Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 4

A lucrative contract lay on the table—no one could resist such an offer.

Lin Yuebai’s grip on the fountain pen tightened again and again. Her family had been constantly demanding money from her. Truthfully, her parents hadn’t spent much raising her. Before she even reached adulthood, she had been taken to a training camp to prepare for her debut, and all expenses during that period had been covered by the company. So once she started earning, she had to repay the company first.

The rest of her earnings had been invested in an unreleased TV series.

And the remainder… had been handed over to the woman sitting across from her by her manager.

Probably all spent on alcohol and parties.

Lin Yuebai wanted to force a mocking smile, but when her eyes landed on the price listed in the contract, she found herself unable to summon any sarcasm.

She was truly desperate for money.

She wanted to terminate her contract.

Lin Yuebai: “What are your conditions?”

Qin Jue could see the unwillingness and wariness on her face, yet amidst all the negative emotions, there was also a faint trace of relief.

No matter what, she remained guarded, never allowing herself to be swallowed by anything seemingly tempting.

This was a trait Qin Jue had always admired in her.

Qin Jue’s gaze shifted to the chair beside her. “Have breakfast first.”

Lin Yuebai’s frail constitution made seafood unsuitable for her. Instead, before her lay a steaming bowl of century egg and lean pork congee, a small cup of soy milk, and a tea egg.

Her body was tense, her eyes filled with vigilance, but the rich aroma of the congee was impossible to resist.

Each fragrant wisp invaded her nostrils, stirring her empty stomach.

As if deliberately betraying her resolve, her stomach let out two embarrassing growls—soft, yet deafening in the quiet dining room.

Lin Yuebai’s face instantly flushed crimson. She bit her lower lip, then finally picked up the bowl, bringing a spoonful of hot congee to her lips.

The century egg had been cooked to translucency, the lean pork tender and not the least bit dry. Qin Jue rested her chin on one hand, watching as the girl beside her spooned mouthful after mouthful of congee into her mouth.

The original novel hadn’t described Lin Yuebai eating with such relish.

Then Qin Jue remembered—Lin Yuebai had an eating disorder. Her management had strictly controlled her diet, never allowing her even a single extra calorie.

Even after escaping their control, she still ate very little.

Halfway through the meal, Lin Yuebai’s back suddenly stiffened as if struck by something. Her movements halted abruptly, and she stopped eating the remaining congee.

Her hand froze mid-air, her eyes wide with terror. Her stomach began convulsing violently, as if what she had swallowed wasn’t carefully prepared congee but gut-rotting poison.

Her stomach churned. Lin Yuebai covered her mouth, desperate to vomit.

“Cough! Cough! Cough!”

But perhaps her body knew better than to waste such precious food—nothing came up.

Qin Jue watched as the faint color that had just returned to Lin Yuebai’s face drained away, leaving her deathly pale.

The system in her mind piped up, “In the original plot, Qin Jue knew Lin Yuebai had a weak stomach and deliberately forced her to eat greasy food during a business dinner. After making her swallow grilled lamb chops, she made the protagonist vomit until she passed out.”

The system was awestruck. Even without its prompts, the host was flawlessly following the script.

Out of nowhere, the system conjured two tiny fans in Qin Jue’s mind, waving them around as if celebrating an imminent victory.

Qin Jue: “…”

Qin Jue handed over a cup of warm water. “If you don’t want to eat, then don’t.”

Lin Yuebai said guiltily, “I’m sorry. My manager is very strict about my weight. I have to weigh myself every day, and if I exceed it, I’m forbidden from eating.”

A trace of embarrassment flashed through Lin Yuebai’s eyes.

The pork and preserved egg congee was delicious—more so than all the food she’d ever eaten combined.

How ironic. In just one night, she’d begun to trust this woman who had intended to take advantage of her.

At this moment, Lin Yuebai didn’t realize she resembled a little kitten hiding in a corner, its fur puffed up in alarm.

Yowling in fright while secretly hoping someone would pat its head.

Perhaps it was because Qin Jue’s gaze was too indulgent and gentle, but the cramps in Lin Yuebai’s stomach miraculously eased.

She picked up the spoon and finished the remaining congee.

Well, she’d already exceeded her weight limit. Might as well eat since it was there.

Qin Jue sipped her warm milk unhurriedly. “I’ve already spoken to your agency. You’re no longer under your manager’s supervision. I’ll find you a more suitable one.”

Lin Yuebai’s eyes suddenly brightened.

Like a cat hearing its owner open a can of food.

Knowing when to stop, Qin Jue tapped the table, telling her to sign the contract after eating.

“It’s getting late. I have to go to work. A driver will take you back to the dorms.”

Putting down her empty milk glass, Qin Jue left without another word, leaving Lin Yuebai alone at the table, lost in thought.

She just… left?

Made no demands.

Didn’t lay a finger on her.

