Chapter 123 Impulsive Decision
Her words, filled with eager anticipation, caught Stefan off guard—a rare moment of genuine surprise for him.
He was used to people looking up to him, flattering him, being in awe of him. But no one had ever invited him to eat at a street stall with such a matter-of-fact tone, even with a hint of insistence.
"I saw it in a travel guide," Cecilia said, seeming to sense his hesitation. She quickly added, "Lots of people recommend it. They say it's the most famous old restaurant in Shadow City, been around for decades."
Since Stefan was already suspicious, she might as well confirm that she knew something about Shadow City.
If he dug deeper, she could also drop hints that she knew "Cecilia." As long as she could get through this without affecting their future cooperation, it would be fine.
"Travel guide?" Stefan raised an eyebrow.
The term was indeed somewhat new to him. Given his status, he naturally never needed to look up such things himself.
Stefan's gaze fell on Cecilia's face.
That face, usually covered with a layer of frost, now mixed with an indescribable nervousness and anticipation.
This was different from her calm composure when completing the design drawings, and different from her cold decisiveness when facing Rufus's provocation.
It was a vivid and urgent vitality, almost bursting through the soil.
Stefan suddenly found this more interesting than any perfect business plan.
"Alright," he didn't refuse.
The driver received instructions and parked the car in an inconspicuous spot by the roadside.
The two got out and crossed a narrow street toward the small stall hidden beneath an old residential building, completely unremarkable.
It really was a tiny noodle shop, without even a proper sign—just a crude lightbox hanging at the entrance with "Tom's Noodle House" written on it, glowing yellow in the night.
A few cheap folding tables and chairs were casually placed outside. Steaming white mist mixed with the rich aroma of bone broth hit them in the face, carrying a comforting warmth.
A portly middle-aged man, Tom, was busy at the stove, skillfully scooping noodles, ladling soup, and sprinkling scallions.
"Two bowls of noodles."
Cecilia found a relatively clean table and sat down, her movements so natural it didn't seem like her first visit.
"Coming right up!" Tom responded, looking up.
The moment he saw Cecilia's face clearly, his noodle-tossing motion visibly paused.
He studied Cecilia for a few seconds, his eyes full of surprise and a kind of dazed nostalgia.
"Young lady, you—" Tom's words stopped halfway. He shook his head and continued working, muttering to himself, "How strange..."
Cecilia's heart skipped a beat at his reaction.
Her hand tightened around the utensils, but she said to Stefan without showing any emotion, "This place is pretty basic, Mr. Hensley. Hope you don't mind."
Stefan took off his suit jacket, casually draped it over the chair back, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He looked around at the noisy surroundings and, far from showing discomfort, revealed a meaningful smile.
"An interesting experience," he said, looking at Cecilia. "You seem very familiar with this place."
"I told you, I did my research," Cecilia said, lowering her eyes to avoid his probing gaze.
"Is that so?" Stefan said noncommittally. "Did your guide mention that the owner likes to stare at pretty girls? He's definitely not hitting on you, so what's the reason?"
Cecilia froze.
Just then, Tom came over carrying two steaming bowls of noodles.
"Noodles are here!" He set the bowls down heavily, splashing a few drops of soup.
His gaze locked firmly on Cecilia's face again, with a stubborn persistence.
"Young lady, you look exactly like a customer I used to have," Tom finally couldn't help but speak.
Cecilia's breathing stopped for a moment.
She forced herself to look up and squeeze out a polite smile. "Really? What a coincidence."
"Yeah, too similar," Tom seemed to fall into memories, opening up in a rambling way. "She was also a young lady, tall and thin. She used to come eat noodles here often when she was in school. Always came alone, quiet, and liked to sit right where you're sitting now."
Tom pointed at the plastic stool beneath Cecilia.
"She especially loved adding vinegar and chili, and always finished every bit of her noodles." Tom sighed. "I wonder how she's doing now."
Cecilia's throat felt dry, her nose tingling with emotion.
So someone still remembered.
Remembered the version of herself who liked lots of vinegar and chili.
Across from her, Stefan took it all in.
He didn't miss Cecilia's body stiffening in that instant, nor the carefully suppressed emotion that showed when she lowered her eyes.
Stefan discreetly took out his phone and sent a message to his assistant Garth under the table.
[Look into Amelia. Dig deep into all her connections to Shadow City, especially her past life there. I want every detail.]
"Tom, what are you going on about to the customers!"
Just then, a plump middle-aged woman in an apron, Clea—Tom's wife—came over carrying two small dishes, playfully swatting Tom.
Clea set down the dishes and looked warmly at Cecilia and Stefan, her face full of friendly smiles.
"Don't mind him, dear. He just likes to ramble in his old age." Clea's gaze swept back and forth between Cecilia and Stefan, her tone affectionate. "Is this your boyfriend? He's so handsome! With those glasses, he looks so refined, like a big CEO on TV!"
Cecilia was caught off guard by this sudden assumption and quickly waved her hands.
"Ma'am, you've got it wrong. This is my boss."
"Boss?" Clea paused, then smiled even more broadly. "A boss is even better! A boss who accompanies his employee to eat at a small place like ours must be a caring, good boss! Young lady, you've found the right person to work for!"
Stefan heard this, and a hint of amusement flashed in his eyes behind his glasses. He actually responded, "The lady is right."
Cecilia nearly choked at his words.
Stefan, this guy—was he actually praising himself?
Back at the hotel, they each checked in at the front desk.
"Mr. Hensley, good night," Cecilia said formally, holding her room card.
"Good night." Stefan nodded, watching her back as she walked into the elevator, looking thoughtful.
Their rooms were next to each other.
The hallway was carpeted with thick rugs that absorbed all sound, making it eerily quiet.
Cecilia swiped open her door, walked into the room, casually set her suitcase aside, and leaned against the door, drained of energy.
She forced herself to regain composure, involuntarily replaying everything in her mind.
The decision to take him to the noodle shop—perhaps she'd been too impulsive.
If she wasn't prepared, she shouldn't have shown such obvious emotion in front of a businessman shrewd to the bone.
Cecilia let out a soft sigh, shook off those chaotic thoughts, and turned toward the bathroom.