The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 104

Cen Xiao ate the lunch that Li Rong had left behind. He wanted to feed Li Rong a little more, but Li Rong couldn’t manage another bite no matter what.

Li Rong laid on the bed, burying his nose in the blanket, and mumbled, “I’ll eat on the plane.”

In truth, he didn’t even want to smell the food.

Lying in bed, his mind wandered to Huang Baikang. He couldn’t sleep soundly, so he laid there with his eyes closed, lost in thought.

His fever had been suppressed by the medication, but his condition showed no signs of improvement.

Although he didn’t feel feverish anymore, his body was still weak and uncomfortable. This illness really came at the worst possible time.

At 5 p.m., before Cen Xiao could call him, Li Rong threw off the blanket and got out of bed.

Enduring the throbbing pain in his temples, he calmly said, “We should get going.”

Cen Xiao knew he hadn’t had any proper rest and felt reluctant, but didn’t know how to express it.

He handed Li Rong a down jacket and tidied up the trash himself.

Li Rong wrapped a scarf around his neck and stared intently at his phone screen.

He thought about calling Huang Baikang to check in, but worried it might interrupt his work. In the end, he sighed softly and put the phone back in his pocket.

In his pocket, aside from the phone, was the packet of fever medicine. He gently squeezed it, planning when he could take another pill without Cen Xiao noticing.

Cen Xiao said, “The driver’s waiting outside. Let’s go.”

Cen Xiao still used his family’s driver instead of the car provided by District Nine.

He explained it as disliking the noise of the government cars, finding them uncomfortable to ride in. But the real reason was that he didn’t trust strangers.

The driver smiled kindly when he saw Li Rong. “You’re here.”

The driver was familiar with Li Rong by now and knew that he shared an extraordinary relationship with Cen Xiao.

Li Rong, looking unwell, managed a weak smile and leaned back in the seat.

The flight from A City to Yangshi took two and a half hours. Since they had no luggage to check in, they didn’t need to spend much time waiting at the airport.

Cen’s family driver was much gentler than a regular taxi driver. At least Li Rong didn’t feel carsick.

Leaning against Cen Xiao’s shoulder, he rested all the way to the airport.

Yu Fuyan, Geng An, and a few others were already waiting at the airport. Yu Fuyan had changed early into a long-sleeved tracksuit and stuffed his down jacket into his suitcase.

Yangshi was in the south, where the temperature was still relatively warm. It would definitely be hot once they arrived.

Yu Fuyan asked, “Vice Captain Li, you don’t look well?”

Within their team, Li Rong’s authority was nearly equal to Cen Xiao’s, so they jokingly referred to him as the vice-captain. This nickname was strictly an internal affair and never mentioned publicly.

Li Rong shook his head. “I’m fine. But I probably won’t be up for much tonight. Tomorrow morning, when Meijiang Pharmaceuticals opens, we’ll head there.”

Yu Fuyan sighed, “Group Leader Han said we have at most ten days left. Does today count? If it does, do we only have nine days left?”

Li Rong raised an eyebrow.

He just found out that Han Jiang had set a final deadline, but apparently, Cen Xiao hadn’t told him to avoid making him anxious. 

It wasn’t all that surprising, though—initially, they had expected the process to take at least four months. Under pressure from certain parties, the personnel in District Six seemed intent on wrapping things up in three months by working overtime.

Geng An couldn’t help but interject, “With us all leaving together like this, the other teams will definitely notice. The question is how long we can keep it under wraps.”

Cen Xiao remained calm. “Don’t stress over things you can’t control.”

Geng An pressed on, “So… should we inform Group Leader Han now?”

He was torn. 

Normally, they should immediately report their progress to Han Jiang and rely on his support to coordinate the auxiliary teams in District Nine and provide assistance. 

But Captain Cen seemed to avoid involving anyone he could, even delaying reporting to Han Jiang for as long as possible.

While this helped maintain secrecy—there’s a saying that commanders in the field may disregard orders—Geng An knew that Cen Xiao’s actions might offend Han Jiang. 

Though Han Jiang held a higher position, Cen Xiao’s connections in District Three added a layer of complexity. In the end, it was uncertain who would have the upper hand.

