That night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Li Rong murmured, “Just how much attention did my parents attract back then? I can hardly remember.”
It had been so long that the memories blurred.
It seemed as though, for months on end, the news about his parents never stopped. Even when he casually browsed his phone, push notifications would pop up quoting so-called scientific pearls of wisdom from them.
Whether it was publishers, restaurants, or universities, anything linked to his parents’ names seemed to gain an almost sacred halo of glory.
For the sake of Luyinxu, they accepted countless interviews during that time—practically one every week. Those interviews were then spun into various soft articles, often pivoting to market fake products under the guise of recommendations by Professor Li.
If judged by entertainment industry standards, their fame could be considered quite high.
Cen Xiao flipped open a thick book and gently placed it over Li Rong’s face. “Sleep.”
Li Rong pulled the book off, lifting his gaze to meet Cen Xiao’s. “With so many reporters waiting to interview me as the son of Li Qingli and Gu Nong, I think the time has come.”
Cen Xiao closed the book and set it aside. Casually pulling Li Rong into his arms, he asked, “You want to follow in your parents’ footsteps?”
Li Rong smirked, his eyes gleaming with a fiery excitement. “They say the higher you climb, the harder you fall; a full moon inevitably wanes. But I insist on walking this path—and I’ll see it through to the end.”
Enduring in silence, scheming in the shadows—none of it brought him satisfaction. If he were to win, he’d win grandly, with all eyes on him.
Cen Xiao kissed him on the lips, his hand naturally reaching for the bedside lamp. In the darkness, his voice was low yet tender. “Do whatever you want. If you fall, I’ll catch you.”
“I know,” Li Rong replied, his voice soft as he melted into the kiss. Wrapping his arms around Cen Xiao’s neck, he burrowed into the warmth of the blanket.
***
The next morning, Li Rong arranged for an interview with a well-regarded, veteran media outlet. The platform’s online presence wasn’t particularly notable, but fortunately, Li Rong didn’t need their traffic.
An hour of interviewing later, he ate a simple sandwich, rested briefly, and then headed straight for Hongsuo Research Institute.
Jiang Weide had just wrapped up an early meeting with a few students and stuffed the vegetable pancake his wife had prepared into his mouth when he received a call from the security guard informing him that Li Rong was there to see him. Jiang Weide sighed, placed the half-eaten pancake back into the lunchbox, and rinsed his mouth several times with mouthwash.
He straightened his jacket, settled into his office chair, and intended to review his students’ expense reports during the time it would take Li Rong to come upstairs. But he found himself unable to focus on anything.
It wasn’t until Li Rong knocked lightly on the door and stepped inside that Jiang Weide felt his thoughts settle. Closing his laptop, he looked at Li Rong.
“Why are you here again? Weren’t you so confident last night, saying you’d handle Luyinxu on your own?”
Jiang Weide’s words carried a hint of reproach, accusing Li Rong of youthful arrogance. However, there was no malice in his tone. In fact, Jiang Weide had barely slept the night before because of Li Rong, and his wife had even sent him breakfast this morning out of concern.
Li Rong sat on the sofa, smiling innocently at Jiang Weide. “Teacher, are you upset because I didn’t look at you yesterday?”
Jiang Weide glared at him but couldn’t help sighing. “I’m not upset. I only taught you one class; we don’t really have much of a connection.”
Li Rong, however, sensed a tinge of dissatisfaction in Jiang Weide’s tone—especially regarding Li Rong’s attention the night before, which had been entirely directed at the three biochemistry professors, leaving Jiang Weide somewhat overlooked.
But their relationship went far deeper than just one class.
Li Rong’s smile slowly faded. In a calm tone, he asked, “Then, teacher, do you feel guilty for not telling me about the High Tower Group?”
In this life, as in the previous one, Jiang Weide had never disclosed the existence of the High Tower Group, leading to numerous details being overlooked.
Jiang Weide froze for a moment, shifting his gaze uncomfortably.
Though he didn’t explicitly admit it, there was a trace of guilt in his demeanor. Jiang Weide wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, and his guilt was written plainly on his face. Of course, Li Rong could see it too—but it was also clear that Jiang Weide didn’t regret his choice.
