The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 162

Five days later, nearing the weekend, Xiao Muran called Cen Xiao.

Her first question was cautious: “Is Li Rong with you?”

Cen Xiao glanced at the time. It was 10 PM. It wasn’t unusual for Li Rong to be with him at this hour, so he replied, “Yes, we’re having dinner.”

Fresh out of the shower, Li Rong was wrapped in a towel, his upper body bare, with water dripping from his hair. His entire presence carried the refreshing scent of mint body wash.

Hearing Cen Xiao’s reply, he raised an eyebrow and quickly guessed who was on the other end of the call. He immediately quieted his movements, even softening the sound of his slippers sliding across the floor.

He walked over, fragrant and warm, and leaned close to Cen Xiao. Speaking into the phone, he said, “Professor Xiao, I’m here.”

Xiao Muran’s voice softened considerably. “Why are you eating so late? I heard your stomach isn’t great. Make sure to eat at regular times. I know a very good nutritionist. If you need, I can ask her to help you for a while.”

Li Rong smiled. “Thank you, Professor Xiao. I’ve been recovering well.”

After speaking, Li Rong helplessly reached out and tousled Cen Xiao’s hair, his gaze carrying a hint of reassurance.

Xiao Muran’s concern for him clearly surpassed that for her own son, all because of Li Qingli.

If Li Qingli had been successful and happy, Xiao Muran’s guilt over her youthful misunderstandings and her parents’ snobbery would have been limited to minor remorse.

But Li Qingli’s life had been far too tragic, and Xiao Muran had never had the chance to apologize for what had happened. Now, all that regret and guilt were being redirected toward Li Rong.

Yet Li Rong understood. In his previous life, Cen Xiao’s conflicted expressions of affection toward him had largely stemmed from Xiao Muran’s attitude.

No child is indifferent to their parents’ concern; even Cen Xiao, who was forced to mature early, felt the same.

Because he loved Cen Xiao, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pity for him.

For instance, at this moment, he wished Xiao Muran would show some concern for Cen Xiao as well.

Cen Xiao understood what Li Rong was thinking. He smoothly wrapped an arm around Li Rong’s waist, letting his hand glide along his waistline. The damp, cool skin was impossible to resist, and the sweet mint scent steadily seeped into his senses.

Cen Xiao was naturally a strong-willed person, unused to and uninterested in others’ pity. But Li Rong was different.

When Li Rong expressed pity, it was vivid and heartfelt—his eyebrows slightly furrowed, his eyelids lifted just enough, and his moist eyes looked at him with concern. His lips pursed slightly, the corners tilting downward, as if sympathizing while also feeling indignant on his behalf.

Cen Xiao didn’t indulge in self-pity, but he did find the sight before him mesmerizing.

Alive, touching, intoxicating.

A beauty wearing such an expression because of him was, in itself, the greatest solace.

Only then did Xiao Muran belatedly add, “Cen Xiao, you should also avoid overworking yourself. You both should rest early tonight.”

Cen Xiao held Li Rong close as he pulled him into the bedroom. He grabbed a towel and covered Li Rong’s dripping wet hair before asking Xiao Muran, “Did my grandfather say something?”

Xiao Muran replied, “Yes.”

Li Rong paused his towel-drying, and Cen Xiao squinted slightly. “What happened?”

Xiao Muran explained, “Your grandfather said Zhu Yan did, in fact, do something unethical when he was younger, though few people know about it. At that time, your grandfather happened to be teaching history at A University, and the laboratory instructor told him about it. But your grandfather wanted me to warn you: back then, there was no internet, and information didn’t spread as widely. Most people who knew about it have either passed away or faded into obscurity. Time has erased evidence. He advised you to treat it as a rumor, avoid stirring trouble, and definitely not confront Zhu Yan. If you challenge him and fail, you’ll bring trouble upon yourself. If you succeed, it could cause irreparable damage to the Hongsuo Institute.”

The Hongsuo Institute and Blue Pivot United Commerce Association are adversaries, locked in a delicate balance. Their rivalry maintains a stable dynamic in the research industry. If this balance is tipped, the victorious side would likely be consumed by profit, becoming a puppet of capital interests.

Cen Xiao frowned. “I’m not interested in dredging up Zhu Yan’s past. I just want to know his weaknesses.”

Xiao Muran then shared, “Back then, Zhu Yan was the director of a certain faculty at A University—though it wasn’t called the Biochemistry Department at the time, it was something similar. One of his graduate students wrote an impressive paper that they wanted to publish internationally, but their English was poor, so they asked Zhu Yan for help translating and submitting it. Zhu Yan, after reviewing the paper, thought it was excellent and personally translated it. His English was impeccable, and as an expert in the field, his revisions were thorough and precise. But when he submitted the paper, he listed himself as the first author.”

Li Rong stopped drying his hair and shook his head slightly, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes.

Zhu Yan’s actions reduced the student to the second author—a significant demotion in the academic world. Everyone in research understands the chasm between first and second authorship.

No matter how exceptional Zhu Yan’s translation skills were, it was still unjust to the student.

But in that era of limited resources and no internet, an underprivileged student had no way to defend themselves.

Cen Xiao, though less familiar with academic norms, understood enough. “So Zhu Yan stole his student’s work?”

Xiao Muran elaborated, “It could be called theft, though some might argue he contributed decisively by translating it. As a mentor, he felt entitled to such ‘tributes.’ Back then, such practices were common, and perceptions differed from today’s standards.”

Li Rong chuckled softly. “Now that ethics have tightened and the industry is better regulated, Zhu Yan likely wouldn’t even consider apologizing, would he?”

Xiao Muran smiled bitterly. 

Of course not. These buried secrets were meant to decay with time, never to resurface.

