The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 33

The day before the funeral, Li Rong asked Yang Fenfang for leave and went to visit his grandmother.

She lived in a high-end residential area in the development district, surrounded by lush greenery and complete infrastructure.

Li Rong hadn’t been here in a long time.

In his previous life, after his family’s downfall, the relatives avoided him like the plague. He saw no need to bother with them, gradually cutting ties with everyone.

Initially, his grandmother had called him a few times, but only to admonish him to be humble, discreet, and avoid making enemies—reminding him that his circumstances were different from others.

It was as if his sole purpose for surviving was to bear the shame of his parents and atone for their sins while walking on eggshells.

Later, he devoted most of his energy outside work to his entanglement with Cen Xiao, and he had little patience left for his grandmother.

Li Rong pressed the doorbell.

The one who opened the door was Gu Tian, who rolled his eyes at the sight of him.

Li Rong glanced inside, spotting a crowd of familiar and unfamiliar relatives crammed into the living room.

It was clear Gu Tian had been sent to open the door against his will.

Lowering his head to look at his phone, Gu Tian muttered, just loud enough, “You’re the last to arrive. It’s like this isn’t even your family’s issue.”

Although the grandmother was old, her hearing was still sharp. She scolded, “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Gu Zhaonian couldn’t take it anymore and, with a deep breath, said impatiently, “Alright, Mom, everyone’s here now. Just go over the process quickly. I need to drive my boss later and don’t have time to linger.”

His mother, irritated by his mention of work, snapped, “Driving for someone your whole life—no ambition at all!”

Gu Zhaonian’s temple throbbed, but he swallowed his frustration.

Being A university president’s driver was a job many would kill for, but she still looked down on it.

Having subdued her son, she quickly turned her ire on Li Rong, whose expression was calm and distant.

“You haven’t visited me in all this time. What could you possibly be so busy with?”

Other relatives chimed in:

“Exactly! How could you not care about your own parents’ affairs and leave it all to the elderly?”

 “He’s eighteen now, isn’t he? An adult should be taking responsibility.”

 “Kids these days only care about studying. No sense of filial piety. Poor grandmother has been worn out, and he doesn’t even come to help.”

 “That’s how kids are nowadays—no responsibility, spoiled by their parents.”

 “Alright, the child has never been through something this big. Just guide him properly. Complaining now doesn’t help.”

…..

The voices were as noisy and grating as frogs croaking in the summer grass—chaotic, relentless, and self-satisfied.

Li Rong didn’t take a single word to heart.

He wouldn’t have any interaction with these people in the coming years, yet they acted as though they cared more about his parents than he did.

Li Rong smiled faintly and retorted, “It’s been so long since the incident. Why didn’t any of you think to visit my home?”

His words silenced the entire living room instantly.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t thought about it—they were afraid.

When the incident first occurred, news leaked from the hospital, and swarms of media reporters gathered at his house to film and report. Influencers came to take photos, stir up drama, and criticize.

The internet was ablaze with outrage, and public sentiment boiled over. Even the police struggled to hold back the relentless reporters.

His relatives had feared being caught on camera, dragged into the mess, or associated with the scandal. So, they had stayed away until the uproar died down, too afraid to visit.

Li Rong did not blame them. No one was obligated to endure the senseless mental abuse from the internet, even if they shared a sliver of blood relation with him.

However, he did not believe these people had the right to stand on a moral high ground and accuse him of being cold and unfeeling.

The grandmother frowned, her deep wrinkles appearing even more pronounced.

“What are you saying? Do you expect all of us to go there and plead for justice? As if we haven’t lost enough face already?”

Li Rong’s smile vanished in an instant. He replied coldly, “My parents lived their entire lives with a clear conscience. What is there to be ashamed of?”

