Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 38

Lin Yuebai ignored Qin Jue’s words.

She didn’t pay attention to Qin Jue kneeling on the stone path, rubbing the redness on her knees.

She thought this person was too much.

Muttering nonsense one moment, then coaxing her the next—Lin Yuebai couldn’t tolerate any grievances now. Her fingers pressed whitely against the edge of the chair as she glared at Qin Jue with growing displeasure.

Qin Jue noticed Lin Yuebai’s sulking. She lifted her gaze to meet Lin Yuebai’s dark, resentful eyes and finally smiled.

“You really are angry. My bad—I was too strict. I should apologize.”

If kneeling for just ten minutes during filming warranted an apology, then Lin Yuebai would have received far too many apologies in her lifetime.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the world was as patient as Qin Jue in coaxing her. At this thought, Lin Yuebai’s heart twisted with unreasonable discontent.

The medicinal ointment warmed in her palm before being rubbed onto the reddened knees. Her snow-white calves stretched taut under the sunlight, nearly translucent and glowing.

Zhuang Lan raised her camera from afar and captured this moment, immediately posting it to Weibo.

Only a glimpse of slender, pale legs was shown—enough to evoke boundless allure.

Hearing the shutter click nearby, Qin Jue turned to see her manager’s actions. Zhuang Lan simply gave an “OK” gesture.

Got it, boss. I know to send you a copy.

System: “The protagonist is unhappy. Maybe say something comforting?”

Qin Jue: “Lin Yuebai needs me to comfort her? Right now, I’m the villain.” Are you even listening to yourself?

The system wilted, feeling the protagonist’s grievances layer upon layer of negativity, nearly darkening its own mood.

Strangely, the faster Qin Jue massaged, the lower Lin Yuebai’s negativity became, until faint pink bubbles of emotion began surfacing.

How bizarre. The system couldn’t understand it either.

With no interference from the system, Qin Jue leaned down and kissed Lin Yuebai’s knee right in front of everyone.

The faintly medicinal-scented knee was now reddened and warm from the massage. Her flawless, poreless skin made Qin Jue’s soft lips and the tip of her tongue all the more noticeable.

Lin Yuebai: !

Just like a big dog.

Lin Yuebai tried to push her away but couldn’t make too much of a scene in front of the director.

“Stop fooling around.”

Rumors outside claimed Lin Yuebai belonged to President Qin. Now, seeing their closeness, the director was convinced.

Just look at how Qin Jue gazed at Lin Yuebai—as if she wanted to lock her away in her heart.

After wrapping up filming that evening, Lin Yuebai didn’t return home until late. The location was quite a distance from Qin Jue’s residence—at least an hour’s drive.

Once home, Lin Yuebai took a shower first. Noticing light still coming from the study door, she headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Qin Jue was in the study reviewing her inbox.

Jing Xin had submitted evidence of Tao Qiao and Lin Dicai’s child-swapping scheme—some admissible in court, others merely circumstantial, but comprehensive nonetheless.

This was exactly what Qin Jue needed. She called Jing Xin again, estimating she should have landed by now.

The phone rang twice before going unanswered. When she redialed, it showed she had been blocked.

Qin Jue: “…”

Thinking of Jingxin’s personality, Qin Jue couldn’t help but smile again.

Jingxin probably wouldn’t want to have any further contact with her or Lin Yuebai. In Jingxin’s mind, they were likely both terrible people.

Qin Jue packed all the documents and handed them to her lawyer. Standing by the glass window, she enjoyed the night breeze while holding a lemon-flavored lollipop between her fingers.

Humming softly, she let the night air brush against her face. Her phone was on speaker nearby as she discussed business matters.

“Yes, I have a young talent here—good looks, decent fan base. I heard you’ve launched a new sunscreen and are still looking for a spokesperson.”

Qin Jue’s voice was slightly muffled, while the person on the other end spoke clearly.

“Got it. These endorsements are always reserved for people with connections like you.”

Qin Jue chuckled. “Aren’t you aiming for global expansion? I happen to have some resources and channels. I’m not just leveraging connections—our young star can actually make you money.”

After a few more affirmations from the other side, Qin Jue added, “I’ve received the samples. They’re good. Please take care of her.”

