The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 186

Li Rong’s face carried a smile, but his eyes betrayed an unmistakable disdain. He didn’t want Zhang Zhaohe to lose without understanding why, so before leaving, he left behind a single sentence:

“When you drove my parents to their deaths, did you ever think about this day?”

Upon hearing these words, Zhang Zhaohe’s near-manic demeanor gradually subsided. The ferocity on his face twisted into a mocking sneer. The stark change in his expression made his gaunt and awkwardly protruding muscles appear even more grotesque, yet he resembled a jackal savoring the scent of blood. From Li Rong’s pain, he drew fleeting nourishment and perverse satisfaction.

“So, you’ve figured it out. I’m guessing Han Jiang told you,” Zhang Zhaohe said, taking a deep breath as though the air in the conference room carried a sweet aroma.

His entire body relaxed, as if shedding the last remnants of humanity.

Li Rong looked at him, unable to suppress the wave of disgust rising in his chest.

Though exposing old wounds didn’t hurt him, the fact that it brought Zhang Zhaohe joy was enough to leave a bitter taste.

Zhang Zhaohe closed his eyes, basking in the moment. After a while, he opened them and spoke in a low voice, his pupils narrowing like an owl’s in the dead of night: “You know as well as I do what truly killed your parents. No amount of lies I spun could have destroyed their psychological defenses. What killed them was the very public they loved and sought to save. And…”

He paused, his tone shifting to one of sinister satisfaction. Tilting his head back, he pointed a finger upward toward the ceiling, his face twisting into a malicious grin.

“You know it—the ultimate reason things spiraled out of control, the reason public opinion couldn’t be stopped. It was them, those sanctimonious hypocrites who stayed silent.

Whether it was professors showered in accolades or students at the bottom of the ladder, to them, individuals are insignificant. The pain and sorrow of one person doesn’t deserve acknowledgment or comfort. I was insignificant. Li Qingli was insignificant. And the funniest part? Those other insignificant individuals merely watched, as if such a ‘gift’ would never fall upon their own heads.

Luckily, I saw the truth decades before Li Qingli did: no one is worth saving or sacrificing for. Human nature has always been ugly—it deserves only to be used, trampled, desecrated, and toyed with. I may have done everyone else dirty, but I owe it to myself!”

Zhang Zhaohe jabbed his chest where his heart was with his finger, his thin shoulders trembling with laughter. He pressed harder each time, his voice growing louder and more fervent: “Right here—this heart was stabbed again and again by those I trusted, each time completely defenseless. It makes you confused, disoriented, doubtful, wanting to escape. I simply gave them a key to the door of release. I was helping them!

This world is too dirty, too ugly; it didn’t deserve someone as pure as Li Qingli. Disease is the world’s cleanser, sweeping away the garbage that disgusts it. Why save them? Why, when this is the outcome? Why save them! Such naive benevolence, such foolishness!”

He stared at Li Rong, but it was as if he were looking through him, seeing the ghost of Li Qingli instead.

Through those eyes, he raged at the departed soul. He was baffled, anguished, a voice repeating endlessly: Don’t do this. It’s not worth it. But Li Qingli hadn’t believed him.

He had watched that unguarded, pure soul trampled by the ugliness of human nature. It made him nauseous, made him want to vomit, yet somewhere deep inside, a twisted sense of satisfaction began to grow.

You should have believed me. You should have listened to me all along!

He wanted so badly to grab Li Rong by the shoulders, to glare into those eyes so eerily similar to Li Qingli’s, and demand: “Do you regret it? Do you regret not believing me?!”

But he knew he would never hear an answer.

He had watched, helplessly, as Li Qingli and Gu Nong died that night. He had bid farewell to the only two people who didn’t fit into the world’s mold. And those who remained? Not a single one was worth his pity, hesitation, or attachment.

From that night on, the last flicker of hope he had for humanity was extinguished forever.

If this was the fate of someone like Li Qingli, then truly, there was nothing left to hope for.

Li Rong stared at him coldly, his clear eyes reflecting Zhang Zhaohe’s desperate struggle. “The truth is, you admired my parents, didn’t you? You liked their fiery vitality, their goodness, their trust, their sincerity. You craved that warmth, like a beam of light shining into your cold, dark well.

But you also hated them because they made you doubt yourself, made you waver in your hatred and your desire for revenge. You saw them as opium sent by the world to numb you, to make you forget your painful past. So you needed them to die, to break free from their influence.

At the end of the day, you’re just a twisted, selfish, and ugly person. Don’t cloak yourself in noble excuses. People like you are the reason the world is filthy. It’s not my parents who should’ve left—it’s you and your kind.”

