As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 42

Those two words truly stunned Bai Qingqiu for a long moment.

She had thought of many names, but never—never—hers.

“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly, unable to believe that such a thing could be something Bei Nanyan would do.

Across from her, Gu Yining lifted an eyebrow and simply rose from the sofa. Her bare feet sank into the soft carpet as she walked toward Bai Qingqiu step by step. As an Alpha, she was inevitably a little taller. When she deliberately raised her chin, she could easily look down at Bai Qingqiu from above, just like this.

Under that scrutinizing gaze, Bai Qingqiu instinctively stepped back half a pace and bumped into the edge of the bed. Her body trembled slightly, yet her expression remained unchanged as she calmly returned Gu Yining’s look, meeting those complicated, dark eyes that hovered over her.

For an instant, something flashed through Gu Yining’s gaze—something Bai Qingqiu couldn’t quite decipher—but it vanished so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined it.

The Gu Yining of the past was someone whose thoughts were obvious at a glance. Or rather not entirely. At least during that brief period after Gu Yining learned about Bei Nanyan, Bai Qingqiu hadn’t been able to read her either.

After a moment, Gu Yining turned her head away, averting her eyes. Her carefully styled long hair fell over her shoulders, concealing whatever expression lingered on her face.

“I’m sure. She’s the only one who meets all the conditions,” Gu Yining said, her tone devoid of emotion. “Or is it that you don’t want to believe it’s her?”

Bai Qingqiu neither confirmed nor denied it.

She was accustomed to weighing everything carefully—and Bei Nanyan was the same. If this old matter truly had been orchestrated by Bei Nanyan from behind the scenes, as Gu Yining claimed, then what could Bei Nanyan possibly gain?

Five years ago, Bei Nanyan had approached them purely because there was profit to be had. She could leverage the history between the two of them, naturally place herself on Gu Yining’s side, and smoothly sign Bai Qingqiu to one of the Big Three agencies.

But now, five years later, dredging up these long-irrelevant events—what would that accomplish, other than pushing Gu Yining even farther away from her? What could Bei Nanyan gain?

Reaching the current level of public attention would have cost Bei Nanyan quite a bit as well.

A deal that was all loss and no gain—Bai Qingqiu didn’t believe Bei Nanyan would do that.

Gu Yining let out a knowing smile, one corner of her mouth curling upward with a sharp edge of mockery.

Of course, she could guess why Bai Qingqiu wore that expression at this moment—nothing more than thinking that she still couldn’t let go of Bei Nanyan, that she was so blinded she refused to believe just how terrible Bei Nanyan could be.

She could have ignored it, let Gu Yining think whatever she wanted. But Bai Qingqiu couldn’t help herself from speaking up.

“What do you mean by that?” The words came out almost like an accusation. As soon as she finished speaking, Bai Qingqiu realized she had lost control of her emotions. She pressed her lips together, forcing down that inexplicable surge of anger in her chest.

“Do you really not understand?” Gu Yining said. Bai Qingqiu was the one growing agitated, yet Gu Yining was the picture of calm rationality, speaking slowly and evenly. “Bei Nanyan didn’t do this for profit. She did it for you.”

If the content of her words hadn’t been so shocking, Bai Qingqiu might have been able to absorb some of them.

“For me?” Bai Qingqiu echoed.

“She hasn’t let go of you, Bai Qingqiu,” Gu Yining said bluntly. “When she saw you and me reconnect because of the child, she got jealous. She couldn’t accept it. What she wants isn’t profit—it’s emotional satisfaction. The satisfaction of seeing that if you can’t let go of me, then you can’t let go of her either.”

The anger in Bai Qingqiu’s chest went out like a snuffed flame.

She fell silent. She couldn’t completely refute Gu Yining’s speculation—yet she couldn’t accept it either. She had thought she understood Bei Nanyan’s character better than anyone, but Gu Yining’s words told her that perhaps she hadn’t understood her at all.

