As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 33

“I like her!” the little one blurted out without hesitation.

Before Gu Yining could even feel a flicker of joy, she heard the child quickly add, “But I like Mommy even more!”

As if afraid Mommy wouldn’t believe her, the little one pressed her chubby cheek tightly against Bai Qingqiu’s and wrapped her tiny arms around her, unwilling to let go even for a second.

Bai Qingqiu’s lips curved into a relieved smile. Mother and daughter, cheerful as ever, walked off happily together. That small interlude hadn’t dampened their spirits in the least.

The two figures grew smaller and smaller, eventually swallowed up by the crowd, until they were completely gone. Only faint fragments of their chatter lingered in the air.

Standing still, Gu Yining suddenly felt as though the world had gone quiet—though in reality, staff bustled hurriedly back and forth all around her.

Five years. Not too long, not too short. Enough for a person to bury the past and begin anew. Enough for a baby in her mother’s belly to grow into a lively, bouncing child.

If fate hadn’t arranged this reunion, she would have remained in the dark. No matter how hard it was to let go, given enough time, one day she would be able to hear that name and remember without the slightest pang.

That’s a blessing, isn’t it? Because now—it still wasn’t too late.

Not long after, staff came to call them back for filming. Before the cameras rolled, Bai Qingqiu held Xiaxia’s hand and personally passed the child into hers.

The little hand was soft and warm, almost burning against her palm, as if she could hardly hold on.

“Be good, and listen to Auntie, alright?” Bai Qingqiu said gently.

“Mm!” The child nodded hard, gripping her loosely held hand tighter. From her angle, Gu Yining could only see Xiaxia’s messy braid wobbling precariously as she moved, looking like it would fall apart any moment.

“Good girl.” The gloom that had lingered on Bai Qingqiu’s face vanished. She crouched down to fasten the braid, smooth stray wisps of hair, and tidy the collar of her little princess dress—her whole posture radiating reluctant fussiness.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her,” Gu Yining said.

Truth be told, she believed she had already been caring for Xiaxia well enough. Of course, most of it came down to the child herself being sensible and obedient.

“Mm.” Bai Qingqiu’s reply was flat, neither an expression of trust nor reassurance. She rose to her feet, turned, and prepared to leave.

“Sweetheart, say goodbye to Mommy,” Gu Yining quickly reminded, shaking the little one’s arm.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.” The child did as told, though her voice dragged out the last syllable, thick with reluctant sorrow. It really was like Bai Qingqiu. When Gu Yining had been small, she never would have been this obedient.

Gu Yining had always been stubborn as a mule—once she set her mind on something, she never looked back.

And Bai Qingqiu, too, only inclined her chin in acknowledgment before striding away without so much as a backward glance.

“Sweetheart, are you sad Mommy’s leaving?” Gu Yining crouched down to meet her eyes. The child’s gaze, so much like her own, shimmered with unshed tears, her mouth pressed tight in defiance as she refused to cry.

“Mm.” With someone to comfort her, she finally couldn’t hold back. She threw herself into Gu Yining’s arms and began sobbing softly, tears soaking into her neck and spreading dampness to her collar.

“But if you miss Mommy so much, why didn’t you ask her to stay?” Gu Yining lowered her voice, rubbing the child’s trembling back in slow circles to soothe her.

“Because, because Mommy has to work,” the little one hiccupped, struggling to get the words out.

“So Xiaxia is a good girl, isn’t she?” Gu Yining carried her up into her arms. “And good girls deserve rewards. What does Xiaxia want? Should Mommy take you to buy some candy?”

The last words she spoke deliberately—calling herself Mommy once more.

At first, she had only done so to play along with the show. But now, it was different.

She was her mother. On the show, yes—but also in life.

“Okay!”

As a public figure, Gu Yining was long accustomed to the ever-present cameras and swarms of staff. But the little one in her arms—utterly unbothered by it all—that was truly amusing.

Just earlier, on their way to the photo studio, she’d been so scared she clung to Gu Yining’s arm for dear life.

