Mr Carlos Huo, She's Your Wife

Blair had heard about Wesley long before they met. Everyone thought he was a hero. In Blair's eyes, he was a superhero.

Blair was luckier than Wesley's other fans because her uncle was his superior. A few loving words were all it took, and her uncle told her anything she wanted to know about the man she had a crush on.

Even so, Blair had never asked her uncle to introduce her. She believed in fate, and somehow, she firmly believed that they would eventually be together.

Shock of shocks, she was right. She met him not long after.

But their first meeting was not a fun one.

That year, Blair was nineteen years old and Wesley was twenty-three.

Blair was a college student, and her college was in the same city as her home. But she seldom came home. Whenever she did, she always saw her parents fighting.

But sometimes, she had to come home. Just like today.

It was the holidays. Her roommates all went home. Blair stood in front of the villa with a small suitcase. It was a beautiful villa, but hardly warm.

She typed in the code at the entrance. "Beep!" The door to the villa opened.

"Look at you! I'm sick of you! Why did you come back? Get out of here!" a woman shrieked—she was Blair's mom, Grace Ji. Blair sighed helplessly as she realized that her mom was yelling at her dad again.

Judging from her name, you could tell that Grace Ji's parents wanted her to be a graceful woman.

And she worked to live up to that name. Even now, she was soft and elegant in public. Everyone believed that her name reflected her inner beauty.

But she was a totally different woman in front of Jacob Jing, Blair's father.

Blair knew why—it was because of life.

Life had ground her kind-hearted and gentle mom down. She became bitter and angry.

slippers and entered the living room. Before she could greet her parents, she heard a

was a Professor of Chemistry, but his degree

couldn't stand his wife any longer, and couldn't see any other way out. He

or how he'd done it. Her dad might have been a chemistry genius, but she didn't inherit any

her that this was suicide. Her father brought explosives home, in an attempt to

the living room wall. She was knocked senseless. When she

villa was a mess—flames and debris everywhere. Her parents' faces were contorted in pain, their mouths open. But Blair couldn't hear

her

wanted to rush in and save her parents, but the blazing fire ripped through the whole villa.

do something, '

to call the fire department, but she couldn't find her phone. Probably it didn't matter anyway,

She could do nothing but call

still called out

It was her dad, wreathed in flames. He wore an expression of extreme pain—but paradoxically, also,

lay on the floor,

mouth

for her life. This was everything she ever knew, and now

villa kept ringing. It was, after all, a high-class housing estate. Soon, a crowd gathered outside the

pain, Blair struggled to stand and stagger towards

to the wound instinctively. She felt something sharp and withdrew her hand, her

if she didn't leave the villa now, she

didn't want to live if

the windows, trying to help anyone who might be trapped in there. Blair wanted to go to the kitchen to help

face was burning hot, and her clothes were

was thick with acrid smoke from the fire.

sirens announcing their presence minutes before they

villa through a broken window to search for people trapped inside. He waded through the blaze and saw Blair standing there in a daze. He