The Scumbag Alpha Movie Queen Pampers Her Wife - Chapter 22

Sunlight danced across the glazed tiles, cascading onto the vermilion-painted covered corridor. Interrupted by the wooden pillars, it cast imperfect, angular shadows on the ground.

The film set buzzed with activity as crew members and actors clustered around the central set. The actors preparing for their scene had taken safety precautions, and under the Director’s instructions, amplified through a megaphone, they rehearsed the scene repeatedly, refining each take.

Gu Muchu sat nearby, her body cradled in a comfortable, streamlined moon chair. A script lay on her lap, marked with a few handwritten notes.

Dressed in a deep purple official robe, its sleeves embroidered with intricate, subtly golden patterns that shimmered with each movement, she wore dark sunglasses that concealed most of her Alpha features. A ceremonial ivory tablet used in filming was clipped to the script.

Despite the mild temperature, beads of sweat glistened on Lan Jing’s nose. She fanned herself vigorously. Noticing this, Gu Muchu shifted her posture and nodded toward the nearby lounge. “If you’re hot, go rest in there for a while.”

Lan Jing was flattered but quickly shook her head. “No, no, Sister Gu, I want to stay with you.”

Noticing her assistant’s uneasy expression, Gu Muchu glanced over and spotted a man in the lounge area. Her gaze froze.

“Is that Guo Hao?”

She had only seen his photo in online news feeds and never imagined he would be so… indescribable in person.

Guo Hao sported dyed yellow hair against his dark skin. His droopy, single-lidded eyes exuded a listless air, and his entire demeanor radiated a sleazy vibe.

He was currently smoking, the crimson sparks carrying wisps of smoke that made nearby people frown, yet none dared to speak up.

The power of fan filters is truly formidable, Gu Muchu mused.

Her assistant replied indignantly, “Yeah, he doesn’t even have any scenes today. I wonder why he’s here.”

Lan Jing clearly disliked Guo Hao, spitting out a quiet curse. Gu Muchu, however, remained calm, removing her sunglasses and idly twirling them by the temple with her thumb. “His manager came to see me yesterday,” she said casually.

“Huh?” Lan Jing’s attention snapped to her, disbelief flashing across her face. Recalling previous industry rumors, she fell into a brief silence.

Such encounters were common enough. She could guess why Guo Hao had sought out Gu Muchu.

Guo Hao, standing nearby, felt a gaze land on him. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushed it under his shoe, and looked up, his eyes meeting Gu Muchu’s.

The Alpha’s expression was cold and detached as she lounged casually in her moon chair. Instead of avoiding his gaze, she met it head-on.

Her theatrical costume concealed the strategic brilliance of a courtier. Guo Hao had once heard others describe Gu Muchu:

Her face is like flowing water—serene and smooth when calm, yet her personality clashes sharply with her appearance. This stark contrast makes her captivating on the big screen.

Too bad she’s an Alpha.

Their gazes locked in the air, their shared Alpha status turning the brief exchange into a silent contest of wills.

Gu Muchu smirked inwardly, the corners of her lips curling upward, though the smile failed to reach her eyes.

Despite their shared status, Guo Hao, feeling the pressure from the stronger Alpha’s gaze, lowered his head.

Yao Jinfeng, who was briefing him on key points, noticed his distraction and glanced toward Gu Muchu, understanding dawning in her eyes.

She must think this is all thanks to my efforts, Yao Jinfeng thought, feeling a surge of smug satisfaction.

Lan Jing, unable to tear her eyes away from Gu Muchu and Guo Hao, muttered under her breath, “Sister Gu, you and that deadbeat Guo Hao… all he has is a bit of family money.”

Her resentment toward those with connections was palpable.

Gu Muchu nodded in agreement. “After all, he was forced on us by the producers. We can’t really do much about it.”

“But Sister Gu, you’re just as good as him!” Lan Jing blurted out, then quickly clamped her mouth shut, realizing her mistake. She stole glances at the faces around her.

