After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Standing before Chu Tinghan’s door, Pei Ji took a deep breath, telling himself to stay calm. After brushing the snow off his shoulders, he reached out and rang the doorbell.

The door swung open almost instantly, as if Chu Tinghan had been waiting right behind it for him to arrive.

Caught off guard, Pei Ji paused, then smiled and greeted him.

The room was dimly lit, with only the lamp to the left of the door casting a pale yellow glow. The light illuminated half of Chu Tinghan’s face, his sharply defined features dividing the light and shadow down the middle. The bridge of his nose marked the boundary between brightness and darkness.

With the left half of Chu Tinghan’s face hidden in shadow, Pei Ji could only see the right side.

Chu Tinghan’s eyes were downcast, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line as pale as paper, betraying a troubled mood.

At first glance, he seemed dejected, but there were no tear streaks at the corners of his eyes, and his brow remained smooth. Only the heavy aura of death clinging to him hinted at his profound distress, like a terminally ill patient resigned to his fate.

The corners of Pei Ji’s mouth, which had been lifting, gradually drooped. His brows furrowed with concern as he asked anxiously, “You… what’s wrong?”

After a moment of silence, Chu Tinghan raised his gaze to meet Pei Ji’s worry-tinged, peach-blossom eyes. He offered a faint smile and said dismissively, “Nothing much. Probably just chilled by the cold wind outside. I’m a little cold.”

He showed no signs of sadness or grief, his tone even carrying a hint of levity. If Pei Ji hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, he might have doubted whether the person wreathed in deathly aura moments ago was truly Chu Tinghan standing before him now.

A biting wind howled through the corridor. Pei Ji rubbed his frostbitten ears, remembering Chu Tinghan’s mention of the cold. He reached out to close the door, but his hand paused mid-motion.

Chu Tinghan had only said he was cold; he hadn’t invited Pei Ji in. Should he stay outside the door, or was it permissible to step inside?

To enter without explicit permission would seem presumptuous, even rude. No, I need to make a good impression, he thought.

Pei Ji stood at the door, clearing his throat awkwardly. Deliberately rubbing his ear to warm it, he asked with feigned reserve, “Um, it’s a bit cold out here. Could I…?”

Before he could finish, a hand suddenly reached out and touched his earlobe. Chu Tinghan examined his ear closely, frowning slightly. “Are you really cold? You didn’t get frostbite, did you?”

Pei Ji froze instantly, unable to retract his ear in time. The redness slowly spread across his ear, leaving him uncertain whether it was from the cold or Chu Tinghan’s touch.

Though he had rushed out earlier without dressing warmly enough, he was still a healthy, vigorous college student in his early twenties. Claiming to be cold was a blatant lie; even his ear-rubbing gesture was a calculated attempt to appear pitiful.

He had merely sought a flimsy excuse to enter Chu Tinghan’s home naturally. He never expected Chu Tinghan to fall for his act, mistaking his reddened ear for frostbite and even offering to warm it for him.

Little did Chu Tinghan know that his own hands were several degrees colder than the ice and snow outside.

Chu Tinghan’s hands were ice-cold, utterly unlike the warmth of a living person.

The moment that frigid, soft touch met Pei Ji’s palm, his hand nearly recoiled instinctively from the chill. Yet he quickly recovered, moving his hand away for only a second before returning to grasp Chu Tinghan’s, holding it tightly as if trying to transfer the warmth from his own palm.

In that moment, all thoughts of decorum vanished. His mind was consumed by concern: Chu Tinghan’s hands are so cold! The freezing wind outside might make him catch a cold! He swiftly led him inside, closing the door behind them, and cradled Chu Tinghan’s hands between both of his own, gently rubbing them as he gazed down and asked softly, “Why are your hands so cold? Are you still freezing? Should I go buy you some warmers?”

The man opposite him didn’t answer, only lowered his head silently, staring transfixed at their intertwined hands.

Pei Ji’s hands were exceptionally beautiful. His fingers were long, slender, and lean, with prominent knuckles and no excess flesh. When he curled his fingers slightly, faint blue veins rose on the back of his hand. The fingertips were covered in a thick layer of calluses, leaving one’s heart inexplicably itching.

When Chu Tinghan remained silent, Pei Ji assumed he was frozen stiff. He tilted his head to check Chu Tinghan’s expression, first catching sight of his thick, long lashes, then his downward-cast eyes fixed intently on their joined hands.

