After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Another half-day passed. When Pei Ji searched for his scandals again, he found only a handful of posts. All the fabricated rumors and accusations about his past had vanished without a trace, and his trending search terms had plummeted several ranks.
Pei Ji was certain someone was helping him behind the scenes, but he couldn’t figure out who it was.
Scrolling further down the interface, he noticed that netizens’ attention had shifted from his past scandals to the diamond-encrusted handheld microphone he used during his performance.
Wait a minute, did you guys notice that Pei Ji’s microphone is studded with diamonds? Given his current popularity and status, where did he get such a custom-made microphone?
I zoomed in during the close-up shots and checked it out. This mic is meticulously crafted and looks incredibly expensive. I’d estimate it costs at least tens of thousands of yuan. Do disgraced celebrities really make this much money now? Maybe I should clean myself up and debut too.
“Can’t believe even disgraced celebrities rake in this much cash. The entertainment industry is just too easy to make money in.”
“Maybe he didn’t even buy it himself. Could be a gift from some big shot backing him.”
“No wonder Pei Ji could stage a comeback after his scandal and immediately land a spot on a hit talent show. He must have someone pulling strings behind the scenes.”
“I’ve seen that handheld mic before. It’s not custom-made—it’s a limited edition from a few years back. Sold out instantly when it was released. Really hard to get. Pei Ji probably hadn’t even debuted yet back then.”
Scrolling through the comments, Pei Ji’s finger froze as his gaze locked onto the words “limited-edition.” A long-dormant memory suddenly surfaced.
In a flash of recollection, he realized where he’d seen that handheld mic before.
Wasn’t that the one Chu Tinghan was going to give him for graduation back in college?
Three years ago, in June, the Communication University campus buzzed with graduation season fervor. The library courtyard overflowed with graduates posing for photos.
“Alright, everyone look at the camera. One, two, three!” The photographer snapped the shutter.
He glanced at the preview image, then called out to Professor Zheng, who stood in the center of the group, “Teacher Zheng, you blinked. Let’s take another one.”
The sun beat down relentlessly, forcing everyone to squint against the glare. It took over twenty minutes to finally get the graduation photo right.
Lü Yi took off his mortarboard and used it as a fan, tugging at his collar and fanning himself vigorously. “These graduation robes are no joke!” he grumbled. “They’re as thick as wool sweaters! I’m about to get heatstroke.”
Drenched in sweat, Lü Yi glanced over at Pei Ji, who remained remarkably calm, even chatting and laughing with classmates nearby. Fanning himself, Lü Yi sidled up to him and asked, “Hey, Club President, aren’t you hot?”
Pei Ji waved politely at a classmate who was walking away, waiting until they were out of earshot before replying, “It’s not too bad, actually.”
Lü Yi followed his gaze and craned his neck to see only a blurry figure receding into the distance. “Who’s that?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before.”
He tilted his waving hand sideways, fanning Pei Ji instead. “Your new crush, huh, Senior?” he teased.
Ever since Lü Yi had figured out Pei Ji might have a thing for Senior Chu, he’d been all “Senior this” and “Senior that,” more concerned about Pei Ji’s love life than Pei Ji himself.
Pei Ji shot him a cold glare, thinking the guy was a few screws loose. Not wanting to waste time arguing, he snatched the graduation cap from Lü Yi’s hand and slammed it onto his head like a dunk.
Lü Yi ripped the cap off, frantically fixing his hair while staring at his phone screen and wailing, “Dude, my fresh haircut! All those junior girls are watching—I’ve completely ruined my cool, handsome image!”
Pei Ji ignored him completely.
Solos get boring fast. After fixing his hair, Lü Yi leaned in again. “Seriously though, what were you talking to him about earlier? I never knew you two were so close.”
“We’re not close,” Pei Ji replied curtly.
The guy was just a classmate from the same department. They hardly ever saw each other outside of class. Pei Ji had only spoken to him because he’d overheard him mention someone might be coming over soon.
“If you’re not close, why were you talking to him?”