Fortunately, Gu Muchu didn’t seem to mind. The glare of the sunlight made her put her sunglasses back on. After blinking a few times, she beckoned Lan Jing over with a flick of her finger.

It was just an ordinary gesture, but the young assistant couldn’t shake the feeling that Gu Muchu was brewing some mischief.

She shuffled closer, bent down, and pressed her ear to Gu Muchu’s lips, listening intently to her instructions.

When she finally understood, Lan Jing’s eyes widened. Her gaze darted between Gu Muchu and Guo Hao, her expression conflicted. “Sister Gu, that’s… that’s too mean!”

The young woman, fresh out of school, still carried a righteous spirit. She launched into a lengthy, impassioned argument against the plan, only to reluctantly agree in the end, feigning reluctance.

“Who can blame me? I can’t stand Guo Hao either. A little lesson is good for him!”

A secret smile bloomed on Gu Muchu’s lips. In high spirits, she couldn’t wait to brag to Ji Yuran.

She opened her phone’s camera app. A few wisps of clouds drifted across the pale, azure sky, framed by the grid lines of the camera app.

Flipping the camera around, Gu Muchu struck a poised pose for a selfie, then began meticulously editing it.

“Sister Gu, you know I’m here for you,” her assistant said hesitantly. “The studio can also help with your captions.”

Gu Muchu didn’t even look up, replying absently, “I know.”

After perfecting the photo, she opened her chat with Ji Yuran and sent it.

First Light of Dusk: On set.

Her tone was like a big, eager dog begging for praise. After a moment of silence, Ji Yuran finally replied.

Little Lion: I’m not your Weibo.

This response inexplicably tickled Gu Muchu’s funny bone. She found it utterly delightful.

Scrolling through their chat history, she realized she was always the one initiating conversations, sharing trivial details from the set. Though Ji Yuran’s replies were brief, she never missed a single one.

Trivial matters sounded dull and tedious: the first leaf of autumn turning yellow, chicken br3ast at dinner replaced with salmon slices, shower gel smelling remarkably similar to her favorite perfume.

In stark contrast, Ji Yuran never initiated conversation. Gu Muchu guessed she might be busy, but surely she could send at least one message?

Little white wolf.

The thought flashed through her mind, but her fingers continued typing without pause.

Of course you’re not my Weibo.

These are all yours alone.

As messages popped up in the chat window, the “The other party is typing…” indicator above her name disappeared, returning to its usual display. After a long pause, a reply finally appeared.

Smooth talker.

The same words every time, yet neither of them ever grew tired of it.

Gu Muchu shrugged slightly, her eyes brimming with laughter. Bathed in the streaming sunlight, she seemed to glow with a warm, golden aura.

After laughing, she lifted her long lashes and gazed at the scenery beyond the corridor, pondering how to respond to Ji Yuran.

No, I’m not! I’m just clumsy with words and always end up making you angry.

On the other end, Ji Yuran’s rebellious streak flared, prompting her to type out a rare, lengthy reply.

I’m not petty enough to hold a grudge against you.

Immediately following the text was an “I don’t care” emoji: a cute, pale-yellow kitten with its arms crossed, a bright red anger symbol hovering above its head.

The image was vividly expressive.

Gu Muchu’s thumb hovered over the emoji. She long-pressed the image and saved it, wanting to send Ji Yuran one in return to avoid seeming old-fashioned.

However, when she opened the emoji panel, all that remained were the dice-rolling and rock-paper-scissors options, with a lone plus sign at the far left.

For the first time, she felt utterly emoji-poor.

She switched off her phone screen and turned to her assistant, Xiao Lan, beside her, her expression serious.

“Xiao Lan.”

Lan Jing, engrossed in scrolling through videos, immediately closed the app when she heard Gu Muchu’s voice. She turned to the Alpha beside her with unwavering focus.

Usually, at times like this, Gu Muchu had something important to delegate.

Instead, Gu Muchu held up her phone. “Do you have any emojis? Send me a few.”

