The Delicate and Frail One Everyone Hates - Chapter 5

“I want to dye my hair.”

As soon as they sat down back in the classroom, Lu Beihuai heard Song Qie say this. He had an “I knew it” expression; Song Qie had just talked about studying, but now he was back to hair dye. He had already tried red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Who knew what he wanted this time? Every time he dyed his hair, Lu Beihuai had to sit with this young master for an entire afternoon.

“I want to dye it back to black.” Song Qie sat in “Song Qie’s” seat and quickly familiarized himself with the environment. It was an international school with small classes, similar to where he had studied abroad. It wasn’t class time yet, so there were only a few students in the room. The classmates who saw him return all greeted him warmly.

It was that kind of exaggerated warmth, as if they were terrified of him giving them a cold shoulder. It seemed the “Song Qie’s” parents were indeed very powerful, but no matter how powerful, all of this would eventually belong to Lu Beihuai.

While thinking, his hand instinctively reached into the desk drawer and felt a small mirror. Without thinking much, he pulled it out to check himself. Looking into the mirror, he froze for a moment.

Wasn’t this narcissistic habit a bit too practiced?

He wasn’t usually this vain!

Looking into the small mirror, he silently tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

Lu Beihuai seemed used to it. He took out his books and notebook from the drawer: “Fine, but can we not skip class to do it this time?”

Song Qie put the mirror back: “What do you mean skip class? I’m going to study hard and stop skipping.” After saying that, he held his hand out toward Lu Beihuai: “Let me see your notes.”

Lu Beihuai hesitated for two seconds before handing the notebook to him: “Calculus BC is next. The teacher is going to go over the monthly exam.”

Song Qie flipped through Lu Beihuai’s notebook. It was a combined notebook and correction journal. The handwriting was beautiful and neat. After flipping through a dozen pages, he saw that Lu Beihuai had chosen Calculus BC, one of the harder AP courses.

Scanning the problems, he noticed a pattern in the types of questions Lu Beihuai frequently missed. Looking further down, some of the problems were indeed difficult for high school students. Song Qie hadn’t studied in China during his middle and high school years, but seeing these questions made him realize the gap between domestic and international high schools.

This wasn’t a simple monthly exam.

These questions didn’t look like standard college entrance exam problems; they looked more like competition math. Problems of this level didn’t just test a student’s logical thinking; accurately speaking, they required a student to possess logic, abstraction, generalization, and reasoning skills all at once. The mental workload of the entire set was massive—a total nightmare for test-takers, even those with excellent grades.

He picked up a pen and reached out to Lu Beihuai: “Show me your exam paper.”

Lu Beihuai looked at him, and after a moment, handed the paper over.

Song Qie unfolded Lu Beihuai’s paper, which had a passing score of 3. He flipped the pages and found that on the second-to-last large problem, Lu Beihuai had missed that specific type of question again. He looked at Lu Beihuai hesitantly:

“What… is the point of you taking these correction notes?”

Lu Beihuai: “…” He really wanted to say, You, who scored nearly zero, have no right to talk about ‘meaning.’ Not knowing what game Song Qie was playing, he could only play along: “Well, it’s to repeatedly remind myself not to make the same mistake on this type of problem.”

“But you got it wrong again.” Song Qie put the paper down and tapped the problem with his finger. After speaking, he noticed Lu Beihuai staring at him. He swallowed nervously: “…What?”

To his surprise, Lu Beihuai looked down and smiled. Honestly, a high school boy this handsome looked great when he smiled; it was quite a visual treat.

Song Qie silently got goosebumps. So, this is how a ‘blackened’ psychopath is raised. He could still smile even after being scolded and criticized. What kind of mindset was that? Truly a madman.

“Nothing. I’m just happy the Young Master wants to start studying hard.” Lu Beihuai was used to dealing with this person’s whims. He placed a scratchpad in front of Song Qie: “So, are we still going to the bar after school today?”

Just then, the sound of footsteps came from the doorway. Before Song Qie could look up, three tall figures walked into the classroom and sat in the surrounding seats. Perhaps due to their strong auras, he looked up silently.

He saw the “F3” from earlier sitting in front, to the left, and to the right of him and Lu Beihuai, like a tripod surrounding them.

In particular, Xie Jingchu dragged his chair over and rested his arm right on Song Qie’s desk, pressing down on the exam paper. He leaned forward slightly, smiling with a hint of mischief as he watched him: “Why do I feel like you’ve become distant from the three of us after being sick? Want to go out later? Don’t you hate Calculus BC the most?”

Song Qie felt a shoe tap against his own under the desk. He glanced down—it was Xie Jingchu’s. Meeting the other’s playful, teasing gaze, he took a slow, deep breath to calm his racing heart.

…He was nervous again.

To be honest, he didn’t know how “Song Qie” usually interacted with these three, but he felt that birds of a feather flocked together. These four rich boys definitely played without any boundaries.

Back when he was studying abroad, he had faced similar situations. Because he always had a cold face, people would ask where he got his “superiority complex,” and some even liked to provoke him. His usual solution was to stay silent and not respond.

