I'm a Professional at Being a Scumbag [Quick Wear] - Chapter 20

The aftermath of a night of reckless indulgence nearly caused Le Yi to miss her flight.

Chu Qiao stood at the boarding gate, watching her flustered figure hurry past. She thought to herself, Should I buy a private jet? Then we wouldn’t have to rush like this.

Le Yi’s seat was next to Zhu Qiong’s. As Zhu Qiong waited at the boarding gate, she casually helped Le Yi with her luggage. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a mark on Le Yi’s neck.

Could it be a love bite? she wondered. She looked again.

It is a love bite, she confirmed. There were even teeth marks. Though half-covered by her clothes, the telltale marks couldn’t be completely concealed.

Has Le Yi started dating?

Zhu Qiong felt a pang of discomfort. Partly, it stemmed from the ambiguous feelings she harbored toward Le Yi. But more importantly, as Le Yi’s best friend, she felt hurt that her friend would keep something as significant as a new romance from her.

So, after everything that happened, Le Yi really doesn’t trust me anymore.

Under the weight of these dual blows, Zhu Qiong couldn’t shake her gloominess. Noticing her friend’s dejected mood, Le Yi teased, “What’s wrong? Already suffering from altitude sickness before we’ve even taken off?”

Zhu Qiong struggled to hold back, but the words slipped out. “Are you… seeing someone?”

“Huh?” Le Yi was utterly bewildered.

“Is it a guy or a girl?” Zhu Qiong pressed.

Le Yi made a stopping motion with her hand. “Have you lost your mind? What’s with the sudden nonsense?”

Zhu Qiong thought Le Yi was just refusing to tell her, which made her even more upset. “I thought we were still good friends, but you’re even hiding your romance from me.”

Le Yi initially thought Zhu Qiong was joking. Only when she saw Zhu Qiong on the verge of tears did she realize the question was serious. “No, of course not! If I were dating someone, I’d tell you first.”

Hope rekindled in Zhu Qiong’s eyes. “Really?”

Le Yi nodded. “Where did you get the idea I’m dating someone?”

Zhu Qiong pointed to her neck. “There’s a huge love bite right here.”

Le Yi finally remembered. Last night, during their passionate moment, the little kitten had apparently bitten her neck.

I told her not to leave marks, but she doesn’t listen at all.

Le Yi covered her neck with her shirt and lied through her teeth. “It’s not a love bite. It’s a mosquito bite.”

“Are there mosquitoes on the thirty-third floor of your apartment building?” Zhu Qiong exclaimed in disbelief.

Le Yi retorted, “Just because there aren’t any at home doesn’t mean they don’t exist outside. You’ll encounter them whenever you go out. Stop overthinking it. I’m focused on my career right now. Romantic entanglements only slow down my ability to make money.”

Zhu Qiong was skeptical, but seeing Le Yi’s calm demeanor, she was once again convinced.

After a moment, she asked, “Xiao Yi, you’ve said before that you like girls, right?”

Le Yi nodded. “Yeah.”

Zhu Qiong desperately wanted to ask if she stood a chance, but remembering Le Yi’s earlier declaration that she was focused solely on her career, she knew any such question would be futile and might even jeopardize their friendship.

No, no.

With this thought, Zhu Qiong suppressed her feelings.

Le Yi’s physical constitution was remarkably robust. While everyone else experienced some degree of altitude sickness, she remained unaffected, eating well, sleeping soundly, and filming three consecutive scenes in the desert without showing any signs of fatigue.

Zhu Qiong, her face pale, asked, “How are you not even a little affected? Are you made of steel?”

Le Yi suddenly remembered something, her ears flushing inexplicably.

“I’ve been working out quite a bit lately, so I’ve gotten some good training.”

Zhu Qiong lay back down, closed her eyes, and endured the pain of altitude sickness.

Le Yi’s role wasn’t substantial, but the filming had dragged on for over three months due to her scenes being scattered throughout the script—here a bit, there a bit. Director Xu Jianchuan’s fondness for her also meant he occasionally added extra scenes, keeping her on set from the very beginning until the very end, alongside the main actors.

During this period, Le Yi received numerous scripts. She selected one or two that appealed to her and accepted them, while returning the rest.

In the past, she had taken on as many roles as possible to earn a living for her family. Now, she preferred quality over quantity, wanting to build a proper acting career.

The two months she spent in the Northwest were largely secluded, with no news leaking out. Yet her popularity remained undiminished.

Occasionally, clips from her previous work or behind-the-scenes footage would surface online. Her outgoing personality and sense of humor quickly attracted a dedicated fan base.

When she saw her name trending again, Le Yi sensed something was amiss.

She hadn’t even found a suitable manager, only a personal assistant. Who was buying these trends for her?

Was this massive investment meant to propel her to fame, or to destroy her career?

