After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 52
Chapter 52
Half a month later, the second episode of the outdoor variety show aired as scheduled. In the first episode, both Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan had been absent due to illness. The simultaneous sick leave inevitably sparked speculation among viewers, who began to wonder if the two shared some hidden relationship.
Naturally, when the second episode was released, the audience’s attention immediately shifted to them, scrutinizing their every move as if watching the show under a microscope.
Viewers had anticipated seeing furtive displays of intimacy and sparks flying whenever the two interacted. Instead, they were shocked to find virtually no interaction between them at all.
The two were kept physically apart, standing miles away from each other. Throughout the nearly two-hour episode, apart from a few wide shots when the director announced tasks, they rarely appeared in the same frame. Their interactions were even more meager. The only exchange between them occurred when Chu Tinghan handed something to Pei Ji, who nodded briefly in acknowledgement. After that, there was nothing else.
During the last livestream, Pei Ji’s gaze had seemed practically glued to Chu Tinghan. Yet in the second episode of the show, he avoided Chu Tinghan like the plague, as if terrified of even the slightest contact. This drastic reversal left netizens baffled, sparking fierce online debate.
Are Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan actually close? I thought I’d misremembered things, so I went back to watch the livestream replay. Their subtle interactions back then seemed like those of a couple, but now they act more distant than strangers!
I specifically checked the Communication University’s Music Academy website. There’s a photo of them together in a report about some event, and it clearly states they were both Club Presidents of Dreamcatcher. With such close ties, there’s no way they don’t know each other!
They seemed to get along fine during the livestream. But then they both mysteriously missed the first episode’s recording. By the time they returned for the second episode, the atmosphere had completely changed. The more I think about it, the more unsettling it becomes.
I knew their excuses about being sick were BS! They definitely had a falling out.
“Agree with the comment above! Now everything makes sense!”
Pei Ji’s hand froze mid-scroll as he read the comment. He glanced up at An Zhu, her expression serious and slightly anxious, and seemed to understand why she had insisted on meeting him urgently.
No wonder she was so frantic on the phone, insisting on discussing this in person. So it’s because our relationship is about to be exposed?
The audience really does have a sharp eye.
He stopped scrolling, turned off his phone, and laid it face down on the table. After a moment’s contemplation, he said earnestly, “I’ll figure out how to handle things between him and me.”
An Zhu’s expression went blank for a moment. “…Huh?”
What “things between him and him”? What was Pei Ji talking about? Were they even looking at the same comments section?
Noticing her bewildered expression, Pei Ji couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t this what you wanted to discuss today?”
An Zhu thought to herself: What does your divorce have to do with me? Am I part of the property division now? Does being Pei Ji’s manager mean I can’t be Chu Tinghan’s cousin? Or does being Chu Tinghan’s cousin mean I can’t be Pei Ji’s manager?
They’re being way too overbearing, aren’t they?
An Zhu immediately shook her head. “No, that’s not it at all. Why would I talk to you about that? I wanted to discuss the comments accusing you of acting like a big shot, giving everyone the cold shoulder, and disrespecting your seniors.”
Hearing this, Pei Ji froze. He reopened his phone and scrolled down again. Sure enough, just as she’d said, somewhere along the line, the thread had completely gone off the rails, spiraling into attacks on his character.
You guys are way off with your theories. What relationship could Pei Ji possibly have with Chu Tinghan? At most, they’re just schoolmates and colleagues. If you ask me, all that stuff during the live broadcast was just an act, a desperate attempt to ride Chu Tinghan’s coattails. Now he’s acting cold and distant because he can’t keep up the facade anymore. Don’t forget he got cancelled years ago for bullying his teammates!
I still remember that leaked recording from the talent show days. The way Sun Qi was screaming in pain—it was heartbreaking! Does the internet have no memory? How can someone like him debut again?
Pei Ji’s been giving everyone the cold shoulder throughout this whole episode too. Isn’t that the definition of acting like a big shot? It’s exactly what he was like on the talent show back then.
Can’t you people stop twisting things out of context? He wasn’t cold-faced the entire time! He was perfectly polite when interacting with others. Some of you are just fixating on one snippet to criticize. Who can maintain a smile 24/7?
I don’t know about this show, but the bullying allegations that surfaced during his audition program were absolutely undeniable. I still have photos of the injuries Sun Qi sustained back then—there’s no way to whitewash that.
