The Scumbag Alpha Movie Queen Pampers Her Wife - Chapter 12

In the quiet car, the rhythmic breathing of the occupants mingled with the hum of the engine. Gu Muchu’s hand rested on the steering wheel as she gazed straight ahead, slowing down as she approached the red light at the intersection.

The Omega was slumped in the passenger seat, the seatbelt accentuating the graceful curve of her figure. Her striking, almost aggressive features now wore a serene, delicate expression. With her eyes closed, she appeared to be asleep.

As the car stopped at the crosswalk, pedestrians streamed past. Ji Yuran, roused by the surrounding activity, straightened her back and rubbed her drowsy eyes. Gu Muchu tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, revealing her slender, pale wrist. Her long, straight black hair was tucked behind her ear, allowing her peripheral vision to easily catch the subtle movements of her companion.

She spoke slowly, deliberately, “Come on, tell me about your journey of self-discovery.”

Ji Yuran froze mid-turn, pretending not to hear. She let out a soft, sleepy hum through her nose, then tilted her head against the window, feigning sleep.

The cool air in the car carried the scent of gardenias from her body. Gu Muchu inhaled lightly, then chuckled.

“Still pretending to be asleep?”

The traffic light turned green. She slowly started the car, mercilessly exposing Ji Yuran’s little ruse.

Realizing her deception was exposed, Ji Yuran stretched languidly, feigning just having woken up, and turned her gaze to the receding scenery outside the window.

Recalling the shocking words she had blurted out in the private room, Ji Yuran’s cheeks burned crimson, so mortified she wished she could bury herself like a quail. Afterward, the two women ate in a long, cold silence. To put the incident behind her, Ji Yuran pretended to be asleep the moment she got into the car, avoiding any contact with Gu Muchu.

This was undoubtedly a day that deserved to be nailed to the pillar of shame in her life.

Now that her fig leaf had been torn away, Ji Yuran feigned composure, refusing to respond, as if silently challenging Gu Muchu.

The atmosphere in the car was oppressively heavy.

Until a helpless sigh reached her ear.

“You spend all day thinking about these things. I really want to crack open your head and see what’s inside,” Gu Muchu said. The dense, swaying shadows of the trees lining the road flickered across the windshield, casting an alternating light and shadow in Gu Muchu’s eyes. Her voice flowed like a gentle stream, soft and soothing.

Ji Yuran bristled, retorting in a muffled tone, “Your attitude is so ambiguous! Anyone would overthink it! After all…”

Her words trailed off as memories of Gu Muchu’s past torment resurfaced in her mind.

Sensing the Omega’s troubled thoughts, Gu Muchu chuckled softly. “I’m so much older than you. If I were to pluck this flower, people would say I’m an old cow grazing on tender grass, wouldn’t they?”

The remark carried a hint of self-deprecation, intended only to lighten the mood. But Ji Yuran suddenly fell silent, her fingers kneading the seatbelt across her chest. Several minutes passed before she finally spoke.

“Old cow eating young grass? We’re only five years apart…” she muttered, sounding resentful of Gu Muchu’s constant air of seniority.

Gu Muchu froze, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as she realized she’d been subtly reprimanded.

Ji Yuran is calling me old-fashioned in a roundabout way, she thought.

Having just turned thirty, Gu Muchu wasn’t truly old. But in the rapidly evolving entertainment industry, compared to the endless stream of fresh-faced young actresses, she lacked the buzz and trending status.

Aware of this looming crisis, she had relentlessly honed her acting skills. After winning the Best Actress award, she finally gained public recognition, narrowly escaping the fate of fading into obscurity.

Meanwhile, Ji Yuran was at the peak of her prime. Actresses her age were typically enjoying meteoric success, yet she still lingered on the fringes of the industry.

With exceptional talent and striking looks, she had simply lacked the right opportunities. Fortunately, their paths had crossed, preventing her brilliance from being overlooked.

A wave of melancholy washed over Gu Muchu. Her tone softened as she replied, “Five years is still significant. You young ones have the advantage.”

