Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 45

Qin Jue’s seductive attitude was too obvious to ignore.

Her phone, face down on the table, rang twice before she hung up and flipped it back over.

“I know you’re angry.”

Qin Jue crooked her finger, and Lin Yuebai instinctively walked over, pressing her cheek into Qin Jue’s palm.

The girl in her hand nuzzled against her skin like a hungry fledgling.

“I’m not angry,” Lin Yuebai muttered. “It’s not like I have much going for me besides my face. My acting only works when the role fits me—nothing worth praising.”

Her words were humble, but her demeanor wasn’t.

Her teachers praised her talent and intuition, directors lauded her efficiency in nailing scenes in one take, and even Qin Jue herself had said she was destined for stardom.

Lin Yuebai had simply been spoiled into being delicate.

Her peach-blossom eyes glistening, she looked up at Qin Jue, fingers trailing down to her calf.

“Your skin’s a little cold,” she murmured.

The collar around Qin Jue’s neck connected to a silver chain that swayed between them. Lin Yuebai’s fingers tangled with its end.

“Are you apologizing to me?”

Her eyes shone like obsidian dipped in winter snowmelt. “I wasn’t unhappy.”

She kissed Qin Jue’s palm, then her knee, sighing as Qin Jue’s fingers carded gently through her hair.

“I was the one who misspoke. I’m sorry.”

Her fingers lingered on Qin Jue’s calf before freezing. She had never imagined Qin Jue would apologize to her.

Someone like Qin Jue shouldn’t have to.

The beautiful girl bit down on the lace garter around Qin Jue’s thigh with her teeth. “Mmph—”

“Are you a puppy?”

The overhead light was blinding. Qin Jue lifted her onto the couch, where Lin Yuebai settled onto her lap, tugging lightly at the chain.

“Qin Jue hasn’t wronged me. Qin Jue could never wrong me… really.”

Her eagerness left Qin Jue helpless. She had planned to make it up to her today, but Lin Yuebai had taken matters into her own hands—literally.

“I know the difference between praise and criticism,” Lin Yuebai gasped, her voice wavering between pain and pleasure.

“What you said was the truth. Without your help, I—”

Her words fragmented as Qin Jue kissed away the tears at the corners of her eyes.

“Shh.”

Qin Jue silenced her. “Say my name. Don’t talk about irrelevant things now.”

Like the gentlest mentor, she guided the girl in her arms into adulthood.

“You’re doing so well.”

Leaning back against the couch, Qin Jue let Lin Yuebai’s teeth roam her neck, leaving a trail of red marks. The chain around her throat was tugged intermittently, each pull sending heat coursing through her.

She really had upset her.

Qin Jue fed the end of the silver chain between Lin Yuebai’s teeth.

“Don’t cry anymore. You’ll hurt your throat.”

Lin Yuebai only whimpered harder.

Just who was apologizing to whom here?!

Qin Jue was swamped with work, and it was already past midnight by the time she managed to soothe Lin Yuebai. Leaning against the bedside, she pulled out her laptop to continue working while Lin Yuebai slept beside her, half her face buried in the pillow, one hand clutching the hem of Qin Jue’s clothes.

“Don’t go.”

Qin Jue gently stroked her hair. “I’m not going. I’m just working. Sleep first.”

Lin Yuebai was already asleep, instinctively seeking closeness to the person she relied on.

Rubbing her temples, Qin Jue finished reviewing her tasks and drafted the month’s work plan before finally closing her laptop and setting it on the nightstand.

The next day, in the bedroom.

Qin Jue woke up late, fumbling for her phone by the bedside. The time showed she was nearly late for work.

Lin Yuebai was curled up beside her, still asleep. Qin Jue had been restrained the night before, leaving no marks on her.

“Awake?”

“There’s an audition with the director today. I need to go to the set. President Qin, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Lin Yuebai.”

“What’s wrong?”

Lin Yuebai propped herself up with some difficulty, her waist sore from yesterday’s recklessness.

Qin Jue was merciless—she’d wait until Lin Yuebai could barely move before finally exerting some effort to hold her.

