After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 43

Chapter 43

On the way back, Pei Ji suddenly remembered that Chu Tinghan had once mentioned his parents to him.

At the time, Pei Ji had been eager to see Chengcheng, but Chu Tinghan had said Chengcheng was with his parents.

But their relationship is so strained, and his parents treat him so badly—how could he trust them to care for Chengcheng?

His parents don’t even like him, their own son. Why would they want to look after their grandson? Besides, Father Chu is still unwell; he needs help walking. How could he possibly have the energy to watch a child?

Pei Ji was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the green light ahead until the car behind him honked, jolting him awake. He quickly accelerated forward.

Chu Tinghan sensed his preoccupation. “What were you thinking about just now?”

To Chu Tinghan, his parents were like a festering wound. Pei Ji didn’t want to bring up these painful people in front of him. He considered saying it was nothing, but the confusion was too persistent. After a long hesitation, he finally dared to ask, “Didn’t you say before that Chengcheng was raised by your parents when he was young?”

Chu Tinghan couldn’t shake the feeling that Pei Ji was implying something, but he couldn’t quite decipher his true meaning.

After a moment, Pei Ji, keeping his eyes on the road, continued driving and asked in the most casual tone, “Why did you two suddenly quarrel today?”

Pei Ji regretted asking the question the moment it left his lips. His question felt like rubbing salt into Chu Tinghan’s wounds. Since he couldn’t retract the words, he hastily tried to salvage the situation. “They upset you, didn’t they? How about I take you back there another day to get revenge?”

Chu Tinghan turned his gaze out the window, staring absently at the receding scenery as if he hadn’t heard Pei Ji’s words.

They were the only two in the car, sitting less than half a meter apart. Pei Ji didn’t believe Chu Tinghan hadn’t heard him, but he called out again, “Tinghan?”

Chu Tinghan turned back to look at him, but instead of continuing the conversation about his parents, he abruptly changed the subject, “About that movie premiere you mentioned earlier—I’ve cleared my schedule for that day. I can go with you.”

The mention of the premiere instantly diverted Pei Ji’s thoughts, filling him with a surge of excitement: “Really?”

Pei Ji nodded, humming in acknowledgment.

This film was a sci-fi project Zhou Yingjie had shot four years prior. Due to the immense difficulty of its special effects and the director’s meticulous perfectionism, it took a full four years of painstaking refinement, including countless reshoots, to finally reach its release. The production journey was fraught with twists and turns.

Half a year prior, the director had even invited Pei Ji to sing the theme song, but Pei Ji, still recovering from his car accident, simply wasn’t in the mood to belt out an upbeat anthem and declined.

Having close relationships with both the director and the lead actors, Pei Ji would have invited him to the premiere even if he hadn’t been invited himself.

It wasn’t about flaunting their relationship, but rather about introducing his handsome, talented, and capable young husband to the industry big shots attending the premiere.

On the day of the premiere, the venue was packed. The A-list cast and director drew significant media attention.

Those who had received invitations gained access to the venue and direct interaction with the cast and crew, while the uninvited lingered outside, eagerly awaiting the premiere’s conclusion to interview the creatives and celebrity guests.

In private, Chu Tinghan would personally introduce Pei Ji to every industry big shot, one by one. But in front of the media, he maintained a composed demeanor, avoiding any overt displays of affection and sitting a good eight feet away from Pei Ji.

Less trouble is always better. There would be plenty of opportunities to assert his dominance later, but now wasn’t the time.

The film, two and a half hours long, moved at a brisk pace, with a clear and compelling plotline. From the actors’ performances to the post-production, it was virtually flawless. As the credits rolled, thunderous applause erupted throughout the theater.

Everyone cheered and applauded the creative team, except for Pei Ji, who belatedly raised his hand to clap a few times. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, as if he hadn’t yet fully emerged from the film’s world.

A particular frame haunted his mind: a youthful face in the crowd that seemed eerily familiar.