Lan Jing froze, staring at her with a horrified expression. She leaned forward slightly, as if she hadn’t heard correctly, until the words finally registered. Then, she asked uncertainly, “What kind of emojis?”

“Sister Gu… is it… is it that kind of thing?”

Just to be safe, it was better to clarify.

Gu Muchu pondered for a moment, then opened her chat with Ji Yuran and slowly described the emoji, “Cute, preferably a little wronged.”

She added, “Not the flirty kind, those are too frivolous.”

Despite her curiosity, Lan Jing didn’t dare voice her questions. After a long “Oh,” she finally opened her emoji collection. Amidst the “Received” and “Exploding Earth” stickers, she managed to find a few cute ones and sent them over.

Gu Muchu saved the emojis, murmured a soft thank you, and immediately used one.

First Light of Dusk: [Little Penguin Pouting]

The image showed a handmade penguin, its soft, fluffy gray and white fur making it utterly adorable. Its tiny hands rested on its white belly, and its round, teary eyes gazed up pitifully. Beside it were the words: “Pouting.”

On the other end, Ji Yuran was bending down, tidying up her things. When she saw the message, the water cup in her hand nearly tipped over. She stared at the little penguin for a long moment, her cheeks slowly puffing out as she muttered under her breath, “What’s there to pout about…”

She sent the exact words back.

Gu Muchu didn’t answer directly. She scrolled down to a recent selfie, quoted it, and added a period.

So, what do you think? Am I pretty, sis?

The coquettish plea for praise was unmistakable.

Gu Muchu’s heart felt like it had been scratched by tiny claws, leaving her restless and uneasy. She longed for Ji Yuran’s approval, to the point of obsession.

In the photo, the Alpha’s features were relaxed, her gentle eyes curving into a slightly deeper slant at the corners, the sunlight illuminating their pale amber hue, shimmering with an irresistible allure.

Ji Yuran felt as if the woman in the photo was looking directly at her, a strange sense of destiny bridging the distance between them.

Her breath quickened and deepened.

Just average.

Even this lukewarm compliment brought a radiant smile to Gu Muchu’s face, instantly dispelling her earlier unease. She solemnly sent back a penguin emoji nodding in agreement.

True, I could never compare to you.

So, can I look at you?

Realizing the ambiguity of her words, Gu Muchu quickly clarified:

Just look at your photos.

Though they spoke on the phone every day, it had been at least half a month since they’d last seen each other.

Gu Muchu wondered if Ji Yuran had gained or lost weight.

A stuffy feeling pressed against her chest. Perhaps the day’s rising temperature was making her restless. She tugged down the collar of her costume, letting a rush of cool air fill her lungs, finally easing the discomfort.

Silence stretched from the other end of the line.

Just as she was about to assume Ji Yuran would reject her unreasonable request, her phone buzzed with a notification.

Little Lion: [Image]

Gu Muchu glanced at the clock—ten minutes had already passed.

The photo showed the Omega dressed in a French chiffon dress, her curly hair pinned up at the back of her head. A light layer of foundation covered her face, creating a fresh, understated look.

She had taken a selfie in front of a mirror, her cheek turned slightly to reveal her delicate earlobe and wisps of hair framing her face. The usual bright, aloof aura had softened into an unexpectedly sweet charm.

Gu Muchu’s gaze deepened as her thumb unconsciously brushed across Ji Yuran’s cheek in the photo.

First Light of Dusk: Dressed so beautifully—are you going out?

Before she could add “Be careful,” a reply arrived.

No.

Can’t I dress up at home if I want to?

The last sentence betrayed the Omega’s true temperament, shattering her carefully constructed image of docility. Gu Muchu suppressed a laugh and sent back, “Of course you can.”

After zooming in on the photo, Gu Muchu noticed the uneven foundation on Ji Yuran’s face, a telltale sign of a rushed application.

The girl’s carefully concealed feelings burst like a colorful bubble, spilling out the tender secrets of her heart. Gu Muchu’s throat tightened, and after swallowing hard, her lips curved into a crescent-moon smile.