Pei Ji wondered where all these questions were coming from, but he couldn’t shake Lü Yi, who was following him around like a machine gun, firing off questions nonstop. He could only purse his lips and reluctantly hum, “Uh… well, he said someone was coming.”
Lü Yi was utterly confused. “What? What do you mean ‘someone’s coming’? Who?”
If Lü Yi finds out it’s Chu Tinghan, Pei Ji thought, he’ll probably start making up all sorts of flowery sentences using the word ‘Senior’ again.
Pei Ji remained silent, but Lü Yi picked up on his slightly embarrassed expression. His eyes lit up. “Wait… could it be that Senior Chu you’ve been pining after?”
Pei Ji felt a wave of despair. Oh no, here comes the lecture again.
True to form, Lü Yi immediately started gossiping. “Hey, wait a minute! If he’s coming, why didn’t he tell you? You’re his direct junior, and the band’s heir! Shouldn’t he have told you right away?”
Channeling his inner drama queen, Lü Yi sighed dramatically and feigned regret. “Ah, so it’s unrequited affection from the junior, indifference from the senior… AHHH!”
Pei Ji kicked him out of the way.
Lü Yi nearly face-planted into the bushes before finally straightening up. He grinned at Pei Ji like a loyal lapdog. “I was wrong, bro! Just kidding!”
The surrounding juniors, who had been about to approach them for contact information, hesitated and retracted their outstretched legs upon witnessing the tense exchange.
Lü Yi raised his hands in surrender, his smile ingratiating. “I was wrong, I apologize. I’ll never say anything like that again. Can we make up? Otherwise, people watching might think Dreamcatcher is fighting internally, which would be terrible for our image.”
Pei Ji was long accustomed to Lü Yi’s reckless chatter, knowing his words were often careless but his heart was genuine. He decided not to hold it against him.
Seeing that they seemed to have reconciled, the surrounding juniors hesitated before cautiously approaching, nervously pulling out their phones. “Senior Pei Ji, I’m also from the music academy. Could I add you as a contact?”
In the past, Pei Ji might have politely declined with an excuse. But with the crowd growing, refusing now would seem cold and aloof.
After a moment’s consideration, he relented and added the junior’s contact.
The moment he agreed, the crowd surged forward, pressing Pei Ji against the flower bed, surrounding him in concentric circles.
“Senior, I’m also from the music academy! Can you add me too?”
“Senior, I’m a freshman. I was hoping to join Dreamcatcher, but I didn’t expect you’d graduate before I even joined the club. Can I add you on WeChat?”
“Senior…”
The surrounding crowd buzzed like a hive of bees. Pei Ji felt like a zookeeper, surrounded by eager, hungry animals waiting for him to toss them their meal.
Lü Yi had been pushed out of the crowd and could only stand awkwardly nearby, waiting for Pei Ji to finish adding everyone’s contact information.
“Hey, I told you backstage work is way less glamorous than being on stage. Look at Pei Ji’s aura—being the lead singer really makes a difference.” A hand suddenly landed on Lü Yi’s shoulder. He turned to see Kong Chuan, clutching a huge bouquet of flowers.
Lü Yi was so touched he nearly cried. “Are these flowers for me? My son! I knew all those years of pampering you weren’t wasted!”
Kong Chuan’s lips twitched. The flowers were heavy, his arm aching. Just needing someone to take them, he shoved the bouquet into Lü Yi’s arms without another word. “…Fine, you hold them.”
Before Lü Yi’s tears could spill, he blinked in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean? These flowers aren’t for me? Don’t tell me it’s another one of those Medical University girls asking you to give them to Pei Ji again?”
“Of course not! I stopped doing that job ages ago,” Kong Chuan hesitated, then leaned close to Lü Yi’s ear and whispered, “Aunt Jiang asked me to deliver these to Pei Ji.”
Lü Yi instantly regained his composure, the flowers in his arms suddenly feeling scalding hot. He sighed, “Well, that’s a tough mission. I doubt you’ll succeed. I bet he won’t accept them.”
