Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 37

Lin Yuebai’s mind went blank as she felt the pressure of high heels digging into her shoulder.

Qin Jue—how dare she do this here?!

Lin Yuebai’s face instantly paled before flushing a faint pink.

Qin Jue couldn’t stand seeing her so obediently allowing her to have her way, so she pressed down even harder.

Lin Yuebai’s fingers still rested on the tip of Qin Jue’s foot, gently massaging the spot reddened by the high heels.

No blisters, no bleeding—compared to the bloodied blisters Lin Yuebai had endured during her dance training, Qin Jue’s discomfort was trivial.

Lin Yuebai thought this young mistress was truly spoiled.

Spoiled and wicked, enjoying toying with people.

Her heart pounded wildly, a bead of sweat forming at the tip of her nose as she obediently looked up with a puzzled expression.

“Move your heel, and I’ll get you some ointment. Also, these stockings shouldn’t be worn anymore—I’ll find you a pair of slippers.”

The feel of stocking-clad feet had a uniquely smooth texture, like touching a rare treasure through a veil.

Lin Yuebai’s ears grew redder by the second.

She didn’t dare voice her thoughts—it would make her seem like a pervert.

She didn’t have any strange fetishes; she just believed someone as perfect as Qin Jue should remain flawless from head to toe, without a single blemish.

The high heel pressing into her shoulder didn’t budge. Instead, Qin Jue lifted the toe of her shoe to tilt Lin Yuebai’s chin up.

A chill ran down Lin Yuebai’s jaw as the glossy black leather reflected her bewildered face.

From her angle, she couldn’t discern Qin Jue’s emotions—only the teasing, amused glint in her eyes as she looked down.

Mischievous.

Playful.

Wicked.

Treating people like playthings.

If it were anyone else, Lin Yuebai would have been furious by now. Even if she didn’t wield much influence compared to industry elites, she wasn’t someone to be casually humiliated. Yet, when it came to Qin Jue, she inexplicably accepted it.

If Qin Jue wanted it.

Lin Yuebai offered a docile smile.

“Qin Jue, doesn’t your foot hurt? Let me help you take off your stockings.”

Still in that awkward position, she reached to pull at Qin Jue’s stockings.

But how could she remove them through pants?

Lin Yuebai’s nails, sharpened by the stylist for her period drama’s crimson manicure, were long and pointed. With just a slight tug, she tore a large hole in Qin Jue’s stockings.

Qin Jue: “…” What sharp little claws.

Lin Yuebai froze, still pinned in place, one knee aching from kneeling on the floor.

“Qin Jue, my knee hurts. Be kind to me—please move your foot?”

Her voice softened in plea. “If I’ve done something wrong, just tell me. I’ll fix it.”

Bullying required no reason, but making someone happy demanded effort.

Lin Yuebai was still figuring out what pleased Qin Jue.

Without a word, Qin Jue lifted her heel from Lin Yuebai’s chin and carelessly kicked aside her new red-soled high heels.

Lin Yuebai retrieved the new plush slippers her agent had bought for her from the cabinet. Seeing that her stockings were already torn, she simply ripped them off completely and applied ointment to the reddened areas.

Qin Jue’s body seemed thoroughly infused with the scents of roses and agarwood—evidently, she loved soaking in baths. Every inch of her was fragrant, every inch soft and smooth.

Yet paradoxically, such a woman also loved exercise, her body bearing clear traces of disciplined training.

“Lin Yuebai! The director’s looking for you—are you ready yet?”

The dressing room door rattled under forceful knocking as Zhuang Lan shouted outside, “Have you memorized your lines? I just wrote you some cheat notes—hide them in your palm, the camera won’t catch them.”

Fussing like an old nanny, Zhuang Lan added, “I just saw President Qin’s secretary here too. Has she arrived?”

Mid-sentence, Zhuang Lan suddenly realized something was amiss. Normally, Lin Yuebai wouldn’t waste time—she wasn’t one to dawdle.

There could only be one explanation now.

