As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 57.1

Gu Yining was woken by a series of intermittent voices—softened, deliberately lowered, drifting in and out of her sleep.

After pushing her body far past its limits, her sleep had turned out to be unexpectedly deep. Originally, she had only meant to close her eyes for a short rest on the bench, planning to check on Bai Xia again later to see whether her condition had relapsed. She hadn’t expected to fall asleep like that.

The dream was long. It felt as though she had plunged into a bottomless black hole, endlessly thinking that she needed to wake up, that she had to go check on Bai Xia—yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wake herself.

When Gu Yining finally opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the dull ache running through every joint in her body. Having curled up in such a narrow space for so long without moving had left her sore and stiff. Yet her mind—heavy and sluggish from days of exhaustion—felt astonishingly clear and alert after the solid stretch of sleep.

What first came into view was a thick, soft wool blanket draped over her.

Gu Yining froze for a moment. She distinctly remembered grabbing a coral-fleece cartoon blanket from Bai Xia’s room before dozing off. This—this expensive-looking wool blanket—was definitely not it.

Frowning slightly, she sat up in confusion. The wool blanket slid down naturally, revealing her legs beneath.

Sure enough, the coral-fleece blanket she’d taken earlier was there, half draped over her heels. The rest of it lay on the hallway floor, just like the wool blanket that had only moments ago been covering her.

It was obvious that while she’d been asleep, someone had noticed her blanket slipping off and had quietly replaced it with something warmer and more comfortable.

A clear guess surfaced in her mind almost instantly.

It had to be Aunt Han.

Seeing that Gu Yining was sleeping soundly and that the blanket had fallen away, Aunt Han must have worried she’d catch a chill and gone to fetch the wool blanket to cover her. In this house, only Aunt Han was that attentive and considerate.

Aunt Han always thought of everyone—just as she avoided disturbing Bai Qingqiu while she rested.

Warmth welled up in Gu Yining’s chest at the thought.

She picked both blankets up from the floor, folded them neatly one by one, stretched her slightly numb arms and legs, and hugged the blankets against her chest as she padded downstairs as quietly as possible.

On the carpet in the living room, Bai Xia was sitting cross-legged in front of her Lego castle set, enthusiastically flipping through the instruction manual and studying it. Beside her, Aunt Han smiled gently as she helped sort and organize the pieces, placing them neatly to one side so they’d be easier to grab later.

Seeing Aunt Han there only strengthened Gu Yining’s assumption. She placed the blankets on the sofa, stepped forward, and thanked her sincerely.

“Aunt Han, thank you. You even went out of your way to switch blankets for me. Otherwise, I definitely would’ve caught a cold.”

Aunt Han, who had been playing with Bai Xia, looked up at the sound of her voice. There was something in her gaze that Gu Yining couldn’t quite decipher—something meaningful, tinged with a hint of playful knowingness.

Feeling a little awkward under that look, Gu Yining rubbed the bridge of her nose, puzzled.

In the end, Aunt Han said nothing. She simply nodded, the corners of her lips lifting into the familiar gentle smile Gu Yining knew so well.

“It’s nothing. You’re awake? Go wash up. I’ve kept your lunch warm—go grab it from the kitchen after you’re done. Don’t let yourself go hungry.”

“You’re really too thoughtful,” Gu Yining said with heartfelt gratitude, smiling as well. “I’ll go wash up first. See you in a bit, Xia Xia.”

“I’ll see you later, Aunt!” Bai Xia replied quickly without even lifting her head, her eyes glued to the instruction booklet that seemed to make her dizzy just looking at it.

This kid.

Seeing how much Bai Xia loved the gift she’d brought her, Gu Yining felt both gratified—and a tiny bit jealous at being so thoroughly ignored.

She decided that after she finished eating, she’d definitely have to give this little one a proper “talking-to.”

With that thought, Gu Yining hummed softly to herself in a good mood and turned toward the bathroom. But just as she turned, her peripheral vision caught sight of a third figure—someone who had been hidden all this time behind Aunt Han and Bai Xia.

It was Bai Qingqiu.

Gu Yining’s steps came to an instinctive halt.

So, Bai Qingqiu had been here all along.

Because of her injured leg, Bai Qingqiu was sitting awkwardly, angled slightly to the side—that was why Gu Yining hadn’t noticed her earlier. The leg secured in a splint was carefully propped up on a low stool beside her.

Gu Yining’s gaze drifted slowly from Bai Qingqiu’s expressionless face down to what she was holding in her hands.

It wasn’t a laptop.

It wasn’t a stack of dense documents.

It was a set of blueprints that matched the Lego pile in front of Bai Xia.

