After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 44

Chapter 44

A paternity test?

Upon hearing these words, Kong Chuan felt as if he’d stumbled into some melodramatic soap opera.

He immediately sat up straight, utterly baffled. “Why would you suddenly want to do that?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he couldn’t resist guessing, “Don’t tell me you suspect your partner’s been cheating and the kid isn’t yours?”

Pei Ji: “……”

What he actually suspected was far more complex: that the child wasn’t biologically theirs at all, but rather a young actor Chu Tinghan had hired to deceive him.

The situation was too convoluted to explain quickly, and Pei Ji wasn’t inclined to elaborate to Kong Chuan. “No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry about it.”

Kong Chuan let out a hesitant “Oh.”

The next morning, Pei Ji handed Kong Chuan samples of his own, Chu Tinghan’s, and Chengcheng’s hair.

As Kong Chuan examined the three strands from different people, he frowned, his gaze shifting between them with a mixture of pity and unspoken understanding.

Just yesterday, he swore his partner wasn’t cheating. Now he’s bringing me the mistress’s hair?

Sigh…

Kong Chuan figured it must be too embarrassing to admit the truth aloud. Pei Ji probably felt too ashamed to confess the full story.

With an air of knowing understanding, he patted Pei Ji on the shoulder, sighed deeply, and shook his head. “Ah, brother, I get it.”

Pei Ji shot him a sidelong glance.

Oh, you understand, do you?

He felt like suggesting Kong Chuan take a right out the door and consult the fortune-teller by the entrance—maybe he’d been possessed by a ghost.

What kind of melodramatic, cliché-ridden garbage is swirling in that head of his?

Kong Chuan’s mind had already drifted off into outer space. Pei Ji couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, wringing his hands as he said, “It’s okay, don’t be sad. Next time…”

A wave of darkness washed over Pei Ji’s vision. He’d come here feeling genuinely heavy-hearted, but Kong Chuan had reduced him to utter speechlessness.

He’d always thought Kong Chuan was more level-headed and reliable than Lü Yi, but it turned out he could be just as bizarrely imaginative.

Pei Ji didn’t even need to guess what Kong Chuan was about to say. He quickly cut him off: “Stop adding drama. There’s no meddling third party here.”

Kong Chuan clicked his tongue, his gaze now tinged with even more pity. He nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

Pei Ji’s forehead creased into a web of dark lines. He seriously doubted that when Kong Chuan finally became a licensed doctor in a few years, his communication issues might actually turn patients with minor ailments into terminally ill cases.

Kong Chuan remained lost in his melodramatic fantasies, and Pei Ji couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. He steered the conversation back to business. “When can we expect the results?”

“Are you in a hurry?” Kong Chuan glanced up at him, then nodded to himself, as if answering his own question. “Oh, you must be quite anxious.”

Pei Ji remained silent.

Kong Chuan calculated the time, then mused, “At the earliest, three days. At the latest, maybe seven.”

Without hesitation, Pei Ji said, “I’ll pay extra.”

Kong Chuan thought, Pei Ji’s situation is already so tragic. How could I possibly take more money from him? Overflowing with sympathy, he declared magnanimously, “No need. My family’s hospital can handle it. You don’t have to pay.”

In the past, Pei Ji had always been meticulous about money. No matter how close their friendship, he never took a single penny’s advantage—what was due was due. But this time, he suddenly changed his mind.

Staring into Kong Chuan’s eyes, which seemed to shout “sucker,” Pei Ji considered for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Thanks.”

Kong Chuan was stunned.

Wait, why isn’t he playing by the rules?

Shouldn’t Pei Ji be polite and refuse? Kong Chuan didn’t really need the money, but Pei Ji’s too-quick acceptance left him feeling utterly unaccomplished. By the time Kong Chuan snapped out of it and tried to press the matter, Pei Ji had already strode away, as if every second spent with him was agony.

Kong Chuan: ……

This detached attitude… Why does it feel so familiar?

It reminded him of those school days when he’d ask Pei Ji for help with a problem. After Pei Ji had patiently explained it three times from start to finish, Kong Chuan still couldn’t grasp it, and Pei Ji would give him that look—the one that said, You’re beyond hope.

