The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 34

Li Rong slowly warmed up in the car.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cen Xiao sweating from the heat, beads of perspiration sliding down his temples, tracing his neck, and disappearing into his collar.

The sky outside was clearing, a lemon-yellow horizon stretching far and wide. Wispy clouds streaked across like flowing ribbons, and sunlight streamed through the windshield, glinting off the sweat on Cen Xiao’s neck.

Li Rong’s mood, much like the clearing weather, inexplicably improved.

He suddenly realized how much he looked forward to Cen Xiao’s presence.

Li Rong shook out a sleeve, pulling a hand free to open the armrest compartment and grab a tissue.

He casually folded the tissue, then raised his hand to wipe the sweat off Cen Xiao’s neck.

The warm air he found so comforting was clearly stifling for Cen Xiao.

As the tissue touched his skin, Li Rong felt Cen Xiao’s muscles tense reflexively.

Suppressing a smile, Li Rong lowered his gaze and carefully wiped away every trace of sweat on Cen Xiao’s neck. His actions inevitably brought him into contact with Cen Xiao’s Adam’s apple, collarbones, and the soft hollow between them.

It was the first time Li Rong had touched Cen Xiao so intimately, despite knowing well that Cen Xiao’s physique was both refined and pleasing to the eye.

He wasn’t entirely without sentiment. In his past life, he remembered both the times Cen Xiao wronged him and the times Cen Xiao treated him well.

He’d first noticed Cen Xiao’s feelings for him when Jian Fu brought back a box of foreign fruits called “dugu.”

Jian Fu had meant for Cen Xiao to try them, but Cen Xiao had immediately asked the housekeeper to take them home.

Li Rong, mistaking the fruits for a local specialty, absentmindedly peeled one. Its dull-yellow skin revealed flesh resembling lychee, translucent and sweet with a slight tang.

He had unknowingly polished off seven or eight in one go.

The housekeeper, delighted to see him enjoying them, cheerfully reported to Cen Xiao and asked if more could be arranged.

Unable to find any locally, Cen Xiao had to rely on connections to have them imported—a process fraught with red tape and favors owed.

As for the original box of dugu, Cen Xiao didn’t eat a single one.

Li Rong absentmindedly ate the “local specialty,” only to find out afterward from an aunt that it was actually ripe fruit that Jian Fu had brought directly from abroad.

Even though they had connections to help, the paperwork for importing it was incredibly complicated and required calling in favors.

Cen Xiao had never mentioned it to him.

The car stopped at a red light, and Cen Xiao brought the vehicle to a halt.

Li Rong snapped out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting away from Cen Xiao’s neck. “I’m not cold anymore. You can turn off the AC.”

He was just about to pull his hand back when Cen Xiao let go of the steering wheel and grabbed his wrist.

Cen Xiao turned to him, his deep gaze fixed on Li Rong. “I’m feeling warmer, though.”

Li Rong felt the grip on his wrist and looked up to meet Cen Xiao’s eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “How warm?”

Cen Xiao’s down jacket was a bit long for him, so when he grabbed Li Rong’s wrist, both of their hands ended up hidden inside the sleeve.

The concealed touch, shrouded in secrecy, felt ambiguous and intimate.

It had been a long time since Li Rong and Cen Xiao had shared a moment of closeness.

Li Rong quickly relaxed his wrist, letting Cen Xiao hold onto it, his eyes glimmering with unmistakable mischief and invitation.

Raindrops clinging to the car window sparkled under the sunlight, heightening the charged atmosphere.

Honk, honk—

The blaring horns from the car behind them broke the moment.

Cen Xiao froze, glancing up to see the light had turned green. The cars behind him, growing impatient, honked incessantly.

Li Rong cleared his throat lightly, a smile playing in his eyes as he turned his head away.

Cen Xiao reluctantly released his hand, his expression darkening as he started the car and sped through the intersection.

With the AC turned off, the temperature inside the car gradually dropped.

Li Rong stared at the undulating road ahead and said seriously, “I forgot to tell you something.”

“Hmm?” Cen Xiao responded, driving into a busier part of town.

Li Rong furrowed his brows slightly, his tongue grazing his lips before he said slowly, “I’m not sure if it’s just my imagination, but at the funeral today, I got the feeling Li Baishou didn’t know about the Kuai Yue Yuzhou incident.”

Cen Xiao gave him a sideways glance. “What makes you think that?”

Li Rong murmured, “When I mentioned the Kuai Yue Yuzhou to him today, his reaction seemed like he genuinely didn’t know. I’ve long known he was jealous of my dad and always wanted to surpass him academically. He’s petty, narrow-minded, has limited talent, and likes to take shortcuts. But he’s terrible at hiding his emotions—his likes and dislikes are always written all over his face.

When I previously brought up the manuscript, he was visibly guilty—his expression stiff, his smile unnatural. He was so afraid I’d figure something out that he made up an excuse and fled. But this time, Li Baishou seemed entirely self-assured. Even when discussing donations, his gaze didn’t waver.”

