The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 27

Li Rong felt the warmth of Cen Xiao’s palm, his gaze falling as he allowed himself to lean slightly into the touch.

Cen Xiao’s fingers were dry, callused from years of training with firearms, yet they carried a solidity and strength that brought an inexplicable sense of safety.

Li Rong didn’t speak, but the tension in his body gradually eased. He slowly lifted the knife embedded near the man’s neck. The blade, stained with blood, left the floor a chaotic mess.

The bright chandelier in the living room cast light directly above his head. Stray strands of hair shadowed his face, concealing his tumultuous emotions.

Flipping the blade, he avoided the man’s vital areas and, bracing his knee against the hard ground, stood up with effort.

The man finally dared to cover the wound on his neck with his left hand, breathing heavily with relief.

He realized the wound wasn’t deep. His eyes, on the verge of shattering from fear, gradually returned to normal.

Cen Xiao released Li Rong’s chin, moving instead to grasp his wrist. In a flat tone, he said to the man on the ground, “Don’t move.”

The man locked eyes with Cen Xiao for a split second, immediately clamping his mouth shut as chills ran down his spine.

This person, from the moment he entered, seemed utterly indifferent to his life or death. The blood and knife marks on the ground didn’t faze him.

This unnerving calmness and detachment exerted even greater pressure and terror.

If the delicate one might kill him in a fit of emotional instability, this man would likely end him without batting an eye.

The man didn’t dare move.

Cen Xiao led Li Rong to the sink, lowering his gaze to Li Rong’s bloodstained hands. He reached out, intent on taking the knife from him.

Li Rong instinctively flinched.

Cen Xiao sighed softly, using a bit of force to pry the bloodied knife from Li Rong’s hand.

“With me here, you don’t need this.”

Only then did Li Rong loosen his grip, watching as Cen Xiao threw the knife into the sink. The clattering of the blade echoed as it spun and settled.

Cen Xiao turned on the faucet, and a strong stream of water cascaded over the knife’s handle and blade. The blood quickly diluted and spiraled down the drain. Adjusting the water flow to a gentler stream, he rolled up Li Rong’s sleeves and guided his right hand under the water.

The water was cold, with a slight stinging impact. As soon as the droplets hit his fingertips, Li Rong reflexively curled his fingers.

Cen Xiao, unyielding, gripped each of his fingers firmly, washing them meticulously under the running water. Li Rong’s fingers were long and slender, pale to the point of translucence, with visible veins beneath the skin. Other than the slight callous from gripping a pen, his hands bore no other signs of wear.

His palms were especially soft, the intricate lines crisscrossing faintly under the stark white light. His lifeline, in particular, was almost indistinct, intertwined with other lines in a chaotic pattern.

Cen Xiao’s touch was thorough, his fingers carefully rubbing away the dried blood trapped in the crevices and beneath Li Rong’s nails. Watching his hand gradually return to its original fair color, Li Rong’s expression remained calm, and his breathing steadied.

Cen Xiao then applied a small amount of hand soap, spreading the creamy lather over Li Rong’s hand, suppressing the lingering scent of blood. 

After rinsing off the foam, he released Li Rong’s wrist and handed him a paper towel.

Li Rong clutched the paper towel, lowering his gaze to glance at his wrist.

Though Cen Xiao hadn’t applied much force, the prolonged grip had left faint marks on the bones of his wrist.

He thought to himself, had his aim faltered earlier, plunging the knife into the man’s artery, Cen Xiao would likely still have washed his fingers just as calmly.

Cen Xiao dried his own hands before walking back to the entryway. 

He crouched down beside the man with tawny-yellow skin, who was clutching his neck in pain and drenched in sweat.

Picking up a crumpled kraft paper envelope from the floor, Cen Xiao turned it over in his hands. There was no label on the outside, just two faded black letters, “GT,” scribbled in the lower left corner.

The envelope was worn, and the letters had begun to fade. Inside, it was bulging with a thick stack of papers.

