VHBF – Chapter 86 Movie King Daddy (Part 45)

The Y2 learning software was still gaining momentum and even made it onto the trending searches, but Zhu Ji had no idea. After leaving the company, he remembered that his little dumpling said she wanted to invite her classmates over to play, so he carried her straight to the mall.

The father and daughter dressed low-key, both wearing masks. The little dumpling even had on a pink bunny-eared hat. Nestled in her father’s arms, she wandered around a large shopping mall, getting ready to buy supplies to entertain her little friends.

Ever since becoming a big boss and moving into her big villa, the little dumpling was no longer that penny-pinching, miserly baby she used to be. She had a good memory and knew which classmates were kind to her. She pointed at this snack saying a certain classmate liked it, pointed at another saying someone else preferred it.

Even two large shopping carts weren’t enough for her. She looked about ready to buy out a third. Zhu Ji let her do as she pleased.

Thinking of how rough things had been before—how she would worry whether her daddy had enough to eat, how she even secretly picked up bottles to help out—now that life had improved, she finally dared to act like an ordinary child, wanting this and that without hesitation. Her sweet sensibility was so heart-achingly adorable it almost hurt.

His bottom line kept being pushed further and further. Faced with her bright, clear eyes, he had absolutely no resistance. As long as she called “Daddy~” in that soft, milky voice, he wished he could give her everything he had—and even what he didn’t have!

The two bought things joyfully, completely exuding the aura of a pair of local tyrants, as if they were emptying out half the supermarket. Just then, a young man pushed a shopping cart over from the opposite direction. He stopped beside Zhu Ji and exclaimed in surprise, “Teacher Zhu? You’re here too?”

“Long time no see. Ever since we finished that drama, I haven’t seen you again. I’ve been really looking forward to working with you again and receiving your guidance.”

The young man was extremely enthusiastic. With rosy lips and white teeth, he had the popular “creamy boy” look. As he leaned closer and closer, Zhu Ji instinctively frowned and stepped back a little.

He gave a slight nod. “Hello. What a coincidence.”

Wei Ming beamed even brighter and looked at the curious-faced little dumpling in his arms. “So this is Teacher Zhu’s precious little girl? I’ve been following your updates online. I’ve watched every single episode of the show you filmed with her. I’ve been curious about little Yinyin for a long time. You’re really blessed, Teacher Zhu—your daughter is so obedient and adorable. Who in the circle doesn’t envy you?”

As mentioned before, Wei Ming was a deeply scheming person. But with such a fresh, gentle face, he naturally carried a neighbor-boy kind of charm, making him popular with strangers. When he pretended, he really pretended—acting like the perfect junior, the perfect “good uncle”.

Even the little dumpling, who was particularly sensitive to people’s emotions, was fooled. She blinked, saw that this uncle seemed friendly to her father, tilted her little head, smiled sweetly, and obediently called him “Uncle”.

Wei Ming’s smile froze for a split second. He had approached them with ulterior motives, and the little brat smiling so sweetly and innocently at him made him feel oddly uncomfortable. But only for a moment. He quickly suppressed the feeling.

In the entertainment industry, if you don’t look after yourself, no one else will. A moment of softness wouldn’t bring him a better life. At worst, he thought, he could choose not to completely destroy them in the future—maybe even offer the child a helping hand, give them some money, let them live a bit better.

With that thought, he felt calmer. He smiled even more warmly and stretched out his hand to rub the little dumpling’s fluffy head. His movement was so natural—so natural that it gave no time for warning.

Even though Zhu Ji sensed this man wasn’t clean, he couldn’t avoid the touch in time. There was a shelf behind him, and the shopping cart Wei Ming pushed blocked the front.

Just as he was about to step aside with his daughter, the little dumpling blinked and instinctively dodged Wei Ming’s hand. She looked at the young uncle in surprise and said in her tender voice, “Uncle, is your hand electric? It felt hot and tingly.”

Wei Ming awkwardly scratched his head. “Just an illusion, just an illusion. How could a person’s hand be electric?”

After explaining, he silently called to his system, asking if the task had been completed.