Chu Tinghan was already a head shorter than him, and with his gaze lowered, Pei Ji couldn’t make out his expression at all. Seeing him wordless, Pei Ji worried he was offended and angry.

As if jolted by an electric shock, Pei Ji abruptly released Chu Tinghan’s hand, stammering an awkward apology. “Uh… I… I didn’t mean to. Your hand was just so cold.” I wanted to warm it up for you.

He didn’t dare voice that last half-sentence. What was his relationship with Chu Tinghan, after all? They were senior and junior classmates under the same teacher. Even if they were close, they weren’t intimate enough for skin-to-skin contact to warm each other’s hands.

Pei Ji suspected the bitter wind had frozen his brain. How else could he have acted so inappropriately?

Chu Tinghan won’t kick me out, will he?

Pei Ji nervously awaited Chu Tinghan’s verdict, but to his surprise, the man merely hummed noncommittally, as if completely indifferent.

Chu Tinghan walked over and switched on the living room lights.

A brilliant white light instantly filled the room, so dazzling it made Pei Ji squint to adjust to the sudden brightness.

The scene before him was now laid bare. Before arriving, Pei Ji had imagined Chu Tinghan spending the New Year alone, his home either cold and desolate or stark and empty.

The living room on the right confirmed his expectations. The furnishings were sparse, the furniture all gray and white, cold, hard, and lifeless.

Pei Ji shifted his gaze to the left, and the sight that greeted him left him utterly stunned.

It was a scene of utter chaos. Porcelain plates that should have been on the dining table lay shattered amidst a jumble of spilled food scraps, the shards all pointing in the same direction.

Without needing to think, Pei Ji understood what had happened here.

The owner of this house must have swept everything off the table in a fit of rage.

Pei Ji took a few steps forward. Chu Tinghan stared at the wreckage on the floor, his blood turning to ice.

He had always presented himself to Pei Ji as the talented, elegant, and refined Senior. Behind his carefully crafted facade, he appeared almost flawless, as perfect as a mannequin.

This wretched side of himself should never have been exposed to Pei Ji.

Chu Tinghan’s thoughts raced, desperately searching for an explanation. “I accidentally bumped into the table earlier. I didn’t have time to clean up…”

“Where are the cleaning supplies?” Pei Ji interrupted him in his usual calm tone, not waiting for him to finish.

Pei Ji’s reaction was utterly mundane, as if he were seeing nothing more than dust motes floating in the air, rather than a floor strewn with shattered dishes and food scraps.

Chu Tinghan wanted to explain further, but just as he was about to speak, Pei Ji turned to look at him, cutting him off once more. With a slight smile, he asked, “Where are they?”

Chu Tinghan had no choice but to swallow his awkward excuses and reply, “In the bathroom. I’ll go get them.”

Pei Ji followed him, bringing out all the cleaning supplies. Donning gloves, he began sweeping up the ceramic shards, saying in a perfectly ordinary tone, “Broken dishes can be replaced, spilled food can be remade, and a dirty floor can be mopped clean. None of this is a big deal.”

The unspoken implication was clear: he didn’t care about such trivialities. As long as Chu Tinghan was safe, everything else was manageable.

Within moments, the trash can overflowed with shards. Pei Ji tied a tight knot in the garbage bag, wrapped it in several more layers, and even taped a note to the outside.

When he finished, Chu Tinghan reached out to take the bag and put it outside, but Pei Ji evaded his touch, signaling his refusal to let him help. “There seems to be only one pair of gloves here,” he said. “I’ll handle it. Don’t cut your hands.”

Chu Tinghan felt uneasy. How could he let his beloved junior clean up on New Year’s Eve?

Unless he had no intention of this relationship ever working out.

After rummaging through the kitchen, he finally found a pair of rubber gloves and squatted down across from Pei Ji to help with the cleanup.

While scrubbing the floor, Pei Ji continued to chat, “You didn’t eat dinner tonight, did you? Do we have any ingredients? What do you want to eat?”

Chu Tinghan pressed his lips together, forcing himself to say, “I already ate.”

Hearing this, Pei Ji chuckled softly to himself, thinking, His lying skills are worse than a three-year-old’s. But he didn’t call him out on it, instead playing along. “Then you probably didn’t have a late-night snack either, huh? It’s New Year’s Eve tonight. Let’s stay up together and watch the new year come in. What do you want to eat?”

