As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 26

“Sweetheart, your mommy’s calling.”

A staff member outside the room knocked gently on the door.

The little bundle of energy, who had been listlessly sprawled across the suitcase a moment ago, suddenly perked up, her eyes lighting up as if stars had been switched on inside them. She looked ready to launch herself straight at the door.

With quick little stomps of her feet, she rushed over, tugged the door open, and stretched her tiny head through the crack, reaching eagerly for the staff member’s phone. When she saw that the name on the screen was indeed Bai Qingqiu, she practically squealed with delight and started chattering away the moment she got hold of it.

The staff member couldn’t stop smiling, closing the door quietly behind her so that the mother and daughter could chat in private—no need to broadcast their conversation to the world.

In the kitchen, Gu Yining, who had been taking stock of the ingredients the production team had stocked in the fridge, turned at the sound but realized the little one had long since slipped away. She could only shake her head in amusement and continue with her work.

Hopefully the kid wouldn’t get so caught up in her excitement that she forgot to ask about the suitcase password. After all, you couldn’t just go out and buy children’s clothes on a whim.

The moment she saw her daughter on the screen, Bai Qingqiu’s heart settled. Clearly nothing bad had happened—her sudden call wasn’t out of crisis, but out of simple eagerness. Relief softened her features as she watched Bai Xia wave her pudgy little hands at the camera, babbling nonstop. Her eyes were full of tender warmth.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Mommy, I miss you! I miss you so, sooo, sooo much!” Bai Xia’s childish voice was sweet as syrup. She pressed her soft little bun face against the lens, rubbing back and forth. Unfortunately, she was too young to realize that doing so only left the screen pitch black—her mother couldn’t actually see her face.

“Mm.”

Any other mother might have joined right in with her daughter’s cooing. But Bai Qingqiu couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. After a long pause, all she managed was a faint hum of acknowledgment. Then, worried her silence might come across as cold, she added, “Did you need something from Mommy?”

On the other side of the screen, the little girl stopped smudging the lens. The once-clear picture had turned foggy from her earlier rubbing, leaving only the faintest outline of her round face. She tilted her head, clearly trying hard to remember something.

Bai Qingqiu waited patiently.

After a moment, Bai Xia finally remembered her mission.

“Mommy said I should ask you for the password,” she piped up, her sweet voice at odds with the strange request.

Bai Qingqiu: ?

Her expression froze. Mommy? Which mommy? But it clicked soon enough—her daughter must mean the “mommy” assigned to her on the show. Couldn’t the kid at least say a surname first? The thought left a sour taste in her chest.

Apparently, even the staff nearby found it funny—background laughter spilled faintly through the mic.

“Sweetheart, the suitcase password,” a gentle unfamiliar woman’s voice prompted softly.

“Suitcase password?” Bai Xia repeated in a daze, confusion written all over her little face.

But Bai Qingqiu understood immediately.

“The code is 0412—your birthday,” she said with a soft laugh. “Hurry and tell your ‘mommy.’” She put deliberate emphasis on that last word.

At four years old, Bai Xia was far too young to catch the subtle change in tone. She just nodded obediently, turned, and bolted off—without sparing another glance for her real mother.

Bai Qingqiu choked on her own breath. What was she doing, sulking over a stranger—a woman she would likely never cross paths with again once the show wrapped up—and bickering with a four-year-old about titles? The thought was ridiculous. Her cheeks burned hot, and she hastily ended the call.

Meanwhile, Gu Yining had waited in the room for a while. When the little one didn’t return, she put down the fresh ribs in her hands and stepped out. She had barely taken a few steps when she spotted the tiny figure racing back toward her, little legs pumping fast. The phone propped up behind her caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s silhouette before the screen switched back to the chat interface. Moments later, the staff retrieved the device from its stand.

Gu Yining paused at the doorway, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. What’s wrong with me these past two days? Bai Xia’s mother couldn’t possibly resemble her. Even if that woman had ever had a child—which, knowing her temperament, she never would—there was no way.

