The Scumbag Alpha Movie Queen Pampers Her Wife - Chapter 17

The air fell silent for a moment, like the sharp sound of shattering porcelain silencing a noisy room. Ji Yuran paused her movements, sometimes marveling at Gu Muchu’s keen perception.

Gu Muchu’s dark eyes, cold and penetrating, took in the Omega’s subtle reaction as she gazed at Ji Yuran’s silhouette framed by the sliding glass door. Behind her, Ji Yuran’s gaze drifted aimlessly, the warm, gentle light failing to reach her eyes.

“Who bullied you?” Gu Muchu repeated, her voice firm with conviction that Ji Yuran had been wronged. Though she tried to make up for it, she couldn’t watch over her every moment. The thought of Ji Yuran being mistreated where she couldn’t see, and her own powerlessness to intervene, left her feeling utterly drained.

Ji Yuran rubbed her fingertips through her dark hair, the light giving it a glossy sheen. The hair mask had been completely absorbed, clearing the stifling air like tearing a hole in a curtain, allowing a gentle breeze to drift in.

She lowered her eyes and murmured, “No one.”

Seeing Ji Yuran’s reluctance to answer, Gu Muchu frowned slightly. She had always trusted her intuition, and now she began to speculate inwardly.

This person must wield considerable power or influence, or at the very least have extensive connections, enough to make Ji Yuran unwilling to provoke them.

Lost in thought, Gu Muchu was jolted back to reality by a soft hum. She glanced down and realized she had unconsciously gripped Ji Yuran’s wrist, tightening her hold. She wondered if she had hurt her.

Ji Yuran’s body stiffened, but she didn’t try to pull away, only muttering softly, “What are you doing? I’m still drying my hair.”

Gone was her usual fierce defiance, as if someone had clipped her sharp claws. Gu Muchu turned around, catching a rare glimpse of Ji Yuran’s vulnerable side.

With her petite frame, the bathrobe barely covered Ji Yuran’s pale knees. She lowered her head, staring at her toes, letting Gu Muchu’s gaze linger. The hairdryer fell silent in her hand.

“Tell me,” Gu Muchu coaxed, her voice soft and soothing, as if she were comforting a sulking lover.

Ji Yuran blinked, then reluctantly explained in a small voice, “I can handle my own problems.”

Gu Muchu knew Ji Yuran’s guarded nature and strong sense of boundaries. She refused to burden anyone with her troubles and disdained the undignified act of complaining.

But Gu Muchu was her Alpha.

Though their relationship remained undefined, a barrier seemed to stretch between them. Ji Yuran maintained strict boundaries, neither allowing Gu Muchu to cross them nor venturing out herself.

Gu Muchu wished she could be someone Ji Yuran could rely on, someone Ji Yuran didn’t have to walk on eggshells around in public.

Their shadows intertwined, stretching long and slanted across the floor. Ji Yuran’s hair, soft and fluffy, clung to her rounded shoulders, making her appear even more docile when she lowered her gaze.

Gu Muchu stood up, reached out to gently ruffle the top of Ji Yuran’s hair, and sighed, “You’re wonderful.”

“I know you don’t want to trouble me, so I won’t ask anymore,” she said, her voice softening into a light hum that seemed to resonate from her nasal cavity, making it feel like walking on cotton.

It was as if a breeze carrying the vitality of spring had knocked on Ji Yuran’s heart, stirring even her self-proclaimed heart of stone.

Gu Muchu, still holding a strand of Ji Yuran’s hair behind her, smiled when she felt it was almost dry. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

As she turned to leave, brushing past Ji Yuran’s shoulder, Ji Yuran moved. She averted her gaze, her expression awkward, and slowly said, “It’s… Guo Hao.”

Rain pattered against the glass, like beads strung on silver threads. Her voice was so soft it was almost drowned out by the rain.

Ji Yuran stood by the glass coffee table, the hairdryer tucked against her abdomen, her fingertips nervously tracing the switch. The coiled cord snaked across the sofa to the power strip. The dim light softened her sharp features, lending her an ethereal, dreamlike quality.

Gu Muchu was momentarily dazed, but only for a blink. The Omega gazed at her with a pitiful expression. “It was Guo Hao,” she said.

Who it was didn’t matter; what mattered was that she had chosen to speak to Gu Muchu first.

Even if it was an unpleasant memory.

