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.

put on her slippers and entered the living room. Before she could greet her parents, she heard a loud bang and flames sprang

of Chemistry,

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

was homemade. After all, he was good at chemistry. Blair couldn't tell the police what the man used, or how he'd done it. Her dad might have been a chemistry genius, but she didn't inherit any of

suicide. Her father brought explosives home, in an attempt to

hitting the living room wall. She was knocked

villa was a mess—flames and debris everywhere. Her parents' faces were contorted in pain, their mouths open. But

explosion had robbed her

her parents, but the blazing fire ripped through the whole villa. She tried, and was forced back by the

must do something, ' she thought.

but she couldn't find her phone. Probably it

blank. She could do nothing

though she could hear nothing, she still called

a figure burst into view, barreling through the fire and wreckage. It was her dad, wreathed

on the floor, unable to

mouth

she just couldn't run for her life. This was everything she ever knew, and now she watched

ringing. It was, after all, a high-class housing estate. Soon, a crowd

Blair struggled to stand and

and withdrew her hand, her head turning to look. A sharp piece of metal was lodged in her arm, and blood

she realized that if she didn't leave the villa now, she might

she didn't want to live if her

the kitchen to help put out the fire, but the temperature was too

and her clothes were drenched in sweat.

acrid smoke from the fire.

fire engines were approaching, sirens announcing their presence minutes before they

window to search for people trapped inside. He waded through the blaze and saw Blair standing there