Suppressing the strange thought, she crouched down, scooped the little one into her arms, and carried her back inside.

The girl was flushed from running, her arms warm as they wrapped around Gu Yining’s neck.

“Did you get the password?” she asked.

“Mm-hm! It’s my birthday—0412!”

The child nodded earnestly, her serious little face making her look like a miniature adult. Gu Yining couldn’t resist pressing a kiss against her chubby cheek.

“So you’re an April baby, huh? Mommy’s birthday is in May. Just a few weeks apart.”

The little one, used to this kind of teasing, only bobbed her head and gave a quiet hum.

The livestream chat, however, erupted.

【I’m jealous, I’m jealous, I’m jealous.】

【Ning, can you please learn some flirting techniques?】

【Gu Yining, hands off! Xia Xia is mine!!】

【Ugh, I’m so jealous that Ning gets to kiss our baby Xia Xia.】

Catching a glimpse of the scrolling comments, Gu Yining’s lips curved smugly. She hugged the little girl tighter.

They couldn’t kiss her. Too bad for them.

Heh.

“Sweetheart, Mommy’s going to make ribs for you now. But can Mommy get a kiss first?” she drawled, deliberately shooting a challenging glance at the livestream camera.

【She’s looking right at us, isn’t she?!】

【Draw your swords! This calls for violence!】

【Who’s dying of envy? Me.】

The screen flooded with complaints.

The little girl blinked, then tightened her arms around Gu Yining’s neck. Her rosy cheeks pressed closer, and she puckered up before planting a loud smooch on her face.

“Mua!”

The sound rang crisp and sweet in Gu Yining’s ears.

“Good girl.”

Satisfied, she stroked the child’s soft hair before setting her carefully inside the fenced playpen the production team had prepared.

“Play with your toys for a bit, sweetheart. Mommy will make your ribs.”

After ending the call, Bai Qingqiu threw herself back into work. Thanks to her years of management, BaiXing Entertainment was stable now, no longer as tense as in its early days. She could have delegated more tasks to her subordinates.

But she didn’t.

Only work gave her a sense of safety and accomplishment. Through work, she could control, arrange, and maintain the upper hand without fear of unexpected consequences.

It wasn’t that work needed her—it was that she needed work.

That had always been true, and it still was.

Her desk was stacked with documents. She picked up one she hadn’t yet reviewed and flipped through it. But when she reached the final page, her hand stilled. She stared for a long moment, then picked it up again, scanning carefully to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.

It was the guest list for the company’s upcoming anniversary red carpet event.

And printed squarely among the names—two bold characters: Gu Yining.

Why would they invite her?

And why would she agree to come?

Bai Qingqiu’s brows knitted, her fingers tightening around the paper as her expression shifted. After a long time, she forced herself back to calm.

She returned the list to its place and bent over the next file. But not a single word registered. Again and again, Gu Yining’s name surfaced in her mind, stubbornly refusing to fade.

Gu Yining.

With a snap, she closed the document she hadn’t absorbed a word of. She had to physically restrain the impulse to call her subordinates and demand an explanation.

Only two people had ever known about her past with Gu Yining: Hong Xia, who had been ousted five years ago with Bei Nanyan’s help, and An Jin, who had long since left the frontline and was recently dispatched overseas for international business.

No one in BaiXia now should know about her and Gu Yining.

She hadn’t followed Gu Yining’s career closely, but in the same industry, it was impossible not to know—Gu Yining was now the freshly crowned Film Queen, basking in glory.

So the Big Three had poured their resources into her.

And now, her own staff likely just wanted to borrow some of that brilliance. There was nothing inherently wrong with that. After all, even if Gu Yining’s departure had looked messy, in this industry, there were no eternal enemies—only eternal interests.

Entertainment companies never complain about too much traffic, and artists never complain about too many resources.

Since Gu Yining agreed to walk the red carpet, the company in return would naturally collaborate with her on some projects.

A win–win deal.

Letting her personal grudges interfere with the company’s operations?

