After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 59

Chapter 59

The door to the room was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling through the narrow gap.

Pei Ji took a half-step back, his gaze dropping to make out the person’s profile in the dim light.

Long, delicate eyelashes, a high, straight nose, and a sharply defined jawline—it was Chu Tinghan.

What is Chu Tinghan doing here?

Chu Tinghan’s sudden appearance had thrown all his plans into disarray.

He had expected Xu Wangxuan to plant someone in his room, but never imagined it would be Chu Tinghan.

To make matters worse, Chu Tinghan seemed completely out of it, clinging to him like a stubborn patch of plaster.

Pei Ji leaned back, trying to create a safe distance, and turned his head to the side, clearing his throat awkwardly. He tentatively called out, “Hey… Chu Tinghan, are you… are you alright?”

Chu Tinghan acted as if he hadn’t heard, remaining pressed against Pei Ji, motionless.

But the moment Pei Ji tried to pull away, Chu Tinghan would react instantly. For every step Pei Ji retreated, Chu Tinghan would advance, the two moving back and forth like inseparable magnets.

At first, Pei Ji had been worried that Chu Tinghan had actually been drugged. But after seeing how Chu Tinghan could unerringly locate him with his eyes closed, Pei Ji reevaluated the situation and realized something was off.

Given Chu Tinghan’s status in the industry, even if Xu Wangxuan had ten times the audacity, he wouldn’t dare drug Chu Tinghan, would he?

Besides, Chu Tinghan wasn’t a fool. If Pei Ji could easily see through this ruse, how could Chu Tinghan possibly miss it?

Only someone with a screw loose would knowingly jump into a pit of fire, right?

Chu Tinghan’s bad temper didn’t mean he was brainless.

Pei Ji doubted this man could be so easily tricked.

While he was pondering this, Chu Tinghan’s arm had already snaked around his shoulder, preparing to loop around his neck and cling to him.

Now they were even closer. Pei Ji only needed to glance down to see Chu Tinghan’s trembling eyelashes.

Giving up resisting, Pei Ji lowered his head and scrutinized him intently.

His features were relaxed, his breathing even, and a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. He showed absolutely no signs of distress.

Pei Ji found it amusing.

If he was going to pretend, he should at least try to make it convincing. His acting was so clumsy.

He was curious to see how far Chu Tinghan would take this charade.

He casually slammed the door shut, completely blocking the faint sliver of light that had seeped through the crack. The room plunged into utter darkness, devoid of any light source.

As the room darkened, the “actor” clinging to him grew even bolder. Pei Ji felt the arms around his neck slowly tighten, and the warm, moist breath that had been brushing his nape gradually moved upward, becoming increasingly erratic and feverish. Little by little, it grazed his skin, inching closer to his lips.

Pei Ji didn’t need to guess what was coming next; he nearly burst out laughing.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek to calm his inexplicably agitated mood. Just a split second before those lips were about to press against his own, he subtly twisted his head aside, perfectly evading this blatant attempt at a kiss.

Reason told him he should immediately push the man away and tear off his pretense without hesitation. But a voice in his heart urged him to continue.

Continue watching what else Chu Tinghan would do—how far he would go.

Pei Ji’s lips curled into a playful smirk as he leaned closer to Chu Tinghan’s ear, whispering in a breathy tone, “So, you plan to stay here all night?”

The person clinging to him stiffened noticeably, yet remained silent.

Unfazed by the lack of response, Pei Ji persisted, “Hmm? Or… do you actually prefer standing?”

Though his words were veiled, their implication sent a jolt of heat through Chu Tinghan’s cheeks.

Pei Ji felt the arms around his neck loosen slightly, assuming Chu Tinghan was about to yield. His acting skills aren’t as impressive as I thought, he mused.

But in the next instant, Chu Tinghan abruptly shifted his grip from Pei Ji’s neck to his waist, muttering, “I’m dizzy. Let’s go to the bed.”

Pei Ji froze, taken aback.

So, forcing someone into submission isn’t as easy as I thought.

Fine. I’ll just play the long game with Chu Tinghan and see who cracks first.

Half-resisting, half-complying, they moved toward the bed, Pei Ji switching on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a warm, amber glow.

Seizing the moment, Chu Tinghan tangled his left foot behind Pei Ji’s right, whether intentionally or accidentally, and abruptly shoved him onto the bed.

Chu Tinghan, who exercised regularly to maintain his excellent physique, wasn’t particularly heavy. But as a man standing over six feet tall, the weight pressing down on Pei Ji was still considerable.

Pei Ji took a moment to catch his breath, inwardly scoffing at Chu Tinghan for actually staging a scene straight out of a cheesy drama.

Didn’t succeed last time, so you’re doubling down now, huh?

