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.

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

Jing was a Professor of Chemistry, but his degree hadn't made him much

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

tell the police what the man used, or how he'd done it. Her dad might have been a

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

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

and debris everywhere. Her parents' faces were contorted in pain, their mouths

robbed her of her

save her parents, but the blazing fire ripped through the

must do something, '

find her phone. Probably it didn't matter anyway, because she couldn't hear

went blank. She could do nothing but call

she could hear nothing, she still called out at

burst into view, barreling through the fire and wreckage. It was her dad, wreathed in flames. He wore an expression of extreme pain—but paradoxically, also, relief.

floor, unable to move.

mouth

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

was, after all, a high-class housing estate. Soon, a crowd gathered outside

struggled to stand

a sharp pain. Her hand flew to the wound instinctively. She felt something sharp and withdrew her hand, her head turning to look. A sharp piece of metal was lodged in her arm, and blood flowed freely down her sleeve,

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

she didn't want to live if her parents were

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

face was burning hot, and her clothes were drenched in sweat.

smoke from the fire. She

sirens announcing their presence

people trapped inside. He waded through the blaze and saw Blair standing