Zhuang Lan cursed inwardly—President Qin was such a nuisance, disrupting Yuebai’s work for no good reason.

After two minutes of waiting, Lin Yuebai hurried out, lifting her skirts. The phoenix pearl hairpins on her head clinked together with crisp, rustling sounds.

The imperial concubine’s smiling eyes transformed even the crude doorframe she rested her manicured fingers upon, making the shabby dressing room appear radiant.

Zhuang Lan was momentarily stunned. “Don’t move—let me take your picture.”

Just as the shutter clicked, a figure approached.

White lamb slippers padded across the floor, mismatched with a light-colored suit above them. A lock of long hair draped over her shoulder as faintly smiling eyes gleamed from the shadows.

Like some female ghost, Zhuang Lan thought.

“My apologies for interrupting your work,” Qin Jue said.

Zhuang Lan’s lips twitched. “You’re aware of it, then.”

Qin Jue smiled and stepped aside, allowing the agent to resume photographing Lin Yuebai.

The agent edited quickly—Lin Yuebai was naturally beautiful, requiring only minor adjustments to lighting and contrast.

Lin Yuebai’s eyes shimmered like emerald waters. Dressed in breathtaking imperial splendor, her gaze held both shyness and veiled anticipation.

Yearning left unspoken, insatiable still.

What a pity their moment was cut short—she’d only managed to hastily apply ointment and kiss Qin Jue’s instep before being interrupted, leaving no deeper impression.

Had Qin Jue ever allowed others to tear her stockings before?
Had she ever permitted anyone to kiss her feet?

Someone like her might indulge any whim—Lin Yuebai’s eyes darkened with greed.

If she became more famous, if she could stand beside Qin Jue as an equal… would those eyes then look only at her?

System: “Detecting negative emotions in protagonist.”

Under Zhuang Lan’s complicated gaze, Qin Jue settled into a camping chair in her soft lamb slippers. As the visiting investor, the director immediately rushed to report progress.

Qin Jue nodded intermittently while conversing inwardly with the system.

“How much do you think she hates me now?”

A faint apology lingered in Qin Jue’s heart—she was a businesswoman, and no internal conflict would ever show on her face.

System: “She has every right to hate you.”

Qin Jue supposed that was true. “But she kissed me just now.”

The system pinched Qin Jue’s mouth shut: “No way, I don’t want to hear your NSFW content.”

The system was going crazy: “In the original plot, the protagonist endured suffering silently—it was all because of you, you wicked woman forcing her! I never told you to make the protagonist kiss your instep. You’re truly despicable.”

Somehow, the system had come to view its host as an absolute villain.

How could she force such a noble protagonist to kneel on one knee, kissing her instep while applying medicine? Those faint red marks would disappear in half an hour anyway.

The sheer audacity!

Qin Jue merely smiled without speaking, giving the director goosebumps all over.

The female lead of “Auspicious Clouds and Phoenix Cries” was a top-tier actress. The current scene depicted Lu Tonghua, playing the lead role, accidentally encountering the imperial concubine’s procession shortly after entering the palace.

Qin Jue pulled up a small stool beside the director, who broke out in cold sweat. “The sun’s strong here—let me get you a parasol,” the director offered. Used to roughing it outdoors, the director knew this wealthy heiress couldn’t possibly endure the blazing sun.

Qin Jue didn’t refuse. Soon, staff brought over a large beach umbrella like those found at convenience stores.

Lu Tonghua wore a pale pink palace dress, modest attire fitting her lowly newcomer status. In stark contrast, the imperial concubine sat loftily upon her palanquin, chin resting on one hand, her expression dripping with arrogance.

As the palanquin passed the newly arrived concubines, the imperial concubine gave a deliberate, disdainful sniff.

Qin Jue raised her phone to take photos. The director instinctively moved to stop her—leaked set photos were forbidden—but ultimately withdrew his hand helplessly. Who didn’t know Lin Yuebai belonged to this tycoon? Even if the lead actress outranked Lin Yuebai professionally, she’d still have to greet her respectfully off-camera.

