The Scumbag Alpha Movie Queen Pampers Her Wife - Chapter 32

Her words were fervent and passionate, like the surface of a lake rippling under the scorching summer sun, sunlight piercing through the water to strike the depths below.

Ji Yuran’s nose tingled, and when she looked up at Gu Muchu with her tear-bright eyes, she felt her heart melting. It was as if she had once again stepped out of the pages of a book, flipping through the pages to see that proud and radiant Omega.

Gu Muchu raised her hand, her thumb gently caressing Ji Yuran’s cheek with a tenderness that made her voice hoarse from the cold. “I’ll wait for you.”

Feeling the warmth of Gu Muchu’s touch, Ji Yuran looked up, though she didn’t fully understand.

“You’re strong enough to keep up with me.” Gu Muchu had seen the true nature of Ji Yuran in the book—how she had climbed relentlessly, sacrificing everything to escape the control of her Original Self, until she finally stood at the summit.

Gu Muchu considered carefully. While her initial help had been partly selfish, she couldn’t deny that Ji Yuran had also lost her upward momentum in the comfortable environment she had created.

“How could I ever catch up to you… You’re so amazing.” Hearing her answer, Ji Yuran lowered her head in disappointment, her toe scuffing at the cracks between the paving stones.

Gu Muchu placed a hand on Ji Yuran’s head and gently ruffled her hair, just as she used to do. The Omega’s hair was soft and smooth, emitting a faint, sweet fragrance from the parted strands. She leaned down, lightly pressed her forehead against Ji Yuran’s, and quickly drew back, like a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Muchu asked softly, encouragingly. “You’re even more amazing than you think.”

Ji Yuran’s face flushed crimson, visibly buoyed by the praise. Her voice trembled with barely concealed excitement. “R-really?”

“Really.”

“Really?” Her insecurity always compelled her to ask repeatedly, needing consistent reassurance before her heart could truly settle.

“Really.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ji Yuran muttered, tugging her collar up to her neck and twisting it nervously. “I’m not as good as you say.”

Gu Muchu, half a head taller, had to lower her gaze slightly to meet Ji Yuran’s eyes. Seeing the warm breath steaming from beneath the collar like smoke, she flicked the stiff corner of the fabric with her fingertip and sighed deeply. “Ah…”

Straightening up, she feigned disappointment. “Just kidding.”

As expected, Ji Yuran, who had been watching Yu Guangzhong out of the corner of her eye, perked up immediately. She hurried to catch up with Gu Muchu and forcefully shoved her hand into Gu Muchu’s pocket, muttering a soft protest, “I don’t believe you!”

“Then don’t believe me,” Gu Muchu replied. The sudden intrusion of Ji Yuran’s icy hand prompted her to instinctively grasp it, warmth transferring between their palms. “I’m a liar.”

Ji Yuran’s eyes darted around playfully, her steps growing lighter with childlike exuberance.

N City blended the bustling energy of a metropolis with the intimate warmth of neighborhood corners. Under the stage-like glow of streetlights, small advertisements clung to weathered poles. The two women strolled leisurely, unknowingly drifting toward a secluded vintage shop.

The glass door reflected a warm, amber light, its retro ambiance drawing them in like a nostalgic embrace. Inside, antique items were arranged in seemingly haphazard displays that, upon closer inspection, followed a deliberate pattern.

Gu Muchu paused outside the door, nodding toward the shop with a lift of her chin. “Want to take a look inside?”

Ji Yuran glanced curiously at the shop and nodded. They pushed open the door one after the other, a crisp chime ringing overhead. Gu Muchu looked up to see a brass bell, like an exquisite ornament hanging from a Christmas tree.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman, sat behind the counter at the back of the store. Hearing the commotion, she peeked out briefly before retreating back into her seat.

Yuran wandered around casually, noticing that most of the items were unfamiliar relics from the ABO era. Only when she ventured deeper into the shop did a sense of familiarity begin to emerge.

Along the walls, discarded wind-up toys, antique clocks, and vintage radios lined the shelves. A small chalkboard nearby was densely covered with postcards, each pinned with thumbtacks and filled with heartfelt messages between couples.

“Want to write one?” The shopkeeper, chewing betel nut, noticed them approaching and pulled a delicate postcard from a drawer, placing it on the counter.