“You really think she’d go to such lengths for that?” Bai Qingqiu asked again. This time, her tone was no longer aggressive, but it still carried doubt in the pauses between her words.

“Even the most rational people aren’t always driven by self-interest alone,” Gu Yining shrugged, then smiled at her—a smile tinged with mockery and bitterness.

Bai Qingqiu let out a long breath.

“I’ll look into it. If it really is her.” It was as much a response to Gu Yining as anything else. As for how to deal with it, even she didn’t know. By all logic, after so many years apart, everything should have faded long ago. And yet now, between her, Bei Nanyan, and Gu Yining, everything was tangled into an inescapable mess.

“Then that’s between you two. It has nothing to do with me,” Gu Yining said, clearly distancing herself.

Fine. One less person involved would make things simpler. Bai Qingqiu’s thoughts were in such disarray that she no longer had the energy to consider who Gu Yining was, or what she might think.

“Alright. You should go,” she said, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

Gu Yining nodded without hesitation. She turned back to the sofa, bent down, and picked up the pair of high heels she had kicked off onto the carpet earlier. Her pale ankles were fully exposed, making the raw, chafed wound where the shoe had rubbed painfully obvious.

Bai Qingqiu’s gaze landed on it without her meaning to.

“Gu Yining,” she said, unable to stop herself from reminding her, “take a pair of the hotel’s disposable slippers. Don’t wear those—you’ve broken the skin on your foot.”

“I know,” Gu Yining replied without lifting her head. Her long hair fell forward, hiding her expression from view. Bai Qingqiu only saw her slide her foot back into the high heel, putting it on without the slightest hesitation.

She straightened as if nothing was wrong, slung her delicate chain-strap bag over her shoulder, and walked toward the door.

Bai Qingqiu looked away. She didn’t want to watch her leave—but the sound of footsteps suddenly stopped. She turned her head to see Gu Yining standing at the entryway. One more step and she would be out in the hotel corridor. Half of her figure was bathed in the corridor’s warm yellow light, the other half swallowed by the dimness of the foyer.

“Can I ask you something?” Gu Yining said.

“Go ahead,” Bai Qingqiu replied.

“Since Bei Nanyan can’t forget you either—and you’ve always loved her—will the two of you get back together?” she asked.

Bai Qingqiu lifted her gaze to look at her, searching her face for even the faintest hint of a joke.

There was none.

“This has nothing to do with you, Gu Yining,” Bai Qingqiu said.

As the words fell, Gu Yining moved. Without looking back, she turned and left, stepping into the bright, spacious corridor. She reached behind her to close the still-open door, sealing off any further words and all remaining possibilities between them.

The room returned to silence, leaving Bai Qingqiu alone with nothing but her own thoughts spreading through the quiet space.

Gu Yining walked alone down the empty corridor, calmer than she herself had expected. Hearing Bai Qingqiu’s answers hadn’t surprised her—and yet she wasn’t as heartbroken as she had imagined she would be.

She thought that if it was the Gu Yining of five years ago, she would have felt utterly betrayed, crying so hard it would have been humiliating.

But crying is useless. It can’t make someone who doesn’t love you start loving you, nor can it untangle a relationship that’s already knotted beyond repair. Tears only have meaning because the other person loves you—because they love you, they feel pain for you.

Look at it this way: she had said so many things to Bai Qingqiu that she’d never intended to say. Did Bai Qingqiu show even a flicker of reaction?

No.

She was the same as she’d been five years ago—she hadn’t lied to her, and she hadn’t even been willing to lie.

She loved Bei Nanyan. That was why she hesitated for so long, unable to even think about what should be done to Bei Nanyan.

From beginning to end, the only one drowning in this relationship had been Gu Yining herself.

Perhaps, on Bai Qingqiu’s side, those five years hadn’t even amounted to love.

Gu Yining stopped at the elevator, staring at her reflection in the mirrored doors—long strands of hair clumped together, damp with tears.

Let go?

It really was time to let go.