After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 31

Chapter 31

After much deliberation, Pei Ji concluded that only two people remained whom he could trust: Kong Chuan and Lü Yi.

However, Kong Chuan, a confirmed bachelor for years, was single-mindedly focused on his doctoral studies and clearly clueless about such matters. That left Lü Yi as the only option for advice.

Pei Ji vaguely remembered Lü Yi mentioning he was getting married soon, and he was particularly good with children, so perhaps he had relevant experience.

With the desperate hope of “treating a dead horse as if it were alive,” Pei Ji carefully rehearsed his wording before calling him.

At that moment, Lü Yi was practicing dance in the rehearsal room. When his phone rang, he assumed his esteemed Club President had some crucial matter requiring his assistance. Instead, he was confronted with an utterly baffling question.

Pei Ji opened the call with a blunt question: “Have you ever raised a child?”

Lü Yi frantically lowered the volume, hunched down, and scurried to a corner of the rehearsal room, whispering nervously, “We’re filming a show here, with 24-hour surveillance! Kids? That’s terrifying! Don’t start making up stories!”

Pei Ji replied earnestly, “I’m not joking. I’m serious.”

Lü Yi froze, sensing the gravity in Pei Ji’s solemn tone. He tiptoed out of the practice room, found a dead angle out of the camera’s view, and only then dared to speak.

Still skeptical, he pressed, “Are you really Pei Ji himself? Your account hasn’t been hacked, has it?”

A sigh came from the other end. “No.”

Holy crap… it really is Pei Ji himself talking about raising kids. What a bizarre topic!

Aren’t they both only twenty-four or twenty-five? Is this the kind of conversation they should be having at their age? Isn’t it a bit premature?

Lü Yi asked, puzzled, “I’m only twenty-five and just got engaged. Where am I supposed to raise a kid?”

Pei Ji fell silent.

The more Lü Yi thought about it, the stranger the situation seemed. Pei Ji wasn’t one to joke about something as serious as raising children, and his earnest tone suggested he was genuinely facing some kind of trouble.

For what felt like an eternity, Lü Yi couldn’t come up with anything useful to say. Pei Ji, already convinced of his friend’s unreliability, was about to hang up.

But just as he was about to disconnect, Lü Yi blurted out, “Why are you asking about this? Are you planning to raise a kid or something?”

Pei Ji didn’t know how to respond and could only remain silent.

“No, no, buddy, it’s not like that…” Lü Yi’s expression was on the verge of losing control. He scratched his head, utterly at a loss for words. Finally, unable to contain his disbelief, he let out a thunderous, “Huh?!”

His unprecedented exclamation echoed through the hallway like a martial arts film’s Lion’s Roar technique.

Even through the screen, Pei Ji could faintly feel the sound waves vibrating.

For Pei Ji, whose memories were still stuck at eighteen, the concept of marriage and children was difficult to process. Hearing Lü Yi’s utterly shocked exclamation only made him more unsure how to explain.

He could only offer a quiet, “Mmm.”

Lü Yi felt like his world was crumbling. He muttered “No way” over and over, pacing in circles. “When did you get married? Why didn’t you tell me? When did you have a kid? How old is the kid? Can it run yet?”

Run? Pei Ji thought. It’s practically running errands!

Afraid of shocking Lü Yi to death, he mumbled evasively, “Just… just recently, it’s not that old.”

Lü Yi couldn’t quite make out his mumbling. He hissed and pressed, “Who’s the missus…?”

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Pei Ji interrupted before he could finish.

Pei Ji had been trying to figure out how to succinctly explain his bizarre last few years to Lü Yi: how he’d seemingly won over his first love, Senior Chu, only to become a kept man and father a child, before callously abandoning him. But Lü Yi’s casual “sister-in-law” instantly snapped him back to reality.

Even now, you can’t resist trying to get a bargain? Sister-in-law?

He’d love to see Lü Yi dare call Chu Tinghan that to his face.

Pei Ji scoffed, amused despite himself. “Don’t use this as an excuse to elevate yourself in the family hierarchy.”

Lü Yi’s gossip-hungry soul burst into flames. “So, who’s your partner? Do I know them?”

Pei Ji: “……”

He did indeed know them—Senior Chu, the campus legend.

Seeing Pei Ji’s continued silence, Lü Yi deduced he’d guessed correctly. The flame of gossip flared. “Holy shit! It’s someone I actually know?!”

Pei Ji: “……”

Lü Yi’s shock morphed into curiosity. “Hey, is it someone from our band? Internal affairs, huh?”

For some reason, Pei Ji suddenly didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Lü Yi struck him as a complete idiot at this moment. Without emotion, he said, “Got stuff to do. Hanging up.”

“Hey, hey, don’t hang up!” Lü Yi pleaded, his voice urgent. “We’re brothers, right? Tell me the truth—I swear I won’t breathe a word.”

