As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 49

On the other side of town, in the top-floor executive office of BaiXing Entertainment, Bai Qingqiu had just wrapped up a long and exhausting overseas video conference.

She ended the call and leaned heavily back into the wide leather chair, closing her eyes as she lifted a hand to press firmly against her throbbing temples. The heat cycle that had lingered for days had finally receded, yet what it left behind was not relief, but exhaustion and weakness. Like a taut string released all at once, every joint in her body ached with a deep, indescribable soreness.

On top of that, she had spent the past several days burying herself in towering stacks of documents and back-to-back meetings, using work to resist—and escape—those thoughts she shouldn’t have had at all. She had barely rested.

Bai Qingqiu could vaguely sense that her body was already flashing warning signs. No matter how resilient one was, no one could withstand this kind of consumption forever.

But she had no other choice. With no Alpha by her side, she could only immerse herself in work—using it to redirect her willpower and suppress the rampant urges within. Otherwise, she would be ruled by her pheromones, stripped of reason, reduced to a mindless, instinct-driven creature.

At that moment, the desk phone rang, thoroughly ill-timed.

“President Bai, all department heads have arrived. The weekly meeting can begin,” her secretary’s voice came through the receiver, efficient and respectful as always.

Bai Qingqiu opened her eyes. The fleeting trace of fatigue from earlier had already vanished, leaving behind only her usual composure. She responded with a quiet “Mm,” picked up the meeting materials prepared at the side of her desk, and headed toward the elevator.

The mirrored doors reflected her current appearance—impeccable makeup, flawless grooming, sharp and energetic. She was once again the unassailable CEO of BaiXing Entertainment.

She stepped into the elevator with a slight nod. Moments later, the private elevator arrived at the conference floor. As the doors slid open, Bai Qingqiu instinctively lifted her chin, her gaze sweeping across the people before her as she entered the executive conference room that symbolized absolute authority and took her seat at the head of the table.

Endless PowerPoint slides. Cold data reports. These were the domains she knew best and excelled at most—yet at this moment, they struggled to truly register in her mind. Her fingers unconsciously twirled an expensive fountain pen. She looked attentive, but her thoughts drifted again and again.

“In summary, I believe this charity gala presents an excellent opportunity for us to establish deeper contact with Miss Gu Yining’s team,” the Marketing Director concluded confidently at the projection screen, her voice animated and assured, clearly well-prepared. “Miss Gu’s popularity is soaring, and her public appeal is evident. Our preliminary plan is to have the brand representative approach her at the gala to establish initial cooperation. PR can then follow up to discuss several high-quality endorsement opportunities and explore resource exchanges under friendly terms. Securing even one or two would pave the way for her return to BaiXing.”

Bai Qingqiu did not interrupt. She listened quietly, allowing the proposal to be painted in grand, enticing strokes.

Only when the report ended—when the director bowed slightly and looked over with hopeful anticipation—did Bai Qingqiu respond. She did not comment on the merits of the plan. Instead, she picked up the proposal with her other hand, took the pen she had been idly spinning, and drew a single, clean, decisive horizontal line straight across the title.

The bold black line lay stark against the white page. Its meaning was unmistakable.

“This proposal can be archived,” Bai Qingqiu said coolly, her voice carrying unquestionable authority throughout the room. “She won’t be coming.”

The smile on the Marketing Director’s face froze, replaced by shock and confusion.

Bai Qingqiu offered no further explanation. She snapped her fingers lightly, signaling for the agenda to move on.

“Next. Project Development.”

The meeting dragged on until late into the night. Nearly ten hours of relentless discussion drained everyone present. The executives filtered out of the conference room in small groups, low murmurs of complaint and weary sighs occasionally slipping through.

Bai Qingqiu didn’t move. Still seated at the head of the table, she massaged her swollen brow. The headache brought on by lack of rest had grown sharper. Only after everyone else had left did she rise and head toward the coffee station next door, intending to make herself a shot of espresso to stay awake.

The meeting might have ended, but a fresh stack of documents still awaited her signature.