The imperial concubine’s sidelong glance swept over the kneeling junior concubines. Without granting permission to rise, they remained frozen in their bows, bodies beginning to tremble slightly. The palace offered countless subtle ways to torment someone.

Qin Jue’s eyes sparkled—she’d never seen Lin Yuebai embody such imperiousness before. The concubine’s crimson lips parted, delivering sarcastic remarks laced with venom. “Since the ladies of the Selection Palace failed to teach you manners, this consort shall undertake your education personally.””

One junior concubine collapsed in terror, immediately seized by a muscular maid who delivered a resounding slap. The actress fell dramatically as makeup artists applied blush to simulate swelling.

Lu Tonghua’s face drained of color, her expression screaming “Today’s not my day”—to think a casual stroll in the imperial gardens would lead to encountering this notorious consort. “This humble one begs Your Highness’ forgiveness,” she pleaded.

This scene highlighted Lu Tonghua’s composure against the concubine’s petulant tyranny, culminating in the junior concubine being punished with two hours of kneeling.

Qin Jue remarked, “Lin Yuebai’s so fierce.”

The system countered, “See that actress getting slapped by the maid?”

“Yep.”

“Later when the protagonist slaps you, it’ll be even more forceful than that muscular maid.”

Qin Jue mused, “…But Little Moonlight smells so nice. Before she hits me, I’ll get to enjoy her fragrance first.”

The System remarked, “Sis, I’ve realized you’re truly twisted. Even before I brought you into this novel transmigration, you never seemed like a decent person.”

Qin Jue chuckled without arguing.

Before being snatched away by the system, Qin Jue had been running her business in Haicheng. That night, she was driving while listening to an audiobook, humming cheerfully on the highway. When her phone rang from the passenger seat, she answered on speaker. Her secretary’s voice came through.

“The CEO of that company trying to poach our suppliers got caught for drunk driving and fleeing the scene today. Somehow, he bypassed traffic police and drove straight onto the road. Now his car’s overturned and on fire—doesn’t look good.”

Meanwhile, the AI narrator’s monotone voice droned through her earphones. Qin Jue couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s just perfect.”

The system concluded: Qin Jue was a full-blown villain.

@Lin Yuebai: Posted by a good friend [Image][Image]

One photo showed Lin Yuebai seated high on a palanquin, gazing imperiously at the crowd. The other captured her stepping out of a dressing room, leaning against the doorframe. With brightness adjusted, another figure could be seen inside—their upper body unclear, but their lower half clad in light-colored suit pants and white fluffy slippers.

“Not even hiding it now, huh? Just straight-up ‘good friends’?”

“……Alright, alright, so this is what ‘good friends’ means. Then what does that make me and my bestie—bl00d sisters?”

“Classic girlfriend POV.”

“Not classic girlfriend POV, but you can tell the photographer adores our Little Moon.”

“Wuwu, Little Moon is the best.”

“Auspicious Clouds and Phoenix Cry is gonna blow up!!!!”

“Before this, Little Moon always played sweet, gentle girl-next-door roles. But after her forensic investigator character, her range expanded so much.”

“A stunning, enchanting beauty—I’m feasting.”

“Am I the only one curious about who’s wearing those fluffy slippers in the back?”

“Obviously Qin Jue. Her recent photos all show her in business-casual style. Older pics of her at parties or vacations dressed trendier have all been scrubbed from the internet.”

“Good friend’s gotta peacock in front of Little Moon to keep up appearances.”

“They’re not even pushing a CP—chill out.”

“You think a Weibo account’s that easy to hand over? The only ones with access right now are Little Moon herself, her hardworking manager, and her good friend.”

“Don’t care, don’t care—I’m shipping it.”

“Moonlight Jasmine tea sold out instantly. My local shop’s already out of stock.”

“Wuwu, no livestreams lately. Insiders say the contract expired QWQ”

“Look on the bright side, sis—those streams weren’t Little Moon anyway. At best, her good friend might grace us with a few minutes.”

