Scumbag Woman, But Pampering My Wife - Chapter 62

“Stop fooling around and get some rest.”

Qin Jue tucked Lin Yuebai, who was trying to hook her leg again, back under the covers.

Lin Yuebai wasn’t ready to sleep just yet, her mind still lingering on the golden chain by the bedside. Qin Jue placed the chain beside her. “I’ll put it under your pillow. Now, sleep properly.”

Only then did Lin Yuebai reluctantly settle down.

If it weren’t for Qin Jue’s habit of idly playing with the chain between her fingers, Lin Yuebai wouldn’t have been so fixated on it.

Qin Jue wrapped her arms around the girl through the thin blanket, gently patting her back until she drifted into a deep sleep, her fingers still clutching a small fold of Qin Jue’s collar.

Over the next two days, Qin Jue was occupied with local business affairs, traveling to multiple locations for negotiations.

Her secretary, Zhong Yi, who accompanied her, was thoroughly impressed.

Rising from the leather sofa, Qin Jue glanced at the massive eagle sculpture adorning the office wall. “Alright, let’s proceed with this batch of goods. The containers will arrive at the port in a week. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Her English pronunciation was smooth and pleasant—a result of her overseas education.

Zhong Yi noted her boss’s linguistic talent. Despite having been in the country for less than a week, Qin Jue was already conversing in the local dialect.

The business partner across from her shook her hand. “I wouldn’t have guessed Director Qin was such a romantic soul. Those with passion are always blessed by the gods. Wishing you good fortune.”

Qin Jue’s gaze fell on Lin Yuebai’s poster placed on the desk.

“She’s worth it.”

The man burst into laughter and escorted Qin Jue downstairs, even arranging a chauffeur-driven business car for her.

This wasn’t a developed country, and local production faced numerous challenges, relying heavily on imports.

After reviewing the local tax exemption policies recently, Qin Jue had identified a lucrative opportunity.

Seated in the back with Zhong Yi, Qin Jue opened her laptop on the small tray table to continue working.

The trip had been rushed, leaving Zhong Yi to handle more tasks than usual.

“How’s the domestic charity project progressing?” Qin Jue asked.

Zhong Yi kept typing, the motion comical on the bumpy road.

“Libraries and elementary schools have been built in remote areas, and a foundation has been established—all under Miss Lin’s name.”

Qin Jue nodded in approval. Feeling carsick, she closed her eyes to ease the discomfort.

The local cuisine hadn’t agreed with her, but what truly unsettled her was not seeing Lin Yuebai for days.

Closing her eyes didn’t help. When the nausea worsened, she asked the driver to pull over.

Stumbling out of the car, Qin Jue leaned against a roadside tree and vomited.

Having only drunk tea that morning, there was nothing but bile and tea leaves to expel.

Zhong Yi was startled, her fingers freezing over the keyboard as realization dawned.

Pale-faced, Qin Jue dry-heaved a few more times before her empty stomach finally settled.

The sensation was unbearable, reminding her of her early entrepreneurial days—forced to drink until she vomited in restrooms.

She despised losing control of her body.

The system panicked: “Host, are you okay?! The nearest pharmacy is still ten kilometers away—hang in there… QWQ”

Qin Jue: “…”

Qin Jue unscrewed the cap of her mineral water and took a sip, her expression still far from pleasant.

She missed Lin Yuebai even more. If she were here, she’d let Qin Jue rest her head on her lap, hold her hand, or even peel oranges for her.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Qin Jue recalled the system’s task—to disrupt Lin Yuebai’s shoot.

“Boss…”

Zhong Yi patted her shoulder.

Qin Jue frowned slightly. “What is it?”

Zhong Yi pulled out a small packet of sour plum candies from her bag. “Miss Lin gave these to me this morning. She said if you felt carsick, I should give you some. If not, I was to keep them hidden.”

Qin Jue’s gaze lingered on the familiar packaging, momentarily stunned.

“That was thoughtful of her.”

System: “…Should the protagonist even be this thoughtful?”

