Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 28

The elderly woman in an apron stiffened immediately upon seeing someone at the door and hearing Qin Jue explain that she was Lin Yuebai’s boss.

Perhaps Qin Jue’s previous attitude hadn’t been the friendliest, and her oppressive aura had sent chills down Tao Qiao’s spine. But at the sight of the dazzling black car parked outside and the curious gazes of the neighbors, Tao Qiao ultimately lowered her head and invited the visitor in.

Arriving empty-handed just before the New Year, Qin Jue stood at the doorway while a few people whispered among themselves.

“That’s the boss of that family’s girl.”
“Wow, that car must be worth a fortune.”
“I don’t recognize it, but even the coal boss at the village entrance doesn’t have a car that nice. What do these rich people even do? How do they make so much money?”
“That girl’s really lucky. I heard her shop’s making big money now—her boss must be raking it in even more.”
“Wonder if the boss is married, being so young and all?”

The murmurs drifted from the doorway. Qin Jue’s gaze swept past them lightly before locking eyes with a boy in the yard, who was tossing firecrackers into a flock of chickens and ducks.

The boy, not yet an adult, wore a brand-new down jacket and oversized sneakers. Qin Jue wasn’t well-versed in sportswear, but the design and brand alone made it clear they weren’t cheap—though the garish colors were a bit eye-searing.

Noticing Qin Jue’s stare, the boy lifted his chin, as if expecting praise for his shoes.

The system let out a cackling laugh.

Qin Jue: “What’s so funny?”
System: “I’m laughing at this dumb kid’s name—Lin Youzong. While others have names like ‘Bringing Glory to Ancestors,’ his is ‘Praying for Ancestors’—completely backwards, hahaha!”

The system vibrated with laughter, a shimmering orb trembling inside Qin Jue’s mind.

Qin Jue smirked imperceptibly. “…”
“Have some decency with your words.”
“We electronic systems don’t accumulate cyber karma.”
Qin Jue: “.”

“Please, have a seat.”

Tao Qiao ushered her inside, glancing anxiously at her son still playing in the yard. As his mother, she knew Lin Youzong’s temperament—seeing such an impressive car, he’d inevitably want to touch and inspect it.

A flicker of worry crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it, trusting her well-behaved son to know his limits. Shaking her head, she turned to Qin Jue in confusion.

Tao Qiao couldn’t fathom why this wealthy boss had driven all the way here. What in her household could possibly concern her?

Had it been Lin Yuebai standing there, Tao Qiao would’ve already started ordering her around. But no matter how much temper she had, she couldn’t help feeling intimidated in Qin Jue’s presence.

Humans instinctively avoid and fear danger.

The interior of the house wasn’t well-kept, suggesting neither occupant was particularly diligent. Tao Qiao wore two gold bracelets, and there were some high-end cosmetics scattered about, but the floor was littered with cigarette butts and melon seed shells—proof the family wasn’t adept at managing their lives.

An older man sat inside, smoking, his yellowed teeth gripping the cigarette as his eyes roamed over Qin Jue’s figure.

He said nothing.

Qin Jue perched on the edge of the sofa—not out of politeness, but because she found it dirty.

Qin Jue: “I’m here to collect what Yuebai left behind.”

Tao Qiao’s expression shifted unpredictably, her face cycling through various emotions. “What do you want to take?”

Qin Jue replied, “The household register, birth certificate, and all her academic records, test papers, and certificates of merit from childhood onward.”

The black car keys were casually placed on the coffee table. Qin Jue didn’t move, a cup of hot tea set before her—though she clearly disdained such low-quality leaves.

Tao Qiao instantly jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, shouting guiltily, “No way, absolutely not! Why would you need her household register? Did Lin Yuebai send you here?”

Qin Jue merely smiled without answering.

The system timidly spoke up in her mind, “Host, did you forget something?”

