The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 134

“Zhang Zhaohe?” Geng An gasped, momentarily stunned.

In his memory, Zhang Zhaohe was the least suitable person to be a teacher—rigid, timid, and weak. Most of the male students had, at some point, ‘bullied’ him to varying degrees.

Initially, they were cautious. But once they realized Zhang Zhaohe neither cared nor had the authority to enforce discipline, they grew bolder, making up increasingly absurd excuses to skip class.

Before exams, some students even snatched Zhang Zhaohe’s teaching materials in an attempt to glean hints about the test content.

The materials, repeatedly handled roughly, ended up with a torn cover and crumpled pages.

Even then, Zhang Zhaohe didn’t get angry. He just muttered helplessly, “Give me back the book, there’s nothing exam-related in it.”

This scene was etched clearly in Geng An’s memory. At the time, he had been standing right next to the student who had fought over the book. Back then, he didn’t pity Zhang Zhaohe; instead, he despised the teacher’s incompetence.

Allowing a class to fall into such chaos was a betrayal of responsibility to both oneself and one’s students.

This was one reason he loathed biochemistry and ultimately chose another field. Zhang Zhaohe’s influence likely played a part in that decision.

He couldn’t even imagine Zhang Zhaohe threatening anyone, let alone someone like Jiang Zheng, the class goddess who had been so dazzling at the time.

Jiang Zheng nodded emphatically, her thumbnail scraping hard against her index finger, leaving a red mark on its side.

“Unbelievable, isn’t it? I couldn’t believe it either.”

Geng An immediately shot a glance at Li Rong, who was currently in Zhang Zhaohe’s class. 

But he noticed that Li Rong looked calm, entirely unshaken, as if he had long known about Zhang Zhaohe’s hidden side.

In reality, Li Rong was far from calm.

It wasn’t Zhang Zhaohe’s other side that surprised him, but rather that he had finally uncovered the connection between Zhang Zhaohe and Han Jiang.

One was the esteemed leader of the Ghost Eye Group, the other an unremarkable, unknown lecturer. By all logic, they shouldn’t have any reason to associate with one another.

However, if the matter involved Han Ying and Jiang Zheng, it all made sense. Zhang Zhaohe was Jiang Zheng’s homeroom teacher, so he must have had access to all the information.

The only question was whether the two were colluding willingly or if Han Jiang had coerced Zhang Zhaohe.

Li Rong remained quiet for a long time before finally speaking: “He threatened you like that, and you didn’t think of reporting it to the school?”

His tone was gentle, but it stirred up the long-buried resentment and helplessness within Jiang Zheng, so she didn’t even mind that Li Rong was technically an outsider in the situation.

To her, she had become the confessor, while Li Rong and Geng An had taken on the role of listeners.

At this point in her life, there weren’t many people willing to listen to her talk about these old, trivial matters.

Feeling parched, Jiang Zheng picked up the teapot herself and poured a cup of tea. The tea wasn’t too cold anymore, so she drank it all in one gulp to steady her emotions. “I thought about it, but I didn’t dare. Han Jiang was involved too, and he said something similar to me. When Han Jiang came to A University, even the principal greeted him personally. How could the school ever stand up for me? Besides, I had no evidence.”

Jiang Zheng lowered her head. She had once been so proud—how could she resign herself to being threatened? But she truly couldn’t think of a solution. She had even considered contacting the media to expose the matter, only for the reporters to tell her that without recordings or concrete evidence, the media would be the ones sued if the story broke.

Geng An felt a pang of sympathy for Jiang Zheng.

At the core of it, Jiang Zheng had only been in a relationship. Who could have predicted it would spiral into something like this?

Back then, she was such an outstanding goddess. If her life trajectory hadn’t been altered by Han Ying, perhaps she would be living a happy life now.

Geng An said, “But I still don’t understand. You and Han Ying were in a good relationship. Even if you were graduating or if Han Jiang didn’t want you two together, breaking up would have been enough. Why did he have to go abroad? Honestly… during the investigation, my friend found out that all traces of Han Ying’s time at University A had been erased.”

Hearing this, Jiang Zheng gave a bitter smile. “Is that so? Erased entirely. How brazen of them.”

It wasn’t just Han Ying’s traces at University A that had been erased but also all evidence of their relationship. They were so unscrupulous, wielding power mercilessly against someone as powerless as her. To Han Jiang, she was nothing more than an ant he could crush at will.

What Geng An wanted to know wasn’t this, but he dared not press Jiang Zheng further.

He knew something deeply damaging must have happened back then, forcing Han Jiang to use every ounce of his influence to cover up and erase the truth.

This thought brought him back to their investigation of Meijiang Pharmaceuticals. He recalled how He Dayong had hired a professional PR team to scrub all traces of negative news about Yuanhesheng from the internet.

The hypocrisy disgusted Geng An. Han Jiang acted so righteously in dealing with Meijiang Pharmaceuticals, but wasn’t he guilty of the very same behavior?

Li Rong rang a bell to call the teahouse owner and ordered a matcha-flavored cake.

Before long, the delicately made cake was served. Li Rong gently pushed it toward Jiang Zheng.

“Don’t blame yourself. You’re neither weak nor incapable. You’re smart, and you knew how to protect yourself. That was the best choice you could have made at the time. Even after enduring such harm, you’ve continued working hard and loving life. You’ve done remarkably well.”

