After Amnesia, I Learn I'm a Scumbag Top?! - Chapter 71

Chapter 71

When Pei Ji awoke, he found himself lying in a hospital bed, with Chu Tinghan watching over him.

Chu Tinghan looked utterly exhausted, having fallen asleep right by the bedside, his head pillowed against the edge of the mattress. Though his breathing was steady, his sleep was troubled. A faint frown creased his brow, and his beautiful eyes fluttered beneath their lids, as if reliving some terrible scene in his dreams.

Having a nightmare?

Pei Ji instinctively tried to sit up, bracing himself on the bed. But the moment he moved his hand, he realized something was covering it.

The soft, cool touch was exactly as he remembered.

He glanced down and saw it was Chu Tinghan’s hand.

Even in his sleep, Chu Tinghan hadn’t forgotten to grasp his hand, as if terrified he might vanish again.

Pei Ji’s gaze lingered on their clasped hands, and fragments of his recently recovered memories flashed through his mind, stirring a bitter ache in his heart.

In those memories, Chu Tinghan’s most frequent question had been: Why are you leaving?

Back then, Pei Ji had been too afraid to tell the truth, responding only with silence or weaving elaborate lies.

But neither answer had given Chu Tinghan the closure he desperately sought.

All he wanted was Pei Ji himself—to have Pei Ji by his side forever, never to be parted.

Pei Ji didn’t pull his hand away this time. Instead, he painstakingly sat up with an awkward, stiff posture.

He moved with extreme caution, afraid to make the slightest noise or even let the bed creak, lest he wake the man sleeping soundly beside him.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass window, bathing Chu Tinghan in a golden glow like a delicate veil. The radiant light accentuated his already exquisite features, especially his delicate, high-bridged nose and long, thick lashes.

Pei Ji leaned closer, his movements deliberate and silent, until he could see even the fine down on Chu Tinghan’s cheek. He paused, holding his breath, to admire the sight. This was the first time he had ever observed Chu Tinghan’s face so closely and carefully.

Chu Tinghan’s features were so striking they could easily be described as one-in-a-million. Slanted phoenix eyes, a boxy nose, and thin lips—features that should have appeared cold and distant—were softened by thick, curled eyelashes and amber eyes. The combination was both distinctive and perfectly suited to his character: sharp yet gentle, beautiful with an edge of masculine strength.

Five years ago, he had fallen in love with that face at first sight.

And five years later, today, he still couldn’t tear his gaze away from that exquisitely refined face, even more captivated than before.

A moment later, those beautiful brows suddenly furrowed slightly, and the hand gripping his tightened a fraction.

Pei Ji suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth the crease between his brows, to dispel that hint of sorrow.

Another nightmare?

What kind of nightmare? A nightmare about me?

Did I say things in the dream that broke your heart…?

He silently raised his other hand, hesitantly and slowly reaching toward the space between Chu Tinghan’s brows.

He didn’t just want to smooth away the crease; he also longed to gently stroke his face.

But before he could touch him, Chu Tinghan’s eyes suddenly snapped open, and in the very next instant, as if by unspoken agreement, he lifted his head and looked directly at Pei Ji.

Their eyes met: one filled with confusion, the other with panic.

Pei Ji hadn’t expected him to wake up. When those amber eyes met his, his heart suddenly skipped a beat. His hand froze awkwardly in mid-air. After a few seconds, he quickly blinked, averted his gaze, and hastily retracted his hand.

Chu Tinghan watched his movements, puzzled. He felt as though Pei Ji’s gaze had changed, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

Is it his feelings that have changed? Or his memories?

Was he remembering the past? If so, would he leave again this time?

These two questions haunted Pei Ji’s thoughts, but he feared answers he didn’t want to hear, so he hesitated to ask.

Mentally bracing himself, Pei Ji turned his gaze back to Chu Tinghan and stared at him quietly for a moment before hesitantly beginning, “You…”

He wanted to ask about the dream Chu Tinghan had just had, but he barely managed to utter half a word when the hospital room door suddenly swung open, and several people barged in, shattering the serene atmosphere.

Hearing the commotion, Pei Ji instinctively looked over. When he recognized the group, he froze, both bewildered and astonished.

Nearly everyone he was even slightly close to in life was here:

His mother, friends, his assistant, and his manager.

Moreover, Chu Tinghan’s assistant, Guan Nan, was pouring water for his boss, while his manager, Wu Qian, lurked behind the crowd, his expression complex.