If it was to make her famous, why go to such lengths to keep it secret? They could have easily revealed it to her and demanded something in return.

But no one approached her. All her contact channels remained eerily silent, as if she had vanished.

That left only one possibility:

They were trying to destroy her career.

Le Yi pondered carefully. In all her years in the industry, she hadn’t acted in many shows, but she’d gotten along well with her colleagues. The only unpleasantness had come from…

Zhao Ke.

Could she be behind this?

Le Yi decided to keep a close eye on things. She even spent her own money to suppress the trending topic, determined to remain a quiet, hardworking actress.

During Le Yi’s days filming in the west, Chu Qiao suffered terribly. She called three times a day, needing to hear Le Yi’s voice the moment she woke up.

Le Yi was woken up by her calls several times, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry. Over time, this forced her into the habit of going to bed and waking up early.

One day, when Le Yi didn’t have any scenes and was resting in her hotel room, Chu Qiao called for a video chat at 8 PM. The first thing she said was, “Sister, I want to see you… naked.”

Le Yi choked on her own spit, coughing for a few moments before managing, “What kind of wild talk is that? Are you delirious?”

Chu Qiao’s small face crumpled, her eyes immediately welling up with tears.

Le Yi: …

Those tears come so easily… The entertainment industry’s loss is the acting world’s gain.

“Sister, I miss you.”

Le Yi unbuttoned two buttons and said, “Look.”

Chu Qiao watched for a moment before tentatively suggesting, “I can’t see clearly. Move it down a little more.”

Le Yi refused to comply.

“Don’t push it too far. I’ll hang up.”

Chu Qiao pouted. “Fine~”

Then she stripped herself naked.

Le Yi: “?! What the hell is this?!”

Chu Qiao looked up at her, completely unashamed. She leaned closer to the screen and asked, “Does Sister not miss me?”

Le Yi took a deep breath, remaining silent.

Not a moment ago, but now I do.

Chu Qiao reached up and gently caressed her slender neck, her hand slowly sliding downward…

“They miss Sister very much.”

Le Yi’s breathing grew uneven. She sat up, staring at the screen. “Move it further away. I can’t see clearly like this.”

Chu Qiao chuckled softly, her voice like raindrops striking a lake, sending ripples through Le Yi’s heart.

Obediently, Chu Qiao pulled the phone back. Le Yi’s vision was now filled with snow-white skin.

******

After finishing the shoot in the Northwest, Le Yi, the fifth actress, found herself with little to do.

She told Chu Qiao the time of her return, assuming her roommate would definitely come to pick her up. But Chu Qiao didn’t show up, and the apartment was eerily quiet, as if no one had been home for two or three days.

Le Yi missed the warmth of their usual banter and considered calling Chu Qiao. She even dialed the number, but abruptly hung up.

Why did she feel that Chu Qiao had to pick her up and wait for her at home? She used to travel frequently before, and she’d never felt this way before.

Realizing her unusually strong longing for Chu Qiao, Le Yi felt disheartened.

She sat on the sofa in a daze for two hours until Zhu Qiong’s call snapped her out of her reverie.

“Qiong, what’s wrong?” Le Yi asked weakly.

Zhu Qiong’s voice was urgent. “I sent you a photo. Is that Qiaoqiao in it?”

Le Yi opened the WeChat message and was stunned by what she saw.

Words like “IPO,” “ribbon-cutting,” and “net worth” jumped out at her, leaving her dazed for a long moment.

“It seems like…” Le Yi’s voice trailed off, sounding hesitant.

Zhu Qiong was silent for a long moment before saying, “This kid really keeps a low profile while accomplishing great things.”

Le Yi forced a bitter smile. “Who could argue?”

Noticing the odd tone in her voice, Zhu Qiong asked, “You don’t actually don’t know, do you?”

Le Yi’s heart clenched. She didn’t know how to answer. To say she didn’t know would be a lie. She was Chu Qiao’s closest confidante. But to say she did know would also be a lie. She had genuinely heard nothing about this.

She had raised this child, even been intimate with her, yet she felt she didn’t understand her at all.

Chu Qiao was only eighteen, yet she already owned such a massive company. When had she started building it? How had she grown it to this scale? Le Yi knew nothing about any of it.

When she thought of Chu Qiao, all she could see were those eyes that seemed to reflect only her own face—gentle and obedient, like a dog’s.

At midnight, Chu Qiao called. Le Yi answered, but there was only silence from the other end.

After a full minute of silence, Chu Qiao finally spoke. “Sister, I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

“When are you coming back?” Le Yi asked.

“I’ll land at 2 PM tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up. It’s late, get some sleep.”

Le Yi hung up the phone, her thoughts a chaotic mess. She didn’t know what to say.

While she had been strategizing ways to help Chu Qiao reclaim her place in the Chu family, Chu Qiao had grown strong enough to confront them herself.