The call ended with laughter. Breaking into the domestic cosmetics market was tough—price it too low, and it’s deemed cheap; too high, and you’re accused of ripping people off. Selling abroad seemed easier.

Qin Jue had chosen a brand specializing in classical Chinese aesthetics—not as expensive as top international brands but certainly not cheap. They were currently in need of a spokesperson.

Her mind drifted to Lin Yuebai adorned with a golden phoenix hairpin and pearl tassels, her little moon. A soft smile played on Qin Jue’s lips.

Lin Yuebai suited gold and jade bracelets. She deserved to be pampered in luxury.

A knock sounded at the study door. Qin Jue crunched the last bit of her lollipop and tossed the stick into the trash.

She avoided eating sweets in public—it seemed unprofessional—but indulged privately.

“Finished your shower?”

Lin Yuebai entered with a cup of warm milk and two small pastries.

“Perfect timing. There’s something I wanted to discuss.”

Qin Jue sat cross-legged on the leather sofa, her pajamas revealing pale ankles, unbothered by formalities.

Lin Yuebai’s gaze instinctively dropped to Qin Jue’s feet, checking for any new blisters from high heels before relaxing.

Taking the milk, Qin Jue sipped, then offered some to Lin Yuebai. “I have something to tell you.”

Fresh from her bath, Lin Yuebai wore matching sandalwood-rose scented perfume. Her pink silk pajamas draped loosely over her shoulders, and a white jade bracelet swayed on her slender wrist.

“Go ahead.”

Catching a whiff of sweetness, Lin Yuebai leaned closer, only to be met with another sip of warm milk.

Her throat moved as she met Qin Jue’s amused eyes.

“Your adoptive parents are involved in child trafficking. However, since they didn’t profit from selling children and you were under fourteen at the time, the sentence won’t be severe—likely under five years. The nurse knowingly broke the law but will probably get a lighter sentence, though given her clear medical malpractice, it’ll likely be under three years.”

“Neither is too harsh, but their lives are effectively ruined.”

Qin Jue pulled Lin Yuebai into her embrace, gently nibbling on her earlobe and watching as it gradually flushed red again—she took wicked delight in teasing that delicate flesh.

“Baby, if you want them to get a heavier sentence… I can arrange that.”

Lin Yuebai’s fingers unconsciously tightened around the hem of her nightgown. She wanted to say something, but another sweet pastry was slipped between her lips.

She had originally intended to bring Qin Jue some late-night snacks, but in the end, all of them ended up in her own stomach.

Qin Jue’s hands grew restless, roaming from her waist to her thighs.

Lin Yuebai had no strength to resist, letting Qin Jue feed her pastries, coaxing her lips open to take small bites of cheese before swallowing.

Qin Jue spoke matter-of-factly from behind her, “Since my car was burned, your foster parents are now facing a compensation lawsuit. Their useless son is still a minor, so the guardians will have to pay.”

“From what I can see, aside from a few plots of land and their house, your foster father has already sold off whatever gold jewelry and shops they had left—probably to cover his gambling debts.”

Qin Jue kept murmuring these details, her hands never pausing as she explored Lin Yuebai’s body until the younger woman melted under her touch, her movements just shy of crossing the line.

Lin Yuebai whimpered softly, collapsing against Qin Jue, her stomach finally somewhat satisfied after two more pastries.

Qin Jue stroked her abdomen. “Did you skip dinner again?”

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“Not being hungry isn’t an excuse to skip meals.”

Taking advantage of her half-head height advantage, Qin Jue trapped her in an embrace and began her usual harassment. “You young celebrities rely too much on your youth to push your bodies. Wait till you’re older—aches and pains everywhere. See how you’ll keep earning money then.”

Qin Jue nipped at the back of her neck, brushing her hair aside. “Baby, I got you a sunscreen endorsement. The brand will contact you in a few days for a livestream. Not even a thank you?”

“Thank you, President Qin.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you… Sister.”

Qin Jue grinned. Back when she was building her business, she used to enjoy hearing people call her “Manager” this and “President” that—she never showed it, but it pleased her.