Ji Yuran’s face twisted in disagreement. “It’s just five years! People get married with far bigger age gaps…”

As she spoke the last sentence, an inexplicable guilt surged within her. It belatedly dawned on her that she was already married to Gu Muchu.

Yet their interactions were so detached that they barely qualified as friends.

“What did you say?”

Ji Yuran’s voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, barely audible to Gu Muchu. She tilted her head slightly, her body still facing forward, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Nothing,” Ji Yuran muttered, turning her face away, unable to meet Gu Muchu’s eyes.

The Omega felt a wave of shame. The words she had just spoken burned on her tongue, impossible to repeat. She secretly rejoiced that Gu Muchu hadn’t heard her.

The sunlight streamed lazily through the car window, bathing her in its warmth and illuminating her smooth knees. Having just finished lunch, Ji Yuran felt drowsy and slowly closed her eyes.

Meanwhile, Gu Muchu replayed their conversation, her thoughts slowly unraveling.

So Ji Yuran disliked being lectured in a senior’s tone. Come to think of it, Gu Muchu realized she had been acting like one of those chauvinistic parents.

Afraid of saying something that might be misinterpreted again, as had happened during lunch, Gu Muchu carefully weighed her words before speaking. “If you don’t like it, I’ll change. I won’t treat you like a little sister anymore. Is that okay, Yuran?”

The mention of her name jolted Ji Yuran awake. Her peach blossom eyes widened slightly as she stared at Gu Muchu in disbelief, all traces of sleepiness vanished.

Ji Yuran’s mind froze for a moment. When she finally snapped out of it, her earlobes flushed crimson at a visible rate, and she nearly twisted the seatbelt in her hands until it snapped.

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, her voice sharp and her posture bristling like a ruffled Little Lion. Unfortunately, her anger had no effect on Gu Muchu.

Just like a child still in their rebellious phase, Gu Muchu thought.

Seeing Ji Yuran’s rare display of flustered anger, Gu Muchu’s mischievous side flared. She deliberately called out, “Yuran?”

Her voice was clear and crisp, like frost flowers clinging to winter leaves. The way she pronounced “ran,” with a slight curl of her tongue, carried a tender, lingering quality, evoking memories of a young college professor calling roll—intimate yet respectful.

Gu Muchu glanced at Ji Yuran, noticing her flushed cheeks and restless fidgeting with the seatbelt. She understood immediately.

The little Omega actually likes it, but she’s too embarrassed to admit it.

“Yuran,” she repeated, as if triggering a switch. Each time she heard the name, Ji Yuran’s reaction grew more intense.

“I told you not to call me that!” The Omega was frantic, pacing like a trapped ant. Noticing the amusement in Gu Muchu’s smile, she realized she was being teased. She lunged forward to cover Gu Muchu’s mouth, but Gu Muchu calmly said, “I’m driving. No roughhousing, okay?”

Gu Muchu straightened her expression, confident that Ji Yuran wouldn’t dare retaliate. Still, she couldn’t resist adding, “Yuran.”

She’s the one who started this, Ji Yuran thought, and now she’s acting all righteous, telling me to stop making a fuss. A knot of anger twisted in her chest, neither rising nor falling. She turned her head away, refusing to acknowledge Gu Muchu.

She had been tormented until she had no spirit left.

Since Gu Muchu first mentioned the possibility of Ji Yuran landing the lead role in a television drama, no decision had been made.

Although Gu Yiqiong had threatened to ruin her career, there had been no overt moves against her. Gu Muchu suspected that besides Gu Yiqiong being overwhelmed with work for the Gu Group, Lu Panwei had likely been whispering in her ear.

Li Kai’s updates were sparse, and Gu Yiqiong was exerting pressure behind the scenes. Yet, given Gu Muchu’s connections, securing a drama role for Ji Yuran remained a simple matter.

She tirelessly searched for the most suitable and promising scripts. Rather than building fame through sheer volume of work, Gu Muchu hoped Ji Yuran could land a single role that would catapult her to the next level.