Pei Ji felt an overwhelming urge to block his number right then and there.

Lü Yi clicked his tongue, his tone dripping with sour sarcasm. “Fine, fine, keep your secrets. Our illustrious Club President has hidden his little darling away in a gilded cage. Who doesn’t have a partner these days?”

Pei Ji was utterly speechless. How had he ever agreed to become best friends with Lü Yi in the first place? Was it too late to regret it now?

He sighed, resigned. “I’ll tell you later.”

Lü Yi mirrored his sigh. “Alright, let’s drop the topic. The encore for the performance is about to start. When are you coming by? The guys have been so anxious without you here, they can’t even sleep at night.”

Pei Ji raised an eyebrow. “Is it really that dramatic?”

“Of course! Didn’t you say you were writing a song yourself for this?” Lü Yi’s voice tightened with concern. “Is it done? When can we start rehearsing?”

Having been so preoccupied with getting closer to Chengcheng lately, Pei Ji had nearly forgotten about the competition altogether. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Tomorrow. I’ll come by tomorrow. The song’s finished. I’ll send a demo to the group chat tonight. Give it a listen.”

“Got it.” Lü Yi suddenly became reliable, likely due to his experience in a band during college, allowing him to organize everything with remarkable efficiency.

The next day, after dropping Chengcheng off at school, Pei Ji rushed to the practice room without a moment to spare.

Inside, the trainees were already up early, waiting for him.

Pei Ji borrowed a slightly larger Bluetooth speaker from the neighboring room, connected his phone, and played the new song he had written specifically for the competition.

In an instant, the practice room erupted with the pounding rhythms of rock music. A sultry whisper intertwined with dynamic drum beats gradually built the song toward its climax. Just as the tension peaked, the music abruptly cut out, plummeting from peak to valley, leaving only a stark, steady heartbeat: thump… thump… thump… After a few beats, fast-paced electronic pop music exploded, its catchy rap verses and smooth rhythm instantly energizing everyone in the room.

The song was explosive and exhilarating, clearly far superior to the other groups’ tracks.

More importantly, the track was predominantly rap-focused, with minimal vocal sections. This suited F Group perfectly, as they excelled in dance rather than singing. Their previous win had relied entirely on Pei Ji’s talent and sheer luck.

The fusion of hard-hitting rock and pop music provided a versatile foundation for complex choreography, maximizing the group’s strengths while minimizing their weaknesses. It was practically tailor-made for F Group’s competition performance.

By the time the music ended, the trainees were struck speechless, their jaws practically hitting the floor. As they snapped out of their daze, the long-silent practice room erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.

This song alone proved Pei Ji’s explosive talent. He wasn’t just qualified to be a Guest Mentor; he could easily sit on the judges’ panel.

Now thoroughly convinced of his prowess, the trainees instantly became Pei Ji’s devoted followers, ready to follow his every command.

Seeing the worshipful looks on their faces, Lü Yi thought to himself, “Another Dreamcatcher has truly emerged.”

Rehearsals began in a flash. Pei Ji’s microphone was malfunctioning, emitting a terrible sound. He asked the staff to replace it several times, but the result was always the same: the singing came through choppy and disjointed, barely forming a complete line of lyrics.

Chu Tinghan happened to be watching from below the stage. Without even bothering to negotiate with the Program Group, he simply turned to Guan Nan and instructed him to fetch something.

Pei Ji had already realized that the Program Group was deliberately making things difficult for him. First, they cut the lights during the live broadcast, and now they were tampering with his microphone. It was clear they didn’t want him to win.

When the speakers crackled with a harsh tearing sound, Pei Ji immediately put down the microphone and called for a stop.

This couldn’t continue. The Program Group kept apologizing but refused to address the problem directly.

If this persisted during the actual performance, all his hard work would be for nothing.

He decided to postpone the rehearsal and calm down to think of a solution.

Sure enough, after he stepped off the stage, all the other groups’ microphones worked perfectly.

As Pei Ji listened to the clear, smooth singing coming from the speakers, his gaze grew colder.

“Brother Pei!” Guan Nan suddenly rushed over from nowhere, carrying a box. “Director Chu asked me to deliver this.”

Pei Ji took the box, puzzled. “What’s inside?”

Guan Nan, breathless from running, replied between gasps, “Director… Director Chu said you’ll know when you open it.”

Curious, Pei Ji opened the box and found a brand-new, diamond-studded handheld microphone.

He had only ever seen diamond-studded microphones in the hands of famous singers or idols, each custom-made and incredibly expensive. Someone of his current status definitely couldn’t afford one.

Pei Ji froze for a moment, suddenly feeling the microphone burning hot in his hand. “Could this be Chu Tinghan’s personal microphone?”