The system had told him he needed to touch the brat’s head. Even though the contact just now was brief, a touch was still a touch. Considering how supposedly powerful the system was, it should’ve been enough.

The first time he called, the system didn’t respond. Before Wei Ming could call again, a sizzling, buzzing sound erupted in his mind—followed by a stabbing pain so intense it felt like his brain was being torn apart. He suddenly squatted down on the spot, clutching his head with a pained expression.

He couldn’t even think about where the system had gone or whether the plan had succeeded. The agony felt like flesh was being peeled from his skull—he wanted to faint, but instead, he became more and more conscious.

Zhu Ji held his daughter and watched coldly. He wasn’t stupid, nor did he believe his baby would lie. If she said something felt wrong when that uncle touched her, then something must be wrong.

Wei Ming was incredibly strange. The first time Zhu Ji’s scandals exploded online, it was conveniently tied to acting opposite this man. His basics were weak—blocking, lines, and expressions all failed to meet the standard—so they had to reshoot scene after scene.

If it had been another junior who genuinely wanted to learn, they would have felt grateful a movie emperor was personally guiding them. After all, it was their poor acting delaying a senior actor. What reason would there be to complain?

But instead, a “scandal” broke out claiming the movie emperor bullied newcomers and purposely suppressed him. Zhu Ji had reviewed the video—it looked perfectly normal at first glance, but was wrong everywhere upon closer inspection.

The expressions in the video weren’t his. In reality, he never showed impatience on set, even when delayed. He had crawled up from the bottom and had good self-discipline. He never thought being slow to learn was a sin.

But the video showed him frowning irritably, acting arrogant and condescending, even saying lines he had never spoken.

Yet the entire production team didn’t notice anything wrong. Even when Zhu Ji sent the video for verification, no evidence of tampering could be found. It looked authentic.

This so-called airtight “evidence” had delivered the first blow to his career—and the one who benefited was that very “bullied” junior actor.

Back in the present, Wei Ming writhed on the floor in pain, alarming the mall staff. Someone had already called 120 to send him to the hospital.

After about a minute, the convulsions stopped. He was drenched in cold sweat, face pale as a corpse. When he opened his eyes, the only thing he saw was the tall, straight figure of the man walking away with a child in his arms.

A mall worker crouched beside him, asking anxiously, “Sir, are you alright? We’ve called 120. Please wait here.”

Before they even reached home, the little dumpling said she was sleepy. The moment the words left her mouth, she fell fast asleep in her father’s arms, little face flushed, breathing softly and steadily.

Zhu Ji gently touched her forehead and, seeing her breathing normal, finally relaxed.

At the same time, the system let out a huge burp. It was stuffed to bursting. Who knew where such a pile of garbage data came from, daring to lay a finger on its little cub?

Normally, when the human cub was with the villain father, the system rarely showed up. Lately, it had even learned the human habit of napping.

Fortunately, as the first system ever to choose a human child as its host, it had been foresighted. Since the cub was so young, it had set up protective mechanisms early on—once triggered, they would nullify the first wave of harm and alert the system instantly.

The moment it sensed danger, the system exploded with rage. It considered itself among the highest tier of advanced systems—far superior to both humans and other systems. And that foul-smelling, glitch-ridden hunk of trash data dared challenge its authority?

Without hesitation, it crushed the lump of data into a ring, savoring its helpless squirming, and then stuffed it into its mouth with a satisfied crunch.

Garbage was garbage, but at least it filled its stomach. The system hummed a human nursery rhyme as it enjoyed its meal.

Halfway through humming, it suddenly froze.

Wait.

Did it accidentally… eat the male lead’s golden finger?

That foul smell… wasn’t that exactly the male protagonist’s system?

Ugh! Disgusting!

The system was both disgusted and guilty.

Per system bureau rules, it was forbidden to interfere with the world—especially not with key characters. The villain and male protagonist were destined for a life-and-death struggle; the bureau didn’t care who won. Its job was only to prevent the villain from blackening and endangering society.

Eating the male lead’s golden finger definitely counted as interference.

Feeling guilty, the system hoped desperately that the overseeing bureau wasn’t watching too closely today—that maybe its colleagues were slacking off and wouldn’t notice.