She could feel Ji Yuran’s genuine affection for her.

Deleting the “Stay Safe” message, Gu Muchu recalled the Omega’s delicate sensibilities and decided against pointing out the flaw.

Very beautiful.

The simple words, devoid of flattery or excessive praise, conveyed a raw sincerity that resonated deeply. Ji Yuran’s heart, which had been pounding like a drum, suddenly settled into a steady rhythm.

Gu Muchu chuckled softly, saved the photo, and looked up to find Lan Jing staring at her with a peculiar expression.

Clearing her throat, Gu Muchu subtly tilted her phone screen, her cool voice sounding detached. “Have you finished the task I assigned you?”

Lan Jing’s mind automatically translated the underlying meaning: You’re getting in the way.

Suppressing her burning curiosity, Lan Jing quickly offered, “Sister Gu, I’ll find someone right away to handle this perfectly!”

With that, she bolted, leaving a trail of dust in her wake, glancing back nervously after only a few steps.

Gu Muchu was chatting with someone, her entire being radiating vitality. The composure and detachment she usually carried, honed over years in the industry, had vanished, replaced by a vibrant energy. It was as if gnarled, withered branches had suddenly sprouted tender yellow blossoms.

She must be in love, the observer thought.

Lost in their conversation, Gu Muchu and Ji Yuran remained oblivious to the curious glances around them.

First Light of Dusk: Be careful and stay safe when you’re out, okay?

Previously, Ji Yuran had resisted any attempts to control her. Today’s response, however, was unusually compliant.

Little Lion: I will.

Gu Muchu sensed something was off.

First Light of Dusk: Has something happened recently?

Ji Yuran rarely shared details about her life, and Gu Muchu occasionally felt a pang of guilt for this.

I know nothing about her life.

Though she respected Ji Yuran’s privacy, ever since glimpsing that fleeting ray of light, Gu Muchu had felt an urge to pierce the oppressive darkness and explore hidden corners.

Gu Muchu swiped upward on her phone, but the message list stubbornly refused to refresh. She clicked her tongue softly, unconsciously tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her curled hand suddenly relaxing.

Each time she waited for Ji Yuran’s messages, it felt like anticipating a gift about to arrive.

Gu Muchu adored this awkward Omega. What others saw as a difficult personality, she found endearing.

It reminded her of her high school days, when a stray kitten would always cling to the window during her morning study sessions.

Just then, the Director’s voice boomed through a megaphone from afar: “Actors for Scene 7, take your positions!”

Sighing at the lack of a reply, Gu Muchu set her mineral water bottle on the moon chair, rose, and sent a voice message before leaving:

“I’m heading to set. Send it over first, and I’ll definitely reply as soon as I see it.”

With that, she turned off her phone screen and signaled for the staff to adjust her makeup and wardrobe.

Meanwhile, behind tightly drawn curtains, the faint sunlight illuminated swirling dust motes, casting the Omega sitting on the bed in stark relief. Clutching a teddy bear, she meticulously typed out a message, word by word, until her phone vibrated.

She pressed the speaker to her ear, letting the Alpha’s gentle voice soothe her restless heart. It was a heart-stirring promise, one that meant all her pent-up desires for sharing would finally find their outlet, never to be disappointed.

Ji Yuran froze for a moment, staring at the draft of her emotionally charged message. A sudden wave of sadness washed over her. She pressed and held the delete key until the text box was empty.

Never mind. I can handle this alone.

As the launch date for Ji Yuran’s new drama drew closer, Gu Muchu discussed with the Director, who readily agreed to condense her scenes into a single shoot, barely freeing up three days for a break.

Gu Muchu replied to Ji Yuran that she wouldn’t attend the launch event, but secretly planned a surprise for her.

The airport buzzed with activity, its windows gleaming and standard female voice announcements echoing through the hall. Having left Lan Jing behind, she handled everything herself. After checking her luggage, she donned sunglasses and a mask, then left the business class lounge.

Her long trench coat gave her a sharp, capable air, drawing envious glances from many.

