After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 62
Chapter 62
A few days later, Pei Ji subtly altered his voice in the recording of his conversation with Sun Qi and anonymously sent it to major media outlets and influencer accounts. He also hired a specialized PR team to amplify the buzz.
Within half an hour, the recording had gone viral, sparking a firestorm across the internet.
No way, there’s actually a twist? I thought that drunken recording from a few days ago was just a publicity stunt, but it turns out Sun Qi was telling the truth all along?!
This is outrageous! According to Sun Qi’s current version of events, Pei Ji was completely set up by the Program Group and unjustly vilified for over two years.
Anyone still trusts recordings? Recordings can be manipulated in post-production. Sun Qi’s practically the emperor—are you just going to believe everything he says?!
With today’s advanced technology, recordings are no longer reliable evidence. If you’ve got something concrete, bring it on.
I can’t wrap my head around why the Program Group would target Pei Ji in the first place. Anyone who followed that survival show knows he was the most popular trainee and the clear frontrunner for the center position. With that kind of hype and viewership, what benefit would the Program Group gain from kicking him off the show?
The benefit is one extra debut spot. Everyone knows who’s going to snag that spot, right? Someone went from being completely unknown to ranking near the top of the debut spots in just half a month—faster than a rocket launch!
Who’s that shade aimed at?
Who? They know who they are.
Xu Wangxuan earned his spot fair and square with fan votes, okay? What does Pei Ji’s conflict with the Program Group have to do with Xu Wangxuan?
Ooh, someone’s getting defensive.
Don’t play innocent when you’ve already gotten what you wanted. That guy hasn’t even dared to open his mouth on stage since the debut! With such pathetic talent, he’d never have made it without some shady backroom deals. He’s practically got “royal family” stamped on his forehead, yet his fans pretend to be blind.
In just half a day, the comment sections of nearly all marketing accounts had devolved into a battlefield for fans, erupting with curses and fiery exchanges.
Pei Ji didn’t even need to buy trending topics; the sheer heat generated by the arguments alone propelled all the keywords related to the recording to the top of the trending charts.
The buzz only intensified. Pei Ji’s name blazed across the trending list once again. Even the perpetually busy President Jiang, buried under her endless responsibilities, couldn’t miss the news. After finishing a meeting, she immediately contacted Pei Ji to ask about the situation.
This matter was too complex to explain over the phone, so Pei Ji had no choice but to visit Jiang Xuehua at her office in person.
Jiang Xuehua was swamped with work. The moment he walked in, she cut straight to the chase: “Where did you get the recording?”
Pei Ji pulled up a chair and sat across from her. “I ran into him by chance and recorded it myself.”
Jiang Xuehua nodded once, then said sternly, “Is the video he mentioned real or fake?”
When she first brought it up, Pei Ji paused to consider. Then he realized she was referring to the video Sun Qi had tried to sell him for nearly three million yuan. That price is outrageous, he thought. Only a fool would let Sun Qi swindle them out of that kind of money.
He answered bluntly, “You must have heard it in the recording. He demanded three million yuan, but I don’t think it’s worth that much.”
Jiang Xuehua tapped her fingers lightly on the desk, pondered for a moment, and then said in a low voice, “If you don’t buy it, someone else will. If someone else acquires exclusive rights to that video, we’ll lose our strongest evidence. Then it’ll be even harder for you to clear your name later.”
Although Pei Ji recognized the logic in her words, he couldn’t help but smile wryly, recalling his own miserable experience. “I was innocent to begin with,” he said. “I didn’t need to clear my name in the first place.”
As he finished speaking, Jiang Xuehua’s fingers, which had been tapping the table, abruptly stopped. Her fingers slowly tightened into a fist as she lowered her head, a hint of regret in her posture.
Pei Ji was taken aback, unable to understand her reaction.
After a long silence, Jiang Xuehua sighed heavily, her usually ramrod-straight posture slumping slightly with the exhale. “It’s my fault,” she said self-reproachfully. “I should have acted sooner…”
“Mom,” Pei Ji suddenly interrupted.