Gu Muchu suddenly felt like laughing, her chest swelling with warmth, bubbles of affection bubbling up inside her. Leaning against the wall, she crossed her arms and watched Ji Yuran. The bathrobe’s sash accentuated Ji Yuran’s slender figure, her fingertips lightly touching, separating, and touching again—a strangely endearing gesture.

The Little Lion seemed hesitant, instinctively avoiding Gu Muchu’s gaze and pouting as if displeased.

I’ve even told you his name, her expression seemed to say. Why aren’t you saying anything to help me get revenge?

Yet Gu Muchu deliberately remained silent, imagining Ji Yuran’s cold exterior concealing a tempest of emotions within. This stark contrast only amplified her endearing charm.

A soft chuckle, like a switch being flipped, dispersed the awkward tension between them like dissipating clouds.

A crimson blush slowly crept up Ji Yuran’s cheeks and earlobes, like a rising tide. Feeling mocked, she resumed her fidgeting, her small movements growing more frantic.

“What are you laughing at?” she demanded, venting her frustration on the hairdryer. She hastily wound the cord around the handle, only to yank the plug out with a snap, sending it crashing to the floor.

Noticing Ji Yuran’s embarrassment, Gu Muchu suppressed her amusement, straightened her posture, and feigned seriousness. “I wasn’t laughing.”

Ji Yuran’s expression visibly darkened. She folded the hairdryer, placed it on the coffee table, and glared fiercely at Gu Muchu. “I don’t want to talk to you!”

With these petulant words, she turned to retreat to the master bedroom, only to find Gu Muchu blocking the doorway.

Her fiery temper instantly fizzled out. Ji Yuran lowered her head, unwilling to engage in a staring contest. “Move aside,” she mumbled.

Gu Muchu lowered her gaze, silently studying the Omega who stood half a head shorter than her. After a moment’s contemplation, she spoke in a low, muffled voice, mimicking Ji Yuran’s tone, “You move aside.”

“Don’t mimic me,” Ji Yuran glared at her. Gu Muchu ignored her, repeating another phrase.

This time, Ji Yuran truly panicked, instinctively stamping her foot. “Stop mimicking me…”

By the end of her sentence, her voice trembled with a sob, her nose drawing in a whimpering sound like a newborn kitten.

Gu Muchu’s heart twinged, and she felt flustered and helpless. She suddenly realized she had a talent for playing the villain—it only took two sentences to drive the Omega before her to the point of whimpering.

I can’t just bully her because I’m older, she thought.

Intending to cheer Ji Yuran up, Gu Muchu leaned closer to listen. The subtle sounds amplified, her nostrils twitching as if catching the scent of the other woman’s pheromones—like freshly squeezed lemon juice on a summer afternoon, refreshing and comforting.

Gu Muchu softened her breathing, careful not to startle her, and teased, “Whose kettle’s whistling? It’s been whimpering non-stop.”

Ji Yuran chuckled, then quickly pursed her lips, realizing the atmosphere had shifted.

“Oh, it’s mine, then,” Gu Muchu drawled casually.

Ji Yuran’s heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason, then began to pound rapidly against her chest. Sweat dampened her palms, though she couldn’t tell if it was from anger or nervousness. She was so mortified she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, the corners of her eyes flushed a delicate crimson.

Her aloof and dignified demeanor, so carefully maintained in public, crumbled completely in Gu Muchu’s presence.

She pushed Gu Muchu away, her voice fluctuating wildly. “Get away from me.”

Despite her efforts, only she ended up flailing around. Gu Muchu suspected Ji Yuran was just being coy again. Having caught a glimpse of the Omega’s smile earlier, she’d relaxed, finally yielding slightly to Ji Yuran’s push and swaying backward.

Ji Yuran practically buried her face in her collar. Seeing this, Gu Muchu crouched down and leaned around to peer at her face. “Are you crying?”

It was just like when they were kids, when Gu Muchu would tease her classmates until they cried, then duck under the desk to peek at them, gleefully asking, “Are you crying?”

Ji Yuran glanced up, her eyes meeting Gu Muchu’s deep, dark gaze. She quickly averted her gaze, enunciating each word with deliberate seriousness. “If you don’t back off, I swear I’ll…”

“I won’t tease you anymore,” Gu Muchu sighed, reaching out to ruffle Ji Yuran’s hair again—a gesture that had become an ingrained habit. This time, however, Ji Yuran deftly dodged her hand.

