uncover what had happened during those missing years, Pei Ji spent his hospital stay scouring social media platforms for information about himself.

The results shocked him to his core.

Nearly all reports related to him had stopped two years prior.

Across the internet, the same stories circulated: “Pei Ji, Nation’s Idol Center, Bullies Fellow Trainees”; “Creative Singer Pei Ji’s New Album a Flop, Suspected of Running Out of Ideas”…

These scandalous allegations dominated nearly all coverage of him.

The comment sections and trending topics from that era were flooded with netizens’ relentless abuse.

Everyone was shouting at him to leave the industry.

The content was so appalling that Pei Ji couldn’t bear to watch any more. He slammed his laptop shut.

The hospital room fell eerily silent, yet his heart pounded wildly with shock and panic.

Impossible. My future self would never stoop to such despicable behavior.

Pei Ji closed his eyes in agony, trying to calm himself.

Though he couldn’t be certain whether he would break up with Chu Tinghan in the future, he was absolutely certain he would never bully his teammates.

Their relationship was ethereal and uncertain, and he dared not draw any rash conclusions. But he knew his own character well enough to be certain that he was not the kind of person who would bully or ostracize his teammates.

There must be some hidden secret behind all of this.

The thought weighed on his chest like a mountain, making it hard to breathe.

Sigh… I never imagined my future self would live such a wretched existence.

But since fate had granted him this second chance—a chance to save himself—he wouldn’t let himself sink into despair.

He would clear his name and start anew.

Two weeks later, Pei Ji had fully recovered. After packing his meager belongings, he checked himself out of the hospital.

He hadn’t touched a single yuan of the 300,000 yuan Chu Tinghan had deposited into his medical card.

Though he wasn’t doing particularly well, he still had a few tens of thousands of yuan in his bank account, enough to cover the medical expenses for the past two weeks.

As for the earlier expenses, Pei Ji had meticulously inquired about all expenses incurred since his admission before being discharged. He planned to repay Chu Tinghan at the first opportunity.

He’d always disliked owing people money, and settling the accounts properly seemed the only responsible course.

Just as he stepped out of the hospital, Pei Ji encountered Aunt Zhang standing by a black car parked at the entrance. He suspected Chu Tinghan might be inside, his heart quickening with apprehension.

The next moment, a bouquet of flowers was suddenly thrust into his arms.

During his school days, his secret admirers had mostly sent love letters; this was the first time he’d ever received flowers from anyone.

It was a lavish arrangement of pristine, fragrant Casablanca lilies.

Slightly bewildered, Pei Ji lowered his gaze to stare at the blooms.

“These are from Director Chu,” Aunt Zhang explained.

Pei Ji looked up in astonishment.

He’d already treated Chu Tinghan like scum, yet Chu Tinghan still sent him flowers?

Is this sugar daddy being a little too good to him?

After a moment, Pei Ji suddenly discovered a note hidden among the flowers. He carefully pinched it up and found four words written on it:

“…Part amicably?” Pei Ji unconsciously read aloud.

Pei Ji couldn’t help but suspect that Chu Tinghan, his sugar daddy, was perhaps a bit love-obsessed.

Still, this kind of breakup was undoubtedly much more dignified than his own curt “I’m bored of you.”

The stark contrast in their actions once again stirred a profound sense of guilt in Pei Ji.

Though he hadn’t seen Chu Tinghan even once since transmigrating, he inexplicably felt deeply indebted to him—not just for the money, but for years of shared affection.

Pei Ji gripped the bouquet of pure and beautiful flowers tightly, standing frozen in place, lost in thought for a long time.

No, I can’t accept my future self becoming a scumbag who owes people emotional debts and leeches off others.

I have to redeem my future self.

At that moment, he suddenly felt a strong urge to meet Chu Tinghan, the sugar daddy with whom he had carried on a passionate two-year underground affair.