As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 45

Bei Nanyan stormed out, her face full of indignation.

She hadn’t spat any venomous words—after all, they were adults—but perhaps she had realized that her tantrum looked particularly petty. In matters concerning Bei Nanyan, Gu Yining for the first time felt a sense of solidarity with Bai Qingqiu, as if they were on the same side against a common enemy.

How novel.

And satisfying.

Her calmness in facing Bei Nanyan wasn’t the hollow pretense Bei Nanyan had shown toward her. At least, Bei Nanyan had no leverage to actually hurt her.

As she had thought, the only “chips” Bei Nanyan still held were rumors about her and Bai Qingqiu. Even if Bei Nanyan completely lost her shame and tried to drag the tangled mess of emotions between the three of them into public ridicule, what real harm could it do to Gu Yining?

Celebrities having benefactors was nothing unusual.

And the benefactor was, indeed, just a benefactor.

Gu Yining shook her head, amused. A few years ago, who would have imagined that she could make Bei Nanyan stew in long-standing jealousy?

After finishing her work for the day, she quietly went to Bai Qingqiu’s villa, and—predictably—the owner wasn’t home. Years had passed, yet Bai Qingqiu still treated her company like home and her home like the company.

Gu Yining picked up the slightly heavier little girl she hadn’t seen in days, weighing her in her arms. She realized that if she waited much longer, she might not be able to lift her at all.

“Aunt, play blocks with me,” Bai Xia said, blinking her big eyes and waving the block in her hand.

Ever since Bai Qingqiu had forbidden her from joining that show, Bai Xia hadn’t called her “Mom” again.

Gu Yining didn’t mind.

It was just a name. If Bai Xia called Bei Nanyan “Mom,” would that really make Bei Nanyan her biological mother? Not necessarily.

Still, hearing Bai Xia call her “Mom” was undeniably sweeter than “Aunt.”

“Xia, my little one,” Gu Yining said, sitting with her on the sofa and meeting the child’s innocent, puzzled eyes. “In a few days, Aunt might not be able to come play with you. Be good and listen to Aunt Han, okay?”

Bai Xia nodded instinctively, astonishingly mature for her age, asking no further questions.

“Don’t you want to know why?” Gu Yining smoothed the messy braids in Bai Xia’s hair, untangling them and fixing them into a neat ponytail. The girl’s hair, like hers, was fine and soft—grasped tightly, it slipped through her fingers, but loosely laid and arranged, it stayed in place perfectly.

“Why?” Bai Xia asked in her soft, childish voice, sitting properly on her lap, though her short legs wiggled slightly in midair.

“Hmm, Aunt has to work, just like Mommy. Mommy might have to work a few days too,” Gu Yining said, busy with her hands, tying the hair into a tidy, even ponytail. Smooth, straight, perfect.

It was much better than the first time she had tried to style Bai Xia’s hair.

Styling her own hair and someone else’s shared some logic; it just took practice. Things seemed harder before you tried them, but once you started, they were actually simple—like so many things in life.

“Are Aunt and Mommy working together?” Bai Xia tilted her head up.

Gu Yining hesitated for a moment.

She had said this because she’d just glanced at the time after responding to a work message, realizing Bai Qingqiu’s yearly heat cycle was only a few days away. As an alpha, she naturally shouldn’t be around then. How Bai Qingqiu herself would manage, she didn’t know—but either way, they had to avoid involving the child.

In other words, they would be going out.

She didn’t want to lie; explaining too much would be difficult for a child who was already perceptive. So, she simply nodded.

“Yes, Aunt and Mommy will be working together in a few days.”

Bai Xia didn’t ask anything further but immediately turned her thoughts elsewhere.

“Why do adults have to work? Mommy’s never home. I miss Mommy.”

The soft, plaintive voice landed like a little hammer on the most tender part of Gu Yining’s heart. She instinctively tightened her hold on the child.

There was no answer she could give.

Once upon a time, she too had been waiting at home for Bai Qingqiu, from dusk till late night, from hope to disappointment. She knew all too well the taste of waiting.

She parted her lips, wanting to say something comforting, but words felt so hollow. Instead, she rested her chin atop Bai Xia’s head, gently stroking, and whispered,

“Because, Mommy is amazing. Many people need her. But the one who needs her most is our little Xia.”

These words, she realized, were as much for herself as for Bai Xia—a small comfort to the part of her still harboring lingering resentment over the past.

Shaking her head, Gu Yining chided herself for overthinking. It was all in the past. No need to dwell. She forced a smile, pinched Bai Xia’s cheeks, and set her down on the floor, resuming their focused play on a castle of blocks.

They were so engrossed that she didn’t immediately notice the sound of the front door opening.

It wasn’t until Bai Xia exclaimed, “Mommy!” in delight that Gu Yining froze, as if paused mid-frame, lifting her head.

Bai Qingqiu stood in the doorway, wearing a perfectly tailored professional suit, one hand holding a phone, the other undoing the top button of her blouse. She hadn’t expected to see Gu Yining here. Her eyes flickered with a subtle

surprise before returning to her usual cool demeanor.

The air thickened instantly.

Bai Xia dashed forward like a little cannonball, wrapping her arms around Bai Qingqiu’s legs. Bai Qingqiu bent down to scoop her up, the usual corporate detachment softening briefly, but when her gaze passed over Gu Yining, it turned polite yet distant again.

