Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 61

Qin Jue replied, “I had some matters to attend to during the day.”

Lin Yuebai was clearly unsatisfied with this answer. She pressed her cheek against Qin Jue’s and rubbed it several times.

“You’re lying. You were clearly…”

Lin Yuebai didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she took out a small mirror and showed Qin Jue the aquamarine crown she was wearing on her head.

“I want to give the best things in the world to you, sister.”

Lin Yuebai pressed her hands on Qin Jue’s shoulders, urging her to look at the distant ancient city glittering with lights and the other half of the turbulent, roaring sea.

Qin Jue’s breathing softened as she leaned back on the bench, gazing at the scene Lin Yuebai wanted her to see.

The crown on her head wasn’t light—it sat heavily atop her.

Lin Yuebai wrapped her arms around Qin Jue’s shoulders and kissed her.

The girl’s husky voice trembled slightly, as if uncertain, or perhaps suppressing emotions intense enough to burn.

“I’ll work hard. I want you to never be weighed down by trivial worries again. To me, you should be living the most luxurious life imaginable, not constantly tangled up in the petty affairs of the Qin family.”

Lin Yuebai’s words were gentler than the breeze.

The damp wind brushed against Qin Jue’s cheeks as she clasped Lin Yuebai’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

Qin Jue: “You spent a fortune behind my back. Do you even have savings now?”

She pulled Lin Yuebai to sit beside her, then tugged her closer until the girl was fully leaning against her.

“You only bought things for me? Nothing for yourself?”

Lin Yuebai frowned disapprovingly. “I don’t need these things. I don’t need more attention—I have enough work to solidify my position.”

The moment she finished speaking, it was Qin Jue’s turn to laugh.

Lin Yuebai didn’t understand what was so funny—until, a second later, a tender kiss landed on her wrist.

The dry, soft lips touched the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, sending a shiver through her entire body.

“You’re way too easy to please.”

The sea breeze carried the rustling of trees, making the night sky seem exceptionally serene.

Qin Jue worried Lin Yuebai might catch a cold and began unbuttoning her coat to drape over her. Lin Yuebai refused, stopping Qin Jue’s hands before slipping directly inside her coat instead.

The blushing girl in her arms was unbelievably docile. “I want to help you more.”

Lin Yuebai pressed against Qin Jue’s body, inhaling the complex scent of spices on her.

“Where has President Qin been fooling around? I heard the dancers here are all stunningly beautiful, naturally longer-legged than us Chinese, with gorgeous bronze skin. Could it be that you prefer that type?”

Lin Yuebai bit Qin Jue’s collar, refusing to let go until she got an answer.

Qin Jue tried to pull her away, but the girl clung stubbornly to her clothes like a puppy.

Finally, Qin Jue had no choice but to confess the truth.

Lin Yuebai’s expression shifted several times before she glared at Qin Jue with a strange look.

“So it was you—that half-dead bidder competing against me?”

She frowned at Qin Jue’s half-smirking gaze before eventually turning away in embarrassment.

“And here I thought it was some little brat deliberately targeting me. I cursed her in my head several times.”

Lin Yuebai grumbled as she pulled away from Qin Jue’s embrace, using her sleeve to wipe the damp spot on the fabric where she’d been bitten.

Qin Jue gripped her wrist and said, “Enough, stop fooling around.”

Her eyes were dark and unreadable, hiding any trace of emotion. Lin Yuebai froze, her hand stiffening in place as she looked up at Qin Jue in disbelief.

But Qin Jue only held her wrist tighter and pressed a series of kisses to her lips.

The wind at the mountaintop was too strong, so Qin Jue didn’t dare linger there for long. After driving down, she parked on a deserted street and leaned in to kiss Lin Yuebai’s neck.

“Don’t—President Qin, not here…”

Lin Yuebai’s voice was fractured, on the verge of breaking. The sapphire crown atop Qin Jue’s head still gleamed with its extravagant luster.

“Little Moon gave me such a grand gift. It’s only proper that I return the favor.”