“I’ve told you many times,” Qin Jue said, lying flat on the bed, her eyes still drowsy. Last night, Lin Yuebai had clung to her like an octopus in her sleep, as clingy as a child.

Qin Jue felt like she’d been beaten up in the middle of the night.

“Call me by my name.”

Lin Yuebai, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiled, then suddenly leaned over and planted a kiss on Qin Jue’s cheek before scampering off.

Qin Jue: “…”

Qin Jue’s stockings lay in tatters on the floor, her collar undone by Lin Yuebai and placed beside her awards like trophies.

Qin Jue: “…” They were Lin Yuebai’s trophies.

System: “Aaaaaah!”

The System emerged from the depths of Qin Jue’s mind with a shrill scream.

System: “You bullied the protagonist again last night! You’re inhuman!”

Qin Jue thought she was the one who’d been bullied. Little Moon had claimed she wasn’t angry, yet she’d left bite marks all over Qin Jue, torn her stockings to shreds with her nails, and in the end, kissed her so clumsily she’d split Qin Jue’s lip.

It was still swollen.

Qin Jue: “Well, as a villain, I’m self-aware.”

Qin Jue: “It’s precisely because I tirelessly bully Lin Yuebai that she landed the lead role in The Conspiracy.”

System: “That’s not the same thing!”

Qin Jue: “Think about it carefully.”

The System pondered and realized that every time the villain tormented the protagonist, the protagonist’s career soared—perfectly aligning with the original novel’s upward spiral structure.

The System fell into deep thought. “But—but in the original story, the villain never had censored scenes with the protagonist! The protagonist was flawless!”

Qin Jue: “Now she’s slightly flawed. What a shame.”

She didn’t want to be the villain. She wanted to be the stepping stone on Lin Yuebai’s path to success, to lift her to the same radiant heights as in the original story.

Perhaps because… this kid was just too endearing.

Qin Jue stepped out of the bedroom to find Lin Yuebai had already prepared breakfast—two sandwiches on a plate with a cup of coffee and a glass of warm milk.

Lin Yuebai pushed the warm milk toward Qin Jue. “I know you don’t like coffee.”

Qin Jue took a sip. “Did you add honey?”

Lin Yuebai: “It was a gift someone gave Professor Yang, and she passed it to me. Smelled nice, so I thought you might like it.”

She avoided looking at the red marks on Qin Jue’s neck. Last night, she had been too rough, going beyond the usual playfulness of a “little canary” and actually hurting her patron.

But since Qin Jue didn’t bring it up, she pretended not to notice.

If Qin Jue did mention it, she’d just play dumb.

Qin Jue drank half the milk and finished the sandwich. Lin Yuebai had been about to reach for the iced Americano, but Qin Jue took it instead.

“Your stomach isn’t great. No coffee in the morning.”

Before transmigrating, Qin Jue had been used to drinking iced Americanos—sometimes four or five cups a day when work got busy. Eventually, her heart started racing so badly she felt like she was dying.

She fished out a box of mint candies from her stained coat pocket and tossed it to Lin Yuebai.

“Take one if you’re tired. Won’t hurt your throat, and it’ll give you a quick boost.”

Truthfully, Qin Jue was the one who needed the energy. She shook one into her palm and handed the rest to Lin Yuebai.

“This brand’s mints are good. I’ve got a passionfruit-flavored box too—I’ll bring it next time.”

Lin Yuebai accepted the mints with both hands, feeling like their life together was starting to resemble that of an old married couple.

“You tore my clothes last night. I’ve got a meeting today, so I’ll grab something from your closet.”

Qin Jue was tall and lean, her figure like a clothes hanger, with clear signs of disciplined fitness. She rummaged through Lin Yuebai’s wardrobe and picked out a black-and-white suit with a gray dress shirt and slacks.

“I’ll head out first. My secretary will pick you up later for the set.”

Just as Qin Jue was about to leave, someone called out to her.

“Hey, wait!”

Lin Yuebai set down her half-eaten sandwich and hurried over, cheeks flushed. She pulled a scarf from the coat rack and wrapped it around Qin Jue’s neck.