Just yesterday, that adorable face had belonged to his biological son. Now, it was the orphaned child of a minor character in the film.

He had to admit, the first half of the film was brilliant, but it paled in comparison to the drama of his own life.

He suspected he was living in a play, one where everyone else knew the script but him.

The applause in the venue had long since faded as the director addressed the media, recounting the arduous journey of creating the film.

“The pre-production phase alone took nearly three years. The post-production was immensely challenging, delaying the release for another four years…”

Four years… Considering Chengcheng’s age, he hadn’t even been born four years ago. How could he possibly have participated in the film’s production?

Pei Ji’s mind wavered again.

The scene lasted less than three seconds, with the child’s face hidden in the corner behind the protagonist, serving as mere background scenery.

The image flashed by so quickly—could he have been mistaken?

People often resemble each other. Could it be that the recent events had made him suspicious, causing him to see shadows where none existed?

He couldn’t fathom why Chu Tinghan would go to such elaborate lengths to find a child to impersonate his son.

Pei Ji had thought he understood Chu Tinghan somewhat, but in that moment, he realized that Chu Tinghan’s mind was like a deep well with no bottom.

Based on his understanding of Chu Tinghan, Pei Ji couldn’t find a single rational explanation. He was utterly baffled by Chu Tinghan’s true intentions.

After the premiere ended, Pei Ji followed Chu Tinghan’s instructions to meet him in the underground parking garage at a staggered time and via separate routes.

Arriving early, Pei Ji sat in the car waiting.

The underground garage was eerily silent, and Pei Ji found himself uncontrollably revisiting the question that had been plaguing him:

Had he misread Chu Tinghan, or was Chu Tinghan lying to him?

The answer to this question was critical, as it would determine the future course of their relationship.

Deep down, Pei Ji desperately hoped it was the former. Yet his subconscious, along with lingering doubts from the past, insisted it was the latter.

A splitting headache threatened to overwhelm him. Deciding to set the matter aside for now, he turned on the car stereo and played some soothing music to calm his mind.

Moments later, Chu Tinghan arrived at the car. Even before getting in, he noticed Pei Ji leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest, his brow deeply furrowed—clearly not himself.

Lost in his turbulent thoughts, Pei Ji hadn’t even heard Chu Tinghan enter the car. He only snapped awake when Chu Tinghan pressed the back of his hand to Pei Ji’s forehead to check his temperature.

Pei Ji seized Chu Tinghan’s wrist with a sudden grip, so tight it made Chu Tinghan wince slightly.

Pei Ji froze for a moment before releasing his grip. “Are you alright?”

In the past, Pei Ji would have leaned in to examine Chu Tinghan’s injury, then gently massage it. But now, beyond this perfunctory question, he showed no further reaction.

How could Pei Ji become so distant just from watching a movie together?

Chu Tinghan slowly withdrew his hand and leaned back in the passenger seat. “Feeling unwell?” he ventured.

Pei Ji’s tone remained flat. “No.”

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“I’m really fine.”

Twice rebuffed by Pei Ji’s terse replies, Chu Tinghan, though still puzzled, had no choice but to drop the matter.

That day, he naively assumed Pei Ji was merely tired or feeling under the weather, explaining his coldness. He never imagined this distance would persist for an extended period.

As time passed, something seemed to be shifting between them.

The person remained the same, yet a vital thread of concern for him had frayed.

Chu Tinghan couldn’t understand what was happening. Why had Pei Ji’s attitude toward him changed so drastically after returning from the premiere? Even his fatherly affection for Chengcheng seemed to be gradually fading.

This situation terrified Chu Tinghan. He feared that Pei Ji had seen through his elaborate scheme.

A few days later, Pei Ji suddenly announced he had to go on a long trip, asking Chu Tinghan to take care of Chengcheng.

