The Tool Brother Thinks It’s Not Okay [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 2

[6 gifted Qin Yunran twenty Exploding Hearts!]

The announcement flashed across other live streams, and many viewers exclaimed, “Holy shit!” before clicking into Qin Yunran’s channel. The viewership numbers skyrocketed.

The Exploding Heart effect was spectacular: a massive, fiery red heart burst into countless fireworks, which gradually faded into firefly-like sparks floating across the screen for about five or six minutes. Nearly a million viewers watched this romantic display.

When the effect finally vanished, the chat went silent for a moment before erupting into a frenzy. God-Spendthrift 6’s name topped the fan contribution leaderboard, and the chat was flooded with “666” messages.

Qin Yunran was stunned. He glanced at his manager across the room, whose usually composed expression had gone completely blank. It was rare for fans to shower celebrity live streams with such extravagant gifts, especially since the platform took a thirty percent cut. Moreover, Qin Yunran was just a rising young actor. Where did this wealthy fan come from?

The female host’s voice rose with excitement. “Wow, twenty Exploding Hearts! This fan must truly adore Yunran!”

Cheng Kaixin sent a large, gold-rimmed comment: “After all, I’m just a die-hard fanboy.”

[A male fan?!] The comments section immediately erupted.

Qin Yunran paused slightly, then said, “Thank you for your support.” He glanced at Cheng Kaixin’s username and repeated, “Thank you very much, Fan 6.”

Cheng Kaixin replied, “I hope you become a movie emperor someday.”

Qin Yunran hesitated. “…Thank you.” 

[He’s a career-focused fan too.]

“You’re welcome,” Cheng Kaixin replied casually.

He lazily propped his chin with one hand while typing with the other, showing none of the excitement one might expect from having their idol acknowledge them.

Qin Yunran spoke politely and formally: “I’d like to take this opportunity to say that you really don’t need to spend money on me. Please stop sending gifts in the future.” After emphasizing this, he added, “After the stream ends, I’ll donate all the money to those in need in the name of my fans. This will be our collective act of kindness, and I welcome everyone to monitor the progress of the donation. Is that okay?”

Cheng Kaixin raised an eyebrow and typed quickly, “You’re so kind.”

Qin Yunran wasn’t usually at a loss for words, but facing this eccentric, wealthy fan, he found himself momentarily speechless.

He’d intended to chat with “6” a bit, but for every sentence he typed, the fan replied with just one, typing quickly but using even fewer words. Especially with the large, glittering “You’re so kind” emblazoned across the screen, the flashy effect clashed starkly with the enthusiastic, positive-energy comments flooding the chat, creating an awkward, stilted atmosphere.

“Meow~” Cheng Kaixin was enjoying Qin Yunran’s subtle expression when he suddenly felt an itch on his leg. Looking down, he saw Lu Jinhua’s Persian cat had slipped into the bedroom, rubbing against his leg and meowing.

“Hungry?” Cheng Kaixin scratched the cat’s chin. “I’m hungry too.” He picked up the cat and stood up, ready to find something to eat.

The chat was going wild, praising Qin Yunran’s donation plan. Qin Yunran said, “I’m just passing on the kindness. We should thank this fan. I believe this money will help many people.”

He gazed earnestly into the screen, his striking eyes clear and bright, as if piercing through the space to meet the eyes of the viewer.

“Meow,” the white cat in his arms nudged Cheng Kaixin affectionately, urging him to find food. Cheng Kaixin glanced at its round blue eyes, then at Qin Yunran’s clear, bright gaze, and chuckled softly. “They really do look alike.”

The female host suggested, “This scene seems perfect for the song ‘Youth.'” The theme song of this campus drama expresses dreams and gratitude. “Yunran, your singing is so beautiful. I’m sure the fans would love to hear you sing it again, right?”

Qin Yunran agreed. “Then I’ll sing ‘Youth’ for everyone.”

Cheng Kaixin paused his departure, bent down, and sent a comment: “You shouldn’t sing. You’ve been talking a lot today; it’s bad for your throat.”

