As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 27

【Wow, this house is actually pretty nice. Trashy production crew finally pulled off something decent.】

【Ningning, hurry and take a rest!!】

【I wonder what kind of kid they’ll assign to Ningning.】

【Hopefully the child isn’t too plain-looking. Ningning is so beautiful—pairing her with an unattractive kid would be unacceptable.】

While the live chat scrolled with lively speculation, Gu Yining herself was restless. The “child” was about to arrive—how on earth was she supposed to handle this?

“Mommy!”

A soft, milky voice cut through her thoughts, and the next second something small and warm collided with her legs.

Gu Yining: ?

She lowered her head to see a porcelain-skinned little dumpling, hair tied into two pigtails with big lace bows perched on top. Her large eyes—strangely familiar—were clear and dewy, framed by long curled lashes that fluttered like a fan.

She looked just like an exquisite doll displayed in a shop window.

For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Gu Yining froze. None of her friends were married, let alone had kids. So why did this little girl feel familiar? Perhaps it was just that the child immediately struck her as lovable. Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought.

And then,

“Mommy.”

She mouthed the word silently a few times. No one had ever called her that before. To suddenly hear it.

It wasn’t bad.

Awkwardly imitating what she had seen others do, she crouched down and carefully scooped the child into her arms. Afraid of squeezing too tightly and hurting her, she cradled the tiny body as gently as possible. The girl was so small, so fragile, only reaching up to her thigh. Gu Yining’s heart pounded as if it might leap right out of her chest.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Bai Xia.”

In her baby voice, the little girl replied, her speech not yet crisp, the “Bai” slipping out like a light, breathy syllable. As soon as she spoke, she wrapped her arms around Gu Yining’s neck and, like a kitten, rubbed her soft face against her chest.

“Bai Xia, darling can Mommy call you Xia Xia?” The word “Auntie” almost slipped out by instinct, but she quickly caught herself. For the next three days, she had to play the role of this child’s mother.

The girl lifted her head, tilting it to the side, pudgy fingers pressed against her chin as she frowned in mock seriousness, clearly pondering the matter.

“Mmm.”

Watching her, Gu Yining couldn’t help but chuckle and reached out to ruffle her hair.

“Then I’ll just call you sweetheart.”

It wasn’t only Gu Yining who melted. The livestream chat had already exploded, scrolling so fast it was nearly unreadable.

【Oh my god, where did the production team find such an adorable kid?!】

【My heart is melting. Ningning is being so gentle, I can’t handle this.】

【Am I the only one who thinks this little girl looks like Ningning??】

【Not just you! Honestly, credit where it’s due—the crew actually nailed this one.】

The lively stream of comments no longer concerned the so-called “mother and daughter”; both of them were focused elsewhere now.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Bai Xia said, one arm hooked around her neck while the other rubbed her round little belly. Her voice was tender and sweet, her big eyes—growing more familiar the longer she looked at them—blinking up at her as she pouted, all innocence and pitiful charm.

Before leaving, Aunt Han hadn’t dared feed her too much, worried she’d get carsick. After enduring a car ride, a flight, and another transfer, the little girl’s stomach had long been rumbling. Surrounded by strangers, she had kept quiet, nerves taut. Now, finally meeting the warm and kind Gu Yining, she relaxed—and the hunger hit.

Gu Yining immediately panicked.

She couldn’t cook. Forget a meal—she’d be lucky not to blow up the kitchen.

But she couldn’t very well feed the little one takeout, either. If the parents saw their child eating greasy, unhealthy fast food on a livestream, they’d probably have a heart attack.

“What do you want to eat, sweetheart?” she asked carefully.

“Sweet and sour ribs!”

The answer came instantly and perfectly pronounced. Her big eyes sparkled—it was clearly a favorite.

Gu Yining nearly dropped her. The calm façade on her face almost cracked.

Of all things.

Sweet and sour ribs happened to be her own favorite dish. But there was no way she could make it. If the girl had asked for something simple like steamed egg custard, maybe she could fumble through it.

How could a child this young have tastes so adult?

【Hahahahahahahaha Ningning’s face just collapsed, omg.】

【Her mental breakdown is visible.】

【Welcome to Ningning’s Parenting Diary: Kitchen Disaster Edition.】

【Run, little dumpling! Your Mommy Gu is about to blow up the kitchen!】

The comments were merciless. Having followed Gu Yining for so long, the audience knew full well she was hopeless in the kitchen. Her public persona was always calm, composed, like an old soul—sometimes even aloof and untouchable.

The “kitchen disaster” skill had unexpectedly turned into a kind of quirky charm. When it first came to light, Gu Yining was even mischievously booked for a few cooking variety shows to “show off her talents.”

Of course, Bai Xia had no idea about any of this. Seeing Gu Yining remain silent, she anxiously tugged at her sleeve and shook it again and again.

“Hungry!” the little one declared, her voice full of emphasis.