After finalizing details for the film with Ling Xin, Gu Muchu left the guest room and found Ji Yuran watching television in the living room.

The Little Lion was particularly keen on studying the acting techniques of industry veterans to refine her own skills—a trait that allowed her to constantly improve.

Gu Muchu assumed she was watching a popular drama until she drew closer and realized the screen was showing a trailer for Ji Yuran’s own web drama.

“Reviewing the footage?” Gu Muchu picked up her water glass from the coffee table and walked to the water dispenser. The humming of the machine briefly muffled her voice as she asked, “How does it feel?”

The water stopped flowing. Gu Muchu walked over and sat on the sofa, maintaining a respectful distance from Ji Yuran.

“It’s just a trailer,” Ji Yuran replied, her gaze unusually unfocused. Even if it were the full episode, she doubted she could pinpoint her own flaws.

Gu Muchu had only asked casually. Compared to her own methodical, skill-based approach, Ji Yuran was clearly a natural talent, brimming with innate charisma. Her luminous, peach-blossom eyes shimmered like spring waters rippling with emerald light, their captivating allure making hearts itch with longing.

She’s truly blessed by the heavens, Gu Muchu thought, once again marveling at this hidden gem. Cupping her mug in both hands, she took a small sip and reminded Ji Yuran, “After the web series airs, you need to actively manage your Weibo account, understand?”

Ji Yuran was still a relative unknown, with only her manager to assist her. Once she gained fame, she would have an assistant, but for now, she had to handle everything herself.

As the trailer on TV reached its end, Ji Yuran shifted her attention to Gu Muchu, blinking as if to ask, Does even a supporting character need promotion?

Gu Muchu guessed what Ji Yuran was thinking and sighed deeply, but after a moment’s reflection, she realized it made sense.

Ji Yuran had an aloof and proud personality, and she would never actively promote herself. Her interactions with fans were usually limited to polite replies like “Thank you for your support” and “I’ll keep working hard.”

How could she not know how to act cute?

Gu Muchu felt a pang of regret. “Many supporting characters have become popular in recent years. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

Ji Yuran lowered her head, her thick lashes casting a shadow over her eyes. It was impossible to tell if she had taken Gu Muchu’s words to heart.

Seeing her withdrawn demeanor, Gu Muchu pulled out her phone and opened Weibo. “What’s your Weibo ID? Let me take a look.”

She planned to teach her step by step.

As Gu Muchu tapped the search bar, Ji Yuran felt a sudden wave of panic, like being called on in class to answer a question. She gripped her phone tightly, frozen in place.

“ID,” Gu Muchu said firmly. In minor matters, she could be appropriately assertive.

Knowing she couldn’t refuse, Ji Yuran reluctantly gave her ID. Gu Muchu typed it in and smiled when the familiar Stitch profile picture appeared below.

In good spirits, she clicked on the profile page.

Due to the user’s privacy settings, you cannot view their profile content.

Gu Muchu: ?

Thinking she had made a mistake, she tried again, only to see the same page.

Gu Muchu chuckled in exasperation. The Little Lion was guarding herself so fiercely, she had even blocked her on Weibo. No wonder she had been so reluctant to give her the ID earlier.

“Unblock me?” Gu Muchu handed her phone to Ji Yuran, who pretended nothing was amiss as she scrolled through the page.

Back when she had rejected Gu Muchu, Ji Yuran had blocked all of Gu Muchu’s social media accounts and never bothered to unblock them.

Ji Yuran unlocked her phone, logged into her Weibo account, and was about to unblock Gu Muchu when her gaze inadvertently landed on the comments beneath the posts. Her hand froze for a moment before she stopped moving altogether.

All the comments were from her alt account.

Besides the usual activity—commenting and showering herself with praise—the most damning part was that nearly every post contained scathing remarks about Gu Muchu. Calling her the “leader of the anti-fan club” wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

If she unblocked Gu Muchu now, someone with Gu Muchu’s sharp instincts would undoubtedly notice the discrepancies.

But with Gu Muchu waiting for her to unblock her, Ji Yuran found herself in a bind.

This was getting awkward.