Transmigration; A Mother's Redemption and a perfect Wife.-Chapter 478; Honeymoon

Bring it yourself.

I don’t want strangers near the villa."

"Of course, Master."

Huo Ting Cheng hesitated, then added, "And Huo Qi?

Make sure the children are settled.

Check in with Twilight, confirm the security detail around the school is adequate, and have Nanny Yun send me a message about how they’re doing."

"Already done, sir.

Miss Minghao and young master Qin Xinyu were dropped at school without incident.

Miss Qing Qing is with Nanny Yun doing her physical therapy.

All security protocols are in place."

"Good." Huo Ting Cheng relaxed slightly.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure, Master.

I’ll be there shortly with breakfast."

Huo Ting Cheng ended the call and returned to the bedroom.

Tang Fei was exactly where he’d left her, leaning back against the pillows, her eyes half-closed, looking beautifully disheveled in his shirt.

"Breakfast is coming," he announced.

"Thirty minutes."

"Mmm," she hummed, not opening her eyes.

"That’s too long.

I might die of starvation before then."

"So dramatic," he teased, climbing back into bed beside her.

He pulled her against his side, and she immediately curled into him, her head on his shoulder.

"Your fault," she mumbled against his chest.

"You wore me out."

His hand stroked her hair gently.

"I know.

I’m sorry."

"No, you’re not," she countered, but there was affection in her voice.

"No," he admitted with a quiet laugh.

"I’m not.

But I am sorry you’re so sore."

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the waves, the morning birds, the peaceful sounds of the villa waking up around them.

Exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the doorbell chimed—a soft, melodic sound that echoed through the villa.

"That’s fast," Tang Fei observed.

"I told Huo Qi to bring it personally.

He’s efficient." Huo Ting Cheng extricated himself from her embrace and stood.

"I should put on actual clothes."

He walked to the closet and selected a pair of casual cotton beach shorts—navy blue, simple, comfortable.

He pulled them on, leaving his chest bare, and headed downstairs.

Tang Fei watched him go, admiring the view—the broad shoulders, the strong back, the way the shorts hung low on his hips.

Even exhausted and sore, she could appreciate the aesthetics.

Downstairs, Huo Ting Cheng opened the front door to find Huo Qi standing there with a large covered tray.

The aroma of fresh food wafted from it—savory and enticing.

"Master," Huo Qi greeted with a respectful nod, carefully not looking at Huo Ting Cheng’s state of undress or the visible marks on his neck and shoulders.

"Breakfast, as requested.

The chef prepared everything fresh twenty minutes ago."

Huo Ting Cheng took the tray.

It was heavy, laden with dishes, but he handled it easily.

"Thank you.

This looks perfect."

"Is there anything else you need, sir?" Huo Qi asked.

"I can arrange activities if you’d like—yacht excursion, private beach setup, spa services, chef for dinner..."

Huo Ting Cheng considered for a moment, then shook his head.

"No arrangements.

We’ll see how the day unfolds.

I’ll contact you if we need anything."

Huo Qi nodded, understanding.

This was meant to be private, intimate time.

No schedules, no obligations.

"Of course.

I’ll be on standby.

Enjoy your day, Master."

"Keep me updated about the children."

"Absolutely."

Huo Ting Cheng closed the door and carried the tray back upstairs.

The aroma seemed to intensify as he climbed, and he heard Tang Fei’s stomach growl even from the hallway.

He entered the bedroom to find her sitting up more alertly, her nose lifted slightly like she was following the scent.

"That smells amazing," she said, her eyes brightening.

"It should.

I had it brought from the best restaurant on the coast." He set the tray on the dresser and looked around.

"We need a proper surface..."

He spotted a bed tray table tucked in the corner of the room—probably left by the staff who had prepared the villa.

He retrieved it, adjusted its legs, and positioned it carefully over Tang Fei’s lap.

Then he transferred the food from the large tray to the bed table, removing covers to reveal an impressive spread: steaming congee with various toppings, delicate steamed buns, soft scrambled eggs, fresh sliced fruit arranged artfully, small dishes of pickled vegetables, and a pot of fragrant jasmine tea with two cups.

"This is too much food," Tang Fei observed, though she was already reaching for a steamed bun.

