As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 26.1

“Little miss, slow down! Be careful!” The middle-aged woman chased anxiously after the toddler dashing ahead on her short legs.

“Mommy!” Bai Xia barreled into her arms, clinging tightly to her legs with wide, shining eyes. The little tuft of hair tied up by Aunt Han had come loose, leaving her head a messy tangle.

Bai Qingqiu bent down, scooped her up, and gently undid the elastic. At once, the child’s soft hair tumbled down in a fluffy halo, making her look like a little Monchhichi doll.

That fine, silky hair—she had inherited it from Gu Yining.

At the thought of Gu Yining, Bai Qingqiu lowered her gaze to the child in her arms. Bai Xia was nestled against her neck, clinging with complete trust. The faint smile on Bai Qingqiu’s lips dimmed.

She had agreed to let Gu Yining leave. She had also chosen, on her own, to bring Bai Xia into this world. Acceptance was one thing—but over the years, alongside the fading guilt, resentment had quietly taken root.

On the day Gu Yining left, when Aunt Han was tidying up, she stumbled upon the temporary school ID Bai Qingqiu had made the day she and Gu Yining first met.
By coincidence, that day marked their fifth anniversary.

From the day they met, Gu Yining had loved her for five years. And when she decided to leave, it took her only a few days—decisive and merciless, nothing like the clingy, coquettish Gu Yining she once knew. Not a trace of hesitation remained.

Bai Qingqiu had thought she wouldn’t care.

After all, she had never loved Gu Yining with the same fervor.

But the memories remained. Through the endless nausea of pregnancy, retching until she had nothing left to vomit; through the searing pain of childbirth; through the awkward questions from kindergarten teachers about whether Bai Xia had another parent—each time, she saw again that resolute back turning away from her. And the unfairness, the bitterness, the lingering grievance outweighed any guilt.

She did care. She couldn’t help but care—about why Gu Yining had been able to walk away so ruthlessly.

Besides, Bai Xia was not hers alone. The older the girl grew, the more her resemblance to Gu Yining emerged. Every time Bai Qingqiu looked at her, it felt like being pulled back to those days when Gu Yining hovered by her side, coaxing and flattering.

And so, she still didn’t know how to face her daughter.

Fortunately, Aunt Han was an exceptional nanny. She had never pried—never asked why Gu Yining left or who Bai Xia’s other parent was. She simply stayed, dependable and loving, whenever Bai Qingqiu was away.

Two months after giving birth, Bai Qingqiu had already returned to the company. By all accounts, Bai Xia was raised by Aunt Han.

Just as she’d feared from the beginning—she wasn’t a good mother.

“Mommy, don’t be sad. Xia Xia will kiss it better.”

The childish voice tugged her back to the present. A pair of wet little lips pressed against her cheek. Those bright, innocent eyes stared at her without blinking.

“I’m not sad.”

Bai Qingqiu pinched her tiny, upturned nose.

At least for now, she had no intention of telling Bai Xia about her and Gu Yining. Adults had their matters, children theirs. If the day came when Bai Xia asked about her other mother, she would tell her—her other mother’s name was Gu Yining.

“Tomorrow you’ll be on that program. Are you sure you want to go?” Bai Qingqiu shifted the chubby ball in her arms into the other hand.

“Yes!”

The child nodded eagerly, her fluffy hair bouncing like a dancing dandelion.

“You won’t see Mommy for three whole days, you know.”

Bai Qingqiu teased her deliberately.

At that, Bai Xia’s face fell. She twisted her mother’s ear in frustration—gently, just enough to tickle.

After a long moment, she buried her face into her mother’s neck and mumbled, “I’ll go.”

“Are you really sure about putting me on this show?”

Gu Yining stared at the notice on her phone with a heavy sigh. True, she was set to star in a movie about a single mother, but did she really need to personally experience raising a child?

“Oh, come on, it’s just two months,” said Bei Nanyan from across the table, grinning with infuriating nonchalance.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to take care of the kid.” Gu Yining rolled her eyes.

Bei Nanyan—back then, she’d been promoted for signing her, and had gone on to enjoy a glamorous career as a top agent. Now she’d climbed even higher, becoming a junior head in the planning department.

And this was how she repaid the benefactor who’d helped her?

Gu Yining had said it time and again—she truly disliked children. But apparently, because she was nearing thirty, it was time to “transition into more mature roles.” So they had lined up both a parenting reality show and a single-mother drama.

A “career transition,” they called it. In truth, they just wanted to cash in on the popularity of family reality shows.

But no matter the company, she always had to follow orders. The thought soured her mood. With a huff, she grabbed her bag and walked out, not even bothering to spare Bei Nanyan’s pride.

Bei Nanyan, sensing her irritation, didn’t stop her.

Outside, the cool night breeze swept over her. Gu Yining walked slowly, the nameless fire in her chest ebbing little by little.

It had been five years since Bei Nanyan had helped her leave Bai Qingqiu’s company and sign with one of the “Big Three.” They weren’t in the same department and rarely worked together, but whenever their paths crossed, Bei Nanyan treated her well.

