The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 136

Jiang Zheng bit her lip, biting so hard it drew blood. She quickly realized there was no way out for her.

She had agreed to meet Geng An out of anger and resentment. Consumed by fury and hatred, she divulged secrets she had sworn to keep. In her anger, the fear lingering in her memory was dulled.

But as she calmed down, she realized there were still unspeakable pains and concerns she hadn’t voiced.

Now, however, it was too late for that.

Li Rong’s words felt like a bucket of cold water poured over her, forcing her out of the comforting lies she had built for herself and making her confront the tragic realities of her and others’ lives.

Facing the truth was excruciating. Jiang Zheng was almost overcome with humiliation and anger. Fortunately, she was no longer the impulsive person she once was; time had worn away almost all her sharp edges.

Now, she had to make a decision: either make the Han family pay the price or continue living a hopeless, humiliating life.

Finally, Jiang Zheng mustered the courage, swallowed her pride, and said quietly, “Back then, I… I got pregnant. It was from that night in the lab.”

After speaking, Jiang Zheng turned her head away in shame.

Geng An gasped, unable to conceal his shock and disbelief.

Li Rong, however, withdrew his stern gaze and looked at Jiang Zheng coldly.

“Did you give birth?”

Jiang Zheng spat angrily, “Of course not! I got rid of it. I didn’t even realize until after three months. By then, Han Ying had already abandoned me and gone abroad. Meanwhile, Zhang Zhaohe was keeping a close eye on me at school. I didn’t dare let them find out. I was lucky I was so thin; my belly didn’t show much.”

Geng An frowned. “How did you not realize for three months? You—”

Jiang Zheng answered numbly, “How would someone pregnant for the first time know what pregnancy feels like? As for missing my period, I thought it was because of the stress I’d been under and that things would go back to normal after graduation. It wasn’t until my lower abdomen started to swell that I realized something was wrong.”

Even when she sensed something was wrong, she clung to self-deception, convincing herself she had just gained weight.

Later, when she could no longer deceive herself, she was left in a state of terror, not knowing what to do.

As time passed, she still didn’t know how she managed to get through that period. Countless times, she thought of ending her life, but fear always held her back.

No one knew what she had endured. She had to put on a brave face and smile in front of her classmates.

Li Rong asked, “Since they were always monitoring you, didn’t they notice when you went to have the surgery?”

Jiang Zheng pressed her lips tightly together and, after a pause, let out a sigh. “Both my parents are doctors at Jiajia Central Hospital. My mom works in obstetrics and gynecology, and my dad in pediatrics. It was perfectly reasonable for me to visit them at the hospital. My parents secretly performed the surgery on me themselves and even did a DNA test—it was all very easy.”

Geng An was left speechless. What had happened to Jiang Zheng was far more complicated than he had imagined.

Jiajia Central Hospital.

Li Rong’s ears perked up at the mention of the name, his sensitivity immediately heightened.

“So, your parents knew about it in the end,” Li Rong said.

Jiang Zheng had already laid bare the most humiliating part of her past, and she had nothing more to hide.

“Yes. My parents were very disappointed and angry. My dad was so furious he nearly had a stroke. But back then, my mental state was terrible—especially after the test results came out. Calculating the embryo’s size, it matched exactly with that night… They were afraid I’d truly kill myself, so they didn’t dare say too much. I was lost, completely drained, and it was my parents who carefully thought things through. They arranged for the DNA report and kept it safe. If I’d told my parents about everything from the beginning, they would never have let me agree to Han Jiang’s demands.”

Jiang Zheng’s parents were much more meticulous than she was. After discovering that all the photos and information on Jiang Zheng’s phone had been forcibly deleted, they knew they had to keep evidence of her past relationship with Han Ying.

Although Han Jiang and Zhang Zhaohe had used deception to clear Jiang Zheng’s involvement, she hadn’t gained anything from the situation—in fact, she’d suffered significant harm.

They didn’t know when this evidence would come in handy. Perhaps it never would. But they prepared for the worst, unwilling to let Jiang Zheng remain in a passive position.

This matter was a secret Jiang Zheng had shared with no one—not even the wealthy man she later dated.

Suddenly, Li Rong asked, “Are your parents still working at Jiajia Central Hospital?”