Faced with those wide, expectant eyes brimming with longing, Gu Yining found herself unable to say the words of refusal that hovered at her lips. In the end, she could only grit her teeth and agree.

“Alright, Mommy will cook for you.”

“Yay!!”

Completely unaware of the ordeal awaiting her, Bai Xia bounced happily in her arms. Her twin ponytails swung lightly with the movement, carrying with them a faint, sweet, milky fragrance that belonged only to children.

Flustered, Gu Yining hurried to tighten her hold on the lively little bundle.

“Sweetheart, how about you play on your own for a bit? Mommy will make you some ribs.”

“Mhm!”

To her surprise, the little one was very obedient, immediately pushing at her shoulders to signal she wanted to be put down.

Gu Yining had been ready to coax and persuade, but she hadn’t expected her to be this well-behaved—far more docile than children her age usually were.

Parenting guides all said that children around four or five were bursting with energy, full of strong self-will, and hardly reasonable at all.

Carefully, Gu Yining bent down, cradling her as she set her on the floor. The moment the girl stood steady, she couldn’t resist affectionately ruffling the crown of her head.

“You’re such a good girl,” she praised sincerely.

If only all kids were as sweet and lovable as Bai Xia. But children like her was rare; every child she had met before was noisy and willful. Clearly, Bai Xia’s parents must have wonderful personalities to have raised such an exceptional child.

Hearing the praise, Bai Xia’s eyes curved into crescents as she grinned wide, revealing a row of tiny baby teeth. She puffed out her chest proudly, looking for all the world like a little puppy wagging its invisible tail.

So young and already so smug. With a scrunched nose, Gu Yining mischievously reached out and squeezed her chubby cheeks.

“Mommy’s going to cook now. Be good, alright?”

“Mommy’s so naggy.”

Whether because the pinch had hurt a little or simply because she disliked being fussed over, the little girl puffed up her cheeks, turned her head with a huff, and trotted off on her short legs toward the suitcase.

Following her gaze, Gu Yining noticed the suitcase by the entryway. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the style high-end—clearly expensive. Combined with the elaborate princess dress the little one wore, it was obvious she came from an exceptionally wealthy family.

But then, what kind of parents sent a child like this onto a show?

As an entertainer, Gu Yining knew better than anyone how toxic the public opinion in the industry could be. No matter how someone appeared on camera—good or bad, beautiful or plain—there would always be people eager to nitpick and smear.

Even for a child as adorable as this one, haters would show no mercy. Such a gentle, sensible girl could easily become a target of malicious slander. Right now, she was too young to understand, but what if she grew up, looked back on this time, and stumbled upon all those nasty things online? Wouldn’t that scar her?

The thought left Gu Yining with a sour taste. She couldn’t help resenting Bai Xia’s unseen parents—how selfish of them.

Still, since fate had made her this little one’s “temporary mommy,” she would protect her with everything she had.

The girl herself, however, had no such worries. Moments ago she’d been sulking, but now she was tiptoeing determinedly, pawing at a suitcase taller than she was.

Oh no.

Gu Yining’s heart leapt into her throat as she saw the suitcase teeter. She lunged forward to steady it before it toppled over.

“Sweetheart, what are you trying to do? Let Mommy help you, okay?”

“Candy!” the little one chirped, her earlier displeasure forgotten. She turned her head, her eyes sparkling as a dimple appeared beside her lips. “The cotton candy Auntie gave Xia Xia!”

“Mommy will get it for you, don’t worry.”

Relieved, Gu Yining lifted her aside, then dragged the suitcase to a more open spot. She gently laid it flat and reached for the zipper—only to find it secured by a combination lock.

Of course. A suitcase this pricey wouldn’t be without a code.

She looked back at the little girl craning her neck, her eyes hungry with anticipation.

“Sweetheart, do you happen to know the password for this suitcase?”

Bai Xia tilted her head, lips pursed, before ruthlessly delivering three words:

“I don’t.”

Gu Yining: ?

She knew it. How could a four- or five-year-old possibly remember a code?

“Then Mommy will have the show staff contact your parents and ask for it, okay?”

Though she didn’t fully understand, the moment she heard the word “parents,” Bai Xia nodded vigorously.

“Miss Bai.”

At that moment, Aunt Han was just cleaning outside the study when a message came from the production team. She quickly wiped her hands and knocked on the tightly closed door.

The murmuring of conversation inside fell silent. After a pause, Bai Qingqiu’s muffled voice came through.

“What is it?”

Aunt Han hesitated—she knew Bai Qingqiu must be in a meeting. But the staff had said the little miss wanted her parents. Though Aunt Han had raised her since she was born, she wasn’t her real family.

What the little girl wanted was, of course, her mother—not Aunt Han.

“The young miss is asking for you,” she said softly.

“Alright, I understand. I’ll contact the show right away,” Bai Qingqiu replied.