Everyone Hates My Frail Body.

Chapter 8: Frail Body

Chapter 8: Frail Body

The next day.

Song Qie sat lazily on the edge of the bed, yawning as he tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. His hair was messy, and his face bore the weight of drowsiness. He dozed off again, thinking that a few more minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt. As a high school student, feeling this sleepy was all too familiar.

He didn't expect to experience this exhaustion again after graduating from college. It was genuinely depressing.

Just then, Lu Beihuai walked into the bedroom wearing a clean uniform. He found Song Qie dozing off on the bed, his head nodding repeatedly as if he were fishing.

Approaching the bed, Lu Beihuai set down the clothes in his hand, preparing to help Song Qie change as he usually did.

However, just as he reached to help unbutton Song Qie’s pajamas, the boy suddenly raised his head, wrapping his arms around his chest in shock, staring at Lu Beihuai as if he were a beast.

“You, you, you…” Song Qie stammered, startled by the sudden movement. He quickly covered himself, eyes wide with alarm. “Pervert!”

Lu Beihuai froze, his hand suspended in the air.

“What are you going to do?” Song Qie glared at him, his arms still wrapped tightly around his chest.

“Help you change your clothes,” Lu Beihuai replied calmly. “I’ve done it before.”

It had been a few days since he had helped, but this reaction was unexpectedly intense.

“No, no, no,” Song Qie insisted, shaking his head vigorously.

Lu Beihuai raised an eyebrow, confused. Hadn't Song Qie previously asked him to help change clothes? He recalled the teasing questions about whether his belly button looked nice. Why the sudden shift in attitude?

“I can change myself!” Song Qie declared, snapping back to reality. He grabbed the clothes that Lu Beihuai had placed next to him and stood up. But he got up too quickly; his face paled, and the room spun. Dizziness overtook him, and he stumbled back onto the bed.

Lu Beihuai watched in silence.

He observed the boy as he fell back, hitting the headboard with a soft thud. Song Qie groaned in pain, pursing his lips as a fragile expression washed over him. In that moment, Lu Beihuai felt a thrill of satisfaction—almost a sense of vindication.

But when Song Qie's misty eyes turned toward him, pleading for help, the thrill was replaced with a flicker of concern.

The sight was like a hand reaching out for salvation just before being engulfed by the sea. Despite the insults and bravado thrown at him in the past, Song Qie was now the one seeking refuge.

The dark depths of Lu Beihuai's gaze locked onto Song Qie's fragile face, and he couldn’t suppress the slight curve of his lips.

“What’s wrong, young master? Are you feeling unwell?” Lu Beihuai asked, his voice a mix of concern and amusement.

Song Qie struggled to focus, feeling increasingly dizzy. Although his vision was swimming, he could still see Lu Beihuai’s concerned expression as he approached.

The spinning made him feel nauseous, his strength waning. All he could do was lean against Lu Beihuai’s comforting presence.

“It may be hypoglycemia. Can you drink some water?” Lu Beihuai suggested, looking down at the boy leaning against him. He noted the way Song Qie’s eyelids drooped, his complexion pale and drained of energy—like a fragile doll ready to shatter.