If he brazenly used Chu Tinghan’s personal microphone on the show, wouldn’t that be practically announcing their relationship to the world?

This is too risky, Pei Ji thought, and instinctively moved to return the microphone to Guan Nan. But Guan Nan insisted, “No, this isn’t Director Chu’s microphone. I’ve never seen him use it.”

Hearing this, Pei Ji carefully retrieved the microphone from the case. The more he looked at it, the more familiar it seemed, as if he’d seen it somewhere before.

But before he could scrutinize it further, he suddenly heard Lü Yi calling his name: “Pei Ji, the last group has finished rehearsing! The Program Group is urging us to hurry over.”

Pei Ji hesitated for a moment. Given the urgency, he couldn’t afford to overthink it and had no choice but to use the diamond-studded microphone for now.

After switching microphones, the sound quality improved dramatically, at least tenfold, and the rehearsal proceeded smoothly.

A few days later, the official live performance broadcast began. Tens of thousands of viewers flooded into the livestream room, and the broadcast’s popularity soared to unprecedented heights, with comments instantly filling the screen.

They unjustly eliminated F Group last time. They’d better not pull any more stunts this time around. F Group has already suffered enough.

Exactly! I don’t even want to talk about F Group’s Guest Mentor. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a disgraced celebrity used as a Guest Mentor. Either the Program Group is desperate for money or they’ve completely lost their minds.

Seriously? After watching the last performance, some people still think Pei Ji is a burden? Let’s be real—if it weren’t for Pei Ji’s insanely stable high notes, F Group would have been dead the moment the lights went out. There’s no way they could have won without him.

Who knows if that blackout was an accident or a deliberate move by the Program Group to stir up controversy? Using a disgraced celebrity as a Guest Mentor? It’s practically screaming, “Give him a redemption arc!” Don’t make it so obvious.

What the heck? What kind of show uses a blackout to hype up an artist? Think before you type!

The comments section was a chaotic battleground, with arguments erupting from every corner.

Enough with the fighting already! Can we just watch the performance in peace? Let’s judge Pei Ji’s skills based on the competition results, okay?

F Group’s up next! Everyone, come watch!

After the host left the stage, the venue plunged into darkness. Red laser beams flickered across the air, and as the lights shifted, the rising platform slowly ascended, revealing the F Group trainees.

The dim lighting obscured their faces, revealing only hazy silhouettes that added an air of mystery to their stage performance.

The entire audience held their breath, their eyes fixed on the stage, eagerly anticipating F Group’s performance.

After a long silence, crystal-clear, ethereal piano notes suddenly cascaded from the speakers, like pearls dropping onto a jade plate, the timbre crisp and melodious. As the rock music surged, the piano’s tempo accelerated, the two elements weaving together to create a novel fusion of traditional Chinese folk and modern pop.

Midway through the performance, the soaring, intense music abruptly ceased, and the stage lights went dark once more. Thump, thump, thump… The powerful sound of a heartbeat grew steadily louder. Spotlights blazed back to life, casting crimson beams onto a white curtain, where the light sketched a tall, slender figure.

The figure stood behind the curtain, his features hidden, revealing only a distinct silhouette: broad shoulders, long legs, perfectly proportioned.

As every spotlight in the venue converged on him, Pei Ji raised the microphone, steeled his nerves, and began to sing with measured grace. First came a sultry, whispered interaction with the audience, then, as the music swelled, his pace quickened into a flawless rap performance.

Though Pei Ji’s stage time was brief—only a few dozen seconds—he instantly captivated the entire audience. When his performance ended, the crowd erupted into unprecedented frenzy, with thunderous applause and cheers shaking the very foundations of the hall.

The cheers continued unabated even after F Group left the stage.

F Group absolutely nailed it! Best performance of the night, hands down!

Pei Ji wrote both the lyrics and music?! Dude’s a freaking genius! This song is pure fire!

This is hands down the best stage the show has ever seen. I’m speechless and completely convinced.

Who was it that complained Jia was a liability to F Group before? What kind of liability writes a banger like this? If you ask me, F Group hit the jackpot snagging Pei Ji as their Guest Mentor!

When’s the track dropping? I need it on repeat!

This song is just shallow ear candy. I don’t get what all the hype is about… eyeroll

If you can do better, then get up there yourself!

The melody’s decent, but the lyrics are so shallow. It’s just repeating the same word over and over, like a chanting mantra…

LOL, that word has serious history! Without it, this whole survival show wouldn’t even exist! The Program Group practically calls it “Daddy.”

I didn’t catch it during the live performance, but now that I’ve looked up the lyrics, they’re brilliant!

As this comment flashed across the livestream chat, Lü Yi was standing right next to Pei Ji. He was also puzzled by why Pei Ji had written the lyrics entirely in English. The trainees’ English wasn’t great, and correcting their pronunciation alone had taken ages.