“You’re not scared?” Gu Yining jiggled her a little, half-wondering if the girl had simply gone numb. But no—neither of them was easily cowed.

“Nope!” Xiaxia shook her head. The messy braid had long since lost its elastic and clip, her fine hair now hanging straight down and tickling Gu Yining’s hand.

“Why not?”

“Because Mommy said I have to be brave.” The little one sighed like a tiny adult, her chubby face marked by a melancholy far too mature for her age. Her hands twisted together, wringing and wringing.

Gu Yining quickly realized that the “Mommy” in this case referred to Bai Qingqiu. After all, she herself had never said such words to her.

She wondered what mother and daughter had whispered to each other during those brief moments apart.

“Did Mommy say you shouldn’t keep playing with me?” she asked, though she doubted that was the case. Still—what if?

Watching the child’s face closely, Gu Yining felt her own heart quicken, the pounding echoing in her ears.

“No.” The child shook her head firmly, too young to grasp the tangled complexities between adults.

“Really?”

“Really.”

By then, they had already reached the handmade candy shop inside the mall across from the photo studio. With the show’s arrangements, the shop was empty except for staff, the two of them, and rows upon rows of candies in glass jars of every size.

Even the air here smelled sweet.

Little one’s eyes darted left and right, overwhelmed by the sight. Her mouth watered, though she didn’t dare ask. Instead, she clung pitifully to Gu Yining’s neck.

Gu Yining remembered Xiaxia once mentioning that she wasn’t usually allowed much candy at home.

Well, children loving sweets was perfectly normal. As long as she didn’t eat too much, what harm was there?

“Xiaxia, you can pick anything you like. Just don’t take too much.”

“Okay!”

With permission granted, Little one scampered around the shop. She crouched in front of jars, staring as though deep in thought; she stretched on tiptoe to reach bags on high shelves. Staff helped by handing them down, but she never hugged them tight—just looked for a moment before handing them back.

She was being very serious about choosing.

At last, Gu Yining had a moment to glance toward the livestream camera set up nearby, where the scrolling comments caught her eye.

【Xiaxia is so well-behaved. My nephew would’ve been throwing a fit by now.】

【If every kid was as cute as Xiaxia, who would still be against having children?】

【LOL, she’s not even as tall as the jar.】

【Am I the only one noticing Ningning looking at us? AHHHH, wife!】

The stream chat, once moving at a leisurely pace, exploded the moment viewers saw her glance their way. A flood of messages flew by in a blur of white text. With no other choice, Gu Yining focused on the very first comment she’d managed to catch.

“Mm, yes, she’s very obedient. You guys are spamming the comments too fast—I can’t read them clearly.”

【Did you hear that? My wife told you all to stop spamming.】

【Gu Yining Gu Yining Gu Yining Gu Yining Gu Yining Gu Yining】

【What’s wrong with you people? This is Ningning’s livestream, no need to flood it with her name.】

【That person over there, you can use the block words function.】

Why had the chat suddenly turned into an argument? Gu Yining frowned, just about to step in and calm things down, when the camera caught the little one sneaking up behind her with two bags of candy in hand, her clumsy plan exposed completely.

After all that choosing, just two bags? And with the camera pointed straight at her too. Gu Yining lowered her head, suppressing a laugh, pretending not to notice.

Sure enough, the next second, a pair of small arms hugged her legs tightly.

“Ah? When did you get back?”

Gu Yining swore this was the worst acting performance of her life. But the child’s sly little expression—almost tripping over her skirt in the process—was simply too funny to resist.

“Hmph! I’m not telling you!” The little one tilted her chin up, clearly seeing through her fake surprise, aware that she had just been humoring her.

“Alright, alright. Just two bags?”

“Mm.” The child nodded, holding up the candies with both hands as if they were treasures. “This little one is for Xiaxia, the big one is for Mommy! Xiaxia’s bringing it home for Mommy.”