Qin Jue placed the tart candy on her tongue, the sharp bitterness spreading across her taste buds.

Whether it was psychological or the candy actually worked, she felt much better when they got back in the car.

Qin Jue: “Little Moon’s heart isn’t made of stone. Why wouldn’t she care about me?”

The system wanted to curse, but on second thought, she had a point.

Finally, it shook its glowing little fuzz and said, “As long as the mission gets done >.<”

Qin Jue’s car arrived at the national park, where Lin Yuebai was filming a commercial by the alpine lake.

Later, the footage would play in elevators across the country.

Qin Jue set up a small folding stool by the lake, watching the fish dart beneath the surface, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Not far away, a small wooden boat floated near the shore. Lin Yuebai stood on it, dressed in local attire, her long hair silky smooth. The pure mountain wind brushed against her cheeks, sending her hair fluttering like silk through the air.

Backlit by the sun, Qin Jue could only make out her silhouette, the golden light framing her like a halo.

Qin Jue picked up her phone and quietly raised it.

With a soft shutter click, the image froze on the screen.

The subject of the photo noticed immediately, turning toward Qin Jue.

The moment Lin Yuebai saw her, her eyes lit up.

Like a damp little animal spotting its owner returning home, her peach-blossom eyes widened—

“President Qin!”

Unable to move too much for balance, Lin Yuebai could only wave excitedly to show she’d seen her.

Qin Jue strolled over. “How’s the shoot going today?”

The advertising crew treated Qin Jue’s arrival like the coming of a money god.

The production studio was renowned in the industry, having worked with many celebrities, but when it came to generosity, no one matched President Qin.

“Everything’s going smoothly! President Qin, if we shoot on that little island over there, the lighting and scenery would be perfect. We could use a portable power source to connect a hairdryer—showcasing the quality of Iceberg Tech’s product by contrasting the natural wind with the dryer’s airflow—”

Qin Jue listened to the lengthy explanation, thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

The small island on the lake wasn’t rocky or stable—it was made of straw bundles stacked by locals.

Not exactly reliable.

Qin Jue frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

While she was discussing with the crew, Lin Yuebai, unnoticed, had already jumped off the boat and wrapped her arms around Qin Jue from behind.

A hand adorned with various silver ornaments and gemstone rings slipped around Qin Jue’s waist.

Qin Jue stiffened for a moment before gently grasping the hand.

The system emitted a series of beeping alerts.

Qin Jue said coolly, “I’m working. Focus a little.”

The surrounding people fell silent instantly—no one dared to meddle in the dynamics between these two.

Lin Yuebai had no intention of focusing. She could see Qin Jue’s stern expression, but beneath it, amusement flickered in her eyes.

Unlike others, Lin Yuebai wasn’t the least bit afraid of her.

Lin Yuebai had just overheard the photographer mention filming on the island. She held a prop hairdryer in her hand, its surface painted with the local giant eagle totem in gold detailing against a stunning violet base—a design that screamed luxury and sophistication.

No matter what Lin Yuebai held, it instantly looked like an expensive luxury item.

“That island looks stable enough. I’m light—it should be fine.”

Qin Jue still wasn’t reassured, but as Lin Yuebai tugged at her sleeve, swaying playfully like a child begging for candy, the furrow in her brow softened slightly.

Lin Yuebai suddenly leaned in closer. “I smell something familiar on you.”

Qin Jue stood still, letting the girl sniff her like an inquisitive puppy.

“Sour plum pastry? Are you carsick?”

Before Qin Jue could respond, something long and slender was pressed into her hand. In the blink of an eye, Lin Yuebai had already boarded the boat with the crew, leaving Qin Jue standing alone.

Qin Jue stared blankly at the retreating figure, her ears flushed crimson.

Zhong Yi, who had witnessed the entire scene, was thoroughly impressed.

Miss Lin was too smooth—she had Qin Jue wrapped around her finger.

Qin Jue uncurled her fingers. The object in her palm wasn’t small—in fact, it was enormous.

Enormous.

Nearly a meter long.