After a moment of silence, Li Rong spoke evenly. “I came to see you because I realized there was something off about last night.”
Jiang Weide seemed to let out a breath of relief, the guilt in his heart momentarily forgotten. Li Rong rarely aligned with his thoughts, so Jiang Weide was excited, standing up and thumping his desk three times. “You realized something was wrong last night? Do you think Luyinxu is something you can just conjure up? Do you know how much effort your parents poured into it? Tell me, aren’t you being utterly naive?”
Li Rong listened quietly, then blinked and said, “I know it wasn’t easy for my parents to create it, but—”
Jiang Weide rubbed his temples, which were throbbing from exhaustion and agitation, and interrupted, “I understand your urgency. What’s done is done. Let me help you and—”
Li Rong chuckled. “Teacher, you don’t understand. Why would you assume I’d back down?”
Jiang Weide froze. “You’re not here to ask me to stop it?”
Li Rong toyed with the tassels on the hem of his clothes, his tone casual. “Last night, lying in bed, I realized that people often make promises when they’re emotional—like drunk boasting. Once the passion cools, someone with an agenda can easily guide them into reconsidering and completely abandoning their decision. I thought, this can’t happen, so I came to you.”
Jiang Weide: “…”
Li Rong glanced at the digital clock on Jiang Weide’s office wall. “Around this time, those with agendas should be making their moves. Teacher, please make sure the fire is stoked. I can recreate Luyinxu, but the flame mustn’t die.”
Jiang Weide was stunned, unable to form a response.
Li Rong narrowed his eyes slightly and let go of the twisted tassel. “Judging by your expression, has someone already tried to throw cold water on it?”
Jiang Weide: “…”
Li Rong had hit the nail on the head. At 7:30 a.m., Zhang Zhaohe had already discussed the matter in a group chat with others who had attended last night’s meeting. The conclusion was: don’t proceed.
Li Rong stood up and walked toward Jiang Weide, his expression turning serious.
“Was it discussed at a meeting, or was it online? At this time, some of them probably have public lectures at A University, so it’s likely online. Can I see the records?”
Jiang Weide: “You…”
Li Rong’s intelligence and sharpness were undeniable. Jiang Weide still believed that Li Rong’s plan to recreate Luyinxu was pure fantasy, yet every time he tried to apply conventional logic, Li Rong’s actions would shock him and shake his confidence.
Li Rong extended his hand, his tone firm and unyielding. “Let me see, teacher. This is important.”
Jiang Weide looked into Li Rong’s eyes, sensing a peculiar trust in them.
Li Rong was an excellent actor—Jiang Weide had never noticed that Li Rong was capable of independently publishing theories like Li Qingli Hypothesis.
Jiang Weide wasn’t sure whether this trust was genuine or just another layer of Li Rong’s facade. But strangely, he didn’t feel like rejecting him.
He had never fully understood the complex emotions Li Rong held toward him.
By all rights, his public declaration attributing the hypothesis to Hongsuo Research Institute should have been enough to earn Li Rong’s disdain. Yet over all this time, Jiang Weide hadn’t sensed any resentment.
At first, Li Rong had deliberately kept his distance, maintaining a polite facade without showing genuine feelings. But when real challenges arose, like when Suhe Biotech had been overbearing, Li Rong had still come to him for help.
Why had Li Rong thought to turn to him? Why had he believed Jiang Weide might help restart Luyinxu?
It was perplexing.
Lost in thought, Jiang Weide slowly turned his computer screen toward Li Rong and pulled up the meeting records from the Hongsuo internal software.
Yes, the High Tower Group had brazenly used Hongsuo’s work platform to discuss their plans, all without Zhu Yan knowing.
Li Rong leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the screen, and quickly absorbed all the details of the meeting.
[Zhang Zhaohe: I’ve thought about it all night. We need to stay rational about recreating Luyinxu. Using just the memory of a child, the chances of success are slim. If word of this gets out, it’ll put all of our reputations on the line. We’re already established professors in our field. You’ve all analyzed the risks as experts—yesterday, we were simply swayed by Li Rong’s enthusiasm. I understand that.