Jiang Zheng was taken aback by the question but still answered, “My mom is still in obstetrics and gynecology. My dad, after failing to secure a department head position for years, became disheartened and retired from pediatrics last year. The hospital director wanted to rehire him, but he declined.”

“Last year,” Li Rong murmured under his breath.

The first-phase trials of the Luyinxu project had been conducted in the pediatrics department. When the trials were underway, Jiang Zheng’s father had still been working there. He might not have been a department head, but he was a highly experienced doctor.

Jiang Zheng took a deep breath. “I still have the DNA report, but I can’t give it to you now. If you can show me you have the ability to bring down Han Jiang, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

After saying this, Jiang Zheng wiped the tears from her face, brushed her hair back, and pressed her hands against the table to stand up.

Geng An couldn’t help but ask, “Old classmate, you’ve been out of touch with Han Ying for so many years and were even engaged to someone else. How did you end up getting deceived by him again?”

Jiang Zheng paused, her gaze dimming. “I’ve already broken up with my fiancé. At my age, I needed something—anything—to fill the emptiness and pain in my heart. Han Ying just happened to show up at the right time.”

An old lover, with shared history, intimacy, emotional ties, and the softening lens of time—it was no wonder she had momentarily lost herself and fallen into the same tangle again.

Geng An still didn’t understand. “Why did you break up? Everything seemed fine.”

Han Ying had been with Jiang Zheng for a long time, but she was also with the rich fiance for many years.

Jiang Zheng licked her dry lips, her eyes trembling slightly. “After the abortion, it became very difficult for me to conceive.”

With that, she didn’t wait for Geng An to ask anything further. She picked up her bag, threw on her heavy coat, and hurried out of the teahouse.

Li Rong didn’t stop her. He simply raised a hand to touch the teapot. The surface of the purple clay pot had gone entirely cold, chilling to the bone.

After Jiang Zheng left, Geng An turned to Li Rong.

He had too many questions. Why did Li Rong know about Xu Tanghui’s miserable situation? Why did he seem so familiar with Jiang Zheng’s experiences? Why, even though they were both assisting Team Leader Cen, did Li Rong seem to empathize so deeply?

Li Rong smiled faintly and patted Geng An on the shoulder. “I know you have a lot of questions. One day, you’ll know the answers. For today, thank you.”

To Han Jiang and Zhang Zhaohe, Geng An was a wild card.

In the past timeline, Geng An had worked under Du Mingli, and it was through him that Du Mingli uncovered Han Jiang’s secrets and struck a fatal blow when Han Jiang least expected it.

In this timeline, that same secret remained his weapon.

Cen Xiao had yet to gain a firm foothold in District Nine. Now was not the time to bring down Han Jiang—there were still unresolved questions in Li Rong’s mind.

In Jiang Zheng’s account, beyond the established facts, much of it was subjective speculation. For instance, she believed Han Jiang bore a grudge against Xu Tanghui’s insubordination and framed her out of revenge. She depicted Zhang Zhaohe as merely Han Jiang’s pawn, his subordinate, a puppet on strings.

Jiang Zheng even thought Han Jiang had harbored resentment against Li Qingli for over a decade, striking out during the Luyinxu project to exact revenge.

That she didn’t believe Li Qingli had deserved his downfall reassured Li Rong. And while the fake accounts Liu Tanzhi managed did indeed belong to Han Jiang, Li Rong remained skeptical about this aspect of the story.

If Zhang Zhaohe truly were Han Jiang’s subordinate, what was he gaining from this relationship?

At least Liu Tanzhi had profited handsomely, becoming so arrogant that she no longer cared about Li Baishou. Yet, after more than a decade, Zhang Zhaohe still dressed plainly in his Zhongshan suit, occupying a trivial position as a lecturer with no prospects for promotion.

Had Han Jiang ever helped him?

It didn’t seem so.

Zhang Zhaohe held the key to Han Jiang’s greatest secret. So why was Han Jiang so confident that he could keep Zhang Zhaohe’s mouth shut without offering money or power?

Could Han Jiang also hold Zhang Zhaohe’s secrets?

If Zhang Zhaohe’s secrets are equally shocking and unspeakable, it would be even more evident that Zhang Zhaohe shouldn’t remain just an ordinary lecturer.

