After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Lü Yi crossed his legs, arms folded across his chest, head tilted back slightly, waiting haughtily for an explanation.
Pei Ji pondered, but his answer remained the same: “There must be some misunderstanding.”
Lü Yi exploded instantly, his patience snapping. He straightened abruptly, leaping to his feet. “What misunderstanding? Explain yourself!”
Pei Ji answered honestly, “I forgot.”
“……” Lü Yi sank back into his chair.
Pei Ji was speechless and exasperated. Lü Yi wouldn’t believe the truth, yet refused to listen to lies. When did he become so difficult to deal with? He certainly didn’t have the patience to coddle his best friend with sweet talk.
After a moment to calm down, Pei Ji rubbed his temples and decided to try a different approach. “Look, setting aside our personal issues, you have to at least be professional, right? You owe it to your F Group teammates. We’re a team—we can’t afford to lose anyone. If you slack off, they’ll suffer too.”
Lü Yi’s expression softened slightly. “Headache.”
“Take medicine.”
“I get a headache just looking at you. It’s incurable.”
Pei Ji immediately wanted to drag him out and throw him outside, but he restrained himself. “Work is work, life is life. Don’t bring personal feelings into work. If you really can’t stand me, can you wait until after the competition?”
Lü Yi smacked his lips, finding Pei Ji’s magnanimity surprisingly impressive. It made him feel petty by comparison—
Wait a minute… Weren’t they supposed to never forgive him? Why was he praising him now?
Lü Yi shook his head, trying to banish these traitorous thoughts from his mind.
After a moment, Lü Yi slowly and reluctantly said, “Fine.”
The two walked single file toward the practice room, Lü Yi trailing behind. Gazing at Pei Ji’s broad, upright back, he felt an almost disorienting sense of déjà vu, momentarily reliving his university days.
Back then, Lü Yi had been the vice president of the External Relations Department, while Pei Ji was the charismatic club president and lead singer of Dreamcatcher, commanding attention and basking in glory.
But now…
Sigh, Lü Yi sighed heavily.
One was a washed-up trainee, a nobody at the bottom of a reality show, while the other had crashed and burned, retreated from the industry, and was attempting a comeback. It was hard to say who was worse off.
“So melancholy. Is the world about to end?”
A sudden remark cut through Lü Yi’s thoughts. He looked up to see Pei Ji staring at him expressionlessly.
Lü Yi didn’t understand what he meant. After a beat, he said, “Huh?”
In the short fifty-meter walk from the dormitory, Pei Ji had already lost count of the sighs coming from behind him. His mind was filled with a constant chorus of “Ai… ai… ai…” that gave him a headache.
He couldn’t fathom what could be troubling Lü Yi so deeply. Or was this Lü Yi’s way of retaliating against him?
Lü Yi blinked at him in confusion. After a moment, Pei Ji said flatly, “I told you, stop sighing. It’s bad luck.”
Realization dawned on Lü Yi belatedly. Are people being this High Tier with their complaints these days? I didn’t even understand what he meant!
He wanted to retort, to shout about his freedom to sigh, but the words froze in his throat, condensing into a single “Oh.”
As soon as Pei Ji turned his back, Lü Yi grimaced in self-disgust, berating himself for being so spineless. This isn’t college anymore! Pei Ji isn’t my boss now. Why am I still following his orders like this?
Why can’t I just turn the tables and fight back?!
Because you can’t.
When he entered the practice room, he saw the trainees all rising in unison to greet Pei Ji with respectful bows and greetings. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Instead of turning the tables and fighting back, he should just flip over and take the beating.
The repeated “Brother Pei” seemed to drag him back five years. Pei Ji had become his esteemed Club President once more, while Lü Yi remained the same struggling foot soldier, begging for sponsorships under Pei Ji’s command.
Lü Yi couldn’t help but suspect Pei Ji could create another “Dreamcatcher” right here, on the spot.
As expected, capable people shine wherever they go.
Wait, why am I praising him again? Lü Yi wanted to slap himself.
Pei Ji, unaware his iron-clad friend was on the verge of a mental breakdown, calmly helped the trainees refine their details one by one.