As members of Cen Xiao’s team, assigned by Han Jiang, they were effectively excluded from Han Jiang’s inner circle of favorites. Their only option now was to follow Cen Xiao to the end.

Cen Xiao glanced at the time and replied nonchalantly, “I’m catching a flight; I don’t have time to report right now.”

With that, he casually switched off his phone, ensuring that even if Han Jiang caught wind of their movements, he couldn’t reach him.

Geng An: “….”

What choice did he have? He switched off his phone, too.

The others followed suit, switching to airplane mode out of a shared unease that Han Jiang might call.

Only Li Rong remained focused on his phone, distracted.

Cen Xiao frowned slightly as he glanced at Li Rong but said nothing. Instead, he tugged on Li Rong’s arm and led him through security.

By the time they reached the boarding gate, boarding had already begun.

Yu Fuyan hurried over to the queue, knowing that on busy flights, storage space for carry-on luggage could quickly run out.

Just then, Li Rong’s phone rang.

Geng An, startled, thought Han Jiang had called Li Rong instead, but then realized that was unlikely.

Li Rong checked the caller ID and suddenly looked invigorated. Patting Cen Xiao’s hand, he covered his ear with one hand and ran to a quiet corner.

“Huang Baikang!”

Huang Baikang’s breathing was heavy, his words punctuated by the sound of the cold northern wind howling through the phone.

“I’ve got… the information for you.”

Li Rong stood by a corner, facing the thick glass wall. He looked out at the dim sky, the airport’s flashing guidance lights, and the silhouettes of planes moving across the tarmac.

“Go ahead.”

Not far away, Cen Xiao stood watching Li Rong’s back. When Geng An asked if they should board, Cen Xiao waved them off, signaling for them to go ahead while he stayed behind to wait for Li Rong.

There were still thirty minutes before the flight was due to depart.

Huang Baikang swallowed hard, lit a cigarette against the wind, and took a deep drag.

“Jiang Sheng wasn’t murdered.”

Huang Baikang began with a clear conclusion.

Li Rong exhaled in relief. 

Talking to someone as sharp as Huang Baikang was always a comfort.

Huang Baikang coughed in the cold wind, taking two more drags before snuffing out the cigarette against the corner of a wall. 

He leaned against the wall, tucking a small knife into the oversized pocket of his jeans before rubbing his frostbitten hands together.

“Not only was Jiang Sheng not murdered, but he’d been bought off by Meijiang Pharmaceuticals. Isn’t his mother running a mooncake shop? Around last year, the shop handed out mooncake vouchers worth 3 million yuan—said to be a corporate order from a friend of Jiang Sheng. But no one ever redeemed the vouchers, and the money just flowed into their pockets. His son was also admitted to an elite middle school he otherwise couldn’t have qualified for academically—again, thanks to a ‘friend.’”

“As for why his family insists that Jiang Sheng was coerced to his death… well, it’s a ploy to squeeze more moral compensation out of District Nine. Jiang Sheng wasn’t on duty when the accident happened, so it’s hard to categorize it as a work-related incident. The family knows District Nine and the Blue Pivot have deep pockets, so they’re spinning this narrative to demand more.”

“The day he had his accident, he met with his family. His wife said he was especially excited, claiming he was about to strike it rich. He didn’t even have time to celebrate their wedding anniversary, saying he had to go out drinking with his friends. Upset, his wife took their child and went back to her parents’ house that same day. Jiang Sheng, clearly overjoyed and drunk, came home to an empty house. Hearing other couples arguing over house loans and wedding dowries, he felt a sense of superiority. That’s why he went to the balcony to watch the commotion. Who would have thought…”

“Hey, do you think District Nine gave him a memorial plaque?”

District Nine didn’t erect a plaque, but they did promote Jiang Sheng as an exemplary employee several times.

Li Rong: “Thanks. I’ll transfer the money to you right now.”

Huang Baikang chuckled, sniffling in the cold wind. “Hey, don’t you want to know how I got them to talk?”

Li Rong gave a soft laugh, his breath fogging up the glass wall and leaving a faint, blurry mist. “What difference does it make if I know or don’t know? Do you think I’d feel guilty?”

Huang Baikang: “Wouldn’t you?”