Just as she reached the door to the coffee area, she heard two female voices conversing softly in the adjacent snack room, its door left ajar. One was clearly the Marketing Director; the other sounded like a colleague.

“It’s such a shame. I spent weeks preparing that proposal. How did it get shut down just like that?” The director’s voice brimmed with frustration. “Gu Yining’s side had such a good attitude before—they even cooperated with our clarification statement. It was the perfect icebreaker. How could she skip the gala altogether? Her schedule’s been wide open lately—it’s obvious the Big Three are starting to sideline her. Besides, her assistant hasn’t even replied to decline yet. Who knows, she might agree any minute now.”

The coffee machine hummed to life, the low grinding of beans conveniently masking Bai Qingqiu’s subtle movements. She retrieved a clean white porcelain cup from the cabinet and skillfully prepared a single espresso shot. Add hot water later, and it became her indispensable drink of recent years—a hot Americano. No sugar. No milk. Just coffee and water, sharp and bracing, its aroma released in full.

“Alright, don’t dwell on it,” her colleague said gently. “President Bai must have her reasons. After all these years, have you ever seen her misjudge?”

“That’s true. President Bai has never been wrong,” the Marketing Director sighed, then quickly changed the subject. “My god, nearly ten hours of meetings—I’m starving. What should we eat later? Honestly, President Bai is a machine.

Even after a meeting like this, she still has the energy to work overtime. You’d never guess she’s tired at all.”

The rich espresso streamed into the cup. Bai Qingqiu set it aside, pressed the hot water button, and watched boiling water pour into the fragrant coffee, filling the air with a deep, nutty aroma. Satisfied, she picked up the hot Americano and turned to leave.

Just before she stepped out of the coffee area, the Marketing Director’s voice drifted in again from next door, tinged with despair.

“It’s over. Just got the latest update. Gu Yining’s assistant replied. Said Gu Ning has other arrangements that night—she’s definitely not attending the gala.”

A brief silence followed. Then her colleague let out a laugh, half amused, half admiring.

“See? I told you. President Bai has never been wrong.”

Bai Qingqiu’s steps did not falter in the slightest. The outcome was exactly as she had expected—it stirred no ripples in her heart. She understood better than anyone that what Gu Yining needed least right now was charity from her, and what she most wanted to avoid was any occasion where Bai Qingqiu might appear.

Otherwise, Gu Yining wouldn’t be Gu Yining.

Holding the cup of bitter, astringent coffee, Bai Qingqiu returned as usual to the deep night of her own office.

She didn’t turn on the main lights, leaving only a floor lamp by the window to cast a soft glow. She walked over to the massive floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the city below, illuminated by neon lights.

She raised the cup of scalding black coffee to her lips and gently blew on it, letting the rich, bitter aroma seep into her senses. Her subordinate’s words—“President Bai has never been wrong”—were like a small stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through her heart that refused to settle.

Yes. She had never missed.

Because no one understood better than she did that every step Gu Yining took backward now, every refusal she uttered, was built upon the choices Bai Qingqiu herself had made in the past. Being able to predict Gu Yining’s reaction—what was so impressive about that?

Bai Qingqiu’s fingers tightened slightly. The heat of the white porcelain cup seeped through her skin, scorching and painful, yet she had no intention of letting go.

She turned back to her desk, set the coffee down, and refused to indulge any longer in emotions that served no purpose. Forcing herself to refocus, she pulled out the chair and sat down, opened her laptop, and clicked into a draft file for an urgent overseas project. To her, work was the best anesthetic. As long as her mind was crammed full of information, the surging emotions and razor-sharp regret could, at least temporarily, be shoved into a corner.

Time slipped by amid the soft rustle of paper under her fingers and the crisp tapping of keys. One hour. Two hours. Just as she finished sorting through most of the core clauses of the proposal and was about to review the attachments, the phone on her desk suddenly lit up.

Caller ID: Aunt Han.

At this hour.

Bai Qingqiu’s heart tightened for no clear reason. She answered at once.

“Miss Bai,” Aunt Han said on the other end, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Xia has a bit of a fever.”