The grandmother retorted stiffly, “Then they must have offended someone! Your mother had such a temper. I told her many times to maintain good relationships with her superiors and subordinates, to learn to be flexible and adapt, to integrate into society. She just wouldn’t listen! Failing to accept the murkiness of the waters and lacking the ability to clear them is a sin in itself!”

Startled, Gu Zhaonian quickly interjected, “Mom, keep those words private. What are you saying to a kid? Do you want him to stir up trouble?”

The grandmother, still fuming, responded, “I’m telling him this so he can see clearly and avoid following in his parents’ footsteps!”

Li Rong remained silent for a long time, gazing at his grandmother’s murky, moist eyes before speaking softly, “I used to think that if kindness lacked the strength to protect itself, it wasn’t a virtue. Then one day, I read a quote on the wall at A High School: ‘Has it always been this way, and therefore is it right?’ I realized that kindness is innocent. The true culprits are the organizations and systems—like the commerce associations and the Hongsuo Research Institute—that fail to safeguard it.”

That’s why he wanted his parents to leave this world with their innocence intact. But he also wanted those unworthy of their positions to fall from their pedestals.

Gu Zhaonian gasped audibly and scolded angrily, “Do you even know what nonsense you’re spouting? If you’ve lost your mind, don’t drag us into it!”

The grandmother sneered, “You’re just as foolish as your mother.”

Li Rong was not angered. He simply understood that there was nothing left to say between him and them.

The funeral was held at a small chapel near the cemetery.

Li Qingli and Gu Nong had no particular religious beliefs, but the grandmother, as she aged and became prone to illness, had developed a habit of praying and seeking blessings from deities.

The chapel was in a remote location, and the arrangements for the mourning hall were exceedingly simple, just as the grandmother had insisted—low-key and designed to avoid trouble.

The funeral details were announced via Li Qingli and Gu Nong’s social media circles. Anticipating a modest turnout, even basic refreshments were omitted.

That day, a light drizzle fell, rare for such cold weather, resembling an early spring rain.

Before the guests arrived, the grandmother clasped her hands devoutly and muttered prayers, pleading with the gods to forgive Li Qingli and Gu Nong’s sins and to grant them peace and happiness in paradise.

Li Rong, dressed in a black suit, found the outfit insufficient to shield him from the pervasive chill. His limbs quickly grew numb.

He watched the grandmother’s pious actions with icy detachment, pulling over a chair and sitting silently to the side.

When she finished praying, she looked at him and whispered, “Come, pray for your parents. Ask for the gods’ blessings for them.”

Li Rong found the notion laughable. The dead needed no blessings.

He smiled faintly and shook his head, refusing bluntly, “I don’t believe in this.”

The grandmother, for reasons unknown, felt increasingly exasperated with the grandson who had once been a source of pride but now seemed utterly incomprehensible.

She hissed, “Don’t speak loudly in a sacred place! At this point, if you don’t believe in this, what else can you believe in?”

Li Rong raised his eyes to meet the gaze of the towering deity statue above, his voice steady and firm. “I believe in myself.”

The grandmother sputtered, “You…”

She had heard similar words from her daughter and son-in-law before, but Li Rong was different.

When her daughter and son-in-law said such things, their eyes shone with optimism and hope. Their words, though tinged with idealism, carried a warmth that was almost infectious.

Li Rong was not the same. His gaze unsettled her, made her heart race, and sent chills down her spine, as if the very marrow of her bones was freezing.

For a moment, she was struck by the eerie feeling that a different soul inhabited her grandson’s body.

Gu Zhaonian entered briskly. “Mom, get ready. Someone’s arrived.”

The grandmother quickly set aside her thoughts, rallying the relatives and friends to form a proper line. She grabbed Li Rong and pulled him to the front.

Li Rong had no intention of bowing.

He knew that no matter how close the visitors had been to his parents, no matter their influence within the Hongsuo Research Institute, they had all remained silent during this farcical defamation.

What he hadn’t expected was for the first guest to arrive to be Jiang Weide, the mentor he had followed for nearly two years.

