Chapter 216 Finding Myself
Cecilia walked over and pulled out the chair across from Stefan to sit down.
"Have some porridge first, it's good for your stomach." Stefan pushed the bowl of perfectly warm porridge in front of her, and casually placed some dumplings on her small plate.
"Don't worry about Rufus for now. Last night's commotion at the cemetery was big, but the news got shut down quickly. I've already told all the major media outlets not to report anything related to it."
Cecilia's fingers tightened around the white porcelain spoon handle.
"My mom..." her voice was a bit strained.
"She's at a care facility." Stefan put down his tablet and finally looked up at her, his gaze calm and certain. "It's an institution fully owned by the Hensley family, deep in the mountains, with the same security level as this villa. I've arranged for the best psychiatric expert team. Unless I agree, not even a fly can get in there."
When he said this, his tone was very calm, but Cecilia understood the weight behind it.
He hid Bronte away not just to treat her illness, but more importantly to cut off any possibility of Rufus controlling Cecilia through Bronte.
Stefan was declaring war on Rufus, and he was taking Cecilia's biggest weakness into his own hands without hesitation, even though it was a huge problem.
"Rufus won't let this go." Cecilia lowered her head and took a sip of porridge. It was soft, sweet, and fragrant, but couldn't suppress the bitterness in her heart. "He's always been crazy. Now, he'll only be crazier than before."
"Then let him go crazy."
Stefan picked up his utensils again and began eating, his manners impeccably elegant. "Business is like a battlefield. I've dealt with crazy people before. As long as he still wants to do business in Harmony City, he can't really do whatever he wants."
He paused, looking at Cecilia. "Are you worried about dragging me down? Worried about the Hensley Group's stock price? Or worried about your mother?"
Cecilia looked up, meeting Stefan's eyes that seemed to see through everything.
"All of it." She answered honestly. "Stefan, this was supposed to be my war alone."
"From the moment you grabbed my hand last night, it stopped being a war fought alone." Stefan chuckled lightly.
"Besides, Rufus gave me that punch last night. If I don't hit back, I can't swallow this."
Cecilia looked at the bruise at the corner of Stefan's mouth that hadn't completely faded yet, and something hard inside her heart silently crumbled a little at that moment.
"Eat up." Seeing her spacing out, Stefan tapped the table. "After you finish, I'll take you somewhere."
"Where?"
"To clear your head." Stefan turned off the tablet screen, a barely noticeable softness flashing in his eyes. "This house smells too much like medicine. Let's get some fresh air."
Stefan wanted to take her to the backyard of the villa.
It was an extremely large glass greenhouse.
Pushing open the heavy glass door, a wave of moist, warm air rushed toward them, instantly dispelling the chill of the early winter morning.
Unlike the withered vegetation outside, here everything was lush and green. Shelves of varying heights were filled with all kinds of exotic flowers and plants, and the air floated with the unique fragrance of soil and plants.
Sunlight poured down through the huge dome, refracted through the glass, forming dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground. The misting system happened to be running, and the fine water droplets refracted tiny rainbows in the sunlight. The entire space seemed quiet, healing, and even somewhat unrealistically beautiful.
Cecilia stood at the entrance, a bit dazed.
She hadn't expected that in Stefan's private domain, filled with schemes and power plays, there would be such a gentle corner.
"When I used to have insomnia, I liked to come sit here." Stefan walked to a long wooden work table and casually picked up a pair of gardening shears. "Plants are simple. You give them water, give them sunlight, and they bloom for you. Much easier than dealing with people."
He was dressed casually today, sleeves rolled up, holding the shears—he had less of that decisive business edge and more of a relaxed, homey vibe.
"This orchid." Stefan pointed to an unremarkable orchid in the corner. Its leaves were long and thin, its posture not particularly graceful, even somewhat yellowed. "Two years ago I accidentally killed it. The roots were all rotten. Everyone said it couldn't be saved and told me to throw it away."
Cecilia followed his gaze.
Though the orchid had some dead leaves on the outside, a very tender green shoot had emerged from the center, stubbornly reaching upward, with a small bud at the tip.
"What happened then?" Cecilia asked.
"Then I cut off all the rotten roots, changed the soil, and threw it in this corner without caring for it." Stefan played with the shears in his hand. "I didn't expect that after a winter, it came back to life on its own. Not only did it survive, it even grew a bud."
He turned to look at Cecilia, his gaze deep and peaceful. "Some things, even if they're rotten to the roots, even if everyone has given up on them, as long as there's a breath left, as long as there's even a little bit of sunlight, they can come back to life. And often, they live more beautifully than before."
Cecilia's heart trembled sharply.
She knew what he was talking about.
He was talking about that flower, and he was also talking about her.
The Cecilia who was burned to ashes in the fire, who died in despair, and this orchid with rotten roots that came back to life—how similar they were.
Stefan didn't say anything more profound. He understood when enough was enough.
"Help me out?" He handed Cecilia the shears and a watering can filled with water.
"The gardener took a few days off. These rose bushes have too many dead branches, and I'm not good at pruning them."
Cecilia hesitated, but still reached out to take the shears and walked to the row of roses, looking at the messy branches.
As a designer, she had a natural sensitivity to lines.
The first cut, and a dry branch fell to the ground.
As her movements became more practiced, the process of cutting away the dead and reshaping the form actually gave her a strange sense of satisfaction.
It felt like she wasn't just cutting plant branches, but also those things that had been wrapped around her heart, making it hard to breathe—the past and the gloom.
Stefan didn't disturb her. He just sat quietly in a nearby wicker chair, flipping through a book, occasionally getting up to hand her a tool or point out where leaves needed water.
Time became slow and thick in this space filled with light, shadow, and floral fragrance.
After pruning the last rose bush, Cecilia put down the shears. A thin layer of sweat had formed on her forehead, but that heavy stone pressing on her chest seemed to have been lifted a bit, and even her breathing felt smoother.
She walked to the work table, where Stefan's sketchbook and some pencils lay.
He usually used them to record inspiration or doodle.
Cecilia looked at the orchid that had come back to life and, as if possessed, picked up a pencil.
The tip touched the paper with a rustling sound.
It had been a long time since she had drawn so purely just for the sake of drawing. Since her rebirth, every design she made carried ulterior motives, every line hid calculations.
But at this moment, she just wanted to draw this tenacious life.
Lines moved swiftly across the paper.
It wasn't just an orchid.
Under her pen, the spreading leaves transformed into soaring wings, and the budding flower became a raised crown. The somewhat yellowed base was depicted as a pattern of burning flames.
This was an orchid, and also a phoenix rising from the ashes.
The composition was bold, the lines sharp, yet radiating vitality. This was "Echo's" style, and also the true soul of Cecilia.
Stefan had somehow walked behind her. Looking at the phoenix on the paper that seemed ready to burst through it, a flash of amazement crossed his eyes.
"Looks like my chief designer has finally found her groove again."
Cecilia stopped her pen, looked at the drawing, and the corners of her mouth curved into a very faint arc.
"Stefan."
"What?"
"Thank you."
This thank you was lighter than any of her previous ones, yet also more solemn.
Stefan smiled, about to say something, when his phone on the work table suddenly rang.
It was the ringtone for private contacts.
A call at this time was probably not good news.