Wang Qiqi sat on the terrace, sipping red wine and gazing at the sky. She deeply felt that the Beijing sky was growing increasingly hazy; it was hard enough to see the stars, and she truly wondered if they would eventually be unable to see the moon at all.

After settling Tao Tao down for sleep, Song Yao brought a bottle of red wine out to the terrace. Seeing Song Yao approach, Shi Man quickly found an excuse and retreated to her room.

Song Yao noticed the thinness of Wang Qiqi’s attire and frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing more?” It was already October; October in Beijing was nothing like October back home. In little over a month, the heating would start, which told you everything about the current weather.

Hearing Song Yao’s fussing, Wang Qiqi fished a small blanket out from under her backside. “This is enough for me. Sister, you’re living quite well now, drinking wine and enjoying the view. When will you buy a villa?”

“Next year, or the year after. Once we have a nice villa, we’ll consider immigrating.” Song Yao settled into the lounge chair, nearly shouting with happiness. “Those people today bought so many products! A great start to the day.” Song Yao had expected the people who experienced the treatments to make purchases, but she hadn't anticipated them being so generous. A brief explanation from the beauticians seemed to have prompted them to spend quite lavishly.

Wang Qiqi had already heard Song Yao mention the good sales earlier. She hadn't dared to ask too many questions at dinner since the staff were present, but she felt she had to say something. “Sister, you need to keep an eye on those employees. Don’t let them constantly push products while the clients are getting their treatments. It makes the clients very unhappy.” In her past life, Qiqi eventually preferred staying home to do a mask precisely because it wasn’t the spa treatment itself that bothered her; it was the incessant talking from the moment you lay down until you left—the pressure to buy new products or upgrade, often requiring extra cash to switch from the old. This greatly irritated Qiqi as a customer. Now that she owned a spa, Wang Qiqi didn't want hers to become the same way.

Song Yao felt that if Qiqi insisted on this, how would they run the business? “If we don’t introduce them, how will the clients know about our new products? Those beauticians earn commission through sales.” If they weren't allowed to push products, how would they stay motivated?

“Our base salaries are high, and it’s not like we aren't introducing them at all. We just need to wait until a new product launches or a client specifically asks about something.” Wang Qiqi knew that not only would the beauticians resist this idea, but Song Yao herself couldn't quite grasp it yet. “If someone constantly nags you to buy something, even if the client intended to buy initially, after too long and too many times, they will wait until the current product runs out and switch to another salon. Sister, we are building something beyond a low-end spa. We want clients to feel our products are superior and our service is professional. When they come here for treatments, it should be a genuine place to rest and recharge.”

“Besides, you host that salon gathering once a month, don’t you? You can use that time to tell them what new products you’ve added and let them try samples. Only when they experience it themselves can they truly compare whether they need it, which is far more effective than a hundred people constantly nagging.” Wang Qiqi thought the original purpose of the salon was to discuss family, figure, cosmetics, bags, and clothes. Song Yao could easily weave the product discussion into that. The attendees were specifically chosen—women with good means who were ready to spend generously. How could Song Yao forget such a crucial medium?

Song Yao fell silent, pondering. Qiqi’s logic held water. From the client’s perspective, constantly being pitched items was indeed unwelcome. “I’ll be mindful of that.”

Hearing Song Yao agree, Wang Qiqi said no more. It had been agreed that Song Yao would manage the spa, and she was just an investor waiting for dividends; she shouldn’t be bossing people around.

Wang Qiqi accepted the wine Song Yao poured, took a sip, and then asked, “Is Auntie planning to divorce Uncle, or will they just remain living separately?”

Song Yao downed the wine in her glass, then poured another. Hearing Wang Qiqi ask so bluntly, she managed a wry smile. “I don’t know my mother’s plan. Actually, my father has no intention of divorcing either.”

Alas, Uncle didn't even plan on divorce? Did Auntie’s constant meddling finally push Song Wenbo too far? That wasn't out of the question. One of Wang Qiqi’s key assessments of Wang Damei was that she was overly calculating. Perhaps Song Wenbo hadn't minded before, but now that someone was causing endless trouble, how could Uncle endure it? If Wang Damei really did that, Wang Qiqi felt she was asking for it.

Song Yao didn’t notice Wang Qiqi’s expression, or perhaps there were things she simply couldn't tell Gong Peixing, making her feel suffocated by holding it in. “My father says that at his age, divorcing wouldn't look good. He told my mother he won't divorce, but he asked her to stop controlling him. What can my mother do?” Song Yao acknowledged Wang Damei’s flaws, but her father’s statement left her, as a daughter, feeling helpless. “He even said Wang Rui’s husband isn't much different—'the main flag stands tall while the colored flags flutter.' Oh, speaking of which, Wang Rui is pregnant.” Song Yao knew Wang Qiqi disliked hearing anything about Wang Rui, but she felt obliged to mention it. “She’s due around March or April next year.”