None of the offensive behavior she’d expected. It was as if making her stand outside in the rain all night had genuinely been an accident—that Qin Jue had truly forgotten she was still out there.

Even the medicine in the middle of the night had been jarringly kind.

Lin Yuebai wasn’t naive enough to think Qin Jue was a good person.

But when she saw the lipstick endorsement contract, she couldn’t exactly call her a villain without morals either.

Lin Yuebai sipped her soy milk in small mouthfuls, her stomach full for the first time in ages.

Maybe President Qin wasn’t as indiscriminate as people said, fond of bloodshed and throwing her weight around.

Opening Weibo, Lin Yuebai found all the negative news about her had been suppressed, replaced by a statement from Stellar Entertainment.

Stellar wasn’t the agency Lin Yuebai was signed to—it was a top-tier company in the industry. They shouldn’t have had any reason to intervene, but she’d heard the Qin family’s investments were extensive, including in Stellar Entertainment.

Lin Yuebai wasn’t stupid. When Qin Jue mentioned changing her manager, she’d guessed her agency might be next.

What exactly did she want?

…

Meanwhile, the system in Qin Jue’s mind was cheering.

“Perfect! You insulted Lin Yuebai with money and contracts. She must hate you to death now—probably wants to stab you in the stomach twice.”

Qin Jue: “…”

In the car, Qin Jue flipped through Lin Yuebai’s detailed medical report. The family doctor had drawn bl00d yesterday, and the hospital had just released the results.

Lin Yuebai’s body could only be described as riddled with holes. She was still young, but if she stayed in the entertainment industry for a few more years, her health would undoubtedly collapse.

Qin Jue’s fingers brushed over the paper, her long lashes veiling the depth of her thoughts.

The System: “In the original novel, Qin Jue didn’t want her newly acquired toy living in the dormitory, out of her control. So, every night, she would lurk outside Lin Yuebai’s dorm building to harass her, belittling her living conditions to fuel the protagonist’s ambition—making her determined to live a life above others someday!”

The System’s cheerful electronic voice bounced around inside Qin Jue’s mind.

It was grating.

As a wealthy heiress who lacked for nothing, Qin Jue didn’t need to work at a company. The most exhausting part of her day was deciding which minor celebrity to harass or where to indulge in pleasure.

But Qin Jue wasn’t the type to rest on her laurels. After reading the original novel, she didn’t believe the antagonist had no worries at all.

Rather than being just a spoiled rich kid, Qin Jue wanted to consolidate all available resources in her hands.

She held shares in several entertainment companies, giving her significant influence in the industry—perfect for leveraging existing resources for investments and casting decisions.

For instance, she knew Lin Yuebai’s upcoming drama would be a hit.

There was still time to invest in its promotion.

Qin Jue’s mind drifted back to the girl who had been covering her mouth, retching.

With a weak stomach and no appetite, she probably weighed no more than eighty pounds—just skin and bones.

She really ought to be fed better.

……

Lin Yuebai returned to her leaky dormitory.

Perhaps because she was mired in scandals and her agency saw no value in her, she had been assigned a terrible dorm after her team disbanded.

The moment she pushed open the door, a musty odor assaulted her. The dim overhead light flickered weakly, swaying as if it might go out at any moment.

Lin Yuebai seemed accustomed to it. She bent down to clean the floor, noticing the large water stains spreading across the walls. Last night’s heavy rain had seeped through, causing the plaster to peel and hang in ragged strips. In some spots, the rough cement beneath showed through at the slightest touch.

If she terminated her contract now, she’d have to pay a hefty penalty. But if her drama aired successfully and the remaining savings hadn’t been squandered by that CEO Qin, she could afford to break free.

For now, though… Lin Yuebai could only pin her hopes on Qin Jue.

Her phone buzzed on the table. Without looking, Lin Yuebai knew it was her parents again, demanding money.

She had already repaid every expense from her upbringing, yet they persisted in harassing her—likely assuming she was rolling in wealth after entering the entertainment industry.

The broom scraped across the damp floor, her slippers sticking to something unpleasantly tacky—whether from the seeping walls or some other grime, she couldn’t tell.

Lin Yuebai kept her head down as she swept, unaware of the deepening darkness outside.

A lone streetlamp stood below the building when a car horn suddenly blared in her ears.

Soon after, the click of high heels echoed through the corridor before the wooden door was kicked open.

Qin Jue stood there, a small cake in hand, her brows arched in disdain as she surveyed the room. Everything about it seemed to offend her, as though it were beneath her very gaze.

“So this is where you live? I’d have thought the former leader of Aurora—last year’s hottest idol group—would be in a luxury apartment or a villa. Who knew you’d end up in this slum?”

The insult dripped from Qin Jue’s lips, laced with an unsettling gentleness.

It didn’t make Lin Yuebai feel embarrassed, but rather made people worry that the unclean ground would dirty the soles of her shoes.

“Come out.”