The moment Pei Ji saw Wu Qian, nightmarish fragments of memory flashed through his mind like broken film reels.

He understood why Wu Qian was hiding at the back and could guess his reasons for visiting.

Perhaps it was a flicker of guilt?

From Wu Qian’s perspective, it was he who had forced Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan to separate a year ago. If he hadn’t insisted Pei Ji drive away that night, Pei Ji wouldn’t have been in that car accident.

He had wanted to apologize to Pei Ji back then, but he didn’t know how to face Chu Tinghan. If Chu Tinghan ever found out that Pei Ji had been forced to leave because of him—that his actions had indirectly caused the accident—Chu Tinghan might never speak to him again.

After so many years together, Chu Tinghan had long since become more than just a cash cow who brought in huge profits. He was the artist Wu Qian had nurtured since childhood, like a son to him.

So, after learning that Pei Ji was out of mortal danger, Wu Qian used his mother’s supposed illness as an excuse to disappear.

He never imagined that Pei Ji would wake up with amnesia, and then somehow end up marrying Chu Tinghan in a daze.

Their life paths had somehow, against all odds, converged back onto the same track.

When Wu Qian heard about their marriage, his feelings were conflicted. On one hand, he was happy for Chu Tinghan, because he could see how deeply Chu Tinghan loved Pei Ji—just as Chu Tinghan had said, he couldn’t live without him. On the other hand, Wu Qian worried for Chu Tinghan. He feared that Pei Ji might not be someone worthy of trust, that Chu Tinghan’s hard-earned career of so many years might be washed away because of one man.

But now… he realized he’d been wrong all along. Pei Ji’s motives for approaching Chu Tinghan weren’t the pursuit of fame and fortune he’d imagined. On the contrary, Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan, like two halves of a whole, were drawn together by nothing more than genuine affection.

Unfortunately, the man had long since drifted too far from such sentiments. He’d lost faith that true love could exist within the cesspool of fame and ambition.

He had nearly destroyed a perfect match with his stubborn assumptions. But thankfully, Pei Ji was still alive, and there was still time to make amends.

With this thought, he stepped out of the crowd, glanced at Chu Tinghan, then turned to Pei Ji. Lowering his gaze, he sighed, “I won’t interfere in your affairs again. Try not to quarrel so much, and live well together.”

After speaking these words, he silently patted Chu Tinghan’s back and walked away.

Pei Ji’s gaze instinctively followed him toward the door until he belatedly noticed a slightly weathered figure standing in the hallway outside.

The man’s hair seemed a bit whiter than before, his eyes crinkled with wrinkles. He stood hunched over, listless and dejected, bearing no trace of the commanding presence befitting a renowned director.

Pei Ji could scarcely believe his eyes.

Why was Director Liang Wangqiu—the man who might be his biological father—also standing guard outside his hospital room? And why did he look so heartbroken?

Pei Ji cast a questioning glance at Liang Wangqiu.

Noticing his gaze, Liang Wangqiu moved his lips as if to speak, but Jiang Xuehua, standing beside him, cut him off.

Jiang Xuehua frowned, her tone sharp. “He’s just woken up. Whatever it is, we can talk about it later.”

Liang Wangqiu looked at Pei Ji, hesitating, before lowering his head and trudging heavily away from the hospital room door.

Watching his slightly forlorn figure retreat, Pei Ji couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever Liang Wangqiu wanted to say couldn’t be good news.

But he didn’t care about that now. His gaze lingered on Liang Wangqiu’s back for only a few seconds before drifting away.

Inside the room, everyone was gathered around his bed, their eyes filled with the same worry.

Jiang Xuehua stepped forward and handed him a cup of warm water. “Aji, how are you feeling now? Any better? If anything still hurts, tell Mom. I’ll get you the best doctors.”

Qiao He, torn between tears and laughter, blamed himself. “Brother, I’m so glad you’re okay. You scared me to death! I should have driven with you. If I’d been there, I definitely wouldn’t have let the hit-and-run driver get away.”

An Zhu stood silently at the far end of the bed, observing the scene without a word.

While the assistant and his mother fussed over him on the left, Pei Ji’s gaze remained fixed on the right. He nearly dropped his water cup, his attention divided.

Anyone who didn’t know better might think he had a lazy eye, naturally drawn to the right.

