Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 18

The system strategized in Qin Jue’s mind while she focused entirely on the account book in her hands.

Having studied finance before transmigrating into the novel, Qin Jue could spot discrepancies in the accounts at a glance.

After experiencing partners fleeing, cashing out and fleeing, and digging pitfalls before fleeing, her understanding of business surpassed that of many.

A casual flip through the pages revealed issues with the crew’s expenses.

The system, taking the form of a glowing orb, hovered beside its host, attempting to sneak a bite of her evening dessert—a small cake—only to be blocked.

Qin Jue scooped a bite of cheesecake into her mouth.

“Look at the staff section. From what I know, only 43 extras were hired for the scenes filmed recently, but the accounts list 65.”

“Then there’s the venue rental issue. The sets we’ve been using were sponsored for free by a company—two floors of space—yet the accounts claim a daily rental fee of 6,700 yuan, covering dressing rooms, makeup areas, and more. But the discrepancies are obvious; inflated costs are being pocketed. And…”

The system didn’t quite understand, but it was impressed—its host truly lived up to being a proper villain.

Sensing the system’s confusion, Qin Jue spent most of the following days on set, staring at a very basic boxed meal.

Lin Yuebai ate her lunch backstage, accompanied only by an assistant and a manager—far less extravagant than other stars.

The meal consisted of two meat dishes (a chicken drumstick and shredded pork in garlic sauce) and two vegetable dishes (stir-fried cabbage and lotus white).

Lin Yuebai nibbled on greens while flipping through her script, the little weight she’d managed to gain now completely shed.

Zhuang Lan: “Hold still—I’ll snap a photo for Weibo.”

Lin Yuebai lifted her head. “Let me fix my hair first.”

Zhuang Lan shook her head. “No need. The way your hair frames your face looks natural and pretty.”

Naturally, Qin Jue didn’t eat the same food as the actors. An untouched boxed meal sat before her—she wouldn’t deign to eat such fare.

Her secretary had already arranged lunch from a Michelin-starred restaurant: sous-vide Wagyu beef with onions, bell peppers, and cheese. Pressing her fork lightly released a trickle of juices.

After a few bites, she noticed the system eyeing the meal eagerly. Seizing the moment when no one was paying attention, the system gulped down the remaining half of the beef.

Caught red-handed, it zipped back into Qin Jue’s mind.

“You hesitated with your fork—I thought you didn’t want it, so I finished it off… burp.”

The electronic voice sounded guilty. “Wasting food is bad. You might be a villain, but I’m not.”

Its voice grew smaller until it flattened into a puddle of shame.

Qin Jue found the system both silly and gluttonous—like a child.

Finishing the rest of her meal, she wiped her mouth and turned her gaze to the production coordinator nearby.

The coordinator handled daily necessities, living arrangements, transportation, and some logistical tasks for the crew.

The production coordinator’s face lit up with a smile when he saw Qin Jue approaching, abruptly shifting from his previously stern phone-scrolling expression. “Director Qin.”

Qin Jue’s gaze swept over the empty lunchbox containers. She noticed some background actors discreetly taking extra portions because one box wasn’t enough to fill them up.

While taking extra lunches wasn’t encouraged on set, what angered her more was seeing how even the rice portions weren’t filled properly—let alone the meager vegetable servings.

“The accounts show each lunchbox costs 30 yuan, with over 300 purchased daily. Correct?”

The coordinator’s eyes darted nervously as he nodded. Qin Jue continued questioning him about catering and venue rentals, his face growing paler with each inquiry.

Budget padding and kickbacks were common in every production, but as the investor, Qin Jue refused to tolerate wasteful spending.

She opened a lunchbox before the coordinator. Inside the cabbage lay a thoroughly cooked green caterpillar, conspicuously visible among the wilted leaves.

Her secretary gasped behind her. “This wouldn’t happen if they’d even rinsed the vegetables! And look—these leaves clearly weren’t even trimmed.”

“Don’t think Director Qin doesn’t know the actual prices. Six yuan per box would be generous. The supplier’s your relative, isn’t he?”

The coordinator turned ghostly pale. While he’d assumed no one would care about the background actors’ meals—since leads always ordered separate catering—he never expected Qin Jue would actually inspect the food, let alone find such glaring evidence.

As he stammered for excuses, Qin Jue waved him off. “My secretary and legal team will handle this matter.”

Meanwhile, Zhuang Lan remained oblivious to the drama unfolding across set. After posting Lin Yuebai’s photo on Weibo and skimming the comments, she put her phone away.

@LinYuebai: [photo]

“Eat more, sis! Our chickens eat more than this… My mom would scold me for eating so little QAQ”

“I know our Yueyue watches her figure, but this is way too light!”

“The manager’s got great timing—Lin Yuebai holding chopsticks in one hand and balancing her lunchbox in the other, giving the camera this confused look like ‘why are you filming this?’ lol”

“The neck injury’s gone, and so is my happiness.”

“Was it because that friend kept diligently applying medicine for Lin Yuebai every day?”

“LMAO why stan this drama queen? She vomits after fried chicken but can stomach this slop?”

“Who let this anti in? Xinghe Entertainment already clarified Yuebai has digestive issues. Get over it already!”

Qin Jue browsed Lin Yuebai’s feed, using her burner account to like, comment, and repost.

MoonlightShinesOnMe: So light on food, my heart aches (cat clutching chest emoji)

The system screeched when it saw Qin Jue create the alt account:

“This violates villain protocol!! Delete it now!!”

Qin Jue countered, “Wouldn’t the protagonist feel even more disgusted and humiliated knowing I’m secretly observing her life through a fake account?”

Having thoroughly grasped the system’s judgment logic, Qin Jue wasn’t surprised when her explanation immediately softened its shrill protests.

“You’re right, host. When the protagonist discovers your identity later, they’ll definitely think you’re a pervert, hehehe.”

Qin Jue hesitated, finding the system’s laughter rather foolish.

She watched as the production manager took a few calls before hurriedly trying to leave, only to be stopped by the security guard at the door. But she didn’t pay much attention. Instead, she swaggered over to Lin Yuebai, who was crouched on a small stool eating a boxed lunch while reading the script.

A shadow fell over Lin Yuebai, and she looked up in confusion, meeting a pair of cold, condescending eyes.

Under the system’s supervision, Qin Jue nudged the half-eaten meal with the tip of her shoe, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “My big star is eating this kind of garbage? How pathetic.”

Her actions were rude and arrogant.

Lin Yuebai: “Everyone in the crew eats—”

She couldn’t quite grasp Qin Jue’s attitude and set the meal aside. Back when she was a trainee at her agency, the food had been even worse. Her old manager had strictly controlled her weight—sometimes she’d only get a salad or half a cucumber for the entire day.

Having rice and vegetables now was already an improvement.

Qin Jue remained silent.

Lin Yuebai’s heart skipped a beat. Testing the waters, she said, “The food really is bland. Could you take me somewhere nice to eat? I’d love to take some pretty photos.”

Slowly, she was figuring out Qin Jue’s temperament. She reached out and tugged lightly at the hem of Qin Jue’s clothes.

“Please?”