The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 16

[Song Yuanyuan: Li Rong, why aren’t you replying to my messages?]

[Song Yuanyuan: My birthday party is this weekend. You have to come. I’ll be waiting for you.]

[Song Yuanyuan: Do you still remember last year when we watched the stars together at the Cloud Top Café?]

Li Rong’s phone still held all the chat records between him and Song Yuanyuan.

For now, Song Yuanyuan wasn’t at the point of screaming hysterically at him, cursing him to h*ll.

Their true falling out didn’t happen until a year after graduating from university.

Song Yuanyuan had gone to Cen Xiao’s house, trying to curry favor, bringing along a homemade lychee mousse. After knocking on the door for ages without a response, she was about to leave, heartbroken, when the door was pulled open by Li Rong.

Li Rong was dressed in the white lab coat he only wore in the laboratory. The loose, oversized sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing a stretch of pale, slender skin.

His hair was damp, clinging to his ears, his brows furrowed impatiently, and his eyes carried a coldness that could almost freeze.

“I told you, packages don’t need to knock…”

The two locked eyes and said nothing.

Song Yuanyuan’s sharp eyes caught sight of the fresh, reddish bite mark half-hidden beneath the collar of his lab coat.

Li Rong, who spent most of his time in the lab and rarely saw sunlight, had enviably fair skin, making the bite mark stand out all the more.

The familiar childhood friend, with his delicate and striking looks, appeared in the home of the man she was pursuing—his collarbone marked with someone else’s intimate traces.

Song Yuanyuan was no naïve girl anymore. One look at Li Rong was enough to guess what had just happened inside.

Her face turned deathly pale, her lips trembled, and she suddenly screamed hoarsely, “Don’t tell me you’re not even wearing clothes under that!”

Li Rong: “…”

He was wearing clothes, though not much. But he figured Song Yuanyuan didn’t need to know the details.

From the living room, Cen Xiao had heard everything. Yet, he casually strolled over, completely ignoring Song Yuanyuan. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Li Rong’s waist from behind, resting a palm on Li Rong’s neck. As he lightly nuzzled his chin against Li Rong’s shoulder, he murmured a low warning:“Your pulse is racing. It better not be because you still have feelings for her.”

Li Rong, trapped, his muscles taut, his icy gaze trembling violently, gritted his teeth and hissed, “If you leave another mark on me, I’ll drive a scalpel straight into your heart.”

Song Yuanyuan’s expression shattered completely.

Li Rong slammed the door shut and retaliated by sinking his teeth hard into Cen Xiao’s Adam’s apple.

For the next week, everyone in Blue Pivot District 3 only saw Cen Xiao wearing turtleneck sweaters.

The past was simply unbearable to recall.

Li Rong took a break from one of his classes, wrapped himself in his thick coat, and wandered around the mall for a bit.

Leaning on the counter and propping his chin with one hand, he lingered for a long while at the jewelry shop before finally pointing at a pair of star-shaped earrings.

“How well do these sell?”

The shop assistant plastered on a professional smile. “You have great taste! This design is one of our best-sellers. It’s clear you’ve done your homework.”

Li Rong’s lips quirked into a lazy smile as he shook his head. “Not really. I can just barely afford it.”

The assistant’s smile faltered, her eyes discreetly scanning Li Rong. 

Though his clothes looked expensive, he appeared young—likely someone whose allowance was tightly controlled by his family. 

Trying to recover, she offered a practiced suggestion: “Are these for your girlfriend? This design symbolizes ‘love’ and would definitely make her happy.” She even turned the earrings around to reveal the word love engraved on the back of the stars.

Li Rong frowned in thought for a moment, then asked, “If my girlfriend likes them, but my boyfriend gets angry, what should I do?”

The assistant froze. “What?”

Li Rong sighed softly, rubbing his temple in frustration. “Forget it. I’ll pass.”

After Li Rong left, the assistant whispered to her colleague, “Teenagers these days are out of control—two-timing across genders, no less.”

The colleague replied, “Well, good looks attract trouble, I suppose.”

In the end, Li Rong bought a wheat-shaped brooch, devoid of any romantic symbolism.

He had no intention of embarrassing a 17-year-old girl in front of everyone. The Song family didn’t need to humiliate him, and he didn’t need to expend energy seeking revenge. Avoiding an ugly spectacle altogether was the wiser choice; they could simply go their separate ways from now on.

Song Yuanyuan was in Class 7, which was separated from the experimental class by a courtyard—close enough to see but not quite to hear.

Climbing to the sixth floor left Li Rong gasping for breath. He suppressed a cough, rubbed his warm palms against his throat to ease the discomfort, and waited for his breathing to steady before pulling out a jewelry box.

The box, warmed by his coat pocket, had cooled instantly in the chilly hallway breeze. Just as Li Rong prepared to call out, he noticed Song Yuanyuan in the middle of an argument.

“Hey, Song Yuanyuan, isn’t Li Rong supposed to be your boyfriend? Why are you always messaging Cen Xiao?”