“Should we?” Ji Yuran glanced furtively at Gu Muchu, as if gauging her reaction.

Gu Muchu stopped, tilting her head to scan the postcards on the board. “Are these only for couples?”

“Ah… you’re right. I guess only people in love would bother writing such sappy things.” The Omega lowered her long lashes, her hand twitching in her pocket before settling back into stillness.

The shop was warmly heated, keeping each antique dry and preserving the memories locked within.

“Mm,” Gu Muchu finally murmured after a long silence, as if agreeing with Ji Yuran’s earlier words. Her voice was like a gust of wind stirring stagnant water, carrying a damp chill.

The incident was just a minor interlude, quickly forgotten. By the time they left the antique shop, Gu Muchu was carrying a plastic bag containing her newly purchased Polaroid camera.

Ji Yuran glanced at the bag swinging by Gu Muchu’s leg and said softly, “I thought people with your kind of money wouldn’t bother with something like this.”

“Hmm?” Gu Muchu leaned closer, suddenly amused. “So, what do you think?”

“Yuran,” she seemed to be pondering, finally blurting out, “The more expensive something is, the better.”

A shared understanding.

Gu Muchu’s shoulders shook with laughter. She poked Ji Yuran’s forehead with her index finger. “Being rich just means having money. It doesn’t mean being a sucker. Brands are a whole different thing.”

“Then what about qiegao?” Ji Yuran stood frozen, dazed by the poke. After a moment, she couldn’t resist asking, “What’s qiegao?”

Gu Muchu’s movements paused slightly. Realizing this world probably didn’t have it, she smoothly changed the subject. “Stop teasing and go stand over there.”

She tilted her chin toward the streetlight and reached into the plastic bag for the Polaroid camera, loading the film.

Ji Yuran, understanding she was about to be photographed, obediently murmured, “Okay,” and scurried under the streetlight, the hood of her jacket bouncing with each movement like the floppy ears of a little rabbit.

The Omega’s features, usually sharp and striking, softened under the night’s hazy glow, her distinct angles smoothing into a gentle beauty reminiscent of Gu Muchu. Those who attract each other also influence each other.

Gu Muchu aimed the lens. Their gazes met through the Polaroid’s screen, sparking a faint, fleeting warmth in the frigid air. She chuckled softly, counting down slowly, “Three, two, one…”

Ji Yuran stood with her hands in her pockets, her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed red. Loose strands of hair danced in the light, intertwining with the fine dust motes that swirled around her, gilded with a faint golden sheen. Only her deep, peach-blossom eyes, fixed on Gu Muchu, remained unwavering and piercing.

The undeveloped film slid out of the camera. Gu Muchu gripped its edge and gently rotated her wrist, shaking it. Ji Yuran, too impatient to wait, dashed over and was about to crane her neck to peek at the developing image when her view was blocked.

Gu Muchu held the photo at arm’s length, gazing intently at it before discreetly slipping it behind her back.

“That one’s blurry. Let’s take another,” Gu Muchu said, her voice devoid of emotion as she tucked the photo into her other pocket.

Ji Yuran, who hadn’t seen the photo, scratched her temple and reluctantly agreed, “Alright.”

“This time, make sure to take a good one,” Gu Muchu instructed, leaning against the lamppost with a serene smile.

Omegas rarely smiled, typically projecting an aloof and distant demeanor. Only in the presence of close acquaintances did they reveal their inner selves.

The second shot went smoothly. Ji Yuran examined it repeatedly, beaming with satisfaction. She reached for the Polaroid camera in Gu Muchu’s hand, eager to take a photo of her in return.

“It’s too cold. Let’s go home,” Gu Muchu said, stuffing the Polaroid into a plastic bag. Her voice sounded nasal, as if she were catching a cold.

“Understood,” Ji Yuran replied, suppressing her dissatisfaction. Despite her personal feelings, she couldn’t bear to let Gu Muchu freeze in the cold wind. After calming her emotions, she waited by the roadside for the taxi she had called.

Night had fallen, and the crescent moon hung dimly in the sky. The taxi glided through the deserted streets, the flickering streetlights casting rectangular shadows that danced across Gu Muchu’s lap. Her shoulder suddenly felt heavier; she realized Ji Yuran had fallen asleep without her noticing.