Qin Yunran’s livestream had been running for a long time, and his throat was indeed feeling strained. This thoughtful concern came at just the right moment.

Amidst a flurry of comments urging him to rest, he had just relaxed when large golden letters scrolled across the screen: “Can we hear a cat meow?”

“Something like this.” He sent a super cute cat emoji: “Meow~”

Qin Yunran felt his polite smile was about to crumble.

He visibly stiffened for a moment, and the chat went wild with laughter, demanding to hear it and telling him not to weasel out of it.

After a dry “Meow,” Cheng Kaixin, still holding the cat, declared with satisfaction, “Wonderful!”

The chat exploded with comments: “It’s like Bulbasaur eating Doritos in Mickey Mouse’s Clubhouse—wonderfully wonderful!”

Qin Yunran, looking utterly dismayed, could only stare in silence.

The System was speechless. It had never encountered a host so daring and so good at playing games.

Cheng Kaixin ignored its warnings completely. He’ll panic when he hits a wall with his future missions, the System thought. Then he’ll come crawling back for help.

Reassured by this thought, the System resolved to assert its authority when that day came.

None of the System’s complex thoughts reached Cheng Kaixin. He ended the stream, carried the cat to the kitchen, and found takeout containers scattered across the living room and kitchen table, evidence of meals eaten and not cleaned up.

Lu Jinhua was a troublemaker, still in his rebellious phase at twenty-two. He loved to defy his elders and always suspected the housekeeper his family sent to watch over him was spying on him. Last week, he’d found an excuse to send her back to the old family home, turning the lavishly decorated house into a pigsty.

Fortunately, he had an exceptional older brother. Just over thirty, Lu Jinying was a shrewd and capable businessman who managed the Lu Family’s vast empire with meticulous precision, ensuring the family’s legacy would continue.

Cheng Kaixin searched the kitchen. The refrigerator held only a carton of expired milk. The only edible thing he found was a massive bag of premium cat food. Resigned, he filled the cat’s bowl first. Watching it happily wag its tail and settle down to eat, he finally pulled out his phone to order takeout.

While waiting for the delivery, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw the contact labeled “Debt Collector.”

If Lu Jinying knew how his younger brother saw him, Cheng Kaixin wondered what his expression would be.

“Do you think two million is pocket change? Just throwing it away like that?” Lu Jinying’s steady voice came through the line.

Two million was a pittance for the wealthy Lu Family, but that didn’t excuse Lu Jinhua’s recklessness. Though this wasn’t the first time he’d acted so irresponsibly.

Cheng Kaixin knew Lu Jinying would find out about his misdeeds quickly. He could practically picture Lu Jinying on the other end of the line, rubbing his temples in frustration.

If this had been Lu Jinhua in the past, he would have offered a sheepish apology and empty promises, only to repeat the same mistakes next time. But to Lu Jinying’s surprise, Cheng Kaixin didn’t offer any excuses. Instead, he simply called him “Brother.”

Heaven knew how long it had been since Lu Jinying had heard that term of endearment. The unexpected warmth in Cheng Kaixin’s voice left him momentarily stunned. His initial tone of interrogation softened, awkwardly shifting into concern about whether Cheng Kaixin had enough money.

“The monthly allowance you deposit into my account is more than enough,” Cheng Kaixin replied. “But I’ve been bored out of my mind at home lately. I can’t keep living like this, just spending your money.”

Lu Jinying was taken aback by this sudden display of self-awareness. After a moment of stunned silence, he replied stiffly, “I’m your brother. It’s not like I’m just throwing money away.”

As Cheng Kaixin opened the door to retrieve his takeout, he continued to play the role of a repentant younger brother. “I’m not a kid anymore. It’s not right for me to just freeload all day. I was thinking of getting a job at one of our family’s companies. Lingxing Entertainment seems interesting. I’ve been really into the entertainment industry lately…”

Only after hanging up did Lu Jinying realize he’d not only forgotten his original intention but also given this brat the power to wreak havoc at Lingxing Entertainment.