This was one of the few times he had called her “Mom” since their reunion. Jiang Xuehua froze for a moment, then lifted her head to look at him, her eyes glistening with emotion.
Seeing her reaction, Pei Ji clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the words he had been about to say.
He had intended to tell her to let the past remain buried, to turn the page and never speak of it again.
But when he met Jiang Xuehua’s trembling gaze, Pei Ji suddenly felt that his words might sound too cold, more like those of business partners than a mother and son.
After a few awkward minutes, Pei Ji cleared his throat and spoke first. “I was already an adult at the time. You had fulfilled your obligations. This has nothing to do with you. Don’t blame yourself. What matters now is solving the most pressing issue.”
Seeing he didn’t want to talk about those things, Jiang Xuehua respected his wishes and didn’t press the matter further, blinking back her tears. She swiftly transitioned from grief to her usual serious and professional demeanor, turning to business matters with Pei Ji. “Are you really not going to buy the video from him?”
Three million for a single video was undoubtedly highway robbery, but that sum wasn’t just for the footage; it was for Pei Ji’s reputation.
If she were asked to sell a video for three million, she would flatly refuse. But if three million could protect her son’s reputation and future, at least in her mind, it would be money well spent.
Pei Ji couldn’t fathom these maternal calculations, nor did he realize that his reputation could be worth three million in the eyes of the mother who had callously abandoned him years ago.
So, when faced with the question of whether to spend three million to buy the video, Pei Ji shook his head firmly.
Surprised by his response, Jiang Xuehua cautioned, “He said he’s in debt—probably to loan sharks—and his mother is gravely ill. A cornered dog will jump over a wall.”
Sun Qi now had nothing to lose. If pushed to the brink, he might do anything out of desperation.
She dared not gamble with her son’s reputation and future any longer.
If three million could pave Pei Ji’s path to success, she would hand over the money without hesitation.
Hearing her out, Pei Ji raised an eyebrow, as if he had anticipated this all along.
A cornered dog will jump a wall?
Pei Ji understood this principle perfectly well. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the video Sun Qi held; he simply found the price too steep. If he conceded so easily, the man would likely grow bolder, demanding more and more.
Today it was three million; what if tomorrow it became thirty million, or three hundred million? Were they supposed to let themselves be fleeced indefinitely?
Such passivity felt unbearable. This feeling of being led by the nose left him deeply uneasy.
The last time he had felt this way was during his sham marriage. Back then, the person pulling the strings was someone he genuinely loved, so he had managed to rationalize it, convincing himself that the other party was always right, that he was the one at fault, too suspicious.
But now, the one across from him was Sun Qi—the vile, despicable scoundrel he loathed above all others. There was no way he would allow himself to be manipulated by him. If Sun Qi dared try, Pei Ji would personally break the arm he extended in an attempt to control him.
He would rather die than compromise with Sun Qi.
Just as he had told Sun Qi in the stairwell that day, Sun Qi was the one who had plotted against him. The perpetrator should be the one begging the victim, not the other way around.
The fact that Sun Qi had already lowered his price from three million to two million eight hundred thousand yuan proved that he was desperate for money and unsure of the video’s true value. The two million eight hundred thousand yuan was simply the amount Sun Qi had calculated would be enough to pay off his debts and still leave him with money to enjoy.
After careful consideration, Pei Ji said slowly, “Of course we’ll buy it. But we’ll set the terms. We’ll determine the price.”
With that, Pei Ji glanced at the time and stood up to leave. “I have an event this afternoon. I’m heading out now.”
In the afternoon, a ribbon-cutting ceremony was scheduled for the grand opening of a new flagship store for a top luxury brand. The brand had reportedly invited numerous celebrities and influencers to lend star power to the event. The mall’s interior and exterior were swamped by fans and curious onlookers, requiring a large security detail to maintain order.