The period awaiting the paternity test results coincided with the filming of the first episode of an outdoor variety show.

The filming location for the first episode was a five-A-rated scenic area. To facilitate the shoot, the Program Group had booked a nearby resort.

Chu Tinghan traveled with Pei Ji this time. Along the way, Pei Ji chatted and joked, reverting to his usual intimate demeanor, as if the cold and distant man from just a few days prior had never existed.

Pei Ji’s sudden change was too unnatural. Chu Tinghan couldn’t shake the feeling that something must have happened, but no matter how many people he asked around Pei Ji, he couldn’t uncover the reason.

An Zhu suggested it might be because she had overscheduled Pei Ji’s work, exhausting him with back-to-back projects. She urged Chu Tinghan not to worry too much.

But how could Chu Tinghan not worry?

Pei Ji’s coldness toward him and Chengcheng felt like a complete reversal of his usual behavior, as if he had already discovered the truth.

“Room card,” Pei Ji said, handing him the card after checking in.

Chu Tinghan snapped back to reality and took it a beat late.

Only after going upstairs did he realize that their rooms were at opposite ends of the corridor—one at the far east, the other at the far west, almost spanning the entire length of the hallway.

The hotel elevator was located in the middle of the corridor, meaning they would have to part ways as soon as they stepped out of the elevator.

With each step Pei Ji took away from him, Chu Tinghan’s heart sank deeper.

Chu Tinghan disliked this feeling. After a moment’s hesitation, he suddenly hurried over and grabbed Pei Ji’s arm. “Wait! I just remembered something I forgot to tell you.”

Pei Ji froze, a complex mix of emotions flashing through his eyes. His brow furrowed involuntarily, and he even forgot to pull his arm away.

What does he want to say?

Could it be that Chu Tinghan feels guilty, has finally realized his actions were too extreme, and is about to confess everything and apologize?

Their gazes locked for a fleeting moment. Pei Ji, overwhelmed by tension, momentarily lost control of his expression. It took him a beat to smooth his brow, feigning ignorance, and even managed a charming smile as he asked, “What is it?”

Chu Tinghan averted his gaze, unable to meet Pei Ji’s eyes directly. After a moment of silence, he said, “Um… Chengcheng said he wants us to buy some souvenirs to take back.”

At these words, the taut string in Pei Ji’s heart snapped, and his heart suddenly turned cold.

Even now, he’s still putting on an act? Does he really think I’m a fool?

I shouldn’t have entertained the hope that Chu Tinghan would ever confess or apologize.

The smile on Pei Ji’s face faded slightly as he pulled his arm from Chu Tinghan’s grasp. “I see,” he said coldly.

With those words, he turned and walked away without looking back, leaving Chu Tinghan frozen in place, utterly bewildered.

The long, empty corridor stretched endlessly before him, and a sudden premonition washed over Chu Tinghan.

Has Pei Ji already found out something?

All afternoon, Pei Ji hadn’t contacted Chu Tinghan once.

Finally, Chu Tinghan couldn’t resist any longer. He walked to Pei Ji’s door, stood outside hesitating for a moment, and just as he raised his hand to knock, the door suddenly swung open.

Pei Ji, unaware Chu Tinghan was there, froze mid-motion, his expression clearly startled. “Is there something you need?”

“Where are you going?”

The two spoke almost simultaneously. Pei Ji answered first, “For a night run.”

He lowered his gaze to Chu Tinghan, waiting for a response, but Chu Tinghan merely moved his lips without uttering a word.

Pei Ji couldn’t help but find the situation amusing. Chu Tinghan had pulled him back when he was leaving the elevator, and now he was blocking his way out the door. What exactly does he want?

Pei Ji barely managed to retain a shred of patience. “Is there something? If not, I’m leaving.”

Chu Tinghan forced a strained smile. “I heard the scenery around here is nice. I’ll join you.”

The “night run” was just a pretext; Pei Ji actually wanted to go out to clear his head, and he certainly didn’t want to bring along someone who was only going to irritate him.

Not wanting to be too harsh, he offered a plausible excuse: “There are paparazzi lurking outside. Two of us together would attract too much attention.”