When Chu Tinghan asked where he was going, Pei Ji turned and smiled at him, saying it was just for a film shoot and he’d be back in a few days. “Don’t worry too much,” he said.

This was the first time Pei Ji had smiled at him since returning from the premiere. Chu Tinghan knew he should feel relieved, but instead, a cold dread washed over him.

The smile wasn’t genuine—a forced, superficial expression that Chu Tinghan saw through instantly.

Pei Ji had always been meticulous about sharing his plans, but this time, he was evasive.

So what was he really up to?

Half a day later, Pei Ji arrived on the earliest flight at the place where they had once played Truth or Dare.

Back then, he had always found Chu Tinghan’s questions strangely worded, as if there were hidden meanings. But out of trust, he hadn’t pressed further, even when his suspicions arose.

This time, however, he refused to rely on trust alone. He needed to see that Truth card with his own eyes before drawing any conclusions.

He bought every Truth or Dare set in the store and sat there, spreading out card after card across the table, examining them one by one from daybreak until nightfall. He searched three times over, but that particular Truth card was nowhere to be found.

Staring at the chaotic mess of cards sprawled across the table, Pei Ji felt his vision blur. He suddenly realized how utterly ridiculous he had been.

How could the Truth card not be there? It’s just not the Truth card printed on the card, but Chu Tinghan’s true feelings.

He had been played like a fool all along.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t harbored doubts before, but each time, his boundless trust in Chu Tinghan had forced those suspicions back into the depths of his heart.

He hadn’t dared to suspect, haunted by others’ accusations that he was a heartless man who had betrayed true love and abandoned his husband and child.

He had refused to suspect, knowing that some bonds, once fractured, could never be restored.

But now…

But all these thoughts turned into sharp swords, piercing his own heart and making his sincerity seem utterly ridiculous.

Pei Ji gathered up the cards one by one, returned them to the deck, and downed a glass of ice water.

He stayed at the cold drinks shop until closing time. As the lights went out, plunging the world back into darkness, he stood by the shore, watching the churning sea, utterly lost. He didn’t know where to go.

Should he go back? Should he return to pretending ignorance and continue acting alongside Chu Tinghan in this charade?

Or should he confront him, demanding to know why he had been deceived? Did he find it amusing to play him for a fool?

He couldn’t accept either option.

At that moment, he felt more lost than a ship adrift at sea.

His phone suddenly rang, snapping him out of his reverie. Pei Ji found a spot by the shore to sit down and answered the call.

It was Lü Yi, his voice brimming with excitement: “I had my wedding photos taken with my wife today! We changed locations three times, and my back is killing me. You wouldn’t believe how stiff my face got from smiling so much. And to top it off, I’m such a sentimental sap—I actually cried when she stood before me in her wedding dress! My wife’s been teasing me about it ever since.”

“Hey, did you cry when you saw your partner walk out in their wedding dress? I can’t be the only sentimental one in the world, right?”

Hearing this, Pei Ji’s arm dropped, and he put his phone down.

Ha… Partner, wedding dress, wife?

He didn’t have any of those things. It was all a lie.

He stood up, picked up a seashell, and tossed it into the sea without saying a word.

Listening to the crashing waves, Lü Yi suddenly felt an ominous premonition. Panicked, he blurted out, “Bro, where are you? Don’t do anything rash!”

“Please, don’t do anything rash! Stay put and wait for me—I’m coming to find you. Trust me, people who drown look awful afterward. You’re way too handsome to end up bloated and disfigured in the sea.”

Before Pei Ji could respond, Lü Yi was already frantically pulling on his clothes, babbling frantically as he grabbed his car keys. Just as he was about to rush out the door to find him, a voice suddenly came through the phone.

“Fuck off. Who’s talking about dying?”

Lü Yi: …

Wait, he’s cursing now?

Still, his friend’s life was more important than hurt feelings. He brushed it off and pressed on, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

Pei Ji paused, sensing the distress in Pei Ji’s voice. A sudden realization struck him. “Did you have a fight with your partner?” he asked cautiously.

