Chapter 40: Elias Mercer Tapped the Table with His Slender Fingers

"The opportunity is right in front of you if you want it." Elias Mercer tapped the table with his slender fingers. "Next October, the National Biomedical Research Council will form a gene sequencing research group, open to master's and doctoral candidates. If you get into grad school, you’ll be fully qualified to apply."

The project, led by three distinguished professors, had been approved last year. Though not yet public, it was an open secret at Ashford University.

For Clara Whitmore, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

"All the materials are here." He slid a silver flash drive toward her. "Take your time reviewing them."

Her lashes fluttered, eyes shimmering. "Thank you, Elias. I’ll think it over carefully."

The clock struck ten. Clara rose to leave.

Elias walked her to the foyer.

"We’re literally neighbors. No need for formalities." She waved with a laugh.

His gaze dropped to her fingertips. "Let the wound breathe. Don’t forget to change the dressing."

She instinctively curled her fingers. "Got it."

He returned with a pot of pink-and-blue succulents. "For you."

Plump leaves overlapped like pearls under the light. Clara accepted it with delight. "So pretty!"

"Last one at the florist." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Consider it a thank-you gift."

She shook her head. "Friends don’t keep score." Her eyes sparkled like scattered stardust.

"Right." His Adam’s apple bobbed.

In the VIP ward at Beacon Hill Medical Center, Julian Cross swaggered in with an insulated lunchbox.

"See how much I care, Grant?" He unveiled the contents like a prized offering. "Special health-boosting congee. One bowl, and you’ll be back in fighting shape!"

Mason Reed’s eyelid twitched at the golden-glowing porridge.

Everyone knew Grant Holloway hated congee—unless a certain someone made it.

Sure enough, Grant took one half-spoonful and grimaced. "Disgusting."

"Since when?" Julian sniffed it. "Perfect texture, rich aroma."

Grant tossed the spoon aside. "Get it out of here."

Julian smirked. "Could it be... you’re craving her cooking?" He dragged out the pause. "Too bad she’s now—"

"Get lost." Grant’s gaze turned glacial.

Mason hastily yanked his reckless friend away. "Got a death wish?"

In the hallway, Julian shook him off. "Why the act? If he misses her, just say it."

Mason massaged his temples. "Would it kill you to shut up?"

"Be the matchmaker, then." Julian nudged him. "At this rate, he’ll end up in the ICU from sheer repression."