As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 31.2

But Bai Qingqiu’s eyes stayed fixed on Gu Yining, as if in a trance.

Compared to her memory, Gu Yining had grown more mature. The baby fat on her cheeks was long gone, her jawline sharp as if carved in stone. Her features remained exquisite, but her brows and eyes had taken on a darker, deeper edge. Those round eyes that once held warmth now betrayed no trace of the gentle sweetness she remembered.

“Long time no see.” Bai Qingqiu finally spoke, her tone flat, as if addressing a stranger. Yet the arm hidden behind the child’s princess dress tensed so hard that veins stood out.

Bai Xia, feeling neglected, started fussing against her shoulder.

Suddenly, Gu Yining stepped forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Bai Qingqiu’s body stiffened, bracing herself, but Gu Yining only shifted her gaze downward—to the child in her arms.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go play with that sister over there?”

Her words were phrased as a question, but her tone left no room for refusal.

“No!”

The usually obedient child pouted stubbornly, refusing to let go.

“Be good.”

This time, both women silently stood on the same side. They couldn’t let the child witness them tear into each other. Bai Qingqiu gently patted her daughter’s back, then lifted her eyes to Gu Yining, giving her a subtle signal to take the child.

Without hesitation, Gu Yining reached out, pried the little one from her arms, and set her down firmly on the ground.

Stunned, the child froze for a moment before puffing her cheeks, stomping off in protest, and tossing back a sulky complaint.

“I don’t like you anymore!”

Her footsteps echoed through the small studio lobby before fading away. Yet neither Bai Qingqiu nor Gu Yining moved.

Bai Qingqiu’s expression stayed outwardly composed, but inside her chest surged a flood of emotions she had buried for years, threatening to drown her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm in her lungs.

In contrast, Gu Yining looked almost unnervingly calm, her cool gaze seeming to mock her turmoil.

Gu Yining didn’t know how to face the woman before her.

She remembered clearly—five years ago, before she left, how pale and frail Bai Qingqiu had been. Back then, she’d brushed it off as “just stomach trouble.” Looking back now, it must have been because of Bai Xia.

Why didn’t she tell her?

Why did she lie?

Hadn’t she always been the honest one between them?

Her chest ached with questions, but when confronted with the same cold indifference that hadn’t changed in five years, all those questions dissolved into bitter anguish.

There was no need to ask. She wasn’t worthy.

Even with a child involved, she wasn’t deemed worthy of knowing.

Gu Yining turned her head away with a self-mocking smile. What was the point of saying anything more? Why humiliate herself further?

“Let’s talk.”

Bai Qingqiu’s voice cut in suddenly, still carrying that same commanding tone she remembered.

“Fine.”

Gu Yining had never been one to back down.

The staff led them into the photo studio’s lounge reserved for guests.

The lounge wasn’t large—two sofas and a small coffee table, just enough for a family of three to sit together. Gu Yining immediately took the single armchair, which was clearly meant for children.

Walking in behind her, Bai Qingqiu could only sit down on the two-seater sofa not far away, separated from her by the little coffee table.

The atmosphere grew thick and uneasy.

“Would either of you like something to drink?” the staff member asked before leaving, as if to dispel the strange silence.

“Iced Americano.”

“Iced Americano.”

The words came out in unison. Both froze when they heard the other’s order.

Gu Yining shifted uneasily, resisting the urge to glance at Bai Qingqiu’s expression, regret tightening in her chest.

She shouldn’t have said “Iced Americano” in front of Bai Qingqiu. Of all people, Bai Qingqiu knew she never used to drink bitter coffee. What if she thought Yining had spent all these years clinging to the past, even going so far as to learn to drink what she liked?

Though, perhaps, that wasn’t entirely untrue.

“She’ll have the Americano. I’ll take a Caramel Macchiato,” Yining quickly added, her fingertips tense, cutting in before the staff member could nod and leave.

Unfortunately, it happened to be the same attendant who had brought her an Americano earlier. Hearing Yining’s correction, the woman’s expression flickered, caught between amusement and curiosity.

Yining’s heart leapt into her throat, terrified she might ask something. Thankfully, the staff here was well-trained. She simply nodded, said nothing, and quietly closed the door behind her as she left.

Only then did Gu Yining exhale in relief.

What was she trying to do?

Bai Qingqiu steadied her breathing, refusing to let the woman across from her glimpse any cracks. Just moments ago, Yining had been so cold—and now she’d ordered coffee for her?

Whatever Gu Yining intended, Bai Qingqiu had no intention of yielding. As always, she lifted her chin, determined to seize the upper hand.