“You’re supposed to wait until the protagonist’s parents accuse her of being your kept woman, making her so humiliated and furious that she resents you deeply. Then comes the ‘thirty years east of the river, thirty years west’ revenge arc where—”

Qin Jue cut it off: “Enough, I get it.”

Where did the system even dig up that data package?

Qin Jue sat with regal poise, her back straight and tall figure making the shabby room seem brighter just by her presence. A slant of sunlight fell across her face, momentarily illuminating her dark pupils with a golden glow.

The atmosphere in the room grew tense in an instant, yet Qin Jue appeared completely unfazed.

“You must be joking. It’s just that our company offers exceptional benefits—we purchase apartments for senior employees, that’s all.”

Tao Qiao’s previously taut nerves relaxed slightly.

An apartment in the capital!

Good heavens.

Even the old man, who had been silently chewing on a cigarette butt, let out a small sigh. “Really?”

What would a young girl need with a house? It would end up being her son’s anyway.

A thousand thoughts raced through Tao Qiao’s mind, but before she could say more, her husband was already urging her to hurry and fetch the household register and all the documents Qin Jue wanted.

As for Lin Yuebai’s old homework books and certificates, Qin Jue could easily explain those away as being needed for entertainment industry publicity.

Yellowed, brittle papers were piled on the floor. Qin Jue stepped on the edges with her boots, causing several fingernail-sized cockroaches to scurry out.

The system in Qin Jue’s mind let out a piercing scream!!!

“AHHHHH—AAAAAH!”

Qin Jue’s ears rang. “Is this your new way of punishing me?”

The system wailed hysterically, a small ball of light bouncing wildly in Qin Jue’s mind until its fluffy form became streaked, as if dampened by tears.

Useless little thing.

Tao Qiao pulled Qin Jue aside to inquire about Lin Yuebai’s acting fees. “Ah, that child is so unfilial—stubborn and foolish too. As her boss, you must discipline her properly. If she doesn’t listen, just beat her.”

Qin Jue flipped through a senior high school exercise book while wearing gloves. The grades were excellent, with over 98% accuracy.

Lin Yuebai had taken the college entrance exams, been admitted to university, then taken a leave of absence.

She’d scored well—getting into the Capital Film Academy.

Her handwriting was also beautiful—elegant and refined, as if she’d specially practiced semi-cursive script.

Tao Qiao finally got to the point, rambling, “By the way, Boss Qin, that Lin Yuebai is prone to wasting money. As her parents, we’re terribly worried she’ll squander it all outside. Why don’t you give us her bank card? We’ll keep it safe for her as her parents.”

Qin Jue’s hand paused mid-page turn. Her gaze darkened as she looked up, meeting turbid eyes filled with greed.

Tao Qiao scratched her face and said frankly, “To be honest, Lin Yuebai still owes her younger brother over 500,000 yuan. She spent a fortune on training camps growing up, squandering the down payment for her brother’s city apartment. Now he can’t even find a wife.”

The room was thick with cigarette smoke. Qin Jue disliked the smell of tobacco, her expression colder than usual, making her even more intimidating.

When she wasn’t smiling, the sharpness and chill of a businesswoman were on full display.

The chasm between people widened instantly, making others afraid to take even half a step forward.

Firecrackers crackled in the courtyard. Qin Jue glanced briefly at the two people in the room—her goal for today had already been achieved. She only needed to go through the motions for the system’s task.

“You must be joking. All of Lin Yuebai’s acting fees exist solely because of my influence—including her very ownership. If she doesn’t know her place, I’ll discipline her myself. No need for you two to worry.”

The woman’s voice was as cold as shards of ice.

The next moment, an explosion sounded outside the window, followed by the crackling of firecrackers.

The flames outside flickered fiercely.

System: “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

Qin Jue: “…”

Without waiting for her choice, the system continued, “The good news is you’ve completed the mission. The bad news is your car just got blown up.”

Qin Jue placed Lin Yuebai’s documents into a kraft paper envelope. As she bent down, she noticed Lin Yuebai’s old homework and certificates—Tao Qiao had only managed to dig up a small portion. Most had long been sold as scrap.