“Your neck has…”

She didn’t dare look at Qin Jue’s expression. Her fingers were caught, and Qin Jue smirked.

“Has what?”

Lin Yuebai’s mind blared like a train whistle. “It has… a collar and my bite marks. I don’t want others seeing them.”

“Control yourself! Don’t tempt me next time—I couldn’t hold back…”

The once-timid “canary” had grown bolder. She adjusted the scarf for her “older sister” and practically shoved her out the door.

“Go to work. Earn lots of money…” So you can spend it on me.

The door slammed shut behind her, and Qin Jue’s mood brightened instantly. She stepped into the morning light with a smile.

Qin Jue said to the system, “See? The protagonist hates me. If she didn’t, why would she have yanked my collar so hard last night that I could barely breathe?”

The system suspected its host was lying, but it had no proof.

“Really?”

“Really. Want to see the evidence of her resistance?”

The system shook its head like a rattle drum. “No way.”

Qin Jue sighed. What a shame.

Her secretary’s car was waiting outside. She slid into the back seat of the business vehicle, reaching into her pocket to feel for something inside.

This piece of clothing belonged to Lin Yuebai, and the items in the pocket could only be hers.

In Qin Jue’s palm was a crumpled receipt.

On it were hastily scribbled times and dates, with a single name written repeatedly in the margins.

Qin Jue, Qin Jue, Qin Jue…

It was the name Lin Yuebai had unconsciously written while on the phone with someone.

She had written Qin Jue’s name.

Qin Jue chuckled softly to herself, smoothed out the receipt, and tucked it into her bag.

Qin Jue had spent most of the day in meetings, her system drowsy in her mind.

System: “Mission incoming.”

Qin Jue appeared fully engrossed in the meeting, occasionally spinning her pen in thought. “Go ahead.”

The film Qin Jue had invested in for Lin Yuebai, Conspiracy, was also described in detail in the original novel. With this movie, Lin Yuebai won her first Best Actress award and walked the red carpet for the first time.

This was only the beginning of her illustrious career.

But this beginning wasn’t exactly pleasant, as it was overshadowed by the schemes of the antagonist.

System: “As the film’s investor, you have the authority to decide the cast, including the lead. You know how important this movie is for her, so…”

Qin Jue conversed with a blue-eyed, blond German across from her, her Russian pronunciation smooth and rhythmic.

Qin Jue: “Continue.”

System: “You were in a meeting earlier—I didn’t want to disrupt your train of thought.”

Qin Jue: “My brain can handle two things at once. Speak.”

The system was thoroughly impressed. This woman was terrifyingly capable—and terrifying, period.

“In the Conspiracy set, there are numerous prison scenes built with real materials. The locks can’t be opened without keys. The antagonist, unwilling to let the lead slip from her control, deliberately locks her in the deepest cell. When the crew is gone, she enters the cell and handcuffs the lead.”

Outwardly, Qin Jue negotiated business matters; inwardly, she responded seamlessly to the system.

“Go on.”

“Then she takes photos of the lead, helpless and immobilized, intending to sell them online to ruin her reputation—to keep her trampled in the mud forever. Fortunately, the lead is still the protagonist after all. She ultimately thwarts the antagonist, snatches her phone, and discovers it already contains several private photos of herself.”

Qin Jue’s phone held no private photos of Lin Yuebai, though it did have a few close-ups of her face.

Qin Jue found any act of secretly taking intimate photos utterly contemptible.

Stabbing someone in the back when they’ve placed complete trust in you was despicable.

Qin Jue: “Dying in a car crash is too merciful for the antagonist.”

The system nodded in agreement. “I think so too. Don’t worry, I’ll make it painless for you, you scumbag.”

Qin Jue: “…”

After seeing off the client, Qin Jue leaned back in her chair and pulled out her phone to scroll through Weibo.

@LinYuebai: “Say goodbye to vocabulary anxiety—a learning tool that helps you memorize efficiently even during 10-minute breaks…”

Below was a nine-grid photo set.

The girl sat at a high school desk, draped in a beige cardigan over a white blouse, a navy-blue pleated skirt accentuating her already luminous fair skin.