The car seat reclined. Lin Yuebai clutched her skirt tightly, trying in vain to push away the head nestled between her knees.

The windows were tinted—no one could see what was happening inside.

A handkerchief was stuffed between Lin Yuebai’s teeth.

She bit down hard on one corner, not daring to make a single sound.

Only when the energy-draining demon had her fill was Little Moon finally released.

Lin Yuebai draped an arm over her dazed eyes, refusing to look at Qin Jue. Twice, she tried to stop, only to be coaxed into continuing.

In the end, they missed the next day’s shoot.

Fortunately, Qin Jue’s deep pockets covered all the crew’s travel expenses. Far from complaining, the advertising team cheerfully flooded the group chat with thanks.

Ning Peng sat across from Qin Jue, her lips twitching. “Your neck is scratched—should I fetch the first aid kit?”

Qin Jue touched the faint red mark left by fingernails.

“It’s nothing. My cat hasn’t had her claws trimmed. I’ll make sure she’s more careful next time.”

Ning Peng: “…”

She now fully understood the shameless nature of the boss she’d just signed under.

Calling her human would be too generous.

Ning Peng was sipping an overly sweetened coffee—the local brew was decent—when hurried footsteps interrupted her.

Zhong Yi’s face was grim. “Boss, paparazzi caught photos of Lin Yuebai at the auction house yesterday.”

@PassionfruitExtraJuicy: Must be nice being a celeb these days—just casually dropping over 30 mil on a crown while on vacation. Then again, word on the street is she makes more than that in a single day. [Image]

The photo showed a girl holding a half-open velvet box containing a sapphire crown, complete with matching necklace and earrings.

She stood beside a Roman column, gazing at someone’s retreating figure with a faint smile.

A secretary-like woman hovered nearby, scanning for any lurking photographers.

That woman was Zhong Yi.

“I’m gonna lose it—how is this fair?”

“30 mil per day?! Holy sh1t???”

“Side profile kinda looks like Lin Yuebai. She’s always been an enigma—mediocre when she debuted, even had a drama shelved at one point. Then suddenly, after cozying up to some big shot, everything just fell into place.”

“People backed by sponsors have always been like this. I heard from a friend that she’s quite arrogant in private—not an easy person to get along with.”

“Walking around with a permanent scowl, who does she think she’s impressing? Bet she smiles plenty for her sugar daddy though.”

“Okay, now the rumors are getting out of hand. Wasn’t it confirmed she’s close friends with Qin Jue?”

“Oh, you mean that Qin Jue who sent a single email reporting her family’s business to foreign customs for ’employee exploitation and human rights violations’? Sneaky tactics—clearly not a decent person.”

“I just checked Lin Yuebai’s studio account. Apparently, they’re shooting ads in the Americas right now. Heard that hairdryer sells for 800-900 bucks apiece. What a scam—how much of that goes toward buying crowns for this diva?”

“LMAO, acting like royalty without the pedigree. Does a tiara really make you aristocracy?”

Qin Jue frowned as she scrolled through the barrage of vitriolic comments. Though few named names, the snide implications were unmistakable.

Her phone buzzed incessantly—her agent was practically having a meltdown.

Returning the device to Zhong Yi, Qin Jue asked, “Does Lin Yuebai know about this?”

Zhong Yi shook her head. “I didn’t tell her. Ms. Lin doesn’t check her phone during work, but staff might mention it.”

Nodding, Qin Jue said, “Look into that account called ‘Passionfruit Extra Spicy’ for me. Their history shows a pattern of targeting celebrities—probably a professional smear campaign.”

Lin’s fans mobilized counterattacks, while some neutral observers cared only about her looks rather than the product controversy.

“Between us, the paparazzi shots are way better than her studio’s photoshoots.”

Logging into Weibo, Qin Jue posted a photo. Across from her, Ning Peng already sensed trouble brewing.

Ning Peng rubbed his temples. “Managing factory operations while handling entertainment PR? You should leave this to professionals.”

He’d never met anyone like Qin Jue who could seamlessly bridge such disparate responsibilities—her energy was frankly astonishing.