Fortunately, the exam papers from the second semester of senior year had been kept, useful as kindling for fires later.

The black sedan had been ignited by firecrackers. Lin Youzong clutched a firecracker in one hand and a lighter in the other, shrieking:

“It wasn’t on purpose, Mom! I didn’t mean to! I—I don’t know anything! The car just exploded on its own!”

Qin Jue’s eyebrows arched sharply. The original owner of this body was filthy rich—there was no shortage of luxury cars in the garage.

Just because she didn’t care didn’t mean the car was worthless.

The flames reflected in Qin Jue’s eyes. Tao Qiao rolled up her sleeves, ready to beat her son, but she didn’t dare hit him too hard, afraid of actually hurting him. Yet, the thought of the car’s price made her heart lurch in shock.

Watching this farce, Qin Jue couldn’t help but feel amused. She called the police first, then dialed the insurance company.

Qin Jue: “This car is worth well over 500,000 yuan. Given the damage, compensation starts at a minimum of one million.”

Tao Qiao swayed slightly, as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning. Her eyes, always brimming with schemes and greed, widened instantly. Her murky pupils stared in disbelief at the burning car.

“How… how is that possible? How can a car be that expensive?”

The muttered words spilled from her trembling lips. She wanted to say more, but her throat suddenly clogged with the metallic taste of bl00d, leaving only incoherent sounds.

Amid the crackling blaze, Qin Jue’s voice rang out with chilling clarity:

“There’s no proof of Lin Yuebai owing you any money.”

Tao Qiao’s hands clutched her son’s clothes desperately. Lin Youzong, too, was terrified by the scene, screaming as he tried to flee.

“But don’t worry. The car is insured. The insurance company will cover it, and the traffic police will be here soon.”

Tao Qiao’s expression softened a bit. Seeing her husband about to rush out, she instinctively wanted to share the good news.

Yes, yes, the insurance company would cover it. Their precious son wouldn’t have to pay a single cent.

Rich people always buy tons of insurance for their cars—that must be it, yes, that must be it.

It was as if she had grabbed onto a lifeline when police sirens began wailing in her ears.

Qin Jue said, “Insurance companies have specialized departments to handle court matters. Professional work should be left to professionals.”

Lin Yuebai doesn’t owe you money, but now you owe me—

Those words instantly filled Tao Qiao’s face with terror. She didn’t even notice when her son slipped from her grasp. Murky tears streamed from her eyes—that was her son, the child she’d struggled so hard to bear. How could her son possibly be at fault?

How could her son possibly be at fault? He was just a bit mischievous. Why should he have to pay compensation?

…

When Lin Yuebai learned that Qin Jue had gone to her home, she was in the middle of an acting class. Her manager was peeking nervously at the door.

The manager knew the instructor had extremely high standards. Students either arrived bearing expensive gifts or came through unattainably powerful connections—and still brought expensive gifts.

Zhuang Lan had been worrying endlessly whether the gifts she’d prepared for Lin Yuebai would meet the instructor’s approval. Yet when the teacher heard it was through President Qin’s connections, she immediately welcomed Lin Yuebai in.

The instructor’s villa, located in a quiet oasis within the bustling city center, remained peaceful even during the noisy Spring Festival fireworks.

Lin Yuebai’s foundation was average, but her emotional comprehension far exceeded ordinary people’s. With just slight guidance from the teacher, she achieved impressive results.

After class, Lin Yuebai bowed before leaving. The silver-haired instructor handed her an exquisite teapot before she departed: “I’ve heard President Qin enjoys tea. Would you mind delivering this for me, Yuebai?”

A small brocade box containing the teapot now rested in Lin Yuebai’s hands.

Zhuang Lan wore a complicated expression. She’d been kicking pebbles outside and hurried over when Lin Yuebai emerged.

“Did the teacher like you? Was she harsh? Did she scold you?”