From her angle, Gu Muchu could admire the Omega’s thick, curled eyelashes and full, rounded lips. Her chest rose and fell with each even breath, making her look as docile as a loyal puppy resting at her feet.

Seeing no sign of Ji Yuran waking, Gu Muchu carefully and clumsily retrieved the unsent photograph from her pocket.

The dark filter deepened the shadows, accentuating the Omega’s crimson lips and pearly white teeth, her upturned smile brimming with joy.

This beauty, frozen in time, was exquisitely refined. The fluttering in Gu Muchu’s heart felt favored by the wind, her bl00d surging with a tingling, bittersweet sensation.

As the year drew to a close, December rolled by like a slow-moving wheel, leaving deep, indelible marks—the most memorable month of all.

Gu Muchu’s ambitious project, Youth, was a massive undertaking. Beyond post-production editing and special effects, the film had to undergo multiple rounds of censorship review. Factoring in scheduling, the earliest possible release date was mid-next year.

Having achieved both fame and fortune, Gu Muchu no longer felt the need to work herself to the bone, seamlessly transitioning from one project to the next. Now considered one of the industry’s hardest workers, she devoted much of her time to Ji Yuran.

The new drama they had been discussing for months was finally holding auditions. Preparations were in full swing, and as the audition day approached, both women felt a mix of anticipation and nerves.

Gu Muchu slipped the drama’s background information into Ji Yuran’s bag, reminding her repeatedly, “Don’t be too nervous. Li Kai is a relatively inexperienced director. You’ll have no trouble holding your own against the other actors.”

Ji Yuran mumbled, “This is my first TV drama audition…”

Having previously only played minor roles in web dramas, this marked her first foray into television. Moreover, she was auditioning for either the lead or the second lead role, making her anxiety inevitable.

“If you fail the audition, you’re coming straight back here,” Gu Muchu threatened, slinging Ji Yuran’s bag over her shoulder.

The Omega remained unfazed, gripping the bag’s strap and humming softly, “Just you wait.”

The audition venue was just a short walk from Wheat Grain Studio. After parking the car, Gu Muchu led Ji Yuran to the office building’s entrance.

The ground floor was spacious and empty. Following the signs, they quickly found the waiting area. Despite being a low-budget production, the room was crowded with auditionees, mostly unfamiliar faces with youthful, vibrant looks—like college students yet to enter the workforce.

The moment the two women entered the noisy waiting room, they drew everyone’s attention. Though their refined aura was undeniable, the tense atmosphere made it impossible for anyone to imagine that the renowned Gu Muchu would be here for an audition. After a brief glance, the crowd quickly averted their eyes.

Finding a secluded corner, they sat down. The loudspeaker was calling numbers, and Ji Yuran still had several people ahead of her. Now feeling the pressure, she flipped through her script, rehearsing her lines repeatedly, like a student struggling to memorize material that just wouldn’t stick.

Seeing her strained expression, Gu Muchu adjusted her sunglasses, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Struggling so much with just a few lines? As long as you capture the emotion, you’ll be fine.”

Ji Yuran stiffened her neck and muttered under her breath, “I’m not like you. What if I mess up?”

Her Mandarin was impeccable, without the nasal accent characteristic of N City. Gu Muchu loved hearing her clear, crisp voice—like the flowing water beneath the winter lake’s icy surface.

“You’re already doing great. Many popular traffic stars just recite numbers during filming, relying on post-production dubbing,” Gu Muchu said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cold, ornate iron chair.

Thanks to post-production dubbing, actors only needed to lip-sync during filming. Even with her good nature, Gu Muchu found it exasperating to work with such actors.

Ji Yuran tilted her head, about to reply, when her number was called. She quickly stood up and handed her things to Gu Muchu.

Gu Muchu winked at her. “Give it your best shot. I’m rooting for you.”

The Omega puffed out her right cheek, unaccustomed to such sincere encouragement, and nodded rapidly like a pecking chicken.

A cool breeze rushed in as the door swung open, only to be locked shut again moments later. Gu Muchu leaned against the wall, legs crossed, casually scrolling through Weibo when a shadow settled beside her on the iron chair.

She glanced up to see a young girl who had come to audition. Her hair was styled in pigtails, revealing a smooth forehead, and her face was brimming with gossip.

