After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The variety show Pei Ji was participating in was Huazhang Films’ major investment project for the year. When An Zhu first mentioned it to him, he thought she was joking.

Huazhang Films was a relatively new company, established only a few years ago. Despite its short history, the company’s success stemmed from its CEO’s exceptional investment acumen. Every project they backed became a massive hit, and the company’s reputation and status in the industry skyrocketed accordingly.

Huazhang Films’ projects were now universally recognized as the most coveted resources in the entertainment world, with every agency vying desperately to secure spots for their artists.

How could a variety show backed by such a powerhouse company possibly land on me? Pei Ji wondered. An Zhu had claimed that the director had personally and enthusiastically invited him, even declaring that he was irreplaceable. The director’s tone made it sound as if the show had been custom-made for Pei Ji.

Yet Pei Ji had never even met the director and had no prior connection to him. Why would they specifically choose him?

Even upon arriving at the filming location, Pei Ji remained incredulous. As he watched the bustling staff setting up the set and the numerous cameras trained on him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dreaming.

It truly felt like pies were falling from the sky.

The guests on this show were either A-list celebrities at the peak of their fame, revered Best Actors and Actresses, or legendary figures like Chu Tinghan, the Song God known worldwide. What was he doing here?

A twice-debuted artist trying to make a comeback after a scandal?

Surrounded by such luminaries, he felt utterly out of place.

He even wondered if the director had been drunk when he called An Zhu, saying Pei Ji was the only one who could fill this role.

Just as he was thinking this, the director approached him. After a polite handshake, the director said somewhat apologetically, “The coastal winds are too strong, causing intermittent signal loss. The live broadcast keeps dropping. We might need everyone to wait a bit longer.”

Pei Ji nodded slowly, thinking to himself, Why is the director telling me this personally? Couldn’t he have sent a message or had a staff member pass it on?

Then the director smiled at him and added, “Little Pei, why don’t you relax at the nearby cafe for a while? I’ll come get you as soon as the live stream signal stabilizes.”

That “Little Pei, Teacher Pei” caught Pei Ji completely off guard. It made him sound like some kind of big shot.

Flattered and startled, Pei Ji quickly responded, “You’re too kind. Just call me Little Pei.”

“Alright, Little Pei,” the director chuckled, turning to address the other guests. “The live stream will likely be delayed a bit. Don’t wait around here; find somewhere to relax in the meantime.”

The guests varied in age and personality. A younger-looking, round-eyed man called out, “Hey, there’s an ice cream shop next door. Why don’t we wait there? It’s too far from the RVs to go back now.”

Pei Ji remembered his name: Ban Rui, the most popular member of a currently trending boy group, boasting tens of millions of followers on social media.

At Ban Rui’s suggestion, all the guests followed him into the ice cream shop.

It was the first time the guests had met, and since they didn’t know each other well, there wasn’t much to talk about. Sitting in awkward silence, the atmosphere grew a bit awkward.

Ban Rui noticed a row of board games on a shelf. After browsing through them, he picked out the simplest and most beginner-friendly set.

“Truth or Dare, anyone interested?”

This game was a classic, practically Pei Ji’s companion throughout his school years. Seeing it again instantly made him feel ten years younger.

Perhaps realizing that Truth or Dare might seem a bit childish, Ban Rui scratched his head sheepishly and explained, “Uh… I thought the other games were too complicated. We’d have to study the rules first. This one’s easy for everyone to pick up, and it’ll help us get to know each other better. After all, we’ll be filming the next twelve episodes together, so it’s a good way to build team spirit early on.”

Pei Ji could tell Ban Rui meant well, trying to liven up the atmosphere. Although the game felt a bit old-fashioned, he nodded in agreement.

“Sure, I’m in.”

As soon as Pei Ji replied, the others eagerly followed suit.

Ban Rui pulled out a pen, shuffled the cards again, and explained the rules: “Whoever the pen tip points to gets to choose Truth or Dare. If they choose Dare, they draw a Dare card. If they choose Truth, the person at the other end of the pen draws a Truth card and asks them a question. Got it?”