The situation had unfolded too smoothly, leaving her with a sense of unreality.

Could it be that my role is simply to play the villain? That’s awfully useless.

Le Yi buried her face in her pillow, ashamed that she was now outmatched by a girl who had just come of age.

This was the first time Le Yi had hung up on Chu Qiao. Chu Qiao froze for a moment, then turned to glare at Chu Ji, her eyes cold enough to kill.

“What are you looking at? I didn’t summon those reporters!” Chu Ji protested innocently.

“If you hadn’t dragged me to that stupid ribbon-cutting ceremony, would I have been exposed?” Chu Qiao rubbed her temples, her expression irritable.

What if I make Sister angry? What if she kicks me out? I’m capable of living independently now.

Chu Ji shrugged. “We should have dealt with this earlier. Do you plan to keep lying to her forever?”

Chu Qiao knew that the longer she hid it, the angrier Le Yi would be when she found out. But she never imagined she’d be caught so suddenly.

Her plan had been to gradually reveal it to her sister, allowing her time to adjust.

Now everything was ruined.

“You’ll go to tonight’s banquet alone,” Chu Qiao said, then left with a flourish.

Chu Ji shot to his feet, exclaiming, “Hey! You know I hate these kinds of events! You can’t just leave me stranded!”

Chu Qiao paid him no mind. If there had been a flight that night, she would have rushed back immediately to placate her sister.

When Le Yi picked up Chu Qiao, she didn’t even help with her luggage, just walked ahead in silence, making Chu Qiao’s anxiety grow.

The ride home passed in tense silence. Once inside, Chu Qiao finally couldn’t hold back.

“Sister, are you angry?”

Le Yi glanced at her sidelong. “You kept such a huge secret from me for so long. How could I not be angry?”

Chu Qiao’s fear intensified at Le Yi’s cold expression, deepening her unease. It felt as if her sister might abandon her at any moment.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong. I planned to tell you after I regained the Chu family.”

“Why wait until you’ve regained the Chu family to tell me?”

“You’ve always told me that once I grew up, I had to reclaim the Chu family and take back everything that belongs to me.”

Le Yi was stunned.

She hadn’t realized that, without meaning to, she had put such immense pressure on Chu Qiao.

This was supposed to be her mission, but by constantly talking about it, she had unwittingly brainwashed Chu Qiao.

Seeing Le Yi’s expression soften, Chu Qiao suddenly threw herself onto the sofa, crushing her sister beneath her weight. She nuzzled Le Yi’s neck and murmured, “Sister, I missed you so much.”

Le Yi hesitated briefly before returning the embrace, gently stroking Chu Qiao’s hair.

Forget everything else, she thought. Just consider this a reward for all your hard work.

Chu Qiao clung to Le Yi, kissing and cuddling, stirring a fiery heat in both of them. Yet she obediently submitted to Le Yi’s rules, offering herself willingly.

As long as Sister likes me, I’d gladly be a bottom for a lifetime, Chu Qiao thought happily.

Now that Le Yi knew Chu Qiao’s true status, many things made sense.

“You bought all those trending topics?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And the press releases?”

“Those too.”

“The casual fans…”

“I bought some, but most are genuine.”

Le Yi: “……”

Seeing Le Yi about to sigh again, Chu Qiao threw herself into her sister’s arms, wriggling and squirming to disrupt her thoughts.

Le Yi felt utterly helpless, as if she had been completely outmaneuvered.

Chu Qiao continued her classes as usual, but more people started trying to befriend her. Fortunately, her naturally aloof demeanor made it easy for her to reject them decisively.

Half a year later, production began on the second season of Le Yi, and Chu Qiao’s company invested additional funds. Overnight, she went from being a supporting actress to a well-connected industry insider, and everyone treated her with newfound respect.

Unable to dispel the rumors, they gradually began to spread.

Director Xu Jianchuan’s film was set to release during the Spring Festival, and its early screenings garnered rave reviews. On opening day, it shattered box office records for its genre.

The celebratory banquet arrived as scheduled. Le Yi wore a custom-made gown she had ordered half a year earlier, outshining everyone in the room and becoming the center of attention.

Zhu Qiong’s eyes widened in astonishment as she approached to toast her.

“You look stunning tonight,” Zhu Qiong said.

Le Yi teased, “Aren’t you worried I’ll steal your spotlight?”

“I’d love nothing more,” Zhu Qiong replied with a smile, downing her champagne in one gulp.

Blinded by Le Yi’s beauty, Zhu Qiong desperately wanted to confess her feelings, drinking only to suppress the urge.

When Director Xu Jianchuan called Zhu Qiong away, Le Yi, wanting to avoid being swarmed, moved to find a quiet corner. As she lifted her leg to step forward, she saw Chu Qiao, dressed in a matching gown that accentuated her cool, refined elegance.

