Marrying the Scumbag Gong’s Villainous Older Brother [Transmigration] - Chapter 5

When he woke up from his noon nap, Jing Xun suddenly received a call from home. Seeing the word “Mom” displayed on the phone screen, he froze for a good while before realizing he was now Yan Jingxun, and quickly answered the call.

“…Mom?”

It was a bit stiff, but Jing Xun managed to call out.

A coarse female voice came from the other end, calling him “Axun.” The background sounded noisy; Jing Xun knew this call was likely made from a hospital.

The original owner’s biological parents had divorced when he was very young. His mother took him and remarried. Fortunately, his stepfather was an honest man. Although they later had a younger brother, the family lived harmoniously, and their financial situation was originally quite stable.

Everything changed when his brother was diagnosed with leukemia. To treat him, his mother and stepfather had already spent all the family’s savings. In fact, the original owner wasn’t just responsible for his own tuition and living expenses; he frequently sent money home.

His mother, a woman of urgent temperament, got straight to the point: “Your brother’s medicine is going to cost more than 10,000 yuan again. We’ve scraped together most of it, but we’re still 3,000 short. Do you have any extra money?”

“Mhm,” Jing Xun replied. He decisively opened his mobile banking app to check the original owner’s account.

There was a little over 4,000 yuan left—money the original owner had meticulously saved for his brother.

Jing Xun said into the phone, “Mom, don’t worry. I’ll transfer the money to you right away.”

“Oh,” the woman replied, her tone finally lightened by a bit of joy.

She then asked Jing Xun about his recent situation. Her tone wasn’t as urgent as before, but it sounded somewhat humble—a lingering sense of guilt for having neglected her eldest son.

The original owner’s mother loved him dearly and never ignored him even after forming a new family. However, since the younger brother fell ill, the family had been in such a frantic state that it was hard to treat both children equally.

Jing Xun found it understandable. While answering her questions, he scrolled through his transaction history and transferred all the money in the account, leaving not a single penny behind.

He had no relatives in his past life and didn’t know what it felt like to have a brother. But from the original owner’s memory, he could glean some fragments… he had images in his mind of that little brother clumsily learning to walk and using his chubby hands to grab Jing Xun’s knees, calling him “Brother.”

After hanging up and looking at his empty balance—plus the meager cash in his pocket and an insufficient meal card—Jing Xun fell into deep thought.

He hadn’t worried about money for a long time. Because of his poor health, everything he ate or used was strictly measured, and he had no luxury hobbies. To many, the 15-year-old Jing Xun was a “national weapon” without emotions. He competed and researched in the name of the state and never concerned himself with commercial returns. Accordingly, his medical and living expenses were provided by the state.

But not worrying about it didn’t mean he didn’t know its importance.

In the original book, the Yan family would soon need a massive sum of money. The subsequent medical costs for his brother couldn’t be solved by just a few thousand yuan. In the original plot, the scum gong, who was then regaining interest in the original owner, stepped in to plug the financial hole.

Those funds weren’t much to the scum gong, but they were “charcoal in the snow” for the original owner. This was another reason he fell for the scum gong again, yet it was also the beginning of his “PUA” (emotional manipulation) ordeal.

The tragic roots of the novel Although I Love You were many, but the massive wealth gap between the gong and shou was an insurmountable chasm.

With such a painful realization, Jing Xun would be a true bookworm if he didn’t develop some self-awareness. So, during his free time in the afternoon, he opened recruitment websites to see if he could find a suitable job.

To earn money, the original owner had done everything: part-time domestic work, washing dishes, selling milk tea, and handing out flyers. The fact that he could maintain his grades and serve as a student leader under such conditions was very inspiring.

If only he hadn’t met that scum gong… Sigh.

Jing Xun could do the jobs the original owner had done—in fact, he really wanted to try them if he had time. But the money came too slowly, and time waited for no one. Unfortunately, high-paying positions were out of reach for a junior undergraduate. After browsing for half the day, he couldn’t find a single company with suitable conditions.

Frustrated, Jing Xun began to research the possibility of taking on “private freelance work.”

That evening, he headed to the recruitment fair with his two roommates. Although the fair was targeted at the School of Computer Science, it didn’t bar students from other departments. Each student even received a brochure upon entering—a promotional booklet for Yiwei Technology.