He dissected the entire song, assigning parts based on each trainee’s strengths. Those with deeper voices sang the lower registers, while those with brighter tones handled the higher notes. Trainees who sang so off-key it sounded like spoken poetry were given minimal lines, relegated to the role of pretty vases.
By the end, only the song’s highest sustained note remained unclaimed. Some trainees couldn’t reach it, others’ voices cracked mid-note, and some ran out of breath halfway through.
After nearly an entire afternoon of coaching, no one could conquer this challenge. Pei Ji, unwilling to push them further, simply reserved the part for himself.
Since it was a slow, sentimental ballad, the choreography was simple, almost static, involving only a few basic moves. By sunset, Pei Ji had already drilled the group until they had the song down pat.
An hour before the recording session, Pei Ji was getting his hair and makeup done in F Group’s dressing room when he suddenly noticed the makeup artist pull out a long, slender white veil, gesturing to wrap it around his eyes.
Pei Ji froze for a moment, then swiftly grabbed the veil. “Wait, is this part of the makeup?” he asked incredulously, waving the veil in front of the makeup artist’s face.
“Yes, it is,” the makeup artist replied immediately.
She even showed him the Program Group’s design sketches on her phone, adding, “The Program Group specifically requested this.”
Pei Ji glanced at the sketches to confirm she wasn’t lying, but his grip on the veil remained firm.
The performance outfit prepared by the Program Group for him was also white: a loose-fitting, long-sleeved silk satin shirt paired with matching white trousers, the cuffs and collar embellished with rhinestone accents. While the white veil seemed to complement the ensemble visually, Pei Ji found it cumbersome, obstructing his vision and hindering his movements.
Pei Ji turned to the makeup artist. “Can I skip this?”
The makeup artist looked apologetic. “It’s a non-negotiable requirement from the Program Group. My hands are tied.”
Hearing this, Pei Ji frowned, utterly baffled.
What kind of rule is this? Forcing performers to go temporarily blind on stage? He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Program Group was up to no good, scheming some sort of stunt.
“Are you sure there’s no way around it?” Pei Ji persisted.
The makeup artist shook her head.
Pei Ji paused, then took a step back to negotiate. “Alright, how about I put it on right before our performance?”
The makeup artist gasped, about to refuse again.
Pei Ji quickly explained, “I promise I’ll wear it. It’s just that F Group is last to perform, and this veil is seriously obstructing my vision. It’ll be really inconvenient.”
After a moment of hesitation, the makeup artist reluctantly agreed.
As F Group waited backstage for their turn, Pei Ji noticed the area was teeming with cameras. A live feed of the stage was also playing on a monitor, ensuring every trainee reaction was captured in real time for the final cut.
The stage lights flared to life, the audience roared to its feet, and everything was ready.
Pei Ji had little interest in the other groups’ performances. He’d seen their rehearsals already—perfectly adequate, neither impressive nor flawed, each as unremarkable as the last.
To his surprise, the host announced during the official recording that a special guest would also be participating in this episode.
To create an air of mystery, the Program Group used dry ice to generate a thick white fog that gradually enveloped the stage. Beams of light pierced through the swirling mist, casting an ethereal, dreamlike glow. This elaborate setup had never been rehearsed, leaving Pei Ji intrigued about the guest’s identity. Who is this person? he wondered. Why is the Program Group going to such lengths just for an entrance?
Moments later, the arena lights dimmed completely, leaving only a few spotlights slowly converging on the rising platform. As the light merged with the swirling fog, a tall, slender figure gradually materialized.
The person’s features were obscured by the hazy mist, preventing Pei Ji from recognizing them, though their silhouette seemed vaguely familiar.
The live broadcast carried a slight delay. Before the image even appeared on screen, the deafening screams of the audience filled the venue. Even backstage, Pei Ji could feel the crowd’s frenzied excitement.
The screams were so loud they threatened to lift the roof off the arena. This person must be immensely popular, further fueling Pei Ji’s curiosity about their identity.
Finally, the live feed appeared on the screen. Under the high-definition cameras, the guest’s features became crystal-clear: a refined, striking face that was both beautiful and strong, neither overly delicate nor excessively masculine.