Bai Qingqiu froze, instinctively straightening her back. “What happened? What’s her temperature?”

“She was playing in the yard during the day and took off her coat—probably caught a chill. I just checked: thirty-seven point eight. It hasn’t reached thirty-eight yet,” Aunt Han reported carefully. “Her little face is flushed, she’s a bit fussy.

I’ve wiped her down with warm water and given her some fluids.”

Hearing that it wasn’t a high fever yet, Bai Qingqiu’s tightly wound nerves eased slightly. Her voice remained calm as she gave instructions.

“Continue with physical cooling methods and keep a close eye on her. Make sure she drinks plenty of water. If her temperature keeps rising—over thirty-eight point five—or if she shows any other symptoms, call me immediately. I’ll come back right away.”

“Alright, Miss Bai. Don’t worry—I’m here with her.”

The call ended, and the office fell back into silence. Bai Qingqiu stared at the screen filled with dense text. For a fleeting moment, she felt a powerful urge to close the laptop and rush home immediately.

But reason quickly smothered that impulse.

Going back now wouldn’t change anything. Aunt Han was experienced and knew exactly how to take care of her. And Bai Qingqiu still had two reports to review—documents the board would need first thing in the morning. She took a deep breath and forced her attention back to work. This time, though, her efficiency was noticeably lower. She kept glancing at her phone, checking that no new calls had come in.

Before she realized it, the first pale streak of dawn had appeared on the horizon. Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office, and only then did Bai Qingqiu belatedly realize that she had worked straight through the night.

What followed was pain so intense it felt as though it might tear her apart.

Her head throbbed as if it was about to explode, her temples pounding violently, her vision darkening in waves. She hadn’t rested properly even during her last cycle; her body was already depleted. After ten hours of high-intensity meetings and an entire night without sleep, her body finally issued a formal protest.

Exhausted, Bai Qingqiu pinched the bridge of her nose, then reached for her phone and dialed her driver, Aunt Dong.

“Aunt Dong, please come pick me up at the office,” she said. The moment she spoke, her hoarse voice startled even herself.

Let alone Aunt Dong, who was attentive by nature.

“Miss Bai, are you alright? Should I just take you straight to the hospital?”

“No need. I know my own body—some rest will do. I am tired, though, so please come as soon as you can.” Bai Qingqiu lowered her gaze as she explained. Aunt Dong had been with her for many years; at times like these, she wasn’t one to rigidly follow protocol. If Bai Qingqiu didn’t clarify, she really might have driven her straight to the hospital.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be there right away,” Aunt Dong sighed and quickly agreed.

After hanging up, Bai Qingqiu prepared to stand. But the instant she did, her legs gave out, and her body lurched forward, nearly collapsing to the floor. She hurriedly grabbed the cold edge of the desk, barely steadying herself.

She really couldn’t push on any longer.

She had always been clear about her physical limits—what she told Aunt Dong hadn’t been a polite excuse.

Forcing herself upright, she took out the flat shoes she’d long kept in her cabinet and changed into them, grabbed her handbag, and headed for the parking garage.

What once felt like a short, convenient route now seemed interminable in her condition. Down the corridor, into the elevator, out again, through another hallway, pushing open the company’s main doors, and finally walking toward her parking spot.

At last, she pulled open the door of the van.

The moment she sank into the soft, comfortable leather seat, Bai Qingqiu could no longer hold on. The taut string in her nerves snapped all at once. She set her phone to silent and tossed it aside, didn’t even bother taking off her coat, and closed her eyes as she let herself sink fully into the seat.

Her eyelids grew heavier, her consciousness slowly blurring. Before sleep claimed her completely, her last thought was that once she got home, she had to check on Bai Xia first.

Outside the window, the city was already awake.

Inside the vehicle, Bai Qingqiu drifted into deep sleep.

Beside her, the phone she had set to silent quietly lit up.

Caller ID: Aunt Han.

No one answered.

The call screen stubbornly remained lit, its faint glow flickering in the silent cabin—like one urgent, wordless call after another.

Until the light dimmed, and the system automatically ended the call.