Li Rong hesitated. Jiang Weide had never mentioned attending his parents’ funeral.

At this point, Jiang Weide was already a significant figure in the Hongsuo Research Institute, though younger, with fewer gray hairs at his temples and only faint wrinkles on his face. His large forehead, shiny from chronic poor health and lack of exercise, bore a subtle sheen of oil.

A faint scar on his neck hinted at a past thyroid nodule removal surgery.

Li Rong’s lips moved, nearly calling out “teacher,” but the words caught in his throat.

Jiang Weide, unaware of Li Rong’s identity, merely glanced forward solemnly and let out a heavy sigh.

He closed his eyes, bent deeply in a bow, and stayed in that position for a long time before rising, his face red from the effort.

Gu Zhaonian, recognizing Jiang Weide, immediately stepped forward obsequiously, his professional habits kicking in.

“Professor Jiang, you’re here too! The weather’s so cold, and I heard you’ve been unwell recently. Just your presence is more than enough. Please, you must take care of yourself!”

Jiang Weide looked puzzled. “And you are?”

Gu Zhaonian beamed. “I’m Gu Nong’s older brother, Gu Zhaonian. I work at A University. I often see you at the president’s office. Please, come sit and rest.”

Jiang Weide quickly waved his hand. “No need, no need. I won’t sit. Don’t worry about me. I just came to see an old friend.”

Li Rong raised an eyebrow slightly. “An old friend.”

He had never known that his parents had any personal relationship with his mentor. Whenever they were mentioned, it was always polite but distant.

That wasn’t surprising. His parents were younger than Jiang Weide and had started a company early on, which made them quite different from someone like Jiang, who was fully devoted to research. They were all busy and likely didn’t have much in common.

The elderly woman cleared her throat, signaling Li Rong to bow in response.

Li Rong ignored her and stepped forward, stopping in front of Jiang Weide.

“Professor Jiang,” he said softly.

Jiang Weide had personally approved his application for the GT201 project. Unfortunately, Li Rong never had the chance to see the project’s results.

Jiang Weide glanced at him. “This must be Professor Li and Professor Gu’s son.” His gaze softened, and he patted Li Rong on the shoulder with a solemn expression. “Work hard and make your parents proud.”

Jiang Weide had taught him a great deal and helped him avoid many pitfalls. Li Rong could feel that Jiang Weide truly gave his all to mentor him.

Li Rong smiled lightly. “I will. Thank you.”

Jiang Weide seemed momentarily surprised that Li Rong could still smile so calmly in such a setting, as if they were merely crossing paths in the research institute’s hallway and exchanging familiar greetings.

The elderly woman immediately frowned, feeling that Li Rong was being incredibly disrespectful. Jiang Weide was older than his parents, yet Li Rong displayed none of the humility expected of someone of the younger generation.

She wanted to scold him, but Li Rong completely disregarded her opinions.

His independent attitude, in her eyes, not only brought shame to his parents but also disgraced the entire Gu family.

Jiang Weide didn’t seem bothered, but Li Rong’s lack of visible sorrow left him unsure whether to offer any words of comfort. As Jiang Weide hesitated, someone else entered the room.

The newcomer was someone Li Rong didn’t recognize.

The man appeared to be around Jiang Weide’s age but was very thin, with prominent cheekbones and hollowed cheeks. His loose skin clung to his bones, and a striking red birthmark stood out above his brow.

Despite his frail appearance, the man radiated vitality, his eyes sharper than Jiang’s. Yet, oddly enough, he carried a dark brown cane despite his apparent agility.

He wore a black Zhongsan suit with all the buttons neatly fastened up to the top. In the breast pocket was a well-used fountain pen.

His attire and appearance were unremarkable, and he was short in stature. Among any group, he would fade into the background. Even Gu Zhaonian, who habitually ingratiated himself with others, showed little enthusiasm toward him.

