Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 32

Lin Yuebai curiously glanced several times at the noblewoman and her husband outside the window. It wasn’t until the van fully entered the highway that she finally looked away.

“That couple are Jing Xin’s parents.”

“Yeah,” Zhuang Lan sighed. “Exactly—the parents of that famous artist. They had her study art since childhood. Jing Xin’s face won her fans in the entertainment industry, and paired with her bold personality, she was destined for success. With her family’s support and resources, her rise was inevitable. But it seems she wasn’t interested in staying—she wanted to return to her small artistic circle.”

“Turning down money—only the wealthy can afford to do that.”

The more Zhuang Lan spoke, the more agitated she became, once again venting her frustration about Lin Yuebai’s parents.

If she were managing any other artist, Zhuang Lan wouldn’t meddle in their family affairs. But Lin Yuebai’s parents were downright outrageous—both of them greedy, utterly senseless fools, making Zhuang Lan burn with silent fury.

Comparisons are truly odious.

“But it’s fine,” Zhuang Lan patted Lin Yuebai’s arm reassuringly. “Don’t take it to heart. The Jing family was once glorious, but they’ve declined now—just a dying camel still bigger than a horse. Though they’ve pivoted to new ventures, their overall influence doesn’t compare to President Qin’s. Stick close to him and plan wisely for yourself.”

Lin Yuebai gave a noncommittal hum, revealing nothing of her true feelings.

At the airport entrance, the noblewoman stood frozen, her gaze lingering on the black van speeding away before shifting to her husband’s face.

Her husband tilted his head in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Zhang Wen sighed. “Jing Yuanjie, I just saw someone who looks exactly like you.”

She reached up and pinched her husband’s cheeks, twisting and squishing his face in full public view.

“Her face shape is identical to yours—but prettier. And her eyes look like mine. Tell me the truth—do you have a secret love child out there?”

Half-teasing, half-suspicious, Zhang Wen squeezed harder until her husband’s cheeks flushed red.

The middle-aged couple, both well past fifty, had aged gracefully, their deep affection evident after years of shared struggles.

Jing Yuanjie nearly laughed in exasperation, silver strands faintly visible in his hair. “Don’t talk nonsense. If I had a secret daughter, how could her eyes resemble yours? If anything, she’d have to be yours.”

The secretary trailing behind them:

“…What a bizarre conversation.”

With his cheeks still red, Jing Yuanjie chided, “Stop staring at pretty young strangers—it’s rude.”

He dismissed his wife’s words, but Zhang Wen’s frown remained. “That girl was stunning. With a private van, she must be a celebrity. I wonder if she knows our Xinxin.”

Bl00d ties are strange—even from a distance, she could sense something familiar about the girl.

Had there not been so many people around, Zhang Wen would’ve rushed to pick up the sunglasses the girl dropped.

Such a beautiful child.

“Do you know her? What’s her name? What dramas has she been in?”

Zhang Wen turned to her secretary with the questions.

“General Manager, that person looks a bit like Lin Yuebai. She’s starred in two popular TV series—one mystery drama and one workplace drama—both showcasing professional acting. She’s gaining cross-over appeal with rapidly growing Weibo followers.”

Lin Yuebai’s Weibo page was displayed before Zhang Wen.

Hearing his wife scrolling through the other woman’s Weibo the entire ride, Jing Yuanjie leaned over to take a look. At first glance, he couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

The girl was undeniably beautiful, but…

Jing Yuanjie’s gaze flickered uncertainly between the Weibo photos and his wife’s face.

If the resemblance had been to just one of them, they might have suspected infidelity. But since the photos resembled both of them, the situation turned eerie.

Both of them inhaled sharply in the car, pupils trembling.

…

Welcome to Lin Yuebai’s Livestream

Qin Jue sat on a red velvet sofa beneath a dazzling crystal chandelier. The exquisite cut of the crystals made them shimmer even brighter, casting fragmented reflections across the vast space.

The woman on the sofa, dressed in a ruffled long dress, held a book in her hands. Her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders like a curtain, one strand draping over the black pearl necklace coiled around her neck.

The livestream revealed several stained-glass windows adorned with heavy embroidered curtains. Beyond the glass, layers of cold-resistant flowers bloomed in the garden.

