Mr. Kane Got Blacklisted

Leighton grumbled, "Then why did you hit me? Do you have any conscience?" Nicole said, "The cactus is dried up; the spines
fall off with a touch.
It didn't even prick you, so stop whining." "Tt still hurts! You poked the sole of my foot, and the skin there is so tender!" Leighton
followed her, mumbling, "My foot hurts every time I go up the stairs now." Nicole stopped and turned her head.
"Want me to carry you up?" Leighton was taken aback.
"What?" Nicole pretended to move toward him as if to carry him.
Leighton jumped away in a hurry.
"What are you doing?" Nicole clicked her tongue, “See, you can still run and jump." Leighton was speechless once more.
His expression shifted several times before he finally yelled, " Cunning!" Nicole's head injury was still hurting, and she didn't want
to tease him anymore.
She went upstairs, opened a guest room for him, laid out anew blanket, and said with a yawn, "You'll have to make do here for
tonight.
I'll arrange for someone to clean tomorrow.
The bathroom is over there, and my room is next door.
I'm going to sleep now." Before Leighton could say anything, she was already leaving.
Leighton called after her, "Where's the washing machine?" "On the first-floor balcony." Nicole replied and then left.
Leighton looked around the room.
Besides a bed and a cabinet, there was almost nothing else.
It seemed like no one had ever stayed there.
Before showering, he called his mom to let her know he was safe, then went to wash up.
After drying off, he wrapped a towel around his waist and peeked out of his room.

The door to the adjacent room was closed with no light coming through; Nicole seemed to be asleep.
He grabbed his clothes and, despite being nearly six foot three, tiptoed downstairs.
His clothes had been dirtied earlier, and they smelled bad.
He needed to wash and dry them so he’d have something to wear the next day.
Setting the washer to wash and dry, he sat on the sofa, playing on his phone while waiting.
Before he knew it, it was late at night.
Leighton was so sleepy that his phone fell on his face three times before he finally dozed off.
Nicole woke up in the middle of the night from the pain of her wound.
She felt hot, her head and body ached, and she suspected she had a fever.
After lying there for a while to gather her strength, she got up to boil some water.
Downstairs, she heard a faint noise in the pitch-dark living room.
Following the sound, she saw a faint light coming from the sofa.
Frowning, she turned on the living room light and saw Leighton, wrapped in a towel, fast asleep on the sofa.
His phone was still playing short videos about the art exams.
Dedicated kid.
Nicole put the water on to boil, then dragged herself upstairs to get a blanket.
Leighton, normally so stern and aloof, always acting cool with his idol image, actually slept quite peacefully.
The sofa was small, and he nearly filled it, one leg stretched out, the other bent, his left arm resting on his abdomen, and his
right arm hanging off the side.
The towel was loosely draped around his waist, exposing his well- toned muscles.

Drowsily, Nicole remembered how two years ago, when they had worked together, he was still a lanky teenager.
Tall, but skinny.
The director had bluntly said that his height made it hard to pair him with actresses, and he looked like a scrawny chick, not the
type anyone would like.
Leighton had turned pale at that.
Looking at his clearly defined muscles now, Nicole thought he must have shown some real determination and perseverance.