That was never within Bai Qingqiu’s way of doing things.

But as a board member of the company, she was, of course, required to attend the red carpet. And by then, there was a good chance she would run into Gu Yining.

Admittedly, she had no desire to see her ex—who also happened to be Bai Xia’s biological mother. But more importantly, even if she left Bai Xia at home in Aunt Han’s care, there was no guarantee the child wouldn’t ask for her.

And if Gu Yining happened to see that, Bai Qingqiu pressed her lips together tightly.

She would not allow such a thing to happen.

Gu Yining didn’t receive the notice until after she had bathed Bai Xia and was about to coax her to sleep.

Just as she was preparing to tell a bedtime story, her assistant sent over next week’s schedule.

Among the usual shows, interviews, and promotional events, the words “BaiXing Entertainment Anniversary Red Carpet” stood out like a thorn, instantly seizing all of her attention.

She had no idea this event even existed.

When the schedule was set last month, the company had never once mentioned it.

It couldn’t be clearer whose handiwork this was.

Her lashes lowered as she gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Mommy?”

Beside her, Bai Xia, tucked snugly under her little quilt and waiting for her story, called out in confusion.

Gu Yining turned her head abruptly. She hadn’t managed to school her expression in time. The little one flinched, eyes widening in fright, body stiffening as she shrank back. Tears welled in her eyes almost instantly.

【What’s with Ningning’s face? Why does she look so upset?】

【Don’t talk nonsense. She’s just not smiling, that’s all.】

【Come on, her face clearly darkened. Ningning’s fans, stop making excuses.】

【Why scare the kid like that? Is she sick or something?】

Though the barrage of comments had thinned with the late hour, they quickly picked up again. But since the live camera was set up at the door of the children’s room to avoid disturbing their private life, Gu Yining couldn’t actually see them.

Not that she cared.

Compared to that worthless chatter, calming the tearful child before her was far more important.

She reached out, scooping Bai Xia into her arms.

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” she murmured, awkwardly patting the child’s small back, softening her voice as much as she could.

At the sound of her gentle tone, the little one who had been on the verge of crying finally relaxed. She burrowed into Gu Yining’s embrace, her voice thick with a sniffly whine.

“Scared.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy was wrong. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her child was so easy to soothe, yet instead of feeling relieved, Gu Yining only felt a deeper guilt. She lowered her head, gently brushing her forehead against the girl’s soft hair, her heart aching.

Bai Xia was still so small. Curled up in her arms, she felt no heavier than an oversized doll, impossibly endearing.

The little one didn’t answer, just pressed her face into Gu Yining’s neck. Her warm, damp breath fanned softly against her skin, making Gu Yining feel as though she was cradling a kitten, lazy and vulnerable, belly exposed, claws tucked away.

The kitten had curled itself into a tiny ball, clinging to her for comfort.

After a long silence, a muffled little voice piped up.

“Mommy.”

Thinking she was being called, Gu Yining answered with a soft hum, a smile spreading across her face.

“Mommy, Xia Xia misses Mommy.”

Her smile froze.

That one sentence from the child poured over her heart like a bucket of ice water, snuffing out all the warmth that had been building there throughout the day.

Right. She wasn’t Bai Xia’s mother.

The girl already had her own parents, her own family. Gu Yining was nothing more than a stranger she’d met only recently.

“Baby misses your mommy?”

She forced a bitter smile.

“Mommy’s smell.”

The child’s reply seemed nonsensical, but after a moment’s thought, Gu Yining guessed at the meaning—her scent must remind the little one of her real mother.

The parenting guide she had skimmed the night before mentioned that children, like small animals, often develop scent attachment. A familiar smell brings comfort and reassurance.

So that explained why the little girl had clung to her at their very first meeting.

It wasn’t fate—it was fabric softener.

Gu Yining tilted her head, sniffing at herself. Other than the faint, lingering trace of magnolia body wash from the night before, all she could smell was the fresh scent of detergent and a hint of the sweet-and-sour ribs she had cooked earlier.

