The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 111

Li Rong struggled to calm his emotions.

The fog obscuring the truth had finally parted, revealing a sliver of light. He wanted to believe He Dayong was telling the truth—that Suhe Biotech was indeed the mastermind behind his parents’ tragedy.

He had to believe it was true. He needed hope.

The first time he’d heard the name Luyinxu was during the first semester of his second year in high school, on a weekend.

It was Gu Nong’s birthday, and after school, Li Rong had gone out of his way to a shopping plaza to buy her a collection of modern art prints.

The book had just been released and was highly popular, recommended by many artists. He’d been keeping an eye on it, confident it would be something she liked.

While at the mall, he noticed a small shop selling cotton candy.

He thought, Mom’s still a girl at heart. She might like this simple, sweet treat, too.

With his striking appearance, walking down the street holding a Mickey Mouse-shaped cotton candy drew many stares.

At the time, Li Rong was aloof and reserved, and the attention made him intensely uncomfortable.

He thought, If I get home and my parents are out celebrating the birthday somewhere else, this will all have been for nothing.

Fortunately, they weren’t.

When he opened the door, he saw his parents embracing, visibly excited—beyond what a birthday celebration would warrant.

Standing in the doorway, Li Rong smiled faintly and turned his gaze away, not wanting to interrupt their moment of affection.

He overheard Gu Nong’s soft voice saying to Li Qingli, “Luyinxu is the best gift—not just for me, but for all the sick children.”

Li Qingli gently kissed her cheek, his eyes filled with satisfaction. While stroking her hair, he murmured, “I hope this gift can soon reach those suffering families, so they can experience happiness like ours.”

Gu Nong’s eyes sparkled with determination as she smiled sweetly. “It will be soon, my superhero.”

At the time, Li Rong had little interest in his parents’ work or field of expertise.

Li Qingli and Gu Nong respected that, never pressuring him to take on extra academic burdens. They always believed in letting children do age-appropriate things, as that was the key to happiness.

So when he heard about Luyinxu, he simply thought, Oh, it must be one of their work projects, no different than him winning first place in school or receiving citywide student honors.

But still, it felt beautiful.

The living room was bathed in warm yellow light, filled with the aroma of roast chicken. The microwave beeped as it finished reheating food. International news played softly on the TV. The clock ticked steadily. His parents were in an embrace, and he stood at the doorway holding a childish yet endearing cotton candy, the cold from outside gradually replaced by the warmth of home.

The cotton candy melted silently, its sweetness mingling with the air.

Such a scene had once been etched deeply in his memory, yet he hardly dared to revisit it.

Then came the New Year.

The second time he heard about Luyinxu was in Li Qingli’s study.

Li Qingli had been discussing the Phase 1 trial site with someone, his expression solemn: “It must be a trustworthy hospital. Volunteer selection must be stringent. This is only the first phase, with a risk of failure. The participants are all children, and they must be free of any preexisting conditions. Later, we’ll also need to study whether Luyinxu interacts with other conditions.”

“I understand the public’s expectations and trust in me, but the Phase I trial will still be limited to 200 participants. It’s not that we’re unwilling to provide more people with treatment, but I will explain this issue in an interview in a few days. Once the drug is approved and on the market, the pricing will definitely satisfy everyone.”

“Please don’t rush, don’t rush. I hope all the children can be freed from their suffering, and I fully understand everyone’s feelings.”

Standing outside the study, holding a glass of water, Li Rong waited for Li Qingli to finish his call. When the call ended, he casually asked, “Is the Phase I trial happening so soon?”

Li Qingli, having just finished explaining on the phone, was parched. He grabbed the glass from Li Rong and gulped down a couple of sips, sighing, “Yes, but I wish it could happen even faster. The sooner the new drug is available, the more people it can save.”

Li Rong thought his father was practically a saint, brimming with compassion from who-knows-where.

He recalled a school assignment in elementary school where they had to write about their parents. Most classmates wrote about small moments with their parents, expressing gratitude for their love, and earned high marks.

He, however, wrote extensively about his parents’ ambitions and their dedication to saving lives, only to receive feedback from the teacher to focus on everyday life and avoid sounding overly grandiose.

“Alright, great saint, I hope your wish comes true.” Li Rong replied perfunctorily as he took back the now-empty glass.

Li Qingli chuckled and lightly tapped his son’s forehead. “One day, if you’re ever in my position, you’ll understand the responsibilities I bear.”

Li Rong straightened his face, shaking his head solemnly. “I have no intention of replacing you.”

In his mind, he believed he could never replace his parents.

Their passion for science and love for life were heights he could feel but never reach.

He had thought about it seriously—perhaps, as opposites attract, he had grown into a person who was somewhat detached.

Moreover, back then, he believed his parents would always be there, standing at the pinnacle, doing what they thought was right.

He never imagined a day when everything would collapse, nor did he ever think he would walk down the same path.

Eventually, Luyinxu was selected for Phase I trials at Jiajia Central Hospital, and disaster soon followed.

During the trial, the feedback from participants was poor.

