The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 159

In A City, there was only one famous tourist attraction: Ta Mountain.

Every year, millions of visitors came to climb it, watch the sunrise, or enjoy the city view at night.

Ta Mountain wasn’t particularly high. After winding up the mountain road and parking at the scenic area’s lot, a three-to-four-hour hike along the trail would lead to the summit.

Students of A City universities could climb for free by presenting their student ID cards.

Li Rong had a proper night’s sleep. When he woke up, Cen Xiao was still asleep, the sky a grayish-blue as the sun had yet to rise.

He carefully got out of bed, tugged the blanket over Cen Xiao, and lightly scratched Cen Xiao’s palm with his fingertip before leaving the room.

Changing into hiking gear and packing plenty of water and snacks, Li Rong arrived at the sports field to find Zhang Zhaohe already neatly dressed and waiting.

Zhang Zhaohe wore his usual Zhongshan suit, but his cane had been replaced with a hiking pole. It seemed he didn’t actually need any walking aid.

Since weekends drew large crowds to the mountain, the group had to set off early to avoid traffic. By 6 a.m., everyone had gathered, and the bus departed promptly.

Li Rong initially intended to sit in the back, but Zhang Zhaohe stopped him. “Sit next to me. It’s easier than getting carsick in the back.”

Li Rong glanced at Zhang Zhaohe’s hand holding his arm but didn’t argue. He set down his backpack and took the seat.

As the top-performing student in his grade, Li Rong’s preferential treatment from Zhang Zhaohe didn’t provoke any jealousy from his classmates.

Once the bus started moving, Li Rong casually gazed out the window. Moments later, Zhang Zhaohe drew the curtains, muttering, “The light’s glaring.”

At 6 a.m., the morning light was barely perceptible, hardly glaring. Nonetheless, Li Rong was forced to redirect his attention.

Zhang Zhaohe intentionally pulled his attention back, unsure of what to do.

Buzz.

The phone vibrated.

Li Rong glanced down and saw a text message from Cen Xiao—

[Eat breakfast.]

Those short words made him smile instinctively, but when he looked up, he noticed Zhang Zhaohe’s gaze also lingering on his screen.

Li Rong quickly wiped the smile off his face and flipped the phone over.

Zhang Zhaohe shook his head with a smile, seemingly finding his small action a little childish. After a moment, he asked again, “Have you ever been to Ta Mountain before?”

Li Rong took a light breath and leaned back against the chair. “No.”

He really hadn’t.

Despite living in A City for so many years, he had never visited the Ta Mountain scenic spot.

In truth, before meeting Cen Xiao, he wasn’t someone who liked exercise, especially not activities like climbing mountains that were tough on the knees.

Rather than sweating profusely alongside a crowd of tourists to enjoy the view from a mountaintop, he preferred making a cup of coffee and spending an afternoon in the library.

Later, in order to bridge the physical fitness gap between himself and Cen Xiao, he began working out.

He still remembered, in the previous life, after their graduation ceremony, Cen Xiao had taken him home and effortlessly pinned his hands behind his back, pressing him face-down on the bed.

Two years later, however, he could already spar back and forth with Cen Xiao. If Cen Xiao wanted him to settle down quietly, it was inevitable that he’d walk away with bruises.

Looking back now, his training in close combat also had traces of Cen Xiao’s deliberate guidance.

Cen Xiao’s repeated provocations were just a way to test the results of his practice.

Neither of them had anticipated that poison would be the final weapon used against the other.

Zhang Zhaohe paused, squinting his eyes and musing, “It’s been a long time since I visited Ta Mountain. The last time was over ten years ago, with a group of like-minded friends.”

Li Rong glanced at Zhang Zhaohe from the corner of his eye and said flatly, “Ta Mountain isn’t very tall, and the scenery isn’t as impressive as people say.”

Zhang Zhaohe smiled. “True, and there are a lot of branches on the mountain blocking most of the views. Only a few spots offer a glimpse of the city. But the important part isn’t the scenery—it’s the experience of climbing with like-minded people.”

As Zhang Zhaohe reminisced, he unconsciously straightened his posture, his gaze drifting into the distance with a look of yearning on his face.

Li Rong noticed that the old pen was still pinned to Zhang Zhaohe’s chest.

Climbing to great heights with like-minded people didn’t seem like something a person with no ambitions or drive would do.

Of course, Li Rong had long stopped believing that Zhang Zhaohe was as simple as he appeared.

Zhang Zhaohe seemed about to say more, but the noise in the bus had already reached a crescendo. Some students were eating, others horsing around, and a few playing cards. The cheerful chaos echoed in the cramped space.

Zhang Zhaohe had never held much authority in front of his students. He tried a few times to turn around and quiet them down but hesitated, eventually sighing and giving up.

He knew any silence wouldn’t last long.

After two noisy hours, including a 20-minute traffic jam, the bus finally reached the parking lot. The group tumbled out, stretching and massaging their sore backs, moving lazily.