The more Pei Ji thought about it, the more he found it both absurd and amusing.

After a moment, he berated himself for indulging Chu Tinghan’s antics twice already.

How childish…

Having had enough of the game, Pei Ji tried to sit up, bracing himself against the bed. But Chu Tinghan pressed down on his chest, pinning him in place. Perched on Pei Ji’s lap, Chu Tinghan leaned forward to unbutton his shirt.

When the second button came undone, Pei Ji finally snapped out of his daze. Alarm bells rang in his mind, instantly sobering him up.

With a swift roll, Pei Ji threw Chu Tinghan off him, flipping their positions so he was now on top. He pinned Chu Tinghan down with one hand against the bed and covered his mouth with the other, his brow furrowed in exasperated amusement. “Sigh, had your fun? You were actually planning to go all the way, weren’t you?”

A fleeting glint of clarity flashed in Chu Tinghan’s eyes, but it vanished within seconds, leaving his gaze hazy once more.

Pei Ji: ?

Still acting? If you love performing so much, why didn’t you become an actor? It’s such a waste of your talent to be a singer.

Pei Ji chuckled in exasperation, removing his hand from Chu Tinghan’s mouth and shaping his fingers into a “V” to pinch his cheek between thumb and forefinger. “How did you miss out on an Oscar last year?”

His collar was undone, the V-shaped opening extending to his chest, the loose fabric revealing glimpses of the lean waist hidden beneath his shirt.

Unfortunately, Chu Tinghan didn’t get a chance to fully appreciate the view before something falling from Pei Ji’s collar blocked his gaze.

It was a silver pendant—two interlocking circles strung on a chain, forming a necklace around Pei Ji’s neck. The chain was long enough for the pendant to slip down and rest between Chu Tinghan’s collarbones.

The silver circles, no longer warm from Pei Ji’s skin, felt icy cold against Chu Tinghan’s skin. He couldn’t help but hiss at the sudden chill.

“Still cold? Not so out of it now, huh?” Pei Ji arched an eyebrow.

Completely exposed, Chu Tinghan finally dropped his act, instantly reverting to his normal self. He tried to speak, to find a way to save face, but Pei Ji’s grip on his cheeks was so tight that even moving his lips proved difficult.

Chu Tinghan pointed to his mouth, signaling for Pei Ji to release him.

Pei Ji let go and sat up.

Finally freed, Chu Tinghan slowly propped himself up against the headboard, his expression utterly serene, as if he hadn’t just been acting out a wild scene.

Seeing his serene demeanor, Pei Ji couldn’t help but feel utterly speechless. He teased, “Weren’t you feeling dizzy? How did you suddenly recover?”

Chu Tinghan looked at him innocently. “I really am hot.”

Then, with a forceful move, he grabbed Pei Ji’s hand and pressed the back of it against his forehead.

Pei Ji tested the temperature. It was burning hot, several degrees higher than his own hand.

Pei Ji: ……

No way… Could he really be that naive? Just drinking whatever someone gives him?

Chu Tinghan: “See? I wasn’t lying.”

Pei Ji paused awkwardly for a second before clearing his throat and changing the subject. “Why are you here?”

Chu Tinghan asked him the same question: “Why are you here too?”

Pei Ji met his gaze. At first, Chu Tinghan stared intently into his eyes, but after only a few seconds, his gaze involuntarily drifted downward, as if drawn by some irresistible force. His eyes slid from Pei Ji’s peach-blossom eyes to his neck, then to his collarbones, and finally to the tantalizing glimpse of his pectoral and abdominal muscles…

“Haven’t had enough of getting a free show, huh?” Pei Ji frowned, forcibly turning Chu Tinghan’s lowered head back up. Realizing he had overestimated Chu Tinghan’s self-restraint, he hastily buttoned his shirt, nearly fumbling the buttons in his panic.

He forgot to tuck the necklace back in, leaving the silver chain exposed and glinting conspicuously.

Chu Tinghan reached out, hooked the necklace, and asked, “What’s this?”

This shape and size… doesn’t it look like a ring?

How had he never noticed Pei Ji wearing a pair of rings around his neck? Whose rings were these?

The thought filled Chu Tinghan’s chest with a suffocating weight, an oppressive lump that wouldn’t rise or fall, making him unbearably uncomfortable.

Pei Ji snatched the necklace back, shoved it inside his shirt, and casually replied, “I don’t know. I forgot.”

Chu Tinghan, convinced Pei Ji was hiding something, pressed him again, his voice low and insistent: “Who gave them to you?”

Puzzled by Chu Tinghan’s fixation on the two silver rings, Pei Ji sighed and answered honestly, “I genuinely don’t remember.”