So, the hushed voices she’d heard upstairs earlier hadn’t just been Aunt Han and Bai Xia. They could just as easily have been Bai Qingqiu and Bai Xia. And perhaps Bai Qingqiu had even deliberately lowered her voice, knowing Gu Yining was asleep?

A strange ripple stirred in Gu Yining’s heart.

The air seemed to grow subtly tense.

Standing where she was, Gu Yining pressed her lips together, unsure whether she should say thank you.

Bai Qingqiu finally noticed her gaze and looked up. Her expression didn’t change—she didn’t look pleased, nor did she look displeased. Instead, something flickered briefly in her eyes, something indistinct. Disappointment?

Gu Yining thought she must have imagined it, because when she tried to confirm it, Bai Qingqiu had already looked away, her attention returning to the small figure on the carpet absorbed in her Lego.

Gu Yining shrugged, decided not to dwell on it, and headed for the bathroom to wash up.

By the time Gu Yining finished washing up and quickly ate the meal Aunt Han had saved for her before hurrying back to the living room, Bai Xia was completely fired up.

Just as the doctor had said, this adenovirus was annoying and prone to relapse—but once the fever subsided, it didn’t stop the little one from instantly turning back into her endlessly energetic self.

Seeing Gu Yining return at last, Bai Xia bounced over in small, excited steps and grabbed her wrist.

“Aunt! Come play Legos with me!”

“Alright.”

Gu Yining smiled indulgently, ruffling her soft hair as she let herself be dragged over to the Lego pile. The child’s warm, soft hand wrapped around her wrist, and the earlier resolve to “teach her a lesson” vanished without a trace.

She was just too adorable.

Adults shouldn’t hold grudges against children.

Gu Yining was about to settle in like before, waiting for Bai Xia to hand her pieces to assemble together—but after pulling her over, Bai Xia suddenly let go and turned away.

Gu Yining blinked in surprise, about to ask what was wrong, when she saw the little one marching determinedly on her short legs toward Bai Qingqiu, who was sitting nearby.

“Mommy, come too! Let’s build it together!” Bai Xia announced loudly, pouting when Bai Qingqiu didn’t respond and reaching out to tug at her.

The atmosphere grew delicate once more.

Gu Yining reacted quickly, scooping the child up before she could actually grab Bai Qingqiu. With Bai Qingqiu’s injured leg, it wouldn’t take much for her to lose her balance—if Bai Xia pulled her down, the consequences could be serious.

Thinking that, Gu Yining instinctively glanced at Bai Qingqiu to see how she’d react. But Bai Qingqiu seemed not to have heard at all, her attention still fixed on the blueprint in her hands.

With no other choice, Gu Yining cleared her throat and explained gently to the disgruntled little girl in her arms.

“Xia Xia, Mommy hurt her foot. She can’t sit on the floor.”

At the words, Bai Xia’s little face, poised to protest further, instantly collapsed. Her tiny brows furrowed, her dark eyes rolling as if calculating, and on her childlike face appeared a surprisingly mature, earnest expression of dilemma.

Gu Yining felt the little one in her arms grow quiet and couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly, patiently waiting to see what solution Bai Xia would come up with.

After a moment, Bai Xia’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if a lightbulb had gone off in her little head. Excitedly, she wriggled in Gu Yining’s embrace, pointing one hand at Bai Qingqiu on the sofa and the other at herself and Gu Yining, lifting her chin proudly.

“Then Mommy can sit and watch how we build it!” she said with utmost seriousness. “Aunt and I will do the building! Mommy’s so smart, she’ll definitely understand the blueprints!”

Gu Yining blinked. When the princess issues an order, obedience is the only choice. She stole a glance at Bai Qingqiu on the sofa; she wasn’t reacting—so that counted as tacit approval.

And so, over the next little while, the trio—though not exactly a family—played out a scene that was both subtly delicate and inexplicably harmonious.

The usually aloof Bai Qingqiu, always with a project file or spreadsheet in hand, now sat awkwardly on the sofa with one leg injured, slightly slouched and clumsy. In her hands was the blueprint, and with the same cold, precise tone she used in meetings, she read off a string of part numbers and shapes:

“White, 2×4 slope, six pieces.”

“Light gray, 1×6 rectangle, four pieces.”

Meanwhile, Gu Yining knelt on the carpet, following Bai Qingqiu’s instructions, sifting through the colorful sea of plastic pieces. The castle was massive, requiring hundreds of components, and identical-colored pieces were everywhere.

Aunt Han had only helped sort them by color; now it was up to Gu Yining to pick out the exact shapes—no small task.

And even pieces of the same shape came in different sizes.