With an apologetic shake of her head, Qin Jue replied, “This actually involves me too. My apologies for the spectacle. I’ll leave domestic sales channels to you. Returning to China in two days—the hairdryer’s selling well overseas at one-third the price of premium brands. We’ll launch a high-end version later—ad campaigns are your domain.”

Ning Peng nodded. “As I should. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my quintuple salary.”

Rising to shake hands, he escorted her to the door, only turning back after her car departed.

The humid air clung unpleasantly—alternating between rain and sunshine. Qin Jue disliked this sticky atmosphere, and her mood turned accordingly sullen, words sparse.

Even her system grew apprehensive. Host, maybe we should stop antagonizing the protagonist this time?

In solitude, Qin Jue’s expressionless face unnerved the system—understandably so.

Her icy glance made the little light orb tremble, shedding luminous particles.

“I’m not smearing Lin Yuebai,” Qin Jue stated. “I’m clearing her name.”

The system was also in a dilemma. “But you’re the villain—how can you clear the protagonist’s name?”

Qin Jue silently stared at the system, which immediately fell silent.

“Anyway, you’re already so wicked. The protagonist must despise you enough—you should know your place.”

The system dared neither criticize Qin Jue nor threaten to electrocute her.

It had finally realized—Qin Jue was simply not someone who could be controlled.

Qin Jue gave the system a squeeze, causing it to shed fur. Eventually, the host’s pinching felt oddly satisfying.

@QinJue: Thanks to Little Moon for the gift. [Image]

In the photo, Qin Jue stood atop a mountain peak, with half of the old city behind her and the other half swallowed by rolling waves. Yet, overhead, a hunting eagle soared across the sky, its massive wings casting a broad shadow.

The woman in the picture stood quietly, her crown merely an embellishment to her aura—as if the extravagant piece owed its worth solely to gracing her presence.

Netizens were witnessing, for the first time, someone whose presence outshone even the most precious jewels.

“Alright, alright—our bestie registered on Weibo overnight just to clear Little Moon’s name.”

“The way bestie looks at me like I’m a dog—I’m totally here for it, thanks.”

“Kinda curious who took the photo.”

“Must be Little Moon herself. Rumor has it paparazzi spotted the crew’s car heading up the mountain, but their vehicles weren’t up to the chase…”

“Even paparazzi value their lives—why poke the bear that is Qin Jue?”

“I’ve been reborn—this time, I’ll be bestie’s loyal dog.”

“Keep your pants on, buddy. Bestie and Little Moon forever.”

Aside from fans flooding in, plenty of trolls and antis came to attack Qin Jue’s post.

Zhuang Lan called Qin Jue in the middle of the night. “Please, stop posting. Isn’t the chaos enough already?”

Qin Jue’s phone lay on the desk, Zhuang Lan’s voice streaming through her earpiece.

She was in the middle of a meeting, with just half an hour left before picking Lin Yuebai up from work.

Her schedule was packed.

From Zhuang Lan’s end, a flurry of foreign languages spilled out—multiple tongues tangled together—with only “Lin Yuebai” standing out in Mandarin.

Amidst her busyness, Qin Jue replied, “Focus on your own work. Don’t mind me.”

Then she hung up.

That same night, giant posters of Lin Yuebai adorned the facades of shopping malls in several neighboring capitals.

The Qin family held influence overseas—even if Europe resisted, other nations wouldn’t refuse.

Qin Jue ordered renovations for the industrial park’s dormitories and raised base salaries. Almost instantly, online backlash quieted, and troublemakers were silenced—some even slapped with legal notices.

The studios behind the smear campaign had sorely underestimated the legal department of an industrial powerhouse.

Once finished, Qin Jue drove to pick Lin Yuebai up.

A local night market sprawled outside, but neither Qin Jue nor Lin Yuebai spoke the dialect. Through gestures and broken speech, they managed to get a bowl of crispy fried fish.

Lin Yuebai trailed behind, silently nibbling on the fish—golden, fragrant, with bones fried to a crisp.