As the spotlight shone down, his vision narrowed to focus solely on this person, his radiance as pure and brilliant as moonlight.
Pei Ji stood frozen for what felt like an eternity. He had guessed at countless celebrities, but never once imagined it could be Chu Tinghan.
He had heard that Chu Tinghan, having achieved fame years ago, guarded his image fiercely and rarely accepted variety show appearances.
So why now? Was it the show’s exorbitant fee, or could there be another reason… Could it be because I’m on this show?
The thought stalled Pei Ji’s mind. He couldn’t believe he’d even entertained such an idea. Am I being too narcissistic?
Could I possibly be more alluring than money?
He dismissed the notion. Chu Tinghan would never compromise his principles for a man who abandoned his family.
Pei Ji wasn’t the only one stunned; the others reacted even more dramatically, practically trying to burrow into their screens.
“Wait, am I seeing things? Is that really Chu Tinghan?!”
“The Program Group must have emptied their coffers! They actually managed to snag the Song God himself!”
“Just seeing the Song God in person makes getting eliminated worth it!”
“My idol! I missed out on tickets to his tour this year and thought I’d never see him again, but here he is on the show, and so close! If I’d known he was coming, I would have practiced my singing day and night until it was flawless, even if I had to stay up all night… sniff sniff”
Pei Ji turned to see his little fan already wiping away tears.
Even moments before taking the stage, the fan was still brimming with tears, his foundation makeup streaked and ruined by his weeping.
The makeup artist raced against the clock to touch him up while Pei Ji stood by, torn between amusement and frustration, wondering if he, as Chu Tinghan’s other half, should put on a similarly tearful display after the show.
Moments later, the previous group finished their act. Pei Ji stepped onto the rising platform, surprisingly feeling a rare surge of nervousness.
It wasn’t because of the fierce competition, the impending performance, or the packed audience, but because of a certain calm and collected guest judge.
“Don’t be nervous,” Lü Yi said, as if reading his mind, patting him on the shoulder. “This isn’t Dreamcatcher anymore. He’s not your Senior, you’re not his Junior. Even if you mess up today, it has nothing to do with him.”
Pei Ji almost blurted out, “It does!” but the words caught in his throat, narrowly avoiding a disastrous public confession.
As a staff member helped him put on his earpiece, Lü Yi lowered his voice. “But I don’t think you’ll ever mess up in your entire life.”
True to his words, Pei Ji’s live, fully mic’d performance was virtually flawless. His naturally resonant voice made some viewers mistakenly believe the program group had secretly enhanced his audio.
Just as the audience thought F Group’s performance was about to reach its flawless climax, all the lights suddenly went out, plunging the stage into darkness. The accompaniment abruptly stopped, leaving only Pei Ji’s voice—precisely at the most challenging high note of the entire song.
The cameras kept rolling, and the Program Group showed no sign of stopping the performance. The audience, confused, assumed it was a deliberate part of the stage design.
Almost everyone missed the anomaly, but Chu Tinghan’s eyes darkened slightly. He didn’t believe Pei Ji would have agreed to such a risky stage design; it was highly likely the Program Group was scheming behind the scenes to sabotage his performance.
Chu Tinghan was about to rise and confront the Program Group on Pei Ji’s behalf when the singing continued. The sudden absence of music didn’t disrupt Pei Ji’s performance; instead, it created a serene atmosphere. The hall resonated solely with his penetrating voice, rising like a majestic mountain peak, delivering a profound spiritual impact.
The Program Group’s deliberately engineered malfunction had inadvertently allowed him to effortlessly turn adversity into triumph.
After the high note, the entire venue erupted in thunderous applause.
Unsurprisingly, with Pei Ji’s contribution, F Group secured a landslide victory, dominating the competition with an overwhelming vote margin.
After the recording wrapped up, Pei Ji returned home with Chu Tinghan.
Originally, Pei Ji was going to take his car, but Chu Tinghan suddenly texted him, saying he had a flat tire and couldn’t get back anytime soon, asking if Pei Ji could pick him up.
