Everyone Hates My Frail Body.

Chapter 43: Frail Body

Chapter 43: Frail Body

The next day arrived abruptly.

A loud knock on the door jolted Song Qie from his sleep.

“Adrian! Did you forget to set your alarm?” Hassan’s voice boomed from the other side.

Panicked, Song Qie shot upright, only to be met with a sudden wave of dizziness as his vision blurred. He had stood up too quickly. His head spun, and he was forced to sit back down on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he waited for the feeling to pass. After a minute or two, he managed to recover, though the lingering discomfort gnawed at him.

“Yeah, I forgot…” he muttered groggily, slapping his own face in frustration to wake himself up. He stumbled to the door and opened it.

When the door creaked open, Hassan was greeted by the sight of Song Qie, disheveled and yawning, with his dark hair sticking out in messy curls. His sleepy expression made him look like a bewildered kitten, his charm accentuated by the disarray. Hassan couldn’t help but grin at the contrast: the man whose financial success boasted millions of dollars annually, yet looked so adorably clueless first thing in the morning.

“There are still thirty minutes left,” Hassan said with a hint of urgency. “We have a seminar with the Harvard exchange students today. You forgot?”

Song Qie nodded sleepily, dragging himself to the bathroom. He quickly splashed water on his face and began brushing his teeth, glaring at himself in the mirror, his thoughts trailing back to last night. The culprit behind his terrible night’s sleep flashed in his mind: Lu Beihuai. He couldn’t stop thinking about the awkward encounter and his own mixed feelings. Now, running late was only adding to the embarrassment.

He was never late.

Hassan lingered in the doorway, casually munching on a croissant while watching Song Qie. “Do you think we’ve got time to grab coffee on the way to CMS if we bike?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“No,” Song Qie replied bluntly through a mouthful of toothpaste, spitting it out before rinsing his mouth and face again. He grabbed a towel, quickly wiping himself dry. "Done!"

Hassan stared in disbelief at his roommate’s zero-effort grooming routine. “How do you not have a skincare routine?” he mused out loud, his frown deepening. “If I skipped a day, I’d look like a raisin.”

Song Qie ignored the remark, casually pulling on a black long-sleeved jacket over his white T-shirt. He slipped into a pair of gray-blue jeans, grabbed his trusty baseball cap from the door, and threw on his shoes. Lastly, he stuffed his laptop and notes into his bag, ready to head out in less than ten minutes.

“Let’s go,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Hassan gave him a slow clap. “Impressive. You could sleep in forever with that efficiency.” He handed Song Qie the other half of his croissant, which Song Qie bit into without slowing down.

Just as they were about to leave, the door opened to reveal someone standing outside.

"Good morning," the person said softly.

Song Qie froze with his hand still gripping the door handle. It was Lu Beihuai. His eyes were slightly red, as if he hadn’t slept much either. The sight caught Song Qie off guard, and the croissant in his mouth suddenly felt like sand. For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other, tension thick in the air.

Song Qie’s mind raced, the memory of yesterday’s encounter still fresh. He had kicked Lu Beihuai out, and now here he was, looking wounded and pathetic at the door.