Clinging to this last shred of hope, the system decided to sleep for a while. It reactivated the protective layer on the cub and hid deep within her pure white soul as an invisible ring of light.

Online, news quickly broke about rising star Wei Ming collapsing in a supermarket and being rushed to the hospital.

A small tabloid hinted that Movie Emperor Zhu and his daughter seemed to be there too—suggesting that maybe there was a conflict and that was what triggered Wei Ming’s episode. Who didn’t know the two had a grudge? Strictly speaking, Wei Ming had stepped on Zhu Ji to rise to fame.

Back when the scandal first erupted, one side was labeled “So this is what the movie emperor is really like” (negative), while the other side gained sympathy and popularity.

To the movie emperor’s longtime fans, Wei Ming was a shameless little snake who climbed up by stepping on their idol. To Wei Ming’s fans, the movie emperor was two-faced and bullied their precious little brother. Both sides hated each other’s guts.

The rumor quickly gained attention. The photo attached only showed a tall man carrying a child walking away—you couldn’t see the faces. The figure looked good, but you couldn’t tell if he was Zhu Ji or not.

Both the movie emperor’s fans and the dumpling’s mommy fans attacked the tabloid mercilessly, calling them blind and shameless for writing nonsense based on a blurry photo.

With the fanbase too powerful, the tabloid quickly deleted the post. They were just trying to stir the pot, but offending these fans wasn’t worth the trouble. Seeing them retreat, other marketing accounts didn’t dare join the gossip either, and the whole matter quietly died down.

After all, it was just a young celebrity going to the hospital—not exactly rare. Outside of his own fandom, not many cared.

Right now, the entire internet was focused on Movie Emperor Zhu accidentally revealing on his daughter’s show that he owned a sizable tech company and had released a stunning learning software.

It was a case of “planting willows unintentionally.” If Zhu Ji had openly announced on Weibo that he started a business and released a software, except for his die-hard fans, few would’ve taken him seriously.

A man who spent twelve years acting—even after being forced out of the industry—had secretly founded a tech company?

It was harder to believe than him winning the lottery.

But because this information leaked casually on a variety show, viewers instead felt like they’d uncovered a secret. Driven by curiosity, they downloaded the app to see for themselves. They wanted to know the truth—was the software really that amazing? Was the movie emperor overconfident or genuinely talented?

The download numbers skyrocketed, proving how effective this accidental marketing was. An Yuan, monitoring the backend, was nearly scared to death. Then he saw the trending discussions online—Y2 had gone viral.

From the interactions shown in the program, viewers could tell the software was independently developed by Zhu Ji. Even the impressive-looking director sought his guidance. His calm, effortless expertise stunned countless people.

They had never seen this side of him.

Truthfully, no matter how high someone stands in the entertainment industry, in the public eye, they are never comparable to business or tech elites.

But after this incident, no one would associate Zhu Ji with the old “Buddha-like actor” image anymore. A clear line now separated his past and present. His experience only added to his brilliance. Even if new scandals emerged, people would start to doubt them—how could someone this capable do something disgraceful?

Even though the software hadn’t yet shown its full potential, and not many had truly explored all its features due to time, the initial users were already stunned. Those who intended to delete it after a quick test ended up becoming loyal fans, spreading word of mouth everywhere.

The software’s magic lay in its deep, limitless database—there seemed to be nothing you couldn’t find. And it even had an intelligent learning assistant that created personalized study plans.

After you enter all your basic personal data, the butler automatically generates a diagnostic test. Once you finish it, the butler immediately understands your level with complete clarity and can create a personalized study plan for you. This includes cultivating good, consistent study habits as well as steadily increasing both depth and breadth.

Right now, most netizens haven’t discovered this layer yet. They just think the butler is fun and even like teasing it.

It will seriously remind you when it’s time to study. If you ignore it, your phone keeps buzzing nonstop, and it will even say provoking things like: “Master, you’re this trashy and you still dare not to study? If you won’t work hard, might as well go move bricks for a living.”

If you happened to input the name of your favorite idol during setup, then you’re in trouble.