Chu Tinghan understood the message. Knowing it was futile to press further, he stepped aside and watched Pei Ji walk away.

Only after Pei Ji’s figure vanished from sight did Chu Tinghan numbly shuffle back to his room.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the sofa to calm his roiling emotions. After a moment, he dialed Zhou Yingjie’s number.

Zhou Yingjie was walking his dogs in the park at the time, leash in one hand and phone in the other. “Looking for Lucky or me?”

Chu Tinghan’s voice was barely a whisper. “You… and Lucky.”

Sensing something was amiss in Chu Tinghan’s tone, Zhou Yingjie paused mid-stride, yanking back the two dogs straining to run ahead. “W-what’s wrong?”

“I suspect he might already know.”

Zhou Yingjie was stunned, his voice rising an octave. “What? No way! Why do you think that? I don’t think it would be this soon. Xu Zicheng’s acting is pretty convincing—”

Mid-sentence, a familiar figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Before he could react, Lucky suddenly lifted his head and barked loudly at the person.

Startled, Zhou Yingjie frantically yanked on the leash, trying to hide behind a tree, but Lucky refused to obey, straining relentlessly forward.

Just as he was about to collide with the other person, Zhou Yingjie’s forehead broke out in a cold sweat. Without a second thought, he scooped Lucky up in his arms. At sixty pounds, Lucky was heavy, but Zhou Yingjie’s regular workouts paid off; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to run more than a few steps.

Zhou Yingjie clamped his hand over Lucky’s mouth to stifle any noise and hid in the shadows, where the streetlights couldn’t reach.

Lucky had calmed down, but his silly son was still standing out in the open.

Lowering his voice, Zhou Yingjie called out his Alaskan’s name while holding a chew toy. The dog finally shook his head and trotted over to Zhou Yingjie’s side, settling down beside him.

Chu Tinghan, unaware of the commotion on Zhou Yingjie’s end, assumed the signal had cut out when the line went silent. “Hello?”

Pei Ji was only five meters away. In a panic, Zhou Yingjie hung up the phone, nearly crushing Lucky under his weight to keep him still.

Only after Pei Ji had moved far enough away did Zhou Yingjie finally exhale in relief.

Lucky, unable to spot Pei Ji, hung his tail low and paced in circles, sniffing frantically.

The little dog’s pitiful whimpers hung in the air like a thread. Zhou Yingjie felt like the world’s greatest sinner.

The phone rang again. Zhou Yingjie answered, his voice still shaky. “I just saw Pei Ji.”

Chu Tinghan froze. “…What did you say?”

“I saw Pei Ji earlier, but I hid in time. He didn’t spot us, but Lucky seems really upset now…” Zhou Yingjie said guiltily, glancing at the white ball of fur curled up under the tree a few meters away.

At that moment, Lucky was huddled pitifully against the tree, its ears and tail drooping. It ignored both people and dogs alike.

When Zhou Yingjie approached it, Lucky let out a low whine and turned its head away, as if still angry with him.

Despite all Zhou Yingjie’s coaxing, Lucky refused to move. In the end, he had no choice but to call a car to take them home.

The next day, dark clouds blanketed the sky, rain poured down incessantly, and the air hung heavy with dampness, making it hard to breathe.

Before filming his variety show, Chu Tinghan had a scheduled brand livestream event.

While his styling team worked on him, they chatted idly nearby.

“It was sunny this morning! How did it suddenly start raining?”

“Ugh, I hate rainy days. We had planned an outdoor livestream, the set was all set up, but now we have to move it indoors.”

“Yeah, it’s so dark out. Setting up the lights is going to be a real pain.”

Buzz. Chu Tinghan’s phone suddenly vibrated—a call from Zhou Yingjie.

Rain pattered softly through the phone, and Zhou Yingjie’s voice sounded unusually frantic: “Tinghan, I need to tell you something… You… you need to brace yourself.”

He paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “This morning, when Aunt went out, she didn’t close the door properly. Lucky must have slipped out. I’ve been searching everywhere all morning—”

Crash! Chu Tinghan lost his grip on the phone, which slid from his hand and crashed to the floor.

Without a second thought for work, he snatched up the phone and bolted out, forgetting even to grab an umbrella.