Li Rong’s voice was soft and nuanced, paired with his genuine and kind eyes. The delicate sweetness of the cake added a comforting air to his words, which felt like a warm blanket gently covering Jiang Zheng.

Jiang Zheng suddenly teared up, and this time, she didn’t awkwardly turn away to hide it. Instead, she allowed herself to show her vulnerability in front of Li Rong.

She hadn’t known anyone could see her this way—that anyone could think she was doing well.

Having gone through a long period of self-loathing, Jiang Zheng desperately needed someone’s praise. Li Rong’s words meant the world to her.

As he looked at her, it was as if Li Rong could see through time, back to the young girl crushed beneath authority’s weight.

She must have cried helplessly like this before. She must have tried to rise up and fight for her rights, only to be met with dead ends. She had resisted, but she had failed.

Effort doesn’t guarantee a favorable outcome, but as long as one is alive, the struggle isn’t over.

Li Rong pulled out a tissue, handed it to Jiang Zheng, and spoke slowly: “To achieve mastery in any endeavor, one must first understand its nature and eliminate fear. Only then can they plan carefully and act steadily. You still have a chance.”

Jiang Zheng’s eyes shot up to meet his, staring at him in a daze. She even forgot to take the tissue from his hand.

Only now did she realize that although she seemed to be seeking help from Geng An, it was this graceful young man in front of her who held the reins.

He could even… steer her emotions.

Logically, Jiang Zheng knew she should accept her circumstances and focus on her life without revisiting the past from over a decade ago. Yet, Li Rong’s words stirred something within her, igniting a light in her once-stagnant existence.

To live, one needs a goal. Only with something to strive for can one truly feel alive.

For years, she had wanted to see those who once threatened her pay the price. Yet, they were so powerful that no matter what she did, she couldn’t bring them down.

She also knew that for the two years after graduation, Han Jiang had assigned people to monitor her. It wasn’t until much later, when she had proven herself to be “obedient” and enough time had passed, that they let their guard down.

Why did she have to endure all this? Besides, back then… it wasn’t entirely her fault.

Geng An leaned forward slightly, a glint of excitement in his eyes, and spoke with a hint of urgency: “If you trust me, you can tell me what really happened back then. Don’t worry, in District Nine, the rules allow for subordinates to challenge their superiors. Even an ordinary employee like me has the chance to bring Han Jiang down.”

Jiang Zheng looked deeply into Geng An’s eyes but said nothing.

She used the tissue to dry her tears, then picked up a spoon and took a bite of the matcha cake.

The cake had layers, with a filling of red bean paste. The sponge was especially soft, likely mixed with cheese, and the cream wasn’t overly sweet—rather, it carried a faint hint of saltiness.

As the three flavors intertwined on the palate, it turned out to be surprisingly delicious.

Jiang Zheng lightly curved her lips into a smile and set the spoon back onto the dessert plate.

Before coming to the teahouse, Geng An had asked Li Rong how to tactfully convey to Jiang Zheng that they had the ability to stand up to Han Jiang.

Li Rong had been silent for a moment before replying, “Say it with desire.”

Someone who has been through deceit and oppression becomes especially cautious and finds it hard to trust others completely.

In her eyes, there were no more purely good people—only shared interests could briefly align people into the same camp.

Geng An’s “interest” was in bringing down Han Jiang and replacing him.

Such a tempting proposition was the only way to convince Jiang Zheng that Geng An would risk everything for her cause and exert every effort, giving her the confidence to reveal her secrets fully.

That was why Geng An’s urgency and the desire in his eyes when he pressed her about the past were so palpable.

Jiang Zheng noticed this. A trace of mockery flickered in her gaze, but after the mockery came a sense of calm.

The sweetness of that bite of cake seemed to momentarily heal her vulnerability. Straightening her back, Jiang Zheng moved her gaze away from Geng An’s face and looked toward the glass window streaked with water droplets.

Outside, the sky had grown overcast without anyone noticing. Clouds obscured the already faint sunlight, casting shallow shadows on the pale, frozen ground.

“It all started with something small, something unspeakably embarrassing,” she said slowly, her voice steady, as if she were sinking into the icy depths of her memories.

Her tone was filled with helplessness, yet she remained composed. Stripped of emotion, the past seemed absurd and laughable in hindsight. But the events had happened, spiraling out of control and altering everyone’s trajectories.

“And later, we wronged someone.”

Li Rong’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but he made no visible reaction, using the tissue Jiang Zheng had declined earlier to wipe the edge of the table.

He already had a suspicion in his mind, and his instincts told him it was accurate.

The chaotic and intertwined threads in his head were beginning to form a closed loop, bit by bit.

Jiang Zheng spoke with a hint of guilt in her voice.

For someone who had suffered oppression, there was a sorrowful undertone when mentioning another person who had been harmed because of it.

“To cover up one mistake, a bigger mistake had to be made. To ensure that the wronged person carried a burden of guilt that didn’t belong to her, they brazenly deleted surveillance footage, made arbitrary judgments, silenced all dissent, and denied any opportunity for rebuttal. They crushed the clamor of voices in the crowd. Back then, I was a terrified participant and a beneficiary. I didn’t dare to speak up. But later, I became one of those voices that needed to be silenced. And when that happened, no one spoke up for me.”

She paused, her expression distant, as if lost in a memory that still stung.

“More than ten years have passed, but I think I still remember her name. She was a lab assistant. One time during a lab class, I suddenly… had terrible stomach cramps, and she lent me a sanitary pad. Her name was Xu Tanghui.”