He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? - Chapter 133: Chapter 133
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Later, there was finally news about Ivy.
One of Xavier's friends said he'd recognized a familiar face while traveling with a tour group.
She was doing research in Antarctica.
Ivy had majored in biomedical science.
Her target graduate school had been a top domestic institution.
After the acceptance list was confirmed, she'd told him:
"I prepared for so long—finally got what I wanted!"
But she never got what she wanted.
Xavier had destroyed it all on the last day of the acceptance period.
Antarctica—such a freezing cold place.
But she was always cold.
Even on 80-degree days, she'd wear a jacket.
Especially during her period—she'd bundle up completely.
By the time he made it to Antarctica, Ivy was gone again.
There'd been a sudden avalanche with hundreds of casualties.
When he heard a national research team was among them, he rushed over like a madman.
All he saw was endless snow with countless stretchers lying across it.
Suddenly he didn't dare go closer.
What if Ivy was among them?
When I heard about Xavier and Isla's breakup, it was during a post-meeting discussion with my fellow researchers.
My junior colleague Emma was confused:
"Ivy, why do men's feelings change so fast?"
"I heard that girl was his first love before she came back to the States, and he even hurt his girlfriend for her."
"His ex-girlfriend was so pitiful."
My other colleague Ryan replied:
"That's textbook scumbag behavior. I'd never do that—consider dating me."
They were joking around while I smiled without commenting.
That video had been blocked long ago—supposedly Xavier's doing.
I didn't know how he'd managed it.
Either way, except for my advisor, nobody here knew my past.
Antarctica was great—those penguin chicks, half the size of adults, would waddle over to me.
But our advisor wouldn't let us touch them—penguins with human scent get rejected by their colonies.
Sometimes we could see beautiful aurora.
Every time, my colleagues would drag me out to watch.
"Stop looking at data, Ivy! Come make a wish!"
I laughed: "Aren't shooting stars for wishes?"
"Whatever! If you believe, it works!"
"Ivy, what did you wish for?"
"Hope my paper gets published successfully!"
"Come on, tell us something we don't know."
"Well," I pressed my lips together, paused, then smiled, "If I could, I hope I never have to see people I don't want to see again."
But fate had other plans.
Today I went to the snowy mountains to collect samples when Emma called excitedly:
"Ivy! Someone's willing to fund our project!"
"Who?"
"No clue, but our advisor says they're super generous—dropped a few million on the first go!"
"I'm praying for some dreamy CEO advisor who'll gently say 'I'll edit your doctoral thesis, I'll solve all your problems'..."
"Hurry back! The advisor says we're heading home soon!"
I couldn't help laughing: "Alright, alright."
When I grabbed the snow lotus samples, the ground suddenly shook.
In seconds, snow came tumbling down at breakneck speed.
Shit—there'd been an avalanche here two days ago.
I'd heard earthquakes have aftershocks.
I'd specifically waited a day, and when nothing happened, figured it was safe.
Too fast to think—I closed my eyes and ran sideways desperately, but strong hands caught me around the waist.
The man rolled down the slope with me.
We rolled several times before stopping.
I just got scraped up.
The guy wasn't so lucky—looked like he broke his arm.
After surviving that, I immediately thanked him.
His lower face was covered by a scarf, and messy hair hid most of his features.
But somehow, I felt like I'd seen him somewhere before.
Seeing my furious advisor running over with my panicked colleagues, I almost got my ear yanked off:
"Were you trying to get yourself killed?"
I carefully pulled out the precious samples from my jacket—got them back safely!
My advisor couldn't stay mad at me: "You..."
"Alright, the private jet's ready. Let's go."
Emma suddenly pulled me aside, whispering:
"Ivy, look—that's our sponsor!"
The advisor also spotted him, casually positioning herself between us:
"Mr. Hartwell, it's not convenient here. Let's head back."
I froze, my earlier gratitude evaporating completely.
But I still got seated next to Xavier on the plane.
Only because he said he wanted to discuss project funding with me.
Once airborne, he went quiet again.
His gaze fixed directly on me.
