"Here," he said softly, completely unbothered by the watching eyes. "This is the best part. Try it."
When she hesitated, suddenly self-conscious, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur ant only for her. "Eat, Fei’er. I didn’t bring you to my restaurant so you could perform for strangers. I brought you here so you could enjoy yourself."
They were here to have fun, not to kill. If he killed, he would end up with a world with only the two of them.
He picked up his napkin and gently wiped her lips, cleaning away a small sar of sauce with tender care, as natural as breathing.
"You and Minghao are just the sa," he observed with a fond smile, continuing to crack open another crab for her. "Both of you eat with such joy, such complete presence in the mont. It’s refreshing."
It was only he who knew Minghao didn’t belong to his wife but rather, assassin Ice, the dead woman who was his wife’s sister. And he felt it was normal that they could have similarities because they were closely related.
Assassin Ice was Minghao’s biological mother while Tang Fei was her auntie and her mother’s biological sister.
"Hehe... Do we?" She felt her chest tighten with emotion, heartache, and shyness warring within her. They did have similarities in their behavior, she and Minghao. The sa enthusiasm for food, the sa directness, the sa underlying warmth that the original Tang Fei had never possessed.
Tang Fei slightly felt bad and then recalled the possibilities that they could have similarities because they were sisters and she was her Auntie.
"What do you think?" He continued feeding her chunky pieces of seafood, completely ignoring the judging stares from other tables, his entire focus on ensuring she enjoyed her al. "Minghao lights up the sa way when she’s excited about sothing. Pure, unguarded joy. It’s beautiful."
His tone made it clear that he didn’t see her enthusiasm as a flaw to be corrected. He saw it as sothing precious to be protected. With him, she could be herself and didn’t need to catch up with the society norms.
Tang Fei forgot again about the watching eyes, about the whispered criticisms in foreign languages, about maintaining the perfect image expected of Mrs. Huo, and went on enjoying her food.
She simply ate, and laughed, and let herself be cared for by this man who’d sohow seen through all her character and chosen to love her anyway.
"This crab is amazing," she mumbled around a mouthful of sweet at, then imdiately covered her mouth, embarrassed.
Huo Ting Cheng just smiled, that rare, genuine expression that transford his usually austere features. "I’m glad you like it. They’re imported live from Alaska specifically for this restaurant. Only the best."
"You are spoiling ," she said softly.
"I intend to spoil you for the rest of our lives, I have everything..." he countered smoothly, placing another perfectly prepared piece on her plate. "Get used to it, Fei’er."
From a nearby table, an older woman who’d been watching with particular disdain leaned toward her husband, a business associate of Huo Ting Cheng’s, and made a cutting remark in Mandarin, clearly assuming the young Mrs. Huo was too focused on food to pay attention.
"Such a waste. Master Huo could have married into any prestigious family, strengthened valuable alliances. Instead, he’s saddled with so common girl who doesn’t even know how to conduct herself at a proper dinner."
Her husband, however, had the sense to look uncomfortable. He’d worked with Huo Ting Cheng long enough to know that the man’s hearing was excellent, and his mory for slights was even better.
"Perhaps," he said carefully, loudly enough to carry, "we should focus on our own al, dear. Master Huo’s private affairs are none of our concern."
But the damage was done. Several other diners had heard, had nodded in agreent with the woman’s assessnt.
Tang Fei had heard too; her foreign language comprehension picked up every word, even though she was supposed to be focused on her food. The criticism stung, not because she cared what these strangers thought, but because part of her worried they were right.
Was she embarrassing him? Failing to live up to the standards expected of soone in his position?
Huo Ting Cheng must have seen sothing in her expression, the slight dimming of her enthusiasm, the way her hand hesitated reaching for the next piece.
"Fei’er," he said quietly, drawing her attention back to him. "Look at ."
She t his eyes, finding them dark and intense.
"I don’t care what anyone in this room thinks except you," he said with absolute conviction. "I don’t care if they think you lack refinent or proper etiquette or whatever other arbitrary standards they’ve decided matter. You are exactly who I want. Exactly how I want you. Do you understand?"
She nodded, throat tight with emotion.
"Good." He selected the largest, most impressive prawn from the platter and began peeling it for her with ticulous care. "Now eat. You said you were hungry, and I intend to feed my wife properly."
The possessive emphasis on my wife carried clearly across the quiet restaurant, a subtle but unmistakable claim and warning to anyone who might continue their criticism.
Tang Fei felt sothing warm bloom in her chest, gratitude, affection, and a fierce protectiveness of her own. This man, who could destroy businesses with a word, who commanded respect and fear in equal asure, was using his power not to impress others but to ensure she felt comfortable being herself.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Always," he replied simply, placing the perfectly peeled prawn on her plate with a small smile. "Now, try this with the ginger sauce. It’s spectacular."
And just like that, the mont passed. Tang Fei returned to enjoying her al, and Huo Ting Cheng returned to doting on her with complete disregard for their audience.
Around them, the other diners slowly returned to their own als, though the whispers didn’t entirely stop. So remained critical, others seed thoughtful, reconsidering their initial judgnts.
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