“…Every time, I get tricked by the livestream notification.”

“No way, no way, can you really just hijack someone else’s livestream like this?”

“Give it up, folks. Since our dear friend is now a shareholder of Candy Live, just… give it up (praying with eyes closed).”

“Such a luxurious older sister—let me be the first to say I want to be her dog.”

“Those red high heels look gorgeous on her—perfect for stepping on my—”

“When is Little Moon coming?”

Qin Jue glanced at the barrage of comments and smiled. “She’s on her way. She’ll be here soon.”

“I’m waiting for her too.”

The livestream quickly devolved into casual chatter. Qin Jue flipped open the book in her hands, her eyes curving into crescents. “Since we have time, I’ll read you some poetry.”

Livestream: ?????

“Such an extravagant castle, such a plush velvet sofa, and you’re just sitting there… reading poetry?”

“Just f— already, thanks. Who wants to hear poetry?”

“As we all know, best friends don’t become wives… wait, no, I forgot—best friends are wives.”

Qin Jue skimmed past the wild comments, and the system nodded approvingly.

System: “Good. Now the public sees the protagonist as your personal belonging.”

Qin Jue curled her lips slightly. “Yes.”

System: “Perfect. The protagonist will surely be furious and humiliated, then work hard to distance herself from you, the big villain.”

Qin Jue nodded earnestly. “You’re absolutely right.”

It wasn’t until Qin Jue began reciting Russian poetry that the livestream realized she wasn’t reading Chinese.

Her Russian pronunciation was melodious—her consonants crisp and precise, not at all like a beginner’s but rather as if she had studied it formally.

Russian wasn’t a widely spoken language; only those with a specific interest or professional need learned it.

The rolling “r” was particularly hard to master, making people wonder if her tongue was flexible enough to tie a cherry stem into a knot.

“…I studied in Russia, and I must say her pronunciation is impeccable.”

“Damn, this ‘good friend’ is ridiculously charming.”

“Wait, I don’t get it. Why would she show off like this during a livestream? With Qin Jue’s status, she shouldn’t need income from livestream gifts anymore, right?”

“Commenter above, have you never been in love?”

“Commenter above, have you never been in love?”

“LOL, doesn’t she look like a peacock spreading its tail? She’s clearly not reading this for us—it’s all for Lin Yuebai.”

“I bet one spicy stick that Lin Yuebai is definitely watching this stream.”

“Strange, why hasn’t ‘Moonlight Shines on Me’—the one who always tips the stream—shown up today?”

The curious comment was quickly buried under an avalanche of others. Qin Jue recited love poems from the book, her large pearl necklace gleaming under the crystal chandelier’s bright light, making it look even more luxurious and enhancing her own appearance until she resembled an exquisite artwork displayed in a shop window.

Even the system was momentarily stunned, forgetting to sneak grapes from the fruit platter.

The heavy castle doors slowly creaked open. Contrary to the livestream’s speculations, Lin Yuebai wasn’t watching the broadcast.

She knew Qin Jue would use her account to stream, but she hadn’t been keeping constant tabs. Whatever Qin Jue said during the stream was beyond Lin Yuebai’s control.

Lin Yuebai stood nearby, her breathing slightly uneven.

As if overwhelmed by the scene.

She couldn’t understand what Qin Jue was saying. The other woman abruptly snapped the gilded poetry collection shut.

Obscure, difficult words spilled from her lips.

“Do you know what that passage meant?”

Of course, Lin Yuebai couldn’t comprehend. She shook her head, her heart racing ahead of her rationality.

“What?”

Her dark tea-colored eyes shone under the lamplight. Two candelabras stood at the entrance, their flickering flames reflected in her gaze.

Qin Jue’s lace-trimmed gown pooled on the floor, and a diamond hairpin secured her long tresses.

With a curved smile, Qin Jue said, “Your eyes are like twin stars, forever shining in my heart.”

Lin Yuebai suddenly halted, while Zhuang Lan behind her looked ashen.

What in the world was all this?

What was the boss doing? Why hadn’t she informed her manager beforehand?

Was there no one in this world who could rein her in?!!!