However, Jiang Weide stepped back, distancing himself from Li Rong to make room for the newcomer.

Gu Zhaonian hesitated. “You are…?”

The man smiled kindly, his eyes narrowing warmly. 

“I’m Zhang Zhaohe from the Biochemistry Department at A University. I used to work in the same teaching building as Professor Li. He even taught a class I supervised. When I heard about this today, I hurried over. Thankfully, I didn’t miss it.”

“Oh,” Gu Zhaonian’s interest faded immediately.

Having served as A University’s president’s driver for years, Gu Zhaonian knew the university’s personnel like the back of his hand.

The Biochemistry Institute at A University recruits six to eight classes every year. Each class is assigned a lecturer as a class advisor. These lecturers only teach introductory foundational courses, while advanced professional courses are taught by professors like Li Qingli, who have overseas academic backgrounds.

For someone as old as Zhang Zhaohe to still be just a class lecturer, it’s clear he has no academic achievements. He’s essentially coasting on his seniority, making a living at A University.

Moreover, he mentioned that he only heard about the funeral time from someone else, which shows he wasn’t even close to Li Qingli or Gu Nong.

Gu Zhaonian certainly wouldn’t treat him with the same enthusiasm he showed to Jiang Weide.

Li Rong had heard about Zhang Zhaohe before.

At A University, there’s a placement test after admission. Classes are assigned based on the results of written exams and interviews. The top-ranking Class 1 gets more scholarships and opportunities for international exchange, and its teachers are all elites.

Zhang Zhaohe, on the other hand, is always in charge of the class everyone tries to transfer out of, even using connections and bribes.

It’s said that Zhang Zhaohe has a mild temperament and is kind and approachable. He grades generously but has no control over his class and lacks academic depth. In his lectures, attendance is perpetually below 40%. Those who do show up don’t bother listening; they eat snacks, play on their phones, chat, or cause a ruckus. Zhang Zhaohe, seemingly oblivious, continues lecturing as if he and his students inhabit separate worlds.

Even so, he’s reluctant to fail students who skip his class.

Privately, people say that Zhang Zhaohe is a good person, but being in his class turns students into slackers.

As someone diligent and outstanding, Li Rong naturally had no interaction with Zhang Zhaohe in his past life.

Zhang Zhaohe put down his cane, bowed deeply with reverence, closed his eyes, and muttered for a long time.

When he opened his eyes again, they glistened with tears. His lips quivered, as if he wanted to say something more to the memorial hall, but Gu Zhaonian had already enthusiastically gone to greet someone else.

“Professor Li, you’ve come as well,” Gu Zhaonian said warmly.

Zhang Zhaohe, just like in his classroom, was once again ignored—not only by Gu Zhaonian but also by the Gu family’s relatives and friends.

But perhaps he had long developed a strong mental fortitude. He stubbornly finished murmuring what he wanted to say before quietly retreating to an unremarkable corner.

Meanwhile, Li Baishou stood at the door, wiping rain off his forehead and scraping mud from his shoes on the doormat.

He waved modestly at Gu Zhaonian, signaling him not to make a fuss, but took his time cleaning his shoes, as if trying to draw the attention of everyone in the memorial hall.

Li Rong withdrew his gaze from Zhang Zhaohe’s face, narrowing his eyes slightly as he silently watched Li Baishou.

Once Li Baishou had cleaned his leather shoes to a spotless shine, he straightened his posture, adjusted his clothes, and strode in with puffed-out confidence.

His peripheral vision landed on Jiang Weide, who was standing to the side. But instead of acknowledging him, he silently turned away, leaving Jiang Weide, who had been about to nod in greeting, awkwardly hanging mid-motion.

As for Zhang Zhaohe, he didn’t even warrant a glance from Li Baishou.

Li Rong had always known that Li Baishou envied Li Qingli and Jiang Weide. He envied anyone with greater academic achievements or smoother paths in scientific research than his own.

