The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 32

Dragged away from his game, Jian Fu wore a look of utter resignation. Unaware that Li Rong had instigated this, he sighed in defeat, pocketed the money, and headed downstairs.

The school had a milk tea shop on campus, so it took less than ten minutes for Jian Fu to return with the drinks.

Plopping the cups on Cen Xiao’s desk, he exhaled heavily, undoing a button on his coat. “Four cups? Are we still going to have room for lunch later?”

Quick as a flash, Li Rong snatched his crystal grape milk tea from the pile, replying breezily, “It’s not all for you. Take one to Lin Zhen.”

Jian Fu: “…”

For a moment, the absurdity of the statement didn’t register. Somewhere in his subconscious, he’d already accepted that the duo of him and Cen Xiao had somehow turned into a quartet.

Realizing this, Jian Fu felt a bit annoyed. The new dynamic was entirely Li Rong’s doing, but his bad habit of just going along with orders remained unchanged.

With a cup of matcha cheese tea in one hand and mango pomelo sago in the other, Jian Fu looked around hesitantly before heading to Lin Zhen’s desk at the back of the classroom.

“Which one do you want?” he asked.

Lin Zhen looked up abruptly, his wide eyes darting between Jian Fu and the drinks in his hands. Cautiously, he pointed to himself. “For me?”

Jian Fu snorted through his nose, shaking the cups slightly. “Who else?”

Lin Zhen swallowed nervously, his gaze betraying a hint of thirst, but his expression remained hesitant. Recently, his art exam instructor had been strict about his diet, forbidding high-calorie drinks. As much as he wanted the tea, he was also worried about gaining weight.

Seeing his hesitation, Jian Fu grew impatient. He shoved the mango pomelo sago toward Lin Zhen. “Here, take this one. Three parts sugar. Isn’t that better for your diet?”

Lin Zhen froze for a moment before gingerly accepting the cup. After a brief pause, he mumbled, “Ah… okay. Thanks.”

Jian Fu, already sipping his matcha cheese tea, grumbled under his breath, “I never bullied you, but you barely say a word to me.”

Before Lin Zhen could explain, Jian Fu turned on his heel and strode off.

Lin Zhen’s deskmate, Sun Nuan, teased, “Wow, you and Jian Fu are pretty close now. He even brings you milk tea?”

Lin Zhen blinked and watched Jian Fu’s retreating back. He replied with certainty, “It must’ve been the class monitor’s idea.”

Sure enough, when he turned his head, he saw Li Rong sipping a cup of tea with a satisfied smile, chatting animatedly with Cen Xiao.

Sun Nuan added, “Oh… so you’re on good terms with the monitor too? You barely talked before.”

Lin Zhen smiled as he pierced the lid of his mango pomelo sago and took a small sip. “Yeah, feels like a lot has changed all of a sudden.”

Li Rong glanced backward subtly, noting that Lin Zhen was holding the tea in one hand and diligently doing homework with the other. Li Rong’s lips curled upward slightly.

“Not bad,” he murmured. “Looks like Lin Zhen is starting to develop some team spirit. I was worried he’d be too shy to accept.”

Lin Zhen had always been invisible in the class. His grades were neither good nor bad, so the teachers didn’t pay him much attention. On top of that, he was quiet, compliant, and overly polite, which made the more influential classmates not take him seriously.

Li Rong was always worried that Lin Zhen was too tolerant. Even with Cen Xiao and Jian Fu, he was cautious and overly accommodating, always polite and proper.

This kind of personality often made people around him overlook him, and it was easier for him to suffer grievances.

Cen Xiao furrowed his brows as he sipped the overly sweet oolong tea in his hand, then immediately pushed it far away as though it were something unbearable.

He glanced at Li Rong, his tone carrying a faint hint of jealousy. “Even delivering milk tea comes with so much thought from you. Aren’t you afraid of tiring yourself out?”

Li Rong’s eyes carried a hint of amusement as he slowly shook his head, disagreeing with Cen Xiao’s view. “For someone with sufficient brain capacity, thinking more is just a basic function—it’s like starting up and warming the system.”

Cen Xiao raised an eyebrow and said lightly, “Oh? So, are you saying you’ve thought through everyone around you?”

Li Rong bit the straw, his gaze lifting toward Cen Xiao with a sly look. “Yeah, I spend a lot of time thinking about you. Scared?”

Cen Xiao’s expression didn’t waver as he met Li Rong’s gaze head-on, his demeanor calm. “What’s there to be scared of?”

Li Rong grinned, pulling the straw out of his drink and swapping their cups, pushing his crystal grape tea toward Cen Xiao. “Mine’s better. Try it.”

Cen Xiao looked at the swapped straw, picked up Li Rong’s purple fruit tea, swirled it casually, and remarked with mild dissatisfaction, “This is the result of your thinking?”

Li Rong’s gaze subtly dropped as his tongue swept across the line of his lips. He chuckled softly. “I figured you’d like methods… strictly forbidden by Yang Fenfang.”

This time, Cen Xiao said nothing. He simply picked up the crystal grape tea and took a sip.

