After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Knock, knock. A knock suddenly sounded on the bedroom door, followed by Sister Xu’s voice from outside.
“Little Pei, is Chengcheng awake yet? If not, give him a nudge. He’ll be late if he doesn’t get up soon!”
Pei Ji had to swallow the urge to call her “Mom” and focus on the immediate situation. Raising his voice, he replied, “He just woke up. One moment, please.”
Sister Xu called through the door again, “Little Pei, hurry and get Chengcheng dressed! If he dawdles any longer, he’ll really be late!”
He quickly grabbed a clean outfit from the closet and changed, then opened the door, looking puzzled. “Late? Where does he need to go?”
“To school, of course!” Sister Xu replied immediately. “Chengcheng’s in a toddler class now.”
“Ah?” Pei Ji froze, wondering if he’d misheard in his early-morning haze. He said in disbelief, “He has to go to school already?”
Chengcheng was barely three years old, yet he was already starting school? Other kids his age were still playing with toys at home.
Is it really necessary for him to start school so young? Is he living too hard already?
Though he couldn’t quite grasp it, being late for school was never good. Besides, what if this was part of a special upbringing plan Chu Tinghan had designed for Chengcheng? He couldn’t let the child’s other dad down.
Pei Ji glanced back and saw Chengcheng still lying in bed. “Chengcheng, what time does school start?” he asked.
“Eight o’clock,” Chengcheng mumbled.
“E-eight o’clock?!” Pei Ji exclaimed, shocked by how early it was. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was nearly 7:30—no time for further hesitation. He frantically yanked Chengcheng out of bed and scrambled to help him get dressed.
Flustered and frantic, Pei Ji had long forgotten about calling himself “Mommy.” All that filled his mind was the thought of his son being late for school, his son being late because of him.
He couldn’t be the bad guy. If Chengcheng got scolded by the teacher at school because of him, he’d definitely refuse to talk to him when he got home. All his efforts from the previous day would be for nothing.
As Pei Ji knelt to tie Chengcheng’s shoelaces, his anxiety burned hot. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he nearly tied the bow into a tight knot in his haste.
“I had a dream last night,” Chengcheng murmured, rubbing his eyes as he finally woke up. He glanced down at Pei Ji tying his shoes and mumbled softly.
Pei Ji didn’t catch what he said. “What was that, Chengcheng?” he asked, looking up.
Chengcheng gazed into his father’s eyes, clutching the bedsheets, and after a moment’s hesitation, whispered, “I had a dream last night.”
Hearing this, Pei Ji couldn’t help but smile. If my son is willing to share his dreams with me, our bond must be growing stronger.
Softening his tone, he asked, “What kind of dream was it?”
Chengcheng continued slowly, “I dreamed there was a little bear in the forest. He said he couldn’t find his mama and asked me to help him find her.”
Pei Ji’s hands, which had been tying a bow tie, suddenly paused, his smile fading slightly.
So that hazy “Mama” Chengcheng murmured when he woke up… he wasn’t looking for his own mother, but trying to help a dream bear find its own?
What an extraordinary coincidence! Pei Ji still found the situation somewhat strange.
“But I woke up before I could help him find his mama,” Chengcheng said, his voice unusually earnest. “Will the little bear still be able to find her?”
Pei Ji studied him thoughtfully for a moment. Chengcheng’s gaze seemed genuinely sincere, and a child under three couldn’t possibly lie. After a brief pause, he tightened the bow tie and smiled reassuringly. “He’ll find her.”
Chengcheng’s brow was still furrowed, his expression worried, as if he were still concerned about the little bear finding its mother.
Pei Ji gently flicked his nose. “Alright, don’t dwell on that. Aunt Xu said you have school today. If we don’t hurry, you’ll be late.”
Hearing this, Chengcheng instantly leaped off the bed. Without needing any prodding from Pei Ji, he was already racing out of the bedroom.
Pei Ji followed in astonishment, genuinely surprised to find a child who was actually eager to go to school.
He glanced at the time again. It was already 7:35 AM. If they drove right away, they might just make it to kindergarten on time—but there wouldn’t be time for breakfast at home.
As the two of them emerged from the bedroom, Chu Tinghan was already standing by the door, holding Chengcheng’s macaron-colored backpack.
Pei Ji casually took the backpack and slung it over Chengcheng’s shoulders, asking, “I thought kindergartens usually provide breakfast, right?”
Chu Tinghan nodded.
Pei Ji made a quick decision. “Then we won’t have him eat at home today. We can’t risk being late.”
With that, he turned and led Chengcheng toward the door, making it clear he intended to take him to school personally.
“Wait,” Chu Tinghan called out suddenly, stopping him.
Pei Ji turned back. “What is it?”
Chu Tinghan walked forward a few steps and handed him the cartoon-themed sippy cup from the table. “Chengcheng forgot his water cup.”
Pei Ji froze for a moment, then chuckled awkwardly, inwardly scolding himself for his inexperience as a first-time parent. Almost let my son go all day without water!
The cup had a shoulder strap, and he casually took it from Chu Tinghan and slipped it over his own shoulder to carry for Chengcheng, his movements so fluid it seemed he’d done this a thousand times before.
Watching this scene, Chu Tinghan suddenly felt a pang of disorientation. Everything had unfolded so naturally, even the minor hiccup felt like an everyday occurrence. It gave him the unsettling illusion that they were a couple who had been raising their child together for years.
He snapped out of his daze only when Pei Ji opened the door, the soft click breaking the spell.
As Pei Ji’s figure was about to vanish into the sunlight, Chu Tinghan quickly called out, “Wait.”
Pei Ji glanced back, puzzled. “What is it now? Did I forget something else?”
