Everyone Hates My Frail Body.

Chapter 68: Frail Body

Chapter 68: Frail Body

When Song Qie heard Lu Beihuai's words, anger flashed in his eyes, and he swallowed the retort that was about to escape his lips.

No, this assessment was crucial for his entry into Hongyu Capital. If he helped Kewen Pharmaceutical achieve good results in the next three years, it would serve as strong proof of his abilities on his resume. The threshold for entering the financial sector was high; if he didn’t want to spend more time pursuing a degree, he needed to get good grades in the shortest time possible. Only then could he compete on equal footing with others who had higher academic qualifications.

“It seems that Special Assistant Song is still in a stable state of mind. He hasn’t even finished the task at hand yet, and he’s already thinking about going on a blind date. What a master of time management,” Lu Beihuai remarked, stepping out of the elevator as it opened. “Unfortunately, he may have to work overtime this weekend.”

“Then I’ll work overtime,” Song Qie said quickly, falling into step beside Lu Beihuai. He looked up at him anxiously. “I’d better deal with things first.”

Lu Beihuai glanced at him, and seeing the slight panic in Song Qie’s expression only fueled his frustration.

“Deal with it first?” he thought. “So, you still plan to go on a blind date, huh? You think you can just disregard my feelings like this?”

“Get in the car,” Lu Beihuai said tersely, walking past the passenger door and opening it coldly before moving around to the driver’s seat. He bent down to enter the car.

Song Qie looked at the open passenger door, feeling conflicted. But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside and climbed in.

Forget it; I’ll just walk to work tomorrow.

A lonely bicycle was parked in the corner, ready to spend the night there.

The black sedan drove into the night. New York, known as the city that never sleeps, was ablaze with lights. Museums and art galleries dotted the landscape, showcasing its rich culture under the night sky.

“I’ll get off at the museum in front,” Song Qie said, pointing out the window at his apartment.

“Am I your driver?” Lu Beihuai replied dryly.

Song Qie blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Mr. Lu, I want to get off at the Metropolitan Museum of Art up ahead. Thank you for taking me back.”

This person really was pushing his luck.

Lu Beihuai turned the wheel. “I usually see you riding a bicycle to work. Why haven’t you considered buying a car? It would make getting around much more convenient.”

After speaking, he glanced at Song Qie, who sat in silence.

The dim light in the car obscured Song Qie’s face, but he suddenly looked pale.

“…I don’t have time to get a driver’s license,” he said quietly.

Lu Beihuai shifted the steering wheel into the right lane, pausing slightly at the sound of Song Qie’s trembling voice.

Song Qie felt a bead of sweat trickle down his palm.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t drive or didn’t have time to get a license; it was the memory of a driving mistake that had led to a tragic accident. That accident had cost him his life before it even began.

When he had been knocked off the bridge, one thought had consumed him:

“I shouldn’t have driven if I had known. If I hadn’t driven, nothing would have happened.”