Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 20

The agent looked at Lin Yuebai and Qin Jue returning to the film set with an indescribable expression.

Zhuang Lan: “Where have you two been behind my back?”

Zhuang Lan always remembered that Qin Jue was her superior, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed by this boss who was simply too troublesome.

Wanting to take advantage of Lin Yuebai, delaying the film crew’s work, taking her out for meals, and even posting photos on Lin Yuebai’s Weibo without her knowledge.

Qin Jue: “I’ll give you a bonus at the end of the month.”

Zhuang Lan’s lips twitched, but in the end, she didn’t refuse. She gave a pained glance at Lin Yuebai, who was wearing a black cheongsam. “By the way, that milk tea endorsement I mentioned to you before…”

Zhuang Lan had originally secured a deal for Lin Yuebai with a currently trending milk tea chain, but someone else snatched it midway, and the matter still hadn’t been resolved.

Lin Yuebai only had one notable work to her name. Even when she debuted as part of a girl group, she remained lukewarm in popularity. Now, there were quite a few criticisms about her online.

Mostly, people said she didn’t deserve her position and called her a drama queen. Some even suggested that if she was in poor health, she should retire from the industry to recuperate.

Lin Yuebai shook her head silently. “Don’t worry, sis. Endorsements will come.”

Lin Yuebai’s fans were mostly young women and students—the very demographic most likely to purchase milk tea.

Zhuang Lan’s gaze turned complicated as it landed on Qin Jue, who was drinking milk tea not far away. “You’ve got it rough too, huh?”

With the film crew busy, Qin Jue spent the morning making decisions before moving on to other matters.

She had invested in two tech companies. One, which started with small household appliances, now provided OEM services for several major international brands. Though their technology was solid, they lacked their own brand and could only earn meager profits from manufacturing. Still, their international business was thriving.

The other was an emerging headphone brand founded by a team of university friends who had formed a club together. Though less famous than mainstream brands, their products were high-quality—just lacking in marketing, which kept sales underwhelming.

Qin Jue had no intention of putting all her eggs in the entertainment industry basket. As a wealthy heiress, most of her resources came from her parents. But she hadn’t forgotten that her late mother’s legacy was constantly coveted by her father and his illegitimate child.

Qin Jue had her secretary pull over so she could buy a cup of milk tea from a roadside shop. This brand mostly operated in downtown areas, relying less on advertising since the prime locations themselves served as the best promotion.

After queuing for 20 minutes, she finally got her hands on a cup—jasmine tea with fresh milk and a touch of coconut jelly. The flavor was refreshing, not overly sweet, with the distinct floral aroma of jasmine tea and a slight bitterness from the leaves. It was the brand’s latest hit product.

Its name? Moonlight Jasmine.

It was just an endorsement deal. With a few connections and a word from Qin Jue, it was quickly settled.

Yawning as she sipped her milk tea, Qin Jue was unlike the typical domineering CEO. She didn’t smoke, had no taste for bitter Americanos, and lacked any strange masochistic preference for hard liquor. She had a sweet tooth.

The system tried to align its glowing orb with the straw, only to be swatted away by Qin Jue.

Later, she met with the CEO of the small appliance company. The dinner lasted until evening. The other party was a shrewd, capable woman in her 50s, with faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

“Building a brand isn’t easy. Without President Qin’s help, I might never have found the resolve to do it.”

Qin Jue smiled and shook hands with the other party. “You flatter me. As long as the product is sincere enough, I believe there will always be buyers.”

For example, finding a qualified spokesperson—but that was a matter for later.

Li Shilai’s gaze at Qin Jue was complicated. The woman appeared to be around 25, young yet remarkably poised in speech and demeanor. She could even calculate the gross margin and actual profit of each product with just a few taps on a calculator, as if every cost involved held no secrets from her.

This was almost a completely different person from the rumored good-for-nothing, party-loving, girlfriend-chasing lesbian heiress the industry gossiped about.

“I’ve arranged a hotel for President Qin. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“No need.” Qin Jue glanced at the mechanical watch on her left wrist, its blue dial shimmering faintly in the darkness—an oddly cerebral kind of sensuality against her skin.

“I have plans tonight.”

The system hadn’t dared to interrupt during Qin Jue’s business negotiations.

There was something uniquely compelling about the host when she was focused on work, making the system briefly question whether someone so charismatic should really be playing the role of a villain who took pleasure in tormenting the protagonist.

The doubt lasted only half a second. After all, the system was just a system, bound to follow the original plot.

Her secretary opened the car door, and Qin Jue slid into the backseat. As the taste of alcohol faded from her mouth, it left behind the subtle fragrance of jasmine tea.

Moonlight Jasmine—perfectly suited for Lin Yuebai.

Qin Jue’s red-soled heels clicked against the hotel’s marble floor as she held a golden keycard between her fingers.

Lin Yuebai should have been asleep by now, yet the system was still assigning tasks.

Rubbing her throbbing temples, Qin Jue considered her tolerance. She could hold her liquor well—perhaps the evening breeze had rushed the alcohol to her head, leaving her less than clear-minded now.

System: “In the original story, there’s a scene where the drunk villain discovers the protagonist has been framed and placed in her room. The villain takes malicious pleasure in humiliating the bewildered protagonist, forcing her to dress and undress her, even stepping on her shoulders while scolding her for poor service.”

Qin Jue: “Lin Yuebai isn’t in my room right now.”

System: “System detection confirms Lin Yuebai is currently in your room.”

Though not framed this time, the outcome was the same. The system was a simple program that only recognized results.

As long as every step aligned, the final outcome wouldn’t deviate.

Her mind foggy, Qin Jue had asked her secretary to buy another Moonlight Jasmine tea on the way back—the last cup from the shop before closing.

Pure white coconut jelly swirled in the cup, ice cubes clinking musically.

When Qin Jue opened the door, her eyes met the beautiful girl on the white sheets.

Lin Yuebai’s robe had slipped halfway off one shoulder with her movement.

Taking a sip of tea, Qin Jue set the cup on the side table. “Why are you here?”

She muted the system’s frantic narrative reminders in her mind.

She kicked off her high heels and slipped into the hotel slippers, only to see the delicate beauty on the bed bend down to pick up her red-soled heels and place them neatly on the shoe rack.

Lin Yuebai’s voice was husky as she knelt on the floor. “You said you’d drag me to the guest room to… serve you. That you’d do it multiple times. My agent said you secured an endorsement deal for me…”

The agent had also told her to be proactive—that taking initiative would mean less suffering.

So Lin Yuebai came willingly, yet Qin Jue never arrived.

Instead, Qin Jue now held a card in her hand—a bank card.

Lin Yuebai kept her head down, her long hair obscuring her expression. Only her faint, trembling voice could be heard.

“The production team paid me. It’s not much, but please take it… consider it drinking money.”

The girl who had been diligent and professional on set, who played strong-willed characters with sharp precision, now sounded fragile and afraid.

She didn’t want this. But Lin Yuebai knew she had to play the game.

Qin Jue was stunned. Even before her transmigration, her parents had rarely given her money. After starting her own business, she was the one handing out payments. And now this girl wanted to… support her?

What kind of logic was that? Getting bullied yet offering money willingly?

Was she stupid?

“I don’t know how to do anything… Please teach me.”

Wrapped in a bathrobe, Lin Yuebai reached out to undo Qin Jue’s clothes.