As a Scummy Omega, I Ran Away with the Baby - Chapter 1

The rainy season in G City was stifling, the whole place feeling like one giant steaming oven. Bai Qingqiu frowned, a fine sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. Her assistant, quick on the uptake, hurried ahead to push open the door for her.

She really couldn’t understand why Gu Yining liked G City so much—enough to insist on buying a house here.

The moment she stepped inside, a refreshing wave of cool air swept over her. Bai Qingqiu’s tense brows finally eased as she accepted the towel handed to her by Gu Yining, who had come bouncing up with a bright smile.

“You’re back!” The girl leaned eagerly over the cabinet, craning her neck toward her.

Gu Yining was radiant. Even dressed only in a simple home dress, she looked fresh and ethereal. The cream-colored fabric made her already fair skin glow with a soft pink undertone. A few strands of fine black hair stuck up from her

running about, making her look all the more endearing. Bai Qingqiu’s eyes softened, and she couldn’t resist ruffling her hair mischievously.

“Mm.”

“Hey! You’ve made my hair all frizzy.”

Gu Yining pouted in mock indignation, her doe-like eyes shimmering wetly as she glanced up at her. Though it sounded like a complaint, the lingering lilt of her voice carried more of a spoiled, coquettish plea than true displeasure.

Bai Qingqiu had never met an Alpha quite this delicate.

Still, she was happy to indulge her.

“Didn’t you say you could do whatever feels comfortable at home?”

After wiping her hands clean, Bai Qingqiu slipped into her slippers, took Gu Yining by the hand, and led her toward the sofa. All the while, Gu Yining chattered incessantly at her side.

Where she found so many things to talk about, Bai Qingqiu had no idea. She simply treated it as background noise, occasionally humming in acknowledgment, feigning attentiveness.

It didn’t seem to matter to Gu Yining whether she was truly listening or not. Once they sat down, she stopped talking, slid her arms around Bai Qingqiu’s waist, and pressed close from behind.

Her body was warm, her hair smelled faintly sweet as it brushed against Bai Qingqiu’s neck. The steady thump of her heartbeat carried through her back, oddly soothing. Bai Qingqiu froze for a moment but didn’t push her away, letting

Gu Yining cling to her like a koala.

Gu Yining was the least Alpha-like Alpha she had ever met. Aside from her love for physical closeness, nothing about her—neither her appearance nor her temperament—fit the archetype. She was, in fact, more Omega than Bai Qingqiu, who was an Omega herself.

That was precisely why Bai Qingqiu had chosen her.

She needed an Alpha who was discreet, clean, and easy to handle—someone who could help her through her annual heat without complications. And Gu Yining, an Alpha softer than most Omegas, was the perfect fit.

Bai Qingqiu lowered her gaze and turned her head slightly to meet her eyes. A smile curved her lips, though it never reached her eyes. Gu Yining, oblivious, leaned closer, their foreheads touching, her arms tightening around Bai Qingqiu’s waist.

Her lashes brushed lightly against Bai Qingqiu’s cheek with every blink, making her heart itch. She pulled back just a little, concealing the impulse.

She told herself it was nothing more than an Omega’s natural physiological response to her Alpha.

Everyone educated in modern biology knew: Omegas were born to develop a chemical dependency on the Alpha who marked them—an instinctive attachment that blurred into love.

Even she wasn’t immune.

“Why are you so clingy today?” Bai Qingqiu asked, taking a sip of water, forcing a casual change of topic.

“Because I missed you.”

Gu Yining said it boldly, but when Bai Qingqiu tried to meet her gaze, she looked away, eyes flickering with a guilty spark that betrayed some hidden thought.

Bai Qingqiu instinctively recalled the date. The 10th. Yining’s susceptibility period should still be two days away.

Just like Omegas had heats, Alphas also had susceptibility periods, once a year—only theirs tended to be more extreme. During those days, they became sensitive, fragile, and hopelessly clingy. Without their mate’s presence, they would whimper and ache for closeness, desperate to press themselves skin-to-skin.

Honestly, Bai Qingqiu sometimes thought Gu Yining lived in a perpetual susceptibility period. Every few minutes she would ask, Do you love me? And Bai Qingqiu—who could never bring herself to say anything so saccharine—could only evade the question.

Because the truth was, she did not love Gu Yining.

A quiet sigh slipped past her lips as she nodded anyway.

There was always a trace of guilt when it came to Gu Yining. As long as her requests didn’t cross Bai Qingqiu’s boundaries, she tried her best to fulfill them.

Just like now.

________________________________________

The even sound of breathing told her Gu Yining had fallen asleep. Beads of sweat still clung to her face, dampening strands of hair against her cheeks. Bai Qingqiu thought back to what had just happened, her heartbeat—only just steadied—quickening all over again.

“Yining, go wash up before sleeping.”

Her voice was steady, tone impeccably proper.

It didn’t take much volume to rouse Gu Yining. Actors were light sleepers.

She blinked awake but, so close to her susceptibility period, was sticky with drowsy stubbornness, showing no intention of getting up.

Bai Qingqiu didn’t press, simply waited patiently.

A while later, Gu Yining finally stirred.

“But I’m so sleepy…” she murmured, curling tighter into the quilt, a plump white cocoon of reluctance.

Bai Qingqiu said nothing, only reached out to pat her gently.

Gu Yining cracked open her eyes, still glistening with tears of fatigue. She even yawned mid-protest, lids drooping with exhaustion. Her slender, pale arm slipped from the quilt, faint green veins showing beneath the translucent skin.

Bai Qingqiu’s lashes trembled as she pressed her lips together, her tone deepening, firm and brooking no refusal—concealing her own uneven breathing.

“Up. You know you should.”

“…Okay.”

Grudgingly, Gu Yining shuffled out from under the covers. But the moment she did, the cloying, heady scent of roses burst into the air. Bai Qingqiu inhaled it before she could stop herself, her body jolting with heat as dormant instincts surged awake.

“Gu Yining!”

Her voice sharpened in alarm.

The culprit slipped into her slippers and bolted for the bathroom.

________________________________________

When she returned, hair damp and smelling faintly of mint shampoo, Bai Qingqiu was already dressed, sitting rigidly on the bed with her laptop open, typing with sharp, clipped keystrokes.

Tomorrow’s press conference still had unresolved issues, and irritation pricked at her. She wanted nothing more than to call the driver right now and head straight back to the company.

“What’s wrong?”

The mattress dipped beside her as Gu Yining sat down, her still-wet body leaning close.

The sudden interruption grated against her already fraying patience. With Yining hovering, there was no way she could focus on work. Her tone hardened as she shut the laptop.

“Nothing. Just work. If you’re tired, go to sleep. I’m going back to the office.”

Without waiting for a response, she picked up her computer and strode out, leaving Gu Yining alone on the bed.

The solid wood door slammed shut with a heavy thud, the echo rattling through the empty room—and striking straight into Gu Yining’s chest.

She had been about to remind Bai Qingqiu to take a coat against the night chill, but the words never left her lips. She stared at the empty space for a long while, then quietly lay back down, curling into the quilt with her eyes closed.