Cen Xiao tossed the used paper towel onto the pool of blood by the man’s neck, where it quickly soaked through again.

“Talk. What were you here for?”

The tawny-skinned man gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse and trembling. “Could you… at least fix my arm first? I… I swear I won’t resist. It just hurts so much.”

Cen Xiao smirked faintly, his gaze falling to the knife wound on the man’s neck.

“I don’t negotiate.”

In the bathroom, Li Rong supported himself on the sink, his back to the entryway. When he heard Cen Xiao’s words, his eyelids twitched slightly.

Cen Xiao truly didn’t negotiate. Whatever he did, he ensured that others had no room for choice.

He had once treated Li Rong the same way.

The tawny-skinned man timidly scooted back, dragging his limp right arm. With great effort, he sat upright, no longer daring to make demands. Clearing his throat cautiously, he began, “I… I just like to pinch things now and then. I just got out of detention a few days ago, and someone heard about my… skills. They hired me to steal this envelope. Said it contained evidence someone was using for blackmail, and they wanted it destroyed. Honestly, I didn’t buy it. They probably just owed money and didn’t want to pay it back. Offered me ten grand up front.”

“Before coming, I scoped the place out and asked around. I heard the adults in this family were… gone. Supposedly…” The man hesitated, glancing nervously at Li Rong’s frail figure and pale hands before swallowing the rest of his words. “Supposedly, it’s just a high schooler left. I figured it’d be easy. Never thought…”

Never thought this high schooler, looking so weak and pale, could strike so brutally.

If he’d known, he’d never have taken this job.

Li Rong lowered his head slightly, staring at the knife lying in the sink. His voice, cool and weary, broke the silence.

“Who hired you?”

The tawny-skinned man paused, processing the question, before stammering, “I don’t know him. He was wearing a mask, a hat, and sunglasses—went out of his way to hide his face.” A spark of realization lit his face as he blurted out the details. “Oh! He’s not young—had some white hair. Not tall either, definitely under six feet. Not thin. His voice was really deep. That’s all I noticed. Paid in cash, half upfront.”

Cen Xiao glanced at Li Rong, noting his lack of reaction.

He understood. Based on the man’s description, Li Rong didn’t recognize the person.

“When’s the delivery?” Cen Xiao asked.

The man shook his head frantically, replying cautiously, “No delivery. He said to steal it and burn it, then pretend nothing happened.”

“And the rest of the payment?”

“Uh… He said to burn it near the Bailean metro entrance on Chongyang Festival, then the rest of the money would be in the nearby greenery, hidden in a bundle of paper money. No one would notice.”

Bailean metro was one of the busiest transit hubs in the city, connecting four major lines. Even on Chongyang Festival, the area was teeming with people.

On that day, the city allowed paper offerings to be burned in public. Lighting them at a metro entrance in a commercial district wouldn’t raise suspicion.

The man was cautious, leaving no openings for his identity to be exposed.

Cen Xiao stared at him intently. 

Years of experience told him the man was telling the truth. Judging by his demeanor and attire, his petty criminal identity checked out.

But Cen Xiao would still confirm it later.

He stood silently, waiting for Li Rong to respond.

He didn’t know what was inside the brown paper bag, but Li Rong did.

The brown-skinned man quickly tried to show his sincerity: “That’s really all I know, I’ve told you everything. Why don’t you call the police? Let them catch that guy. I can even help with… what’s it called? A sketch? Or identification?”

Li Rong took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the sink’s ceramic surface tightly.

Countless chaotic pieces of information flashed through his mind—this life’s, the last life’s. They were like shards of broken glass scattered across the floor, impossible to piece together no matter how hard he tried.

Based on the man’s description, Li Rong was sure he had no memory of this person. He could confirm with certainty that he had never met them.

But why would this person want to destroy his father’s manuscripts?

He had read every word on those manuscripts in recent days. Apart from the CAR-T optimization and CRS mitigation hypotheses that Li Baishou was after, there was nothing particularly valuable or groundbreaking.