Once the little one was asleep, she’d ask her assistant what brand of detergent they used. Since Bai Xia liked it, she would stick to that from now on.

After all, who could resist such innocent reliance from a child this sweet?

With the help of that familiar scent, even a novice like Gu Yining managed to lull Bai Xia to sleep with ease.

Of course, the real credit went to the child herself—obedient and sensible, she hardly needed coaxing. A tucked blanket, a few lines of a story, and she was out like a light.

Maybe Gu Yining didn’t dislike children after all. She just couldn’t stand ill-mannered brats.

Watching the little one’s peaceful sleeping face, she couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke her soft hair. Fine and silky, it carried a faint brown tint, just like her own had when she was little.

She remembered how, back in school, the head disciplinarian used to haul her into the office, convinced she’d dyed it.

Thankfully, as she grew older, the color had darkened.

Still, she thought, when Bai Xia grew up, she might face the same trouble. The thought made Gu Yining chuckle softly. She was about to pull her other hand free when the glow from the live-stream camera at the children’s room door caught her eye.

The stream was still on?

Frowning, she carefully slid her numb arm out from under Bai Xia, then walked over to the phone set up on its stand.

The camera faithfully captured her movements.

The moment she appeared on screen, the previously stagnant chat erupted once more.

【Oh my god, did Ningning finally remember us?】

【It’s been forever! She finally looked at us instead of the kid! All the other guests talk to the livestream, but Ningning hasn’t so much as glanced at us since this morning in the car!】

【Waaah, I waited so long, and she finally came back to us!】

【Still as gorgeous as ever. Fine, I forgive her.】

They sounded so aggrieved.

Gu Yining pressed her lips together in exasperation. She had been about to power the phone off, but her gaze flicked to the slumbering Bai Xia. Lowering her voice, she said softly:

“See you all tomorrow.”

Without sparing another glance at the chat begging her to keep streaming, she shut it down decisively, then went to the living room and switched off that camera too.

After finishing up, she double-checked the cameras and equipment throughout the house, making sure everything was in sleep mode. Only then did she take her phone into the bathroom—the one place without any mics or cameras.

She needed to call Bei Nanyan.

The show’s tricks weren’t small-scale. In the silence of the bathroom, the electronic dialing tone echoed crisply.

“Hello? What’s with the call at this hour?”

Bei Nanyan’s voice came lazily through the receiver.

“Why did you schedule an event for me without asking?” Gu Yining’s voice was cool, though laced with restrained anger.

“What event? Oh, you mean Bai Qingqiu’s company’s red carpet?” Her tone was as nonchalant as ever.

“What else?” Already in a foul mood, Gu Yining’s eyelid twitched at that casual attitude. Her voice sharpened.

“They’re paying well. Why wouldn’t you go? You’ll get a fat appearance fee.” Bei Nanyan even chuckled, dismissive.

“I don’t need the money.” Gu Yining gave a humorless laugh. No matter how much it was, she disdained it. If she cared about such things, she wouldn’t have walked away back then without taking a single piece of jewelry.

They had all been Bai Qingqiu’s gifts. She had every right to keep them, yet she hadn’t.

And really—did Bei Nanyan think a single red carpet appearance would pay more than an acting role?

“You’re just afraid of running into her, aren’t you? Why? Even if you’re not on the level of a company executive, your status is hardly low. Don’t you want her to see how dazzling you are now?” Bei Nanyan spoke with such self-righteous confidence, as though her logic were flawless.

“Bei Nanyan.”

Gu Yining’s patience snapped. Her voice was quick and sharp.

“That’s what you think. Don’t force your thoughts on me. I’m not you. I have my own mind, my own principles. A normal person doesn’t want to run into an ex from years ago. How are you any different from Bai Qingqiu?”

At least Bai Qingqiu still bothered to ask her opinion.

No wonder the two of them were lovers—their thinking was exactly alike.

But she was Gu Yining.

She would never be controlled, never reduced to someone else’s shadow or puppet.