Pei Ji’s brow furrowed involuntarily. “What recording? What photos are they talking about?” he asked incredulously.
An Zhu’s face was etched with worry. “It’s that recording from your audition days—the one of your argument with Sun Qi. And the photos the zhanjie took of Sun Qi’s injuries after work.”
Pei Ji was stunned.
He would never bully a teammate, and Qiao He had assured him these were fabrications.
“I could never do something so utterly despicable,” he declared firmly.
An Zhu sighed. “That’s what you told me back then too. But we had no evidence to refute the claims. When reporters interviewed Sun Qi, he acted like a frightened rabbit, refusing to say a word. Everyone assumed he was being threatened by you and was too afraid to reveal the truth, tacitly accepting your bullying.”
Pei Ji’s expression was a complex mix of emotions.
Had he been undergoing some kind of tribulation these past two years? he wondered. Why else would both his personal and professional life be plagued by such relentless setbacks?
He strongly suspected his amnesia stemmed from a failed attempt to overcome this trial.
“I have no memory of this Sun Qi,” Pei Ji said wearily, bowing his head and rubbing his temples. “I can’t recall anything from that time.”
Two years had passed since the incident. Logically, people should have forgotten by now. Why was it being brought up suddenly today? Just moments ago, the conversation had been focused on the rumored relationship between Chu Tinghan and Pei Ji. How had the topic suddenly shifted to dredging up old news from two years ago?
An Zhu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, as if someone was deliberately stirring up trouble behind the scenes.
After a moment of contemplation, she asked, “Have you offended anyone recently?”
Pei Ji pondered carefully.
The only major event lately had been his divorce from Chu Tinghan. If he had to name someone he’d angered or clashed with, it could only be Chu Tinghan.
But knowing Chu Tinghan as he did, Pei Ji found it impossible to believe that Chu Tinghan would stoop to such low tactics.
Seeing Pei Ji’s furrowed brow, An Zhu knew he was just as clueless. She decided to table the issue for now and focus on the immediate crisis. “Right now, everyone’s been led to believe you’re showing your true colors and that your character is flawed. Next time you’re on set, you absolutely have to put your personal feelings aside.”
After a pause, she sighed, her head aching. “Look, I know things are complicated between you and my brother, but you need to at least make an effort to interact normally with him. Don’t deliberately distance yourself. The audience is scrutinizing every move with a magnifying glass; every action will be judged.”
A long silence stretched before Pei Ji finally replied dryly, “Fine, whatever.” His tone dripped with reluctance.
But neither of them could have predicted how quickly public opinion would shift. By the next day, the online narrative had completely reversed.
Pei Ji already crashed and burned once for acting arrogant and bullying his teammates. Now that he’s finally managed to get back into the industry, he has to at least pretend to be polite and humble. No one falls into the same pit twice—unless Pei Ji doesn’t want to stay in the industry at all.
After watching the full episode, I feel like Pei Ji’s attitude toward others hasn’t changed at all. He’s always been polite and friendly, just a bit more distant with Chu Tinghan.
This obvious shift in behavior screams scripted drama orchestrated by the Program Group for publicity. The other guests are too high-profile to manipulate, so they’re using Pei Ji to generate buzz, drawing all the heat onto him.
Just standard operating procedure for the Program Group. Without manufactured conflict, there’s no drama, and no drama means no ratings.
So Pei Ji’s kind of getting screwed over here. He got dragged through the mud all day for nothing, while the Program Group sits back and reaps the benefits.
In less than a day, the tide of public opinion had turned from criticizing Pei Ji to condemning the Program Group. The two-year-old scandal was no longer mentioned.
Meanwhile, Pei Ji was on his way to the filming location for the third episode. Seeing the sudden shift in public opinion online, he turned to An Zhu, surprised. “Was this your PR strategy?”
An Zhu, suddenly praised, blushed slightly. Qiao He, however, eagerly chimed in, “We came up with the plan together yesterday! But since it involved the show, we didn’t dare act rashly and consulted President Jiang first. To our surprise, she actually approved it!”
Qiao He, unaware of the relationship between Pei Ji and Jiang Xuehua, clicked his tongue in amazement. “I always thought entertainment company CEOs like them only cared about buzz, not the well-being of their artists. I never imagined President Jiang could be so understanding.”
