The Scumbag Alpha Movie Queen Pampers Her Wife - Chapter 15

Raindrops splattered against the umbrella’s surface, sending up fleeting sprays of water that quickly fell back down. The exhibition board’s lights flickered intermittently, soaking the repeatedly pasted paper advertisements until the dark ink beneath bled through. Years of grime had settled in the illuminated sign.

Ji Yuran crouched in a tight ball, her long, fluffy curls clinging softly to the nape of her neck like a homeless kitten. Hearing a distant call, she slowly lifted her chin from where it rested on her arm.

The Alpha’s figure was tall and slender. Ji Yuran stared at her, her eyes momentarily vacant before lighting up with visible speed.

Gu Muchu carefully stepped over puddles, avoiding splashing mud, and struggled against the fierce wind to reach the bus stop. Entering the shelter, she set her umbrella down and swiftly removed her trench coat.

“The flight was canceled due to the weather, so I rushed over,” Gu Muchu said, bending down to drape the coat over Ji Yuran’s thin shoulders.

Her voice was gentle and deliberate, each word cutting through the downpour and landing clearly on Ji Yuran’s heart.

The soaked trench coat felt heavy in Ji Yuran’s hands. Seeing the Omega’s hesitation, Gu Muchu explained helplessly, “It’s wet, but it’ll have to do for now, okay?”

Ji Yuran looked up, her eyes glistening with tears, the adoration in their depths unmistakable. The Omega tugged at the trench coat, as if trying to take it off, her lips moving as if to say something.

The rain was coming down in sheets, making it impossible for Gu Muchu to hear her. But she guessed the Omega wanted to return the coat.

Beneath the trench coat, Gu Muchu wore a light brown argyle-patterned knitted vest, keeping her comfortably warm.

“I’m not cold. You keep it,” Gu Muchu ruffled Ji Yuran’s hair. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Having remained in the same position for so long, Ji Yuran’s legs had gone numb. She stumbled slightly as she stood up, embarrassed, and could only shrink her neck and murmur a faint “Mm” through her nose.

The umbrella, hastily purchased, strained under the downpour, its indigo canopy threatening to collapse and barely covering both of them. Gu Muchu gently wrapped an arm around Ji Yuran’s waist, pulling her closer to avoid getting soaked.

The pressure on her waist sent a buzz through Ji Yuran’s mind, the drumming rain the only sound in her ears. The pheromones of Wild Rose and Black Cherry lingered faintly, perhaps diluted by the damp, fishy-smelling storm, yet still carrying an indescribable, lingering tenderness.

She couldn’t quite put it into words, just like Gu Muchu herself—dangerous yet… gentle.

Ji Yuran’s thoughts paused for a moment as she used two completely contradictory qualities to describe the same person. She had read in books that even when two people who were mutually attracted to each other wore pheromone-blocking patches, their pheromones would instinctively release.

Gu Muchu, unaware of Ji Yuran’s thoughts, finally felt the weight in her heart lift as she inhaled the comforting scent emanating from the person in her arms. She couldn’t bear to imagine what might have happened to Ji Yuran tonight if she had arrived even a moment later.

Approaching the passenger door, Gu Muchu first helped Ji Yuran into the seat before circling around to the driver’s side.

Ji Yuran silently fastened her seatbelt. Gu Muchu shook the water off her umbrella and glanced at her, noticing the droplets clinging to the Omega’s long lashes. She couldn’t help but ask, “Are you cold?”

Remembering that Gu Muchu might be feeling unwell, Ji Yuran spoke up despite being wrapped in the trench coat, her voice muffled by the collar.

“A little.”

Her Mandarin, tinged with a northern accent, often unconsciously added the “er” sound, especially when she emphasized the word “点” (diǎn), as if discussing something serious and earnest. Yet the soft, cooing “er” at the end made it sound almost like she was pouting.

Gu Muchu paused, then chuckled softly, unconsciously repeating, “A little.”

Her voice was smooth and melodious, making the same words sound far more composed.