Zhang Zhaohe snapped out of his trance, regaining a chilling calm.

Li Rong’s eyes were so similar to Li Qingli’s yet also starkly different. 

Li Rong wasn’t Li Qingli. His gaze was cold, guarded, hiding schemes and calculations—a poison wrapped in a beautiful shell. Li Qingli’s eyes, however, had been gentle, pure, and warm, like sunlight stripped of its sting.

There was no need for mercy when it came to Li Rong.

Zhang Zhaohe shrugged, his purple-tinged lips cracking into a smile that deepened the grooves on his sagging skin. “I won’t admit defeat. It’s far from over.”

“Heh.” Li Rong glanced at his phone for the time, shook his head in mock regret, and said, “It’s late. The sun’s already set.”

The sun had indeed set. The last streaks of fiery light disappeared from the sky, leaving only a deep blue. Against this backdrop, the distant layers of mountains stood out with rare clarity.

Li Rong’s seemingly casual remark hung in the air as he walked past Zhang Zhaohe and out of the conference room.

In the twilight beneath the darkening sky, the narcissus flowers bloomed innocently. Their petals were pristine white, their fragrance rich and pervasive.

Suddenly, Zhang Zhaohe lunged at the flowers, his fingers tearing at the petals with ferocious force. The leaves trembled under the assault, shredded to pieces until they lay in ruin.

His hands fell limp, letting the fragments of petals slip from his grasp. Gazing out at the fading dusk, he drew a deep breath and murmured to himself, “It’s still early… This isn’t the end…”

Two days later, every spot in the Hongsuo Institute that once displayed dandelion flowers was replaced with forget-me-nots. The small, quiet blooms, in shades of blue and violet, exuded a faint, unobtrusive fragrance. Fragile yet serene, they demanded no attention.

Li Rong left the Hongsuo Institute and hailed a car.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“The dormitories at A University… No.” Li Rong paused, reconsidered, and then said, “To Changjie Lane.”

Changjie Lane was where Aunt Hui and Shen Gui lived.

Li Rong got out of the car and stepped onto the uneven asphalt, dodging puddles and scattered trash as he made his way deeper into the neighborhood.

He stopped near a cluster of trash bins and looked up.

This neighborhood was old and decrepit. The building walls were blackened, the iron grates on the windows covered in heavy rust.

Li Rong vaguely recalled that a few years later, A University initiated a major redevelopment project to demolish and rebuild old and hazardous buildings. Changjie Lane would surely be on the list. By then, the property here would be valuable.

He climbed the stairs.

Xu Tanghui and Shen Gui were sitting at the stairway entrance, chatting and trimming string beans. Tongtong was crouched on a small stool, doing homework.

Tongtong spotted Li Rong instantly. She dropped her pen and ran over excitedly, wrapping her arms around his leg. “Big Brother Li Rong!”

Li Rong looked down, gently stroking Tongtong’s cheek.

A child’s skin was tender, vibrant, full of youthful energy and life.

At that moment, he needed this tangible, grounding force to combat the vast, hollow coldness within him.

Tong Tong tilted her head back, leaning her full weight against Li Rong, her legs swinging. “Brother Li Rong, did you come to see me?”

Li Rong nodded with a smile. “Of course.”

“Yay!” Tong Tong was thoroughly satisfied.

Shen Gui wiped the dirt off her hands and stood up, supporting herself on her knees. She offered Li Rong a grateful smile. “Tongtong hasn’t taken Jiaketing for over two months now, yet her condition hasn’t worsened. She just had a check-up the day before yesterday, and everything’s normal. There’s no difference between her and other kids. I’ve decided not to move anymore. The education here is better, and I’m planning to set up a small food stall to sell the noodles from our hometown. If business goes well, I should be able to earn twice as much as I do now…”

Li Rong smiled warmly, wrapping an arm around Tong Tong’s shoulder. “That’s good. You should stay. Who knows? If this neighborhood gets redeveloped someday, your house might even appreciate in value.”

Shen Gui gave a faint smile, her voice catching with emotion. “Thank you. You saved both me and Tongtong.”

Xu Tanghui hurried back into the house, washed her hands, and pulled out a pack of tissues for Shen Gui. “Oh, don’t start crying all of a sudden. You’ll scare Tongtong.”

Li Rong turned to Xu Tanghui, speaking softly, “Aunt Hui, I’ll be able to clear your name very soon.”

Xu Tanghui froze slightly, her expression trembling before she hurriedly composed herself, masking her emotions.

She gently wiped her hands on the hem of her clothes, over and over, before lowering her head and speaking quietly. “Li Rong, many of the people involved in what happened over a decade ago are still in their positions. If this gets out…”

She knew the full story now—why she had been wronged and why the Ninth District had covered it up.