Zhuang Lan used to forbid such street food, but now that she was gone, Lin Yuebai’s appetite remained poor.

Qin Jue waited ahead, watching as Lin Yuebai slowly shuffled toward her.

“What’s wrong? Something on your mind? Or did someone from the shoot bully you?”

Lin Yuebai shook her head, not daring to speak. She knew she’d caused trouble for Qin Jue, her peach-blossom eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The young girl cried silently, wiping her tears as she nibbled on fried fish, the saltiness of her tears mixing with the food.

Qin Jue took her to a well-known local restaurant, securing a table on the rooftop terrace. From here, they could see the distant ancient castle and clock tower behind it.

Just as the clock struck the hour, the chime resonated through the air. Lin Yuebai paid no attention to the vibrant sunset or the local dishes before her, continuously dabbing at her tears.

“President Qin, I know I was wrong,” Lin Yuebai mumbled her apology. This time, she didn’t deliberately brush against Qin Jue’s trousers under the table, nor did she peek to see if there were black stockings underneath.

She sat obediently, hands resting on the table’s edge, the picture of remorse.

Qin Jue frowned slightly. “What exactly were you wrong about?”

She poured Lin Yuebai a glass of the local mixed fruit juice—something tart at first, but with a sweet aftertaste.

Lin Yuebai confessed, “I shouldn’t have gone to the auction unprepared and acted on my own.”

Qin Jue remained silent.

Lin Yuebai continued, “I was greedy. I wanted to prove myself to you, to make you see me in a better light.”

She berated herself for overestimating her abilities, for being unrealistic, even for being impulsive and failing to stay grounded.

While filming the ad, she had accidentally seen someone scrolling through Weibo. The person quickly tucked their phone away, offering an awkward smile before leaving.

During a break, Lin Yuebai had secretly checked the online rumors. People were spreading lies that she earned over thirty million for the shoot, when in reality, she had only received a few thousand for travel expenses.

Gong Man’s original offer hadn’t been low, but Lin Yuebai, thinking of the Qin family’s situation and Qin Jue’s urgent need for funds, had only taken enough to cover her trip.

She truly wanted to save money for Qin Jue.

But would anyone believe her if she said so?

She didn’t need to guess—she knew the internet would tear into her for pretending poorly.

Lin Yuebai hadn’t dared to look at her phone the entire way here.

Qin Jue sat across from her, sliding over a handkerchief.

It carried the scent of agarwood and roses, just like Qin Jue herself.

Lin Yuebai clutched it, reluctant to use it to wipe her tears, holding it gently instead.

“I’m sorry.”

Qin Jue didn’t interrupt the girl’s apology. Lin Yuebai kept her head down, bracing for reprimand.

Finally, a soft sigh came from across the table, followed by a phone being pushed toward her.

Lin Yuebai’s eyes were red and swollen, like a little rabbit’s.

“Take a look,” Qin Jue said.

Lin Yuebai roughly wiped her tears, the motion making Qin Jue wince.

@Stellar Entertainment: #Clarification Statement# #StopTheRumors# The total contract amount (including tax) for Lin Yuebai’s participation in Iceberg Tech’s advertisement is 60,000 yuan. Attached are the production team’s financial records and bank statements for verification. Lin Yuebai is Iceberg Tech’s global ambassador, and this was a goodwill shoot. We demand an end to personal attacks against the artist. Our company will continue pursuing legal action against the rumor-monger “@PassionfruitExtra”…

The lengthy Weibo post left netizens stunned.

“Only 60k???? That’s practically charity! I’ve been there before—just renting a car costs more than that…”

“Alright, alright, she really was just helping out.”

“Is it possible that Lin Yuebai comes from a wealthy family herself? She’s the only daughter of the Jing family, the one doing well in domestic new energy.”

“Check out Iceberg Tech’s Weibo—they’re practically bending over backwards to prove themselves. Now they’re live-streaming about their solid materials and patent applications. Hahaha, honestly, they don’t lose to big brands. Pretty decent, if you ask me.”

“Exactly! Iceberg Tech even released some affordable products. They have so many options, yet haters just focus on the price of one model.”