Ji Yuran’s cheeks flushed instantly, feeling Gu Muchu’s tone carried a hint of teasing.

I wasn’t deliberately acting cute…

Sensing her embarrassment, Gu Muchu didn’t press further. She turned on the car’s heater and wipers, the warm air quickly dispelling the lingering chill.

As the temperature steadily rose, Ji Yuran clutched her trench coat tightly, like a little turtle retreating into its shell. Her gaze darted around unconsciously, landing on a red paper box resting on the center console.

Gu Muchu’s hand remained steady on the steering wheel, guessing her thoughts. “I saw you buying these before and picked some up on the way.”

The wipers swept across the rain-streaked windshield, the reflected sky flickering in Ji Yuran’s eyes. She did love Tassi Desserts’ pastries, but the shop had no branches, with only one location in all of N City, forcing her to endure long queues every time.

The Omega’s heart fluttered slightly. When she pulled the pastries from the box, Gu Muchu heard a soft “wow,” like a kindergartener receiving the beautiful dress they’d been longing for.

Gu Muchu’s lips curved into a smile. On her way back from the airport, she’d spotted Tassi Desserts’ new seasonal offerings and waited in line for forty minutes. By the time she reached the hotel, the receptionist informed her that Ji Yuran had already left around ten.

When Ji Yuran didn’t answer her calls, Gu Muchu used her phone’s GPS to locate a nearby bus stop where she might be sheltering from the rain. Rushing there, she finally spotted Ji Yuran’s figure.

The Napoleon cakes were neatly stacked in a paper box. Ji Yuran picked up a small piece, the vanilla cream melting on her tongue, releasing a rich, sweet, milky aroma that was perfectly balanced by the crisp, flaky pastry.

This dessert was notoriously difficult to make, so it was no surprise there was a long queue. What surprised Ji Yuran was that Gu Muchu had patiently waited in line for her.

A ticklish sensation fluttered in her heart, making the sweet pastry seem even more intoxicating.

This was the most delicious dessert she had ever tasted.

While the Napoleon cake was exquisite, it was notoriously messy to eat, with flaky pastry crumbs scattering everywhere. Yet Ji Yuran was the first Omega Gu Muchu had ever seen eat so elegantly and enjoyably. Her cheeks puffed out slightly, and a barely noticeable smear of cream clung to the corner of her mouth.

“Is it good?” Gu Muchu asked, stopping at the crosswalk as the red light blurred through the rain-streaked windshield. Her gaze swept over the paper box before returning to Ji Yuran.

Ji Yuran turned around, chewing faster to answer quickly, looking like a delighted little hamster. Her peach blossom eyes widened as she stared at Gu Muchu.

Seeing her like this, Gu Muchu’s heart softened, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ji Yuran, embarrassed, hunched her neck like a quail. After finishing, she mumbled, “It’s… okay.”

Then, turning her back to Gu Muchu, she furtively pulled a mirror from her bag, like the kind a princess might use in a fairy tale. Holding the handle, Ji Yuran gently wiped a flaky pastry crumb from the corner of her mouth.

“What does ‘okay’ mean?” Gu Muchu couldn’t quite gauge Ji Yuran’s standards for deliciousness.

“Just… okay,” Ji Yuran replied, smoothing her hair. After tidying herself up, she sighed, unable to think of a better word. “Do… you want to try some?”

Gu Muchu pursed her lips, not refusing. She tilted her head slightly to the side and opened her mouth a little.

Silence filled the car.

When Ji Yuran remained motionless for a long moment, Gu Muchu tapped the steering wheel, her expression knowing. “What’s wrong? Being possessive of your food?”

“That’s not it!” Ji Yuran’s Alpha voice carried a hint of laughter, but her face flushed crimson with embarrassment and indignation.

Her sudden movement nearly knocked the paper box off her lap. Seeing Gu Muchu wouldn’t budge, Ji Yuran reluctantly picked out the largest piece from the box, secretly weighing it in her palm.