In the livestream:

“AHHHHH if this isn’t a confession, I’ll wash my hair standing on my hands!!!”

“Is this seriously just reading poetry? This is straight-up courtship!”

“I’m telling you, there’s no such thing as a ‘just good friends’ situation—she’s clearly pining after our Little Moon! Little Moon, don’t let this wicked woman deceive you!”

“So scheming!”

“My heart can’t take it, this is too sweet.”

“I never heard Qin Jue studied in Russia before. Her pronunciation is pretty good.”

“Could it be she’s been secretly learning just to impress Little Moon out of nowhere?”

“Got it. All that hard work just for this one dramatic moment.”

“‘Good friend,’ seriously, you’re way too obvious.”

The system belatedly realized, “You—the one who verbally teased the protagonist and acted frivolously toward her—just confessed in front of tens of thousands. Shouldn’t the protagonist hate you?”

Qin Jue nodded solemnly. “I think Lin Yuebai must hate me right now. Otherwise, why would her face be flushed with anger?”

The system said, “But no negative emotions were detected from the protagonist.”

Qin Jue retorted, “Check again carefully?”

The system obediently ran another scan and actually detected negative emotions this time.

Qin Jue was surprised.

There really were some?

The system explained, “The protagonist has been unhappy the whole way. She’s probably upset about you using her livestream room without permission.”

Thinking the host hadn’t deviated from character settings, the system quietly retreated to a corner of consciousness to watch cartoons.

Today, Qin Jue had a sudden inspiration. Without deliberately waiting for Lin Yuebai to return—she’d originally been handling work—she noticed a Russian poetry collection on the castle’s bookshelf that she’d read before.

Before transmigrating, she’d used this book as introductory reading material. She could recite most of it, skipping over the more complex parts since the audience wouldn’t understand anyway.

Lin Yuebai had just gotten off the plane when she received the notification.

Calculating the timing was about right, Qin Jue opened the streaming software to complete today’s task. Ever since she started using Lin Yuebai’s livestream channel, she’d maintained a daily broadcast schedule, always finding time to chat with viewers and occasionally share snippets of Lin Yuebai’s daily life at home.

She was careful with her filming—never exposing Lin Yuebai’s privacy or showing their exact address.

Fan maintenance was important, and since Lin Yuebai was busy, Qin Jue was happy to help.

Closing the book and setting it aside, Lin Yuebai walked to the sofa and looked down at the active livestream screen, feeling complicated.

What kind of sponsor helps with livestreaming?

A hand silently settled on Lin Yuebai’s waist, fingers occasionally kneading her side. The young woman’s body instantly stiffened. She wanted to pull away but restrained herself for the camera, only shooting Qin Jue a deeply resentful look.

A cat showing its belly doesn’t want you to touch—it just wants you to look.

Qin Jue seemed completely oblivious to Lin Yuebai’s complex gaze, slipping her fingers beneath the jacket to touch the clothing against her skin.

The waist muscles felt wonderfully supple, her body remarkably flexible. The slight softness around her abdomen—a marked improvement from her previous skeletal thinness—was perfectly normal, even healthy, providing protection for internal organs.

The warmth and softness proved irresistible, and Qin Jue couldn’t help stroking several times.

The gentle abdomen, upon closer touch, revealed the contours of toned abs.

A fitness-conscious cat indeed.

Lin Yuebai’s expression grew increasingly unsettled. In the past, she might have obediently adjusted her posture for Qin Jue’s touch. But today, perhaps affected by meeting Jingxin’s parents or that strikingly familiar noblewoman, her heart was in turmoil.

Lin Yuebai reached out and shut down the livestream.

As the screen went black, a flood of exclamation marks erupted in the chat.

“What can’t us premium VIPs see?” “Best friend: Got you hooked, don’t I?” “Such old-fashioned flirting. Please chase me properly, thanks.” “Is it just me? Qin Jue would make such a gentle mother someday.” “Let her become the official wife first.” “Can’t stand seeing a former rich kid acting like a lovesick puppy now.” “They’re just friends! Stop spreading rumors and creating drama.”