“Why don’t the haters mention how they’re earning foreign currency and bringing glory to the country? Or how they provide jobs domestically?”

Lin Yuebai scrolled through the comments, and at least her tears had stopped flowing.

Qin Jue: “Eat before it gets cold.”

Before Lin Yuebai was a bowl of rich broth with large chunks of beef. The most surprising part was a scorching-hot stone placed inside, keeping the soup warm.

Lin Yuebai sniffled. “It’s my fault.”

Qin Jue smiled at her.

Lin Yuebai lowered her head to sip the soup, not daring to meet Qin Jue’s gaze.

Qin Jue peeled shrimp for her. “The shrimp here are good—raised in highland lakes. Sweeter than what we get back home.”

One by one, Qin Jue peeled, and Lin Yuebai ate, until finally, Qin Jue patted her slightly rounded stomach. “Mm, full now.”

Lin Yuebai, already flushed, asked the question she had been holding back:

“You… really aren’t angry?”

This time, it was Qin Jue who looked puzzled. “Why would I be?”

Lin Yuebai hesitated. “Angry that I… overestimated myself.”

Qin Jue recalled Lin Yuebai’s earlier “confession of sins.” “Ambition is a good thing. I wouldn’t want you to be some clingy vine that can’t survive without me.”

Qin Jue led her by the hand as they strolled through the ancient town’s streets, lined with houses adorned in colorful murals of local totems.

The wind howled, streetlights flickered, and Lin Yuebai stepped forward to grasp Qin Jue’s hand.

Their fingers intertwined with practiced ease.

The system cleared its throat.

System: “You’re not even pretending anymore, huh?”

Qin Jue had almost forgotten its existence.

The villain smirked, yanking Lin Yuebai forward with enough force to make her stumble.

“What’s wrong?”

Worried about paparazzi, Lin Yuebai pulled Qin Jue into a deserted alley.

Above, stars dotted the sky; below, their shadows stretched long.

With one button of her coat undone, Qin Jue watched as Lin Yuebai—almost as if possessed—burrowed into her arms, tilting her head up with still-reddened eyes.

“I didn’t hear footsteps… Is someone really coming?”

Qin Jue replied, “No one.”

Lin Yuebai frowned. “Then what did you—?”

Qin Jue: “I solved your problem. Shouldn’t you… repay me somehow?”

Lin Yuebai understood.

Earlier, she had earnestly listed her mistakes but hadn’t mentioned how to make amends.

Everything she had paled in comparison to Qin Jue’s standards.

Truthfully, Lin Yuebai just wanted to prove her worth—never to surpass Qin Jue.

She knew her limits and sincerely called her “President Qin… Sister.”

Qin Jue’s hand settled on Lin Yuebai’s waist. “Weren’t you so eloquent earlier? Why stop now?”

Her fingers brushed against something unusual beneath Lin Yuebai’s sleeve—a raised texture.

Like… a belt?

The girl nestled in her black trench coat pulled open the collar, revealing a golden chain wrapped around her upper body—the same style worn by local dancers.

Qin Jue’s gaze froze momentarily. Lin Yuebai used her fingernail to lift the chain for her to see, the links adorned with tiny bells.

When clothed, the bells made no sound; all that could be seen in the darkness was gold pressed against luminous skin.

Absolutely stunning.

Lin Yuebai lay like a swan awaiting sacrifice on an altar. “Sister, do as you please,” she murmured.

She could be here, or anywhere—she knew Qin Jue would protect her.

In this lifetime, she had only ever drawn warmth from Qin Jue, so she was willing to do anything.

Qin Jue stopped Lin Yuebai’s next move. “Don’t be reckless. This place isn’t safe. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

She adjusted Lin Yuebai’s collar disapprovingly. “Is this pure gold? It might irritate your skin. Yuebai, you don’t take care of yourself enough.”

Lin Yuebai flushed at the scolding. “You’re right, sister.”

Qin Jue rubbed her fingers, still lingering with the softness of Lin Yuebai’s waist from moments before.