A teenager—calculating, deep-thinking, scheming—but still just a teenager.

There are always shadows one doesn’t want to face and dirty tricks one doesn’t want to acknowledge. Though, honestly, Huang Baikang didn’t see himself as dirty. The family was just too timid—he hadn’t even needed to do much.

Of course, teasing Li Rong was always a bonus.

Li Rong sighed and spoke slowly, “I have good relations with the police too, Huang Baikang. I told you I didn’t want to know your methods for your sake. For example, you shouldn’t have let me hear the sound of a knife scraping against a brick wall or a bicycle bumping over cobblestones and ringing its bell. You’re still in the alley, aren’t you? Aren’t you afraid they’ll realize and call a few neighbors to corner you? In these old alleys, everyone’s been neighbors for decades—close friends trump distant relatives here.”

Huang Baikang: “…”

A few seconds later, Huang Baikang hung up.

Li Rong smiled, transferred the money to him, and put away his phone.

As soon as he turned around, he couldn’t help but cough softly, his hand pressed against the glass wall, leaving a faint handprint.

Cen Xiao walked over quickly, trying to feel his forehead, but Li Rong instinctively dodged.

He could feel his fever rising but didn’t want to worry Cen Xiao. So, he quickly ran his fingers through his hair and changed the subject. “I have something important to tell you.”

Cen Xiao frowned slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes. But with the plane about to depart and everyone waiting for them, there was no room to delay.

He reluctantly lowered his hand. “What is it?”

Li Rong took the plane ticket from him and pulled him toward the boarding gate. “The team District Nine sent to investigate Meijiang Pharmaceuticals has all, without exception, fallen. Jiang Sheng’s death really was an accident—he simply couldn’t resist the temptation…”

As the staff was about to announce their names, Li Rong and Cen Xiao handed over their tickets and boarded the plane.

Before takeoff, Li Rong recounted to Cen Xiao everything Officer Chen Ping had told him and the details Huang Baikang had extracted from the relatives.

After finishing, Li Rong sneered. “He Dayong, that hypocrite, ultimately couldn’t bear to go to h*ll himself, so he resolved everything he could with money.”

Cen Xiao replied calmly, “But everything he does is murder.”

Murdering the health of innocent civilians. Murdering the hope of desperate patients.

With disdain on his face, Li Rong gritted his teeth. “As long as the people don’t die in front of him, as long as he doesn’t give the order to kill or personally stab someone, he can still justify himself. Even though countless people suffer delayed treatments due to Yuanhesheng’s negligence, He Dayong can still stand under the sun, smile for the camera, and clutch his cross while chewing on his hollow faith.”

Cen Xiao turned his gaze to Li Rong, noticing the unnatural flush on his face and the unrestrained hatred in his eyes. “Li Rong…”

But Li Rong seemed immersed in his own emotions, continuing bitterly, “And hypocrites like He Dayong aren’t the only ones. Those who recklessly slander, hurl insults, and even when they know they’re wrong, destroy people for the sake of their own pride. They never see themselves as executioners or murderers. Once the victim falls silent, they go on wielding their blades under the sun, singing praises of peace and justice while preparing for their next ‘righteous battle.'”

Cen Xiao pulled Li Rong into his arms, soothingly stroking the back of his neck. “We will clear your parents’ names. Soon. Be good.”

Li Rong rested his chin on Cen Xiao’s shoulder, feeling the comforting touch ease his tension.

Perhaps it was the fever making him feel so awful.

His chaotic thoughts and heightened emotions had caused such an intense reaction.

His vision blurred, and tears clung to his soft lashes. A bitter smile escaped as the burning droplets fell, soaking into Cen Xiao’s jacket.

“I just don’t understand,” Li Rong muttered. “How can someone like He Dayong still live well while my parents were forced to their deaths? If there really is a god, it must be blind and unjust!”

Cen Xiao replied gently, “It’s not the end yet. They will pay the price.”

“Their price,” Li Rong said, closing his eyes and biting his lip, “I will deliver it myself.”

Cen Xiao hugged him tightly. “Alright.”

As the plane ascended steadily, the cabin lights dimmed. Outside the window, the night was vast, dotted with faint stars and the silhouettes of mountain ridges.