Online discussions about Lin Yuebai were varied and numerous. The CP fans were absolutely thrilled, as some dedicated fans had recorded and uploaded the clip of Qin Jue reciting love poetry while sitting on the sofa to video-sharing platforms.

With the intense background music and masterful editing, outsiders might have thought the two were already raising triplets together.

Lin Yuebai was in a sour mood today. While being held by Qin Jue as she slept, she unconsciously wrapped her legs around Qin Jue’s.

Qin Jue had demanded that she accompany her to bed every night, and true to her word, Lin Yuebai slipped under the covers wearing a short-sleeved pajama top and shorts that barely reached mid-thigh.

She willingly nestled her soft body into the arms of the woman beside her.

Qin Jue, resting with her eyes closed, sensed her “cat” climbing into bed and turned over to fully envelop her.

“What’s wrong?”

After the livestream ended, the system had issued another alert—the protagonist’s negative emotions were steadily rising. The system assumed Qin Jue was responsible, but Qin Jue hadn’t said a word.

Now, the system had entered a dormant state, likely assuming the host was about to engage in activities unsuitable for minors and had automatically shut itself off.

Curled into a small ball under the covers, Lin Yuebai only shook her head silently.

Her phone screen was still lit, displaying a family photo of three from Jing Xin’s Weibo.

Suddenly, everything went dark—a hand completely covered her eyes.

The phone was snatched from her grasp and placed face-down on the nightstand.

“Focus on sleeping. No phones.”

The lashes brushing against Qin Jue’s palm sent a tickling sensation through her. The girl in her arms let out a muffled “Mm,” and didn’t move again.

The hand over her eyes remained. Whether minutes or hours passed, Lin Yuebai eventually heard a faint sigh from above.

“Do you love your family?”

Lin Yuebai shook her head without hesitation.

“Qin Jue… Jiejie, if I weren’t a filial person, would you hate me?”

She felt no affection for her family. Call her cold-hearted, call her opportunistic—the more she witnessed the luxuries of life, the more she saw families happier and wealthier than hers, the more disgusted she grew toward her parents and younger brother.

But bl00d ties were inescapable. Her parents’ bl00d would forever flow through her veins, an invisible, festering scar within her.

Qin Jue bypassed her anxious question, her voice tender. “What if I told you… you aren’t your parents’ biological child?”

“Sweetheart, I know you’ve always resented your background, and the endless emotional drain frustrates you. My poor baby, none of this is your fault.”

The hand on Lin Yuebai’s face never moved, even as the room plunged into darkness. Qin Jue’s voice was the only guiding light in the shadows.

Lin Yuebai pressed her back against Qin Jue, drawing warmth from the woman’s body like an endless well.

“In my bag, there’s a DNA test report for you and your parents. If you’re curious, you can look at it tomorrow. For now, it’s late—sleep.”

With the system offline, Qin Jue’s voice softened unusually. She pressed a kiss to the top of Lin Yuebai’s head, holding the girl who had endured so much, showering her with gentle kisses.

When the hand finally lifted from her eyes, Lin Yuebai opened them to see Qin Jue’s pale collarbones and slender neck.

Only now did Lin Yuebai get a clear look at Qin Jue’s pajamas, which were printed with moon patterns. There were full moons, waxing crescents, and waning crescents—some moons obscured by dark clouds, others shining brightly like little light bulbs with simple smiling faces drawn on them.

Lin Yuebai thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but as the steady breathing of the person beside her filled the room, drowsiness gradually overtook her. Eventually, she rested her forehead against Qin Jue’s chest.

The castle wasn’t far from the city center. The next day, Qin Jue drove Lin Yuebai to the headquarters of a luxury brand for a shareholders’ meeting.

Since non-staff weren’t allowed in the conference room, Lin Yuebai was escorted by Zhuang Lan to the VIP lounge.

Zhuang Lan gasped in awe. “Ordinary people can’t even set foot in this place. Don’t be fooled by how glamorous those brand ambassadors seem outside—this lounge is strictly for top executives. Let me take a photo of you here. It’ll make everyone green with envy.”

But Lin Yuebai’s attention remained fixed on the DNA test results Qin Jue had handed her before leaving.