Cheng Kaixin pulled out the steaming pizza, finally able to fill his stomach after a day of hunger.

The System seemed quite pleased. “Your choice is excellent. With a film company, you’ll have access to more resources and be able to better assist the protagonist.”

“Exactly,” Cheng Kaixin replied. “Now I can sign whoever catches my eye and invest in whatever dramas I want to see.”

“??? So that’s all you cared about?!” the System exclaimed.

“Mostly for the mission,” Cheng Kaixin said.

The System suspected he was just placating it but had no proof.

Cheng Kaixin glanced at the mirror on the wall, pizza in his mouth, and walked over.

The mirror reflected a tall man with long, thick bangs and dark circles under his eyes. His features were handsome, but he looked rather disheveled.

After swallowing his bite, he swept his hair back, revealing a full forehead.

“Not bad-looking,” he murmured, smiling at his reflection. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and his previously listless face seemed to come alive. His narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, brimming with amusement, like ripples of spring water.

“Oh, right, what did you do before?” the System finally remembered to ask. “Do you know how to run a company?” Cheng Kaixin’s mental strength was so strong that even though the System was bound to his soul, it couldn’t access his memories.

Cheng Kaixin studied his reflection in the mirror, then grabbed a pair of scissors and began trimming his bangs. His movements seemed casual, the uneven strands falling haphazardly, yet the result wasn’t messy at all. Instead, it exuded a youthful energy.

“Check out my expert skills,” he said.

The System had a bad feeling about this.

Cheng Kaixin brushed away the stray hairs, whistled at the refreshed-looking young man in the mirror, and teased the System, “You can call me Tony-sensei.”

The System fell silent, starting to doubt its judgment in choosing this host.

*****

Qin Yunran couldn’t remember how he’d finished the livestream, nor did he want to.

After leaving the studio, his manager, Qu Wen, drove him home, stifling laughter the entire way. In the rearview mirror, Qin Yunran’s face remained expressionless and cold.

Back at his apartment, Qin Yunran rested briefly before pulling out his phone. He immediately saw the freshly minted meme Qu Wen had sent him.

He glanced at Qu Wen. “If you’re bored, get me some water.”

Qu Wen poured him a glass of water. Just as he sat down on the sofa, he grabbed his phone and jumped up, his face full of shock. “You’re trending!”

Qin Yunran’s role had only brought him moderate fame, still far from top-tier status. He never imagined he’d trend at this stage of his career.

He checked Weibo and found two trending topics: #QinYunranIsNotScheming and #QinYunranMillionDollarDonation

The first trend praised his strong moral values, sparked by a few casual remarks he’d made during his livestream that resonated with many viewers. The subsequent PR articles all emphasized his positive image, barely mentioning the mysterious wealthy fan.

After the initial shock, Qu Wen called the agency. When he returned, he looked puzzled. “As expected, the agency definitely didn’t buy these trends. So where did they come from? The PR and comment control are spot-on, this was clearly done by a professional team. Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”

“No clue,” Qin Yunran replied, though his mind drifted to that strange male fan. He drained his glass, but his throat still felt parched. Staring blankly at the empty glass for a moment, he suddenly remembered something from today’s livestream: “6” had been concerned about his throat and told him not to sing.

Qin Yunran poured himself another glass of water and, on a whim, opened the live streaming app. He tapped on “6”‘s profile: Male, 53 years old, Nicaraguan. The profile picture showed a chubby, snow-white Persian cat with sapphire-blue eyes that gleamed like gemstones.

He scrolled through the man’s posts, but found nothing revealing. Most were photos of luxury goods and mansions, with occasional short videos featuring only the cat.

Even knowing this information might be entirely fabricated, Qin Yunran couldn’t shake the image of a wealthy, middle-aged man in his mind. He pictured the man with a thick gold chain around his neck, stroking the cat with a greasy hand while typing excitedly, “Can I hear the cat meow?”

…The plain water in his mouth suddenly tasted a little nauseating.

Support The Tool Brother Thinks It’s Not Okay [Quick Transmigration]