New York, Manhattan, at dusk. The evening breeze was gentle and warm.
The Knicks had wrapped up their road trip to Philadelphia and returned to New York without a hitch.
The team gave its players a brief break to recover from the intense playoff schedule.
The roar of battle on the court had faded for now, and Li Fei's private time quietly began.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse overlooking the river, New York glittered with brilliant lights.
Soft, warm lighting filled the home, washing away the sharpness and intensity of the court.
On the court, he was a ruthless ruler who dominated the league. Here, he was remarkably gentle.
Li Fei sank wearily into the sofa.
His tall, straight frame had shed all its toughness from the court, leaving him calm and relaxed.
Monica Bellucci leaned quietly against his side.
Her simple, elegant house dress accentuated her gentle grace and poise.
A slight curve had appeared in her belly, and her tenderness as she carried new life shone through.
She rested lightly against Li Fei's shoulder, warmth and affection in her eyes.
After the heat and intensity of the game, the simple peace of home was the most healing thing.
Li Fei's broad, warm hand rested gently over her belly.
His fingers stroked it softly, each movement careful, as if he feared disturbing the child within.
He had a Titanium Alloy Physique and feared no intense physical contact—a battle-hardened man.
Yet in front of his child, he was gentle, every hard edge softened.
"Have you been feeling uncomfortable at all lately?" Li Fei asked softly, his voice tender and indulgent.
Monica shook her head, a serene smile lifting the corners of her lips.
"Everything's fine. The baby's been good and hasn't given me any trouble."
"It's just that