“Hey, who were you talking about earlier?” the girl leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

Gu Muchu’s attention shifted from Weibo to the two girls. She switched off her phone screen and asked, “Who?”

At that moment, the girl’s friend sidled up, offering a subtle reminder, “You were reciting lines and numbers earlier, weren’t you? And you said a lot of popular traffic stars love to throw their weight around on set?”

No matter their age, few can resist the allure of gossip, let alone these two young girls.

Gu Muchu fiddled with the charms on her phone, remaining silent. The situation she had described was from her previous world. In this one, she didn’t even recognize all the major celebrities.

“I’m sorry, I’m not very familiar with the area,” she said with an apologetic smile, pushing her sunglasses back up her nose to avoid eye contact.

Hearing such a bland answer, the girl with pigtails looked disappointed and muttered, “Tch~ I thought we were going to get some juicy gossip.”

Her short-haired companion, however, remained silent, studying Gu Muchu’s profile. Suddenly, she gasped, covering her mouth. “You… you’re…”

Noticing her friend’s strange reaction, the pigtail girl snapped out of her daze. “What’s with all the drama?”

She followed her friend’s gaze and froze when she saw Gu Muchu’s face.

Though sunglasses obscured most of her face, her striking facial contours and delicate chin were clearly visible, revealing her to be a woman of gentle elegance and undeniable beauty.

While actors known for their craft rarely attract the same frenzy as traffic stars, the recognition of Gu Muchu, a Best Actress with nationwide fame, was inevitable.

Having experienced such encounters countless times, Gu Muchu had long prepared a standard response. She casually removed her sunglasses, revealing her full face, and raised her voice slightly. “Well? Does it look like me?”

After saying this, she winked playfully at the two women.

As she spoke, the door opened, and Ji Yuran walked in. Having just finished her audition, her face still flushed from the emotional intensity of her performance. Seeing Gu Muchu surrounded by the two women, she hesitated, her eyes filled with suspicion, unsure whether to approach.

Noticing her entry, Gu Muchu waved casually. “Finished so soon? How did it go?”

Ji Yuran sat down to Gu Muchu’s right, offering a perfunctory “Mm-hmm.” Then she leaned forward, peering between the three women with half her face visible, her gaze darting between them.

The woman with pigtails and the one with the bobbed hair sensed the scent of gossip in the air, secretly speculating about the true relationship between Best Actress Gu Yinghou and the Omega before them.

Gu Muchu adjusted her glasses, turning her back to the two women to face Ji Yuran, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “These two think I look like Best Actress Gu Yinghou.”

The moment these words left her mouth, cold sweat instantly drenched Ji Yuran’s back. Her throat went dry, and she swallowed hard. “Impossible,” she managed to say.

If word got out that Gu Muchu had accompanied a struggling, no-name actress to an audition, the resulting scandal would be catastrophic.

“She had surgery to look like Gu Muchu,” the Omega said, feigning composure and even trying to push Gu Muchu away. “You’ve mistaken her for someone else.”

Gu Muchu finally withdrew her gaze, flashed a smile at the two women, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Just got my nose done. What do you think?” she asked, her fingertip tracing her brow bone and nose with feigned nonchalance, barely suppressing a laugh at Ji Yuran’s quick-thinking excuse.

The two women exchanged glances, their expressions shifting as they looked at Gu Muchu again. In their minds, the Best Actress was known for her reserved demeanor, ageless beauty, and aloof, eccentric temperament—certainly not as… approachable as she seemed now.

Seeing that their suspicions seemed to have been allayed, Ji Yuran secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Gu Muchu noticed these subtle cues and spread her hands helplessly. “What can I say? Who wouldn’t want to see Gu Yinghou’s face every day?”

The girl with the pigtails nodded in agreement, turning her gaze back to Ji Yuran. The Omega’s striking features and bold, vibrant beauty lent her an air of noble arrogance, making her seem anything but easy to approach.

In contrast, Gu Muchu and Ji Yuran, sitting together, made a surprisingly well-matched pair.

“I’m so jealous of you two,” the girl with the chin-length bob said, resting her chin in her hands, her eyes gleaming with envy. “You’re both so beautiful, and you even look like celebrities! Kissing must be such a treat for you.” She clearly misunderstood the nature of Gu Muchu and Ji Yuran’s relationship.