At this, Pei Ji suddenly paused, a flicker of realization crossing his mind as he remembered the reason he’d come here today. He hurriedly retrieved the insulated container of dumplings from his bag.

Predictably, the dumplings had clumped together.

Pei Ji stared awkwardly at the square-shaped mass of dumplings in the container.

The dumplings were stuck together like a doughy lump, looking utterly unappetizing.

Pei Ji silently apologized to Professor Zheng, then reached for the lid to seal the container and dispose of the evidence. But Chu Tinghan had already leaned in, asking what it was.

Pei Ji hemmed and hawed for a moment before finally managing to stammer, “Professor Zheng sent these dumplings for you.”

Chu Tinghan blinked in surprise. “Dumplings?”

Pei Ji was so mortified he practically wanted to dig a hole in the floor and disappear. He hastily snapped the lid back on the container and set it aside, desperately changing the subject. “Is there anything you’d like to eat? I’ll make it.”

Without hesitation, Chu Tinghan replied, “Anything’s fine. I’m not picky.”

Pei Ji nodded and went to check the refrigerator for ingredients, only to find it completely empty. After ransacking the kitchen, he managed to unearth a few packets of instant noodles—not even ham or eggs.

Fortunately, there was an electric pot, allowing him to at least boil the noodles with some water.

Pei Ji poured the cooked instant noodles into a bowl and carried it to the dining table, intending to naturally take a seat beside Chu Tinghan and share the meal with him.

But as he scanned the room, he realized there wasn’t a single empty seat at the table.

The small square table had four chairs, one on each side—more than enough for the two of them, he’d thought.

Yet, to his surprise, all three chairs besides Chu Tinghan’s were occupied… by “people.”

To be precise, they were three doll-like plush toys sitting rigidly upright at the table.

A touch of indescribable eeriness permeated the childish scene.

Pei Ji had only ever seen such a scene in foreign horror movies. Thankfully, the room was brightly lit; otherwise, the sight would have been truly chilling.

Standing in the dining room, Pei Ji exchanged wary glances with the three lifeless dolls, a small patch of goosebumps rising involuntarily on his arm. He couldn’t shake the feeling of a cold draft blowing from behind him.

Just as Chu Tinghan returned with the cleaning supplies, he froze at the sight. Embarrassed, he hurried over, scooped up the dolls, and casually tossed them onto the sofa, pretending nothing had happened.

He pulled out the chair opposite him. “Please, have a seat.”

Pei Ji remained rooted to the spot, still reeling from the earlier scene. He glanced at the three dolls sprawled awkwardly on the living room sofa, forced a stiff smile at Chu Tinghan, then slowly sank into his chair, his legs feeling as heavy as lead.

Throughout the meal, Pei Ji repeatedly picked up and set down his chopsticks, chewing and swallowing with deliberate slowness, his sidelong glances frequently darting toward Chu Tinghan—a picture of hesitation.

“What is it you want to say?” Chu Tinghan asked, setting down his chopsticks.

Pei Ji lifted his head mechanically, his movements jerky, and stammered, “Um…” He swallowed his words after only two syllables.

Should I ask or shouldn’t I?

What if he just has a childlike fondness for dolls and stuffed animals?

Am I overthinking things? Will Chu Tinghan find me annoying?

Forget it. I won’t ask.

Pei Ji made up a flimsy excuse to change the subject and quietly resumed eating his noodles.

That year, relentless snowstorms brought the temperature plummeting, leaving pedestrians shivering in the streets. Yet Chu Tinghan felt it was the warmest winter he could remember.

Because for every day the snow fell, Pei Ji came to visit.

Back then, when Chu Tinghan asked Pei Ji why he had the time to visit him every day, Pei Ji dismissed it casually, saying his house was nearby, less than two kilometers away. He claimed he was avoiding his relatives and had come to Chu Tinghan’s place to hide.

Chu Tinghan had found this explanation perfectly reasonable at the time and had actually believed Pei Ji’s hastily concocted lie.

It wasn’t until the night of the eighth day, after the snow had stopped, that the city finally fell into a deep slumber. The streets were deserted, with hardly any pedestrians. Seizing the opportunity, Chu Tinghan decided to go out for a walk to clear his head.

But the moment he stepped out of his residential complex, he felt a car trailing him at a distance, steadily closing in.

Assuming it was a paparazzi, Chu Tinghan glanced back warily and saw the car less than ten meters behind him, creeping along at a snail’s pace.