Lin Yuebai wasn’t the exuberant type. Simply sitting there quietly, she resembled cherry blossoms swaying in the spring breeze outside the window.

It brings to mind that quiet, top-performing student every class has, as if a pink love letter were tucked away in her desk drawer.

“Ahhh, it’s JK Little Moon!”

“Instant buy!!”

“Ahhhh our school is using this now, even our teachers have decided—so awesome.”

“Second to last row by the window, the throne of kings—perfect for our Little Moon.”

“Such a pure schoolgirl vibe, how can she be this adorable, wuwu”

“Buying it, straight up buying it all.”

“Our Little Moon is a real academic ace—she scored really well on the college entrance exams. If only she hadn’t been held back by that previous company…”

“Teacher, I want puppy love now~”

“Bet this outfit was picked by her best friend.”

“Best friend came through, fashionably late.”

Qin Jue liked two of the comments below.

Moonlight Shines on Me: Little Moon is only 20, this outfit suits her perfectly.

Moonlight Shines on Me: No puppy love allowed, I forbid it.

“Moonlight Shines on Me” was clearly an old fan—her comment section was filled with laughter.

After finishing her daily data analysis, Qin Jue pocketed her phone. “Let’s go complete the mission.”

The system murmured, “Go easy—don’t hurt the protagonist.”

It added, “I’m saying this for your own good. You’re the villain—there’s no happy ending for you. Just complete the mission, no unnecessary actions.”

The system really didn’t want to see pixelation again.

Though it could happily watch cartoons when the censorship blurred the screen, the kind-hearted system still worried about the protagonist’s well-being.

It feared the protagonist might become too demoralized under the villain’s pressure, losing the will to keep striving.

……

“Alright, I’ll do my best.”

Lin Yuebai changed into a shirt splattered with water and fake bl00d—this scene required filming an interrogation under torture.

While modern interrogation methods no longer involve bloody brutality, torture remains the most direct and effective approach.

Lin Yuebai’s hands and legs were tied to a metal chair with rough rope. The interrogator before her had a stern face, a deep frown, and wielded a barbed whip.

Director: “Ms. Lin, thank you for your hard work. Once we finish this scene, we’re done for today.”

Leaning back against the cold, rigid chair, Lin Yuebai felt her back and waist ache from the uncomfortable position.

Already exhausted from Qin Jue’s antics the night before, she could only force herself to stay focused.

To quickly immerse the actors in the scene, the director started with the most emotionally intense interrogation sequence.

Zhuang Lan and Zhong Yi stood together, shaking their heads.

“If President Qin saw this, she’d be heartbroken.”

Zhong Yi: “I already sent her a video. She told me to stop—she gets queasy at the sight of bl00d and said she’s thrown up a few times already.”

Zhuang Lan gave a thumbs-up.

Zhong Yi flipped through tomorrow’s script. The drama hadn’t paired Lin Yuebai with a love interest—all the standout moments centered on her alone. There were a few likable supporting characters, but no romantic subplots.

“Tomorrow’s scene is about turning the tables on the interrogator and escaping—it’ll test her physical skills. I’ll find some reliable stunt coordinators.”

A bucket of cold water splashed onto the spy’s face, drenching her lashes and washing away the bl00d, only to make her look even more disheveled.

Lin Yuebai’s fingers curled in pain, her lips ghostly pale.

With the sound of a whip cutting through the air beside her ear, she writhed in pain as if struck.

Her muscles spasmed unnaturally, her mouth gaping as she gasped for breath. The veins on the back of her hands bulged, and her eyes momentarily lost focus.

So, was the loyalty she clung to even meaningful?

Her mission had been compromised—there was a traitor in her team. During their training at the overseas camp, every member had been a comrade she could trust with her life. So who was it…?

The spy closed her eyes for a moment, the pain nearly making her pass out, only for another bucket of cold water to drench her from head to toe.

“I… I won’t talk…”

She concealed the small hairpin clutched in her hand. She had once said that with rigorous training, even a tiny hairpin could be enough to pick a lock.