[Chang Li: Hmm… I was thinking, why not try it secretly first?]
[Yan Youzhong: It’s also Li and Gu’s wish. The kid seems genuinely determined.]
[Li Yongshi: Yesterday, we were indeed carried away, but if he managed to independently publish that hypothesis, he must have some confidence.]
[Zhang Zhaohe: We’re all devoted to scientific research and ready to give it our all. My main concern is still Li Rong. He’s young and has a bright future ahead. If this failure were to damage his confidence or raise public expectations too high, leading him to repeat Li’s downfall… sigh, we can take it, but Li Rong can’t afford another failure. We need to think of him.]
[Chang Li: If the news leaks, public reaction would indeed be a hidden danger. Wasn’t it the overwhelming public backlash that affected Professors Li and Gu back then? Honestly, even now, just thinking about it gives me chills.]
[Yan Youzhong: This… I’ll go with whatever everyone decides.]
[Li Yongshi: This matter does require careful consideration.]
[Zhang Zhaohe: The High Tower Group doesn’t fear failure, but we do have our weaknesses. If we cannot protect Brother Li’s family legacy, I truly won’t be able to sleep at night.]
….
Li Rong read through the conversation quickly and sneered.
Zhang Zhaohe’s manipulations were utterly nauseating. Using Li Rong as a pretext, he shackled Chang Li and the others with a heavy moral burden, making them believe that if the project failed, Li Rong would suffer the same kind of public outrage his parents had endured.
By exploiting a struggle that Li Rong was unlikely to face, Zhang Zhaohe skillfully severed his hope, placing himself in an unassailable position.
Meanwhile, these scientists were likely commending themselves for their prudence and marveling at Zhang Zhaohe’s meticulous foresight.
Li Rong turned to Jiang Weide. “Teacher, I don’t think you fully agree with Zhang Zhaohe’s position, do you? Otherwise, last night, you wouldn’t have looked so worried.”
Li Rong was certain that Jiang Weide did not want him to join the High Tower Group.
Avoiding the sharp subject, Jiang Weide awkwardly muttered, “There’s some truth to what was said. Being cautious isn’t wrong.”
Li Rong frowned, his gaze turning sharp. “Not wrong? Who has been stopping Luyinxu from reappearing? You all blame it on external enemies, even directly hinting at Zhu Yan. But now, when Zhang Zhaohe does the same thing, under a different guise, you suddenly see merit in it?”
“This…” Jiang Weide was at a loss for words.
Li Rong clenched his fists and leaned forward, pressing aggressively. “Have you never once questioned Zhang Zhaohe? After my parents passed, he essentially took over the High Tower Group. But why? Among all you scientists, he was the least qualified to lead! What has he done since assuming control? High Tower had 20,000 members—yet not a single one stepped forward to defend my parents or speak out for them? I can’t believe that out of 20,000 people, there wasn’t a single brave soul. And you—you dared to attend my parents’ funeral, pretending to mourn them! Did any of you ever truly help them, even for a second?”
Jiang Weide flushed red with shame, his temples throbbing as he snapped, “You don’t know the whole story!”
Li Rong’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you?”
Jiang Weide froze.
Li Rong inhaled deeply, suppressing his anger. “I’ve been meaning to ask—what silenced Hongsuo? What prevented you all from speaking up about my parents? If you argue that Zhu Yan was selfish and cowardly, wanting to stay out of trouble, then what about you? What about the High Tower Group? The people who climbed Ta Mountain together, seeking justice for the oppressed? Why did you all become complicit in silence?”
Jiang Weide, dizzy and overwhelmed, collapsed into his chair.
He hadn’t slept all night, and his pale complexion only worsened under Li Rong’s relentless questioning. It took a long moment for him to gather himself.
Jiang Weide’s gaze was weary as he lowered his sagging eyelids and reached for the reading glasses on his desk, placing them on the bridge of his nose.
