Transmigration; A Mother's Redemption and a perfect Wife.-Chapter 454; Honeymoon Phase 5 (h)

Coachable, she wrote carefully in her notes. Needs confidence work.

When the director called cut, Twilight approached hesitantly, then reminded herself why she was here. She offered her observations, quietly, respectfully, but clearly. The director, who’d initially looked surprised to see someone so young on his set, listened and nodded thoughtfully.

The modeling division occupied the fifth floor, and the energy there was entirely different, fast-paced, visually intense, all sharp angles and carefully curated aesthetics. Some of their new models were already in front of cameras, working through test shoots for upcoming campaigns. Twilight observed from the sidelines as a young woman moved through poses, her movements initially stiff before gradually finding fluidity.

"She’s nervous," the photographer muttered to his assistant.

Twilight spoke up, her voice smaller than she intended but steady. "She’s learning. Maybe give her time to warm up?"

The photographer glanced at her, this teenager with the serious expression and the official company lanyard, and shrugged. "Sure, kid. Let’s try a few more."

Three shoots later, the same model was transformed, confident, expressive, commanding the lens rather than fearing it. The photographer caught Twilight’s eye and gave her an approving nod.

She tried not to beam too obviously.

In the dance studio downstairs, others were still in training mode, their talent raw but promising. Twilight watched through the observation window as an instructor put a group through rigorous choreography. Sweat, determination, occasional frustration. But also growth, visible even within a single session. She made notes about who showed particular dedication, who might need extra encouragement.

It was the same across every sector she visited that day: acting, modeling, dance, and vocal training. Some artists were already working, proving themselves in real productions. Others were still developing, honing skills under the guidance of coaches and mentors. Each needed different things: opportunity, refinement, encouragement, constructive criticism.

Twilight absorbed it all like a sponge, understanding that this wasn’t just about today. This was her education, her preparation for the future Tang Fei envisioned for her.

By late afternoon, her notebook was filled with careful observations, sector by sector, artist by artist. Her hand ached from writing, and her feet hurt from walking the building’s multiple floors, but she felt accomplished. She knew Tang Fei would want detailed reports upon her return—who was ready for bigger projects, who needed more time, and where resources should be allocated.

She stood at the window of the small office Tang Fei had assigned her, watching the sun begin its descent and transform the building’s glass facade into molten gold. Somewhere below, dozens of careers were taking shape, dreams being pursued with varying degrees of success.

The responsibility was significant, maybe too significant for a fourteen-year-old, some might say. But Twilight discovered she didn’t mind the weight of it at all, her fate was changing. This was the work that mattered, not just discovering talent, but nurturing it, positioning it, giving it the foundation to truly flourish.

Mrs. Huo had built something remarkable here. And in Tang Fei’s absence, Twilight would ensure it continued running smoothly, even if she had to stand on her tiptoes to be taken seriously while doing it.

She wasn’t going to let her momma down.

Meanwhile, at the Resort

Tang Fei stirred awake slowly, consciousness returning like wading through thick honey or swimming up from the bottom of a very deep pool. The room around her glowed with an ethereal, liquid quality, soft blue-green light filtering through the massive floor-to-ceiling aquarium walls that enclosed their underwater VIP suite. Schools of tropical fish drifted past in languid formations, their scales catching and scattering the diffused sunlight that somehow reached even these depths.

She blinked slowly, disoriented by the dreamlike atmosphere. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, only that the light was strange, beautiful, moving in ways light shouldn’t move. Then memory returned in gentle waves: the honeymoon, the exclusive resort, the extravagant underwater accommodations that had made her eyes wander.

A sea turtle glided past the glass with ancient, unhurried grace, and Tang Fei watched it for a long moment, still half-caught between sleep and waking. The suite was silent except for the muffled, distant sound of water, omnipresent, soothing, like being cradled in the ocean’s palm.

She turned her head carefully, squinting at the sleek modern clock on the nightstand. The numbers glowed softly in the aquatic dimness, and she realized with a start just how late it actually was.

10:00 AM.

A groan escaped her lips, low and pitiful. Her entire body felt like she’d been hit by a truck, or more accurately, thoroughly and systematically ravaged by her insatiable husband. Every muscle ached with that deep, bone-tired soreness that came from prolonged physical exertion.

But especially her lower back and between her legs, where a dull, persistent burning soreness throbbed with each slight movement.

She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to even try. Even breathing felt like too much effort, each inhale making her aware of muscles she’d forgotten she had.

Then she felt it, the gentle, unfamiliar weight around her left ankle, the soft musical jingle as she shifted her leg experimentally under the sheets.

The anklet.

Tang Fei’s eyes flew open fully, sleep vanishing entirely as awareness returned. She lifted her leg from beneath the sheets, twisting to examine the delicate gold chain more closely in the underwater light.

Memories of the previous night flooded back with vivid, overwhelming clarity, making her cheeks burn hot enough that she could feel the heat radiating from her skin. The way he’d looked at her, predatory and possessive. The musical sound it made with every movement. How he’d become almost feral, losing that iron control he always maintained...

She reached down urgently, her fingers searching along the smooth metal for a clasp to remove it. Her fingers explored desperately, probing every link, every charm, looking for the mechanism that would free her. But there was nothing, no hinge, no obvious opening, no tiny lever or catch. Just smooth, unbroken links that seemed to flow seamlessly into one another.

"Looking for something?"

Tang Fei’s head snapped up so fast her neck protested. Huo Ting Cheng was propped on one elbow beside her, watching her fumbling attempts with undisguised amusement. His dark blue eyes glinted with mischief, and there was a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth that made her want to wipe it off his face.

"Take it off," she demanded, her voice still hoarse from sleep, and, her traitorous memory supplied, from screaming his name repeatedly the night before.

"Why would I do that?" He reached out with deliberate slowness, trailing a finger along her calf to the anklet, making the charms jingle softly in a sound that immediately triggered visceral memories. "It looks beautiful on you."

"Huo Ting Cheng," she said firmly, sitting up despite the vehement protest from her sore muscles. Every movement sent sharp reminders through her body. "Remove it. Now. Last night you were like... like some kind of animal with this thing. I don’t want it on my leg."

His smirk widened, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "I’m afraid that’s not possible."

"What do you mean, not possible?" Her voice rose slightly, suspicion creeping in. "Just unlock it!"

"It’s made of a special material," he explained with infuriating casualness, settling back against his pillow with the relaxed posture of someone who held all the cards. "Titanium alloy core with a proprietary locking mechanism. You can’t break it, not without industrial equipment, anyway. And there’s no key."

Tang Fei stared at him, certain she’d misheard. "What?"

"Once it’s locked, it stays locked," he continued, clearly enjoying her growing outrage far too much. His tone was conversational, as if discussing the weather. "It’s designed to be permanent. Well, unless you want to visit a jeweler with specialized cutting tools, but that seems like a lot of trouble. And expensive. Those tools would probably damage it beyond repair."

"You... you put a permanent anklet on me without asking?!" Her voice had climbed to nearly a shriek.

"You were a bit preoccupied at the time," he pointed out, his tone infuriatingly teasing. "And you didn’t exactly complain when I was putting it on. In fact, if I recall correctly, you were quite... distracted."

Before Tang Fei could formulate a sufficiently angry response, and she had several forming in her mind, a polite knock sounded at the door, professional and unobtrusive.