It was a giant eagle’s feather.

Likely a flight feather, brown with a whitish hue near the base, its surface smooth to the touch.

Zhong Yi’s eyes widened. “I heard these eagles have wingspans over two meters—they only nest on mountain peaks. It’s not molting season either, so finding a feather like this is incredibly lucky.”

The film crew, drawn by the commotion, gathered around to marvel at it.

Clutching the feather, Qin Jue didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. The image of Lin Yuebai scrambling around during breaks to pick things up for her flashed through her mind—adorably childish.

What a kid.

System: “Task complete.”

Qin Jue’s smile froze. “What did you say?”

She hadn’t even decided how to interfere yet—how could the task be marked as complete?

Was it because she’d agreed to let Lin Yuebai film on the island?

Qin Jue’s expression darkened.

Her gaze snapped toward the distant island. Lin Yuebai stood near the edge, the ground beneath her slightly sunken but seemingly stable.

The wind had picked up, and the crew was waiting for it to calm before filming.

But as the gusts grew stronger, the grass beneath Lin Yuebai’s feet became increasingly unsteady.

Then, as if fate had intervened, a massive eagle descended from the mountains—a creature revered as a spiritual totem by the locals.

The crew had hoped to encounter it during filming, but after a brief sighting on the first day, it had vanished—until now.

The giant eagle flapped its wings, blotting out the sky. Lin Yuebai paid no attention to anything else, maintaining her posture—her back ramrod straight, her calves slightly trembling from the strain of keeping balance.

The eagle extended its talons behind her—!

With a splash, a fish was snatched from the water.

For a moment, the world fell silent, as if even the wind had paused.

The razor-sharp claws sank into the fish’s flesh, its tail still thrashing.

But now, it had become nothing more than a backdrop.

The photographer didn’t dare blink, the shutter clicking like a machine gun. A local guide dropped to his knees and began praying, throwing the scene into chaos.

On the shore—

Qin Jue commanded coldly, “Go. Prepare the speedboat.”

His voice was icy, and the crew capturing distant shots immediately sprang into action without hesitation.

The production team was well-prepared—they actually had a speedboat ready. Qin Jue boarded it without needing instruction.

The wind grew fiercer, and Lin Yuebai’s expression shifted. She quickly crouched, redistributing her weight.

The photographer snapped several shots, aware of the danger but driven by professional instinct to keep capturing the perfect image.

Then, in the next second—she was gone.

Cold sweat instantly drenched the photographer.

Abandoning his equipment, he looked up just in time to see Lin Yuebai gripping the edge of a floating reed cluster with one hand while reaching for a sinking sample hairdryer with the other.

Each hairdryer was numbered—borrowed for the shoot and meant to be returned to the brand afterward. Waterlogged, it was likely ruined, but losing it entirely would cause complications.

The one Lin Yuebai held was a custom-painted design by a renowned artist, secured by Qin Jue through connections—no small feat.

The icy water enveloped her body. She choked on several mouthfuls before her fingers finally brushed the cord, easing her panic slightly.

Nearby, the photographer moved to help—only for the giant eagle to swoop overhead, its wings beating as it soared into the sky.

Its bone-chilling talons missed his face by half an inch.

Lin Yuebai felt her body temperature plummet. She knew how to swim, but now her calf cramped violently—

Every movement sent stabbing pain through her.

No—she couldn’t sink.

Qin Jue was watching from the shore.

He was watching—the person she loved was watching.

Qin Jue had invested heavily in this shoot. An accident was unacceptable.

Her mind was both muddled and crystal clear, filled only with thoughts of Qin Jue.

As the cramp worsened, she tossed the soaked hairdryer onto the still-floating reeds. Just as her fingers broke the surface—another hand seized hers.

Lin Yuebai: !

Before she could react, she was yanked upward.

Drenched, she was hauled onto Qin Jue’s lap like a stranded mermaid.

A warm, dry towel draped over her head—

Stunned, she gasped for breath before she could speak.

The scent of Qin Jue enveloped her—earthy sandalwood, steady and rich, layered with roses. Without thinking, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, trembling faintly.