Yiwei Technology primarily engaged in cutting-edge tech research and development. Though established only two years ago, it had expanded with lightning speed. While not yet at the absolute peak of the industry, it had already secured a dominant position.

Others might not see the reason behind this, but based on his partial knowledge of the novel, Jing Xun could deduce that Yiwei’s growth was inseparable from the villainous elder brother, Shen Yijin.

Yiwei was founded single-handedly by Shen Yijin. As a villain, despite already controlling 80% of the Shen family’s assets, he chose to pave a new path in high-tech. This kind of foresight was not something the romance-obsessed male lead could match.

While the emotional entanglements in the novel were melodramatic, some aspects were quite realistic. For example, the author didn’t give the unlearned scum gong any “heaven-defying golden fingers”; he lost completely in the end. It was as if the author wanted to show that if one loses their humanity and makes the wrong choices at every crossroad of fate, they will fail miserably regardless of their starting point.

Jing Xun looked at the brochure. It detailed corporate culture and development directions but didn’t mention the founder. It was said that he was very low-profile.

What a pity, Jing Xun sighed internally. He was actually quite curious about what the villainous brother looked like. Just… pure curiosity.

The “fierce face” mentioned repeatedly by the author and his senior—just how fierce was it? Of course, he could only remain curious. Shen Yijin had to manage the Shen family and his own companies; how could he personally come to a place like this?

The recruitment fair hadn’t started when Jing Xun’s group arrived. To show respect to Yiwei Technology, the school had specifically cleared out a large auditorium.

The auditorium was spacious. Organizers were moving back and forth, students were already seated, and a few people were gathered around a slide presentation at the front, discussing something passionately.

“See that old man?” Tang Jingyuan whispered. “That’s Professor Huo, a big shot in our school’s Computer Science department.”

“It is Professor Huo! His photo is on the wall of fame!” Yang Yi added. “I heard Yiwei specifically came here for recruitment because of him.”

“Oh?” Tang Jingyuan’s eyes widened in confusion.

Yang Yi said, “Apparently Yiwei is starting a new project and needs Professor Huo to lead students in providing technical support. They’ve always been partners. Actually, many companies want to work with our department. As they say, follow Professor Huo and there’s meat to eat.”

While they were talking, Jing Xun’s attention was captured by the content on the slides. After a few glances, he stepped forward, wanting to hear what the people on stage were saying about that slide.

Whether it was a sudden whim of Professor Huo to test his students or a collective brainstorming session, as the fair approached its start time, the people around the slide all looked perplexed.

Professor Huo scanned them one by one. He looked kind, but his gaze was stern—the quintessential strict teacher. He repeated his question: “Does anyone have a way to solve this? I’ve taught you so many algorithms, and now you can’t even handle a simple data processing task?”

The students around him all looked anxious or ashamed. Professor Huo watched their reactions with a sense of “hating iron for not becoming steel.”

It was then that his gaze shifted down and he noticed a student standing not far from the podium.

The student was thin, with neatly trimmed short hair. His features were refined, his face like a piece of polished jade—clean and carrying a scholarly aura. He wasn’t standing there alone. The hall was quite chaotic right now, but he was the most eye-catching one.

Not just because of his outstanding appearance, but mainly because of the unique focus in his gaze as he looked at the slide. His eyes were filled with passion. It had been many years since Professor Huo had seen such excitement in a student’s eyes.

Without thinking, he blurted out: “That student down there, do you have a line of thought for this problem?”

Jing Xun only realized the old professor was calling him after being addressed several times and prompted by others. It wasn’t that he was daydreaming; he was just preoccupied with solving the problem in his head. When his brain was running at high speed, his ability to process external information weakened significantly.

Coming back to his senses, Jing Xun politely met the gaze: “Professor, were you calling me?”

“You know how to answer this, don’t you?” The professor changed his phrasing; he seemed to have already seen the answer in Jing Xun’s eyes. To prevent the noise from drowning out the conversation, he spoke directly into the microphone: “Come, come up here and tell me about it.”

The voice, aged but full of vigor, boomed through the hall. As the most authoritative professor spoke, the entire venue quieted down. In an instant, dozens of eyes fell on Jing Xun. However, he had experienced this countless times since winning math competitions in his teens.