An Zhu forced a dry laugh in agreement.
“Hey, bro, Huazhang Films is one of the top film companies right now. You think—”
“Ahem!” An Zhu, seeing Qiao He getting carried away, quickly cleared her throat to interrupt him. Changing the subject, she said to Pei Ji, “Remember to be extra careful during today’s filming. We can’t have a repeat of last time. At least make a bit of normal conversation. Otherwise, your haters will blow things out of proportion again.”
Pei Ji nodded. “I understand.”
Two hours later, the filming began. The more An Zhu watched, the more uneasy she felt.
Is this what he meant by “I understand”?
Their positions were indeed closer than before, but there was still zero interaction. They only exchanged a few words when other guests brought them up, and their conversations never exceeded five sentences—as if every word were made of gold.
After watching for a while, An Zhu’s headache worsened.
If last time had seemed like a childish spat, this time it looked like forced compliance, every movement radiating reluctance.
Last time, at least they could deflect attention by claiming it was all part of the Program Group’s script. But what excuse could they possibly use this time?
They couldn’t exactly claim the script was too absurd and Pei Ji couldn’t bring himself to act it out.
An Zhu felt a surge of despair. During filming, she couldn’t barge into the shot and tell Pei Ji to act more naturally; she could only desperately wait for the next break.
This episode was to be filmed over two days. In between sessions, the guests would rest in a villa provided by the Program Group. Of course, filming would continue even during these breaks, with the guests remaining within camera range.
The villa didn’t have enough rooms, so two guests had to share each room. Room assignments were determined by drawing lots; guests who drew the same number would room together.
As fate would have it, Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan both drew the number “1,” meaning they would have to share a room for the entire night.
Pei Ji hesitated for a moment, inwardly dreading the thought of sleeping in the same room as Chu Tinghan. But with the draw results immutable, he had no choice but to steel himself, grab his suitcase, and enter the room.
Seeing this outcome, An Zhu gasped and held her breath for the two of them.
Chu Tinghan, on the other hand, remained remarkably calm, acting as if it made no difference who he shared a room with.
The bedroom had no cameras. Pei Ji sat on the edge of the bed, sorting out the clothes he would wear tomorrow.
Though his hands moved mechanically, his mind had long drifted outside.
He was waiting for Chu Tinghan to come in, but after waiting for quite a while, Chu Tinghan still showed no sign of entering. Instead, he was chatting with Ban Rui, the newly debuted idol.
Pei Ji’s movements stilled. He strained to overhear their conversation.
After listening for a while, he gathered that Ban Rui was asking Chu Tinghan for professional advice. Judging by their tone, they seemed to be getting along quite well.
About fifteen minutes later, Chu Tinghan finally pushed his suitcase in, immediately slamming the door shut behind him.
Pei Ji blinked, glancing at him in surprise.
Seeing this, Chu Tinghan raised an eyebrow as he dragged his suitcase further into the room. “The cameras outside can see into here,” he said casually. “What, did you want to stay under the lens?”
Of course not. Pei Ji had maintained his amiable facade all day, and he was exhausted. He responded with an indifferent “Oh.”
The moment the door closed, an awkward atmosphere descended upon the room.
After a long silence, Chu Tinghan broke the silence first: “What about Lucky while you’re filming the variety show?”
“A friend is watching him for me.”
“Which friend?”
Pei Ji, assuming he was worried about his friend’s reliability, replied, “His family used to have dogs too. Don’t worry, Lucky will be fine with him.”
But Chu Tinghan persisted: “Which friend?”
Perplexed, Pei Ji wondered why this particular friend mattered so much. He frowned imperceptibly before saying flatly, “Lü Yi.”
The moment those words left his lips, Chu Tinghan seemed to have tripped a hidden switch. “Why did you ask him to take care of Lucky?”
Startled, Pei Ji felt as if they were discussing child-rearing principles rather than a simple dog-sitting arrangement. The sensation was bizarre, and Chu Tinghan’s tone suggested strong disapproval of his choice.
Pei Ji couldn’t help but notice how Chu Tinghan would bristle at the mere mention of Lü Yi’s name.
Yet Lü Yi had been his friend for nearly a decade. He couldn’t just cut ties with him because of Chu Tinghan. That would be terribly disloyal.
Exasperated, Pei Ji finally asked, “Do you have a problem with him?”