Qin Jue’s expression was grim.

After Lin Yuebai had calmed down for quite a while, Qin Jue lifted her chin and said coolly:

“Why didn’t you go up immediately?”

Lin Yuebai’s face was flushed from choking, her eyelashes trembling uncontrollably.

She placed the filming sample in front of Qin Jue. The precision hair dryer was dripping water underneath—it would probably be difficult to repair anytime soon, but fortunately, the golden totem painted on the exterior remained intact.

Qin Jue’s fingers tightened around her chin. Lin Yuebai winced in pain but didn’t dare struggle.

“President Qin, I was afraid this would fall into the water. It’s deep here—if it sank, we might never find it again.”

Qin Jue was nearly amused by her nonsense.

“Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Was a mere sample worth Lin Yuebai risking herself by jumping in?

Lin Yuebai stayed silent, only hot tears rolling down her cheeks and scalding Qin Jue’s fingers.

The girl cried soundlessly, her lips silently forming the words “I’m sorry.”

Even though she was the one who got hurt, she was still the one apologizing.

Lin Yuebai sniffled quietly. Though wrapped in a towel, she didn’t feel too cold, yet she nestled into Qin Jue’s arms, unwilling to leave even slightly.

The system felt the current plot seemed a bit off.

But seeing the host’s expression, the system didn’t dare speak up.

Qin Jue carried her to the car with a cold face, turning on the heater. Lin Yuebai huddled by the door, leaving the driver dumbfounded.

“Take us straight back to the hotel.”

Before the car started, Qin Jue asked, “Did you finish filming?”

Lin Yuebai whispered yes.

Once the car moved, Qin Jue remained silent, simply holding Lin Yuebai protectively in her arms.

Seeing her silence, Lin Yuebai grew fearful. “President Qin, are you angry? I’m sorry for causing trouble…”

Lin Yuebai was genuinely scared now. Qin Jue’s icy expression made her shudder.

Before, when Qin Jue had been angry in front of her, it wasn’t real anger—her eyes had always held amusement. This was completely different.

Lin Yuebai burrowed into Qin Jue’s clothes. Her body was still chilly, while Qin Jue’s warmth enveloped her.

Qin Jue let her stay there.

Even now, Lin Yuebai still clutched that broken sample, secretly checking if the golden totem had chipped.

After arriving at the hotel, Qin Jue drew a hot bath for her.

“Get in.”

Lin Yuebai obeyed. A small wound on her forearm, unnoticed until Qin Jue brought the first-aid kit, was carefully tended to.

Sitting in the tub, Lin Yuebai gazed at Qin Jue with reddened eyes.

“Jiejie,” she sniffled, unbearably docile, “please don’t be mad anymore.”

With one arm immobilized, Lin Yuebai could only reach out with her other hand to touch Qin Jue’s cheek.

Qin Jue initially turned away, but eventually relented, letting her pinch lightly.

Easily comforted, Lin Yuebai began to smile.

Qin Jue disinfected the wound and applied a waterproof film. “Don’t let it happen again.”

After her bath, Lin Yuebai was given a bowl of ginger soup.

No one knew where Qin Jue had found ginger to brew it.

The taste was unpleasant—Lin Yuebai nearly gagged—but under Qin Jue’s stern gaze, she drank every last drop, pitifully showing off the empty bowl.

Behind the hotel door stood a very long feather. Lin Yuebai hadn’t thought Qin Jue would actually bring it back, but she did.

Qin Jue sat on the sofa making a phone call, her expression slightly better than before, though she still wasn’t speaking. Lin Yuebai squeezed in close and settled onto her lap.

The voice on the other end of the call paused for a moment.

Then continued as usual.

Only the hand resting on Lin Yuebai’s waist tightened slightly.

The girl in her arms, oblivious, nipped at her chin. Once the call ended, Qin Jue pressed a hand to the back of her neck. “Don’t move.”

Lin Yuebai murmured with a smile, “I know I was wrong. Next time, I’ll make sure to protect myself first.”

