"Brother Jian, are you working overtime tonight?" Qin Xiangnuan asked Jian Zhiqing, already concerned about his stomach issues—if he had to work overtime, wouldn't he go hungry without a meal?
"I'll have to work a bit," Jian Zhiqing's expression seemed rather helpless, "I'll probably need to do overtime for a while. Oh, here, take this." Jian Zhiqing took out a medical record from his person. "Give this to your teacher, and you won't have to do military training."
Qin Xiangnuan took it and glanced through it; doctors' handwriting is always so hard to read. She wasn't sure what ailment the doctor had concocted for her, but it seemed like she could make it out: probably hypoglycemia, prone to fainting or something like that, shouldn't exercise too much, nor should she be exposed to too much sunlight.
Just that was enough for Qin Xiangnuan to skip the military training.