Li Rong propped his chin on his hand and clicked his tongue twice. “People might think the ‘Crown prince of Blue Pivot District 3’ is stingy, swapping milk tea to save money.”

Just as he finished teasing Cen Xiao, Yang Fenfang appeared at the classroom door, her face stern and her sharp gaze scanning the room. Once the class quieted down, she spoke slowly:

“Li Rong, come out for a moment. Your uncle’s here to see you.”

Li Rong’s smile instantly faded.

Gu Zhaonian had not appeared before him in a long time. In his previous life, after isolating himself at home for a month, Li Rong had been evicted from the villa by a court order.

At his wit’s end, he had sought out Gu Zhaonian, but his uncle dodged and deflected, refusing to help, insisting he had no money or resources to spare.

At the time, Li Rong was extremely sensitive, valuing his dignity above all else, and the encounter left him utterly drained and disheartened.

Li Rong stood up and followed Yang Fenfang out.

Unaware of the estrangement between Li Rong and Gu Zhaonian, Yang Fenfang warmly discussed Li Rong’s academic progress with his uncle.

“Li Rong’s Uncle, you can rest assured about Li Rong. He’s adjusting well, very resilient. He hasn’t been too affected by everything, and he even ranked first in the city on the last mock exam. I’m sure your family must be very proud.”

What she didn’t know was that Gu Zhaonian had a son named Gu Tian, the same age and grade as Li Rong—a perpetual underachiever, always at the bottom of the rankings. Li Rong’s stellar performance constantly served as a stark and humiliating contrast for Gu Zhaonian among family and friends.

Gu Zhaonian’s face alternated between shades of green and white. He couldn’t help but twitch his lips, forcing out a stiff smile. “Oh, really? Our family’s been so busy lately we haven’t had time to pay attention to these things.”

Yang Fenfang, genuinely believing that he was simply too occupied, eagerly began explaining how the school leadership and teaching staff had been caring for Li Rong.

“Understandable! It’s tough for families. Just recently, I discussed the Talented Students Program with Li Rong. Based on tradition at our school, the spot is essentially his. The teachers and administration will fully support him.”

Gu Zhaonian, unfamiliar with anything related to academic programs due to Gu Tian’s poor performance, frowned in confusion. “What’s the Talented Students Program?”

Yang Fenfang froze for a moment, quickly explaining, “Oh, it’s a program that guarantees direct admission to University A, with the freedom to choose any major. With Li Rong’s grades, it’s definitely not a problem. If all goes well, he won’t need to take the college entrance exam and can rest for several extra months.”

Gu Zhaonian: “…”

Those words only made him feel worse.

So high school had all these extra programs? And here Li Rong was, already preparing for direct admission to University A, while he was still struggling to figure out how to spend a fortune just to get Gu Tian into the same place.

Sometimes, Gu Zhaonian felt frustrated—not because he begrudged successful students, but because, as Gu Nong’s brother and Li Rong’s uncle, he had endured too much in his life.

Yang Fenfang continued to chatter, “Li Rong’s been getting along well with his classmates recently. Take Cen Xiao, for example. When I paired them as desk mates, it was to prevent cliques and divisions in the class. And it’s worked wonders…”

The veins on Gu Zhaonian’s forehead were close to bursting.

Of course it worked wonders!

Cen Xiao had beaten up Gu Tian to stand up for Li Rong. And because Gu Zhaonian didn’t dare provoke anyone from Blue Pivot Districts Three or One, he had to swallow his anger, nearly sending his blood pressure through the roof.

Forcing a smile, Gu Zhaonian said, “Teacher, let me discuss some family matters with Li Rong.”

Only then did Yang Fenfang call Li Rong over. “Come, come, you two talk. I’ll check on the class.”

Li Rong had been unwilling to see Gu Zhaonian, but Yang Fenfang’s chatter had amused him, lightening his mood as he watched the scene unfold.

Li Rong approached, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, and lazily asked, “What do you want?”

Gu Zhaonian took a deep breath. “I went to your house and heard you moved out.”

Li Rong raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. Must’ve been something major for you to bother with a visit.”

Gu Zhaonian snorted coldly. “Your grandmother has set a date for your parents’ funeral. It’s not exactly a glorious event, so it’ll be kept low-key. We’ll notify a few of their colleagues and friends. You’ll need to be there to greet the guests and hand out return gifts.”

His grandmother was Li Rong’s maternal grandmother.

Li Rong had rarely seen her and didn’t hold a favorable impression of her.

This grandmother was a strong-willed woman who lost her husband in middle age and never remarried. She raised her two children alone, having lived under bridges, eaten tree bark, done black-market labor, and made many missteps along the way.

Later, during the economic recovery, she took advantage of her foreign language skills to enter the import-export trade, slowly improving her circumstances.

Despite being a trailblazer of her time, her deep-seated traditional values remained: sons were inherently superior to daughters, and grandsons more promising than granddaughters.

Unfortunately, the reality in their family turned out completely opposite.