The car’s blatant tailing suggested the driver was utterly inexperienced, likely a rookie in the trade.

Chu Tinghan loathed being watched like this. The hard-won good mood he’d managed to cultivate over the past few days vanished instantly.

He abruptly stopped, turned, and strode purposefully toward the car tailing him.

The person in the car was clearly panicked. After pausing briefly, the reverse lights flicked on.

But Chu Tinghan reacted faster. The instant the reverse lights illuminated, he was already at the passenger-side door, rapping on the window with a frown.

The reverse lights went out. A few minutes later, the passenger-side window slowly rolled down, revealing an exceptionally handsome face.

Pei Ji’s smile was stiff, and he stammered slightly, “W-what a coincidence, Senior! Fancy seeing you again.”

Chu Tinghan paused, then couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you doing here?”

Pei Ji averted his gaze, unable to meet his eyes. His left hand fidgeted on the steering wheel while his right stroked the handbrake, finally managing to stammer out an excuse: “I… I… I thought there’d be fewer cars out this late, so I came to practice driving.”

Chu Tinghan’s smile widened, radiating amusement. “Driving at this speed? How did you even get your license?”

His pace was nearly as slow as a tortoise crawling. Pei Ji involuntarily lowered his head, staring at the steering wheel as he mumbled in embarrassment, “Just luck… sheer luck.”

After a moment, Pei Ji managed to regain his composure and asked with feigned seriousness, “What are you doing out so late?”

Chu Tinghan replied truthfully, “Taking a walk.”

Pei Ji froze. “A… a walk?”

Chu Tinghan, puzzled by his surprise, frowned slightly. “What else would I be doing?”

Pei Ji gazed toward the end of the road. “I remember there’s a park up ahead, with a lake…”

Chu Tinghan sensed an unspoken meaning. “I’m just going for a walk by the lake. What did you think I was going to do?”

He probably thought I was going to jump in, Pei Ji thought, suddenly feeling like an idiot for having such a bizarre thought. Turning his head away in frustration, he muttered, “Nothing,” in a flat tone.

He snapped his head back, restarted the car, and plastered on a reliable and handsome adult man facade, complete with a charming smile. “Get in. I’ll drive you there.”

Chu Tinghan hummed in acknowledgment, opened the passenger door, and slid into the seat.

After driving a few hundred meters, Chu Tinghan suddenly asked, “Were you following me earlier?”

The red light ahead flashed, and Pei Ji slammed on the brakes, startled by the question.

“N-no, of course not,” Pei Ji insisted stubbornly.

Ignoring him, Chu Tinghan pressed, “Why were you following me?”

Pei Ji fell silent. After a long pause, he stammered, “Teacher Zheng heard you were spending the New Year here and asked me to take good care of you. I saw you going out late at night and was worried about your safety, so I followed you. I really didn’t mean to stalk you.”

For some reason, Chu Tinghan’s mind automatically filtered out the latter half of Pei Ji’s explanation, leaving only the first part. He blinked his narrow, fox-like eyes, smiled knowingly, and asked deliberately, “Take good care of me?”

Unfortunately, Pei Ji’s mind was still firmly on the straight and narrow, and he completely missed the underlying implication. He replied earnestly, “Exactly! That’s why I have to ensure your personal safety.”

Upon hearing this, Chu Tinghan’s eyes widened for a fleeting moment. He didn’t hear anything else—just Pei Ji saying he would take responsibility for him.

Throughout his life, he had heard countless times that he needed to be responsible for his parents, his company, investors, fans, and so on…

This was the first time anyone had ever said they would take responsibility for him.

The sensation was peculiar, like an arrow piercing his heart, leaving behind a mark called Pei Ji.

As winter faded into spring and the seasons cycled, Chu Tinghan’s popularity soared, his schedule growing increasingly hectic. Pei Ji, nearing graduation, was also swamped with commitments. During this time, they only managed a fleeting reunion at Pei Ji’s graduation ceremony.

Time flew by like a white colt flashing past a crack, and before they knew it, nearly half a year had passed since their last meeting.

By then, Pei Ji had graduated over four months earlier, signed with Huanyu Media, and entered the entertainment industry as one of its countless nameless aspiring artists.

Though his career had yet to take off, Professor Zheng still regarded him as one of his most outstanding graduates. The professor invited Pei Ji to serve as a guest presenter at the campus awards ceremony, honoring him as a distinguished alumnus.

