As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 55.1

The outside world had long since been swallowed by night, yet Bai Qingqiu’s study remained as bright as day.

Spread out before her were quarterly reports on overseas expansion and market research—rows of cold, impersonal numbers and charts, along with the many branches of BaiXing’s business. Together, they formed a fortress against reality. In the company, in her career, she could control everything. As long as you did the work, as long as you looked carefully and analyzed thoroughly, you could always tell what would happen next and what changes lay ahead.

It was always controllable. Always predictable.

That was precisely why Bai Qingqiu loved immersing herself in work.

Just as she was about to delve deeper into the data, a rapid, forceful knock shattered the stillness of the study.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Bai Qingqiu’s fingers paused over the page. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Aunt Han had been by her side for over a decade—no matter how grave the situation, she would never come knocking like this. There was only one person in the world who would.

Gu Yining.

Bai Qingqiu set the documents aside. A vague sense of unease rose in her chest. The knocking continued, each rap landing like a blow against her heart. Gu Yining was not someone who panicked easily. Even though she often wore her worries openly, she was never the type to disturb Bai Qingqiu over trivial matters.

Something must have happened—something Gu Yining believed she could not handle alone, something for which Bai Qingqiu was the only answer.

Bai Qingqiu reached for the cane beside her, braced herself as she stood, and limped toward the door. Her hand closed around the cold doorknob.

She took a deep breath, composed her expression, and turned the handle.

Outside, Gu Yining had her hand raised, about to knock again. The moment the door opened, she froze, her eyes snapping immediately to Bai Qingqiu.

“Bai Qingqiu!” Gu Yining called her by her full name. “Xia Xia—Xia Xia’s fever is back!” She spoke in a rush, even stumbling over her words. Her loungewear was wrinkled, her eyes rimmed red.

At those words, Bai Qingqiu’s heart sank. Her grip tightened instinctively around the cane, though her face remained eerily calm.

“What happened?” she asked coolly. “Explain it clearly.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s because I opened the window this afternoon when I was playing blocks with her, and she caught a draft.” Gu Yining’s voice trembled, on the verge of tears, her hands gesturing helplessly. “Her fever had almost gone down, but now it’s back up to thirty-eight degrees. She’s so uncomfortable she can’t even sleep.”

As she spoke, Gu Yining finally broke down. Tears spilled freely, her eyes filled with pain and crushing self-blame.

“I tried everything they teach online—wiping her down with warm water—but it didn’t help at all. What should we do? Bai Qingqiu, let’s take her to the hospital. Right now. The internet says that when young children have a fever, it’s easy for it to affect their brain.”

Bai Qingqiu looked at the panic etched across Gu Yining’s face and fell silent for a moment. She neither agreed nor refused. Instead, she turned and moved as quickly as she could toward the children’s room, leaning heavily on her cane.

Gu Yining froze for a second, then hastily wiped her tears and followed.

They reached the children’s room one after the other. Aunt Han was just coming out, carrying a basin of warm water. The two parties met right outside Bai Xia’s door.

Worry clouded Aunt Han’s face as well.

Bai Qingqiu pressed her lips together, offered no unnecessary greetings, and went straight to the bedside.

Curled up on the small bed, Bai Xia looked far worse than she had in the afternoon. Her little face was flushed with fever, her lips dry and peeling. She tossed and turned under the blanket, her tiny brows knitted tightly together.

“Xia Xia.” Supporting herself against the edge of the bed, Bai Qingqiu sat down on the stool Gu Yining pulled over and called softly.

Bai Xia let out a pitiful whimper, too miserable even to call for her mother.

“It hurts,” she rasped hoarsely, tears pattering down her cheeks.

Bai Qingqiu reached out and touched her forehead. It was scalding. The shocking heat made her fingertips tremble, just slightly.

“What did the doctor say?” Bai Qingqiu asked without turning back.

“They said adenovirus is like this—repeated high fevers. There’s no specific cure. If there’s a fever, you give fever medicine; if there’s inflammation, you give anti-inflammatory medicine. There’s nothing else you can do.” Gu Yining’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “But that’s just treating the symptoms, not the cause. Xia Xia is in so much pain, and there’s nothing we can do. We can only watch her endure it herself. She’s only four years old.”

Yes.

Bai Qingqiu withdrew her hand and silently watched the small figure on the bed suffering through her illness. In her eyes—so accustomed to hardness, to suppressing all emotion—there now swirled a tangle of feelings: heartache, worry, and above all, the same deep, helpless pain woven through Gu Yining’s words.