Li Rong left some money on the table and said to Geng An, “I’ve got something to take care of. You’ve worked hard today.”

Although Geng An had countless questions, since Li Rong wasn’t ready to answer, he wouldn’t press him. “Alright, take care.”

Li Rong went to Aunt Hui’s home.

He had specifically told Aunt Hui not to set up her stall today and wait for him at home.

Xu Tanghui didn’t fully understand why but decided to stay home to finish a few online orders for her handmade dolls.

Li Rong, already familiar with the streets of the neighborhood, walked with purpose. His expression remained unreadable as he stepped over cracked pavement and avoided puddles filled with stagnant water. Passing stalls wafting smells of fruit and spicy hot pot, he headed straight for Aunt Hui’s building.

Since starting her online shop, Xu Tanghui’s life had improved considerably.

She wasn’t incapable of earning money—it was just that before, she had been like a fish stranded in a dry riverbed, consumed with clearing her name and leaving no room for anything else.

Recently, she’d decided to pay more attention to herself, even setting aside money to give her home a modest renovation. Though the exterior of the building remained dark and grimy, the inside was now tidy, bright, and surprisingly cozy.

Xu Tanghui said she wanted to treat herself better, but the real reason was Ji Xiaochuan often came to visit. She could endure anything herself but couldn’t bear for the young woman to suffer.

Li Rong climbed the worn, shiny-black stairs, ascending two flights to reach Aunt Hui’s floor.

He knocked on her door and, while waiting for her to open it, glanced at the apartment across the hall.

The iron door was shut tightly, with an A4 paper taped to it, bearing bold black characters: “House for Sale.”

Soon, Xu Tanghui opened the door. Seeing Li Rong, she smiled warmly and said with enthusiasm, “Come in, come in—it’s cold outside, isn’t it?”

Li Rong noticed the band-aids wrapped around her fingers and frowned slightly. “Aunt Hui, you’ve got to be more careful while working.”

Xu Tanghui quickly hid her injured fingers behind her back and chuckled sheepishly. “Oh, it’s nothing—I’ve got tough skin. Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

Li Rong held back the urge to suggest ways to help her earn more money. These things could wait; she’d need peace of mind first to think about them.

Casually, he asked, “Is your neighbor across the hall moving out?”

As she closed the door, Xu Tanghui glanced at the apartment and sighed softly. “You remember the woman selling phone cases at the plaza? That’s her and her daughter. Selling the house is for medical bills. I offered to lend her some money to keep the place for now, so they’d still have a home, but she wouldn’t take it. She said she couldn’t pay it back and would have to sell the house sooner or later.”

Li Rong frowned slightly. “Didn’t Jiaketing’s new drug just hit the market? The price of the old one should’ve dropped.”

Xu Tanghui gave a bitter smile. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. I was happy for her at first. But who would’ve thought that while the price dropped, production also slowed? Nobody wants to make something unprofitable. The old drug is scarce now—people have to fight for it. Scalpers are charging so much that it’s hardly cheaper than the new drug. She’s held on for almost a year but just can’t anymore.”

“Scalpers,” Li Rong muttered, his lips curling in a cold smile. “Suhe Biotech sure knows how to squeeze every last penny.”

Xu Tanghui brought him a cup of pear soup, steaming hot. Li Rong held the cup in his hands, the warmth spreading through his fingers as he took a sip. The sweetness and heat were comforting, chasing away the chill.

“Is it good?” she asked. “If you like it, I’ll make more. Xiaochuan’s been complaining of stomachaches lately—I’ll bring her some tomorrow.”

Li Rong set the cup down and took her hand, guiding her to sit. “Aunt Hui, I have something to show you.”

Smiling, Xu Tanghui wiped her hands on a towel. “What is it? Why so serious?”

Li Rong hesitated, seeing her relaxed expression. Deep down, he felt a pang of reluctance.

He didn’t know how she would react. Ten years of searching, countless moments of despair—now there was finally a lead. The emotions this might stir were beyond anyone else’s understanding.

He opened his photo album and selected a picture of Han Ying.

The images had been collected by Jian Fu, showing both recent and older photos of Han Ying. Li Rong handed her the phone and asked gently, “Aunt Hui, do you recognize this man?”