Who knew Chu Tinghan would revert to his usual casual indifference? “No.”
Pei Ji glanced sideways at Chu Tinghan’s cold profile, finding the sight amusing. Playing along, he continued, “Good, then. Lü Yi’s been bored lately, so we can have Lucky stay with him from now on.”
In an instant, Chu Tinghan whipped his head around, a crack appearing in his perfect façade. “What did you say?”
After a moment’s silence, Pei Ji abruptly changed the subject. “I talked to a ticket scalper earlier. He said he can get us an appointment this month.”
The sudden shift in topic caught Chu Tinghan off guard. He paused, realizing Pei Ji was bringing up their divorce. Pretending not to hear, he continued on his original train of thought. “I don’t trust Lü Yi to take care of Lucky.”
As if you ever asked my opinion when you left Lucky with Zhou Yingjie, Pei Ji thought.
Deciding to drop the Lucky conversation, he pressed on. “When are you free at the end of the month? Let’s get the divorce certificate.”
Chu Tinghan continued to feign deafness, replying dryly, “I don’t think Lucky likes Lü Yi.”
Pei Ji couldn’t help but curl his lips into a reluctant smile, almost laughing in exasperation.
He brought up divorce, and Chu Tinghan talked about Lucky.
Chu Tinghan talked about Lucky, and he brought up divorce.
The two had been talking at cross-purposes for nearly ten minutes when Ban Rui’s voice suddenly cut through the bizarre conversation from outside.
“The weather’s great today! Anyone want to go stargazing on the nearby mountain? If we stay up a bit longer, we can catch the sunrise too. Apparently, it’s a popular tourist activity here,” Ban Rui announced loudly from the living room, addressing everyone in the vicinity.
This was a task the Program Group had specifically assigned him to add some excitement to the show. Otherwise, the evening’s filming would be utterly dull, lacking any entertainment value and likely to receive a poor response from viewers.
Ban Rui had braced himself for a moment of awkward silence, but to his surprise, someone responded almost immediately.
Pei Ji pushed open the door and gestured toward him. “I’ll go with you.”
Hearing his agreement, the other observing guests quickly chimed in.
“Count me in!”
“I’m going too!”
“Me too!”
They agreed so quickly that Chu Tinghan didn’t even have a chance to speak. Just as he was about to open his mouth, the half-century-old Best Actor, Qian Hua, suddenly grabbed his arm.
Qian Hua, his face etched with grandfatherly warmth, watched the guests preparing to stargaze and witness the sunrise. Standing behind Chu Tinghan, he clapped him on the shoulder and sighed, “Ah, youth is truly a blessing. So full of vitality! At our age, we can barely keep up anymore.”
Hearing this, Chu Tinghan nearly lost his composure.
What do you mean, “at our age”? Who’s your age? I’m only twenty-nine, for crying out loud!
Forced to maintain composure under the gaze of the living room cameras, Chu Tinghan suppressed his irritation and whispered, “Teacher Qian, I’m not even thirty yet.”
The other guests chuckled in agreement. “Exactly, Teacher Qian! Teacher Chu may have debuted a while back, but he’s still just twenty-nine.”
Qian Hua froze, realizing his mistake only when they pointed it out. He laughed apologetically, his face full of regret. “Little Chu, I didn’t mean it that way. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be. From a distance, I mistook you for Lao Han. My apologies! Even my words are starting to fail me.”
Lao Han was another guest on the show, roughly Qian Hua’s age and about the same height as Chu Tinghan. The dim lighting in the living room had caused Qian Hua to mistake him.
After a pause, Qian Hua added understandingly, “Then you should go with them. I’ll stay here.”
Chu Tinghan, waiting for an invitation, nodded casually in agreement.
The group piled into one car. Having only just finished filming two episodes, the guests weren’t well acquainted, and after a few awkward exchanges, the conversation quickly dwindled into silence.
Ban Rui, eager to break the ice, tried to strike up a conversation: “Hey, Brother Pei, I heard you and Teacher Chu graduated from the same school. So, you two…”
“We’re not close,” Pei Ji cut him off before he could finish.
Ban Rui chuckled awkwardly, thinking, What’s going on here? Is this a new script the Program Group didn’t tell me about?
After a moment, Pei Ji realized his abruptness had embarrassed Ban Rui. He quickly corrected himself: “We weren’t as close as people might think back then. But filming the show together has helped us get to know each other a bit better.”