Pei Ji’s first act upon returning to his alma mater was to visit his esteemed mentor.

As he approached Professor Zheng’s office, he found the door slightly ajar. Through the crack, he glimpsed a familiar figure—Chu Tinghan.

Pei Ji instinctively wanted to rush in and greet him, but fearing he might interrupt their conversation, he suppressed his urge and waited outside for them to finish.

The office building was quiet, and their conversation carried with unusual clarity.

“Xiao Chu, you’re nearly twenty-six now. Many of your classmates are already married. Look at you, all alone—it must be so lonely.”

Professor Zheng paused, then continued, “I happen to have a former student a few years your junior who’s also striving in the entertainment industry. She’s not as famous as you, but she’s beautiful, has a great personality…”

Chu Tinghan cut him off before he could finish, his voice calm and even. “Teacher Zheng, I appreciate your kind intentions, but as you know, my profession makes settling down difficult. Besides, my career is currently at its peak, and I want to focus on working hard and striving for success. I have no plans to date right now.”

Pei Ji heard every word clearly.

No plans to date…

Pei Ji’s heart suddenly lurched, and a deep pit formed in his chest.

He knew Professor Zheng wasn’t talking about him, but he and that other person had so much in common—and it was entirely possible that the other person was even more accomplished than he was.

If Chu Tinghan had rejected someone better than him, what chance did he stand?

Then again, why would a superstar at the peak of his career abandon his promising future to date an unknown actor like me?

Unless he was a fool.

Pei Ji had lost all interest in visiting his mentor. He just wanted to leave, to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.

He stumbled a few steps, dazed, when he heard someone call his name.

A junior, two grades below him, rushed over, his voice brimming with excitement. “Senior Pei Ji! What are you doing back on campus?!”

Pei Ji slowly raised his head, his face pale and his eyes dull.

The junior paused, surprised. “Are you sick?”

Pei Ji waved him off. “No,” he said, brushing past him and walking straight out.

As he walked, a scene from his freshman year suddenly flashed through his mind. It was right here, at this very spot, that he had run into a director who was visiting the school to cast for a new drama. The director had been struck by Pei Ji’s striking appearance, finding his looks perfect for the role, and had asked if he’d be interested in signing with their company and starring in the new drama.

At the time, Pei Ji had considered that he was just starting college, had no formal acting training, and knew nothing about acting, so he had flatly refused.

When he made that decision, he never imagined he would ever regret it.

But now, he truly regretted it.

He wondered: If he had accepted the director’s offer back then and entered the entertainment industry four years earlier, would things be different now?

At least he would have had four more years to build his popularity, closing the vast gap between himself and Chu Tinghan.

If he had been lucky, perhaps he could have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Chu Tinghan, pursuing him boldly and confidently with a status a thousand times, ten thousand times better than his current one.

Instead, he was now fleeing in a daze, utterly defeated.

The junior, too excited to notice Pei Ji’s worsening complexion, assumed he was fine and eagerly chased after him. “Senior, are you coming back to the club? The new members have heard all about your legendary exploits and are dying to meet you!”

If it had been before, Pei Ji would have undoubtedly raised an eyebrow and agreed without hesitation. But now, he only let out a self-mocking chuckle.

He had only a bit of recognition within the school. Outside these walls, who would even know him?

If the new freshmen and sophomores knew what a mess he’d made of himself after graduation, none of them would want to meet him either.

The junior’s voice carried too loudly. Hearing the commotion, the two in the office emerged. Professor Zheng, seeing Pei Ji’s back, smiled warmly and called out his name from a distance.

Though he didn’t want to face a certain someone, Pei Ji had no choice but to stiffly turn around out of politeness. He first greeted Professor Zheng with a respectful “Teacher Zheng,” then shifted his gaze to Chu Tinghan, pausing for a few seconds.

Usually, he would call Chu Tinghan “Senior” with a radiant smile. This time, however, Pei Ji merely offered a slight, courteous curve of his lips, addressing him as “Teacher Chu” with formal deference, just like everyone else.

Every gesture, tone, and expression conveyed extreme detachment.

Chu Tinghan’s brow furrowed involuntarily, filled with confusion and worry.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Pei Ji had changed, yet it was as if nothing had changed at all.

The person was still the same, but the distance between them had inexplicably widened by a thousand miles.

At that moment, Chu Tinghan’s heart was seized by panic, and a single thought filled his mind: Does he not like me anymore?

But… why?