Xu Tanghui carefully put on her reading glasses, leaning forward to examine the screen. At first, her expression was puzzled. But slowly, her furrowed brows smoothed out, her eyes widened, and her face became stricken with panic. She abruptly stood, gripping the phone with trembling hands. Her voice was hurried, almost incoherent. “It’s him! It’s him! That’s the man!”

In her urgency, she released the phone and instead grabbed Li Rong’s clothes, clutching them tightly as if he were her lifeline.

Her breathing quickened, her hands shaking, tears welling in her eyes. She seemed on the verge of speaking but couldn’t form the words.

Then, as if a dam had broken, tears streamed down her weathered cheeks. They traced the deep lines of her face, soaking into the faded fabric of her sweater.

Li Rong’s voice was soft and full of sorrow. “I know, Aunt Hui. I know.” He gently wiped away her tears, offering her a reassuring smile.

She pointed at the now-dark phone screen, her voice trembling with emotion. “He’s older now, but I could never forget that face! Never!”

Li Rong nodded solemnly. “His name is Han Ying. He was the one who knocked over the equipment during the experiment and blamed it on you. Aunt Hui, you were wronged. I promise you, I will clear your name.”

Xu Tanghui stared at him, her lips trembling. After a moment, she smiled—relieved, yet overwhelmed—and quickly covered her face with her bandaged hands. Her sobs were muffled as she said, “Thank you, child. Thank you. I thought there was no hope, that I’d never find him!”

Li Rong gently grasped Xu Tanghui’s wrist and softly reassured her, “Aunt Hui, now you need to tell me everything you remember.”

Xu Tanghui wept into her hands for a while, then wiped her tears with her palms and sniffled.

She gestured for Li Rong to wait and went into the bathroom. After quite some time, she came out with her tears dried. 

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone again and carefully examined the photos of Han Ying.

She scrutinized them with unmatched intensity, as if trying to pierce through every inch of his skin with her gaze.

This was the man who had wrongfully condemned her over a decade ago, the man who shattered her world overnight.

Now, he had resurfaced—older, heavier, and seemingly leading a decent life.

Xu Tanghui clenched her teeth. “Child, how did you find him?”

Li Rong replied steadily, “He’s been living abroad all these years, so it’s no wonder you couldn’t track him down. I only discovered him recently when I stumbled upon a connection to that incident back then.”

Xu Tanghui looked through the photos again and finally sat down in a chair, resting her hands on her knees. She gazed at a nail sticking out of the wall, murmuring, “That night, I was startled awake by noises in the lab. Realizing someone had entered, I immediately went to check…”

Li Rong listened in silence.

Xu Tanghui’s account matched what Jiang Zheng had described, with minor differences. She hadn’t realized there were two people in the lab. Jiang Zheng, being smaller and more agile, had moved stealthily in the shadows, while Han Ying’s panic and commotion caught all of Xu Tanghui’s attention.

She recalled asking, “Who are you?” But Han Ying was intent on escaping. He shoved Xu Tanghui aside and bolted out of the lab building in a frenzy.

Xu Tanghui tried to chase him.

But how could she, a middle-aged woman, keep up with a young and physically fit man? After running for nearly two kilometers and exhausting herself, she lost him.

Xu Tanghui, unfamiliar with such situations, searched the area where she lost him, hoping to find a clue. When she realized there was no trace of him, she clutched her abdomen and returned to the lab. Turning on the lights, she was horrified.

The experimental equipment had been smashed to the floor, even cracking the marble tiles beneath.

She immediately reported it to the campus security office. By the time security arrived and their supervisor was informed, more time had passed.

That night, Xu Tanghui didn’t sleep a wink. Yet, the security supervisor only arrived at 6 a.m. the next morning.

When the damage was assessed and Xu Tanghui mentioned a fleeing student, the supervisor suggested checking the surveillance footage.

However, upon reviewing the footage, they discovered that the relevant recordings were missing. The supervisor subtly hinted that the footage had likely been tampered with.

At the time, Xu Tanghui didn’t understand much about such technology. Frustrated and helpless, she repeatedly tried to find the missing footage, to no avail.

The supervisor tried to console her vaguely, claiming the equipment might be faulty and would need a technician to inspect it.

By then, the sun was already up.