The rest of the manuscripts’ contents had long since been published as papers—some of them even included in textbooks.

Those things could be found in greater detail in databases and books, so what was this person so afraid of?

The only thing Li Rong was certain of was that the person who hired this man wasn’t Li Baishou.

Although Li Baishou hadn’t been able to obtain his father’s hard drive from the investigation team, he had no reason to rush.

After all, no one would ever suspect that the son of Li Qingli, who had just started his senior year of high school, could organize that research paper and submit it to an international journal.

Moreover, Li Baishou didn’t know where Li Qingli’s manuscripts were stored or what they looked like. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left so easily last time.

Having the man burn the manuscripts immediately also didn’t align with Li Baishou’s interests—he only wanted the hypothesis, not its destruction.

Cen Xiao stood up, holding the brown envelope, and approached Li Rong. He glanced at Li Rong’s pale, tightly clenched fingers.

Cen Xiao patted his back gently, signaling him to turn around.

“What are you overlooking?”

Li Rong’s body stiffened, and he immediately turned to meet Cen Xiao’s gaze.

He suddenly realized how close Cen Xiao was standing—close enough that he couldn’t avoid feeling the warmth radiating from him.

At this distance, Li Rong had to tilt his head up to look at him.

Cen Xiao stared at his bloodshot eyes and pale lips before placing the brown paper envelope in his arms.

Then Cen Xiao’s hand slid downward, resting firmly on Li Rong’s narrow waist. “Calm down. The fact that they randomly found some nobody for the job shows they’re getting desperate.”

Li Rong lowered his gaze, instinctively tensing his abdomen.

Even through clothing, Cen Xiao’s intimate gestures still triggered a reflexive reaction.

At this distance, in this posture, Cen Xiao could easily pin him against the sink and kiss him.

He absolutely would have done so in the past.

But—

This boundary-pushing closeness managed to pull Li Rong out of his anger and rash thoughts.

If these manuscripts were worth destroying, there must have been something within them someone didn’t want anyone else to see.

Already-published papers and findings didn’t count. Excluding those, there had to be something in the manuscripts he had overlooked.

The one point of doubt he’d hesitated over was the torn section of the manuscript.

But he had always assumed his father had torn it out himself.

Li Rong immediately untied the twine, pulling out all the manuscripts from the brown paper bag.

At this point, there was nothing to hide from Cen Xiao.

He ran his fingers along the red adhesive tape lining the edges of the manuscript, searching until he found the clearly missing section.

It was indeed missing. He gently touched the paper, as if trying to feel the emotions Li Qingli had when writing it.

Focus, seriousness, a deep respect for life, and a fervent passion for science.

Cen Xiao took one glance and said plainly, “There’s a section missing.”

Li Rong’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he frowned slightly. “It wasn’t my father who tore it out.”

That part must have been crucial—so important that someone had to specifically locate and destroy it within the thick manuscript.

Cen Xiao didn’t understand the specialized knowledge in Li Qingli’s manuscripts, but he knew Li Rong probably did. Yet since Li Rong wasn’t reacting strongly to the remaining manuscripts, it meant that on the surface, nothing seemed unusual.

Cen Xiao lightly patted his waist, coaxing him: “There must be something left behind.”

Li Rong’s eyelids twitched slightly, his breathing growing heavier.

Yes.

Something must have been left behind, or else they wouldn’t have taken the risk to steal it again.

But what exactly was left?

Under Cen Xiao’s hand, Li Rong couldn’t help but turn around, holding the manuscript up to the light.

When the light hit the seemingly smooth surface of the paper, the unavoidable impressions of heavy handwriting revealed subtle changes in light and shadow.

Li Rong squinted, scrutinizing every corner meticulously.

Sure enough.

At the top of one page, faint, shiny characters emerged from beneath a chemical structure diagram—

Mission accomplished, awaiting good news.

Beyond that, there was nothing.

Trying to retrieve the full imprint from the previous page seemed nearly impossible.

