Wesley was annoyed. He had never met a woman as troublesome as Blair. "Get up!" he ordered
harshly.
Blair sat up on the bed.
The next thing she knew, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her off the bed.
"Ow! You're hurting me!" she cried out.
Wesley looked down at her wrist and realized that he was holding her where the needle had been
pricked when she was on an IV drip. "I'm sorry," he said with a frown.
"I told you I wouldn't be able to finish the five-kilometer run, but you insisted I run. Because of that, I
ended up having heatstroke, and you are still so mean to me. Wesley, I'm a girl, not a military man,"
Blair protested.
Her last sentence was a reminder. It struck him that she wasn't as tough as the soldiers he trained
every day. He couldn't treat her the same way he treated them.
Just as she was expecting some comforting words from him, he bent over, picked her up and threw her
over his shoulder. Blair shrieked.
As he passed the side-table on his way to the ward door, he grabbed her medicine and tucked it into
his pocket.
The college doctor was prescribing some medicine to a student in his office. He happened to see
Wesley carrying Blair on his shoulder as he walked by his office. His eyes widened like saucers in
shock.
He walked to the door immediately in the hope of reminding Wesley that he wasn't supposed to treat a
girl so roughly, let alone a patient who had recently had heatstroke.
But he wasn't quick enough. By the time he reached the hallway, Wesley was already out of sight.
Lying upside down on Wesley's shoulder, Blair's head swam uncontrollably. And the jolt made her
nauseated. She felt like puking. But before she could say anything, she was stuffed into a car.
Wesley got into the driver's seat and started the vehicle. As the car slowly left the university, Blair felt a
little better and realized that she was in a black Hummer with premium equipment.
She looked around the car and asked, "Is this car yours?"
"Hmm." He gave her a lukewarm response.
"Where did you get the money for this?" Considering his age and position, she didn't think he could
afford it.
"A friend gave it to me as a gift," he said.
"Who was it? Obviously, you have some rich friends." She wished she knew some moneybags who
was generous enough to give her a Hummer.
Wesley wasn't in the mood to answer her. But then it dawned on him that maybe she would decide to
chase his loaded friend instead of pestering him, so he said, "Carlos Huo."
"Oh, I don't know him." She had never heard of the name before. Besides, Blair only had eyes for
Wesley. Other men just didn't attract her attention, no matter how exceptional they were.
She didn't ask any more questions about Carlos. Wesley was disappointed. But he didn't say anything
else and focused on the road.
Soon, the car pulled into Hillside Apartments. After parking the car in the underground parking lot,
Wesley got out first.
He opened the back door for Blair and stood by the car, waiting for her to get down. She was about to
jump down, but then changed her mind. "Your car is too high."
Wesley checked the height and thought, 'Too high? Are you serious?' Not wanting to argue with her
anymore, he put his hands around her waist and carried her out of the car as if he were carrying a
child.
Blair was left speechless. She had imagined her prince charming carrying her in his arms like a
princess. Not this. She rolled her eyes.
Before he could put her down, she wrapped her legs around his waist and put her hands around his
neck.
In case she fell, Wesley closed the car door with one hand and held her waist with the other.
"Get down," he demanded.
"No, I'm sick," she refused, burying her face in his chest.
"I'll let go of my hand."
"Fine."
Wesley really let go, but Blair didn't. So in the end, she clung on to him like a koala holding on to a big
tree.
Her softness and fragrance stirred up his buried feelings. The attraction was getting stronger. To
conceal his emotion, he pretended to be mad and glared at her. But she wasn't looking at him. "I'm a
patient. I don't feel well," she kept saying.
They were in a deadlock for two minutes. Wesley had only two options—either he took her upstairs like
this, or he somehow made her get down. Finally, he made his decision. He wrapped both of his arms
around her waist and made his way to the elevator.
Blair flashed a triumphant smile.
The elevator arrived at the sixteenth floor. When they reached her apartment, Blair got off him and said
sweetly, "Thank you for bringing me home. Bye."
At this point, she didn't look like a patient at all.
Wesley took her medicine out of his pocket, gave it to her and left without a word.
In the parking lot, he opened all the car windows to air out her fragrance.
He lit a cigarette and smoked while he waited for her scent to disappear. When it was about done, he
stubbed out the cigarette and got into the car.
Determined to find out why she hadn't met Wesley in the elevator in the past few days, Blair got up
early the next morning and waited at the elevator on the sixteenth floor.
She wasn't going to leave until she met him. And she did meet him this time.
It turned out that he had been taking the stairs.
She was surprised. If it were her, she would have been exhausted after climbing sixteen floors. But
Wesley looked fine. He was only panting lightly.
As if Blair were invisible, he walked by her without saying anything and went towards his apartment to
open the door.
Before he could close the door, the elevator doors opened with a ding. Blair wondered who had come
to their floor so early in the morning.
A girl in a school uniform appeared. Seeing Wesley, who was about to close the door of his apartment,
she ran to him as she called, "Uncle W— Who are you?" She paused when she saw Blair.
Blair recalled that this was the same girl who had been to Wesley's place the other night.
Wesley saw Megan. He called, "Megan, come in."
"Okay. Uncle Wesley, who is she?"
"My neighbor," Blair heard him reply.
"Oh, that's why she is here." Megan gave Blair one more look as the door was shut behind them.
All of a sudden, Blair felt like what she had been doing all along had been pointless. She had been
trying so hard to pursue him, but to him, she was only a neighbor. Not even a friend.
She had been so forward with him, giving him all kinds of signals, but he remained indifferent towards
her.
'Maybe he really doesn't like me. I'm such a loser.'
That evening, Blair had dinner with Hartwell. She told him what had happened in the library. He picked
up some food from the bowl and put it on her plate. Then he said, "I heard that you had heatstroke
yesterday. It's been really hot outside lately. And as a junior, you don't even have to attend the military
training. So, why were you running in the sun?"
Blair wasn't surprised that Hartwell knew about her sunstroke. "Our substitute guidance counselor has
been picking on me, so I mixed up some paint and told her that it was coffee. I convinced her to drink it.
She was pissed, and made me and Joslyn do a five-kilometer run in the sports ground. The worst part
was that she left us in the hands of the well-known, devil-like military instructor, Wesley. You already
know what happened after that—I got sunstroke."
"Wesley?" Hartwell frowned. "He is known for being harsh, but every one of his soldiers turns out to be
excellent. I'm not surprised that you got sunstroke if he was your military instructor."
"Me neither," Blair seconded.
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