After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Before receiving the paternity test results, Kong Chuan had rehearsed two scenarios in his mind, preparing two drafts.

He had it all planned out: if the child was biologically related to Pei Ji, he would advise him to cherish his relationship with his partner and stop being paranoid. If there was no biological connection, he would urge Pei Ji to gather solid evidence and expose their affair once and for all.

But Kong Chuan never anticipated a third outcome.

“Hiss… This can’t be right. How could… how could there be no biological relationship at all?” Kong Chuan paced back and forth in the living room, the paternity test report clutched in his hand. Every few steps, he would glance at the document again, desperately hoping the results would somehow change.

But the stark black letters on the white paper remained unchanged. He hadn’t misread it—the child was unequivocally unrelated to either of them.

Ding-dong. The doorbell suddenly rang.

Today was a rare day off for Kong Chuan, allowing him to rest at home. At this hour, only Pei Ji would be visiting him.

The bizarre test results felt like a hot potato in his hands. His carefully prepared mental drafts were useless, leaving him unsure how to face Pei Ji. Only after the doorbell rang a third time did he steel himself, forcing a fake smile as he opened the door.

His smile was so stiff, it looked worse than crying. Pei Ji glanced at him curiously, his brow furrowing involuntarily.

Kong Chuan stood at the door like a wall. Only after Pei Ji coughed to remind him did he belatedly step aside, forcing a strained smile. “Please, come in.”

As soon as Pei Ji entered, he cut to the chase: “Where’s the paternity test report?”

Kong Chuan, feeling guilty, touched his neck and turned away to rummage through a cabinet. Pei Ji assumed he was retrieving the report and didn’t press the issue.

A few minutes later, Kong Chuan returned with a tea box and arranged cups on the coffee table, pretending to prepare tea. He launched into irrelevant small talk. “I just bought some new Pu’er tea. Want to try it?”

Without waiting for Pei Ji’s reply, he began brewing the tea.

Pei Ji raised his eyebrows, staring at him in disbelief. “I didn’t come here for tea today,” he pointed out bluntly.

Kong Chuan’s hand jerked, nearly spilling the hot water. His forced smile grew even stiffer. “I know, I know! I haven’t forgotten the real reason you’re here. Just have some tea first, and I’ll get the report for you.”

By the time Pei Ji had finished his cup, Kong Chuan slowly returned, his expression complex and hesitant. “Um… you should brace yourself. The results weren’t what we expected, but you need to stay strong.”

Kong Chuan was taking far too long, and Pei Ji’s patience snapped. He snatched the DNA test report from his hand.

Kong Chuan’s face paled in alarm, and he scrambled for excuses: “This result might not be accurate. There could have been errors during the testing process, or maybe… think carefully—could you have mixed up the samples? Could it be someone else’s hair?”

“No mistake,” Pei Ji said coldly, his eyes darkening.

The test results confirmed his suspicions: Chengcheng was indeed not related to him or Chu Tinghan by blood.

Chengcheng wasn’t their son—he was merely an actor playing the role.

Kong Chuan, unaware of the truth, assumed Pei Ji was furious about the test results and mocking him.

But the paternity test was a matter of paramount importance to Pei Ji’s happiness, and Kong Chuan had bungled it. He had no right to defend himself.

As Pei Ji turned to leave, Kong Chuan, feeling a pang of guilt, hurriedly called out, “Wait! Let me run another test for you!”

Pei Ji froze mid-step, but didn’t turn around, leaving Kong Chuan with only his back. Kong Chuan saw his shoulders heave slightly, as if he were sighing.

“No need. The results are accurate.” With those words, Pei Ji strode away without looking back.

Kong Chuan inexplicably sensed a hint of weariness in Pei Ji’s receding figure.

What’s happened? Why does he seem so odd today?

Kong Chuan stood at the doorway for a long time, still puzzling over it. He wondered if he’d stumbled upon the world’s eleventh greatest unsolved mystery.

A sudden clap of thunder boomed across the sky, followed by dark clouds gathering overhead. The sunlight was blotted out, plunging the world into a gray gloom as raindrops began to fall, gradually intensifying into a downpour.

In the blink of an eye, the weather had transformed, as if the world had changed entirely.

The howling wind and torrential rain roared past, puddles forming rapidly on the road. Just as Pei Ji was about to step into the downpour, someone abruptly grabbed his arm.

Kong Chuan, panting and clutching an umbrella, exclaimed, “Good thing I ran fast! You’re still here. It’s pouring—you weren’t planning to walk home in this, were you?”

He couldn’t fathom what had happened to Pei Ji, making him want to drench himself in the rain like a melodramatic protagonist.

But since Pei Ji wouldn’t say, Kong Chuan felt too awkward to pry. He could only shove the umbrella into Pei Ji’s hand, saying stiffly, “I don’t want to see you in the fever clinic at the hospital.”

Pei Ji froze for a moment, catching the umbrella that nearly slipped from his grasp. “Thanks. I’ll treat you to dinner another time.”

Just then, his phone rang abruptly, the ringtone even louder than the thunder outside. He glanced down at the screen and immediately hung up.

Sensing something unusual, Kong Chuan asked softly, “Did you… have a fight with your partner?”

Pei Ji replied flatly, “No.”

Kong Chuan didn’t believe him for a second. Pei Ji’s expression reminded him exactly of his own when he and his girlfriend were locked in a cold war years ago.