At first, he’d thought they were rings too, but these silver bands were crude, even rougher than the machining of a bolt nut. He’d tried wearing them on his fingers, but they were far too large—at least a size too big. If he had to call them anything, they’d be more like ring-shaped bands.

Chu Tinghan stared at him, lips pressed together, as if wanting to say something but holding back.

Pei Ji didn’t want to waste time arguing about the necklace. Remembering Chu Tinghan’s burning temperature, he asked with rare concern, “Still feeling hot?”

At these words, Chu Tinghan’s expression softened slightly. He nodded with a soft “Mm-hmm.”

Pei Ji didn’t think he looked drugged. With such a high fever and a hoarse voice, he must have caught a cold.

He pulled out his phone to order a thermometer from a food delivery app and add some fever reducers while he was at it.

Chu Tinghan looked up, confused: “What are you doing?”

Pei Ji didn’t even glance up, his attention focused on selecting the right medication on the app. “Buying medicine,” he replied curtly.

Chu Tinghan suddenly chuckled, “You know what? I bet this fever reducer you’re ordering will be trending as ‘BYT’ on social media in no time.”

Pei Ji’s scrolling finger froze mid-swipe.

“……”

Damn it, how could I forget? The paparazzi outside probably already have cameras set up in a 360-degree ring, ready to capture every angle.

Pei Ji glanced sideways and saw Chu Tinghan slumped weakly against the headboard. He asked with concern, “You okay?”

Chu Tinghan closed his eyes. “Not dying.”

Pei Ji stood up to leave, but the moment Chu Tinghan heard the movement, he opened his eyes and grabbed Pei Ji’s sleeve, adding urgently, “But I’m dizzy and my head’s throbbing. I’m burning up. You’re so cool—let me lean on you for a bit.”

This clingy leech again, Pei Ji thought, his emotions a tangled mess of helplessness and amusement.

Chu Tinghan clung to Pei Ji’s arm, pressing his head against Pei Ji’s abdomen, and draped himself limply against him.

Pei Ji was at a loss. He couldn’t just yank a sick, feverish patient off him. After a moment of silence, he said coldly, “Let go.”

Chu Tinghan remained motionless, feigning fever-induced unconsciousness.

“Honestly, you…” Pei Ji chuckled, exasperated yet amused. “I’m not leaving. I just need to grab something.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Chu Tinghan released him and slumped back against the headboard, his eyes tracking Pei Ji’s movements.

A few minutes later, Pei Ji returned with a towel soaked in cold water. “This is much colder. Lie down, I’ll put it on your forehead.”

Chu Tinghan reluctantly reclined, his movements sluggish.

Pei Ji placed the towel on his forehead.

“Hiss… Too cold!” Chu Tinghan grimaced, snatched the towel off his head, and made to sit up.

First it’s too hot, now it’s too cold… Pei Ji thought, how difficult can this man be?

Just as Chu Tinghan was about to collapse against him again, Pei Ji swiftly stepped back, his voice cold: “Take it or leave it. You can burn up if you want.”

Hearing this, Chu Tinghan sat awkwardly in silence for half a minute before silently picking up the damp towel and reapplying it to his forehead, making sure to let out a pitifully loud sigh as he did so.

Pei Ji had lost count of how many times Chu Tinghan had made him laugh out of exasperation.

No wonder Chu Tinghan became friends with Zhou Yingjie—they’re both Best Actors, just one keeps his true talent hidden, only performing for me.

Tired of humoring him, Pei Ji lowered his head and began idly scrolling through his phone.

As soon as he opened the social media app’s trending topics, a glaring headline jumped out at him:

“Newcomer Singer Pei Ji Suspected of Secret Rendezvous with Song God Chu Tinghan!”

The headline was followed by a glaring crimson “爆” (“Explosive”).

Pei Ji: ???

Stunned, he scrolled down to find that nearly half of the top trending topics featured his or Chu Tinghan’s name.

#PeiJiHotelVideo

#PeiJiChuTinghanRendezvous

#ChuTinghanSecretMarriageLicense

#MysteriousFigureBehindCurtain

Pei Ji struggled to articulate his current state of mind.

The video trending online showed only blurry shadows on a curtain. How had netizens managed to identify him and Chu Tinghan based solely on those shadows?

Did they all have eyes like fire?!

Before he could scrutinize the matter further, his phone buzzed with an incoming call from An Zhu.

Simultaneously, Chu Tinghan’s phone began to ring.

Both managers, having seen the news, urgently contacted their respective artists.

After careful consideration, Pei Ji decided the situation was too complex to handle separately. Since it involved both him and Chu Tinghan, they needed to coordinate their response for a reasonable and effective solution.

He swiftly created a group chat and initiated a video conference.

The four of them stared at each other across the screens.