It’s not like they’re meeting for the first time, An Zhu thought. Why are his eyes practically glued to that guy?

Was Chu Tinghan, the man in the bed to his right, really that handsome?

After a moment’s observation, An Zhu suddenly felt the three of them glowing brighter and brighter. As she had suspected, the pair gazing at each other with such affection were creating a palpable chemistry.

In their world, only each other existed; no one else mattered.

The more An Zhu thought about it, the more superfluous she felt the three of them were. She cleared her throat pointedly, and Jiang Xuehua and Qiao He turned to look at her, their expressions puzzled.

Qiao He, ever dense, missed her hint entirely. “Is your throat sore?” he asked solicitously. “Maybe you didn’t dress warmly enough last night and caught a chill. Since we’re still at the hospital, why don’t you go get it checked out?”

An Zhu: ?

She winked at him, but Qiao He remained clueless, still leaning in solicitously to ask if she had something in her eye.

An Zhu: ……

Was it sand in her eyes, or water in his brain?

Couldn’t he see how deeply in love they were? Did he really not realize how obnoxiously he was intruding on their private moment? Did he really need Pei Ji to explicitly ask him to leave?

Even a third wheel should have some self-awareness. You can’t just hang around a couple, shining like a spotlight.

An Zhu first pulled Qiao He aside, feigning a need for a medical consultation. At the clinic door, she abruptly stopped, forced a strained smile, and, using a fictitious “business discussion” as her excuse, dragged President Jiang away as well.

Before leaving, she even considerately closed the door behind them.

As the door clicked shut, silence finally descended, leaving Pei Ji and Chu Tinghan alone in the room once more.

Now that his memories had returned, Pei Ji had so much he wanted to say to Chu Tinghan. He wanted to thank him for taking in his disoriented self that day by the roadside, for quietly repaying his 16 million yuan debt, for finding him a puppy to distract him and help him gradually emerge from the shadows, for staying by his side through all these years…

And, of course, to apologize.

He had underestimated Chu Tinghan’s love for him. When he chose to leave years ago, he never imagined that, despite all the hardships and setbacks, Chu Tinghan would still be holding onto his hand, refusing to let go.

It was his excessive caution that had caused Chu Tinghan such agonizing pain.

If he hadn’t insisted on leaving, Chu Tinghan would never have conceived the absurd scheme of using a child to trick him into marriage.

With a thousand unspoken words weighing on his heart, Pei Ji slowly reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind Chu Tinghan’s ear. Behind that strand, those eyes trembled, betraying their owner’s inner turmoil.

Gazing into those clear amber eyes, luminous in the sunlight, Pei Ji finally saw through Chu Tinghan’s facade, understanding what he truly wanted: a partner who could accept him unconditionally, stay by his side, and always cherish and protect him.

Therefore, what he should say now, what he needed to express most urgently, wasn’t gratitude or apologies, but these words: I will never leave you again.

Life is full of unexpected coincidences. Though they had been separated for some time, for various reasons, they hadn’t yet registered their divorce at the Civil Affairs Bureau.

So, they were still holding their marriage certificate.

Pei Ji found the golden script on the red booklet quite beautiful—no need to replace it with silver.

This marriage would last forever.

As for the divorce agreement he had drafted back then…

Recalling these memories, Pei Ji asked softly, “Do you still have the divorce agreement?”

A complex emotion flickered in Chu Tinghan’s amber eyes, but he didn’t answer.

Seeing his silence, Pei Ji pondered for a moment and added, “Where is it? Should I have someone fetch it?”

In the next instant, Chu Tinghan suddenly lowered his gaze, pursed his lips, and forced a wan smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. His voice was barely audible as he murmured, “I still have it. I’ll go get it.”

With that, he immediately stood up, as if unwilling to linger in the room for another second, and stumbled hurriedly out.

Pei Ji frowned slightly, sensing that Chu Tinghan’s emotional state seemed off.

Why is he so heartbroken? And why does his expression carry that helpless resignation, as if he’s already accepted the inevitable outcome?

Pei Ji replayed his words in his mind, and alarm bells rang in his head.

Damn it, Chu Tinghan must have misunderstood me! He probably thinks I want the divorce agreement because I want to divorce him!

It’s my fault for not being clearer. What I meant was, “We’ll never need the divorce agreement again. Let’s burn it!”

Pei Ji hurriedly climbed out of bed and rushed out to find him.