Zhang Zhaohe, leaning on his hiking pole, stretched onto his tiptoes and craned his neck to make himself more noticeable. “Classmates, please try to stick together in pairs. Everyone must reach the summit. We’ll take a group photo at the top—it’ll be a wonderful memory for you to look back on.”

No one paid him much attention. The students had already paired off with their usual friends, wandering toward the trailhead in loose groups.

Left behind, Zhang Zhaohe sighed, unscrewed a thermos from his bag, and took a gulp. “Getting old—just shouting a bit makes my head spin.”

Li Rong, having no close friends in the class, was naturally alone as well.

He smiled faintly. “Really? You seem quite healthy to me.”

Zhang Zhaohe didn’t seem to catch the veiled meaning in his words. He raised his gaze to the summit, his expression distant. “Maybe it’s just fate’s kindness.”

Fate’s kindness?

There was so little in life one could truly control. The twists of destiny were enigmatic, as if longevity really were a gift from the heavens.

Li Rong thought of his long-departed parents, and his heart sank.

Zhang Zhaohe suddenly raised his wrinkled hand and patted Li Rong’s shoulder. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep the others waiting.”

Once the hike began, Li Rong realized just how polite Zhang Zhaohe’s words had been—and how much he’d overestimated the average college student’s physical fitness.

If not for the early training he had done under Tang He’s guidance, he might not have been able to keep up with Zhang Zhaohe’s pace.

Zhang Zhaohe had claimed his last climb of Ta Mountain was over a decade ago, yet he seemed thoroughly familiar with the route. Li Rong simply followed behind, steadily passing all their classmates along the way.

Hearing their gasps for breath and seeing Zhang Zhaohe’s composed strides, Li Rong found the man even more enigmatic than before.

Thanks to Tang He’s rigorous and meticulous training, Li Rong could maintain the pace without faltering, never giving the impression of weakness.

But two and a half hours later, when they finally reached the summit, his body was inundated with a wave of overwhelming fatigue and soreness.

At least it was bearable.

Leaning on a waist-high rock, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and pulled out his phone, snapping a picture of the view below.

Unfortunately, a thin mist shrouded the mountain, blurring the photo. Still, it wasn’t every day he came here, so he sent the picture to Cen Xiao.

[Cen Xiao: The view from the mountain looks good.]

[Li Rong: It’s nice, but it means we can’t do anything together for the next two days. My muscles are so sore.]

[Cen Xiao: I’ll give you a massage when you get back.]

[Li Rong: Alright then.]

Li Rong’s eyes curved with amusement, a faint smile playing on his lips.

That was exactly what he had been waiting to hear.

After half an hour of rest at the summit, some of his exhaustion ebbed. Only two other classmates had managed to make it to the top, slumping in a pavilion to catch their breath.

Zhang Zhaohe, now recovered, slowly approached Li Rong with his hiking pole.

“Now that you’re up here, how’s the view?”

Li Rong was adjusting his phone for another photo. At the sound of Zhang Zhaohe’s voice, his fingers paused briefly. “It’s alright.”

Zhang Zhaohe followed his gaze downhill, taking in the meandering river, the densely packed buildings, and the web of intersecting highways.

He murmured, “The view below has changed a lot. Before…there used to be no highways, no high-rises, and that river was actually green. They’ve cleaned it up quite a bit these days—fewer algae. See that orange building over there? That’s the Hongding Plaza. It used to be a bustling shopping mall, but now it’s deserted. I heard they’ll tear it down soon and rebuild. Over there, you can even spot A University. The library’s so tall—six floors. It’s been repaired and refurbished over the years, but it’s become a landmark.”

Zhang Zhaohe quietly recounted the details of the city, sparing nothing as if every inch was imprinted in his mind. He could begin from any point within sight and narrate every change it had undergone.

For the first time, Li Rong saw him revealing such unguarded emotion—nostalgia.

He yearned for the city of more than a decade ago, his gaze seemingly piercing through time, returning to when he was young and strong.

Time tends to add a filter to memories. Scenery that wasn’t so beautiful back then now becomes sweet through recollection.

Li Rong, however, viewed the past without such a lens. Ever since he could remember, this city had always been filled with towering skyscrapers.

“More than ten years since you last came here, and yet your memory is so clear.” 

Zhang Zhaohe paused his reminiscing and looked at Li Rong with a meaningful expression. “The brain’s capacity is limited, and the memories it can store are finite. Every day we take in new memories, inevitably burying some old ones. Yet, certain vital things never fade; they remain to remind you of who you are, the foundation of your being.”

“Oh.” Li Rong curled his lips, his tone indifferent, as if unsure whether he absorbed the words.

Reaching the summit seemed to unlock something in Zhang Zhaohe. He started speaking incessantly. “The area at the base of the mountain has changed a lot, but the summit has barely changed at all. On my way up, I noticed it was just as it was over a decade ago. See that little courtyard over there? Back then, my friends and I took a photo in front of the courtyard gate and the Ta Mountain stele. Ten years later, the courtyard remains, and the stele is still there, as if time atop the mountain flows much more slowly.”