Gu Muchu’s hand hovered in mid-air for a moment before she reluctantly withdrew it, stepping slightly aside. “Feeling better now?”

She realized that when provoked, the Omega could only muster a brief flash of anger, unable to mount any real retaliation.

“Hmph,” Ji Yuran huffed, clearly still seething from Gu Muchu’s teasing.

Gu Muchu chuckled. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

As soon as the words left her lips, the master bedroom door cracked open a sliver. Ji Yuran, as nimble as an eel, slipped inside before Gu Muchu could react and ruthlessly slammed the door shut.

Gu Muchu turned and stared at the intricate floral carvings on the door for a long moment before tapping lightly.

“What?!” came the muffled, irritated reply from inside. Gu Muchu guessed Ji Yuran had retreated under the covers in embarrassment again.

A childhood memory surfaced: a frog hand puppet from the children’s channel, its mouth snapping open and shut with each squeeze of the hand, its movements oddly reminiscent of Ji Yuran’s expressions. A smile tugged at Gu Muchu’s lips as she leaned close to the door, her clear, crisp voice carrying through the crack.

“Elder sister will definitely get revenge for Yuran.”

There was no response from within.

“Good night.”

Inside the master bedroom, the ceiling light glowed softly like a pale moon, while the neon lights flickering outside cast lurid shadows that outlined the furniture. A faint bulge rose from the bed, and a bright, flushed face emerged from the warm covers.

Ji Yuran strained her ears, confirming that the footsteps outside had faded away, before collapsing back into her cocoon-like blanket.

The lingering scent of Gu Muchu’s perfume clung to her skin. She blinked, pulled the blanket over her head, and whispered softly, “Good night.”

Waking up, Gu Muchu rubbed her temples and opened her eyes to stare at the empty ceiling, realizing it was already mid-morning.

As she threw back the covers and sat up, a wave of dizziness washed over her. She staggered, grabbing the edge of the bed to steady herself, nearly falling to the floor. A buzzing sound filled her ears, and swallowing felt like knives scraping her throat.

At first, she thought it was just a mild cold. She dragged her weary body to the bathroom to wash up, then fumbled for her phone on the nightstand and called Ling Xin.

The call connected after two rings. Ling Xin’s surroundings were noisy, and her voice was barely audible. “Miss Gu, yesterday’s flight was delayed until today. Can you make it this afternoon? I’ll have Lan Jing pick you up.”

Lan Jing was the young assistant from yesterday, fresh out of college. She’d secured the position through family connections, but fortunately, she was efficient and quick-witted, so Gu Muchu had no objections.

Gu Muchu pulled back the curtains, instinctively squinting against the harsh sunlight. The day remained overcast and rainy, the lush greenery below glistening with moisture, swaying gently in the wind.

Half-listening to Ling Xin’s words, Gu Muchu suddenly remembered the flight had been rescheduled for tonight.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she felt the burning heat. Realizing she was genuinely ill, she didn’t commit immediately. “Let’s cancel today. We’ll figure it out later. Please inform Sister Ling and the director.”

Through the phone’s earpiece, the other party seemed to sense her unease, offering a few words of concern before ending the call.

Staring at the darkened screen, Gu Muchu slowly regained her composure. She stepped out of her room, intending to find some medicine in the living room. As she passed Ji Yuran’s door, she noticed it was quiet inside, indicating Ji Yuran was still asleep.

Gu Muchu found a stool, climbed onto it, and stretched on tiptoe to reach the top wooden cabinet. After rummaging through the contents, she finally found a box of cold medicine that hadn’t expired. The original owner of her body had been remarkably healthy, rarely falling ill for years. Even minor colds hadn’t required medication, making this illness an unusual setback.

Gu Muchu sighed as she heard the door behind her open. Ji Yuran, just awakened, poked her fluffy head out, her hair slightly disheveled. This softened her usually sharp, striking features, making her appear endearingly dazed.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Gu Muchu asked cautiously, her slippers landing softly on the floor.

Ji Yuran didn’t answer immediately. After a moment of surprise, her expression shifted to deep guilt. She recognized the slight nasal quality in Gu Muchu’s voice and, combined with her pale complexion, guessed it was from getting caught in the rain the previous night.

“Gu Muchu, are you sick?”

The Omega gripped the doorframe, her eyes glistening with lingering sleepiness as she gazed at the medicine box in Gu Muchu’s hand.