Lü Yi patted Pei Ji on the shoulder and asked, “I’ve always wanted to ask what the lyrics you wrote mean. What is ‘Destiny’? Why does one part keep repeating that word?”

Pei Ji glanced around the dressing room, casually picked up a wristwatch, and pointed to the logo on its face. “See it clearly now?”

Lü Yi took the watch, paused, and then exclaimed in sudden realization, “Holy crap! This… this is the Program Group’s exclusive sponsor, isn’t it?! So you were just repeating the Big Boss’s brand name the whole time?!”

Pei Ji’s lips curved into a smirk. “Finally caught on, huh? Looks like those English lessons weren’t a complete waste.”

The song was titled “Destiny,” and its lyrics revolved entirely around the brand. Destiny, a renowned international luxury brand, had been investing heavily in the Chinese market in recent years, sponsoring numerous TV shows and hiring popular celebrities for endorsements, but with limited success. By investing heavily to secure the exclusive sponsorship position for Youth Star Factory 2, Destiny clearly aimed to capitalize on the show’s popularity to boost its brand awareness and expand its market share in China.

The sponsor was the Program Group’s financial backer. Rather than trying to curry favor with the Program Group itself, it was far more strategic to butter up the sponsor directly.

So Pei Ji wrote a song praising the sponsor, playing to their vanity.

Devoid of depth or artistic merit, it was pure, unadulterated flattery for the brand.

In his earlier days, he would never have stooped to such tactics. But now, desperate and cornered by life’s harsh realities, he had no choice.

If Destiny’s CEO hadn’t lavishly praised the song during rehearsals, F Group’s screen time would have been minimal.

Though the move appeared utterly sycophantic, it proved remarkably effective.

Immediately after F Group’s performance, major media outlets widely shared the performance video. Even the marketing accounts that had previously vilified Pei Ji did a complete about-face, showering him with extravagant praise.

Pei Ji knew these accounts and media outlets were paid mouthpieces—Destiny’s influence was unmistakable.

On the surface, they were praising F Group and Pei Ji’s talent, but their true motive was to promote Destiny, subtly reinforcing the brand’s presence in people’s minds.

Pei Ji saw it as trading a custom-made, free advertising song for Destiny in exchange for a chance to promote himself across the entire internet.

As an artist without powerful backing, even the slightest misstep could be amplified by unscrupulous media, triggering a nationwide wave of criticism and ridicule.

It’s all just writing anyway. Rather than take criticism for nothing, I might as well use the sponsors to my advantage, get some exposure, and reap some benefits.

As he’d predicted, by the time the voting results were announced, the hashtags #F Group Stage# and #Pei Ji# had already surged to the top of trending topics.

The F Group Stage performance was flawless in every aspect. First place is a foregone conclusion.

Everyone in F Group should kowtow to Pei Ji. Without his original song, they would have been dead in the water.

I apologize for mocking Pei Ji a few days ago. His talent is on par with the mentors themselves—he’s too good to be a guest mentor.

F Group must win!

I’m so nervous! The voting results are about to be announced.

The trainees and Guest Mentors took the stage one by one as the host received the final voting results from the Program Group.

The vote counts for the previous groups were no surprise, but F Group’s fate hung in the balance.

F Group lacked both high-profile trainees and a Guest Mentor with a strong fanbase, and they had no powerful backers to support them. All they had was a flawless stage performance. No one knew if the Program Group might manipulate the voting results.

The host flipped to the final page of his cue card. “Group D’s final vote count is 945 votes!”

The moment the number was announced, the entire audience erupted in thunderous applause.

With a live audience of a thousand, 945 votes shattered the show’s previous record. The outcome was never in doubt: F Group had once again defied the odds, staging a dramatic comeback to win the competition.

Across two performances—first a dreamlike, emotive ballad, then a high-octane rock-pop anthem—Pei Ji had showcased his extraordinary versatility, proving his exceptional adaptability to audiences nationwide.

Online discussions about Pei Ji surged, and long-dormant scandals from two years prior resurfaced.

Yet, strangely, when he awoke the next morning, these vile rumors had vanished as if by magic—most had been scrubbed clean.

It was obvious that Destiny had orchestrated the removal of any stage-related controversies; no brand wanted to be tainted by negative publicity.

But Destiny wouldn’t lift a finger for Pei Ji’s sake. So who had purged those two-year-old scandals?

Initially, Pei Ji suspected Chu Tinghan, but Chu Tinghan confessed he hadn’t had time to act.

Next, he considered his manager, An Zhu, but she confirmed she was still negotiating terms with public relations teams.

Beyond these individuals, Pei Ji couldn’t fathom who else might be secretly helping him.

Who could it be?

It couldn’t possibly be the person who had ruthlessly abandoned him in his youth…