Fearing a safety incident, the event organizers were forced to postpone the ceremony. After receiving notifications from their fan clubs, the fans gradually withdrew from the mall. The curious onlookers, having waited in vain for the stars to appear, eventually dispersed as well.
Finally, the chaotic uproar inside the mall subsided, and tranquility returned.
“Are they really calling off today’s event?” Qiao He, accompanying Pei Ji in the dressing room as stylists worked on his look, couldn’t help but wonder, listening to the fading commotion outside. “I overheard someone carrying flower baskets saying they’d specifically consulted fortune tellers to choose this opening date. Plus, the brand’s Greater China CEO is here. Can they really just call it off like that?”
At that moment, Pei Ji was busy selecting accessories provided by the brand. The brand had offered him three sets of accessories, all new arrivals from this season’s collection. One set, which clashed with his outfit, had already been eliminated by the stylist. The remaining two sets were quite similar in style, leaving the stylist unable to decide. He’d ultimately deferred to Pei Ji’s judgment.
Setting Qiao He’s question aside for the moment, Pei Ji chose the more understated of the two outfits. After consulting with the stylist, he replied, “Of course we’re still holding the event. An Zhu already sent a message in the group chat—we’ve switched to a livestream format. The ribbon-cutting ceremony will be broadcast online, while we’ve invited a select group of clients, media representatives, and a few fans from each agency to attend in person.”
Upon hearing this, Qiao He froze. He pulled out his phone and opened their three-person work group chat. Sure enough, An Zhu had sent a message ten minutes earlier. But with the sheer volume of notifications he received daily, it had been buried by newer ones.
Pei Ji watched him scratch his head sheepishly, knowing he’d missed another message. He sighed helplessly. “You really need to pin the most important work group chats to the top, or you’ll keep missing crucial, urgent messages.”
The next moment, Pei Ji saw Qiao He’s already lowered head sink even further. He mumbled almost inaudibly, “I used to have so many group chats pinned that when I opened the app, I could only see the pinned chats. I couldn’t see messages from anyone else…”
He mentioned it, and Pei Ji suddenly remembered the incident from when he was still a trainee at Huanyu Media. General Xu had bypassed Qiao He entirely, publicly @-ing him in the company’s largest group chat to demand a response.
Qiao He scratched the back of his head, grinning awkwardly.
Pei Ji stared blankly.
Pei Ji proposed the simplest solution: “From now on, let’s just pin our three work group chats.”
“What work group chats?” The break room door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air that was even colder than inside. Along with the icy draft came a crisp, chilly voice.
“Achoo!” Qiao He, who was standing directly facing the door, sneezed violently from the gust of wind.
Chu Tinghan, standing at the doorway and facing Qiao He, stared in disbelief.
This little assistant is psychic! he thought. I haven’t even done anything yet, and he’s already sneezing?
Whether it was because the door hadn’t closed properly, letting the cold air pour in, or because he was underdressed, Qiao He felt a chill. After nodding and smiling politely at Chu Tinghan, he scurried to the farthest corner to warm up.
Seeing Chu Tinghan about to enter, Pei Ji asked in surprise, “Didn’t they assign you your own break room?”
He didn’t mean to be rude, but Chu Tinghan’s status as the “Song God” far exceeded his own. Logically, the brand sponsors shouldn’t have asked the Song God to condescend to share a break room with a minor singer like himself.
Unless they never wanted to collaborate with Chu Tinghan again, they probably wouldn’t dare pull such a stunt.
Perhaps because Pei Ji’s voice was so even, devoid of emotion, Chu Tinghan assumed he was unwelcome under the same roof and was being asked to leave. He stood rooted to the spot for a moment before lifting his gaze and asking, “Am I not allowed to come in?”
Hearing this, Pei Ji’s brow furrowed slightly. Chu Tinghan’s thought process really is different, he mused. Even his emotional perception seems… unusual.
When did I ever imply he couldn’t come in? he wondered. I certainly didn’t put up a sign saying “No loafers or Chu Tinghans allowed,” did I?
