Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 3

Qin Jue had no idea why the system was so excited.

Perhaps the so-called Heavenly Dao System in this book wasn’t very bright.

Qin Jue patted Lin Yuebai’s shoulder. “Go rest.”

Go rest?

Lin Yuebai didn’t understand. They hadn’t done anything yet, and now the CEO was telling her to rest?

Was this another trap?

But she had no choice. She really did need to rest.

Holding up her dress, Lin Yuebai glanced back repeatedly as she hurried upstairs. The second floor had more than one bathroom. She quickly took a shower, changed into the clean clothes that had been prepared, and slipped into one of the smaller bedrooms.

Before long, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

The trembling girl under the blankets shuddered, her frightened eyes wide in the darkness.

She knew it.

She knew Qin Jue wouldn’t let her off so easily.

Qin Jue didn’t look like the kind-hearted type.

Outside, the night was thick as ink, swallowing every trace of light. The faint creak of the bedroom door was jarring in the silent darkness.

Qin Jue’s long, wavy hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, each strand seemingly imbued with a bewitching allure. Her red-nailed fingers pressed against the dark walnut door, creating a striking visual contrast. Her fox-like eyes curved slightly, their predatory glint impossible to ignore.

“Time for your medicine.”

Lin Yuebai flinched and burrowed deeper under the covers before freezing, realizing the person before her wasn’t open to negotiation.

This wasn’t something she could refuse.

“Thank you, CEO Qin. You can leave it by the door.”

In Qin Jue’s mind, the system was spinning in circles, setting off fireworks.

“Host, you’re a natural-born villain! You’ll definitely be the best whetstone to temper the protagonist. Just by standing here, you’re already making her radiate fear.”

Qin Jue’s lips twitched, and she mentally gave the system a thumbs-up.

Qin Jue: “Sit up and drink it.”

She was certain that if she left the medicine on the hallway table, Lin Yuebai wouldn’t drink it—she’d probably pour it straight down the toilet. Given Qin Jue’s notorious reputation and Lin Yuebai’s wariness, the girl would surely assume the cup contained something dubious.

Lin Yuebai’s frail frame looked as if a gust of wind could knock her over. She felt feverish and hadn’t caught what the family doctor had said earlier.

Her hands clutched the blankets tightly, her knuckles whitening from the strain. When the woman by the door held out the medicine, her trembling intensified.

What choice did she have, after all?

She thought of everyone working hard on the film set, of the sleepless nights spent shooting, only for the project to be shelved by a single offhand remark from this very investor.

She had no right to refuse the medicine.

The faintly bitter scent of the medicine hung in the air, yet oddly, it was somehow comforting.

The antique cup filled with brown liquid was brought to her lips. Lin Yuebai seemed about to say something but swallowed her words instead, tilting her head back to drink from Qin Jue’s hand.

The familiar bitterness told her it was just regular cold medicine.

Contrary to Lin Yuebai’s expectations, Qin Jue made no further moves after seeing the empty cup, seemingly satisfied with her compliance.

“Sleep well.”

With the creak of the door closing, the villa sank back into silence.

The system in Qin Jue’s mind chattered incessantly,
“I thought giving Lin Yuebai the medicine would break character, but I never expected it would scare her to tears. She’ll definitely remember this humiliation and pay you back tenfold as the villain! When your mission’s complete, I’ll activate painless mode during your car accident—just sleep and you’ll return to your original world.”

The system in Qin Jue’s mind rubbed its hands together, cheering in triumph.

Qin Jue: “…”

Head throbbing, she massaged her temples. “Got it. Shut up.”

When Qin Jue first read this novel, she had adored Lin Yuebai’s character—beautiful yet resilient, like white blossoms blooming defiantly among thorns emerging from a swamp.

Yawning lazily, Qin Jue leaned against the vintage record player in her bedroom. The rotating vinyl spun out smooth jazz as she idly marked a document with a gold-nibbed fountain pen.

The system in her head peeked curiously.
“Hey, what’s this?”

“A new way to humiliate your precious protagonist.”

The system didn’t quite understand, but it trusted this host.

The document listed every coveted opportunity in the entertainment industry—blockbuster film roles, luxury endorsements, magazine covers, high-profile events—each enough to make any artist willingly trade favors. With each stroke of black ink, control over these opportunities solidified.

Perhaps, Qin Jue mused, the protagonist didn’t need to suffer so much to reach greatness. She just lacked someone to pave the way.

As for the system’s promised painless exit…

She really didn’t want to end up like the original villain—kneeling for slaps before being dismembered in a car crash. Hopefully, a triumphant Lin Yuebai wouldn’t hold grudges too fiercely.

With the drama’s promotion still weeks away, some visible endorsements would do for now.

Qin Jue tossed the document aside, screwing the pen cap shut.

Next morning.

Lin Yuebai emerged from the guest room wallet-less and phoneless, drowning in Qin Jue’s pajamas. The oversized sleepwear slipped provocatively off her slender frame—half-revealing, half-clinging—as if designed for seduction. Flushing, she yanked the collar closed and hurried downstairs.

The dining room was occupied.

The housekeeper’s seafood porridge filled the air with briny richness, its golden surface dotted with scallions as Qin Jue stirred slowly with a silver spoon.

A wallet and phone lay conspicuously on the table.

Beneath the phone rested a document.

Qin Jue didn’t seem surprised by Lin Yuebai’s punctuality—protagonists never slept in.

“Good morning, President Qin.”

Lin Yuebai stood frozen at the doorway, clutching the robe. The scratches on her thighs still ached faintly, cruel reminders of last night’s degradation.

Nothing happened last night. She closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately, waking up drenched in sweat but feeling much better.

Lin Yuebai looked at Qin Jue with a complicated expression.

This CEO Qin didn’t seem as bad as people made her out to be.

Qin Jue slightly lifted her chin. “Your manager dropped off your phone this morning. It kept ringing—so damn annoying.”

Her face wore just the right amount of irritation.

The system, taking the form of a glowing orb, quietly snatched a shrimp from Qin Jue’s bowl. In the blink of an eye, the shrimp disappeared.

Qin Jue: “…”

The system chewed noisily before swallowing. “You’re the villain! You’re not supposed to help the protagonist! In the original story, Qin Jue smashed the protagonist’s phone—you’re supposed to abuse and humiliate her!”

Qin Jue curled her lips slightly and replied to the system, “Of course I know that.”

Lin Yuebai hurried forward and grabbed her phone. “Thank you!”

But before she could relax, a flood of missed calls and unread messages appeared on her screen.

The contact labeled “Father” had sent countless messages, the latest one reading:

“You ungrateful brat! I spent so much money raising you, and now that I’m asking for payback, you won’t give me a single cent?!”

Lin Yuebai’s face instantly paled, her fingers gripping the edges of her phone so tightly they turned white.

The system, noticing the protagonist’s distress, let out an impressed “Wow!” and grew even more in awe of its host—before stealthily stealing a scallop from Qin Jue’s bowl.

Did… CEO Qin just see that?

Lin Yuebai bit her lower lip so hard it nearly bled.

Qin Jue elegantly stirred her seafood congee with a silver spoon. “I happen to have a lipstick endorsement available. If you want it, it’s yours anytime.”

She tapped her knuckles against a document on the dining table, her voice as smooth as a serpent’s hiss:

“All you have to do is sign.”