The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 150

It was indeed time.

The cameras were turned off, signaling the end of the celebration. The production team’s vehicles were the first to leave, followed by fans reluctantly dispersing from the mountainside. The sun sank in the west, leaving a smattering of paper debris on the ground. The children stared blankly at the now-empty road, struggling to adapt to the sudden chill in the air.

Hong Ru ushered the children indoors, preparing for dinner to be served. The exhausted teachers forced smiles, massaging their sore backs as they instructed the kids to wash their hands and faces.

The three-day revelry felt like a dream. The outside world’s fireworks of life had infiltrated the mountain, subtly but profoundly altering something.

Hong Ru struggled to explain to the children that the gentle, kind, patient, and radiant young men who had been with them wouldn’t be coming back tomorrow—or possibly ever again.

Thankfully, the children’s attention was easily diverted. In a few days, they might even forget this brief interlude.

Sui Wanjun rested on her crutch, sitting at the orphanage entrance. She watched the fiery glow of the setting sun as she caught her breath.

She didn’t find the view particularly beautiful. After decades of the same scenery, even the most stunning sights lost their novelty. Instead, she felt sentimental—grateful that, despite her frail body, she could still do something for the children.

This gratitude stemmed entirely from the excellence of her own children. If not for a moment of soft-heartedness when she chose to raise those abandoned girls, how could she have forged this bond of goodwill?

It was all a gift of fate.

The tranquil dusk, after the bustling excitement, was a time to reflect, reminisce, savor, and find solace in a lifetime’s worth of memories.

Sui Wanjun’s heart was full of contentment.

Li Rong glanced at Jiang Xunwei, who closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I understand.”

When he opened his eyes again, the once calm and still gaze now held a rare determination reminiscent of his youth. He pushed open the car door and strode towards the orphanage gate.

Li Rong reached into the car’s glove compartment and pulled out a 9×9 Rubik’s Cube.

Previously, he had been playing with a 3×3 at home. Once you understood the patterns, it wasn’t too difficult, but it did test one’s patience. 

After mastering the 3×3, he moved on to the 4×4, gradually progressing until he reached the 9×9.

The cube had been thoroughly scrambled, with colors chaotically intermingled. Just looking at it was dizzying, let alone memorizing the complex formulas needed to restore it.

Jiang Xunwei jogged a few steps to the orphanage gate. The evening wind tousled his graying hair, and his coat tightened over his heaving chest.

He asked urgently, “Are you Director Sui Wanjun?”

Sui Wanjun, seated not far from the gate, straightened herself with the help of her crutch when she heard Jiang Xunwei call her name, looking toward the gate.

The visitor was a stranger, but he carried an air of righteousness—aged, yet undiminished.

“And you are?” Sui Wanjun, out of politeness, stood up.

From inside the cafeteria, Hong Ru heard the commotion and hurried outside.

Jiang Xunwei adjusted his glasses, his expression anxious and tone grave. “Director Sui, it’s good to see you. I’m Jiang Xunwei, the former deputy director of pediatrics at Jiajia Central Hospital.”

“Jiajia Central Hospital?” Sui Wanjun’s expression softened immediately. She turned to the gatekeeper, “Open the gate, quickly.”

She held great goodwill and trust toward anyone from Jiajia Central Hospital, as her son and daughter both worked there.

By now, Hong Ru had reached Sui Wanjun’s side. She supported Sui Wanjun and looked toward Jiang Xunwei.

Jiang Xunwei saw her too. In fact, he had already gathered detailed information about everyone at Xiaochengxiang Orphanage before coming here. Still, he pretended to take a moment to recall. “Oh, I remember. Two years ago, you were the one who came to Jiajia to handle the paperwork for those children who passed away, weren’t you?”

Hong Ru blinked in confusion, nodding slowly. She hadn’t dealt with Jiang Xunwei directly at the time and only vaguely remembered his face.

But with Hong Ru’s confirmation, Sui Wanjun’s trust in Jiang Xunwei was sealed.

“Dr. Jiang, what brings you here?” Sui Wanjun asked kindly, urging Hong Ru to fetch a chair for their guest.

Jiang Xunwei sighed and rubbed his brow above his glasses. “After retiring, I’ve found myself constantly thinking about the past. I wanted to visit the child I failed to save. I can’t let it go. In all my years as a doctor, this was the one time I felt utterly powerless.”

Sui Wanjun, a deeply emotional person, teared up at his words.

Two years had passed, but not a day went by without her remembering that dark time. Eighteen children had lost their lives. If only her health had been better, if only she had been able to care for every child, if only she had noticed their discomfort sooner, perhaps treatment wouldn’t have been delayed.

“Dr. Jiang, I’m not as strong as you. I can’t even bear to think about it…” Sui Wanjun held Jiang Xunwei’s hand, her eyes brimming with tears. Against the backdrop of the crimson sunset, her tears seemed tinged with blood.

Li Rong frowned slightly, pouting as he studied the Rubik’s Cube in his hands.

Somewhere, he had made a miscalculation. He had solved one side but was stuck at this point. The car’s warm interior fogged up the windows, his face as pale as porcelain and his features as delicate as a painting. Even his furrowed brow carried a unique charm.

Cen Xiao glanced at the Rubik’s Cube held in delicate, pale fingers and said softly, “If you hit a dead end, sometimes it’s best to scramble it and start over. You might find a new path.”