Qin Jue scrolled through the comments, then glanced up as Lin Yuebai went to grab a boxed lunch—only for Zhuang Lan to block her path, refusing to let her eat the greasy, salty food.

“I ordered you a beef salad. Eat lightly.”

Qin Jue interjected, “No need. Her stomach’s sensitive—cold food gives her pain.”

Lin Yuebai, cowering like a chick behind her manager, murmured, “It’s fine, I’ll manage with this.”

Qin Jue frowned in dissatisfaction, while Lin Yuebai flashed an extremely docile smile. “Qin Jue, thank you for caring about me.”

Even her agent focused more on her weight than whether her stomach was upset. Over time, even Lin Yuebai herself stopped paying attention to her digestive discomfort—after all, cameras wouldn’t show her mercy for stomach cramps, nor would the audience.

Only Qin Jue would.

Qin Jue had someone deliver a bowl of freshly made yam juice, along with steamed cod and three types of stir-fried seasonal vegetables. The greens stir-fried with lard were particularly delicious—visibly simple yet fragrant with meaty aroma, anything but bland.

The afternoon scene required the emperor to fly into a rage upon discovering the imperial consort’s scheme to frame Lu Tonghua, ordering her to kneel in the hall. As the series progressed toward its later stages, the consort’s jeweled headdresses grew increasingly ornate, like roses blooming to their fullest before decay.

The system emitted a series of beeps. “Don’t forget what you’re supposed to do now.”

Qin Jue: “No need to remind this villain.”

The system had initially worried Qin Jue might hesitate, but later found her utterly ruthless in bullying the protagonist, making it somewhat sympathetic toward the lead. “That’s enough—don’t humiliate her too much.”

The scene only required the consort to kneel on cold stone tiles for two minutes. During the noon break, Qin Jue had specifically chosen this moment with the director.

Under the glaring sun, the consort lowered her eyes and hands, her face showing no trace of humility—instead appearing prouder than the seated concubines. As if framing Lu Tonghua had been an honor for the latter.

The consort came from a powerful family; she hadn’t entered the palace for imperial favor. Everything she possessed was rightfully hers—the most delicate flower nurtured by power and treasures. Even the actor playing the emperor paled in comparison.

Qin Jue sat under a parasol. Though the weather wasn’t hot, the intense sunlight was uncomfortable.

“Cut! This take’s good. Prepare for the next scene,” called the director.

Lin Yuebai knelt on the stone floor, knees chilled. Her layered costumes, thick and stifling, made her extremely uncomfortable. As she gathered her skirts to rise, a languid voice came from behind.

“Really done? I think it needs more work.”

The director turned, puzzled. “Your thoughts?”

Qin Jue: “A palace maid was distracted just now. Didn’t you notice as director?”

Reviewing the footage, the director indeed spotted a maid absentmindedly picking at her fingers—something bound to draw online criticism if aired. “Let’s do another take, everyone.”

Lin Yuebai had to rise and kneel again. Thankfully, her thick clothing only left her knees with dull, bearable pain. But it still hurt.

Qin Jue had spoiled her—she couldn’t tolerate the slightest grievance now.

The consort’s face maintained its usual arrogance, now tinged with indignation—not toward the emperor’s reprimand, but at the injustice of apologizing to someone beneath her like Lu Tonghua. The sight could melt hearts with pity.

A girl like Lin Yuebai deserved to be cradled and cherished.

“Cut!” The director called. Qin Jue waited for the system’s response.

Qin Jue sat cross-legged on the camping chair, her fluffy white slippers clashing oddly yet endearingly with her loose-fitting suit.

“Let’s do it again. If that actor playing the emperor can’t perform well, he shouldn’t be here at all. You’re portraying an emperor—you should first show irritation toward the harem’s troubles, along with a hint of pity for Lu Tonghua, not leer at Lin Yuebai like some pervert.”

The male actor trembled under her reprimand. “Understood.”

Lin Yuebai’s knees were red, and she subtly wiped the sweat from her forehead.

She felt wronged.