Chu Tinghan frowned slightly, asking uncertainly, “Are you taking him to school?”
Pei Ji looked confused. “Yeah, why?”
After a few seconds, Pei Ji saw Chu Tinghan didn’t answer, but his brow furrowed even deeper. Feeling inexplicably guilty, he stammered, “I… shouldn’t I go?”
So, I’m only allowed to see him, but not to take him to school? Pei Ji felt bewildered. He turned to Chu Tinghan. “Why don’t you take him?”
“We’re both public figures,” Chu Tinghan reminded him. “Aren’t you afraid of getting photographed taking him to school? Can you imagine the bizarre rumors that would spread like wildfire online?”
Pei Ji froze, suddenly realizing he’d just made a splash on the nation’s hottest talent show. If he were photographed taking his son to school at this critical moment, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the bizarre rumors that would spread like wildfire online.
After a moment’s deliberation, Pei Ji conceded that Chu Tinghan had a point. He handed the water bottle to Sister Xu, asking her to take Chengcheng to school instead.
As the car pulled away, the back window rolled down, revealing Chengcheng’s clear, pale face. Sister Xu, holding his arm, waved to them, urging Chengcheng to say goodbye.
Once the car had completely disappeared down the road, Pei Ji returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. Spotting a few books on the shelf, he suddenly remembered something. Casting a sidelong glance at Chu Tinghan, he hesitated, wanting to speak but unable to bring himself to.
After hesitating for a long time, he finally asked, “Um… what kind of bedtime stories do you usually read to Chengcheng?”
Chu Tinghan’s expression froze. “…Bedtime stories?”
Pei Ji: “Yeah, Chengcheng needs a story to fall asleep. Otherwise, he won’t drift off.”
Chu Tinghan paused, took a sip of water, and replied slowly, “Andersen’s Fairy Tales.”
Pei Ji nodded thoughtfully, planning to try it out that very night.
That evening, before bedtime, Pei Ji had already selected several fairy tales suitable for Chengcheng’s age, without needing a reminder from the boy.
Remembering Chu Tinghan’s advice, all the bedtime stories he read to Chengcheng were from Andersen’s Fairy Tales.
He had expected Chengcheng to fall asleep easily and peacefully this time, but after reading three fairy tales in one go, Chengcheng showed no signs of sleepiness, still blinking his big, wide eyes and looking remarkably alert.
Pei Ji placed the fairy tale book on the bedside table, puzzled about where he had gone wrong.
He had followed Chu Tinghan’s instructions meticulously, yet they seemed ineffective when he tried them.
The phone screen showed it was nearly ten o’clock. If Chengcheng didn’t go to bed soon, he’d likely struggle to wake up early the next morning.
Pei Ji asked, slightly perplexed, “Chengcheng, aren’t you even a little tired?”
Chengcheng glanced at the fairy tale book on the bedside table and mumbled, “I’ve heard these stories so many times before.”
Though his voice was soft, the room was quiet, and Pei Ji heard him clearly, utterly astonished by his words.
Chengcheng had heard these stories before? But Chu Tinghan had explicitly told him that he hadn’t told Chengcheng these stories yet.
Could it be that his kindergarten teacher or Sister Xu had told him, without Chu Tinghan’s knowledge?
Fortunately, Pei Ji had asked Aunt Zhang to buy several fairy tale books that afternoon. He quickly pulled out another one and let Chengcheng choose a story himself. Only then did he finally manage to coax the child to sleep.
The next morning, Pei Ji instructed Sister Xu to take Chengcheng to school as usual. She was supposed to pick him up in the evening as well, but Pei Ji had been wanting to strengthen his bond with Chengcheng. So, while Chu Tinghan was away, he disguised himself thoroughly, covering his face completely, and planned to pick Chengcheng up from kindergarten himself.
When Pei Ji arrived at the kindergarten gate, he discovered it was exceptionally secure. Among the parents waiting outside, some looked strikingly familiar—likely minor celebrities.
The children attending this kindergarten all came from influential families, and the surrounding area was virtually paparazzi-free, making the chances of being photographed slim to none.
Still, it never hurt to be cautious. As he approached the crowd, Pei Ji tugged his mask higher.
Soon, the children emerged in orderly lines, led by their teachers.
Pei Ji spotted Chengcheng immediately, waving to him from a considerable distance.
Hearing his voice, Chengcheng glanced in his direction, his steps remaining unhurried as though he couldn’t care less about going home after school.
At first, Pei Ji assumed Chengcheng hadn’t recognized him and didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until Chengcheng walked straight toward him without hesitation that he realized the boy had recognized him the moment he heard his name called.
Chengcheng’s overly calm reaction now struck him as distinctly abnormal, especially in stark contrast to the gleeful children around him.
While other children gleefully bounced and ran into their parents’ arms, Chengcheng alone sauntered over slowly, his backpack slung casually over his shoulder. He showed no trace of excitement or impatience, not a hint of the joy of going home from school.
Watching this scene, Pei Ji felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of heartache.
He had tried so hard, racking his brains trying to bond with Chengcheng, yet the boy remained stubbornly aloof, neither warm nor cold.
To Chengcheng, it seemed to make no difference whether his father was present or absent.
In the boy’s eyes, Pei Ji felt more like a distant uncle than a father.
Even though Chengcheng would chat and play with him, and sometimes even offer a genuine smile when happy, Pei Ji always sensed an invisible, towering wall between them. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bridge the gap to achieve the close, intimate bond shared by ordinary fathers and sons.
The more Pei Ji pondered this, the more his head ached. He wondered if he should ask someone for advice.
Is it normal for one’s own son to be so polite and distant?