Later, as she met more people, those titles lost their charm. Empty words, after all. Who knew what curses lay behind them?

But when “President Qin” came from Lin Yuebai’s lips, it carried an unexpected sincerity.

“Since you’re calling me ‘Sister,’ of course I’ll take care of you.”

Qin Jue continued her fondling, eventually carrying her to the bedroom. “I have a meeting later. Sleep first.”

Lin Yuebai, still flushed from her touch, was abruptly left alone, her expression dazed.

Her voice came out hoarse. “You’re not staying?”

Qin Jue paused at the doorway. “I’ve already reported your foster parents’ case. The trial will likely start next month. Want to go?”

Lin Yuebai didn’t want to discuss it. “If they’re just foster parents, then they’re not my concern.”

Her temper flared again, and she buried her face in the pillow, refusing to look at Qin Jue—though her toes wiggled restlessly outside the blanket. She knew Qin Jue’s sleeping habits: if she spotted a stray hand or foot, she’d tuck it back under the covers.

Sure enough, Qin Jue grasped her ankle. “Stop moving.”

Lin Yuebai, feeling petty, deliberately squirmed more the moment she was told not to—until she was pinned firmly against the mattress, finally still.

Qin Jue felt a gentle kiss land on her cheek, followed by her fingers being unexpectedly drawn into a warm mouth, moistened, then guided beneath the blankets.

“You’ve fed my stomach, sister, but other parts of me still hunger.”

Lin Yuebai wasn’t skilled at acting coy. She thought herself clever, but her little tricks were transparent to Qin Jue’s eyes.

Qin Jue couldn’t handle her taking the initiative, her heart softening at the thought of letting her rest tonight—those poor knees were already reddened again from kneeling.

Lin Yuebai’s scorching lips pressed against Qin Jue’s ear, “I know you’re busy with countless affairs. Hurry up and finish, you might still make it to your meeting.”

“Come on, show me some tenderness.”

…

In the end, Qin Jue didn’t attend last night’s meeting.

The next morning, she slept until the sun was high before rising. When she awoke, Lin Yuebai still slumbered.

Her delicate face buried in Qin Jue’s chest, she emitted soft, kitten-like murmurs at the movement beside her before turning to bury her head deeper into the blankets.

Fearing she might suffocate, Qin Jue pulled a corner of the blanket aside to let in fresh air.

Lin Yuebai hadn’t gotten enough sleep during her growing years—now grown, she was making up for lost time.

Zhong Yi stood in the reception room, reporting as Qin Jue approached:

“The Jing family sent gifts, saying they wanted to make up for all of Miss Lin’s birthdays from age one to twenty.”

Qin Jue’s gaze fell upon the pile of exquisitely wrapped gift boxes in the corner—each carefully selected and numbered to represent every missed year.

Blinking at the dazzling array of golden and multicolored decorations, Qin Jue nodded and said,

“Let Lin Yuebai see them when she wakes.”

Zhong Yi hesitated, then sighed.

In the kitchen, Qin Jue prepared congee. Lin Yuebai preferred light flavors, disliking raw or cold foods and Western breakfasts. Qin Jue fried two youtiao sticks, brewed a bowl of soy milk, and steamed vegetable and meat buns—all made by her own hands during free moments and stored in the freezer, never delegated to others.

Before transmigrating into this novel, Qin Jue had enjoyed cooking, though limited time and lack of someone to share meals with often left her reluctantly discarding full tables of food.

Now with Lin Yuebai, her life felt more complete.

“Speak your mind.”

“Madam Zhang called saying Jing Xin can’t be reached.”

Zhong Yi delivered this news with some unease—why would her family come to Qin Jue’s secretary about their mistaken daughter going missing?

She kept this thought unvoiced, though her displeasure showed in her expression.

Qin Jue: “I don’t know where she is. Probably feeling awkward—she’ll return after wandering awhile.”

Qin Jue guessed the Jing family felt too embarrassed to approach her directly today, resorting to indirect inquiries through her associates.

After breakfast preparations, Qin Jue fed the fish while checking Weibo:

MoonlightShinesOnMe: Little Moon’s heart is wounded, my heart aches for her.