It felt like all injustice was but a mist that would dissipate when daylight broke.

Gradually regaining control of his emotions, Li Rong tilted his chin away from Cen Xiao’s shoulder. Even the redness on his face faded.

He realized he’d cried a little too helplessly earlier. With Cen Xiao around, he seemed to have grown accustomed to seeking comfort.

“My outburst was because of the fever,” Li Rong explained seriously, damp lashes trembling. “The imbalance of dopamine and norepinephrine caused by illness makes such emotional instability common.”

Cen Xiao suppressed a laugh and nodded earnestly. “Of course, it’s all because of the fever. My brilliant strategist would never lose composure over anger.”

“…” Li Rong paused, his damp eyes glaring at him.

Cen Xiao decided not to tease further and changed the subject. “By the way, when did you contact Chen Ping and Huang Baikang for help? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Li Rong withdrew his defiant gaze and murmured, “…Two days ago, during the school fitness test.”

Cen Xiao stared at him silently for a long moment before replying meaningfully, “I see.”

As the plane climbed, Li Rong began to feel unwell again.

He tugged his hat low over his face, turned away, and hid his expression from Cen Xiao.

Luckily, this time he drifted into a deep sleep.

Finally hearing Huang Baikang’s news had brought him peace. Exhausted from the day, he fell into a dreamless slumber.

When he awoke, someone was gently nudging him, urging him to open his eyes.

His eyes felt as though they had been soaked in lemon juice, stinging and unbearably sore.

Squinting toward the airplane window, he noticed the plane had already come to a stop, ready for disembarkation.

“So soon?” Li Rong murmured.

Though his eyes ached, he felt significantly more energized.

Cen Xiao lifted the brim of his hat. “You didn’t even have dinner. Hungry?”

Li Rong shook his head, stretching lazily before leaning back into the seat and then collapsing onto Cen Xiao’s shoulder.

“Just woke up. Don’t feel like eating.”

Truthfully, he didn’t even feel like moving. If the flight had been longer, he might have gotten an even better sleep.

Cen Xiao, noticing Li Rong’s improved spirits, leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice: “Why is it that no matter the lifetime, I can’t escape coaxing you to eat?”

His tone carried a lover’s complaint—half-joking, half-serious, but unmistakably affectionate.

Li Rong glanced at Cen Xiao’s profile, his gaze flickering with mischief, almost smiling. A few moments later, he deliberately suppressed his amusement and turned his eyes away in mock annoyance.

“When did that ever happen? I don’t recall.”

He knew Cen Xiao was referring to their past life when their relationship had been fraught, and Li Rong had deliberately refused to eat meals with him.

Back then, his personality was more extreme, even bordering on self-destructive.

Li Rong had believed his pain and suffering were the only way to honor the memory of those who had passed. Even though he was aware of how unhealthy this mindset was, he couldn’t break free from it.

Cen Xiao, in his efforts to get Li Rong to eat properly, had tried everything—even giving up his own favorite spicy dishes and having meals prepared entirely to suit Li Rong’s taste.

As the cabin doors opened, the humid, warm air of Yangshi rushed in, instantly coating their skin with a sticky layer of moisture.

But to Li Rong, the temperature felt oddly comforting.

From ahead, Yu Fuyan craned his neck anxiously to look at Cen Xiao. “Captain, Group Leader Han called all of us!”

Cen Xiao casually powered on his phone. Sure enough, a flurry of missed calls and messages from Han Jiang popped up one after another:

[Han Jiang: Why didn’t you report going to Yang City?]

[Han Jiang: What did you find?]

[Han Jiang: Call me back as soon as the plane lands!]

Cen Xiao seemed entirely unfazed, slipping his phone into his pocket. Patting Li Rong’s hair, he said, “Let’s go.”

Li Rong also took out his phone, intending to check the local temperature. Instead, he found his screen cluttered with messages:

[Zhang Zhaohe: Feeling better? Did you go to the campus clinic?]

[Zhang Zhaohe: Send me a picture of your sick leave slip so I can explain it to the department head.]

[Zhang Zhaohe: … Did you trick me again?]

[Zhang Zhaohe: It’s exam week already. Sigh.]