Pei Ji deliberately drove around the block and circled back to ensure everyone had left before instructing his driver to pull into the underground garage.
At that moment, Qiao He was still wondering if Pei Ji had left something behind and needed to retrieve it.
Pei Ji gave an awkward laugh, not daring to admit he was here to pick up the Song God’s boyfriend.
After a moment, Pei Ji feigned composure and said to Qiao He, “I’ve called you a cab.”
“Ah, no need,” Qiao He began, waving him off, about to decline the offer. But halfway through his sentence, he suddenly froze. “Wait, why are you calling me a cab? Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Pei Ji lowered his gaze and touched the tip of his nose, remaining silent.
Qiao He gasped in shock, the three words “there’s an affair!” flashing through his mind.
“Bro, are you going back to pick someone up?” Qiao He asked, his eyes sparkling with gossip-fueled curiosity.
“……” Pei Ji hesitated, racking his brain for a plausible excuse.
“Um…” But he stammered for a long moment without managing to say anything coherent.
“No worries, no worries! I’ll just pretend I didn’t see anything. But if you’re actually dating, remember to report it to Sister An.” Qiao He grinned as he hopped out of the car the moment it pulled to the side of the road, muttering, “There are plenty of secret relationships in the industry. As long as there are no kids involved, everything’s manageable.”
As long as there are no kids involved, everything’s manageable…
No kids…
Kids…
Pei Ji froze, realizing he was doomed. His child was already over two years old. If he reported it to An Zhu now, she’d probably accuse him of fraud.
Forcing a smile, he managed to say, “Take care.”
The audience had long since dispersed, and the arena lights were gradually dimming. After parking the car in the underground garage, Pei Ji hurried to pick up Chu Tinghan.
As he walked, a barrage of questions flooded his mind:
How did I perform today?
Did I improvise well enough?
Were you surprised by my victory?
Why are you here?
Why did you suddenly decide to come down to earth and join the show?
Why did you choose to appear on the episode I’m in?
But when he stood before Chu Tinghan, not a single word escaped his lips. Chu Tinghan’s expression seemed cold and distant.
Pei Ji forcefully swallowed his questions, replacing them with a simple, “Let’s go.”
Throughout their interaction, Chu Tinghan spoke only two sentences. The first was a flat congratulation on Pei Ji’s victory. The second was a question about who had designed his outfit.
At first, Pei Ji didn’t think much of it and answered honestly. It wasn’t until he got home that he realized Chu Tinghan seemed unusually preoccupied with his outfit today.
Chu Tinghan’s phone was left in the living room. Despite the phone ringing for a long time, he didn’t come down to answer it. After a moment’s thought, Pei Ji figured it might be an urgent call late at night, so he took the phone upstairs to find him.
The bedroom door was closed, and there was no sound from inside. Pei Ji raised his hand and gently knocked.
A moment later, the door opened. Chu Tinghan had changed into a silk pajama set; the deep blue fabric accentuated his luminous, fair skin. The V-neckline of the top plunged low, revealing his smooth, defined collarbones and hints of muscular definition beneath the fabric.
Pei Ji froze for a second, jerking his gaze away as if electrocuted, forcing his eyes to focus rigidly on Chu Tinghan’s face, his thoughts momentarily scrambling so completely that he forgot why he’d come upstairs.
Chu Tinghan’s expression remained impassive as he asked calmly, “Did you need something?”
The phone rang again, finally snapping Pei Ji out of his daze. He forced himself to remain calm as he handed the phone over. “It’s for you.”
Chu Tinghan glanced at the screen, took the phone, and hung up with a downward flick of his wrist. Perhaps he was about to retire for the night, as his hair hung loose, inexplicably lending him a somewhat docile air.
Obedient? The word simply didn’t fit Chu Tinghan. Pei Ji figured he must be too stressed lately, daring to apply such a label to him.
Standing awkwardly at the door, Pei Ji racked his brain to appear natural. He casually asked, “Calling so late… is it urgent?”
“No,” Chu Tinghan replied flatly. In the next moment, he not only hung up without another word but also switched off his phone without hesitation.
Pei Ji was dumbfounded.