Her parents’ photos and basic information were listed, followed by dense medical terminology she couldn’t decipher. Yet, she understood one thing clearly: every line confirmed she shared no bl00d relation with them.

Her parents were biologically related only to her younger brother.

Not to her.

Her fingers turned pale and stiff as they clutched the document. Along with the test results, Qin Jue had also given her a separate household register—thin, with only her name inside.

Zhuang Lan frowned. “What are you looking at? Focus—I’m trying to take your picture.”

Grumbling, she walked over. Though she had originally assigned Lin Yuebai two assistants, neither had clearance to enter this area. Zhuang Lan always handled photography herself, meticulous about composition and lighting.

Lin Yuebai was photogenic no matter the angle, and Zhuang Lan often ended up snapping dozens of shots before selecting just one or two for social media.

As she adjusted the luxury-branded tableware for the shot, Zhuang Lan glanced at what Lin Yuebai was holding—then nearly dropped the wine glass in shock.

“Holy sh1t, what is this?!”

Zhuang Lan rarely swore, reserving curses exclusively for matters involving Lin Yuebai’s parents.

“Your parents—no, those two old bastards—aren’t biologically related to you?!”

She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. “I was worried their scandals might tarnish your reputation, but now? If anyone questions your background, just shove this DNA report in their face.”

Then it hit her: If they weren’t her real parents… who were?

Adoption wasn’t uncommon in rural areas, but Zhuang Lan brushed the thought aside. Even in the worst-case scenario, Lin Yuebai could simply choose not to acknowledge any newfound relatives. As long as her public image remained untarnished, that was all that mattered.

@LinYuebai: Honored to be invited for a visit. [Photo][Photo]

The first image showed a tuxedo-clad attendant bowing beside a sofa, presenting the latest high-end custom necklace on the table.

The second captured a bird’s-eye view of the old city district, the same pigeon-bl00d ruby necklace now draped around her neck.

“Casual onlookers, hold your gasps—let the fans freak out first.”

“Strange, the spokesperson for this brand isn’t Lin Yuebai.”

“Yesterday this company signed a collaboration with Jingxin’s art gallery—why would Lin Yuebai be involved?”

“The background looks unfamiliar—no one in the industry seems to have taken photos here before.”

“When I encounter something unexplainable, I usually think of my good friend…”

“Got it—turns out my good friend is one of the shareholders of this company.”

“Qin Jue is truly too well-rounded, excelling in every aspect.”

“How can someone be wealthy, beautiful, fluent in multiple languages, and have business acumen all at once…”

“Adding to the above—and still acts like a simp.”

“Our Little Moon deserves everyone’s love!”

An ID forwarded, liked, and commented.

MoonlightShinesOnMe: “Our Little Moon is truly amazing. Pigeon-bl00d rubies look perfect against fair skin (kitty running)”

In the conference room, Qin Jue placed her phone face down on the table, listening half-heartedly to the quarterly meeting.

System: “You’ve been lurking on the protagonist’s Weibo again~”

Qin Jue: “…”

Lin Yuebai gently touched the cool pigeon-bl00d ruby around her neck. She had heard this necklace was custom-made by Qin Jue for her, with her initials engraved on one side—a moon in elegant script.

At the end of the hallway, Zhuang Lan was on a call with brand representatives.

Lin Yuebai paused in the brand history corridor on the same floor to browse.

Footsteps approached from behind. A woman in a wide-brimmed white hat stood before an oil painting, her expression shifting between light and shadow.

Yesterday, her mother had asked if she knew Lin Yuebai.

Jing Xin’s gaze at Lin Yuebai now held complex emotions, while her parents were downstairs discussing a collaborative art gallery.

Riding on her parents’ modest influence, she had thrived in fashion and art circles.

Jing Xin’s eyes immediately locked onto the stack of papers in Lin Yuebai’s hands. Even without seeing the details, the layout alone told her they were DNA test results.

Had she found out?!

“Why are you here?!” Jing Xin’s hair stood on end as she instinctively stepped back, though her posture remained aggressive, like a hissing feline.

Lin Yuebai frowned almost imperceptibly. She neither understood this unwarranted hostility nor intended to indulge it.

“Did your parents never teach you basic courtesy when dealing with others?”