The decisiveness she had always taken pride in felt pale and absurd in the face of her daughter’s suffering.

“I’m going back to the study to deal with some documents,” Bai Qingqiu said at last, her voice slow and steady, her expression already restored to its usual composure. “If anything urgent happens, come find me.”

With that, she didn’t look at Gu Yining, nor at Bai Xia, who was still whimpering in discomfort. Propping herself up with her cane, she turned and left the room without a backward glance.

Gu Yining, standing beside her, unconsciously followed a few steps, watching as the study door once again closed in front of her—cleanly, decisively, without the slightest hesitation.

With the sound of that door shutting, Gu Yining’s heart cooled, bit by bit.

She had thought that, seeing their daughter in such pain, Bai Qingqiu would at least stay—stay by her side. But she didn’t. Once again, between her child and her work, Bai Qingqiu chose the endless, never-ending demands of her career.

Just like that day—when she hadn’t even spared Bai Xia a glance, leaving everything to Aunt Han to take the child to the hospital, while she herself returned to the office to work overtime.

The flicker of tenderness Gu Yining had felt upon glimpsing Bai Qingqiu’s hidden vulnerability was once again doused by icy disappointment.

Perhaps, she thought, she had been mistaken all along. How could Bai Qingqiu ever be fragile?

No one could defeat Bai Qingqiu.

Bai Qingqiu was forever the strongest—utterly invincible.

Just as she had always been.

She was like a lofty mountain forever beyond reach—standing plainly before you, yet no matter how desperately you ran toward her, you remained stranded at the foot of the mountain, never able to touch her, never able to draw close.

After Bai Qingqiu left, there was no reason for Gu Yining or Aunt Han to go as well. The two of them crouched by Bai Xia’s bed, patiently keeping the sick child company—talking to her, patting her back when she felt uncomfortable, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead, gestures that did little in a practical sense, yet let Bai Xia feel that there were people who cared for her, who were supporting her.

Burning with fever and half-delirious, Bai Xia buried her face in the pillow, then reached out a small hand to tug at Gu Yining’s sleeve, murmuring softly,

“I want Huggy Bear.”

Gu Yining paused for a moment before understanding, from the child’s illness-induced economy of words, what she meant. The Huggy Bear Bai Xia wanted was the stuffed bear she and Bai Qingqiu had won years ago at a ring-toss booth during one of their dates. She had kept it by her side ever since, and later given it to Bai Xia. By now, the bear showed obvious signs of age and wear.

Gu Yining didn’t have time to dwell on the complicated emotions that surfaced. She answered at once and stood up to search the room. She moved furniture, opened drawers and cabinets, looking everywhere, yet found nothing.

That was when Aunt Han spoke up.

“Miss Gu, could it be that I put it in the toy room this afternoon when I was tidying up the toys?”

Gu Yining, who had been pacing anxiously, stopped short. She rummaged through her memory for any trace of the bear—and immediately found it.

That’s right! That afternoon, when she and Xia Xia were building a castle out of blocks, Xia Xia had said she wanted to bring Bear-Bear over to help build it. Gu Yining had taken the bear off the bed and put it on the floor with them.

“Thank you, Aunt Han.” Gu Yining patted her forehead, gratitude flooding her voice. She hurried out of the room, heading for the toy room.

The corridor was as quiet as ever. The toy room was the small room at the very end of the hallway. But as Gu Yining passed the study in her haste, she faintly heard, through the narrow gap of the tightly closed door, a thin, deliberately suppressed sound of sobbing.

Gu Yining froze, her steps retreating as her body went rigid, unable to move.

Inside the study, there was only Bai Qingqiu.

The sobbing was very soft, and muffled further by the door. If not for the utter stillness of the corridor—and Gu Yining’s nerves stretched taut—she might not have noticed it at all.

But no matter how faint it was, the sound was there. And it kept coming.

She should have gone straight to the toy room, grabbed the bear, and left. Yet her feet seemed magnetized, carrying her against her will to the door of the study.

Separated by a single door was Bai Qingqiu’s unseen, fragmented, suppressed crying.

Gu Yining held her breath and gently placed her hand on the doorknob, testing it with care. She barely used any force; the lock made only a soft click.

Thank goodness.

Gu Yining felt a flicker of relief.

Bai Qingqiu hadn’t locked the door.