Several times, Gu Yining thought she had found the right piece and happily handed it to Bai Xia, only for the little one to press it onto the partially built foundation and discover it was either half a block too large or slightly too small—never fitting.

“No!”

Bai Xia would immediately toss the wrong piece back, pouting and scolding Gu Yining mercilessly.

“Aunt, you got it wrong! Mommy didn’t say that one!”

Gu Yining could only curse internally while resignedly picking up the “returned” piece and plunging it back into the vast “sea” of parts.

What Gu Yining didn’t notice, absorbed as she was, was the faint, barely perceptible smile creeping onto Bai Qingqiu’s lips as she watched.

Though small, Bai Xia’s idea worked surprisingly well. Even if Gu Yining occasionally chose the wrong piece, the efficiency was not bad, and soon the castle’s shapeless foundation gradually took form.

Naturally, Bai Qingqiu had to turn pages of the blueprint. With her injured leg, she had to shift her weight to one side to keep her balance, bracing with her left hand on the sofa, while the blueprint was on her right, accessible to her right hand.

But at some point, the blueprint had ended up a little farther away. To turn the page, she needed to shift her body slightly to the right. She frowned, bracing herself against the sofa to move when a long, slender, elegant hand suddenly reached from below.

It was Gu Yining.

Silently, she flipped the page of the blueprint for Bai Qingqiu and, in one smooth motion, placed it on her lap for easier viewing.

Bai Qingqiu instinctively looked up—and met Gu Yining’s calm, clear gaze.

In that brief moment, Bai Qingqiu saw her own startled reflection mirrored in those eyes.

Gu Yining nodded politely and immediately looked away, returning her attention to the pile of pieces on the carpet.

Bai Xia, dissatisfied with the piece just handed over, shoved it back into Gu Yining’s hands.

“Aunt, you got it wrong again! Silly!”

Gu Yining retorted in mock offense.

“Well, you even put the pieces on crooked! Look at this tower tip—it’s slanted!”

Mother and daughter, each just as childish as the other.

But the atmosphere had undeniably become lighter and livelier.

Bai Qingqiu leaned back on the sofa, watching this ordinary, lively scene unfold before her. For the first time, a strange emotion stirred within her—not happiness, not anger, not sadness—but something she had never experienced before, something warm.

She watched Gu Yining’s cheeks puff up as she bickered with Bai Xia, her words teasing yet devoid of any real annoyance, her gaze filled instead with affection, watching her search through the Lego pile with unwavering focus for the pieces Bai Xia needed.

Time seemed to quietly rewind five years.

The Gu Yining who would sulk over trivial things, yet light up with a single compliment, seemed to have returned.

Bai Qingqiu was so absorbed she didn’t even notice Bai Xia quietly creeping to the edge of the sofa and gently nudging her knee with a small hand.

“Mommy?” Bai Xia tilted her head curiously. “Why aren’t you looking at the blueprint anymore?”

Her daughter’s crisp voice fell like a pebble into still water, finally pulling Bai Qingqiu out of her tangled thoughts.

Awakening as if from a dream, she realized she had lost herself for quite some time. She glanced at Gu Yining on the carpet—focused entirely on the pieces, seemingly oblivious to her momentary lapse—and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Yet inexplicably, a faint, unexplainable twinge of loss crept into her chest.

She pressed her lips together and returned her attention to the open blueprint, trying to mask the sudden flutter of her heartbeat.

“Found it. Next piece: dark gray, 2×6 flat rectangle, twelve pieces.”

And so, under Bai Xia’s supervision and Gu Yining’s occasional complaints, time passed little by little, and the magnificent castle gradually rose. From a bare foundation to walls, towers, drawbridges, and lookout points—the complex structures from the blueprint were faithfully recreated by their combined effort.

Now only one final step remained: crowning the tallest tower with the transparent crystal spire.

Bai Xia held her breath, her bright eyes full of anticipation as she asked Gu Yining,

“Just one more piece! Aunt, where’s the tower tip?”

Stretching her sore back, Gu Yining smiled at her.

“Don’t worry, Aunt will find it for you right away.”

She bent down again, scanning the carpet carefully. Except for the nearly finished castle and a few scattered spare pieces, there was almost nothing left.

The transparent spire—so conspicuous in its design—seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“Strange. I just saw it here a moment ago,” Gu Yining muttered, scratching her head as she crawled over the carpet inch by inch.

Eager to see the castle completed, Bai Xia joined her search, and the two of them, big and small, crawling across the carpet, created a warm and comical scene.

Bai Qingqiu, unable to participate due to her injured leg, remained on the sofa as the sole spectator.

She found herself greedily drinking in every moment, instinctively wanting to imprint this vivid, lively scene firmly in her memory.