“At the beginning, everyone was confused. We didn’t even know Luyinxu had been swapped out. Everyone thought it had genuinely caused the children’s deaths. To be honest, in principle, new drugs having issues is something that’s accepted in scientific progress. But emotionally, we all felt for those orphans who died. We thought some of the public’s anger was understandable. Initially, the news wasn’t too outrageous, and we believed it would blow over quickly. Then everything could proceed according to the process—analyzing, improving, and moving forward.
But suddenly, out of nowhere, a mess of wild rumors appeared, and the world turned upside down. By then, it was too late for us to say anything. Any explanations were drowned out in the sea of public outrage. It felt like no matter what we did, nothing would help until that tidal wave of emotion subsided.
Later… your parents didn’t make it through that wave. After they passed away, we thought the public’s emotions had cooled, and we could finally speak up for them. But Zhang Zhaohe said your parents wouldn’t want us to be implicated. They were always so kind, even when pushed to the brink, unwilling to trouble anyone else.
After that, Luyinxu was permanently sealed, and everything was settled. Don’t misunderstand—our silence wasn’t because we feared for our reputations. We truly wanted to respect the wishes of the deceased. We didn’t want them to worry, even in heaven.”
Li Rong shook his head as he listened, then let out a mocking laugh. “Respect the wishes of the deceased? So you let my parents bear false accusations, unable to rest in peace even after death? You stood by as Luyinxu was terminated, its hypothesis dragged through months of redundant scrutiny before it was barely acknowledged. And you call this respect? Forgive me, but my family cannot afford such respect.”
“I doubted it too!” Jiang Weide shouted, slamming the desk in frustration. “But what could I do? Zhang Zhaohe was the last person to see your parents. He said those were their wishes, and those words did sound like something your parents would say!”
Li Rong shook his head, his tone calm. “No. I was the last person to see my parents.”
Jiang Weide froze, then suddenly understood.
Yes, the true last person to see Li Qingli and Gu Nong was not Zhang Zhaohe—it was Li Rong, who had also been hospitalized due to carbon monoxide poisoning.
But no one ever thought to ask Li Rong what happened that night.
Because, in their eyes, Li Rong was just a child.
Li Rong’s cold laugh deepened. “Now I finally understand why Zhang Zhaohe was able to rise to this position, why he could command the entire High Tower Group. He didn’t need to be better than all of you. All he needed was to invoke my parents’ names. As long as you believed those words could’ve come from my parents, you’d obey.”
Jiang Weide’s face turned pale.
He didn’t want to admit it, but Li Rong’s words were true.
As long as Zhang Zhaohe claimed to be carrying out Li Qingli and Gu Nong’s final wishes, the High Tower Group would comply. Anyone who opposed him would be quickly silenced in the name of respecting the deceased.
Over time, no one questioned Zhang Zhaohe anymore. After all, fulfilling the wishes of the deceased seemed more important and aligned with everyone’s moral compass.
Li Rong continued, “I’ve been uncovering the truth about my parents step by step. I’m just a student; you can imagine how hard it was at the beginning. But you, with all your resources and connections, never thought to investigate the truth. If I hadn’t done this, how long would my parents have remained unjustly accused?
Everything Zhang Zhaohe had you do—did any of it truly benefit my parents?
In the past two years, the High Tower Group’s only real action has been sidelining Zhu Yan. But tell me, was that for my parents? My parents had long stated they had no interest in the director’s position. Why would they oppose Zhu Yan?
Think about it. All of this was driven by Zhang Zhaohe’s personal vendetta, not my parents’ wishes. Zhang Zhaohe—whose real name is Zhang Xihai—had his research stolen by Zhu Yan during his graduate years and was then expelled from A University under a pretext. He’s been seeking revenge ever since. Everything he’s done has been to strip Zhu Yan of power.”
Jiang Weide was stunned, muttering to himself, “It was Zhang Zhaohe’s idea to credit your father’s hypothesis to the Hongsuo Research Institute.”
Li Rong wasn’t surprised. “Of course.”