He didn’t feel uncomfortable before, and he didn’t now. Out of a desire for academic exchange, Jing Xun instinctively walked onto the stage.

“This set of data can be handled using the sequence modular method; it’s quite simple.”

The gentle and pure voice was transmitted through the microphone. Even though the mic was some distance away, his pleasant tone made the audience fall further into silence.

After a brief pause, Jing Xun looked at the other students and added sincerely: “The difficult part is the establishment of individual subprograms within the algorithm. Some require building more complex mathematical models involving professional modeling issues, which cannot be solved by majoring in Computer Science alone.”

The implication was that these students weren’t necessarily ignorant of algorithms; they were just stuck on a specific link.

As soon as he said this, the expressions of the students who had been staring at him defensively softened instantly. Originally, a problem they couldn’t answer being called “very simple” by someone else was a slap in the face. But by saying this, he not only saved their pride but also explained to the teacher why they couldn’t answer—he was helping them!

The gazes from those on stage turned into admiration and even gratitude. And once the “colored glasses” were removed, they all realized… this student was not only well-spoken but also quite easy on the eyes! More importantly, who was he? They had never seen him in the department before!

Unlike the students’ mental journey, Professor Huo looked at Jing Xun with even more appreciation.

“Oh? What models did you think of?” An excited Professor Huo gestured to Jing Xun. “Come, tell everyone about it.”

Jing Xun hesitated for a fraction of a second before picking up a whiteboard marker and began building the model on the large whiteboard next to the slide.

In the parking lot outside the venue, two low-profile sedans were parked. Soon, a group of people in crisp suits appeared near the hall.

“President Shen, please watch your step. Just around this wall is the main entrance…”

As the third-in-command of the university, Vice President Gao was personally guiding the way. Beside him, a counselor from the Computer Science department said flatteringly: “I didn’t expect you to come personally, President Shen. Our department is truly honored…”

The man surrounded by the crowd like a moon among stars was expressionless. He was exceptionally tall, and his undeniable aura made him appear even more dignified.

Shen Yijin only said: “I happened to be free and came to visit Professor Huo on the way.”

Vice President Gao laughed: “Hahaha, Professor Huo is inside. We’ll see him in a moment. Coincidentally, he’s been leading students on some new technology lately. If you’re interested, you can exchange ideas later.”

Shen Yijin: “Mhm.”

Clearly, President Shen was a man of few words. His aura made it hard for anyone to force a conversation. But as the donor of two buildings and the largest financier of various school research projects over the years, how could they dare neglect him? Moreover, the school’s recent research project was running out of funds and was counting on his investment.

Vice President Gao and the counselor exchanged a look. At that moment, the phone of the assistant beside Shen Yijin rang. The assistant, also in elite attire, apologized with a look and stayed behind to take the call.

The call wasn’t long, lasting about thirty seconds. Soon, the assistant caught up with them and whispered two sentences to Shen Yijin.

“That person? Found?” Shen Yijin asked.

“…Not yet.” Jin Zheheng felt a bit ashamed. “We’ve found the surveillance records, but to confirm the identity, we still need to compare big data. It will take some time…”

“Big data?” Vice President Gao, who was struggling for a topic, immediately chimed in upon hearing the term: “Haha, then President Shen is just in time! Professor Huo’s recent research direction is big data processing. The technology is almost mature. Do you want to try it? Maybe you’ll find him then, hahaha…”

The laughter turned into an awkward chuckle. Though it was a joke, Vice President Gao realized it might have been inappropriate. In front of Shen Yijin, it felt as if no jokes could land. This man didn’t look like someone who liked joking. Even the counselor looked at him with disapproval, as if saying: How did someone with such social skills become a Vice President?

Unexpectedly, this time, the usually silent President Shen actually responded.

He said: “There’s no need for that.”

“Huh?”

“President Shen?”

Shen Yijin suddenly stopped in front of a half-open window, his gaze directed straight into the auditorium.

It was actually a small ventilation window—not large and placed quite high, about 1.7 or 1.8 meters from the ground. But for someone of Shen Yijin’s height, he could easily see the situation inside.

After observing for a full thirty seconds, Shen Yijin spoke again, his voice deep: “He has already been found.”