In her first two years at the new company, awkward and unaccustomed, Bei Nanyan had always looked out for her, smoothed things over, put in good words.

She owed her a lot.

And yet, once the gratitude faded, envy took its place.

On paper, it should’ve been the other way around. Just last year, Gu Yining had won Best Actress at the Golden Phoenix Awards. She had tens of millions to her name, a flawless face, and a boundless career ahead. Bei Nanyan, on the other hand, was just another anonymous employee at a giant corporation. What was there to envy?

Her charm? Her extroversion? The way she made friends so easily, unlike Gu Yining with her crippling social anxiety?

No.

What she envied was that Bei Nanyan had always been the red rose.

Gu Yining stopped in her tracks, staring blankly at the dark night sky above the city. Beneath her mask, tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

Ten years. It had been ten years since she first met Bai Qingqiu.

Her one and only youth had been filled with Bai Qingqiu. Every milestone, every first—Bai Qingqiu had been there.

Without realizing it, Bai Qingqiu had carved an indelible mark into her life.

And after all these years, surely Bai Qingqiu had found another red rose.

Bai Xia crouched happily in front of a suitcase taller than she was, watching Aunt Han pack her things. Her earlier sadness at parting from Bai Qingqiu had completely evaporated.

“Auntie, candy!” She pointed her chubby finger at a box of marshmallows, her milky voice bubbling with excitement, eyes sparkling with hope.

“Alright, alright,” Aunt Han said indulgently, slipping the marshmallows into the suitcase.

Her wish granted, Bai Xia squealed in delight and flung herself at Aunt Han, hugging her arm and rubbing against it like a puppy. “Auntie, I also want Bunny!”

“Got it, little miss. Auntie will pack it.” Aunt Han chuckled, patting her head with boundless tenderness, as though she was the most precious treasure in the world.

From the doorway, Bai Qingqiu watched, warmth welling in her chest. Thank heavens for Aunt Han. Without her, she truly wouldn’t have known how to raise Bai Xia.

“Mommy!”

Nestled in Aunt Han’s arms, Bai Xia spotted her and wriggled free, running over with outstretched arms. “Mommy, hug!”

Smiling softly, Bai Qingqiu bent down and scooped her up, patting her little back.

“Tomorrow Mommy has to work, so Aunt Han will take you to the show. Be good, alright?”

Bai Xia tilted her head up at her, lips pursed in a pout. She clung tighter, eyes shimmering with unshed tears that refused to fall.

“But I want Mommy.” Her childish voice was soft and sticky, enough to melt anyone’s heart. She looked pitiful, like a stubborn little cub left behind—impossible not to love.

In this, Bai Xia was just like Gu Yining—the way she held back tears.

When a child resembled you, it should be a blessing. But this particular resemblance filled Bai Qingqiu with sorrow. She herself had lost her mother young, forced to be strong. She had learned early that tears were useless—living as a dependent in someone else’s household, crying only made you weaker.

Those who truly loved you would never treat you poorly, whether you cried or not.

Those who ignored you wouldn’t care, even if you cried until your voice broke.

Bai Xia didn’t need to live that way. She should be free to cry when she wanted, free to laugh when she pleased. Bai Qingqiu wanted her to grow up carefree, to have everything she herself had been denied—and everything she once had, too.

She had chosen to bring Bai Xia into this world. She would give her the best she could.

“Then tonight, you’ll sleep with Mommy, alright?” Bai Qingqiu stroked her hair awkwardly. Comforting others had never been her strength—especially not a child.

But a four-year-old was easy to please. At those words, Bai Xia squealed with joy, showering her face with wet kisses.

“Yay!” she screamed, her voice shrill with excitement.

Since the day Bai Xia was born, it had always been Aunt Han who took care of her at night. Even when she was still an infant, this never changed. After all, Bai Qingqiu’s own sleep quality was poor to begin with, and ever since Gu Yining left, her nights were often reduced to only two or three hours of rest.

If she had to sleep with Bai Xia on top of that, she might as well forget about sleeping altogether.

The child was still so young, yet now she had to spend three days with strangers in an unfamiliar place. All Bai Qingqiu could do was treat this separation as a kind of small comfort.

“Go with Aunt Han to take your bath. Mommy needs to work for a bit.” Bai Qingqiu gently stroked her daughter’s soft, fair cheek and spoke softly.

“Okay~ see you soon, Mommy.” Bai Xia, though clingy, was a very sensible child. After nodding obediently, she twisted in her mother’s arms, reaching out to Aunt Han for a hug.

“Good girl.”

Passing her into Aunt Han’s arms, Bai Qingqiu bent down to kiss her forehead before turning toward the study.

Bai Xia craned her little neck, watching her mother’s retreating figure until it finally disappeared. Only then did she nestle back into Aunt Han’s embrace.

Click.

Gu Yining twisted the doorknob and stepped into her silent, dimly lit home. A few motion-sensor lights blinked on above her head, instantly brightening the space.

The décor was sleek and minimalist, everything spotless and tidy like a showroom apartment. There wasn’t the faintest trace of daily life. In the open kitchen nearby, even the exhaust hood was still wrapped in its dustproof plastic—a clear sign it had never been used.