Very carefully, making as little sound as possible, Gu Yining pushed the door open a narrow, almost imperceptible crack.

What she saw made her heart feel as though it was being clenched tightly in a fist, leaving her unable to breathe.

That Bai Qingqiu—always so composed before everyone, always impeccable and unassailable—was now curled up in an office chair far too large for her, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her shoulders shook incessantly, trembling with sobs. It was a fragility Gu Yining had never once witnessed.

In the five years she had spent with Bai Qingqiu, she had never seen her emotions fluctuate so violently, let alone seen her cry. She had almost believed that crying simply did not exist as a function for Bai Qingqiu. Yet it turned out that Bai Qingqiu was, after all, just a person—a person who even had to hide to cry, who had to suppress every sound, who could not let even the closest people see her like this.

Each muffled sob was like a blade honed to the sharpest edge, slicing into Gu Yining’s heart again and again. In that moment, all reason, all resentment, dissolved completely. Only one thought remained in her mind.

Push the door open. Run in. Hold her. Hold this woman who was pretending to be strong.

But when Gu Yining’s hand once again closed around the icy, lifeless doorknob, the cold jolted her back to her senses.

Scene after scene surfaced in her mind—images of the Bai Qingqiu she knew.

The Bai Qingqiu who had stubbornly refused to go to the hospital even after falling to the ground.

The Bai Qingqiu who had awkwardly accepted her care on the sofa.

The Bai Qingqiu who, by Bai Xia’s bedside, would avert her face even after meeting Gu Yining’s gaze for just a second.

Bai Qingqiu was proud to the bone, possessed of a stubbornness Gu Yining could never fully understand. It was precisely because she resisted even the slightest exposure of her vulnerability that she hid herself away, crying in a corner where no one could see.

Gu Yining’s hand stiffened on the doorknob. She realized that her impulse to barge in at this moment might not be comfort to Bai Qingqiu, but a far crueler wound.

A self-righteous humiliation—tearing away the very last layer of concealment Bai Qingqiu had struggled so hard to drape over herself.

What right did she have to deny Bai Qingqiu even the space to process her own emotions?

At that thought, Gu Yining’s heart clenched in wave after wave of pain. Her nose burned, tears spilling uncontrollably and blurring her vision. She suddenly remembered that she was standing right outside Bai Qingqiu’s door—she shouldn’t be like this. Instinctively, she sniffed and tried to suppress her crying, forgetting that in such stillness, any sound would be magnified.

Magnified to unbearable clarity.

Inside the study, Bai Qingqiu’s body stiffened abruptly.

She heard it.

Gu Yining’s heart lurched violently. Before she could react, she saw Bai Qingqiu hug herself even tighter, as if trying to shrink entirely into the office chair. Yet the injured leg resting on the low stool made the effort futile; she could not hide as completely as she wished, most of her figure still exposed to view.

The message was unmistakable.

Bai Qingqiu had heard her, knew she was there—and yet she rejected her presence utterly, unwilling for Gu Yining to stay, unwilling to let her see this side of her.

Gu Yining lowered her head, guilt and pain twisting together in her chest. She gently closed the heavy door of the study for her.

Turning away, Gu Yining walked toward the toy room to fetch the Huggy Bear Bai Xia had been longing for—for far too long.

In the toy room, the bear sat quietly where it had been left. Gu Yining picked it up and returned to Bai Xia’s side, placing it into the little girl’s arms.

Bai Xia’s eyes lit up. She hugged the bear tightly, pressing her small face against it in dependence. The sight was undeniably adorable—yet it stirred nothing in Gu Yining’s heart. Her thoughts had already drifted back to an afternoon more than ten years ago.

It had been her first date with Bai Qingqiu, in an utterly ordinary park in G City. There was an utterly ordinary ring-toss stall there—one you could find anywhere—and the prize had been nothing remarkable at all.

Just a Huggy Bear.

But it had been a prize Bai Qingqiu won herself—buying a set of rings and landing them, one after another, over the marked targets. Back then, she had hugged the little bear, laughing in delight, and Bai Qingqiu had laughed too. Later came their relationship. They were together for a full five years before Gu Yining finally realized that the love she believed in was nothing more than being a stand-in for Bei Nanyan. And so, she and Bai Qingqiu broke up.

When she left that villa, she took none of the expensive jewelry Bai Qingqiu offered her, nor any of the luxury goods. The only thing she took with her was that bear.