Chu Tinghan showed no reaction whatsoever, as if their conversation had nothing to do with him.
Ban Rui gradually sensed that the atmosphere between the two was strange, almost like those couples who date during filming but break up before the promotional period. They clearly disliked each other but were forced to maintain a professional facade.
Better to mind my own business, Ban Rui wisely decided, falling silent.
By the time they reached the mountaintop, the Program Group’s cameras were already set up.
The temperature on the mountain peak fluctuated wildly, and a biting wind sent shivers down everyone’s spines. Fortunately, the Program Group had prepared thick military overcoats to ward off the cold.
Seizing the opportunity, An Zhu called Pei Ji over. As she handed him the overcoat, she whispered, “Just act natural later. Don’t keep your distance. My brother always keeps business and personal matters separate. He wouldn’t use the show to get revenge on you. You don’t have to worry.”
As if I’m afraid of Chu Tinghan retaliating, Pei Ji thought. I just don’t want any unnecessary interactions with him.
Slinging the overcoat over his shoulders, Pei Ji offered a perfunctory, “Fine.”
An Zhu assumed his quick agreement meant he understood her instructions perfectly. She watched his retreating figure with a relieved smile.
The next moment, she saw Pei Ji move half a meter closer to Chu Tinghan.
…Half a meter.
An Zhu: “……”
What deep-seated grudge could this be? Even real couples in the entertainment industry who are secretly dating don’t go to such lengths to avoid each other.
Does he think Chu Tinghan’s covered in thorns or something? Why does he have to keep such a wide berth?
An Zhu felt like being Pei Ji’s manager was an uphill battle. She had to manage his work while simultaneously handling her brother.
Just moments ago, her brother had texted her, asking if she knew Lü Yi and whether Pei Ji had been in contact with him recently.
An Zhu was utterly bewildered. Who’s this guy again? she thought.
Her life was already chaotic enough. Why was yet another person adding to the mess?
As a proper, upright manager, why do I have to deal with my artist’s romantic entanglements?
Other managers are busy advising breakups, but here I am, urging them to reconcile.
When she looked up again, she noticed that the half-meter Pei Ji had painstakingly closed between himself and Chu Tinghan had vanished.
An Zhu: “……”
She circled around to face the camera and frantically winked at Pei Ji, signaling him with her eyes.
Pei Ji hesitated for a moment before expressionlessly leaning back toward Chu Tinghan.
Afraid he might drift away again when she wasn’t watching, An Zhu planted herself in front of him, monitoring his every move.
Buzz—her phone vibrated suddenly.
An Zhu glanced at the notification and saw it was a message from the Youth Star Factory program group.
They wanted to invite Pei Ji to perform as a guest artist during the finale’s live broadcast at halftime.
This show held special significance for Pei Ji. Unable to make decisions on his behalf, An Zhu refrained from giving them an immediate answer.
As soon as dawn broke after the shoot, An Zhu rushed to Pei Ji’s side and asked for his opinion: “The Youth Star Factory program group wants you to perform as a guest artist during the finale’s live broadcast. Do you want to do it?”
Pei Ji involuntarily slowed his pace, considering the matter for a moment before replying, “I’ll go.”
He could tell that the sudden resurfacing of the bullying incident from the talent show two years prior had been orchestrated by someone pulling strings behind the scenes. The timing of Youth Star Factory’s invitation—right at this critical moment—strongly suggested a connection.
An Zhu, still wary after the program group’s previous attempts to sabotage Pei Ji’s performances, asked anxiously, “Aren’t you afraid they’ll resort to dirty tricks again?”
Pei Ji smiled. “Cross that bridge when we come to it.”
After a pause, he added thoughtfully, “I heard Xu Wangxuan will also be at the final live broadcast, right?”
An Zhu nodded. “Yes, but he won’t be performing. He’s just a guest who will announce the voting results at the end.”
Pei Ji fell into deep thought.
As the biggest beneficiary of the talent show incident years ago, Xu Wangxuan had undoubtedly received covert assistance from the program group. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to brazenly steal Pei Ji’s persona and songs.
The program group bringing them together now likely wasn’t just about sabotaging his performance; they likely had ulterior motives. What those were would only become clear on the day itself.
Therefore, he absolutely had to attend.