One of Xavier's friends said he'd recognized a familiar face while traveling with a tour group.
She was doing research in Antarctica.
Ivy had majored in biomedical science.
Her target graduate school had been a top domestic institution.
After the acceptance list was confirmed, she'd told him:
"I prepared for so long—finally got what I wanted!"
But she never got what she wanted.
Xavier had destroyed it all on the last day of the acceptance period.
Antarctica—such a freezing cold place.
But she was always cold.
Even on 80-degree days, she'd wear a jacket.
Especially during her period—she'd bundle up completely.
By the time he made it to Antarctica, Ivy was gone again.
There'd been a sudden avalanche with hundreds of casualties.
When he heard a national research team was among them, he rushed over like a madman.
All he saw was endless snow with countless stretchers lying across it.
Suddenly he didn't dare go closer.
What if Ivy was among them?
When I heard about Xavier and Isla's breakup, it was during a post-meeting discussion with my fellow researchers.
My junior colleague Emma was confused:
"Ivy, why do men's feelings change so fast?"
"I heard that girl was his first love before she came back to the States, and he even hurt his girlfriend for her."
"His ex-girlfriend was so pitiful."
My other colleague Ryan replied:
"That's textbook scumbag behavior. I'd never do that—consider dating me."
They were joking around while I smiled without commenting.
That video had been blocked long ago—supposedly Xavier's doing.
I didn't know how he'd managed it.
Either way, except for my advisor, nobody here knew my past.
Antarctica was great—those penguin chicks, half the size of adults, would waddle over to me.
But our advisor wouldn't let us touch them—penguins with human scent get rejected by their colonies.
Sometimes we could see beautiful aurora.
Every time, my colleagues would drag me out to watch.
"Stop looking at data, Ivy! Come make a wish!"
I laughed: "Aren't shooting stars for wishes?"
"Whatever! If you believe, it works!"
"Ivy, what did you wish for?"
"Hope my paper gets published successfully!"
"Come on, tell us something we don't know."
"Well," I pressed my lips together, paused, then smiled, "If I could, I hope I never have to see people I don't want to see again."
But fate had other plans.
Today I went to the snowy mountains to collect samples when Emma called excitedly:
"Ivy! Someone's willing to fund our project!"
"Who?"
"No clue, but our advisor says they're super generous—dropped a few million on the first go!"
"I'm praying for some dreamy CEO advisor who'll gently say 'I'll edit your doctoral thesis, I'll solve all your problems'..."
"Hurry back! The advisor says we're heading home soon!"
I couldn't help laughing: "Alright, alright."
When I grabbed the snow lotus samples, the ground suddenly shook.
In seconds, snow came tumbling down at breakneck speed.
Shit—there'd been an avalanche here two days ago.
I'd heard earthquakes have aftershocks.
I'd specifically waited a day, and when nothing happened, figured it was safe.
Too fast to think—I closed my eyes and ran sideways desperately, but strong hands caught me around the waist.
The man rolled down the slope with me.
We rolled several times before stopping.
I just got scraped up.
The guy wasn't so lucky—looked like he broke his arm.
After surviving that, I immediately thanked him.
His lower face was covered by a scarf, and messy hair hid most of his features.
But somehow, I felt like I'd seen him somewhere before.
Seeing my furious advisor running over with my panicked colleagues, I almost got my ear yanked off:
"Were you trying to get yourself killed?"
I carefully pulled out the precious samples from my jacket—got them back safely!
My advisor couldn't stay mad at me: "You..."
"Alright, the private jet's ready. Let's go."
Emma suddenly pulled me aside, whispering:
"Ivy, look—that's our sponsor!"
The advisor also spotted him, casually positioning herself between us:
"Mr. Hartwell, it's not convenient here. Let's head back."
I froze, my earlier gratitude evaporating completely.
But I still got seated next to Xavier on the plane.
Only because he said he wanted to discuss project funding with me.
Once airborne, he went quiet again.
His gaze fixed directly on me.
End of He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? Chapter 133. Continue reading Chapter 134 or return to He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? book page.