The smaller bag was filled with brightly wrapped cylindrical candies printed with cartoon characters, while the larger bag held fluffy pink-and-white marshmallows stuffed with syrup. No matter which one, they promised to melt sweetly in the mouth.

“Your mommy doesn’t even like sweets,” Gu Yining blurted out before she could stop herself. And sure enough, the child tilted her head in suspicion.

“How do you know that?”

“I guessed.”

“But every time Xiaxia gives Mommy candy, Mommy eats it really happily.”

She might have been small, but she wasn’t easy to fool. She even counted on her tiny fingers, brows furrowed in mock seriousness, looking far older than her years.

Ever since she had learned of Bai Xia’s true parentage, Gu Yining couldn’t help but search her face for traces of resemblance—especially in moments like this.

On a face already so similar to hers, the sudden flash of Bai Qingqiu’s expression was complicated to behold.

“Of course Mommy’s happy when it’s candy from Xiaxia, whether she likes sweets or not,” Gu Yining exhaled softly and patted her on the head. “Come on, let’s go check out and head home, alright?”

Before Bai Xia could answer, Gu Yining scooped her up and carried her toward the cashier. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the livestream chat exploding again.

【Eh? Does Ningning know Xiaxia’s mom?】

【Isn’t that normal? Shows like this usually involve meeting the parents.】

【Am I the only one who thinks Ningning’s expression got weird when Xiaxia’s mom was mentioned?】

【Yes, you’re the only one.】

The chaos of getting home need not be mentioned—once again, the program’s pre-set kitchen ended up in disaster under her hands, and Gu Yining decisively abandoned the immature idea of cooking herself.

Food delivery it was.

Bai Xia had inherited her taste, so whatever she liked, Bai Xia liked as well. Ordering was effortless. The moment the takeout boxes were opened, the little piglet’s eyes lit up.

She hadn’t ordered in yesterday, partly out of misplaced confidence, partly out of fear that Bai Xia’s parents would be displeased watching the livestream. But clearly, delivery was the best solution after all.

“Is it good?” Gu Yining couldn’t resist asking.

“So good!” The little one clutched a drumstick the size of her face, nodding eagerly, her fair cheeks shining with grease.

“Look at you, like a little kitten.” Gu Yining chuckled, wiping her mouth clean with a tissue. “Do you always eat like this at home too?”

Would someone like Bai Qingqiu really tolerate her eating this way? Though, perhaps she didn’t have much time to spend at home with her daughter anyway—the company never seemed to rest.

“Mm-hmm.”

The child had no idea of her tangled thoughts. She hugged her chicken leg with delight, eyes squeezed into crescents, feet swinging in joy.

On the plane, Bai Qingqiu was nothing like the composed woman she appeared before Gu Yining. Even miles away, it felt as though she could still smell the long-lost fragrance of roses lingering at the tip of her nose.

Gu Yining.

She silently mouthed the name again and again, each time dragging up memories, sensations, and emotions that nearly suffocated her. The composure she prided herself on always crumbled when faced with these two syllables.

There had been too many times when she’d been reduced to disgrace before her, too many moments that still warmed her heart even in recollection.

They said she had used her, but at this point, who had truly needed whom? Who had used whom?

Perhaps no one could say for certain.

Unlike Bei Nanyan—just a past she would rather not speak of—Gu Yining was the debt she had owed from the very beginning, the former lover she would have to face for a lifetime.

Because between them, there was Bai Xia.

She could never sever that bond completely, never erase the connection between mother and daughter. Bai Xia’s very existence bore Gu Yining’s imprint—inescapable, indelible.

Yet she didn’t hate it. She didn’t regret it.

Bei Nanyan had left. Gu Yining had left. But Bai Xia would not leave. Bai Xia would stay by her side forever, obedient and well-behaved—just as she had once wished Gu Yining would.

The price was merely to re-establish contact with Gu Yining.

Acceptable.

A transaction from which she could only profit—why not?

Bai Qingqiu smoothed her chest with a slow breath, lifted a glass of water, and swallowed it down along with the sleeping pill, the chill sliding heavily into her stomach.