Hearing the commotion, Zhou Yingjie quickly reassured him: “Don’t panic yet. I’ve already got people helping me search. Lucky doesn’t know the area well, so he couldn’t have gone far.”

“Tinghan, I’m so sorry. It was my carelessness that let Lucky escape. I promise I’ll get him back. I’ve even sent Yuanbao to help—his nose is so sharp, he’ll definitely sniff out where Lucky went.”

The rain intensified, forming a massive net that trapped him in place.

Chu Tinghan was instantly soaked through by the fine rain, the world around him growing darker and blurrier.

His vision blurred, and he was on the verge of passing out.

Guan Nan rushed over with an umbrella and caught him just in time. “Director Chu, why aren’t you carrying an umbrella in this downpour? You have a livestream later! What if you catch a cold or fever?”

Chu Tinghan’s head hung low, like an empty shell drained of its soul, utterly unresponsive.

Guan Nan, disregarding everything else, struggled to support him back inside.

Seeing the situation, the other staff members tactfully left on their own.

Chu Tinghan’s clothes were soaked through, rain dripping onto the floor, leaving dark puddles.

The room was deathly silent; Guan Nan barely dared to breathe. Noticing Chu Tinghan shivering, he poured a cup of hot water and carefully held it out. “Director Chu, drink some water to warm up—”

“Cancel the livestream,” Chu Tinghan rasped, his voice hoarse.

Guan Nan froze.

The livestream was scheduled to begin this afternoon; canceling it now would have unimaginable consequences.

But Chu Tinghan was his superior. How could he disobey a direct order?

Guan Nan could only nod and say, “Yes, Director.”

Though Guan Nan outwardly agreed, he immediately called for backup the moment he left the room. “Uncle Wu, you need to get over here right away. Director Chu’s in terrible shape, but I can’t get him to talk about what’s wrong. You’re probably the only one who can reason with him right now.”

Uncle Wu, whose real name was Wu Qian, had been Chu Tinghan’s manager since his teenage debut. He had watched Chu Tinghan grow up and was more like family than just a manager.

For the past few months, Wu Qian had been caring for his gravely ill mother back home. He’d only returned a few days ago, after her condition improved.

But the world had completely changed in his absence. Chu Tinghan had secretly gotten married—to a small-time celebrity who had rebounded from a major scandal.

Before Wu Qian could even address this bombshell, another crisis landed on his doorstep.

Yet his gut told him these issues were connected. “Does this have anything to do with Pei Ji, his new husband?” Wu Qian asked, his voice heavy with worry.

Guan Nan didn’t dare pry into such personal matters. He could only say he didn’t know and urge Wu Qian to hurry over.

When Wu Qian rushed to Chu Tinghan’s dressing room, he arrived just as Chu Tinghan was about to leave.

Without hesitation, Wu Qian blocked his path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Chu Tinghan hung his head, silent.

Seeing Chu Tinghan’s still-damp hair and unkempt clothes, Wu Qian immediately knew something serious had happened.

But canceling the live stream now would severely damage Chu Tinghan’s reputation. After weighing the options for a moment, Wu Qian pleaded earnestly, “Tinghan, do you realize how much we’d have to pay in breach-of-contract penalties if we canceled now? The brand is looking for a long-term partnership and has been incredibly accommodating. You can’t just slap them in the face like this.”

“Besides, they’ve already set up the venue and promoted the event for days across all major platforms. If you back out now, all their efforts will have been for nothing.”

“We’ve worked so hard to rebuild your image—we can’t just let it crumble like this, can we?”

“Xiao Chu, you’re not a teenager anymore. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. Whatever it is, we can discuss it after the live stream. There’s no rush.”

“No, that’s not it,” Chu Tinghan finally spoke, breaking his long silence.

Wu Qian’s heart sank as he saw the terrifying pallor of Chu Tinghan’s face. All the reprimands he had prepared died on his lips.

Chu Tinghan’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling. “Uncle Wu… Lucky is missing…”

Wu Qian fell silent instantly. After a long pause, he asked tentatively, “You… you mean the puppy you rescued?”

Chu Tinghan nodded numbly.

Years ago, he had rescued two puppies. One he named Lucky, the other Pei Ji.