“Um…” Pei Ji glanced up at Chu Tinghan, then lowered his gaze back to his phone. Despite being in the same room, less than three meters apart, they were still communicating via video call. “Teacher Wu, what’s your plan? Any ideas?”

“Teacher Wu” that Pei Ji mentioned was Chu Tinghan’s manager, Wu Qian. Wu Qian had been in the industry for over thirty years, his professional tenure exceeding Pei Ji’s age. He had managed countless A-list celebrities, making him a seasoned veteran.

With such a senior figure present, everyone waited for him to speak.

After a moment of silence, Wu Qian said, “This ultimately depends on what you and Xiao Chu decide.”

Pei Ji: ?

What does that mean?

Confused, Pei Ji assumed Wu Qian was just being polite and chuckled dryly. “Just say it straight. As long as it’s not too outrageous, I can accept it.”

Wu Qian hesitated, then pressed, “You’re truly open to anything… as long as it’s not too outrageous?”

Pei Ji responded decisively, “Of course. Resolving this issue is our top priority.”

Wu Qian lowered his gaze, contemplating his long-circulating thoughts. Finally, he declared, “The best approach is to go public.”

Pei Ji: ???

How is that the “best approach”?

He opened his mouth, nearly blurting out “Absolutely not!” But he managed to restrain himself, closing his mouth and thinking for a long moment before cautiously suggesting, “Isn’t there… another way?”

Wu Qian stated bluntly, “No.”

Pei Ji: “……”

Sensing Pei Ji’s hesitation, Wu Qian explained the stakes: “You two have already been photographed. The best course is to acknowledge the marriage. Besides, you’ve long since updated your marital status to ‘married,’ and Xiao Chu’s fans aren’t opposed to him being married. Going public won’t cause significant harm, but refusing to do so will only invite speculation. What are you doing—a man and a woman alone in a room like this? The netizens will accuse you of marital infidelity, secretly meeting a lover.”

Pei Ji found himself speechless.

An Zhu spoke up softly, “Teacher Wu, is it really that serious?”

She paused, then added, “You’re aware of their current relationship, right? Who knows how long this marriage certificate will even last? If they go public now, what happens after they divorce?”

This was precisely the question Pei Ji wanted to ask.

Wu Qian replied, “Breakups and makeups are common in this industry. Divorces have long ceased to be shocking news. The netizens won’t overreact—there’ll be a brief flurry of gossip when it’s officially announced, but they’ll forget about it in a few days.”

An Zhu nodded, though she seemed only partially convinced.

Throughout the entire conversation, Chu Tinghan remained silent, as if the matter had nothing to do with him.

Pei Ji, unwilling to continue communicating via video call with someone in the same room, finally looked up at him directly and asked, “What are your thoughts?”

Chu Tinghan looked up a beat late. “…Are you asking me?”

“Who else would I be asking? It’s just you and me in this room.”

Chu Tinghan gazed into Pei Ji’s eyes, his voice earnest. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Pei Ji stared at him. “…”

You were so bold just now, and now you’re pretending to be obedient?

After a moment of tense eye contact, Pei Ji reluctantly lowered his gaze. He couldn’t think of any other way forward but to follow Wu Qian’s suggestion for now.

Ten minutes later, the internet exploded again. No one had ever imagined that two completely unrelated figures in the entertainment industry were actually a married couple.

@Pei Ji: Introducing my husband, @Chu Tinghan

@Chu Tinghan: Married. To him @Pei Ji

The posts were accompanied by a wedding photo featuring the two men leaning against each other against a red background.

They hadn’t discussed the content of their posts beforehand. When Pei Ji saw the red-background photo, he froze for a second before looking up at Chu Tinghan, his expression questioning.

“What’s wrong?” Chu Tinghan asked.

Is he dissatisfied with my post? Should I match his format and change it to: Introducing my husband, @Pei Ji, and add a string of heart emojis?

After staring at him for a while, Pei Ji finally spoke. “Where did you get that photo?”

“It’s always been saved on my phone.”

“…You kept a red-background wedding photo even after we divorced?”

Chu Tinghan pondered seriously for a few seconds before asking with earnest sincerity, “Can’t I stay?”

Pei Ji had long since lost his temper, worn down by Chu Tinghan’s act of feigned innocence and clinginess.

Of course you can stay. Why wouldn’t you? As long as you’re happy.

A moment later, he received a message from Chu Tinghan.

Pei Ji didn’t open it, scoffing, “We’re literally less than three meters apart. You’re not mute, and I’m not deaf. Can’t you just say what’s on your mind?”

Chu Tinghan coughed awkwardly. “Um… did you get the appointment slot?”

Pei Ji didn’t understand. “What appointment slot?”

Chu Tinghan hesitated, clearly reluctant to say the word. After a pause, he finally whispered, “The divorce appointment slot.”