The culprit had likely seen that the page only contained those eight characters and left the rest blank, which is why they let their guard down and only tore out a few pages.

Cen Xiao’s hand slid down from Li Rong’s waist to the base of his spine, but he refrained from any improper movements along the obvious curves.

His voice softened as he spoke near Li Rong’s ear with confidence: “Those words hold information you must know.”

“When he was confident about his findings, he liked to write that phrase,” Li Rong murmured, pupils contracting.

Li Qingli had been an old-fashioned scientist with strong emotions, perhaps a habit he brought back from his years studying abroad.

He loved celebrating successful experiments with his team, finding a small bar serving fries and sausage pizza, drinking the night away, singing loudly, and sharing warm embraces. Then, by 2 a.m., he would let Gu Nong take his hand, muddled but obedient, and be led back to his dorm.

He had a habit of writing the words “Mission accomplished, awaiting good news” in bold strokes on his draft papers before any new drug entered Phase I trials.

Relying on the fact that the foreigners couldn’t understand it, he didn’t need to feel embarrassed about this somewhat passionate and idealistic declaration.

Later, when he returned to China to teach at A University and worked at the Hongsuo Research Institute, many people came to know about this habit.

Cen Xiao said, “This time, it’s very likely he succeeded again.”

Li Rong replied softly, “And the other party knows this habit of his. Realizing it must have made them uneasy, so they decided to destroy this clue.”

Cen Xiao continued, “So…”

He left the thought unfinished, waiting for Li Rong to elaborate.

Li Rong’s voice grew colder as he reasoned, “He’s someone who knew my father. It’s possible he personally tore the manuscript the first time. He’s familiar with these professional fields, diagrams, and research conclusions, so he could accurately identify the sections of the manuscript that needed to be destroyed.”

Cen Xiao added, “That’s just one line of thought.”

It couldn’t be confirmed that the person who tore the manuscript was the same one who ordered the yellow-skinned man to destroy it.

Li Rong nodded. “Following that line of thought, as you said, he acted hastily by hiring a petty thief. If he didn’t come personally, it means he lacked the courage or ability to do so. Then, the first time, he must have entered my house openly. But too many people had that access.”

The day his parents had their accident, he himself had been unconscious from gas poisoning, remaining comatose for an entire week. During that time, many people entered his home: relatives, colleagues, police officers, reporters, court officials, and real estate agents.

Cen Xiao noted, “Limited ability and courage — he must not be a particularly critical figure.”

This person had made many mistakes.

Given the state Li Rong was in upon returning from the hospital, there was no way he could have focused on his parents’ belongings. If the man had taken the entire manuscript at that time, Li Rong might have assumed it was misplaced by the courts while they cleared out valuables.

If he hadn’t foolishly sent someone to steal it later, Li Rong might never have noticed the faintly imprinted eight characters.

His impatience betrayed him, yet he lacked the courage to handle things himself, instead outsourcing the task to a poorly informed thief.

Li Rong reached a similar conclusion. “He probably didn’t report this act to his superiors. Fearing discovery of his mistake, he tried to cover it up himself.”

It seemed this was all destined.

If he hadn’t forgotten his phone, the manuscript might have been successfully taken away and burned completely by the next day, the Chongyang Festival. Even if, one day, he noticed it was missing, all evidence would have been long gone.

Cen Xiao said dismissively, “Failure to cut the problem at its root, and using unreliable people, always leaves a trail.”

From the start, the entire manuscript should have been taken and destroyed. Hesitation only left vulnerabilities.

Li Rong shook his head slowly. “Maybe he thought it was one of the few things my parents left for me.”

If this person indeed knew his parents.

The yellow-skinned man, leaning against the wall, couldn’t make sense of what Cen Xiao and Li Rong were discussing. Timidly, he asked, “C-Can I leave now? I feel a chill down my neck. Am I… going to die?”

Cen Xiao withdrew his hand from Li Rong’s waist, picked up the now-empty kraft paper envelope, and walked to the corner where discarded trash was gathered in a woven bag. He retrieved a stack of similarly thick waste paper, stuffed it into the kraft bag, tied it up, and tossed it at the yellow-skinned man’s feet.