Jiang Weide’s hands trembled as he recalled, his voice shaking. “At the Seven Stars Hotel symposium, news suddenly broke out, catching everyone off guard. As the… incoming director of the Hongsuo Research Institute, I should’ve immediately made a statement. But Zhu Yan said in the group chat that the institute had no knowledge of the submission and that it was likely something Li Qingli had sent out before his accident. I was about to respond accordingly, but Zhang Zhaohe…”
Li Rong finished for him. “Zhang Zhaohe told you to say the Hongsuo Research Institute submitted it. He wasn’t offering a well-thought-out emergency response. He was blatantly challenging Zhu Yan’s authority. What he needed was for you to ignore Zhu Yan’s words and follow his instructions. And you saw the result—once the matter exploded, you were left with the consequences. Zhang Zhaohe had no follow-up plan, and the matter was left unresolved.”
Jiang Weide nodded reluctantly. That incident had indeed left him in a bad position. Although his colleagues didn’t say much on the surface, many harbored silent resentment toward him.
He had no way to defend himself and was left stewing in frustration for a long time.
Li Rong calmly exposed Zhang Zhaohe’s final façade. “You are the next director of the Hongsuo Institute, a figure of integrity with a stellar reputation. That move of Zhang Zhaohe’s hit two targets with one stone—he dragged both you and Zhu Yan off your pedestals.
“If Zhu Yan ever retires, and you become the director, you still wouldn’t pose a threat to Zhang Zhaohe’s position.”
“I’ve never sought power for myself. Why must he… sigh!” Jiang Weide finally understood. Despite his caution and lingering doubts, he had still been manipulated by Zhang Zhaohe.
Li Rong pressed further, not holding back: “What exactly is GT200? Everyone talks about how important it is, but where are the results?”
Jiang Weide sighed and replied, “GT200 isn’t a research project. It’s a recovery and expansion plan for the High Tower Group that Zhang Zhaohe proposed in response to the Luyinxu incident. I’ve never understood why it had to use the GT designation. Zhang Zhaohe only said it was to ‘avoid suspicion.’ At this point, GT200 can be considered a complete success.”
Li Rong sneered. “Avoid suspicion? No, the real reason was to boost his own image. His research abilities are mediocre—if it were about real contributions, his name wouldn’t qualify to be on a GT project.”
Jiang Weide closed his eyes, exhausted, and asked, “When did you start suspecting Zhang Zhaohe?”
Li Rong lowered his gaze, looking at the aging scientist before him. For a moment, he felt a trace of pity for this rigid academician, who had devoted himself to research but been dragged into the mire of power struggles.
“I never trusted him. Teacher, the most important thing now is to prevent him from blocking Luyinxu. Zhang Zhaohe can’t keep exploiting my parents’ legacy forever. He has to turn the High Tower Group’s focus to himself eventually. That’s why he doesn’t want Luyinxu to reinforce my parents’ influence. We can’t let him succeed.”
Jiang Weide was silent for a long time before he let out a heavy sigh. “I understand.”
Right in front of Li Rong, he left a comment in the recently concluded internal discussion:
[I was in a meeting with students earlier and missed the discussion. I think Li Rong’s proposal is feasible. After Luyinxu was sealed, I visited the archives and reviewed the complete data. I still remember parts of it clearly. If there are any uncertainties during the restoration process, I can offer guidance. Most importantly, we still have the assistants who worked with Professors Li and Gu on the original research. The likelihood of success should be high. Li Rong has his parents’ integrity and resilience. He won’t be easily defeated. Everyone, please proceed boldly without reservations.]
Jiang Weide then said solemnly, “I’ll do my best to push this forward, but you must understand, the High Tower Group is under Zhang Zhaohe’s control. In such a large organization, driving any change is incredibly difficult. I can’t promise the results will be what you want.”
Li Rong nodded firmly. “I understand. Thank you, Teacher. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Wait!” Jiang Weide stopped him and hesitated before asking, “Did… your parents leave you any messages?”
Li Rong smiled faintly, an enigmatic expression on his face. “Of course. You’ll know soon enough.”
Jiang Weide wanted to ask more, but seeing Li Rong’s unwillingness to elaborate, he held back.
“Fine, do as you see fit. I’m no match for you in this regard.”
As Li Rong turned to leave, Jiang Weide pulled out a freshly printed document from his drawer. “You think I was bluffing them? Here, take this. I tried to recall as much as I could last night. It might not be comprehensive, but it should help you somewhat.”