If he had managed to obtain Li Qingli’s hypothesis, his status at the Hongsuo Research Institute would have risen to just below Jiang Weide’s.

But in this lifetime, he would never get it.

Li Baishou, oblivious to the situation, assumed that certain organizations were monitoring the investigation team too closely, preventing him from accessing the hard drive for now. 

He thought that after some time, once Blue Pivot’s people pulled back, and the investigation eased up, as Li Qingli’s former colleague, it would be easy enough for him to review the hard drive.

Li Qingli had been entirely unguarded, and shortly before the incident, had even mentioned to him that his new hypothesis was logically sound. He only needed to refine the details and review it one last time before publishing it in a paper.

Li Baishou envied Li Qingli, but he also had immense faith in his abilities.

If it was something Li Qingli had taken so seriously, it had to be groundbreaking research.

Li Rong’s lips curved into a slight smirk.

The rumors spread by Fengguang Media about his parents still lingered vividly in his memory. For Li Baishou to appear so brazenly at the funeral, it was truly shameless as ever.

Noticing Li Rong smiling at him—without a trace of friendliness—Li Baishou’s brow furrowed. He felt a strong sense of discomfort and offense. However, with so many people present and this being Li Qingli and Gu Nong’s funeral, he refrained from reacting.

Li Baishou quickly bowed and sighed deeply, his voice trembling with emotion. “Old Li, I’m here to see you!”

Li Rong raised an eyebrow and gestured to the warning sign on the wall. “Please lower your voice. This is a sacred place. No loud talking.” Then, he turned innocently to his grandmother. “Isn’t that right, Grandma?”

Li Baishou: “…”

The moment he had worked himself into was abruptly interrupted, leaving him feeling stifled, as though a wad of cotton were stuck in his chest.

The elderly woman’s blood pressure spiked in fury. She pressed a hand to her forehead, breathing heavily.

An aunt quickly supported her, casting a reproachful glare at Li Rong.

Suppressing his anger, Li Baishou adjusted his expression and lowered his voice. “Old Li, rest in peace. If there’s anything your family needs, I’ll shoulder the responsibility without hesitation. As for the research you left unfinished, I’ll see it through in your place…”

His tone was heartfelt and sincere, and he rambled on for so long that even Gu Zhaonian began to feel a bit embarrassed.

He assumed that Li Baishou must have been a close friend of Li Qingli and Gu Nong.

But to Li Rong, these words carried a deeper, more ambiguous meaning.

Li Rong stepped forward, his eyes slightly lowered as he calmly studied the side of Li Baishou’s face. After a few seconds, he said lightly, “Beyond the research, could you also take over the special needs school my parents were funding in Yuzhou?”

Li Baishou glanced at Li Rong, their eyes meeting briefly before he disdainfully looked away. His tone was stiff. “Naturally, I am dedicated to public service. To focus on oneself in times of hardship and benefit others in times of prosperity is the responsibility of people like us.”

Li Baishou’s impression of Li Rong was poor. The last time they met, despite Li Rong’s polite smile, there wasn’t a hint of respect. He even seemed indifferent to his parents’ deaths, carrying himself like a spoiled and wayward rich kid.

He couldn’t fathom how Li Qingli had ever praised him.

Li Rong’s brows knit slightly, his gaze meaningful as it lingered on Li Baishou.

But Li Baishou didn’t take this high schooler seriously.

Turning away, he addressed Gu Zhaonian, who had been the warmest toward him. “I have projects waiting at the lab, and my students need me. I’ll have to hurry back. Ah, the march of science never stops.”

His words carried an intentional sting, a petty retaliation for Li Rong’s disrespect.

Li Qingli and Gu Nong were gone, yet he was still moving steadily forward in his research career.

Winning for now didn’t matter; Li Qingli’s academic achievements had already come to an end.

Li Rong simply smiled without saying a word.