His styling wasn’t finished yet, so he sat back down quietly to wait for the stylist to finish. As he did, he casually said, “You can come in. Come on in.”
The next moment, just as Chu Tinghan stepped halfway inside, a large, fluffy white ball suddenly darted forward, circling his feet excitedly, its tail wagging furiously.
Lucky’s sudden lunge nearly knocked Pei Ji’s stool out of place.
Seeing this, the stylist couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry, Teacher Pei,” she said. “Your little dog is just too adorable!”
Pei Ji gave an awkward smile, thinking, What she probably meant was, “adorable like a running gas tank.”
In the next instant, the furry, gas tank-shaped dog seemed to have been suddenly wound up like a toy. He began darting excitedly around the lounge, circling and leaping about in a frenzy.
After a few laps, he plopped his front paws down in front of Chu Tinghan, inviting him to join the game.
Pei Ji was torn between amusement and frustration, bitterly regretting bringing Lucky today.
This season’s new collection included several dog collars and bibs. When the brand learned he had a dog, they invited Lucky to serve as their canine model. Pei Ji only agreed after confirming that the mall hosting the ribbon-cutting ceremony was pet-friendly.
He thought he had prepared thoroughly, but he had underestimated Lucky’s boundless energy.
Before seeing Chu Tinghan, Lucky had been sleeping quietly at his feet. But the moment he spotted Chu Tinghan, he transformed into a different dog entirely, leaping and bounding with wild abandon.
So, that well-behaved sleeping had just been conserving energy?
Fortunately, Lucky’s frenzy didn’t last long. Exhausted, he reverted to his “dog rug” persona, sprawling at Chu Tinghan’s feet, panting with his tongue lolling out.
Seeing this, Pei Ji chuckled wryly. He finally understood Lucky’s twisted logic: distance makes the heart grow fonder. The farther away someone was, and the harder it was to see them, the more Lucky seemed to adore them.
Chu Tinghan, what a clever strategy! Winning back Lucky’s affection so effortlessly!
Pei Ji didn’t bother arguing with the puppy. He turned back to face the mirror and removed the necklace from his neck, as the stylist had requested.
This was the first time he’d taken it off since waking up from the car accident. As he placed the necklace on the table, an indescribable, strange emotion stirred within him.
Thump! A loud noise suddenly echoed from the direction of the door.
Before Pei Ji could even process the complex emotion, his attention was instantly drawn to the impact. He glanced back and saw Lucky standing by the door, head drooping, a tennis ball at its paw. The dog picked up the ball in its mouth and bounded back to Chu Tinghan.
Pei Ji: “……”
The Smiling Angel? More like the King of Chaos!
Pei Ji couldn’t stand it any longer. He shouted sternly, “Lucky!”
Thump! The ball dropped from Lucky’s mouth. Abandoning the ball, the dog immediately scampered behind Chu Tinghan for cover.
The tennis ball rolled back to the door. In the next instant, the door swung open, and a hand reached down to pick it up.
Lü Yi tossed the tennis ball in his hand. “Hey, I didn’t know you had such refined tastes, even practicing tennis in the dressing room.”
Pei Ji stared at the glistening ball, caught between wanting to speak and remaining silent.
The more Lü Yi touched the tennis ball, the more he sensed something was off. He held it up to his eyes, turning it over and over. “Wait a minute… why is this tennis ball so sticky? Ugh, what’s this water on it?!”
He looked at Pei Ji for help, “What kind of water is this? It’s not 502 super glue, is it?”
Pei Ji’s lips twitched slightly. “Lucky’s saliva.”
Thump. The tennis ball hit the ground again.
Clutching his hand, Lü Yi wailed melodramatically, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”
Pei Ji thought to himself, It’s not my fault. You didn’t ask when you picked it up.