Xu Tanghui sighed as she recalled, “There was a teacher who suspected I had destroyed the equipment myself and was trying to blame an imaginary student to avoid responsibility. Without the footage, I couldn’t prove my innocence. I don’t blame them for doubting me.”

Lowering her head, she looked ashamed.

Li Rong, however, frowned. “A teacher? Which teacher?”

Xu Tanghui couldn’t recall. She had etched Han Ying’s face into her memory, but amidst the chaos, she hadn’t paid attention to the other voices or faces. Too many people had been there, all talking at once.

“It wasn’t someone I knew well,” she explained. “I recognized the professors who frequently worked in the lab. This must’ve been an administrative staff member or someone I didn’t often see.”

Li Rong’s eyelashes fluttered as he pieced things together.

It seemed this teacher had subtly guided the school’s narrative. With Han Jiang’s influence, the school leadership ultimately sealed Xu Tanghui’s fate.

But who was this unfamiliar teacher who rarely visited the lab?

A name floated into Li Rong’s mind.

He said softly, “Aunt Hui, I only wanted you to confirm Han Ying’s identity. His background is complex. Although we’ve gathered some evidence, we’re not yet in a position to take him down completely. But don’t worry—that day is coming soon.”

Xu Tanghui nodded repeatedly. “Just finding him has put my heart at ease. It feels like I’ve achieved my life’s greatest wish. You take care of your bigger plans—I won’t get in your way.”

Li Rong detailed what Jiang Zheng had told him about that night and stayed to chat with Xu Tanghui for a while. He didn’t leave until the sky darkened.

That day had brought an overwhelming flood of information. Exhausted, Li Rong returned to his apartment, removed his coat, and collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he groggily opened his eyes and noticed the small bedside lamp was on. Cen Xiao had returned from District Nine.

Still half-asleep, Li Rong instinctively rolled over and hooked an arm around Cen Xiao’s neck, clinging to him like a koala.

His body was warm from sleep, his hair curled slightly, and he nuzzled against Cen Xiao’s neck, trying to fend off drowsiness.

He knew that if he stopped moving, he would soon drift off again.

“I met Jiang Zheng today,” Li Rong mumbled, his half-closed eyes struggling to adjust to the soft light. His eyelashes trembled against Cen Xiao’s sensitive neck.

Cen Xiao, unable to ignore him, set his book aside, shifted his Adam’s apple, and slipped an arm around Li Rong’s waist. He leaned close to his ear and murmured, “Geng An told me.”

Cen Xiao’s lips brushed against the reddened curve of Li Rong’s ear, finally grazing the earlobe and gently biting it.

Despite Li Rong’s teasing actions, it was clear he was exhausted. Cen Xiao couldn’t bear to disturb him further; otherwise, he wouldn’t have left the lamp on while reading.

Li Rong shrank back, his ear tickling, and retaliated by lightly biting Cen Xiao’s shoulder. While doing so, he murmured incoherently about the day’s events: “Jiang Zheng said it was Han Jiang’s scheme… but I think Zhang Zhaohe is suspicious… Aunt Hui mentioned a teacher… and Jiang Zheng’s parents are doctors at Jiajia Central Hospital… even Luyinxu was at Jiajia Central Hospital…”

He was utterly exhausted, his speech somewhat incoherent, making it all the more impressive that Cen Xiao managed to piece together the gist of his fragmented and unclear narrative.

Cen Xiao gently held Li Rong’s head, rescuing his shoulder from Li Rong’s sharp teeth, and couldn’t help but chuckle. He planted a quick kiss on Li Rong’s lips. “You’re this tired? Let’s talk tomorrow. If you don’t sleep now, you might not get the chance later.”

Cen Xiao’s hand naturally started to slip under Li Rong’s pajamas.

Hearing this, Li Rong’s eyelids fluttered slightly, but then he closed his eyes, shifted aside to avoid Cen Xiao’s hand, and quickly curled himself around the blanket, lying back on his pillow.

Even though he’d made a tactical retreat, he still mumbled a defense, “It’s not that I don’t have the energy—I’m just worried about distracting you from your studies.”

“You’re so good,” Cen Xiao remarked with a faint smile. He tugged the blanket to wrap Li Rong’s arms and legs snugly, pulling him closer into his embrace.

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