That period saw Li Qingli and Gu Nong overwhelmed with analyzing endless trial data, often spending entire nights in the office. Li Rong would come home every day to find the living room dark.

Then one day, the first death occurred.

It was as though a Pandora’s box had been opened. The second, third… ultimately, twenty people died.

Of the 200 participants in the trial, 20 children lost their lives. While technically, the failure of a new drug is not unusual, ethically, society could not accept the deaths of innocent children, especially ones under public and media scrutiny.

Public outrage erupted, engulfing his parents like a tidal wave.

It was still a sunny day—clear skies, no wind, the sunlight warm and gentle, with soft, pure clouds drifting by. The day seemed no different from any other, yet everything was drastically different.

The world felt as though it had been turned upside down.

The respect, praise, and trust from the past vanished, replaced by curses, insults, and hatred. It was as if his parents had become unforgivable villains who had deceived everyone’s feelings.

Under immense public pressure, their corporate collaborators began severing ties. Waves of bad news surged in—funding cuts, massive lawsuits, unrelenting criticism, and the relentless condemnation of countless media outlets.

Then came the rumors. The fall of a revered scientist was the drama everyone relished, as if Li Qingli and Gu Nong had to be terrible people to have created such a harmful drug.

Even the most absurd and exaggerated rumors gained believers.

And soon after, his parents were gone—buried amidst unfounded accusations and the deafening roar of public scorn.

It all happened so quickly, so abruptly, that it felt like closing his eyes could take him back to those warm birthdays and brief conversations in the study.

At 17, Li Rong couldn’t comprehend a world like this.

His parents had been good—so good. He didn’t understand why they met such a fate.

No one could answer his “why.” Catastrophes don’t discriminate based on past deeds; their arrival is random. All one can do is save themselves.

Gathering the courage and strength to self-rescue early allows one to see a glimmer of light sooner. 

Holding onto a belief in that light gives the strength to live bravely, though bravery is an incredibly difficult thing. The journey is paved with countless obstacles and unending cries.

He could only close his eyes and leave behind those weathered bones and sorrowful wails. He had to believe that what he sought wasn’t an illusion or a lie.

Thankfully, thankfully.

He had waited for this day.

Li Rong didn’t know how he managed to restrain his turbulent emotions in front of He Dayong, but he did.

He slowly unclenched his fists, his face calm and detached. “What evidence do you have?”

At this point, everything was still speculation—a bow drawn but not yet released. Evidence was the cold, hard blade that could cut through the enemy and exact justice.

He Dayong, oblivious to Li Rong’s identity, spread his hands in a wry smile. “Evidence? I didn’t keep any. Back then, I was completely loyal to Suhe Biotech, never imagining they’d fall. I knew where they sent the drugs, and that was enough. Knowing more would’ve just gotten me crushed like dust, according to Zheng Zhupan. I wasn’t about to take that risk.”

Li Rong sneered, cutting him off. “Please. Someone as cunning as you wouldn’t leave yourself without a safety net.”

He Dayong pouted. “Honestly, there’s not much. Just a photo the pharmacist I bribed took of the counterfeit Jiaketing being delivered to Jiajia Central Hospital. But he was too scared to take a video, and the photo’s pretty blurry.”

“Additionally, after Zheng Zhupan had someone monitor me dismantling the production line, he deleted the surveillance footage. But I was cautious and backed up the footage in advance. However… this also doesn’t put me in a good position.”

The surveillance footage captured the production process of the counterfeit Jiaketing. Meijiang Pharmaceutical’s production practices had never been compliant, and under Zheng Zhupan’s instructions, the production of counterfeit Jiaketing was even more careless, with dire sanitary conditions.

If this footage were to be exposed, it would implicate Meijiang as well. Initially, he didn’t plan to reveal it.

But upon reconsidering, having already disclosed Suhe Biotech’s secrets, it was as though he had jumped off a sinking ship. If he didn’t place full trust in the Hongsuo Research Institute and regions 1, 3, 4, and 9, his situation would become precarious. Historical precedent taught him that choosing a side offered a chance of survival, whereas fence-sitters rarely met a good end.

Li Rong extended his hand, relaxed his tightly clenched jaw, and said each word deliberately, “Hand over the evidence to us.”

His palm was pale, with only a faint redness at the fingertips. If a palm reader saw the lines on his hand, they would solemnly warn him, “Your palm signifies a life of trials and tribulations.”

He Dayong swallowed hard. “If I give it to you, what do you plan to do with it?”

Cen Xiao replied in a deep voice, “What you’ve told us today won’t be disclosed. We’re still gathering evidence of Suhe Biotech’s involvement in another malicious incident. Once the facts are clear, they will face consequences. Rest assured, we won’t forget the evidence you’ve provided.”

He Dayong blinked and wiped the cold sweat from his chin. “Another… another malicious incident?”

Cen Xiao: “You don’t need to know about that.”

He Dayong cautiously asked, “Is it… related to the Li Qingli incident?”

Both Cen Xiao and Li Rong tensed simultaneously, unsure of how to respond.

