Transmigration; A Mother's Redemption and a perfect Wife.-Chapter 358; Reading scripts

"She’s competent," Tang Fei said, her voice carefully neutral. "She’ll do well for certain promotional tracks."

Huo Wu, sensing the directive, made a note. Singer 11: Technically skilled. Commercial potential.

On the screen for Hall 1, a new actor took the stage. A young man, his performance was broad and theatrical, full of exaggerated gestures and a booming voice. It was the kind of acting meant for the back row of a large theater, not the intimate nuance of a camera lens.

Tang Fei watched, her head tilting. "He’s... loud," she murmured, a faint crease appearing between her brows. It was a simple, almost childish critique, but it was the first genuine spark of her professional opinion she’d offered since Huo Ting Cheng’s intervention.

Huo Ting Cheng, still standing behind her, felt the slight shift. A flicker of her true self, like a fish briefly breaking the surface of a still pond. He applied a subtle pressure to her shoulder. "Passion can often be mistaken for volume," he commented, his tone dismissive. "Lack of control."

The words were a subtle correction, a guidepost nudging her perception back to the safe, the controlled, the manageable.

Tang Fei fell silent again. The spark was extinguished.

Just then, the feed for Hall 3 returned. The dancers had changed. A soloist now occupied the stage, a young man moving to a piece of stark, modern classical music.

His movements were not the frantic, chain-breaking struggle of the previous group, but something more profound: a slow, agonizingly beautiful display of grief. Every extension of his arm, every arch of his back, spoke of a deep, quiet sorrow. It was the most captivating thing they had seen all day.

Tang Fei’s breath suddenly hitched. She leaned forward unconsciously, her entire being drawn into the performance. This was it. This was the raw, unfiltered talent she had been searching for. Her fingers curled into the carpet.

Huo Ting Cheng saw it immediately. This was the exact kind of deep, emotional resonance he wanted to shield her from. It was too real, too connected to the pain he was so carefully medicating and manipulating out of her existence.

Before she could speak, before Huo Wu could jot down a note, Huo Ting Cheng’s voice, calm and decisive, cut through the moment.

"Huo Wu, the luncheon menu for tomorrow. I need to review it with the chef. Now."

The command was so abrupt, so utterly mundane and out of place, that it was like throwing a bucket of ice water over the room. Huo Wu’s head snapped up from his tablet, his professional composure faltering for a split second. "Sir? The... the menu?"

"Now," Huo Ting Cheng repeated, his gaze leaving Tang Fei to pin Huo Wu in place.

The spell was broken. The connection Tang Fei felt to the dancer shattered. She blinked, the haunting image on the screen suddenly seeming distant and unimportant compared to the immediate, domestic demand of a luncheon menu.

"Yes, President Huo." Huo Wu rose swiftly, his notebook forgotten on the floor. He gave Tang Fei a brief, almost apologetic glance before hurrying out to arrange the impromptu meeting.

On the screen, the dancer finished his piece, holding a final, heartbreaking pose in utter silence. There was no one left in the room to appreciate it.

Huo Ting Cheng finally removed his hand from Tang Fei’s shoulder and walked back to his chair; the matter was settled. He had successfully redirected the course of the ship, steering it away from the dangerous, emotional waters.

Tang Fei remained on the floor, staring at the now-frozen image of the dancer on the screen. A vague sense of loss nagged at her, a feeling that something beautiful had just been taken away before she could fully grasp it. But the reason was so reasonable, so practical. The menu was important. Guests were coming.

She shook her head slightly, as if to clear the lingering melancholy. She looked over at Huo Ting Cheng, who was now calmly reviewing something on his tablet, the very picture of a responsible host and devoted husband.

"What... what kind of menu is it?" she asked, her voice small, grasping for the new, safe topic he had provided.

Huo Ting Cheng looked up, a satisfied, gentle smile gracing his lips. "Nothing for you to worry about, Fei Fei. I’ll handle it. You just relax." 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

And so, she did. She leaned back against the sofa, the five silent screens of aspiring stars becoming nothing more than a shifting light show, their dreams and struggles now completely muted. The hunter had been disarmed, her quarry left to run free, while she sat in her gilded room, learning to be content with the view from her cage. The most terrifying part was that she was starting to believe the bars were there for her own comfort.

Reading Between the Lines

Tang Fei sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, her laptop balanced on her knees.

The chaos of the day’s final auditions continued around her, actors running lines, directors conferring in hushed tones, assistants shuttling scripts back and forth.

She was stretching her shoulders, rolling out the tension from eight hours of back-to-back evaluations, when Huo Wu approached.

"Missus," he said respectfully, tablet in hand. "I forgot to tell you that there are some scripts sent to your email for approval. You can go through them and see if they are worthy of the investment. These are the scripts some directors chose from the contestants. About terms, they can talk later."

Tang Fei looked up, her interest piqued. "Ooohhh..." She hummed softly, immediately reaching for her laptop and opening her email.

Huo Wu moved away to brief Huo Ting Cheng on what he’d just instructed him to do, then settled down beside Tang Fei on the carpet to check things out himself assisting her.

She scrolled through the downloads, more than ten PDF files were waiting in her inbox. The first two had generic titles that didn’t immediately grab her attention. But the third one...