Li Rong looked at him, hesitated for just a second, then decisively scrambled the completely solved red side. He didn’t seem to care at all about the effort it had taken to complete it.

“That’s true,” he said lightly.

Meanwhile, 100 kilometers away in A City, Shen Gui held her daughter Tongtong’s hand as she looked up at the seven-story building with the prominent Jiajia Central Hospital sign hanging above.

That sign once felt so towering, so unattainable. It represented cutting-edge technology and endless waiting. 

But today, as someone struggling on the edge of life and death, Shen Gui was here to challenge it.

She tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand and asked, “Remember what Mommy told you?”

Although Tongtong was young, the trials of survival had forced her to mature beyond her years. She nodded firmly. “I remember.”

At 4:30 in the afternoon, the outpatient doctors were about to clock out. Director Zhai Ning’s appointments had been fully booked two months in advance. With only one patient left to process the hospital admission paperwork, she was ready to leave.

Shen Gui and Tongtong stepped into the elevator.

Dressed simply and appearing frail with her timid demeanor and the little girl in tow, Shen Gui seemed pitiable. People let them pass without much scrutiny. Even the nurses at the consultation desk didn’t bother to ask questions, assuming they were just there for test results.

Following the electronic signs, Shen Gui found Zhai Ning’s office. Gritting her teeth, she knocked on the door.

After half a minute, there was the sound of a chair being pushed back, and the door opened from within. A figure leaned slightly to the side and said, “Come in.”

***

Half of the sun dipped behind the green mountains, leaving rippling waves of red light in the sky, like a pebble tossed into water, spreading ripples.

“Where are the children buried? I’d like to see them,” Jiang Xunwei said, gripping Sui Wanjun’s hand tightly. The tragedy they shared had forged a connection between the two elders, and sorrow seeped into the air amidst the crimson glow covering the mountains. “I just want to see them one more time.”

“They’re buried in the back mountain,” Sui Wanjun replied emotionally. “We don’t have a cemetery here; it’s all in the woods. It’s close by, so sometimes I take the teachers to pay respects.”

As she spoke, her breath quickened with emotion. Age and frailty caused her to sweat easily, and the faint scent of budget snake oil wafted through the air.

Hong Ru returned with a chair from the classroom, only to find Sui Wanjun leaning on her cane, dragging Jiang Xunwei along as they headed toward the back mountain.

The path was rugged, and the sky was darkening. Hong Ru grew worried. “Maybe we should go tomorrow. It’s getting late.”

Sui Wanjun waved her off. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I haven’t visited them in a while. They must miss me.”

Helpless, Hong Ru could only hold onto Sui Wanjun’s arm tightly to prevent her from slipping.

Despite her frailty, Sui Wanjun’s familiarity with the mountain paths ensured they made steady progress.

Jiang Xunwei glanced at his watch. After crossing two steep slopes, he finally spoke. “Director Sui, I’ve had a lingering question over the past two years, and I still can’t figure it out. I’d like to ask you.”

Sui Wanjun’s heart tensed. She quickly said, “Ask away.”

Jiang Xunwei swallowed hard and unconsciously clenched his fingers. “While resuscitating the child, I discovered that the child had an underlying condition—he had a clotting disorder.” As he spoke, Jiang Xunwei closed his eyes tightly and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “It was serious. It completely disrupted our resuscitation plan. We had to stop the bleeding, change the medication, and adjust the treatment plan. But… the medical examination report for his participation in the trial didn’t mention this issue. If I had known earlier, maybe I could have saved him.”

Jiang Xunwei suddenly let out a deep sigh, his brows furrowed tightly. Overcome with emotion, he raised his hand, gesturing at Sui Wanjun as he spoke. “Volunteers for the Phase I drug trial are not supposed to have any underlying conditions. No one even considered this possibility. What I don’t understand now is how he passed the screening. It’s not just him—I checked the rescue records of all the children afterward. They… they all had congenital defects. Because of these defects, they were more susceptible to contracting bacterial progeria. But why? How did they all pass the hospital’s review?”

Sui Wanjun was stunned.

She didn’t understand much about medicine, but she knew what Jiang Xunwei meant by underlying conditions.

These children, aside from bacterial progeria, had other illnesses. They were also on other medications and required extra care. Because of this, they were abandoned by impoverished families and left at the Xiao Chengxiang orphanage.

Some of these children were already old enough to recognize their biological parents, but they also understood why they had been abandoned: their families couldn’t afford the exorbitant medical expenses.

Xiao Chengxiang was their only refuge, their last safe haven.

They clung to life, lonely and desolate.

All their suffering carried the fragile hope of a miraculous salvation. But in reality, Xiaochengxiang itself struggled to sustain them.

At that time, teachers came and went frequently, with new faces appearing every year or two.

Many teachers treated Xiaochengxiang as a stepping stone for their careers. A year or two of volunteer teaching experience added a golden touch to their résumés.

Sui Wanjun felt both anxious and powerless. She couldn’t expect all the teachers to dedicate their lives like she did. All she could do was hope these children would recover soon.

“Ah Ning said the underlying conditions weren’t the issue—it’s the medication. Luyinxu is a cruel and unethical drug. It’s because of that medicine that the children got into trouble,” Sui Wanjun said, her emotions suddenly surging. She grabbed Jiang Xunwei’s arm and shook it furiously, her voice filled with resentment. “Ah Ning didn’t expect the drug to have problems. It’s all that despicable Li Qingli’s fault! All he cared about was making money, and he harmed my children. He deserves to pay for this!”