But his intuition told him Pei Ji’s troubles went far beyond a simple lovers’ quarrel.

After a moment’s thought, Kong Chuan patted his chest with sincere concern. “You can ask me about relationship problems, you know. I’ve got more experience than you. Maybe I can give you some advice.”

He didn’t actually expect Pei Ji to seek his counsel, but a moment later, a deep voice rumbled in his ear.

Pei Ji gave him a sidelong glance and asked, “If your girlfriend lied to you one day, what would you do?”

“Huh?” Kong Chuan’s confident smile froze on his face. He hesitated, then said, “Well… it depends on the lie, doesn’t it?”

Pei Ji’s expression remained impassive, but his voice was chillingly cold as he pressed further, “What if she used extreme measures to trick you into marrying her?”

A marriage built on deception? Or something far more extreme?

Kong Chuan immediately broke out in goosebumps. He rubbed his arm uneasily, wracking his brain for what seemed like an eternity, yet no words came to him.

This question was far beyond his capabilities; he was willing, but utterly powerless to answer.

Pei Ji had anticipated this outcome. He tugged at the corner of his mouth in a humorless smile. “Let’s go. Tell me when you’re free, and the city’s restaurants and hotels are yours to choose from.”

Pei Ji’s figure gradually receded, blurring in the rain. Kong Chuan felt like he’d just encountered the world’s twelfth-greatest unsolved mystery.

Pei Ji parked his car in a nearby lot, about a few hundred meters from Kong Chuan’s home.

On the way, his phone rang again, its shrill tone a nightmare echoing through the rain, a relentless torment.

This was Chu Tinghan’s fifth call. Deep down, Pei Ji hated the cold silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer, unsure how to face the situation and irritated by the persistent interruptions.

Should he continue playing dumb, pretending nothing was wrong? Or confront Chu Tinghan directly?

No answer came.

Yet the ringing grew louder, more insistent. If he ignored this one, the sixth, seventh, and endless calls would follow, until he finally replied.

Pei Ji finally answered the call, but before he could speak, Chu Tinghan’s anxious voice rushed into his ear: “Where are you right now?”

“I’m out having dinner with a friend,” Pei Ji replied calmly. “What’s wrong?”

Normally, Chu Tinghan would grill him like a drill sergeant, peppering him with questions about who he was with, where they were eating, and when he’d be home.

But this time, Chu Tinghan seemed to have forgotten those questions. After a brief silence, he said, “Mm, it’s raining. The roads are slippery. Be careful.”

Perhaps because the rain had come so suddenly and unexpectedly, Pei Ji found Chu Tinghan’s behavior slightly odd.

The call remained connected, but Chu Tinghan didn’t say another word.

Seeing no point in prolonging the awkward silence, Pei Ji broke it first. “Is there anything else?”

He was met only with an endless silence.

Pei Ji felt as if Chu Tinghan were a car that had driven into deep water. After sputtering forward a few steps, it had completely submerged and gone silent. Only by dragging him out of the depths could it ever be restarted.

Raindrops the size of beans pounded against the umbrella. Pei Ji had no time to waste standing in the downpour. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to hang up.”

After hanging up, he silenced his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, granting himself a brief moment of quiet respite.

Kong Chuan, his best friend of nearly a decade, would never fabricate paternity test results. Judging by his reaction, he was likely just as shocked by the results.

Multiple pieces of evidence pointed to the same conclusion: Chengcheng wasn’t his child with Chu Tinghan.

Yet he couldn’t fathom why Chu Tinghan would resort to such a twisted scheme, nor how he had orchestrated so many people to participate in this elaborate charade, executing it so flawlessly.

Even the Best Actor couldn’t nail a scene in a single take. How could ordinary people around him not only pull off perfect performances in a single take, but sustain them flawlessly, like a seamless, uninterrupted long shot that stretched on indefinitely?

It defied all logic, didn’t it?

The first time he heard about their supposed child was also the day he confronted Chu Tinghan for the first time. Guan Nan’s anger and disgust that day seemed too genuine to be faked.

Could it be possible that they truly had something akin to a child, and Chu Tinghan simply seized the opportunity to twist the situation, exaggerating the truth and replacing whatever that thing was with a real child? That would explain the airtight facade he had presented to him.

But what could that “something” have been?

The question lingered stubbornly in his mind as he unconsciously found himself standing before his car.

A grayish-white patch peeked out from beneath the SUV. Hearing footsteps, the patch suddenly stirred and gradually moved outward toward him.

Could this be the large white furball from my subconscious?

Pei Ji felt a wave of disorientation wash over him. He lowered his head slightly, cautiously peering under the car.

The next moment, a drenched, mud-caked Samoyed struggled to crawl out from under the SUV. Overcome with excitement, the dog accidentally bumped its head against the undercarriage, but it seemed oblivious to the pain, its front and hind legs working in unison to propel itself forward relentlessly.

The instant it emerged completely, the Samoyed bounded straight toward him, leaping against his body.

The dog alternated between standing on its hind legs and bouncing against his legs and circling him with a wagging tail, all while emitting pathetic whimpers.

Pei Ji’s mind reeled. This scene felt eerily familiar, yet he couldn’t recall the lost memory it evoked.

Staring at the wildly tail-wagging, excited puppy before him, Pei Ji paused for a moment before, as if possessed by some strange impulse, softly called out, “Lucky.”

In that instant, he seemed to understand what his “child” truly was.

So it’s a dog, right?