MoonlightShinesOnMe: That dance with Little Moon—the hand you reached for looked so perfect together. Your relationship must be wonderful.

MoonlightShinesOnMe: The filming must be exhausting QWQ

Even the system couldn’t take it: “Host, your current behavior isn’t just split-personality disorder—it’s borderline creepy.”

Qin Jue: “…”

System: “Though the protagonist must be furious about you two being publicly linked.”

Qin Jue: “Yes, to complete your mission, I dragged the protagonist out again last night to torment her. She’s probably so angry now she won’t even get out of bed to eat. I’ll bring breakfast upstairs to her later.”

The system felt somewhat distressed: “Although I arranged for you to bully the protagonist, you shouldn’t go overboard. I’ve detected muscle strains all over her body, and now she can’t move at all.”

The system added: “Every misdeed comes with consequences. Well, I know you’re not truly a bad person. When the protagonist comes to kill you, I’ll enable pain-free mode for you.”

Qin Jue thanked it, thinking the system was adorably naive.

The system quietly sneaked to the steamer and stole half a bun. Qin Jue let it eat the whole thing.

Lin Yuebai, despite feeling unwell, forced herself to attend filming. In the afternoon, Zhuang Lan took her to shoot a commercial for a coffee machine.

Zhuang Lan walked ahead, instructing: “This brand’s coffee machines sell well both domestically and internationally. Hand-brewed coffee is trending now. This model comes in commercial and home versions—you’re endorsing the home version. They’re planning to focus on e-commerce platforms soon. I’ll get you a splash screen ad on one of those platforms.”

Lin Yuebai followed obediently, listening attentively and nodding in agreement.

Zhuang Lan settled her in front of the makeup mirror and gave instructions to the makeup artist: “Use more concealer to cover her neck and shoulders properly. She had an allergic reaction last night.”

The makeup artist wasn’t blind—she could clearly see these weren’t allergy marks. But she nodded seriously, playing the role of a mute.

As the red marks left by Qin Jue’s antics gradually disappeared under layers of concealer, Lin Yuebai felt displeased. She remained still for the makeup application, closing her eyes and parting her lips for lipstick and eyeshadow.

Zhuang Lan mentioned Jing Xin’s situation beside her. The Jing family, too embarrassed to approach Qin Jue directly, had instead contacted her as the manager.

“You’re saying Jing Xin left the industry?”

Lin Yuebai was surprised. In her view, Jing Xin had always been an arrogant, aggressive person who would throw tantrums at the slightest dissatisfaction, making no effort to maintain even superficial harmony.

“I heard she went to Europe to study art intensively, opened a small gallery. Seems she doesn’t plan to return to China for years.”

Zhuang Lan sighed, wanting to say Jing Xin’s actions were rather foolish. She’d only recently learned about Lin Yuebai’s background, and online speculation had already spawned multiple trending topics.

After being primped by the makeup artist and changed into an elegant blouse and long skirt, Lin Yuebai stood beside the gleaming coffee machine in the studio, surrounded by harsh lighting.

Leaning against the set in her red-soled high heels—beautiful but painfully uncomfortable—Lin Yuebai shifted her weight uncomfortably before remembering Qin Jue’s own reddened feet.

And the stockings she’d torn apart.

Distracted, Lin Yuebai took several unsuccessful shots before finding the right expression. After adjusting for a few minutes, she reassembled her professional smile.

…

In the conference room, Qin Jue was equally distracted.

Li Shilai probed: “…We can renegotiate the profit sharing.”

Observing Qin Jue’s hesitant expression, Li Shilai watched as she leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. Though she appeared engaged in the meeting, her thoughts had clearly wandered far away.

The system’s voice echoed in Qin Jue’s mind: “In a few days, it’ll be Jing Yuanjie’s 50th birthday, and he plans to make it a grand celebration. In the original plot, the antagonist couldn’t bear to see the protagonist rise to prominence, so she publicly splashed wine on her in front of everyone.”

Qin Jue: “Alright, but my ending—getting slapped a few times by Lin Yuebai and then being hit by a car—seems too lenient for me.”