It will scold you: you’re too lazy to even study—how dare you like your idol? If pushed too far, the butler will imitate your idol’s voice and tone, sounding deeply disappointed while saying all kinds of cutting remarks.

Plenty of people got so irritated they couldn’t bear to uninstall it. They could only study. “It’s just studying anyway, right? No way I’m worse than others! I’m not going to let a data-generated butler look down on me!”

Once they compromised, they fell into the bottomless pit of studying with no way out. And they couldn’t get out anyway—following the intelligent butler’s plan made their efficiency skyrocket. It was like this butler had become sentient, like a real-life tutor who was even more dedicated than an actual tutor.

It adjusted your study plan according to your progress in real time. When you did well, the butler would even drop its aloof attitude and praise you. And honestly—after getting used to being scolded by this annoying-yet-strict butler, getting praised out of nowhere felt like being injected with adrenaline. “It’s just studying—who can’t do that?!”

The entire internet fell into a learning craze. The more people used this software, the more they realized how amazing it was, like discovering hidden treasure. It was a treasure.

Its functions were so numerous and powerful that no so-called study app on the market could compare to Y2. Those other apps even dared to call themselves learning tools? This was the real study software—truly intelligent!

Of course, downloading and using the study app was free. You could search for materials and do questions in the question bank. But the intelligent butler was a paid service.

When it first launched, it offered an introductory price: monthly, quarterly, or yearly plans. Twenty-five yuan per month, seventy per quarter, and 268 per year. Every ID got a one-time 20% discount on its first purchase.

People who weren’t short on money downloaded it and tried one month just out of curiosity—and once they tried it, they couldn’t stop. They even regretted not buying the full-year plan from the start. With the 20% discount, they could’ve saved so much! But one ID per ID card—no repeat registrations.

This led to later users, after seeing how effective the butlers were for people around them, not hesitating at all and going straight for the annual plan.

Y2 Study Master exploded in popularity. Only after returning home did Zhu Ji realize that he had become popular purely because of his daughter’s show.

Yang Bingbing, with his sharp tongue, even called to tease him: “Brother Ji, you’re not great at being a person, but your luck is amazing. You got such a great daughter. No matter what you do, you can freeload off her and succeed!”

“Our little Yinyin really works so hard. Whether intentionally or not, she’s always boosting you, this bronze-level dad…”

“And I’ll say it again—I’m now Little Yinyin’s second dad! She agreed to recognize me as her godfather! Hahahaha!”

Zhu Ji: “…Get lost.”

Truly good things don’t start strong and then decline—they get better with every test they withstand. The more surprises they contain, the more popular they become. In just one week, Y2 swept across the entire internet.

That summer, the student population, who should’ve been enjoying their vacation, found themselves living miserably. Over half of the viewers of the program were Yinyin’s “mom fans.” To support their darling’s father and give Yinyin a better life, they decisively downloaded the app, registered accounts using their children’s ID cards, purchased the butler, and then tossed the phone back to the kids: “Use it.”

Parents who initially didn’t download it, after hearing about it from friends and relatives, panicked when they heard that other people’s children were studying while their own were still playing. How could they tolerate that? When school starts again, wouldn’t their kids fall behind?

Chinese parents have always been persistent and unwavering when it comes to education. If other children have tutoring classes, theirs must too. If other children have study apps, theirs must as well. If you don’t, you’ll fall behind!

At first, students were miserable and unwilling. Especially those naturally averse to studying—those “study slobs” wished school would start immediately. Anything was better than being drafted into this daily home-study war, forced to sit with the app all day. But over time, they gradually found enjoyment in studying and gained a sense of accomplishment.

Many so-called study-slackers aren’t truly heartless. They simply fell behind in a certain period due to various reasons. After that, they couldn’t understand lessons even when listening carefully, falling further behind. Add in scolding from teachers and parents, and they gave up completely, spiraling downward.

Teachers won’t stop the curriculum for one student, but this software’s butler is yours alone. It customizes everything for your situation. Weak foundation? No problem—start from the beginning. Don’t know where to start? Also fine—it plans it step by step: what to study today, what to study tomorrow, until you truly grasp it.