Because of this, she often mocked the underachieving Gu Tian and his sycophantic, ingratiating father, Gu Zhaonian. At the same time, she criticized Gu Nong for not using her connections to get Gu Zhaonian a stable job at the Hongsuo Research Institute. She also felt Li Rong should help Gu Tian with his studies—preferably turning him into the top student in their grade.

Her constant meddling strained the relationship between Gu Zhaonian and Gu Nong and created even more tension between Gu Tian and Li Rong.

Now, with this funeral, she felt both grief and shame. She insisted it be a private, simple affair—no fuss, no gossip from the neighbors.

In his previous life, Li Rong had been in such poor health that he was in and out of the hospital. By the time he was well enough, the funeral had already been held.

His grandmother had paid for the burial plot, even specifically instructing the staff to choose a secluded, inconspicuous spot where not many people would notice it.

The staff tried to explain that those visiting graves only paid attention to their own families, not others.

But she wouldn’t listen, insisting on a remote corner, as if she wanted the names on the gravestone hidden under a shroud.

Li Rong felt a moment of daze.

He realized that some things he thought he had long accepted were merely buried deep, held down by a massive stone, and never allowed to surface and stir his emotions.

But revisiting those old grievances felt like shifting jagged rocks—once disturbed, they tore at his heart, leaving it raw and bloody.

If he couldn’t clear his parents’ names, this stigma would forever cling to them, in life and death.

Like the grave tucked away in a corner, it served as a constant reminder: the departed awaited justice, and the living must never give up.

Even if the world no longer cared about the truth, his parents did. And for him, that mattered most.

Gu Zhaonian frowned. “Li Rong, are you even listening? This Sunday, you need to go to the hall and prepare. Also, your grandmother has always favored your family. Isn’t it heartless of you not to visit her all this time?”

Li Rong barely reacted, only blinking slowly.

Seeing no students nearby, Gu Zhaonian jabbed a finger at him. “If I hear you’ve been messing around behind the scenes or bullying Gu Tian again, I won’t let you off!”

Li Rong finally stirred, lifting his gaze with a cold glint. “And what exactly would you do to me?”

Gu Zhaonian froze, his facial muscles twitching.

He had no real way to deal with Li Rong. His words were an empty threat meant to intimidate. But being questioned directly left him feeling exposed and irritable.

Li Rong scoffed lightly. “I don’t have time to bother with you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make time. I’ll attend the funeral, but I’ll decide how it’s handled.”

Gritting his teeth, Gu Zhaonian growled, “Li Rong, don’t you think you’re taking yourself too seriously? Do you still think your parents are Hongsuo’s honorary professors, with someone to back you up?”

Li Rong straightened, pulling his hands out of his pockets.

Though his pale and frail appearance suggested weakness, his eyes shone sharp and bright, like blades.

“I am my own support.”

Gu Zhaonian stared at his nephew, his chest filled with an unspoken fury.

This frustration Gu Zhaonian felt didn’t stem from Li Rong’s attitude toward him but from Li Rong’s unwavering confidence, self-assurance, and sharpness.

He envied Gu Nong for raising such a child—a child who, even standing on the edge of despair, could remain unyielding and untamed by convention.

It made Gu Zhaonian feel that his own soul was even more mediocre, petty, dirty, and vulgar.

He could never compare to Gu Nong, and his child could never compare to Li Rong.

Suddenly, he understood why, after the incident with Li Qingli and Gu Nong, even with so many absurd rumors circulating, the backlash online was so overwhelming and unanimous.

If he weren’t Gu Nong’s biological brother, he believed he might have joined the mob himself.

Because the world was full of souls as ordinary as his.

Clutching his briefcase tightly, Gu Zhaonian cast a long, deep look at Li Rong before storming off toward the stairwell, disappearing in an instant.

Li Rong watched him leave with a calm expression, then quietly returned to his classroom and sat back in his seat.

Yang Fenfang was explaining questions at the podium, and the classroom had slipped back into its usual chatter.

No one noticed Li Rong had left and returned. The students, seizing the rare break, were chatting, playing, snacking, or working on homework.

Cen Xiao squinted slightly and asked in a low voice, “You’re not happy. What happened?”

Li Rong’s eyelids quivered. His long, delicate lashes cast faint shadows over his face, as if stirred by the tips of his hair, veiling his eyes in a soft, dim haze.

His Adam’s apple moved faintly, tightening the pale skin of his neck.

Li Rong tilted his head slightly, resting his ear against Cen Xiao’s shoulder.

His voice was low and faint, carrying an almost imperceptible fragility.

“Let me lean on you. Just for a moment.”

All he needed was a small, undisturbed corner of peace amid the noise and chaos—a moment to rest.

Then, he would be able to recover.

Cen Xiao froze for a moment, then lowered his gaze. Li Rong had already closed his eyes, his eyelids thin, his brows slender, and his soft hair brushing gently against his temples and ears, making him look inexplicably obedient.

But Cen Xiao knew that Li Rong’s mind was heavy, tangled with countless chaotic, restless thoughts that were sapping his will and energy.

For a long time, Li Rong had been weary.

Cen Xiao relaxed his shoulder and remained perfectly still, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

In a voice only he could hear, Cen Xiao murmured softly, “You can lean for as long as you need.”