The game rules sounded like Ban Rui had just made them up on the spot, but they were surprisingly logical and reasonable, so no one objected.

The game officially began. Ban Rui placed a pen in the center of the table and spun it. As the pen slowed, it gradually stopped, pointing at two people.

This set of Truth or Dare cards was fairly standard. The dares weren’t bizarre, and the truths didn’t cross any boundaries. After a few rounds, everyone gradually warmed up, creating an unusually harmonious atmosphere.

Meanwhile, the Program Group had fixed the live stream signal and were making their final preparations. Ban Rui picked up the pen and spun it quickly again.

This was the final round. The pen slowly came to a stop, its tip pointing at Pei Ji, while the other end pointed at Chu Tinghan.

Without hesitation, Pei Ji chose Truth.

Chu Tinghan raised an eyebrow, drew a Truth card from the deck, and stared at it for a long moment. After a pensive pause, he slowly asked, “If I were to make a mistake one day, would you forgive me?”

With that, he tucked the card back into the deck, leaving its true content known only to himself.

Truth or Dare often throws up bizarre, incomprehensible questions, and Pei Ji had seen even stranger ones before. He didn’t think anything of it and replied without hesitation, “Of course.”

Just as he finished speaking, the director’s voice suddenly rang out from a distance. The director waved them over, signaling them to hurry back.

Seeing this, Ban Rui quickly gathered the cards and returned them to the deck. The group gradually made their way back to the live broadcast area.

Pei Ji helped Ban Rui collect the cards and trailed behind. Chu Tinghan walked slowly ahead of him, as if deliberately waiting.

Pei Ji quickened his pace to catch up and walk beside him.

The moment he caught up, Chu Tinghan suddenly asked, “Will you truly forgive me?”

Pei Ji blinked in surprise, puzzled by Chu Tinghan’s persistent fixation on this question.

Chu Tinghan lifted his gaze, his expression unusually earnest as he stared into Pei Ji’s eyes.

Pei Ji smiled. “Of course. Besides, haven’t you already forgiven me?”

At that moment, Chu Tinghan suddenly stopped walking, his face paling as a complex expression flickered across his features.

Perplexed, Pei Ji asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

He reached out to check Chu Tinghan’s forehead for a fever.

Chu Tinghan subtly evaded Pei Ji’s hand and continued walking, his gaze lowered to the footprints in the sand, his voice hoarse, “No.”

The surging seawater soaked the beach, the tide rising and falling, fine sand dissolving into the water and drifting aimlessly back and forth with the waves.

Chu Tinghan felt like those grains of sand, adrift without direction.

Two voices echoed endlessly in his mind:

If I ever make a mistake, will you forgive me?

Of course. Didn’t you forgive me already?

…Too.

That single word, too, was devastatingly perfect, almost sealing his fate.

Pei Ji was likely referring to Chu Tinghan’s past as a deadbeat dad who abandoned his wife and child—yet Chu Tinghan had still married him despite this history.

But… but it was all a lie. There was no mistake, no forgiveness needed.

Chu Tinghan’s heart plummeted into a dark abyss, even the forced smile he wore for the livestream felt strained.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Chu Tinghan’s gaze drifted involuntarily toward Pei Ji. Due to their unique relationship and Chu Tinghan’s troubled expression, Pei Ji couldn’t help but return concerned glances.

The eagle-eyed viewers in the livestream chat naturally noticed this exchange.

Hey, did you guys notice Chu Tinghan keeps staring at Pei Ji?

So it’s not just me! Look now—even though the camera’s focused on Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan’s blurry in the background, it’s still obvious his gaze is locked on Pei Ji.

And it’s not just him! Pei Ji keeps looking back at Chu Tinghan too. What’s going on between them? I don’t remember them having any connection?

Their eyes are practically glued to each other! They’re more attentive to each other than actual couples!

Could they know each other privately? Are they friends?

My friends and I never act like this—their eyes are practically sparking with tension.

The gossip forum next door has already dug up dirt. They really do have a connection, and it’s deeper than you’d think. It’s as dramatic as something from a novel.

Netizens excavate dirt faster than rockets launch. Within moments, photos of Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan from their university graduation days had already surfaced online.