“Pu…. No way—Song Yuanyuan, you haven’t broken up yet? You must not know the juicy gossip. Hongsuo’s internal memo basically labeled his parents as ‘blemished scholars.’”

“Your family’s so close to the Li family, you’re probably not clean either, huh? Birds of a feather, right?”

“Now that I think about it, your bragging about your boyfriend back then is hilarious… Actually, I feel kind of bad for you.”

The mockery came from a group of girls with family ties to Hongsuo, who had long disliked Song Yuanyuan for being named class beauty and dating Li Rong.

But times had changed, and associating with the Li family was no longer a point of pride.

Song Yuanyuan’s face flushed red. Feeling acutely sensitive, she snapped back sharply, “Li Rong and I broke up ages ago. Stop spouting nonsense!”

“Oh? Funny how we never heard about a breakup. Didn’t you just go looking for him the other day?”

Song Yuanyuan smirked coldly, lifting her chin with disdain. “Sorry I didn’t send you a memo. Instead of gossiping about others, why not focus on your test scores? Failing to get into A University would be far more embarrassing than dating the son of so-called blemished scholars.”

“And yet, you’re still the bigger embarrassment. My mom told me to stay far away from the Li family ages ago.”

Song Yuanyuan’s chest heaved with anger, though she forced herself to maintain an air of superiority. “For your information, my family is as upright as they come. We cut ties with the Li family long ago.”

With that, she flicked her ponytail, scoffed, and headed toward the water room with her thermos.

As she passed the second row of desks, she suddenly took a deep breath and lashed out, kicking the chair of the girl next to her. The startled girl jerked in fright, her pen leaving a jagged mark across her paper.

“Ji Xiaochuan! Can’t you stop eating sausages in the classroom? The smell is revolting! I’ve never seen anyone as disgusting as you!”

The girl, Ji Xiaochuan, glanced at Song Yuanyuan, then ducked her head, her fingers clenching nervously against her desk until her knuckles cracked.

“I… I was hungry… Yesterday—”

Song Yuanyuan cut her off with a deliberate shout. “You mute or what? Talking to you feels like it takes years off my life!”

The other Hongsuo girls, seeing Ji Xiaochuan’s embarrassed state, shifted their mockery to her.

“Oh my god, the smell is wafting over here—it’s all artificial flavoring. My dad wouldn’t let me touch junk like that.”

“Ugh, can we change seats?”

“Hey, remember last time Ji Xiaochuan tried talking to Cui Mingyang from the experimental class? He literally ran off—hilarious!”

Ji Xiaochuan’s breathing quickened, her uneven bangs shadowing her round eyes. At the corner of her eye was a crescent-shaped bruise, adding a touch of desperation to her already distressed expression.

“I… I didn’t… talk… to him.”

Song Yuanyuan sneered, “Don’t you dare talk to me either!”

Li Rong stood quietly by the door, and his mind wandered to the faint smell of grilled sausages that sometimes drifted through the corridors of the Hongsuo Laboratory.

Ji Xiaochuan—always scoring full marks in practical experiments, a prodigy whose eyes and hands were sharper than any precision instrument.

Unfortunately, she was introverted and withdrawn, with few friends. Most of her time was spent tucked away in the safety corridors of the laboratory, eating sausages while reading.

Li Rong’s impression of her ended there. They weren’t in the same team or working on the same project. The only thing he noticed was that every time he went to the lab, Ji Xiaochuan was always working overtime.

There were rumors about her. Some said she stuttered because she had suffered from abuse as a child, even from her own parents, who supposedly disliked her.

Li Rong felt like he had just witnessed a dramatic yet absurd farce.

The girls from Hongsuo didn’t genuinely avoid Li’s family. In truth, with their parents’ standings in the organization, they likely wouldn’t even have the chance to meet Professor Li. They just used it as an excuse to ridicule Song Yuanyuan.

Song Yuanyuan’s relationship with Li Rong was their best weapon for mockery—they could openly criticize, ridicule, and curse her.

To divert the humiliation and anger, Song Yuanyuan turned her target onto the stuttering Ji Xiaochuan.

In the classroom, loners or those with visible flaws often became the collective source of entertainment. By targeting someone else, they could skillfully extricate themselves from the vortex of ridicule.

Oppressed individuals, to avoid moral scrutiny and baseless verbal assaults, often transformed into oppressors in another instance of violence.

No one dared to resist. Following even flawed rules is a universal trait of the timid.

This was why Li Qingli and Gu Nong became victims of public opinion too.

That day, the “scarf Auntie” had said that students who had received gloves and hats from her must have known his parents were good people.

Li Rong merely smiled and didn’t ruin a middle-aged woman’s beautiful delusion.

The truth was, no one did—not then, nor in the six years that followed. Not a single one of his parents’ students dared to tell others they were good people.

Everything was silent, like the Dead Sea. All sound had been buried under the sands of time.

Song Yuanyuan crossed by Ji Xiaochuan’s desk, lifted her head, and froze when she saw Li Rong leaning against the doorframe.

Li Rong wore a pure white coat, slightly open at the collar, revealing a slender neck tinged with redness.