She had heard Qin Jue’s voice, but Qin Jue hadn’t called for a break. Filming was hard work—shooting a scene over a dozen times was normal—but Qin Jue’s demand for retakes made her inexplicably upset.

Kneeling on the cold bricks really hurt.

When the final take wrapped, both the director and the system declared it perfect.

The system remarked, “You just acted like a nitpicky, insufferable client. The protagonist is drowning in negative emotions.”

Qin Jue’s fingers paused mid-scroll as she noticed Lin Yuebai approaching from the corner of her eye. But then her phone rang, forcing her to step away to answer.

Lin Yuebai stood under the parasol, clutching her skirt, eyes dry and frustration simmering in her chest. She kicked Qin Jue’s abandoned camping chair with her embroidered slipper.

The director, oblivious to her mood, chirped, “That last take was fantastic! Let me show you the playback.”

Lin Yuebai watched distractedly, her mind already drifting far away.

What call could be so important that Qin Jue would turn away the moment she saw me coming?

Zhuang Lan held her skirt as she sat on the camping chair, while Zhong Yi brought two bottles of chilled water. “You’ve worked hard. President Qin has been quite busy lately.”

Zhuang Lan, scrolling through her phone, stumbled upon a forum post dissecting Lin Yuebai’s resemblance to the Jing couple—complete with detailed facial bone structure comparisons.

Seeing speculation that she might be the long-lost princess of the Jing family, Lin Yuebai assumed Qin Jue had orchestrated the post, lifting her spirits slightly.

The call Qin Jue received was from an unknown number.

“President Qin.”

A hoarse woman’s voice came through. “Lin Yuebai isn’t answering my calls. How dare she be angry with me? I’ve given her everything back—what more does she want?”

Qin Jue replied, “She’s filming. Her phone isn’t with her.”

Jing Xin was at the airport, background noise chaotic until she moved somewhere quieter. “I’ve provided evidence that Tao Qiao and Lin Dicai were involved in child trafficking. The lawyer says it might escalate to a serious abduction case. The nurse they bribed was their hometown acquaintance—I’ve emailed you the proof.”

Exhaustion and resignation laced her voice.

“What was never mine will never be mine. I just hope my parents stay healthy. With Lin Yuebai by their side, they should be content.”

Jing Xin would always resent Lin Yuebai—but only to a point.

Just as before, she looked down on everyone yet couldn’t be bothered to scheme against them.

Proud people exit with pride, needing no one’s pity. She had grown accustomed to her parents’ undivided love—how could she bear watching them lavish even a fraction of it on Lin Yuebai?

Qin Jue’s phone emitted a busy tone as the other end hung up. From the background noise, it sounded like they were boarding a flight.

She slipped her phone into her pocket and shuffled over to Lin Yuebai in her fluffy slippers. The little girl turned her face away, clearly ignoring her.

Realizing the child was probably upset, Qin Jue pulled up a small stool and sat across from her, then lifted the hem of her skirt.

Lin Yuebai immediately clamped her skirt down and shot her a glare. “What are you doing?”

Underneath her skirt, she wore loose long pants—a pair of somewhat lengthy sleepwear that couldn’t be seen on camera.

They were Qin Jue’s silk pajama pants from her wardrobe, wide enough to be pulled all the way up from the ankles to the thighs.

Qin Jue grasped her ankle. “Don’t move. Let me apply some ointment. Did kneeling hurt you earlier?”

Zhuang Lan, tactful as ever, pulled the director aside, who had come to report work updates to the investor.

Lin Yuebai’s face was flushed from the sun, enhancing her graceful and coquettish charm, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Go spend your life with your phone then. Don’t touch me.”

Despite her words, Lin Yuebai obediently lifted the hem of her skirt, allowing Qin Jue to fold the pajama pants above her knees, revealing the slightly reddened skin.

A faint redness—had she applied the ointment any later, it would have faded on its own.

The cool ointment spread over her knees as Qin Jue pressed her palm against the kneecap, carefully massaging it in.

“Was it wrong of me to tease you? Are you angry?”