Transmigration; A Mother's Redemption and a perfect Wife.-Chapter 470; Honeymoon Phase 6

"You’re still royalty though," Minghao said matter-of-factly. "Just different royalty. Huo family royalty. Which honestly might be more impressive in this city than actual royal titles."

"Is your family really that influential?" Qing Qing asked, curious rather than intimidated.

"Momma should be owning half of the entertainment industry very soon," Minghao said with casual pride. "Daddy owns... I don’t actually know what all he owns. A lot of things. Buildings. Companies. That whole tech sector thing he’s always in meetings about."

"And let’s not forget the military connections," Qin Xinyu added. "Your brothers’ training facility alone is....."

"Classified," Minghao interrupted quickly, though she was grinning. "Very classified. We definitely don’t know anything about that."

"Right. Nothing at all," Qin Xinyu agreed with exaggerated innocence.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "You two are terrible at keeping secrets."

"We’re excellent at keeping secrets," Minghao protested. "We just choose not to keep them from each other. There’s a difference."

"Philosophical distinction," Qin Xinyu nodded sagely.

"You’re both ridiculous," Twilight said, but she was smiling. This was nice, sitting here like she belonged, like she was just another young person in the family rather than the trained bodyguard, the former assassin, the girl who knew fifty ways to kill someone but had never sat in a proper classroom.

"Speaking of ridiculous," Minghao said, suddenly sitting up straighter, "did you guys see the announcement about the school festival next month? They’re doing a talent show and everything."

"Are you planning to enter?" Qing Qing asked.

"Me? No way. Public performance is not my thing." Minghao shuddered dramatically. "I’ll leave that to the people who actually enjoy being stared at. But I heard the drama club is doing a whole production. And the music students are putting together some kind of orchestra thing."

"You should enter, Qing Qing," Twilight suggested. "Didn’t you mention you used to play piano?"

Qing Qing’s expression clouded slightly. "I did. But I haven’t played in months, and I don’t know if..."

"The estate has three pianos," Minghao said immediately. "You can practice whenever you want. And we’ll all come to your performance and cheer really loudly and embarrass you appropriately."

"That’s... actually really sweet," Qing Qing said, laughing despite herself. "In a weird, threatening way."

"It’s how we show love," Minghao explained seriously. "Aggressive support."

"Your family is very strange," Qing Qing observed.

"Your family now too," Minghao reminded her. "So you’re stuck with the strangeness."

Qing Qing smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes and transformed her whole face. "I think I’m okay with that."

"Good," Twilight said, reaching for the last cookie and breaking it into four pieces to share. "Because you’re not getting rid of us now. We’re extremely persistent."

The conversation drifted on, easy and meandering. Twilight listened more than she contributed, comfortable in her role as observer even here, in these safe moments. She’d never had a normal childhood, had gone from being a four-year-old orphan to Tang Fei’s protégé, learning skills that had nothing to do with spelling tests or mathematics homework. School had never been an option for someone like her.

But this, sitting with people who cared about her, listening to their ordinary concerns, sharing cookies and laughter, this was its own kind of education. One she was grateful for, even if she’d never fully understand what it was like to worry about teachers’ coffee mugs or weird vests.

"Okay," Minghao finally said, stretching dramatically, "we should probably start on homework before dinner. Xinyu, do you understand the mathematics assignment? Because I definitely don’t."

"You definitely do," he corrected. "You just don’t want to do it."

"Details," Minghao waved her hand dismissively. "Are you helping or not?"

"I’ll help," he sighed. "But you’re actually doing the work...."

"Obviously," Minghao said, though her tone suggested that had absolutely been the plan.

They began gathering their things, the comfortable chaos of routine. Qing Qing helped Nanny Yun clear the dishes despite protests that she didn’t need to. Twilight checked her phone for messages from the Entertainment City, already mentally shifting into work mode, that was her real responsibility, managing the company Tang Fei had entrusted to her.

As the children dispersed to their various activities, Minghao and Qin Xinyu heading to the study room with their backpacks, Qing Qing helping Nanny Yun despite gentle protests, Twilight scrolling through her phone with practiced efficiency, the comfortable rhythm of the household settled around them like a well-worn blanket.

Twilight’s phone buzzed insistently in her hand. She glanced at the screen and her expression shifted subtly, the easy relaxation of moments before replaced by focused attention. Entertainment City. Director Chen calling.

"I need to take this," she said, excusing herself from the dining room. She moved toward the study on the far side of the estate, her steps quickening as she answered. "Director Chen."

"Young Mistress Twilight." Director Chen’s voice came through crisp and professional, but there was an undercurrent of excitement that made Twilight’s pulse quicken. "The auditions today yielded excellent results. We’ve identified seven candidates who show real promise, five for the main cast, two for supporting roles. The footage has been compiled and is ready for your review."

Twilight entered the study and closed the door behind her, the heavy wood muffling the sounds of the household. She settled into the leather chair behind the massive desk, pulling out her tablet and connecting to the secure server. "Send me everything. I want to see the raw footage, not just the highlights."

"Already transmitted. You should have access now."

The tablet screen flickered to life, displaying thumbnail images of the day’s auditions. Twilight’s eyes scanned them with the analytical precision Tang Fei had trained into her. Not just looking at faces or obvious talent, but reading body language, assessing presence, evaluating that intangible quality that separated good actors from truly compelling ones.

"The first candidate, Liu Jing," Director Chen’s voice continued through the speaker, "twenty-three years old, trained at the Beijing Film Academy. Her audition for the lead role was... remarkable. She brought emotional depth we haven’t seen in the other candidates. Watch the clip at timestamp 14:30."

Twilight navigated to the footage. On screen, a young woman with striking features stood in the audition room, script in hand but barely glancing at it. As she began her monologue, something shifted in her expression, a transformation so complete it was almost unsettling. The character’s pain, her determination, her hidden vulnerability, all of it played across Liu Jing’s face with such authenticity that Twilight found herself leaning forward.

"She’s good," Twilight murmured, making notes on her tablet. "Very good. Background check?"

"Clean. No scandals, no problematic associations. She’s been working in theater for the past two years, mostly classical productions. This would be her screen debut."

"Theater background explains the presence," Twilight noted. "She commands attention without trying. What about the others?"

They went through the remaining candidates methodically. A young man with martial arts training who’d nailed the action sequences. A character actor with comedic timing that had made even the jaded casting team laugh. Each one representing a different piece of the puzzle Tang Fei would need to assemble her production.

As Twilight reviewed the footage, her mind was already working through logistics. Contracts to be negotiated. Training schedules to coordinate. Chemistry tests between potential co-stars. The Entertainment City wasn’t just about finding talent, it was about building something sustainable, something that would last beyond whatever project Tang Fei had in mind.

"Schedule callbacks for Liu Jing and the martial artist, what was his name?"

"Zhang Wei."

"Zhang Wei. I want to see them work together. If the chemistry is there, they could be our leads. The others can be brought in for supporting roles, but these two are the priority."

"Understood. When would you like the callbacks scheduled?"

Twilight glanced at her calendar, mentally juggling the various responsibilities Tang Fei had delegated to her. "Day after tomorrow probably. Morning session. And Director Chen? Make sure the scripts they receive for the callbacks are different from today’s material. I want to see how they adapt to new content with minimal preparation."

"Testing their flexibility. Smart."

"Tang Fei taught me that true talent isn’t just about delivering memorized lines perfectly," Twilight said, unconsciously echoing lessons learned over years of training. "It’s about adaptation, about bringing something authentic even when circumstances change." And without this, he could she have camouflaged herself into normal life of the city without people noticing she was an assassin?