Over breakfast, she glanced over the list of locations her mom had picked. There were eight in total. Not a big number, since they had a driver. But some clearly had low foot traffic or barely any food shops nearby, so those could be crossed off right away.
Qīnglí eliminated two, leaving six.
With that, the two of them had the driver take them around to see each one in person.
By midday, they settled on a spot with excellent foot traffic, right next to a large mall. The rent was sky-high, but Wèi Xǔwēi had money now. She signed a one-year lease on the spot and paid the full year’s rent, nearly emptying her funds. Then she messaged Shào Míngxuān, telling him to transfer more money.
To avoid being cheated on again, Shào Míngxuān still agreed. He even called to ask about the shop size and their preparations before finally wiring over another two million.
Three million in total—for a 150-square-meter restaurant—was more than enough, leaving plenty for ongoing expenses.
Once the location was set, the next step was design and renovation. She couldn’t handle the paperwork side, but she could definitely weigh in on the decoration. The moment they got the design sketches, before her mom even spoke, Qīnglí was chattering nonstop with suggestions. The designer was stunned—being directed by a little kid!
But Wèi Xǔwēi fully backed her daughter. After all, it was Qīnglí who had inspired her to open this place in the first place. Naturally, it had to match her daughter’s taste.
If her girl was happy, she would be too. And Qīnglí did have a good eye—she’d studied art since she was little, still played the cello to this day, and had far more discipline than her mother.
Since the client was the one paying, the designer had no choice but to follow along, making adjustments according to the little girl’s ideas.
Within a week, the final design was settled, and construction could begin.
Qīnglí didn’t involve herself anymore—she was content being a little freeloader. Outside of school, all she did was eat, sleep, and secretly order gadgets online to tinker with in her spare time.
Every Saturday night, the Shào family had a regular dinner gathering. Thanks to Qīnglí’s jokes and antics, the evenings usually passed peacefully—aside from Shào’s parents continuing to pressure for a second child.
Peaceful, at least, for Wèi Xǔwēi and Qīnglí.
For Sū Qiū, it was anything but peaceful.
Since her rebirth, things had gone smoothly at first. With all the confessions Shào Míngxuān had poured out to her in their past life, she knew many of his secrets. With just a little probing, she could sense his feelings and even draw him closer.
But her comfort lasted only two days before Shào Míngxuān suddenly pulled away again.
She didn’t know what had happened. After their riverside walk, she’d waited two days, then purposely showed up near his office to invite him out to lunch. That’s when she noticed something was off.
Sū Qiū realized she couldn’t rush things. She still wasn’t divorced yet, and she needed to carefully plan how to get the best outcome from it.
But if Shào Míngxuān kept acting distant, she might actually be relieved. What she feared was him cooling down to the point of losing interest altogether.
She had already lived through one failed marriage. Facing Shào Míngxuān now, she was terrified of repeating the same mistake. That fear only deepened her desire to figure out his true feelings before divorcing.
But the more she pushed, the more nothing happened. She deliberately ignored him for a few days, but there was no reaction. The posts she put on her social feed—he’d just “like” them without comment. That made her increasingly anxious.
If… if Shào Míngxuān wasn’t willing to marry her, then what was the point of divorcing?
She was used to living like a pampered young mistress. If she divorced, even with a settlement from Gù Jūnyì, her life wouldn’t be anywhere near this comfortable. She had a son, and the Gù family’s inheritance would eventually be his. In her past life, she’d never even considered divorce. This time, the only reason she had was Shào Míngxuān.
After much thought, Sū Qiū decided to test him again.
She knew about the Shào family’s Saturday night dinners. So she purposely picked Saturday morning to call him:
“Senior, sorry to bother you. My little Xuān Xuān’s been begging to go to the amusement park, but my friend who was supposed to come with us canceled. Just the two of us wouldn’t be as fun. Do you think Wèi Xǔwēi and little Lí might be free? Maybe we could all go together? The kids haven’t even officially met yet.”
Her soft, delicate voice shook Shào Míngxuān’s composure. But he only shook his head:
“Wèi Xǔwēi’s been really busy these days. She doesn’t have time.”
Sū Qiū laughed lightly:
“Then why don’t you come, Senior? Bring Lí along. I even prepared a gift for her—she’s sure to love it.”
Shào Míngxuān hesitated, not answering right away.
On the other end of the line, Sū Qiū sighed with disappointment:
“Senior, are you too busy? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked… I guess I’m just a stay-at-home mom now. I didn’t realize how busy you’d be.”
“Of course not!” Shào Míngxuān immediately blurted out. He couldn’t bear to reject her. Not knowing what else to say, he quickly added: “I was just thinking about what gift to bring for Xuān Xuān.”
Sū Qiū chuckled softly:
“No need for a gift. Just having you two play with him would be the best gift. His dad rarely spends time with him.”
Her words hit Shào Míngxuān right in the heart, and he felt a surge of comfort. Still, he insisted on bringing a present.
He knocked on his daughter’s door, told her about the amusement park plan, then went into his walk-in closet to pick something out.
Meanwhile, Qīnglí watched his back as he left, a strange smile tugging at her lips.
Shào Míngxuān wasn’t exactly a workaholic, but he would never suddenly suggest taking her to an amusement park. At least not in the original timeline—by the time the “real” girl turned ten, it had never happened once.
And the only woman who could make his eyes sparkle like that was Sū Qiū. Now she’d gotten bold enough to bring her out in the open?
Qīnglí thought it over, then went back to her room and hung the sachet she had made around her neck.