Across the way, Pei Ji was still surrounded by a crowd, the sea of people threatening to engulf him entirely, his popularity seeming to rival that of a major celebrity.
Just as they were joking about it, a sudden commotion erupted nearby, the cheers and camera clicks growing louder and clearer—the real star had arrived.
Hearing the commotion, Pei Ji glanced up and his eyes met Chu Tinghan’s smiling gaze. He froze instantly, his vision narrowing to focus solely on that one figure. It was only the voices of junior students urging him to add their contact information that finally snapped him out of his trance.
He lowered his head and began adding contacts one by one, but his peripheral vision kept straying elsewhere, his attention clearly elsewhere.
By the time Pei Ji’s crowd dispersed, a new swarm of fans had gathered around Chu Tinghan, clamoring for autographs. A sea of people separated the two, making it impossible for either to push through.
Pei Ji tried to move forward, but the crowd blocked his path. Chu Tinghan, on the other hand, couldn’t very well disperse his own fans.
The mere ten meters separating them now felt like an insurmountable galaxy. They exchanged a glance, both feeling a sense of helplessness.
After a moment, Pei Ji’s phone vibrated. Chu Tinghan had sent him a message:
Senior: Wait for me.
Perhaps overwhelmed by the swarming fans, Pei Ji didn’t receive the next message until much later:
Senior: Dreamcatcher’s practice room.
Pei Ji smiled and nodded across the sea of people at Chu Tinghan.
Lü Yi’s hand was almost numb from holding out the flowers, yet Pei Ji hadn’t taken them. Instead, he seemed mesmerized, his eyes fixed on Chu Tinghan with an adoring smile.
Lü Yi sighed and muttered to Kong Chuan, “Ah, just as I thought—flowers can’t compare to the beauty of a person.”
In the next moment, a cold voice cut through the air beside him. “The flowers are yours,” Pei Ji said coolly, his smile vanishing.
“Huh???” Lü Yi froze for a moment. Seeing Pei Ji already walking away, he chased after him, clutching the bouquet. “Hey, you can’t do that! These were a gift from your mother.”
“Then throw them away.”
“No way! What a waste! Wait up—Pei Ji, Young Master Pei!”
Pei Ji finally caught up with Chu Tinghan in the practice room near sunset. To his surprise, Chu Tinghan wasn’t alone; Professor Zheng was there with his students.
Pei Ji’s smile faltered slightly, and he rose to greet them a beat late.
Professor Zheng nodded with a warm smile, while the students huddled behind him, looking rather awkward.
Pei Ji politely greeted them all, then cast a questioning glance at Chu Tinghan.
Chu Tinghan shrugged helplessly, conveying his own awkwardness. He had originally planned to come find Pei Ji alone, but he’d run into Professor Zheng on the way. When the professor heard he was going to the practice room, he insisted on joining. Chu Tinghan couldn’t refuse.
Professor Zheng chuckled, pushing one of his students forward. “This student is an exceptional photographer—he even won an award recently. I brought him along to take a group photo of you two.”
At those words, Pei Ji’s eyelashes fluttered. Could my feelings for Senior be that obvious? Is Teacher Zheng here to play matchmaker?
But the next moment, Professor Zheng’s gaze shifted from him to the largest wall in the practice room. He planted his hands on his hips, striking a pose of grand ambition. “From now on, the photo of you two will hang here as Dreamcatcher’s centerpiece! When people come in, they’ll see Dreamcatcher’s glorious history right away.”
Hearing this, Pei Ji chuckled softly, a faint pang of disappointment lingering in his heart.
How foolish of me to think Professor Zheng was playing matchmaker. The professor simply wanted to create a historical wall for Dreamcatcher.
“Alright, of course,” Pei Ji replied, composing himself as he walked to Chu Tinghan’s side. With a slight smile, he turned to the photographer. “Go ahead and take the picture.”
Little did he know, by some twist of fate, this would become one of the few photos of him and Chu Tinghan together.
That day, Professor Zheng hosted a dinner for them. Pei Ji would have preferred to spend the time alone with Chu Tinghan, but he couldn’t refuse his professor’s invitation and reluctantly agreed.