“That student was headstrong and principled—intolerant of injustice. They demanded Zhu Yan admit the truth, petitioned the dean, and sought peer support, insisting the first authorship be corrected. But Zhu Yan wouldn’t agree. Public exposure would blacklist him with journals and reviewers. Later, a chemical leak occurred in Zhu Yan’s lab. The student was seen at the scene, and Zhu Yan used it as grounds to expel them without even letting them graduate with a master’s degree. The lab was sealed, and the student vanished.”

The rusted bronze plaque still swayed on the fading wall, and the shattered, pitch-black windows were layered with dust and cobwebs.

Memories sealed for more than thirty years, along with decayed desks, chairs, and mops, were trapped in the narrow, low bungalow.

It was like an isolated island in A University, overgrown with weeds and forgotten by everyone. If not for their panicked misstep that led them here, no one would have seen the mottled plaque, nor deciphered the faintly visible words “Zhu Yan.”

Li Rong lowered his gaze slightly and asked softly, “Was it really the student’s operational error?”

Xiao Muran replied honestly, “I don’t know.”

Perhaps it was. After all, the student was anxious and stubborn, harboring resentment toward Zhu Yan. In a moment of impulsiveness, they might have destroyed the laboratory.

Or perhaps it wasn’t. Zhu Yan might have considered the student a liability and found an excuse to send them away.

Cen Xiao asked calmly, “What was the student’s name?”

Xiao Muran: “I don’t know. No name, no distinction, just an ordinary person—who would remember their name?”

Cen Xiao: “Weren’t there articles published back then? Compare the years and dates; we can surely find something.”

Xiao Muran chuckled, “Zhu Yan has published way too many articles, mentored far too many students, and there are plenty of articles credited to him that he didn’t even write. Back in those days, many things were unregulated, and people didn’t care much about protecting their reputation.”

Cen Xiao wasn’t so easily discouraged. He said calmly, “No rush. Let’s investigate slowly. Maybe we’ll find something.”

Xiao Muran: “That’s all I’ve managed to gather. To many people, this is just a trivial matter. My father looked down on Zhu Yan, probably more out of his own intellectual arrogance. This incident was merely a tool to criticize Zhu Yan’s worldliness. But I’m sorry—it seems to have nothing to do with your parents. Both of them studied abroad and were never Zhu Yan’s students.”

Li Rong expressed gratitude, “I understand. Thank you anyway.”

Xiao Muran: “No need to thank me; I didn’t do much. But I do want to remind you to be cautious. On one hand, I think your parents’ situation is extremely complex. On the other, I really hope it isn’t. If Zhu Yan is indeed involved, then… too many people are tied together in a chain of interests, forming an unbreakable alliance. I’m genuinely worried about your safety.”

Xiao Muran’s words were spot on. In his past life, before Li Rong even uncovered the core secrets, people couldn’t wait to act.

Cen Xiao, however, remained far from optimistic.

This matter was bound to be complex, with numerous people entangled in the chain of interests. After all, Du Mingli’s final words before his death were righteously focused on the “greater good.”

After hanging up the phone, Li Rong comforted Cen Xiao instead.

“Even though we don’t yet know the connection to my parents, at least we’ve found Zhu Yan’s weak spot.”

Cen Xiao pushed him onto the bed and covered his bare skin with a blanket. “Let Jian Fu investigate slowly. For now, the most important thing is Suhe Biotech.”

Wrapped in the blanket, Li Rong kicked his legs, tossing the towel tied around his waist out of the bed. It slid to the floor. “Maybe it’s just my preconceived notion, but I can’t help feeling that the student was Zhang Zhaohe. Yet over the years, Zhang Zhaohe hasn’t made any significant contributions to academia. Even in class, he merely reads from PowerPoint slides. He’s deeply calculating and skilled in manipulation—completely unlike the person in the story.”

Cen Xiao picked up the wet towel, grabbed Li Rong’s slender ankle, and tucked it back under the blanket.

“If it really were Zhang Zhaohe, what would he gain from returning to A University just to become a failure that even students despise?”

Li Rong frowned, pondering for a moment. Then he abruptly sat up, letting the thin blanket slip down his chest. “For normal people, the goal would be to surpass Zhu Yan academically, take his place, and then expose the truth to seek justice.”

That’s precisely his own motivation. He wanted to develop a cure for bacterial progeria and crush Suhe Biotech’s drug, Jiaketing.

Murmuring to himself, Li Rong added, “Zheng Zhupan’s pride is Jiaketing. If I want revenge, it has to start there. But what if Zhu Yan doesn’t value his academic achievements the most?”

Cen Xiao: “Someone who’s spent decades in research—how could they not care about academic accomplishments?”

Li Rong slowly shook his head, his gaze growing colder. “Zhu Yan is over seventy now and needs assistance just to walk, yet he stubbornly refuses to relinquish the position of director at Hongsuo Research Institute to Jiang Weide. What he values most is power. If I want revenge, I need to make him feel the loss of power—to turn him into a puppet, a marionette.”

Cen Xiao reached out, lifting Li Rong’s chin with a steady, gentle gaze. “For someone so clever, why is it that when you tried to deal with me before, all you could do was shout insults and resort to violence?”

Li Rong looked into Cen Xiao’s eyes for a few seconds, then smiled faintly, rubbing his chin against Cen Xiao’s fingers. “What should I have done? Cut myself every day?”

He was indeed smart. He had always known that Cen Xiao’s greatest vulnerability was himself. That had also been his greatest frustration. To hurt Cen Xiao, he had to hurt himself.

Cen Xiao snorted lightly. “It’s not like you haven’t done that before.”

Li Rong knelt up, wrapping his arms around Cen Xiao’s neck and leaning in, his eyes sparkling. “Exactly. I’m both calculating and ruthless, but you’ll always feel sorry for me.”