At that moment, Li Baishou was full of ambition. He had no idea that for the next six years, he would be trapped in Li Qingli’s hypothesis, exhausting himself trying to realize it, unable to achieve anything greater.

He would never surpass Li Qingli.

After Li Baishou left with a haughty stride, others came to pay their respects intermittently. The funeral dragged on until the afternoon.

By then, Li Rong’s entire body was chilled to the bone, his lips turning purple from the cold.

Only after the mist in the mountains cleared, the clouds dispersed, and pale sunlight fell on the muddy ground did he finally see off the last guest.

His grandmother was deeply displeased with him and was about to close the doors to scold him when Li Rong walked straight out, paying her no attention.

She didn’t dare raise her voice in the church, so she called after him in a hushed tone, “You haven’t gone to pay respects at your parents’ grave!”

Li Rong acted as if he hadn’t heard her.

He didn’t want to go to that remote corner, to a grave surrounded by overgrown weeds.

His parents had lived with dignity and integrity, and they had died clean and untainted. There was nothing shameful about them.

When the culprits faced justice and the full truth came to light, he would personally bring them back.

Just as he stepped outside the church, Li Rong came to a sudden halt.

Standing by the only road outside the church was Cen Xiao, dressed in a neat, somber suit. He had removed the clavicle chain he always wore, and in the crook of his arm was a thick, warm down jacket.

Li Rong opened his mouth but swallowed his words.

He didn’t know when Cen Xiao had arrived or how long he had been standing there, but he didn’t seem inclined to come in. Instead, Cen Xiao gave him a reassuring look from a distance.

Li Rong’s eyelids trembled slightly, and he shook his head gently.

This man—hadn’t he said he wouldn’t come?

Not that Li Rong had really wanted him to.

Given the tangled mess of their relationship, he didn’t want his parents finding out so soon, even in the afterlife.

Li Rong walked up to Cen Xiao’s car, his teeth already chattering softly before he could say a word.

Cen Xiao frowned, instinctively shaking out the down jacket in his arm and wrapping it around Li Rong. “How did you end up this cold?”

The jacket was slightly oversized on Li Rong, but it was just right—covering him to the knees and blocking out most of the chill in an instant.

Li Rong’s limbs had long since gone numb. He hunched his neck, coughing heavily twice, his voice thick with congestion. “When did you get here?”

“I don’t remember.” Cen Xiao replied casually as he opened the car door and bundled Li Rong inside.

The car’s heater was on, and the warm air hit Li Rong’s frozen face, instantly forming a layer of fine droplets.

Li Rong pressed his hands against the air vent, rubbing them together repeatedly to warm his stiff joints. 

He lowered his gaze, knowing full well that, given Cen Xiao’s meticulous nature, it was impossible for him not to remember the exact time he arrived. If Cen Xiao said he didn’t recall, it probably meant he’d been there since early in the day.

Sniffling, Li Rong asked, “Did you hear something?”

Cen Xiao wouldn’t have come unless it was something important. After all, the funeral was filled with people from the Hongsuo Research Institute, and Cen Xiao would typically avoid such situations to prevent gossip.

Cen Xiao shut the car door and glanced at Li Rong, his expression puzzled. “Hear what?”

Li Rong froze slightly, his eyes meeting Cen Xiao’s, a trace of confusion in them.

If Cen Xiao hadn’t heard anything, then why did he come?

But that question remained in his heart—he didn’t voice it aloud.

Cen Xiao furrowed his brows. “Something happened?”

Li Rong hesitated briefly before slowly shaking his head. He tightened the down jacket around himself, tilted his head slightly, and softly sniffed at it. His tone turned inexplicably gentle. “Thanks to your heater and this jacket, or I might’ve had to head straight to the hospital after hailing a cab.”

The jacket didn’t carry the smoke scent from his past life that he disliked. Instead, it had a faint hint of gardenia.

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