Finally, she made up her mind. Leaning forward, she raised her hand to bring the Napoleon pastry to Gu Muchu’s lips, supporting it with her other hand.

The unique fragrance of lemon and verbena, characteristic of Omegas, wafted through the air. Gu Muchu lowered her gaze to see Ji Yuran, looking as ripe as a fully ripened fruit, curled up in her trench coat, appearing delicate and petite. Her long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, and she didn’t even dare to look up at Gu Muchu.

Coward.

A faint smile curved the corner of Gu Muchu’s lips. She opened her mouth and took a bite. As if burned, Ji Yuran immediately withdrew her hand and obediently placed it on her knee, her gaze fixed resolutely ahead.

Every gesture of the Omega radiated childishness. Gu Muchu maintained her posture, her eyes fixed on Ji Yuran until the other woman grew visibly flustered. Then, her eyes curved into a smile. “It’s delicious.”

Ji Yuran resumed her fidgeting, tucking strands of hair behind her ear repeatedly, her face a mask of panic.

The yellow light flashed. Gu Muchu straightened up, but her attention remained fixed on the Omega beside her.

Ji Yuran’s gaze fell on the dwindling pastries in the box, as if slowly counting them with her eyes.

The things she loved were dwindling, which should have been a cause for regret. But this secret disappointment was diluted by Gu Muchu’s presence. Not just because Gu Muchu had bought them, Ji Yuran thought, but because even if she had bought this box of Napoleons herself today, she would have made the same choice.

She was willing to share her favorite things with Gu Muchu, realizing that letting go didn’t necessarily mean enduring pain.

The car slowly started moving as the rain gradually subsided, turning into a fine drizzle that slid down the windows like strands of hair, its rhythmic patter accompanying their synchronized breathing.

Gu Muchu savored the lingering sweetness in her mouth. She didn’t usually care for creamy pastries, but seeing Ji Yuran enjoy it so much earlier had made her impulsively want to try it.

The Napoleon cake tasted surprisingly good.

I should try new things more often, she thought, like creamy Napoleon cakes, or other unknowns.

“This is actually really good,” Gu Muchu finally offered her belated praise.

Ji Yuran turned to look at her, her eyes sparkling with delight at having her favorite treat appreciated by someone else. Realizing she was showing too much emotion, she quickly composed herself, muttering gruffly, “I think it’s just okay.”

“Then I’ll buy it again next time,” Gu Muchu said softly.

Thinking Gu Muchu hadn’t heard her clearly, Ji Yuran repeated herself, this time raising her voice deliberately, “I said it’s just okay!”

“I heard you! Both ears heard you!” Gu Muchu mimicked her tone, enunciating each word with exaggerated emphasis, even tilting her right ear playfully like a child. “I said I’ll wait in line to buy it for you next time!”

Given Ji Yuran’s awkward personality, even if she liked something very much, she would pretend not to care. Gu Muchu, well aware of this, always interpreted her “it’s okay” as “it’s absolutely fantastic.”

Having her fiery spirit subdued by Gu Muchu, Ji Yuran’s voice became as soft as if it were muffled in a jar. Her fingers fidgeted with the ribbon on the paper box. “Why waste time queuing for that…?”

Her words belied her true feelings.

Gu Muchu suppressed a laugh, seized by a mischievous impulse. She turned to Ji Yuran, deliberately adopting a gruff tone like a big bad wolf baring its claws. “Because I wanted to. What’s it to you?”

Her tone carried no real menace.

Ji Yuran was clearly startled by this unexpected reaction. Her dewy eyes stared at Gu Muchu in a daze, as if she had been reduced to tears by the scolding.

Snapping out of her reverie, she suddenly buttoned her trench coat all the way up, tucking half her head into the upturned collar. She turned away to gaze out the window.

The fine, dense rain, illuminated by the streetlights, traced its descent like drifting snowflakes, weaving a heart-stirring dream.

“Fine, do whatever you want!” Ji Yuran’s voice carried an inexplicable hint of pique.