This is Director Xu Jianchuan’s film celebration. What is she doing here?

Chu Qiao clearly saw her, a warm smile in her eyes. However, she first greeted Director Xu Jianchuan, and the two seemed to have a good relationship.

Their evening gowns were strikingly similar, resembling a couple’s ensemble. Combined with past rumors, whispers began to spread among the crowd.

Le Yi tried to slip away, but she had barely taken a few steps when she was caught.

Chu Qiao looked at her and smiled. “Sister, where are you going?”

“My feet hurt. I just want to find a place to rest.”

Chu Qiao glanced down at her high heels. “Let’s go to the dressing room. They have slippers there.”

Le Yi didn’t ask why Chu Qiao seemed so familiar with the place. She could feel the weight of numerous gazes on them, prickling her back.

Inside the dressing room, Chu Qiao helped her remove the high heels and began massaging her ankles.

“Does that feel better?”

Le Yi nodded.

Chu Qiao crouched on the floor, her expensive gown brushing against the carpet. She seemed oblivious to the fabric’s contact with the ground, completely focused on massaging Le Yi’s feet.

The oblique lighting cast shadows from her eyelashes across her face, highlighting her straight nose, glossy lips, and chiseled features. She was beautiful, more so than any actress at the event.

Le Yi could feel her heartbeat quickening. Something she hadn’t noticed before seemed to be flowing between them.

Chu Qiao looked up at her, her gaze sincere and fervent.

“Sister, would you like something to eat?”

Le Yi avoided her gaze, answering hastily, “Yes, okay!”

Chu Qiao chuckled, helped her put on her slippers, and stood up to pat her head.

“Stay here and wait. I’ll go get you something to eat.”

Le Yi’s hair was slightly disheveled. She reached up to smooth it, feeling her heart race again.

“How impudent,” she said with a smile.

Chu Qiao walked out calmly, leaned against the dressing room door, and let out a long sigh.

She touched the ring hidden in the secret pocket of her dress, her heart pounding relentlessly.

I almost lost my composure and confessed to Sister.

This is too simple. There must be a bouquet of flowers. It needs to feel like a proper ritual.

Chu Qiao took a deep breath and headed toward the food area.

A few minutes later, the dressing room door opened. Le Yi looked up, thinking Chu Qiao had returned, but it was only a young actress from the same production team.

The girl, barely of age, was a first-year film school student with promising acting skills and a pure disposition. However, she seemed to harbor an inexplicable fondness for Le Yi, blushing every time she spoke and clinging to her affectionately.

Ding Que approached Le Yi and said, “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Le Yi asked, “Did you need something?”

Ding Que hesitated, her expression troubled, before slowly sitting down next to Le Yi.

“Everyone’s talking about you and Chu Qiao… you know, that kind of relationship. Do you really like her?”

Her face flushed crimson as she finished speaking, too afraid to look at Le Yi.

Le Yi was about to explain when the System suddenly chimed in:

[Host, Chu Qiao’s affection for you has reached its peak. This is the perfect opportunity to crush her. Seize the moment.]

Hearing footsteps outside the door, Le Yi understood.

Seeing the corner of a formal dress peeking through the crack, Le Yi turned, deliberately adopting a casual tone.

“She’s just a stepping stone to help me enter high society. Who would like some weak little thing like that? I only care about her money.”

Worried she hadn’t driven the knife deep enough, Le Yi added, “Fame and profit are what I pursue. Emotion? In my eyes, it’s utterly worthless.”

The bouquet in Chu Qiao’s hand fell to the floor, petals scattering across the ground. Her face shifted from joy to gloom, and even her eyes darkened.

The door slammed open, startling both Le Yi and Ding Que.

Chu Qiao stormed in, her face dark. She glared at Ding Que, who was sitting next to Le Yi, and barked, “Get out!”

Ding Que glanced at Le Yi but obeyed, leaving the room.

Before Le Yi could say anything, Chu Qiao’s hand clamped around her throat.

Chu Qiao kissed her fiercely, biting wildly at her lips and tongue until the taste of blood filled her mouth.

Le Yi struggled briefly. Chu Qiao released her, a dangerous smile curling her lips.

“Do you think I’m weak, Sister?”

Blood still dripped from the corner of Le Yi’s mouth. Her rational mind warned her not to provoke this wild beast on the verge of losing control, but her mouth had its own agenda.

“Not weak?”

Chu Qiao said nothing. The smile vanished from her lips, replaced by a glacial coldness in her eyes.

She hoisted Le Yi over her shoulder and strode out, crushing the bouquet underfoot, heedless of the shocked gazes as she swept Le Yi from the banquet hall.

Le Yi pounded on her back, but it was futile.

Chu Qiao dragged her to the presidential suite on the top floor and hurled her onto the bed.

“Soon you’ll know how weak I am.”