Pei Ji’s hand, mid-skip with a seashell, froze. “…No.”

The despondency in his tone was worse than a divorce. Lü Yi immediately understood and insisted on coming to find him.

Pei Ji, already agitated, found Lü Yi’s barrage of concern unbearable. Though he knew it came from good intentions, he couldn’t endure the relentless questioning. “I’m not in the city,” he said flatly. “Don’t come looking for me. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I won’t be dying anytime soon.”

“Seriously?” Lü Yi remained unconvinced. “Then swear on your career! If you’re lying, you’ll never be famous for the rest of your life!”

Pei Ji: “……”

Has Lü Yi gone mad with happiness? he wondered. What kind of ridiculous oath is that? He should go back and take wedding photos with his wife.

“Fine, fine, fine! I’ll never be famous again. Goodbye.”

Pei Ji, already on edge, found his thoughts even more jumbled after the call. He lost his mood for sitting by the sea and checked into a nearby hotel.

Pei Ji emerged from the shower to find his phone ringing on the bedside table. The caller ID showed Chu Tinghan.

He sat on the edge of the bed, towel-drying his hair, and let the phone ring for an extended time without answering.

How am I supposed to face Chu Tinghan? he wondered.

Too drained to do anything, Pei Ji tossed the towel aside and sat motionless on the bed, not even bothering to dry his hair.

The phone rang again and again. After a moment’s hesitation, Pei Ji picked it up, swiping right to answer and left to decline. Finally, with a sigh, he silenced the phone.

Little did he know, his world was about to descend into further chaos.

As if terrified of losing contact with him, Chu Tinghan relentlessly sent a barrage of messages. One after another, the notifications flooded Pei Ji’s screen, leaving him dizzy.

Pei Ji picked up his phone, mentally bracing himself, and answered with weary resignation, “What is it? I was in the shower earlier and didn’t hear it.”

Chu Tinghan remained silent, but Pei Ji could faintly discern the sound of a long, relieved exhale.

After a moment, Chu Tinghan finally spoke, “You…”

“Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m heading back tomorrow,” Pei Ji said, cutting him off. He hung up immediately, not wanting to speak to anyone.

The next day, instead of rushing back to Chu Tinghan, Pei Ji went to the cinema closest to the airport and bought a ticket for the earliest screening.

The 9 AM screening was sparsely attended. Pei Ji sat alone and watched the film again, desperately trying to confirm the child’s face.

Could he have been mistaken? Chu Tinghan wouldn’t lie to him, would he?

But the face was unmistakably identical to Chengcheng’s. The answer was inescapable.

He needed to know who this child was. What if Chu Tinghan had simply decided on a whim to introduce Chengcheng to the entertainment industry early?

So he watched the second, third, and fourth screenings. Finally, scrolling through the densely packed credits, he found a name:

Xu Zicheng.

The only name in the cast list that could possibly be connected to Chengcheng was this one: Xu, not Chu.

As the end credits finished rolling, the screen faded back to gray.

Pei Ji’s heart ached so fiercely it felt like it was bleeding, yet he suddenly laughed.

How utterly foolish I’ve been, he thought. To let such a riddled plot ensnare me for half a year.

And just moments ago, he had still been making excuses for Chu Tinghan, clinging to the hope that he had simply misunderstood him.

The theater emptied completely, leaving him alone in the cavernous hall.

His mind buzzed, and he forgot to leave, lost in the delusion that he himself was a character in the play.

It wasn’t until the cleaning lady came to clear the trash and asked him to move that Pei Ji stumbled out of the theater.

He sat in the cinema complex for a while, calming down. Once his emotions had stabilized, he pulled out his phone and called Kong Chuan.

Kong Chuan was off-duty and sounded surprised to receive the call. “What’s up?”

Pei Ji paused, then said, “Help me get a paternity test done.”

It was time for this play to end.