Following the breadcrumbs, they soon uncovered Dreamcatcher, revealing that Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan were direct junior-senior classmates.

Tsk tsk tsk… This relationship is more complicated than it seems. There’s definitely a story here.

I thought I was watching some campus romance drama! Senior-junior dynamics, these photos… it’s hard not to let the imagination run wild!

“They were both captains of Dreamcatcher, one after the other. What a waste if they’re not dating!”

“Anyone from Communication University who knows the truth? What’s the deal with these two?”

An Zhu, a distinguished alumna of Communication University who also knew the truth, felt her head pounding as she read these comments.

When other celebrities appeared on variety shows with their partners, they usually pretended not to be too close, going out of their way to avoid suspicion. But these two? Not only did they ignore all pretense, their eyes never left each other, full of such tender affection it was as if they were desperate to let everyone know they were a couple.

She was starting to suspect her brother had insisted on being on the same show as Pei Ji just to flaunt their relationship.

An Zhu felt her vision blur. She couldn’t clarify the situation, nor could she warn them to tone it down. How could she dare interfere in her Big Brother’s romance with his Big Sister-in-law?

She was pretty sure she was the most powerless manager in history.

The camera panned between the guests, and the live stream’s chat exploded with fans spamming support messages for their favorites.

The introductory stream was brief, lasting less than an hour. Gradually, viewers’ attention shifted to other matters, and the subtle tension between the two men faded from public discourse.

The next day, when Pei Ji returned to the office to see An Zhu, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was holding something back, her words trailing off as if she wanted to say more but didn’t dare.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Is there something you want to say?”

Of course, An Zhu thought to herself.

She desperately wanted to tell Pei Ji to tone it down—they hadn’t even gone public yet. Could you please not show off your romance in front of the cameras?

Alas, she lacked the courage. While Pei Ji had a stable temperament and a generally good temper, Chu Tinghan was notoriously hot-tempered. She couldn’t afford to provoke the Song God. So, she forced an awkward smile and shook her head. “No, nothing.”

Pei Ji frowned slightly, confused. Her smile looked even more bitter than a hundred cups of Chinese medicine.

Noticing he was about to press further, An Zhu quickly changed the subject. “Oh, right! Since the first episode recording is still a while off, I’ve lined up some more work for you. There are a few offline brand events and some short-term variety show appearances—you can probably finish filming those in a day.”

“After careful consideration, I think New Sound of Music is a great fit. It’s a program specifically tailored for emerging singers, aligns perfectly with your career goals, and has high national visibility.”

Pei Ji vaguely remembered New Sound of Music. Its promotional tagline was “Unearthing new voices, promoting the next generation of singers.”

Pei Ji nodded slightly, agreeing that the show seemed promising. But if he remembered correctly, this program was highly coveted within the industry; others would kill to get on it. How could such a golden opportunity have fallen into his lap again?

Last time, An Zhu had said the outdoor variety show was because the director admired him. Could it be that another producer had taken a liking to him this time around?

Pei Ji raised an eyebrow. “Why did they approach me?”

An Zhu hesitated before answering, “Because you’re going in as a last-minute replacement…”

A last-minute replacement? Pei Ji understood immediately. No wonder the offer had come to him—it was a special situation where no one else wanted the job.

An Zhu explained, “The show features collaborative duets. One of the original guest artists was recently embroiled in a personal scandal and had to withdraw. The Program Group urgently needed someone to fill his spot, and you’re stepping in to take his place.”

“Collaborative duets?”

An Zhu nodded.

The Program Group had been navigating the entertainment industry for years; surely they could have found someone else. The reason no one else wanted this gig must be due to issues with the duet partner.

A sudden sense of foreboding washed over Pei Ji. “Who’s my partner?” he asked.

An Zhu pressed her lips together. “Xu Wangxuan.”

At the mention of that name, Pei Ji’s eyes widened in surprise.

Huanyu Crown Prince Xu Wangxuan—the one whose songs sounded eerily similar to mine, yet who possessed neither talent nor integrity?

While others avoided him like the plague, Pei Ji found himself strangely eager to cross paths with this “Crown Prince.”