The next morning, Chu Tinghan had to leave for work unexpectedly, catching the earliest flight out.
Pei Ji packed his luggage in silence, his eyelids drooping with listlessness.
His roommates, mistaking his mood for graduation melancholy and separation anxiety, patted him on the shoulder in reassurance. “It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. Don’t be sad.”
Another roommate chimed in, “Yeah, don’t miss us too much. You can always call if you want to meet up.”
Absentmindedly packing his things, Pei Ji only grunted in reply.
He wasn’t thinking about his roommates at all; his mind was consumed by Senior Chu Tinghan.
After graduation, without the formal senior-junior relationship, he wondered if they’d ever see each other again.
On campus, Chu Tinghan was a renowned and exceptional senior; off campus, he was a rising pop star with immense momentum.
In contrast, Pei Ji’s glory days were limited to his success with Dreamcatcher on campus. Who would even remember him after he left?
He chuckled bitterly. Maybe I’ll have to buy concert tickets just to see Chu Tinghan again someday—assuming I can even get them.
Sigh… the gap between us is just too vast.
As this thought sank in, Pei Ji’s heart felt shrouded in dark clouds, a relentless drizzle gradually soaking his very core.
He suddenly regretted declining invitations from major entertainment companies. I should have entered the industry sooner to catch up with Chu Tinghan.
Midway through his melancholy musings, the dormitory door burst open. Lü Yi rushed in like a whirlwind, carrying a mysterious box in his hand. He plopped down on the stool next to Pei Ji. “Ugh, I’m exhausted!”
Hearing the commotion, their roommate glanced over and teased, “Ooh, who’s sending you off with a graduation gift?”
“Who’s sending me a gift?” Lü Yi’s face twisted into a grimace as he gritted his teeth. “I’m the one giving it to Pei Ji!”
“We’re all roommates! Why only give him a gift?”
“Exactly! That’s so unfair! What’s up with you, man?”
“Could you guys please watch your language? I’m just the errand boy,” Lü Yi said, setting the box down in front of Pei Ji, his tone sourer than lemons. “Senior Chu sent this for you. Take it.”
Pei Ji wiped his hands and took the box incredulously. “…Senior Chu?”
Lü Yi feigned indifference, refusing to spell it out. “Yeah, the Senior Chu you’re thinking of.”
The box looked like a safe. The roommates swarmed around it, curious. “Hey, what’s inside? I’m dying to know! Can we open it and take a peek?”
Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan weren’t even officially dating yet, so Chu Tinghan definitely wouldn’t send anything too risqué.
After a moment’s thought, he solemnly opened the box to reveal a meticulously crafted, diamond-studded microphone.
The roommates stared in awe, their eyes glittering like gold. Even at a glance, the exquisite craftsmanship made it clear this thing wasn’t cheap.
“Why would Senior Chu give you such an expensive microphone?”
Pei Ji licked his lips before answering, “Because I’m his junior, I guess.”
“I’m his junior too! Why doesn’t he ever give me anything?” Lü Yi’s voice drifted over like a ghostly whisper.
A smile bloomed in Pei Ji’s eyes, but he forced his lips into a taut line, still trying to feign composure. “Maybe it’s because I’m his… direct junior.” But the joy overflowed like honey, and he couldn’t suppress a laugh.
The earlier melancholy vanished without a trace, his mood bright as a clear sky.
Their roommate from the neighboring dorm came to deliver their meal. The moment he stepped inside, his gaze fell upon the diamond-studded handheld mic gleaming on Pei Ji’s desk. He rushed over in two long strides, exclaiming, “Holy crap! Who bought the IC1805? Who struck it rich and didn’t tell me?”
Pei Ji glanced at him. “IC1805? You know about this?”
The friend abandoned the food, tossing it aside without a second thought. Rubbing his hands together excitedly, he leaned in for a closer look. “Yeah, that’s the one! Released a few months ago, limited edition—part of the ‘Starlight’ or ‘Cosmic River’ series, I can’t remember exactly. Sells for four or five hundred thousand! There are only a handful in the entire country, and I never thought I’d see one right here with you!”