"You need to eat," he replied, pouring tea for them both.

"You worked very hard last night."

She choked slightly on her bite of bun, her cheeks flushing.

"Huo Ting Cheng!"

He smiled innocently.

"What?

It’s true."

Before they could eat properly, he disappeared into the bathroom.

She heard water running, and he emerged with a small face towel—damp and warm.

"Here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

"Let me."

He gently wiped her face with the warm towel, cleaning away the remnants of sleep, then carefully cleaned her hands, one finger at a time, with a thoroughness that was both practical and oddly intimate.

"There," he said, satisfied.

"Now you can eat properly."

Tang Fei felt something warm and complicated bloom in her chest again.

This care, this attention to small details—it was almost more intimate than what they’d done in the darkness.

They ate together in comfortable silence, Huo Ting Cheng occasionally reaching over to place choice morsels on her plate, making sure she ate enough.

The food was excellent—clearly prepared by skilled hands.

As she ate, Tang Fei found herself thinking about the previous night.

The intensity of it, the way he’d claimed her so thoroughly.

She’d been wanting to be intimate with Huo Ting Cheng for a while now, had fantasized about it, even.

But she hadn’t expected him to be so... feral.

So intense.

So overwhelming.

His manhood had been impressive—thick, veined, larger than she’d anticipated.

It had given her both pleasure and pain in equal measure, stretching her, filling her so completely that there had been moments she’d thought she couldn’t take any more.

And yet she had.

Her body had accepted all of him, had responded to him with an intensity that had surprised her.

But now, in the clear light of morning, she was feeling the consequences.

The soreness was real.

And she mentally resolved not to tempt him again quite so deliberately—at least not until her body had recovered.

Then another thought struck her, freezing her chopsticks halfway to her mouth.

They’d done it raw.

Multiple times.

With no protection.

Her hand moved unconsciously to her lower abdomen, pressing gently, massaging slightly.

The possibilities suddenly flooded her mind—pregnancy, a baby, another child...

Huo Ting Cheng noticed the small action immediately.

His eyes tracked the movement of her hand on her stomach, and something flickered across his face—too quick to identify.

"You can’t get pregnant," he said abruptly, his voice carefully neutral.

"It’s your safe days."

Tang Fei’s hand stilled.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

"How do you know it’s my safe days?"

He took a sip of tea, not quite meeting her eyes.

"I’ve seen your menstrual calendar.

In the bathroom.

I pay attention to these things."

"But..." she began, her hand still on her abdomen.

"Miracles can happen. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Safe days aren’t one hundred percent reliable.

What if—"

"You won’t," he interrupted, his tone firmer now.

"Trust me on this.

It’s not possible right now."

There was something in his voice—a certainty that went beyond simple calendar calculations.

Tang Fei studied his face, looking for clues.

"Even so," he continued, his voice softening slightly, "it’s not the right time.

Let the other children grow up first—Minghao, Qing Qing, Qin Xinyu.

They need our attention, our focus.

Another baby right now would be... complicated."

Tang Fei felt a flicker of something—disappointment?

suspicion?

She couldn’t quite name it.

"You sound very certain about this."

"I am," he replied, finally meeting her eyes.

"We have time, Fei’er.

There’s no rush."

But there was something he wasn’t saying.

She could feel it in the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his eyes held hers just a fraction too long, the careful control in his voice.

He was hiding something.

What Huo Ting Cheng didn’t say—what he couldn’t say—was the truth he’d been carrying like a stone in his chest since that terrible night seven years ago.

After Minghao’s birth, Tang Fei had nearly died.

The pregnancy had been difficult, the delivery traumatic.

She’d hemorrhaged badly, had been in surgery for hours while he paced the hospital corridors, terrified he would lose her.

When she’d finally stabilized, the doctor had pulled him aside with grim news: the damage to her reproductive system had been severe.

Another pregnancy would be extremely high-risk—potentially fatal.

"If she conceives again," the doctor had said quietly, "there’s a significant chance she won’t survive the pregnancy or delivery.

Her body simply can’t handle it.

I’m sorry, Mr. Huo, but you need to understand the risks."

Since then, Huo Ting Cheng had taken every precaution.