“Take this to burn. Don’t say anything to anyone, or you really might end up dead.”

The yellow-skinned man swallowed hard, his legs shaking with fear and his whole body cold.

He reached out with trembling hands for the envelope, only to realize his right arm wouldn’t lift.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t dare ask Cen Xiao to reset it for him.

“Fine… fine, I won’t say a word.”

Li Rong frowned. “Hey.”

He hadn’t expected Cen Xiao to let the man go so easily — after all, this was their first lead.

Cen Xiao clearly understood his concern and replied calmly, “Unless you want to hear about another gas suicide sometime soon.”

Li Rong closed his eyes, saying nothing more.

For now, both he and Cen Xiao were far from power and had limited resources. It was indeed not the time to alert the enemy.

Cen Xiao grabbed the yellow-skinned man’s right arm and shoulder and, with a sharp push, snapped the dislocated joint back into place with a loud crack.

“Ahhh!” The man screamed in pain, the wounds on his neck reopening and dripping blood.

But he didn’t linger. Grabbing the kraft paper envelope with his good hand, he bolted out the door like his life depended on it.

Li Rong barely noticed.

He knew Cen Xiao had ways to keep tabs on the man and ensure he wouldn’t escape their control.

Once the yellow-skinned man was gone, only the two of them remained in the room.

The light was quiet, a small, chilling bloodstain and knife marks lingering on the floor.

Li Rong’s nerves finally relaxed, and he clutched his chest, coughing violently.

The scuffle with the thief had drained him, and the subsequent events left him mentally exhausted.

His lower back pressed against the sink as his pale face and unfocused eyes betrayed his exhaustion. His disheveled hair partially obscured his face, and the veins on his neck pulsed visibly.

He panted for breath, one hand sliding down to press against his stomach, looking fragile and pitiful.

Cen Xiao grabbed a few tissues, crouched down, and nonchalantly wiped the remaining bloodstains from the floor. Tossing the tissues into the trash, he walked over to Li Rong and turned on the faucet to wash his hands.

Li Rong leaned against the sink in the opposite direction, shoulder to shoulder with him, but made no effort to move away.

Suddenly, Cen Xiao spoke with casual indifference, “The class monitor is so frail, yet still confident about staying in the villa.”

Li Rong’s breath hitched, and he glanced sideways at Cen Xiao.

In truth, he was confident. After all, he had trained by Cen Xiao’s side four years later for two years. At the very least, he could hold out until Cen Xiao arrived from 500 meters away.

However, he couldn’t share these thoughts with the current Cen Xiao.

Cen Xiao, meanwhile, started answering his own question: “You struck with such force yet managed to avoid any critical areas—must’ve been quite confident.”

His tone was casual, but leaning against Cen Xiao’s shoulder, Li Rong could feel the tension in his arms, as if he were holding back some anger.

Li Rong lowered his eyes, lips curling into a faint smile. His voice carried a trace of irony:
“Perhaps it’s more about trusting in the unexpectedly impressive abilities my desk partner has shown.”

Cen Xiao raised a brow slightly.

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed unexpectedly, vibrating against their touching shoulders.

Li Rong lazily shifted aside, giving him room.

But Cen Xiao said, “My hands are wet. You take it.”

Li Rong rolled his eyes, swept back the hair covering his eyes, and reached into Cen Xiao’s pocket.

The pocket was warm—so warm that he almost didn’t want to pick up what was undoubtedly a call from Jian Fu.

He pulled out the phone, glanced at the caller ID, and then held it up, indicating it to Cen Xiao before putting it on speaker.

Jian Fu’s exasperated voice exploded from the speaker: “D*mn it! The meat’s already thawed! Are you carrying a phone or a holy scripture? Even if you went to bang Li Rong, you should’ve been done by now!”

Li Rong: “…”

He knew they shouldn’t have answered.