“I… I’m not with her!” Ji Yuran blurted out, startled by the comment. Unable to contain her emotions, she quickly distanced herself from Gu Muchu.

Clutching her knees, she curled up like a petulant child, vehemently explaining, “We’re just friends!”

Gu Muchu crossed her arms, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She nodded in mock agreement. “That’s right. She prefers the original to the knockoff.”

“Who prefers—” Ji Yuran sputtered, about to protest when the girl with the bob stood up, dragged a chair over, and plopped down directly in front of her, her eyes shining with excitement.

“You like Best Actress Gu too? Oh my god, she’s practically my goddess! High five, high five!” The girl grabbed Ji Yuran’s hand with surprising familiarity, shaking it vigorously before releasing it with a measured grip. “Still, your girlfriend’s plastic surgery is amazing! Even if she’s a fake, I’d still take her!”

“Since she’s your girlfriend, you must really like her, right?” The short-haired girl, once the topic of favorite actresses came up, instantly turned into a chatterbox, giving Ji Yuran no chance to speak.

“Well…” Ji Yuran hadn’t yet realized she’d fallen into the girl’s verbal trap. The refusal was already on her lips, impossible to retract.

Gu Muchu lowered her head, but her trembling shoulders betrayed how hard she was trying to suppress her laughter.

By the time Ji Yuran snapped out of her daze, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and continue the conversation with the short-haired girl.

“Have you seen Gu Yinghou’s Lost Loulan? The costumes and makeup are absolutely stunning! She brought Princess Xiaohe to life!” The short-haired girl launched into a litany of Gu Muchu’s virtues, even making the actress herself feel a bit embarrassed by the over-the-top praise.

Ji Yuran’s face flushed crimson as she dug her fingernails into the seam of her pants. The air around her seemed to thin. “Her acting is… decent, I guess.”

“Decent? She’s the Best Actress! Honestly, your girlfriend could easily be Gu Muchu’s body double!” The girl with pigtails quickly joined the conversation, her voice rising to a suppressed squeal in her excitement.

“She’s just using a stand-in for Gu Muchu. It’s fine,” Ji Yuran mumbled, trying to defend Gu Muchu in a low voice while catching her breath.

Her intention was to emphasize that Gu Muchu, as a professional actress, should focus on refining her skills and learning, rather than resorting to stand-ins to half-heartedly perform in her area of expertise.

Gu Muchu was clearly pleased by Ji Yuran’s words. During their walk, she leaned close to the Omega, deliberately whispering in a breathy tone, “Do you think I measure up to Gu Yinghou?”

“Can you stop messing around?!” Ji Yuran hissed through gritted teeth. Noticing the two fans’ gazes fixed on her, she forced herself to calm down. “Gu Yinghou is far more accomplished than you.”

“For example?” Gu Muchu asked, cracking her knuckles and feigning rapt attention.

Ji Yuran blurted out a compliment, never expecting Gu Muchu to take it seriously. She choked mid-sentence, feeling as if someone had built her a stage only to yank the steps away.

“For example… for example…” The words caught in her throat, refusing to come out. She fidgeted with her fingers, desperately trying to salvage the situation in front of the two young fans. Finally, she managed to squeeze out a few words: “She’s… beautiful.”

“Her acting is superb.”

“Everyone knows that. Tell me something they don’t know.” Gu Muchu had grown accustomed to such lavish praise; whether genuine or not, it could be applied to any Best Actress winner.

“Something they don’t know? You must be a hardcore fan!” The girl with pigtails and the one with the bob cut clearly misunderstood the exchange.

Under Gu Muchu’s intense gaze, Ji Yuran could only stammer out, word by word:

“She’s… she’s very kind. Her temper is so gentle.”

“And her emotions are so stable. She’s always encouraging and comforting, never putting on airs like a senior…”

“Mm, and she’s so considerate. If she could just tone down the jokes a bit, she’d be… she’d be perfect.”

By the end, Ji Yuran’s head was practically buried in the ground. Praising the person right in front of her felt incredibly awkward.

Hearing what she wanted to hear, Gu Muchu’s heart brightened. She put her sunglasses back on, leaned back in her seat, and turned to look at Ji Yuran. Through the tinted lenses, her eyes seemed to drift behind a thin veil of mist.

“I agree with everything she said.”