Does Chu Tinghan keep work and personal life strictly separate, allowing no interruptions during his downtime?
If so, am I disturbing him now?
“I…” Pei Ji began, but before he could finish, Chu Tinghan suddenly held out a tie.
Pei Ji instinctively reached out and took it, utterly perplexed. “A… a gift for me?”
So that’s why he kept asking about the styling today? He wasn’t satisfied with the look and wanted me to add a tie?
But the next moment, Chu Tinghan shook his head, his expression enigmatic. “Your styling today was quite unique, but I was too far from the stage to see it clearly. Could you demonstrate it for me again?”
Pei Ji frowned, letting out a confused “Ah?”
What kind of request is this?
Still, since Chu Tinghan had asked, he didn’t dwell on it. Demonstrating the styling was no trouble at all.
He took the tie, his expression puzzled, and meticulously arranged it according to Chu Tinghan’s instructions. The tie proved a better blindfold than silk; darkness enveloped his vision.
Big Boss Chu truly has some unique ideas, Pei Ji thought to himself, mentally adding another label to his mental file on the man.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his confusion evident.
Chu Tinghan murmured a faint “Mmm.”
The sensation of being deprived of sight was intensely unsettling. Pei Ji reached out to remove the tie, but before he could, he detected a faint, refreshing fragrance. Then, he felt hands circle his neck, and hot breath tickled his ear.
Pei Ji froze, the memory of that night flashing through his mind. His first thought was, Is Chu Tinghan drunk again? When will he ever kick this habit of kissing people when he’s drunk?
But there was no trace of alcohol on Chu Tinghan. His words were clear and smooth, whispered against Pei Ji’s ear like a low murmur: “We’ve been married so long… don’t you want to do something about it?”
Pei Ji found Chu Tinghan’s behavior tonight unnervingly abnormal. This man’s mind is twisted, but I need to keep my head straight. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to maintain his composure, desperately trying to steer his runaway thoughts back on track. “I… I do…”
He heard Chu Tinghan chuckle softly, his breath drawing closer once more.
Pei Ji quickly added the second half of his sentence: “I want… I want to see our child.”
He wouldn’t have forced himself to say such a thing if he’d had any other option.
To his surprise, the words worked. He could clearly feel the scorching breath that had been falling on him pause for a moment, and the arm around his neck froze.
“Um… I think my performance today went pretty well. I might actually be qualified to raise a child now. What do you think?” Pei Ji felt his mind must be going haywire, actually discussing such a serious topic with Chu Tinghan at a moment like this.
After a moment, the arm around his neck suddenly loosened, and a voice, neither cold nor warm, asked, “Are you sure you want to negotiate with me at a time like this?”
Pei Ji didn’t know how to respond, so he simply hummed in affirmation.
In the next instant, Chu Tinghan grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. Blinded, Pei Ji stumbled a few steps, his leg suddenly bumping against the bed frame. Before he could react, he lurched forward and collapsed on top of Chu Tinghan.
The tie slipped from his grasp, and Pei Ji’s vision cleared once more. Whether it was the glare of the lamps or the mischievous glint in Chu Tinghan’s eyes, his mind suddenly buzzed.
This situation is too dangerous. Pei Ji braced himself, trying to sit up, but Chu Tinghan held him down, gripping his arm firmly. “If you’re going to negotiate terms with me,” he murmured slowly, “you’ll have to offer me some… benefits, won’t you?”
In this surreal moment, Pei Ji couldn’t quite grasp who was the sugar daddy and who was the kept man.
Benefits? If anyone else had said that word, he would have naturally assumed they meant financial gain. But Chu Tinghan clearly lacked nothing in that regard.
What, then, did he want?
Chu Tinghan remained cryptic, curious to see how Pei Ji would interpret the word “benefits.” Then he saw Pei Ji unconsciously lower his gaze, his lashes fluttering, the tips of his ears flushing slightly. Leaning down, Chu Tinghan tilted his head and pressed a swift, feather-light kiss to Pei Ji’s cheek.
Pei Ji’s entire face burned hot, his expression unusually earnest. “Will this do?”