Lü Yi continued his melodramatic howling, “I’m helping you pick up the ball, and I’m the one in the wrong?! I can’t use this hand anymore! Am I going to get rabies? Wait, where did this tennis ball even come from? You gave it to me, didn’t you—”
He pointed at Pei Ji first, but when he caught sight of another figure in his peripheral vision, he instinctively turned his head. Only after the words had already escaped his mouth did he realize it was Chu Tinghan.
Chu Tinghan shot him a cold glance, and Lü Yi immediately shut his mouth, forcing the carefully rehearsed words back down his throat. He managed a dry, “…My hand slipped. I shouldn’t have picked it up.”
And I probably shouldn’t have come in here either.
He shouldn’t be inside the room; he should be outside.
Lü Yi wanted to leave, but he feared appearing too deliberate. He had no choice but to lean against the wall and find a stool to sit on.
Imagine that, he thought. The host of the grand opening ceremony sitting on a cold bench in the VIP lounge? What a bizarre spectacle!
He turned his head again and saw Lucky sprawled comfortably on the carpet, sprawled out like a starfish.
What?! Lü Yi’s expression twisted in disbelief. This dog gets better treatment than me?!
I must be bored out of my mind, he mused. I had my own lounge! What possessed me to come reminisce with Pei Ji?
I should just go back outside and rehearse my speech alone. I’m not going to bother these two and their dog.
But just as he opened the door, he heard the stylist ask Pei Ji:
“That’s a rather unique necklace. What brand is it?”
Lü Yi’s foot, already stepping out, retreated back inside. He peered curiously toward the sound.
Pei Ji’s memories hadn’t fully returned, so he could only answer truthfully, “I forgot.”
But the very next moment, Lü Yi exclaimed, almost simultaneously, “Hey, isn’t that the ring we made together?!”
At these words, Pei Ji’s hand trembled so violently he nearly dropped the necklace. He stared at Lü Yi in utter horror, wondering if he’d gone mad.
Has Lü Yi been possessed by a ghost? Is this even human language?
What the hell is he talking about? A ring we made together?
A ring we made together?
A ring?!
Pei Ji thought to himself, Unless my brain was waterlogged back then, I can’t imagine why I’d choose to make a ring with Lü Yi instead of Chu Tinghan.
Panic-stricken, Pei Ji desperately wanted to commit Lü Yi, who was now gushing enthusiastically about their “ring-making session,” to a mental asylum. On the other side, Chu Tinghan, having heard the entire exchange, gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached, his patience stretched to its breaking point.
Hmph…
Just a few days ago at the hotel, he claimed he didn’t know anything. Turns out, he made the ring with Lü Yi all along.
Lies rolling off his tongue like water, without a hint of shame or remorse.
They were supposed to be “best bros,” “brothers in arms”—so why did they make a ring together?
Even when Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei swore their brotherhood, there wasn’t any ring involved.
This isn’t brotherhood; it’s practically a marriage!
I knew it! There had to be a reason why Lü Yi was the only one waiting with a huge bouquet of flowers when Pei Ji graduated all those years ago.
No wonder Lü Yi had always chased after Pei Ji with that bouquet of fresh flowers, no matter where they went, constantly trying to press them into Pei Ji’s hands.
So Lü Yi was Pei Ji’s suitor.
The more Chu Tinghan thought about it, the darker his expression became, his eyes darkening another shade.
Lü Yi accidentally caught his gaze and was inexplicably seized by the eerie sensation that his life was in mortal danger.
What’s wrong?
Is the Third Great War about to erupt?
He felt like a lamb caught in the crosshairs of a wolf, a cold shiver running down his neck.
What did I say wrong? I only spoke the truth—not a single lie!
Pei Ji watched as Lü Yi’s face turned pale, then blue from near-suffocation, the man stumbling backward. What did he see to be so terrified?
Pei Ji followed his gaze and froze, startled by Chu Tinghan’s brooding expression. After a moment’s pause, he asked Chu Tinghan, bewildered, “Are you… not feeling well?”
In response, Chu Tinghan stared fixedly at Lü Yi for a long moment before slowly turning his head, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do I look unwell?”