This continued until September when school started. Students were shocked that the first thing teachers did at the start of the term was recommend this software—and strongly encourage its use.

Especially among senior-year students preparing for the college entrance exam, the homeroom teacher—who had led graduating classes for many years—stood on the podium passionately recommending it.

He was brutally straightforward: “At this stage, we teachers already know which students have hope and which don’t.”

“In Grade 10 and 11, teachers still try to save struggling students. But by senior year, we simply don’t have the energy. We must focus on those with potential.”

These words made struggling students blush. But thinking about it, it was true. In earlier years, teachers were strict and constantly pushing them. Now? Teachers barely paid attention to them at all.

It wasn’t something you could blame teachers for. Unless you’re a genius, if you wasted the early years and didn’t build a foundation, how could you catch up easily?

Then the balding homeroom teacher changed tone and smiled: “But now, this software can help you. What teachers can’t do, this software just might. If you really want to improve and get into a good university, give it a try.”

With the teacher passionately recommending it like a salesperson, students couldn’t resist. He said he had tested it himself. With his twenty years of teaching experience, the app could help students tremendously—more effective than private tutors.

With teachers backing it, Y2 spread from a few users to nearly all students. It became impossible not to install it. When you see classmates who were once worse than you suddenly improving dramatically, how could you stay calm?

Struggling students saw hope. After using it for a while and seeing huge jumps in exam scores, they treated the app like a life-saving miracle.

To them, being able to catch up, not fear tests, and be praised by teachers and parents felt euphoric—better than drugs.

Some even jokingly called their butlers “husband” or “wife” and kissed their phones daily—utterly shameless.

As the founder, Zhu Ji was no longer the once universally hated actor forced out of the entertainment circle. He was called the “Godfather of Learning,” worshipped by students and deeply appreciated by parents.

Yes, the butler cost money—but a few hundred yuan a year? A single tutoring session cost that much. And the butler was far more effective than a tutor.

With the butler, kids no longer needed parents to nag. At first, the butler constantly monitored them, but over time they developed good habits and could no longer escape the study pit.

Zhu Ji’s Weibo followers exceeded one hundred million. In the same year, his company went public with a valuation in the billions. The next year, when the Y2 Learning Device launched, the company transitioned into a hybrid digital–physical model.

Not only software and study machines—later, Y2 developed its own mobile operating system, the first domestic smart OS, with performance on par with major global brands.

Y2 grew rapidly. Its flagship learning software became popular nationwide and overseas. Membership fees alone brought in massive revenue annually. Add to that the learning devices, smartphones, and domestic manufacturers buying the OS, and the company made other tech firms burn with envy.

Take the boss who bought game rights from Zhu Ji early on—their company was a gaming giant earning billions yearly. After purchasing the software, they did earn the projected ten billion yuan.

But who could’ve predicted Zhu Ji would take that money, start a business quietly, and within three years surpass every tech company in the country?

That boss had once been proud of his “eye for talent,” but now? He felt terrible. Zhu Ji had essentially sold a single software project, built an empire, and become a billionaire in USD—stronger than anything the boss had achieved in a lifetime.

Yet resentment did nothing. He could only swallow his pride, respectfully address Zhu Ji as “President Zhu,” and hope for future scraps.

When the new Rich List was released, people speculated that “Daddy Zhu” would take first place.

“Who else but Daddy Zhu deserves the throne of richest man?”

“As a loyal son who contributes to Daddy Zhu every year—my phone, my butler-wife, everything is from Daddy Zhu—I congratulate Daddy Zhu in advance!”

“When that garbage Wei Ming framed him and forced him out of the entertainment circle, Daddy Zhu still proved he’s our daddy. He started his own business and became a boss! That trash Wei Ming can’t compare!”

“Don’t bring up that scumbag. He faked videos, hired trolls, tried to harm the little princess—Heaven itself couldn’t bear it and sent him to the hospital. Evil meets retribution!”

After Wei Ming was hospitalized, his “system” vanished. Everything the system manipulated was exposed.

The system’s tricks were illusions created with luck energy. Once it disappeared, the luck returned to its rightful owner, and everything reverted.