With half an hour until boarding, Gu Muchu, feeling restless, decided to browse the nearby specialty shops.

Remembering her pitiful Little Lion back home, she adjusted her glasses. She couldn’t return from S City without bringing Ji Yuran a small gift.

Gu Muchu casually stepped into a crystal shop. Rows of illuminated glass display cases bathed the various crystals in a lustrous glow.

The saleswoman hurried over as soon as she saw a customer.

“Miss, are you looking for any particular crystal?” she asked warmly, secretly sizing up Gu Muchu.

Gu’s Jewelry was a brand personally built by Gu Yiqiong. As a shareholder, she occasionally designed niche pieces, most of which ended up in the group’s lower-end lines. Gu Muchu, having previously endorsed numerous fashion brands, possessed a basic understanding of crystals.

After surveying the selection, none met her satisfaction. Most were overpriced with inconsistent quality.

Frowning slightly, she was about to leave when she noticed a pair of rings displayed in a showcase near the entrance.

The rings were made of silver, with diamonds embedded to form a swan. As a couple’s set, the swans’ necks mirrored each other, perfectly forming a complete heart.

However, being silver, the rings’ value lay primarily in their design, keeping the price modest.

The saleswoman followed Gu Muchu’s gaze and immediately perked up, eagerly approaching the showcase to promote the rings.

“Miss, what do you think of these?”

Gu Muchu had initially only glanced at them, but seeing the saleswoman’s enthusiasm, she nodded. “Take them out for a closer look.”

Without the showcase lights, the couple’s rings appeared slightly dull, resting quietly in their red velvet box. The saleswoman eagerly began explaining the design concept behind the rings.

Unfortunately, Gu Muchu wasn’t listening at all. She picked up one of the rings, pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, and turned it over.

The swan ring had an abstract design, but its distinctive features made it instantly recognizable as a swan.

She had long thought that Ji Yuran’s fair skin, which seemed almost translucent in sunlight, would be perfectly suited for silver jewelry.

Especially a swan ring…

Remembering Ji Yuran’s feigned haughtiness, Gu Muchu chuckled softly, gazing at the person through the pair of rings. Yet she hesitated.

She asked the saleswoman, “Can I give this ring to a friend?”

The saleswoman initially misunderstood, her gaze falling on the red velvet box. “Yes, you can, but these rings are sold as a pair…”

The implication was clear: Gu Muchu would have to buy both rings. If she gave one to Ji Yuran, the other should ideally go to her partner.

But Ji Yuran’s partner was herself.

Gu Muchu’s head began to ache. She tried to reassure herself. In the past, giving gifts to friends had never felt awkward. But now, giving this to Ji Yuran stirred a sense of unease within her.

She subconsciously wanted to distance herself from Ji Yuran, not as a deliberate act of avoidance, but as a reflection of a growing ideological divide. Perhaps her recent transformation into an Alpha, with her identity still in flux, was causing her to feel a sense of otherness toward Ji Yuran, who remained an Omega.

It was like how humans are drawn to what they lack.

Gu Muchu held the matching rings, slowly bringing them together with one hand to form a heart shape. The swans’ necks intertwined, symbolizing their plunge into love.

A sudden cold sweat broke out on her back. She feigned nonchalance as she returned the rings to their box and closed it. “I don’t want these.”

Hearing this, the saleswoman retrieved the box from the display. A cool female voice came from behind.

“Do you have any other rings?”

Matching couple rings easily sparked speculation, but ordinary ones wouldn’t.

Just a ring, Gu Muchu thought. No need to dwell on it.

Perhaps because her palms were damp, it took her a while to firmly grip the phone in her pocket. She opened the saved photo.

Zooming in, the hands taking the mirror selfie became visible.

Gu Muchu covered her face and showed the screen to the saleswoman, asking softly, “Do you have rings in this size?”

The saleswoman sized it up with her eyes, mentally calculating. “Yes, we do,” she replied with a smile. “Where will you be wearing it?”