She dropped onto the sofa, pulling her knees close, and picked up the brand-new remote control on the coffee table. She thought of turning on the TV just to bring some liveliness into the room, but she couldn’t even decide what to watch.

For years now, her life had been a blur of back-to-back filming schedules. Even during the New Year, she rarely returned home to join family dinners. Naturally, this luxury apartment in the city was seldom lived in—at most, she would stay here for a day or two when there was a gap between projects.

A few takeout meals, a couple of nights of sleep, and then she would be gone again, off to the next set.

Calling this place “home” felt hollow; she was far more familiar with hotel rooms near filming locations. With a soundless sigh, she rested her forehead on her knees, closing her eyes. The apartment’s soundproofing was so good that only her own breathing remained—quiet and suffocatingly empty.

Not until her eyelids stung with fatigue did Gu Yining finally lift her head and drag herself to the bathroom to wash up.

The moment her palm pressed against the bath gel pump, a scent both familiar and strange caught her off guard.

Why was the body wash this fragrance?

She grabbed the newly unwrapped bottle from the rack. The packaging was decorated with a white blossom, the words printed neatly in Chinese:

[Magnolia-Scented Body Wash]

Household items like these had always been replenished by her assistant—once they expired, they were replaced. The last bottle must have been bought two years ago; it wasn’t surprising that it had been swapped out.

But the problem was the scent.

For a moment, she froze, uncertain whether to use it or not.

Strictly speaking, the fragrance of bath products and the scent of pheromones were worlds apart. If a shower gel could even mimic the faint aroma of a real flower, it was already remarkable. It wouldn’t be enough to trigger pheromone instability.

And yet, placing the bottle back on the rack, Gu Yining pressed a trembling hand over her aching heart. No matter how she tried to suppress it, her mind conjured up Bai Qingqiu’s face again.

What was wrong with her today? Why did her thoughts keep circling back to her?

Images flickered through her mind—the calm expression Bai Qingqiu wore every day, the softness in her eyes when she was drunk, the commanding voice that had once brooked no refusal: “I only want you.”

At the memory of those words, her heart lurched violently. Because the truth was, what Bai Qingqiu wanted was not her, but Bei Nanyan.

It felt like plunging into an endless abyss, pain tearing through her chest.

Only after a long while did she manage to steady her breathing. In silence, she looked at the bottle of body wash again—this time unscrewing the cap without hesitation. She poured some into her hand, lathering it over her body until the faint magnolia fragrance enveloped her completely.

The past should stay in the past.

Fresh from her bath, the little one smelled sweetly of milk from the children’s soap. She struggled to haul her short legs up onto the bed, impatiently wriggling under the covers. Her warm, soft body pressed tightly against her mother’s side, like a living hot-water bottle.

“Mommy, Mommy.” In a milky voice, Bai Xia called out again and again, rubbing her head insistently against Bai Qingqiu’s chest, mussing her hair into a wild puff of black dandelion fluff.

“Mhm.” Amused, Bai Qingqiu reached over to smooth her daughter’s hair.

“I want to hear a story.” Bai Xia’s eyes were full of hope but tinged with timidity, perhaps aware that she had already asked for too much tonight.

A pang of guilt pricked Bai Qingqiu’s heart. She couldn’t bring herself to agree.

She didn’t know how to tell bedtime stories—never thought about what kind would suit a child of this age. That had always been Aunt Han’s responsibility.

Seeing her silence, Bai Xia didn’t pout or fuss. She only lowered her head, her little shoulders drooping with quiet disappointment. Even her puffball hair seemed to deflate.

Bai Qingqiu sighed softly and, without a word, stroked her daughter’s back in gentle, soothing motions.

Perhaps, if she found more free time soon, she should watch some online tutorials and learn how to read bedtime stories to children.

Mother and daughter shared the silence, neither speaking. Lost in thought, Bai Qingqiu gazed at the fluffy head resting against her chest, realizing with a start just how much this little dumpling had grown.

Grown enough to notice the moods of others.

And yet, she was still so very small.

As Bai Xia’s eyes drifted shut, Bai Qingqiu carefully took her tiny wrist, guiding her plump hand into her palm. Her daughter’s open hand was barely the size of her own, soft and warm, stirring an ache of tenderness in her chest.

This was her child.

The child she had borne through endless nausea, swelling, insomnia, and back pain.

Her one and only blood relative in this world.

“Mommy.” The little dumpling suddenly opened her eyes, gaze glistening with trust and adoration.

“Sleep.”

Lowering her lashes, Bai Qingqiu gently released her hand, whispering comfort as her palm continued to move soothingly over her back.

The child obediently closed her eyes, though she still clutched tightly at her mother’s nightclothes, unwilling to let go.

This time, Bai Qingqiu dared not touch her again. She simply watched her, breathing slow and even as she slipped into slumber. Perhaps it was the bond of blood that made her feel so safe, or perhaps the steady rise and fall of Bai Qingqiu’s chest reminded her of a cradle. Very soon, she was fast asleep, her breaths long and steady.