Lin Yuebai shook her head to indicate everything was fine, gazing down at the weighty box in her hands. Even the container alone was made of authentic Shu brocade.

“The teacher treated me very well. President Qin has also been very good to me.”

This was what it felt like to be among the elite. While others scrambled for connections just to meet the instructor, she had been politely invited in for lessons. Even when she misunderstood something, the teacher never showed displeasure.

Lin Yuebai’s phone pinged. Opening the chat, she saw the instructor had sent her information about a supporting role audition.

“Mention my name, and the director will arrange a good part for you. You’re very talented—keep it up.”

The slight curve of Lin Yuebai’s lips lifted further, contrasting sharply with her manager’s grim expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“…The bad news.”

Lin Yuebai’s life had contained too much bad news already. She’d grown numb to it—unless it concerned her future or Qin Jue, nothing truly qualified as bad news anymore.

Zhuang Lan spoke with mixed emotions: “President Qin’s assistant told me someone set fire to her car.”

Lin Yuebai’s fingers trembled imperceptibly, nearly dropping the gift box she was holding.

“What did you say?”

Standing on the quiet path of the villa district, her breathing became shaky and cold.

“How could anyone have the audacity to burn President Qin’s car?”

“It was your younger brother.”

Lin Yuebai’s already pale face turned even more ashen, her lips instantly losing color. Clad in a fluffy white coat, her delicate face appeared even paler than the white fur surrounding it.

“What did you just say!”

Zhuang Lan shrugged. “The insurance estimates repair costs between 1.5 to 3 million yuan, but that’s not your concern. Just focus on keeping President Qin happy. I heard that car was the first one she bought after coming of age—she’s always been particularly fond of it.”

The manager’s words carried veiled warnings—keep President Qin pleased, or the opportunities in hand might disappear.

Lin Yuebai’s heart pounded violently, a chill spreading from her toes to her fingertips.

A cold wind rustled through barren branches, sending dead leaves fluttering down. One landed right before her.

The crisp crunch of her stiletto crushing the leaf echoed sharply.

“I understand. I’ll be sensible.”

Zhuang Lan sighed repeatedly, cursing Lin Yuebai’s family background. “Fortunately, President Qin has connections with several media outlets. Don’t worry—no negative news about you will surface.”

Lin Yuebai waited for the good news.

“The good news is that the drama you just finished filming has passed review and will air next month.”

Zhuang Lan stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Workplace Breakthrough follows a realistic office style that aligns with current mainstream tastes—a true female-led empowerment story where newcomers can actually learn useful things. “I’ll buy you more hot searches then.” With no competing new releases during the same period, your traffic is guaranteed. We’ll secure several endorsements too.”

The subtext was clear: the repair costs meant nothing. Zhuang Lan inwardly sighed in relief—thank goodness the brat only torched a million-yuan sedan. Had it been one of Qin Jue’s other collections, even Lin Yuebai couldn’t have compensated.

Trailing behind, Lin Yuebai kept her head lowered, lost in unreadable thoughts.

Countless times she’d wondered—would everything be different if she’d been born into a better family?

Could she have stood beside Qin Jue more effortlessly, without constantly deciphering her moods? Without carefully undressing to share her bed? Might Qin Jue have actually respected her?

By now the thoughts had turned obsessive—did Qin Jue consider her unclean, hence only holding her without further intimacy?

…

“Ding! Detected protagonist’s negative emotions—she must know you secretly visited her home to assert dominance,” chirped the system’s electronic voice.

Qin Jue was busy disinfecting Lin Yuebai’s old homework, test papers, and certificates. Having taken framing classes pre-transmigration, she worked with practiced ease—mounting a “Model Student” award in a frame displayed on the desk.

The system peeked over her shoulder before morphing into a tiny orb that bounced near her calligraphy brush.

“Shoo. I’m starting a livestream—don’t get caught on camera.”