The system: “You’re right. I could arrange a more gruesome death for you if you’d like. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

Qin Jue: “…”

Last night, Qin Jue had been so entangled with Lin Yuebai that she couldn’t even leave the bed. Every time she tried to stop, Lin Yuebai would hook her ankle, pulling her back. Despite being utterly exhausted, Lin Yuebai would still press closer, kissing her neck and guiding Qin Jue’s hands with reckless abandon. In the end, Qin Jue had no choice but to make Lin Yuebai finish herself off while she watched, occasionally offering a few teasing instructions.

By the time Lin Yuebai was reduced to tears, Qin Jue mercilessly silenced her with a kiss.

A faint smile played at the corners of Qin Jue’s lips.

Li Shilai, noticing Qin Jue’s smile, felt a chill run down her spine. “The prototype for the vocabulary device is ready. Now we just need marketing. I recently registered a new brand focusing on water filters, power strips, and electric fans—they’re selling well in Africa. Business there was tough before due to strong local competition, but after following your advice, I held a few meetings with the local players. Fortunately, we already have some overseas footholds, so capturing that market won’t be a problem.”

Once she started talking business, Li Shilai couldn’t stop. Over the years, manufacturing for foreign brands had brought in meager profits—nothing compared to the rapid growth of having their own brand.

Still, they owed much to those foreign brands outsourcing production to them. With technological advancements slowing down, many of these brands had lost their R&D capabilities, leaving intricate manufacturing to domestic factories—like the coffee machine endorsed by the “young talent” Qin Jue had brought in.

Though it seemed like a simple machine, it was packed with complexities, boasting over a dozen patents. Only Qin Jue’s factory could produce it flawlessly.

“Qin Jue, what exactly are you planning? I can see your ambitions stretch far beyond quick profits.”

“I don’t have any plans,” Qin Jue replied, sipping her tea with a faint smile.

“Bullshit.”

“Really, I don’t. But if I had to say… my family doesn’t approve of me marrying a woman.”

Li Shilai was momentarily confused before remembering—on the surface, Qin Jue was the sole heir of the Qin family, but in reality, the current patriarch had an illegitimate child outside.

After Qin Jue’s mother passed, much of her inheritance went to Qin Jue, but her father had never been content. The illegitimate child was around Qin Jue’s age, proving he had been unfaithful while Qin Jue’s mother was still alive.

“If the elders find out I intend to marry a woman, it could harm my little one’s career. Many brands might cut ties with me.”

Li Shilai was at a loss for words. Damn, Qin Jue thinks way too far ahead. She and Lin Yuebai haven’t even been dating for long, and she’s already worrying about marriage and protecting the kid from backlash.

Other rich second-generation heirs might have 1% brains and 99% rebelliousness, but Li Shilai estimated the woman leisurely sipping tea before her had 99% lovestruck foolishness and 1% clarity.

Qin Jue didn’t waste words with her. After discussing business prospects in Africa with Li Shilai, she secured a 30% stake in the venture.

The system reminded her: “This is just a story world. You don’t need to work so hard on career-building.”

Qin Jue countered: “If Lin Yuebai ever falls out of love with me and starts hating me, can I use money to win her back?”

The system said, “Have you forgotten you’re supposed to be the villain who bullies the protagonist with money?”

Qin Jue replied, “Then after I die, let our poor little Moon hold piles of cash and cry alone.”

Her tone was casual when speaking to the system, as if she wasn’t worried about dying at all, or perhaps didn’t care. Before transmigrating into this novel, she’d been too busy with work and had too many concerns. Now she allowed herself some recklessness, all directed toward Lin Yuebai.

The black sedan stopped downstairs as a light drizzle began outside. Lin Yuebai stood under the eaves to avoid the rain, the last person remaining in the area. Spotting Qin Jue’s car, she hurried over and slipped inside.

She carried a faint scent of coffee.

“Your father’s birthday is in a few days,” Qin Jue said, taking a bottle of liquor from the storage compartment. “What kind of alcohol do you prefer?”

Lin Yuebai assumed Qin Jue wanted to gift it to her father. “You should ask what my father likes, not me. Sorry, I wouldn’t know—we’ve never spent time together.”

Qin Jue simply smiled, since this drink was actually meant for Lin Yuebai herself. She hoped the intended recipient would like it at least a little.