Right now, she was simply biding her time.

As soon as the director called “Cut!”, Lin Yuebai was immediately wrapped in a soft blanket.

“Go take a shower, don’t catch a cold.”

The chains from earlier had all been fake—just a tug would make them fall off, no key required.

The previously stern interrogator awkwardly rubbed his nose. “You worked hard, Teacher Lin.”

Lin Yuebai cradled a cup of hot tea in her palms. The room’s heater was turned up high, so she wasn’t cold at all.

She found herself missing Qin Jue.

The sight of the cold chains reminded her of the collar fastened around Qin Jue’s neck.

That woman was so proud, looking down on everyone with disdain—yet in stark contrast, she had willingly buckled a leather collar around her own throat and handed the other end of the leash to Lin Yuebai.

Should she be praised for how bold she played?

A strange sense of satisfaction stirred in Lin Yuebai’s heart.

Right now, she wasn’t Qin Jue’s equal—she couldn’t stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her yet. She still needed Qin Jue to tilt resources her way, to help her grow…

But one day, she would stand beside Qin Jue as an equal.

“Teacher Lin, I’m not sure how to interpret the emotions for my next scene. Could you teach me?”

A minor character hesitantly approached Lin Yuebai, her script already heavily annotated in red ink—clearly, she had put in effort.

Lin Yuebai glanced at her, tightening the towel around herself.

“Sorry, I’m busy right now.”

Without sparing a look at the other’s crestfallen expression, she walked straight to the shower room.

To anyone other than Qin Jue, she was always cold.

If you don’t know how, figure it out yourself. No one is obligated to teach you.

Qin Jue observed this from afar. She crooked a finger, and Zhong Yi quickly approached.

“President Qin?”

Qin Jue: “The crew has worked hard. Tonight, I’ll treat everyone to dinner. No one needs to stay behind on set.”

Zhong Yi nodded in understanding. Today’s work was already wrapping up, and no one would refuse a meal hosted by the investor.

“I need to talk to Yuebai. Take her to the last room at the end.”

“President Qin… there isn’t a room there.”

Zhong Yi’s gaze landed on the prison cell at the far end of the set, a chill running down her spine.

……

After showering and changing into clean, soft long sleeves, Lin Yuebai heard that the investor was treating the entire crew to dinner. She had intended to join, but the moment she stepped out, Zhuang Lan guided her toward the prison set.

All the cameras had already been covered with black cloth. The dim lighting and eerie silence gave her a very bad feeling.

Zhong Yi’s lips twitched as she looked at Lin Yuebai standing inside the prison cell.

“President Qin said she has something to discuss with you. This place is more… secure. Wait here for a while.”

Hearing it was Qin Jue’s request, Lin Yuebai’s expression softened slightly.

“Alright, I understand.”

Zhong Yi left with a complicated expression, turning to lock the cage.

Zhong Yi clasped her hands together and bowed deeply to her several times, nearly prostrating herself in apology.

“Sorry sorry sorry, I’ve offended you.”

President Qin guarded her like the apple of her eye—how could she possibly let her get hurt? Zhong Yi recalled the watch President Qin had asked her to order for Lin Yuebai. Even if she started working from the Western Zhou Dynasty and saved every penny without eating or drinking, she still couldn’t afford it.

Rich people are so wicked! Absolutely wicked!

Inside the metal cage, it wasn’t completely empty. A cold pair of handcuffs lay at Lin Yuebai’s feet.

Lin Yuebai raised an eyebrow, bent down to pick them up, and obediently clasped them around her wrists.

Just a prop—a little force and they’d snap open.

After everyone had left, Qin Jue, just to be safe, pulled down the rolling shutter outside, ensuring only she and Lin Yuebai remained in the room.

The system was no saint, so Qin Jue had to consider every possibility—she had to eliminate all risks.

In the absolute silence, every sound was amplified. Lin Yuebai heard the click of high heels against the floor.

The girl, her hands bound by the cuffs, stood inside the cage, tilting her head in confusion as she looked at her.

“Qin Jue, could you at least leave me a cushion? My back is killing me.”