He knew that speaking would only make his aura lose out to the other person. Silence was a form of counterattack; if you didn’t speak, people at least thought you were someone not to be messed with.

He also knew these people wouldn’t actually dare to touch him.

But now he wasn’t himself; he was “Song Qie,” a known “madman.” He had to use a madman’s way.

He silently started brainwashing himself: Come on, show them that ‘tyrant at home’ energy.

“What paper are you looking at?” Shen Tingsi stood up slightly and snatched the paper from in front of Song Qie. He unfolded it and looked at it seriously for a moment. His gaze landed on Lu Beihuai, and he suddenly laughed: “A 3?”

“What are you laughing at?”

Shen Tingsi looked up at Song Qie. Seeing the boy’s suddenly cold face, he smiled helplessly: “Song-Song, what’s up with you? I can’t even talk about Lu Beihuai anymore? Since when did you become so protective of him?”

Song Qie gripped his pen, his fingertips turning white from the pressure. He controlled his expression to show no change. He met Shen Tingsi’s gaze: “Lu Beihuai got a 3. What did you get? A 5?”

Shen Tingsi’s expression clearly changed. He obviously didn’t expect Song Qie to take it so seriously, and those words hit him right where it hurt. He retracted his smile, tossed the paper back on the desk, and leaned back carelessly in his chair. With a thud, he put his long legs directly onto Lu Beihuai’s desk.

His face was indeed refined and handsome, but his behavior was pure scum—full of insult and provocation.

Song Qie then looked at Xie Jingchu, who was still leaning over his paper. After two seconds of silence, he said: “And you? Did you get a 5?”

Xie Jingchu: “…?” He raised an eyebrow and sat up.

Finally, Song Qie turned his gaze to the right, to Zhou Ming, who was sitting next to Lu Beihuai. This guy had pinched his face earlier—how rude. It made him so angry.

He looked at Zhou Ming and asked calmly: “And you? Did you get a 5?”

Clearly, those three simple sentences had directly enraged the “F3,” whose Calculus grades were their sore spot.

“Young Master, don’t be like that. I’m fine.” Lu Beihuai gently patted Song Qie’s back, his tone tender. He looked at the other three: “It’s okay. Don’t let your feelings for each other get hurt because of me. My grades really aren’t good enough; it’s only right to laugh.”

Song Qie glanced at Lu Beihuai. What a heartwarming ‘green tea’ guy. His mental fortitude was strong, he was perfectly tactful, and he knew how to play both sides.

It was truly something worth learning.

Learn it. Be tactful.

Seeing the other three looking at him with darkened faces, he coughed silently. He reached out and forcefully pushed Shen Tingsi’s legs off the desk, then took Lu Beihuai’s paper back: “Sit down, all of you. I’ll teach you how to do the problems.”

At worst, he’d carry them all the way to Harvard just to save his own life later.

This sentence was met with four silent gazes.

Song Qie pretended to be calm as he unfolded the paper. He lowered his eyes, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of the sheet. He muttered in a small voice: “…Learn if you want to, don’t if you don’t.”

The words were whispered softly, even carrying a slight pout of displeasure.

The afternoon light filled the classroom, surrounding the pink-haired boy sitting by the window. As he lowered his head, his bright red ears betrayed his nervous and awkward emotions. He was already born beautiful—fair and pretty—and with this expression, it was something the others had almost never seen.

He looked like a pink-and-white peach; the fine fuzz on his cheeks seemed to ripen under the sunlight as his face flushed.

Even that last sentence sounded like he was acting spoiled.

The crushes of youth are very pure. Who knows which detail suddenly struck a chord, but their hearts began to wander.

Shen Tingsi leaning back, Xie Jingchu leaning on the desk, and Zhou Ming sitting silently to the side. All of their gazes were fixed on the same person.

Just then, the sharp sound of a chair dragging across the floor broke the focused silence.

“Young Master, I’ll learn.” Lu Beihuai pulled his chair closer to Song Qie.

The warmth of his arm pressed through the thin shirt against Song Qie’s arm.

Song Qie felt Lu Beihuai pressing close. Seeing him so near, his heart rate suddenly accelerated. He gripped his pen and kept his eyes down, not looking at him. His pen tip touched the paper, leaving a small black dot: “Oh, okay.”

This scene suddenly provoked something.

Zhou Ming stood up with his hands in his pockets. His chair made a sharp screech as he rose. With a dark face, he said: “I’m leaving.”

“Be quieter.” Song Qie got goosebumps from the sharp sound and couldn’t help but look up at Zhou Ming.

Zhou Ming instinctively softened his movements, but as soon as he realized what he was doing, his face darkened again. He walked out without looking back, his silhouette appearing very displeased.

Lu Beihuai watched Zhou Ming walk out, then looked at Song Qie, who was actually starting to explain the problems to him. He thought to himself: Song Qie really seems to treat me differently. When everyone pushed chairs, Song Qie didn’t get angry at him, but he criticized Zhou Ming.

He suddenly felt he understood why Song Qie’s attitude had shifted 180 degrees these past few days.

Could it be that Song Qie had fallen for him?