After hearing Li Rong’s ambitious plans the day before, Jiang Weide had been deeply concerned that Li Rong might meet the same fate as his parents. He had spent the entire night recalling everything he knew about Luyinxu and hadn’t slept a wink, managing to piece together some valuable insights.
Li Rong was momentarily stunned but quickly concealed his emotions, lowering his head as he took the document. Before leaving, he said softly, “Your wife’s vegetable pancakes are indeed quite delicious.”
“Hmm?” Jiang Weide, still processing everything, watched as Li Rong left his office. He couldn’t quite recall when Li Rong had ever tasted his wife’s pancakes.
Just as Li Rong anticipated, Jiang Weide’s remarks made Chang Li and the others hesitate.
While Li Rong might act impulsively, Jiang Weide would never do so. His credibility in the scientific community was indisputable. If Jiang Weide believed success was highly probable, it essentially guaranteed Li Rong’s endeavor.
Since the likelihood of success was high, there was no reason not to try.
However, Zhang Zhaohe seemed inclined to oppose it.
While the group was still deliberating, The Science Times published a video interview.
Initially unnoticed, the video gained massive traction after a popular celebrity, Lin Zhen, shared it online.
The video’s headline was striking, prominently featuring the names Li Qingli, Gu Nong, and Luyinxu, with the interviewee being none other than their only son, Li Rong, now an outstanding student at A University.
In the interview, Li Rong succinctly addressed key points:
“I deeply appreciate everyone’s efforts to clear my parents’ names and speak up for Luyinxu.”
“Curing patients was my parents’ lifelong wish, and I won’t let them down.”
“The day Luyinxu was restarted, its original materials were accidentally destroyed in the archives.”
“But don’t worry—my parents explained the entire research process for Luyinxu to me before their deaths. With the help of Chang Li, Yan Youzhong, and Li Yongshi from the Hongsuo Institute, as well as guidance from Professor Jiang Weide, I will strive to reconstruct Luyinxu as soon as possible.”
“This project will be named GT201.”
…..
The interview caused an immediate uproar.
The disclosure of the destruction of Luyinxu’s materials—previously a classified secret—sparked outrage:
“Luyinxu destroyed?!”
“Could this be sabotage by remnants of Suhe Biotech? How could such crucial materials be burned? Absurd!”
“Does the investigation team take public sentiment seriously?!”
“Thank goodness Professors Li and Gu passed their knowledge to their son—otherwise, all hope would be lost!”
“Demand an immediate investigation and punishment for those who destroyed Luyinxu!”
“It’s clear someone in the investigation team is complicit. Think about it—who benefits most from Luyinxu’s loss? Suhe Biotech’s Jiaketing, obviously trying to force patients into their trap!”
“I thought production was already underway. This cover-up is laughable!”
“The Li family really is remarkable. It’s up to them again to save the day.”
“Anyone else find that their son seems incredibly reliable, despite being so young?”
“Another talented, handsome student from A University. If it weren’t for this injustice, how happy their family could have been.”
….
The video was released in the evening, requiring hours of editing—indicating Li Rong had planned this announcement well in advance.
Coupled with Jiang Weide’s earlier remarks, the interview left the High Tower Group scrambling.
Chang Li and the other colleagues hadn’t anticipated Li Rong would make the announcement so quickly. Having agreed to support him the night before, they now had no choice but to follow through.
Meanwhile, Zhang Zhaohe, knowing the High Tower Group awaited his response, stayed silent. Clearly, he was still formulating a strategy.
Over at the Hongsuo Institute, Zhu Yan convened an emergency meeting overnight to mitigate the fallout and distance the institute from the controversy.
As Li Rong’s interview gained traction, Cen Xiao watched from his study, noticing the public narrative unfolding exactly as Li Rong had planned. He pinched Li Rong’s smooth ankle and asked, “Satisfied now?”
Li Rong leaned closer, draping his leg over Cen Xiao’s knee. With a mischievous smile, he lifted Cen Xiao’s chin with his finger and said slyly, “Not yet. I still need the ruthlessly decisive Team Leader Cen to help me stage another act.”
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