Despite his lean build, his languid posture made him captivating. His soft, medium-length hair fell just past his earlobes, and the curled ends of his sideburns were a gentle, light brown.

He looked at her, lips pressed into a faint smile. His clear, bright eyes reflected her delicate face.

Song Yuanyuan’s throat tightened as she gripped her thermos. Her mind felt blank.

She hadn’t been like this before.

With Li Rong, she used to be a sweet, lively, and considerate girl. Once, when they went to a bookstore and encountered a beggar, Li Rong had coldly remarked that the man was a scammer, while she had given ten yuan without caring if it was a con.

She had been softer-hearted than Li Rong.

She wasn’t like this now.

“Li Rong,” Song Yuanyuan called softly.

The entire class fell silent. Though they claimed to want nothing to do with him, his actual presence subdued them.

Attractive and talented people naturally inspire awe.

Li Rong straightened up, pushing off the doorframe, and walked into the classroom. He brushed past the rigid Song Yuanyuan and stopped beside Ji Xiaochuan.

With a helpless smile, he sighed. “I’d suggest you stop wasting time feeling inferior. If you have energy, learn more about university-level subjects. One day, you’ll leave them far behind.”

Ji Xiaochuan blinked wide eyes, staring at him blankly, as if she hadn’t understood a word.

She’d never spoken to someone like Li Rong. Even though people said he had fallen from grace, to her, he still felt unreachable.

Ji Xiaochuan bit her dry lips and nervously gripped her knees, her pale fingers digging into them.

“I…you…”

“If you dress up a little in the future, you’ll look much better than them. Here, this brooch suits you.” Li Rong placed a small box in front of her. His long fingers were clean and elegant, making even casual movements exude charm. “When these people come begging you to help with experiments one day, remember to hold a grudge. I don’t have much respect for pushovers.”

His eyes twinkled as he spoke, half-jokingly. His upturned, peach blossom-shaped eyes shimmered with endless allure.

Ji Xiaochuan stared at him, frozen. She didn’t dare say a word. The delicate, beautiful box laid just ten centimeters away from her.

How could he say it suited her? She was so plain, so messy, so embarrassing.

Why would Li Rong say she could get better?

Seeing her startled expression, Li Rong fell into thought.

Perhaps what he said about the future was too shocking for a 17-year-old girl.

After all, Ji Xiaochuan’s mental defenses were rather fragile.

So, he added, “Well, you could help me with experiments in the future. I don’t mind the smell of sausages.”

With that, Li Rong felt he’d done enough.

He and Ji Xiaochuan barely interacted. He was simply empathizing with her, a small gesture of solidarity, much like how people had once treated his parents.

After saying his piece, he wrinkled his nose, shoved his cold fingers into his coat pockets, and casually left Class 7.

Ji Xiaochuan watched his retreating figure in a daze. Beyond the large glass window, the midday sun shone brilliantly. It pierced through clouds, autumn winds, crimson leaves, and swirling dust.

It fell upon Li Rong, lighting him up, radiant and beautiful, as if it could mend the cracks that had been there for so long.

Class 7 and the experimental class were directly across from each other, and rumors spread as quickly as sound waves.

“The experimental class’s Li Rong gave a gift to that stuttering girl in Class 7!”

The words floated right to Li Rong’s ears as he stepped out of Class 7.

Li Rong walked several extra kilometers to visit the mall, burning off a few hundred calories in the process, and returned completely listless.

Cen Xiao offered a frosty comment in response: “Attracting bees and butterflies.”

Li Rong propped his chin on one hand, tilting his head toward Cen Xiao. His eyebrows knit together, his eyes drooped slightly, and he wore an exaggeratedly pitiful expression. “How am I attracting bees and butterflies? I’m completely innocent.”

Cen Xiao secretly enjoyed seeing Li Rong’s aggrieved look, but knowing he’d given a gift to another girl left him too annoyed to engage.

Of course, he didn’t think Li Rong actually liked anyone. For Li Rong, “liking” was such an insignificant emotion.

Li Rong raised a brow, scrutinizing Cen Xiao’s expression. The fleeting smile on his lips faded, and then he slowly, languidly explained, his voice soft and syrupy, like a red bean cake melting in one’s mouth.

“I just wanted to give my girlfriend a birthday present, but who knew she’d have such a squeaky-clean background? It didn’t go over well. She invited you too, didn’t she? Or don’t tell me you didn’t prepare a gift?”

After speaking, Li Rong fixed his gaze on Cen Xiao. His eyes were slightly deep-set, with heavy eyelids, and his left eye folded into a faint double crease when he blinked, giving his stare a somewhat interrogative intensity.

Despite his repeated references to “girlfriend,” he was the one brazenly questioning others.

Cen Xiao felt an urge to reach over and smooth out those faint creases, but he suppressed it with a ten-second effort. His response was equally frosty: “No, I didn’t.”

“Hmph.” Li Rong didn’t seem surprised by this answer, but his expression shifted. He suddenly puffed out his undereye area, adopting a somewhat coy, playful look. With eager anticipation, he asked, “But on November 17, will you prepare one?”