It was all because she was insignificant. Sacrificing her was a way to ensure stability for others.

Everyone involved had their own motives, using and scheming against one another. Ironically, she was the most marginalized, the one who had known the least.

At first, she had been furious, but as time passed, she began to understand.

She had read many books and knew that history was filled with similar stories and people who shared her plight. This was the harsh reality.

On a larger scale, people like her were inconsequential. But the moment someone tried to uncover the truth, it could trigger unpredictable chain reactions.

Those involved back then included not only the manipulative Zhang Zhaohe and the corrupt Han Jiang but also the university administrators at A University.

If the truth were exposed, the Ghost Eye Group led by Cen Xiao and the prestigious A University, renowned nationwide, would both suffer a blow to their reputations.

Who knew how long it would take for them to rebuild public trust?

She didn’t care about those unrelated to her, but Cen Xiao was in the Ghost Eye Group, and Li Rong, Jian Fu, and Ji Xiaochuan were at A University. She cared about the people around her.

Li Rong shook his head helplessly. “Aunt Hui, you don’t need to think about all that. Whatever the outcome, they’ll get what they deserve.”

Xu Tanghui raised her head, struggling. “But what about Cen Xiao? He just took over the Ghost Eye Group, and now this happens. The public doesn’t care who Han Jiang is—they’ll just blame the Ghost Eye Group. He’ll be the one left to clean up the mess!”

Li Rong was silent for a moment before speaking seriously. “Aunt Hui, it’s been fourteen years. The victims deserve justice. You don’t need to keep wronging yourself.”

Tears welled up in Xu Tanghui’s eyes.

Injustice.

Yes, injustice.

She had been steeped in it for so long that she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

It was Li Rong’s appearance at her food stall that had gradually awakened her sense of injustice, along with something else—hope.

Life works in mysterious ways. Perhaps if she had stayed at A University her whole life, she might never have seen a fair resolution. But then, Li Rong appeared.

And so, she placed her full trust in him, offering him her care and support, bit by bit, until they arrived at this moment.

Xu Tanghui knew that Li Rong, having promised to clear her name, would make it happen.

No matter the cost, he would make it happen.

She nodded slowly, her tears falling as she whispered, “Alright, alright…”

***

That evening, Cen Xiao drove Li Rong home from Changjie lane.

Li Rong had stayed at Aunt Hui’s house for dinner, enjoying Shen Gui’s stewed green beans with ribs and noodles—a dish from Shen Gui’s hometown, bursting with authentic flavor and as good as anything from a high-end restaurant.

He had eaten a little too much and needed some exercise to digest before going to bed.

And so, he and Cen Xiao engaged in a thorough “workout,” after which they cleaned up and lazily sprawled on the bed.

Li Rong rested against Cen Xiao’s chest, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye before leaning his head on his shoulder. “When this gets exposed, you’re going to be really busy, aren’t you?”

Cen Xiao stroked his smooth shoulder and replied softly, “Mm.”

Li Rong sighed. “Aunt Hui’s worried she’ll cause trouble for you.”

Cen Xiao said calmly, “It’s fine. The Ninth District has been out of touch and overly complacent for too long. It could use a wake-up call.”

Li Rong snuggled closer to him, then sat up and looked him in the eye. “Even though I don’t want to say it, deep down, I can’t help but feel…”

Feel sorry for Cen Xiao.

He had considered exposing the matter first and letting Han Jiang handle the fallout, with Cen Xiao stepping in afterward.

But doing so would risk the Ninth District slipping out of their control.

To ensure nothing went wrong, Cen Xiao had to take the lead.

Whether it was apologizing, taking responsibility, compensating victims, or revising policies, it all rested on him.

But in the end, Cen Xiao would bear the brunt of it.

Li Rong couldn’t help but feel heartache.

“I feel incredibly lucky,” Cen Xiao said, pulling Li Rong closer and kissing him on the lips. “To be alive, to stand by your side, and to achieve our goals step by step—I’ve never felt life so meaningful. If I’d known, I would’ve fallen for you earlier. I should’ve loved you the moment I first saw you.”

Li Rong’s eyes shimmered from the kiss, his breath quickened, but he couldn’t resist correcting him. “The first time you saw me, wasn’t I still a child being carried around?”

Cen Xiao chuckled softly. “And now? Aren’t you still a child being carried around? What’s the difference?”

A mischievous glint flashed in Li Rong’s eyes. He knelt on Cen Xiao’s lap, leaned close to his ear, and murmured in a sultry tone, “Of course there’s a difference. Now, I’m being carried by my husband.”