Pei Ji frowned, puzzled. “Three thousand?”
“Three thousand? That’s not limited edition material! It’s thirty!” The friend’s voice dripped with envy. “There are only a handful in the entire country, and I never thought I’d see one right here with you!”
As his thoughts drifted back, Pei Ji faintly recalled researching the model number of his microphone, IC1805.
IC1805, the Heart Nebula, glowed with an ethereal crimson light in the cosmos, named for its resemblance to a romantic red heart.
Pei Ji couldn’t remember if he’d ever asked Chu Tinghan why he’d given him that particular microphone, but the answer seemed self-evident. He couldn’t possibly be unaware of what a heart could symbolize.
So, by any measure, his history with Chu Tinghan should have been a sweet, reciprocated love story. Why, then, had reality twisted into this distorted mess? He couldn’t fathom it.
Buzz. His phone suddenly vibrated. Pei Ji picked it up and saw a message from An Zhu.
An Zhu: Call me back when you’re free. I have something important to discuss.
Without hesitation, Pei Ji dialed her number.
She answered almost instantly.
Pei Ji: “Sister An, what’s up?”
A moment of silence hung in the air. “Um… you can just call me An Zhu from now on,” she replied. How could she dare let her brother’s boyfriend call her “Sister”? Unless she was tired of living.
Pei Ji paused, but it was just a matter of titles. He didn’t really care about formalities. “Alright, An Zhu.”
An Zhu finally relaxed and got straight to the point. “Do you remember the song you wrote specifically for Destiny during the competition?”
“I remember. What about it?”
An Zhu’s voice was tinged with excitement. “Destiny absolutely loves the song you wrote! They want to buy it as their official promotional track. What do you say? Want to come to the company and discuss the details?”
Pei Ji felt like he’d been struck by a golden meteorite. “R-really?” he stammered in disbelief.
“Absolutely! If you’re free, come over right away. We need to talk face-to-face.”
Hearing this, Pei Ji rushed to the company at top speed.
In the conference room, President Zhao of Destiny made no attempt to hide his deep admiration for the song.
He never imagined that a single song and performance by Pei Ji could boost Destiny’s brand awareness so dramatically, far surpassing the impact of their advertising campaigns over the past year.
After internal discussions, they decided to purchase the song as Destiny’s official promotional anthem and sincerely invited Pei Ji to perform it solo.
This was an unexpected windfall. Pei Ji had never anticipated such a result. His original intention had been to use the song to increase his own visibility, but through a stroke of luck, he’d somehow struck a chord with Destiny and helped them expand their reach.
Truly, a casual act had blossomed into an unexpected success.
This song had been custom-made for the competition, so being chosen as the promotional track was already beyond expectations. Pei Ji wasn’t one to be ungrateful; after negotiations, they agreed to share the song’s copyright.
The announcement that Pei Ji would perform Destiny‘s promotional track instantly set the internet ablaze. No one had anticipated that the first breakout star from the talent show would be the universally written-off Guest Mentor who’d already had a scandal.
Praise and criticism flooded the web in equal measure, but Pei Ji couldn’t care less. He was long accustomed to such things; the noise barely scratched his skin and posed no real threat.
Besides, Destiny was deep-pocketed, offering a substantial sum. A considerable sum had suddenly appeared in Pei Ji’s account.
What’s the first thing you do when you come into money?
Pei Ji wasn’t thinking about buying anything for himself. Instead, he pondered what gift he should get for Chu Tinghan. After all, his sugar daddy had been supporting him for so long—it was time to repay the favor.
Embarrassingly, despite sharing a roof with Chu Tinghan for so long, Pei Ji still hadn’t figured out his preferences, leaving him utterly clueless about what to buy.
After careful consideration, he realized that Chu Tinghan, with his vast wealth, lacked nothing material. If there was anything he might need, it was emotional validation.
Maybe… a… a date?