Following Zhang Zhaohe’s gesture, Li Rong looked toward the small courtyard, the only building at the summit. It was designed in a traditional garden style, ideal for photographs. Most visitors who climbed the mountain would take photos there.

Outside the courtyard stood a tall stone stele, engraved with the two characters for “Ta Mountain.” The stele’s surface had been worn smooth and blackened by countless hands, yet the inscription remained clear and intact.

Zhang Zhaohe took two steps forward and gazed at the stele through the passing crowd. “The past is irretrievable.”

Li Rong chuckled softly and shook his head. “Teacher, if you have something to say, you can be direct.”

Planning the class trip, refusing his leave request, insisting he accompany the group—all to have him stand in a spot from over ten years ago, gazing at a similar view, hoping to evoke some shared sentiment.

Zhang Zhaohe turned back to face him, his drooping eyelids quivering slightly. The sharp contrast of black and white in his eyes reflected Li Rong’s image.

“Child, I know you’ve had a hard and painful time. I was a good friend of your father. Perhaps I am one of the few who can truly understand you in this world.”

Li Rong froze for a moment, surprised that Zhang Zhaohe would bring up his parents.

Still, Zhang Zhaohe’s claim wasn’t entirely accurate. Li Rong had Cen Xiao, Lin Zhen, Jian Fu, Ji Xiaochuan, Aunt Hui, and other friends who understood him. Over the past two years, he had gained much.

Absentmindedly, Zhang Zhaohe reached out to rub the old pen on his chest. His eyes grew moist, and his neatly combed hair was now tousled by the mountain breeze.

“What kind of world is this? Those who inflict harm often hide amidst the vast sea of humanity, unscathed. But those treated unfairly must strive to remain calm, restrained, and patient. They cannot become a resentful figure like Xianglin’s Wife, lest people grow annoyed and refuse to listen. Nor can they become hot-headed like Lu Zhishen, or they’ll be dismissed as coarse and vulgar.

“To be a qualified victim, one must have a spotless past that can withstand scrutiny from countless eyes. Any flaw, however minor, makes your suffering seem justified. On top of that, you must be dignified, forgiving, gentle, and docile—possessing traits that invite sympathy. When faced with rude questions, you must respond carefully, patiently, tirelessly, erasing your edges. Throughout, you must learn to endure in silence, act strategically, and move with the tide while downplaying the outcome.

“See? Being a victim is incredibly difficult. Like crossing a single-plank bridge amid a thousand soldiers and horses, few ever succeed. That’s human nature.”

Zhang Zhaohe pointed toward the ascending trail, his hand trembling slightly in the summit’s winds. “Look at them—those people are the sea of humanity, either hiding abusers or being abusers themselves. Yet, they are the ones you must win over. Oh, and they are also the ones your father wanted to save. When you look down at the mountain’s base, they seem as small as ants—only capable of following orders, rarely thinking for themselves. Is it worth humbling yourself for them?”

Li Rong looked down the mountain. The bustling crowd moved slowly along the winding paths, indeed resembling ants.

Standing atop the mountain, breathing in the invigorating air, buffeted by the harsh, relentless wind, and looking down, the feeling was indescribable.

He didn’t respond because he didn’t know how to. Zhang Zhaohe had spoken nothing but the truth.

To achieve victory, Li Rong had to be cold-blooded, cunning, alert, and guarded. He had to leverage every bit of support he could muster, even from people like Zhai Ning or He Dayong, whose past deeds he had to overlook to gain their backing. The bitterness and grief, he swallowed alone.

He also needed to be strong, intelligent, and exceptional—compressing what would take others a decade to master into mere years, mastering knowledge across fields to avoid falling into traps.

He felt as if he were inside a massive machine designed to shape him into perfection. Any misfit edges, weaknesses, or emotions were mercilessly shaved away and corrected.

Fate had left him one space to breathe—Cen Xiao.

With Cen Xiao, he could soften and exhale.

But he also knew that if his parents stood on this mountain, faced with Zhang Zhaohe’s questioning, they would answer without hesitation, “It’s worth it.”

Even if what they saved were merely ants, it was worth it. In their eyes, hatred could never extinguish love. To them, ants were united, kind, hardworking, and possessed virtues worth preserving.

Because they were willing to believe in the beautiful aspects of life, they could also tolerate the blood-soaked reality.

He would never measure up to his parents. He would never be his parents.

He hated. He resented.

He had seen the pile of bones beneath the feet of kindness, and he couldn’t forget it.

Zhang Zhaohe gazed at Li Rong’s trembling eyelashes, a smile of pity on his face, and said meaningfully, “At the funeral, the moment I saw you, I knew we were the same kind of person.”

The old and hoarse voice carried on the wind, drilling into his eardrums. The smile, as if blended with ice and snow, pierced straight to the depths of his lungs, sending a shiver down his spine.