“You’re here,” Bai Qingqiu said, a trace of barely noticeable weariness in her expression.

“Yes, just came to see Xia,” Gu Yining replied, standing and brushing off imaginary dust, trying to look natural.

They shared a brief, strained glance before averting their eyes, nodding lightly—a minimal acknowledgment.

The atmosphere was suffocatingly awkward. Gu Yining hadn’t intended to leave immediately; after all, she had been enjoying her time with Bai Xia. Yet standing there, she felt like an unnecessary ornament, unsure what to do with her hands.

At that moment, Bai Qingqiu’s phone rang.

She glanced at the caller ID without hesitation, answering openly in front of Gu Yining. Adjusting Bai Xia in her arms for comfort, she lifted the phone to her ear and turned toward the inner living room, brushing past Gu Yining as she walked.

Her opening words were calm, neutral.

“Mm, I’m home. What’s up?”

Gu Yining’s body stiffened instinctively.

Because in the split second she crossed paths with Bai Qingqiu, she had clearly caught, through the partially uncovered phone receiver, a voice she knew far too well—sharp, grating, unforgettable.

Bei Nanyan.

Even if it had only been one or two indistinct syllables, she would never have mistaken it.

Her breathing involuntarily softened. She stayed rooted in place, unmoving, yet her gaze couldn’t help but follow Bai Qingqiu’s retreating figure.

“I said it—let’s leave it at that. I don’t want to pursue it further.”

Bai Qingqiu’s voice came from nearby, calm, professional, distant.

“Leave it, not pursue it.”

Every single word was like a stamp of confirmation on Gu Yining’s worst suspicions. She had agonized over that matter for so long, deliberating endlessly, only revealing the truth once she was certain it had been Bei Nanyan—and had dared to ask the question, “Could we reconcile?” Bai Qingqiu had answered with silence.

And now, over the phone, she dismissed it all with such casual indifference.

What was this?

A surge of nameless fury, mixed with bitter acid, shot from her chest straight to her forehead.

She should have turned and walked away immediately, out of sight, out of mind. Yet her legs felt nailed to the spot, stubbornly wanting to hear the rest of this call—a public execution, as far as she was concerned.

“Mm, the day after tomorrow.”

“Same place as before.”

“Alright, that’s it. Bye.”

A brief conversation, cleanly ended.

Bai Qingqiu hung up, slipped the phone casually into her pocket, and resumed talking to Bai Xia as if the call had been nothing more than handling some trivial matter.

But to Gu Yining, every single word formed a complete, chillingly final “thing” about to unfold.

The day after tomorrow. Same place. Not pursuing it.

Everything—completely, perfectly closed.

Standing there, Gu Yining felt her blood freeze instantly. A sharp, sour sting pierced her heart. Yet her face betrayed not a flicker of emotion.

She even managed a perfectly timed, gracious smile in the direction of Bai Qingqiu and Bai Xia.

She couldn’t leave—not like this.

If she turned and ran now, her panicked expression would plainly say to Bai Qingqiu, “I heard. I care. I can’t let go. I’ve let myself be hurt by you.”

No.

Gu Yining, you don’t care anymore. You promised yourself you’d let it go.

She told herself this.

She didn’t move to leave. Instead, she took steady, deliberate steps into the inner hall, stopping just half an arm’s length from Bai Qingqiu.

“The castle’s almost done,” she said to Bai Xia, cheerful as if nothing had happened. “We just need the tallest tower. Shall we finish it together?”

“Okay!” Bai Xia’s attention was immediately captured.

Bai Qingqiu’s eyes flickered with curiosity at Gu Yining’s sudden approach. After the call, she felt there was something different in her demeanor—beneath the polite distance, an unidentifiable layer of emotion.

She couldn’t read her anymore.

Gu Yining ignored the scrutiny, gently took Bai Xia from Bai Qingqiu’s arms, and sat down with her at the blocks. Patiently, she helped the little one carefully place the final pieces together. Her movements were steady, precise—her long fingers unshaken.

“All done!”

The last block was placed. Bai Xia cheered.

“Great job,” Gu Yining praised, then lifted her gaze to meet Bai Qingqiu’s.

Calm. Polite. In every sense, normal.

“It’s getting late,” she said, her voice smooth, betraying no emotion—simply stating an ordinary fact. “I have a shoot tomorrow, so I’ll head back.”

“Aunt Han will see you out,” Bai Qingqiu said, turning to her.

“No need,” Gu Yining replied, standing. She waved to Bai Xia.

“Goodnight, Xia. Aunt’s leaving.”

“Goodnight, Aunt!” Bai Xia’s soft voice answered.

Then Gu Yining turned and left the villa, composed and unhurried, without a backward glance.

Flawless.

Until she sat in her car and closed the door.

Every ounce of carefully maintained calm and warmth on her face collapsed instantly.

She didn’t gasp or slump in defeat. She sat quietly, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned pale. She bit her lip, using the pain to suppress the wave of bitterness swelling in her eyes.

The rearview mirror reflected a blank, expressionless face.

So, this was what it meant to not care.

To act it so perfectly.

All the awards, all the scolding on set—it had been worth it.

Worth it enough to almost fool even herself.