He Dayong, being perceptive, understood their silence. “I’m just speculating. It’s mainly because I once had a meal in A City with Zheng Zhupan and the others. During that dinner, they mentioned Li Qingli. They seemed to say Li Qingli was researching some drug for bacterial progeria and was working on a cure for the disease.”

“Zheng Zhupan called Li Qingli an idiot, saying that if this disease were cured, they’d all be out of business. He even brought up an example of a foreign pharmaceutical company that developed a drug so effective it eradicated the disease. But when they couldn’t come up with another strong product, the company nearly went under. Everyone at the table followed suit, cursing Li Qingli as a fool. But I didn’t join in because I have relatives in my rural hometown who suffer from that disease—it’s pretty tragic.”

“Then Zheng Zhupan said that anyone who crossed him would meet their end and that he’d take down Li Qingli sooner or later. We all thought he was just venting. Zheng Zhupan seemed to be in a good mood, joking and laughing, so we didn’t take it seriously. But later… something really did happen to Li Qingli’s family.”

He Dayong paused, suddenly unable to meet Li Rong’s gaze.

Those eyes were too clear, too bright, as if all filth and pettiness were laid bare before them, leaving nowhere to hide.

He Dayong knew the words he spoke would be devastating to a young biochemistry student.

Suhe Biotech was the industry’s leader, an authority, a trailblazer—a company held up as ethical and admirable.

Revealing these behind-the-scenes truths would utterly shatter someone’s faith.

But perhaps, Li Rong no longer had such faith in his eyes.

What a pity. Such an outstanding young man could have contributed even more in a fair and just environment.

Then again… maybe not. The person standing before him might be capable of changing the current situation.

He Dayong avoided Li Rong’s gaze and fixed his eyes on a crack in the marble floor, continuing, “I’m not an idiot. I’ve had my suspicions about certain things. How could it be such a coincidence, being able to predict even Li Qingli’s death?

Sigh… Li Qingli and Gu Nong were just unlucky. Anyone with eyes could see they were innocent, but who would dare speak up? In that kind of environment.”

“Actually, I thought this matter should’ve been investigated long ago—by the Hongsuo Research Institute, by the Ghost Eye Unit in District Nine. But strangely, even after a year, there’s been no movement. Now that you’re looking into Suhe Biotech, I finally understand. I knew it—Hongsuo wouldn’t let it slide after losing its star researcher, right?”

Li Rong wanted to laugh but couldn’t.

Hearing such naïve words from He Dayong only filled him with sadness.

Everyone believed Hongsuo Research Institute wouldn’t let it go, but the truth was, no one cared.

Everyone thought the Ghost Eye Unit would investigate for malicious corporate competition, but no one did.

If he hadn’t survived, if there weren’t Cen Xiao, this case would’ve ended here, forever recorded in history with such a tragic conclusion.

Cen Xiao said coldly, “The evidence.”

He Dayong hesitated, then sighed and moved behind his desk.

He squatted down, his obese body straining against his trousers, which looked about to split. With difficulty, he pried open a drawer’s sliding door and pulled out a safe.

Covering his hand to enter the password, he opened it with a click. From inside, He Dayong retrieved a USB drive.

Handing the footage and photos to Cen Xiao, he looked longingly at the items as if parting with something precious.

Even though he had countless backups, he couldn’t shake the feeling that crossing this line would change many things.

He Dayong asked again, “Can you ensure nothing happens to Meijiang Pharmaceuticals?”

After Cen Xiao verified the evidence, Li Rong replied coolly, “He Dayong, I won’t hand over the evidence I uncover to District Nine. You should turn yourself in to the relevant authorities, confess the facts, and accept punishment. If you genuinely regret your actions, leniency may be shown, and there’s still a chance for redemption.”

He Dayong jumped up instantly upon hearing this, causing the floor to tremble.

His face flushed red as he waved his arms angrily, shouting, “Why should I turn myself in? Didn’t you say you could protect my Meijiang Pharmaceutical? How can I be safe if I surrender? They’ll sentence me to death!”

Cen Xiao’s eyes turned cold. He raised his hand to shield Li Rong, who stood behind him, worried that He Dayong’s outburst might accidentally harm him.

However, Li Rong resolutely pushed Cen Xiao’s hand aside. He then pulled out a cross necklace from his pocket, which he had been holding onto for quite some time.

Using one finger, he hooked the necklace and raised it in front of He Dayong.

Seeing the familiar cross, He Dayong’s fury instantly dissipated. He stared blankly at it.

This was the cross he had prayed for to bless his son. He had instructed He Changfeng to always wear it.

Li Rong gently moved his fingers, causing the cross to sway naturally in the air. Under the sunlight, the green diamond on it radiated a serene brilliance.

“I borrowed it from He Changfeng. He actually listens to you. Even though he doesn’t share your faith, he has always kept this cross close to him. You, who claim to have faith, have done countless vile and conscience-less deeds, yet he, without faith, still holds onto hope for a brighter future.”

Li Rong spoke softly, “He Dayong, what kind of father do you want to be? What kind of world do you want He Changfeng to live in? That’s for you to decide.”

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