“If you have questions for me, just ask,” she said evenly, meeting Yining’s gaze.

“Bai Xia is our child.”

Gu Yining didn’t pose it as a question. She stated it flatly, eyes fixed on her, as though searching her face for a flicker of guilt or hesitation.

But Bai Qingqiu gave her nothing—only a calm nod.

“Mm.”

There was no point denying it. Nor could she hide it.

Besides, judging from Yining’s tone, it was clear she had already guessed. Bai Xia might resemble her more than Yining, but anyone who’d spent time with the child—and knew her name—couldn’t possibly fail to connect the dots.

Especially after today’s photo shoot.

“As Bai Xia’s biological mother, I want half of the custody,” Yining said, voice steady and resolute—more like a declaration than a negotiation.

No, her tone made it obvious: she had no intention of negotiating at all.

And who did she think she was?

A cold laugh escaped Bai Qingqiu, her gaze frosted over.

“Impossible.” She paused, then sneered. “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to ask for custody? I carried her. I gave birth to her. I raised her all these years.”

“Because you never told me!” Yining shot back, brows furrowed, her retort laced with a laughable note of blame.

“I didn’t tell you?”

Qingqiu’s bitter laugh broke into the silence. The resentment she had worked so hard to suppress burst free.

“How do you know I didn’t try? Five years ago, you suddenly came back, packed up, and walked out. Do you know I had just bought a pregnancy test and was about to tell you? I went to the bathroom for one minute, and when I came out—you were already dragging your suitcase to leave. I tried to speak, do you remember what you said?”

“You said there was no need. That we’d never see each other again. Right there in the upstairs hallway, you shoved past me and went downstairs. What was I supposed to say then? You wanted freedom. So I gave you freedom.”

Gu Yining froze, a trace of shock flickering across her face. Clearly, she remembered too.

Bai Qingqiu steadied her ragged breath and turned away, hiding the treacherous shine in her eyes. After five years, the wound was still raw.

Back then, there had been guilt toward Yining. Now, there was only resentment.

Resentment that she hadn’t listened. Resentment that she vanished for a month without answering the phone. Resentment toward the pitiful fool who still hoped—who waited by the phone, who thought Yining might go with her to the hospital, who lay trembling on the operating table, haunted by childhood trauma, too afraid even to let the doctor administer anesthesia.

Of course, Yining hadn’t been there.

Knock, knock.

The sound of knuckles on the door snapped Qingqiu out of her memory. It was the staff returning with their drinks. She kept her head bowed, clutching the hem of her shirt.

It was Yining who finally broke the silence.

“Come in,” she called.

The door creaked open, followed by the clink of glass cups set down on the coffee table. Yining murmured a thank you, but the rest was too faint to make out.

Then silence fell again.

After what felt like forever, just as Qingqiu was about to turn back and confront her, a pale, slender hand appeared in her line of sight—offering her a glass of iced Americano.

“Here. Drink.”

It was Yining’s voice.

Qingqiu lifted her gaze. Yining turned her face aside, showing only her profile.

Qingqiu parted her lips to refuse, but Yining spoke first.

“I’m sorry.”

The cup in her hand was ice-cold, the chill biting straight to the bone—just like the humiliation that burned inside her. She had come in full of righteous accusations, only to discover the truth: she had missed it all because she hadn’t listened. She hadn’t known about Bai Xia not because Qingqiu had hidden it, but because she herself had walked away.

Qingqiu hadn’t been the one concealing anything.

Yining drew in a sharp breath, forcing herself to turn back and meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice low and hoarse.

But Qingqiu’s gaze was steady, so steady it made Yining lower her head in shame.

Then warmth brushed her hand—the Americano taken gently from her grasp.

“Custody is out of the question,” Qingqiu said flatly.

Yining let out a self-deprecating laugh. What face did she have left to demand custody? It was her own fault she’d missed those years with Bai Xia.

And Qingqiu was right: she had borne the pain of pregnancy, endured the hardship, raised the child.

Yining might call herself the biological mother, but in truth, she had done nothing.

Back then, even when Qingqiu was suffering in the earliest days of pregnancy, Yining had thought it was just her gastritis acting up. She had tossed her a bag of antacids and walked away.

And now she had the gall to demand custody? Laughable.

“But you can come see her,” Qingqiu added, her tone so casual it was as though she was suggesting plans for the evening.

Yining’s head jerked up, eyes wide with disbelief. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, throat tight with words she couldn’t get out.

“You’re her mother,” Qingqiu said simply, as if answering the thoughts she couldn’t voice.