Wang Qiqi was stunned. Calculating the timeline, wasn't Wang Rui’s pregnancy period concurrent with Gao Kai’s wedding? Wang Qiqi truly felt a chill towards Chen Yan. Regardless of her past scheming, from the standpoint of the official wife, Wang Qiqi felt utterly disheartened. “Is Gao Kai’s wife pregnant?”

Song Yao let out a cold laugh. “No. Apparently, she has some health issues—something with her fallopian tubes.” Song Yao didn't know the specifics, but the news was disclosed three months into Wang Rui’s pregnancy when Wang Rui treated Song Ziwen and the others to dinner. According to Song Ziwen’s description, Wang Rui was insufferably smug, acting as if her son would inherit Gao Kai’s empire.

Wang Qiqi was speechless. Though she wasn’t familiar with the condition, it sounded quite serious. For now, Gao Kai could use Chen Yan, and whether she bore children didn’t matter. Once her utility faded, Chen Yan’s fall from grace would be imminent. However, knowing Chen Yan’s temperament, even if she divorced, she would leave with a hefty settlement. As for Wang Rui, Wang Qiqi knew without looking that she must be ecstatic. Even if she bore a son, expecting to inherit Gao Kai’s fortune was a pipe dream. If she had any sense, she wouldn't try to oust Chen Yan from the position of Mrs. Gao. If they divorced, Gao Kai would undoubtedly remarry someone beneficial to his career; his second wife couldn't possibly have health problems. That’s when Wang Rui would truly weep. But based on Wang Qiqi’s understanding of Wang Rui, she was focused on pushing Chen Yan out so she could step up as Mrs. Gao. Wang Qiqi thought Wang Rui was dreaming far too big.

“Will Auntie be staying in Beijing long-term?” Wang Qiqi wouldn't actively seek news about Wang Rui, but as long as Song Yao was around, she’d receive a steady stream of updates. “It’s good that Auntie left our hometown; it completely clears the field for them.” Wang Qiqi didn't know how to judge Song Wenbo; the small town was so limited. By doing this, he put Wang Damei in an impossible position. She wondered how Song Ziwen viewed this—hoping he wasn't foolish enough to support Song Wenbo.

“Yes, Mom says out of sight, out of mind. Since Ziwen and I are married, she’s glad we broke things off with Dad when we did, while Dad felt guilty enough to transfer the shares in the cabinet factory to Ziwen.” Song Yao shuddered at the memory. If they hadn't done it then, her father would never agree to transfer the shares now. “Mom also settled the house and money—a straight fifty-fifty split—and told us not to worry about supporting her anymore.”

The sharp-witted Wang Damei was back. By saying that, she ensured Ziwen or Yao Yao wouldn't funnel money to Song Wenbo, which might end up benefiting someone else. Song Yao must have left some details out, or she wouldn't be so completely accepting of the arrangement. “Doesn’t her daughter claim to be quite successful, having settled abroad?”

Song Yao scoffed. “Whether she’s successful or not, we have no idea. If she were truly successful, why hasn't she flown Mom out to visit in the years she’s been gone?” Airfare might be expensive, but the dollar exchanged for Yuan wasn't that much, and the old lady wouldn't be freeloading; she’d at least help with housework. “In any case, she’s either not doing well or she’s unfilial. But then again, having found such a rich catch as my dad, why wouldn’t she cling to him? Ziwen even said his reputation is being ruined. He plans to relocate the factory in a few years and leave the hometown behind. Let him fuss over it.” Song Yao wholeheartedly agreed with Song Ziwen’s decision. “Oh, right, Ziwen is planning to start a logistics company. What did you decide?”

A logistics company? Wang Qiqi found the idea strange. Why would Song Ziwen have this thought? “Did he mention it to you?” Why didn't this guy bring it up with me? Was he worried I didn't have the funds and felt awkward about excluding me from investing?

Song Yao noticed Wang Qiqi’s slightly displeased expression and quickly explained Song Ziwen’s reasoning for starting the logistics company. Wang Qiqi finally understood: when business got busy, the factory’s own trucks weren't enough, and Song Ziwen felt renting was inefficient, yet maintaining too many vehicles year-round was also impractical. This was his solution.

“You could actually consider starting a courier service. The current courier companies really aren’t that great.” Although it might be a bit late to enter the courier business, good customer service and fast delivery—like SF Express, for instance—meant that even if the price was higher, the service was excellent. SF Express wasn't that massive yet; with sufficient capital, they could easily enter the market. Of course, this was just Qiqi’s suggestion; the final decision rested with Song Ziwen. “I won’t invest this time; I’m broke.” Whether it was a courier company or a logistics company, Wang Qiqi didn’t want to get involved. She would let Song Ziwen and Song Yao handle the venture.