The falsified videos reverted overnight. Netizens were shocked to see that the “ironclad evidence” that once smeared the actor no longer matched what they remembered. The actor had never been two-faced. He was innocent all along.

They spread the news, washed away his last stain, and furiously cursed the mastermind behind it.

At that point, no one knew who the mastermind was. They believed some righteous hacker had restored the files, giving the actor delayed justice.

People who had cursed or misunderstood the actor lined up to apologize in his comments. Those too embarrassed quietly went to attack the “unknown culprit,” including Wei Ming, who had benefited from the framing.

They insulted Wei Ming, calling him a giant white lotus. Since he knew the video was fake, why didn’t he testify earlier? Why accept everyone’s sympathy and step on the actor to rise? Shameless!

At this point, they still didn’t know the real culprit was Wei Ming himself. They went too far, and some bystanders told them to calm down, saying Wei Ming wasn’t obligated to get involved.

But when luck runs out, everything collapses.

The head of a troll farm, for unknown reasons, released audio recordings of Wei Ming hiring him.

He had long suspected Wei Ming and probed repeatedly until confirming it. After gaining the system, Wei Ming had become overconfident, thinking that deleting chat logs erased all traces. But the troll boss was an old fox who always recorded calls.

The restored audio clearly matched Wei Ming’s voice.

If that wasn’t enough, later an unknown “good samaritan” hacked into Wei Ming’s computer and dug up more damning evidence.

At the same time, Zhu Ji issued a lawyer’s letter and formally sued for privacy invasion, defamation, and more.

The actor was serious. Wei Ming, still in the hospital, hadn’t processed the disappearance of the system or what had happened. Before he recovered, he received a court summons and was approached by police. People he had harmed in the past stepped forward one by one to testify. The entire internet erupted.

No one imagined that this soft-looking, gentle “boy-next-door” with rosy lips and white teeth was such a vicious, ruthless person. His malice exceeded imagination and chilled people to the bone.

He was torn apart by netizens—every ancestor questioned, every future generation cursed.

For years afterward, the mere mention of his name made people recoil. No one wanted to bring him up again. He wasn’t worthy of being mentioned alongside Daddy Zhu.

After losing the lawsuit, Wei Ming was arrested. He remained imprisoned to this day. One of his victims, a fellow trainee who now relied on a wheelchair, had been pushed down a staircase by Wei Ming years ago out of jealousy. The boy became a vegetative patient before miraculously waking up later. His legs couldn’t be healed, but with his family’s support, he gathered evidence and sent Wei Ming to jail.

Netizens reminisced, mocked him one more time, then returned to the main topic.

Y2’s development over the years was obvious to all. Most believed this year, Daddy Zhu would take the crown of richest man. Y2’s assets were unimaginable, its stock ranked among the most valuable globally.

The college friends who started the company with him, even those with few original shares, all became billionaires—envied by everyone.

But when the Hurun list came out, people checked the top names and were stunned to find—not Zhu Ji, but Zhu Yinyin.

Netizens: ???!!!

Who is Zhu Yinyin?

The daughter of Daddy Zhu—once more popular than her father before he even started his business. The nation’s little sweetheart. The beloved baby of countless “mom fans.”

Her fame was even greater now. Every day, someone would go to Zhu Ji’s Weibo to “claim her” as their daughter-in-law.

Naturally, everyone wondered: If there was a richest man to be crowned, shouldn’t it be the father? How did it become the daughter?

Y2’s official account later published the shareholder equity chart—revealing that Little Yinyin held even more shares than her father.

Zhu Ji rarely posted but made an exception, attaching the investment records from back then, adding: “Y2 was invested by my daughter.”

Netizens: “…”

#The Youngest Billionaire in History

#Let’s Talk About the Baby Girl Standing at the Top of the Wealth Chain

#Daddy Zhu, Are You Still Accepting Daughters?#

These topics dominated the annual trending list. Due to share distribution, little Zhu Yinyin became the youngest billionaire in the world—famous worldwide.

Just as she had innocently said when she was very young: “Daddy is amazing. He will take me to become a big boss!”

Neither father nor daughter ever broke that promise to each other.