The system proudly puffed out its little chest, declaring how human electronic devices could never capture its image.

Qin Jue remained noncommittal as she turned the camera toward the chaotic mess covering the table.

Welcome to Lin Yuebai’s livestream.

“Alright alright, seriously sis? Why do I keep seeing you? So best friends share a livestream account with Little Moon now?”

“I’m shipping them so hard.”

“Insider info here—Little Moon’s manager has protested multiple times about her best friend going live, but to no avail. Even after changing the password, the best friend just reset it back.”

“Auntie, what are those tattered papers on the table?”

“Is that a framed certificate in the photo frame? Looks faded?”

“Help! I came for Little Moon, not you! Bestie, could you have some self-awareness?”

“If you’re this gorgeous, why not debut as a celebrity? Wouldn’t millions in annual pay sound sweet?”

“Hey upstairs, if you want CEO Qin to go bankrupt just say so. Millions annually? She’d laugh at that hahaha.”

Seated at the desk, Qin Jue wore traditional Chinese outerwear, her left wrist adorned with a filigreed gold bracelet layered above a sandalwood bead bracelet. Her posture exuded relaxed elegance, showing no trace of displeasure despite her beloved car having just been torched.

In fact, she was rather pleased about the car’s destruction—after all, the original owner had used it to pick up countless pretty girls.

With her cleanliness obsession, Qin Jue disliked strangers in her vehicle.

Setting down her calligraphy brush, Qin Jue lifted the heavy photo frame with both hands to display it before the camera.

“Your Little Moon’s ‘Three-Good Student’ certificate. Dug this out from her home—edges were nibbled by mice but it’s sterilized now.”

The faded certificate carried simple charm—pale pinkish-red with still-distinct gold foil patterns, Lin Yuebai’s name printed in bold Song font, the school’s red seal stamped below.

Not stopping at one, Qin Jue produced another frame containing a “National Middle School English Competition” award.

Certificate after certificate dazzled viewers. Qin Jue’s fingers, sheathed in glossy black latex gloves, became an irresistible focal point.

“Are you showcasing awards or your damnable allure?”

“Hands like those look unremarkable… unless you let me test them.”

“Damn, Lin Yuebai’s legit top-tier… Thought she debuted too young to have much schooling.”

“Checked her gaokao scores—absolutely legendary.”

“So bestie went to Little Moon’s place, excavated her childhood homework and awards from junk piles, then brought them home to frame and collect?”

“What profoundly moving friendship.”

“I asked my best friend if she’d do this—she called me a creep.”

Qin Jue’s lips twitched at the “creep” comment. “As a friend, I deeply admire her.”

“Sure sure, the whole world knows you’re her best friend now.”

“Best friends can’t become wives—something something—best friends ARE wives.”

The barrage comments were all joking around as Qin Jue picked up her phone. She carefully placed the two most perfectly framed certificates into a tote bag before driving to Lin Yuebai’s current apartment.

She now held Lin Yuebai’s household registration booklet and could help her transfer her residence registration.

As for helping her find her real parents—that would be work for another day.

Qin Jue didn’t consider this matter urgent. Under her care, Yuebai was living quite well, and Qin Jue was certain her biological parents couldn’t provide the resources she currently enjoyed.

Perhaps because Qin Jue herself didn’t have deep feelings for her parents, she projected this onto others, believing that family bonds weren’t necessarily life’s most important ties—that as long as one became capable, many problems would resolve themselves.

The live-stream camera focused on the dark door of Lin Yuebai’s apartment. Qin Jue knocked twice, and the door opened immediately.

She was met with a pair of swollen, tearful eyes.

Lin Yuebai hadn’t been watching the stream. She’d received Qin Jue’s message in advance, knowing she would come.

Unsure of Qin Jue’s temper, she trembled involuntarily when meeting those dark, unreadable eyes.

“I made some pastries. Let’s eat first, then talk, okay?”

Let me at least feed her before I apologize. Don’t embarrass me at the door…