Qin Jue arched a brow. “You know?”

Lin Yuebai nodded. “I know. And I know I shouldn’t go to dangerous places to take photos.”

Qin Jue’s expression softened considerably, but Lin Yuebai, as if unsatisfied, continued to nibble at her chin and collarbone.

“You scared me, Jiejie.”

Qin Jue huffed. “You’re the one who scared me.”

…

Along with the advertisement’s release came footage of Lin Yuebai falling into the water.

Zhuang Lan shrieked, “Lin Yuebai, are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

After being scolded by Qin Jue abroad, Lin Yuebai now had to face her manager’s wrath back home. She stood obediently in front of her, letting Zhuang Lan lightly smack her head with a rolled-up document.

“President Qin already lectured me.”

Zhuang Lan was still fuming. Lin Yuebai’s arm had become inflamed and feverish after returning—likely due to bacteria in the lake water—and she still looked sickly.

“I swear you’re trying to kill me so you can get a new manager.”

Seeing Lin Yuebai’s pallor, Zhuang Lan didn’t dare push further and ushered her onto the sofa.

“The online discourse about you is overwhelmingly positive right now. The elementary school and library you invested in have been completed, and the local government publicly praised you. Why didn’t you discuss this with me beforehand?”

Lin Yuebai blinked. “I didn’t know.”

Judging by her expression, Zhuang Lan realized she genuinely hadn’t.

“Your good friend did it again.”

Lin Yuebai: “Mhm. Only President Qin would think of something so thorough.”

Speaking of Qin Jue, Lin Yuebai truly hadn’t expected her to arrange so much exposure for her overseas.

The advertisement featuring Lin Yuebai and a giant eagle against the backdrop of alpine lakes played on LED screens across multiple countries, along with massive posters in top-tier commercial districts.

Between Lin Yuebai’s striking beauty and Iceberg Technology’s cutting-edge product, the campaign achieved breakout success.

Lin Yuebai’s Weibo was flooded with activity. Alongside fans marveling at the breathtaking scenery and her stunning visuals, many were discussing another leaked video circulating online.

“Ahhhh!!! The cameras onshore were still rolling during the accident—I saw Lin Yuebai’s arm get sliced open in real time…”

“Was that straw or a branch? God, who knows how long it had been soaking in the water. That’s so unsanitary…”

“I know it’s inappropriate to ship them right now, but her good friend literally scooped her up like a drowned kitten, LOL.”

“Those tense forearms, that icy glare—President Qin should just debut already.”

“Lin Yuebai was immediately wrapped in a towel once she got on the boat. So cute WWWW.”

“I rewatched it carefully—Lin Yuebai stayed underwater so long because she was trying to retrieve the sinking prototype. Damn, that’s dedication.”

A single stone stirred up a thousand waves. Some accused Lin Yuebai of staging a publicity stunt, but anyone with eyes could see the severity of the wound and the international influence of Iceberg Technology. No rational person would slander her.

MoonlightShinesOnMe: Weren’t they spreading rumors about Little Moon earning 30 million per day for her acting? Why aren’t they talking about that now? Oh right—because the court hearing has begun.

The Moon Shines on Me: “They only received 60,000 yuan before taxes as hard-earned payment, and even got their arm cut… What a silly kid…”

Lin Yuebai clicked to view the account named “The Moon Shines on Me,”
discovering this user only followed her, with all reposts and comments being about her own posts.

She recalled Zhuang Lan mentioning how this person had spent considerable money chasing stars, yet refused even a simple meeting request with the agency staff.

Lin Yuebai wiggled her toes, only to have Qin Jue press down on her instep. “Don’t move, or the nail polish will smudge.”

Outside, debates raged noisily, while inside the air-conditioned room, the two applied nail polish.

With a faint smile, Lin Yuebai asked, “Do you believe unconditional love exists in this world?”

She found that “The Moon Shines on Me” account truly peculiar—like an emotionless spending machine, demanding nothing in return, just pouring money and energy endlessly, almost artificial in its devotion.