Jason Harris really does have that ability. A playboy, he basically doesn’t need to do anything—just crook a finger, or sometimes even just give a look, and countless women will throw themselves at him.

Samuel Clark nodded and turned to leave. The nurse called out to her, saying, “Dr. Clark, you haven’t taken your things yet.”

“You can just split them among yourselves.” Samuel Clark replied calmly.

Samuel Clark turned and walked forward, but at the corner not far ahead, she saw Jason Harris, along with the girl beside him.

The girl was dressed fashionably, strikingly beautiful, with bright red lips and a curvy figure. Back in the ward, Samuel Clark had already witnessed this girl’s skill at acting cute.

She looked up and saw the girl swinging Jason Harris’s arm, saying something—obviously acting coquettish. Jason Harris’s face was expressionless, but his brows and eyes were relaxed; he was clearly enjoying it.

Samuel Clark’s hands, stuffed in her pockets, unconsciously twisted together, her fingertips turning white. The pain brought her back to her senses. Hasn’t he always been like this? He likes the bold, seductive type, while she’s too well-behaved, too proper, too plain.

A good student has never been in his range of choices.

Now, faced with them head-on, Samuel Clark could only walk past. They had clearly seen Samuel Clark too. The girl called out to her, her smile bright: “Dr. Clark, thank you for earlier!”

Samuel Clark shook her head. “No need to thank me, it’s just our job.”

The girl stood next to Jason Harris. She glanced at the man, clearly sensing that after seeing this Dr. Clark, her cousin’s mood had changed.

There must be something fishy between the two of them.

The girl’s eyes spun craftily as she said, “Dr. Clark, do you know my cousin? You two seem pretty close?”

So she was a cousin. But the girl’s question was too bold and direct; Samuel Clark couldn’t handle it. She looked up at Jason Harris, hoping he would do something.

Jason Harris, one hand in his pocket, saw Samuel Clark at a loss, her cheeks tinged with red, and felt like teasing her. He looked straight at Samuel Clark, pressed his tongue against his lower jaw and let out a low chuckle, his tone meaningful: “Why don’t you tell her—what’s our relationship, hmm?”

It was as if, whether it was ambiguous or romantic, he left it up to her to decide.

Because of his lazy, teasing manner, Samuel Clark suddenly understood: someone like him, born with everything, probably would never know what it’s like to truly love someone.

Maybe, he never really cared about her at all.

Jason Harris had only meant to joke, but as soon as he finished speaking, he regretted it. Because he saw Samuel Clark’s clear, bright eyes slowly fill with tears.

A kind of panic spread and expanded in his heart. Jason Harris cleared his throat, wanting to say something, but then saw Samuel Clark blink, all her previous emotion gone. Her gaze was calm, her tone forthright:

“We don’t know each other, and it doesn’t matter.”

Jason Harris saw the decisiveness and clarity in her eyes, and his heart felt as if it was tangled by a thin thread—a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. He finally realized:

The person in front of him truly didn’t like him anymore.

Chapter 3: Confession

When Samuel Clark first started college, WeChat and other social apps had only just become popular. It was in October of that year that Samuel Clark officially crossed paths with Jason Harris.

Early October, the lingering summer heat hadn’t faded, the air was stifling and sticky, and if you stood outside for a while, sweat from your elbows would drip to the ground and quickly evaporate.

After finishing military training, this group of medical students officially began college life. Normally, anatomy was a course for the second semester of freshman year, but their professor did things differently and had them start early.

Today was only their second anatomy class, and the professor had already assigned homework: in groups, dissect a toad and record its nerve responses.

With all the newbies, the lab was in chaos.

“Damn, hold it down, sis!” a guy said irritably. “Don’t let it get away again.”

“I can’t, I’m scared, I get terrified just looking at it,” the girl’s voice trembled.

The two tried to work together, but the girl was too scared to touch it. She accidentally bumped the toad, and the green creature promptly peed all over the guy.

The air froze, then erupted in laughter. The guys at the next table were shaking with laughter. “Dude, what a way to start!”

After several failed attempts, other groups fared even worse—some hadn’t even touched the toad before running to the bathroom to throw up just from looking at it.

Meanwhile, several people were gathered around a girl, watching her dissection. She was slender, her hair tied back, revealing a fair neck. She wore a white lab coat, and her eyes under the goggles were calm and clear.

She grabbed the toad without fear, fixed it in place, took a steel needle and pierced its brainstem, unflinching, then extracted and crushed the tissue, severed the spine, used scissors to cut open the neck, and with tweezers, held its tongue to observe.

The whole process was smooth and efficient, her movements clean and practiced. There was a small round of applause from those around her. A guy praised, “Impressive, Samuel Clark. Judging by your looks, I thought you’d be the timid type, but when it comes to dissection, you’re so bold and decisive.”