It was strange. They’d been convinced that the media rumors originated from Li Baishou’s jealousy. But what if he really had nothing to do with it?

Although Li Baishou was conniving, his only ambition was to surpass Li Qingli academically. With Li Qingli already deceased, did he still have a reason to smear his reputation?

Or could it be that Liu Tanzhi had acted behind his back, trying to help her husband?

This reasoning felt tenuous, as Li Baishou didn’t exhibit any obvious signs of distancing himself after the incidents with Li Qingli and Gu Nong. He even attended the funeral, repeatedly calling Li Qingli “Old Li.” Though his attitude carried the air of a victor flaunting their success, his brazenness seemed excessive.

If Liu Tanzhi had acted independently in doing those things, she would have likely warned Li Baishou to avoid suspicion, preventing any potential investigations from leading back to them.

Cen Xiao, however, asked, “When did Li Baishou talk to you about the manuscript?”

Li Rong instantly snapped to attention, blinking unnaturally fast.

He’d forgotten—Cen Xiao didn’t know about this.

If he admitted to Cen Xiao that he had asked Blue Pivot to monitor the investigative team because Li Baishou had approached him for the manuscript, Cen Xiao would undoubtedly suspect him once the paper was published.

A high school student couldn’t possibly produce a paper of that caliber. It would force Li Rong to explain his rebirth.

That was a problem. Discussing anything from his previous life in the context of the present would only create a tangled mess.

In the past, he never hesitated because his relationship with Cen Xiao was purely utilitarian. His desire to use Cen Xiao outweighed everything else; he didn’t care what happened to him.

But now… Cen Xiao was slightly different from his previous life. Li Rong wasn’t oblivious; he could sense the change. How could he not react at all?

How could he explain that in their previous life, their relationship was filled with mistrust and deceit? That it ended with him being poisoned to death in the lab without ever seeing the results of his experiments?

How could he confess that he had once harbored the thought of killing Cen Xiao himself? If he had known how to disengage the safety latch, Cen Xiao might have already fallen to his gun.

And how would he clarify his mixed feelings—that while he still carried some resentment for what Cen Xiao had done to him, he also found himself somewhat fond of the current Cen Xiao?

Some truths, once spoken, could irrevocably change the nature of a relationship.

So even though he noticed discrepancies, he didn’t want to unravel them with Cen Xiao.

He didn’t need to speak—at least not yet.

In the world of the wise, feigned ignorance can sometimes be a rare virtue.

Fortunately, Cen Xiao didn’t press the issue. Driving through a speed-restricted city zone, he slowed the car and shifted the topic. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” Li Rong quickly masked his emotions, his expression returning to its usual calm as if he had already forgotten Cen Xiao’s earlier question.

Cen Xiao asked bluntly, “Do you know much about Jiang Weide?”

Li Rong: “…”

Of course, he did.

Jiang Weide had been his mentor for two years. Not only was Li Rong familiar with Jiang’s academic prowess, but he also knew his daily habits inside and out.

Li Rong carefully adjusted his wording. “My… parents said Professor Jiang is a decent person. His academic achievements are impressive. He’s quite disciplined and doesn’t seem interested in leveraging patents to start a company. His sole focus is on research at the Hongsuo Research Institute and mentoring new talent. Almost all his students have become the backbone of the institute. In less than a decade, I believe he’ll become the director of Hongsuo.”

Cen Xiao nodded. “Sounds much more reliable than Hu Yuming.”

Li Rong curled his lips into a faint smile. “The president of District Four, huh.”

Jiang Weide indeed couldn’t stand Hu Yuming. Every time his name came up, Jiang Weide would tremble with anger, ranting about how Hu’s business associations tarnished the research environment.

Cen Xiao commented indifferently, “A person devoted to research, untempted by money, and who remains humble and courteous despite their status—morally speaking, he’s leagues ahead of Hu Yuming.”

“Hmm?” Li Rong frowned, adding cautiously, “It’s not that exaggerated. Professor Jiang has a temper. No scientist is a saint. It’s easy to deify someone but even easier to tear them down.”

His parents were the best example of this.

Back then, when Li Qingli and Gu Nong wanted to start a medical device company, many at A University and Hongsuo Research Institute disapproved. They believed the couple should devote their full attention to research.

But Li Qingli felt the market was chaotic. Rather than letting subpar medical products flood the market, he thought it better to produce reliable ones himself.

Their salaries were already sufficient for household expenses, so profit wasn’t their goal. Li Qingli simply had a heartfelt desire to improve lives.

Unfortunately, the outcome wasn’t as he had hoped.

Cen Xiao remarked casually, “Zhang Zhaohe’s position is one neither of us had even heard of, yet Jiang Weide treated him with great respect, even stepping aside for him. The Hongsuo Institute really is different from the United Commerce Association. Over there, Li Baishou’s attitude is what’s considered normal.”

Li Rong froze. “You noticed that?”

He hadn’t paid much attention to Zhang Zhaohe. The moment Li Baishou arrived, his focus had been entirely on him.

Perhaps his hatred for Li Baishou had caused his brain to filter out everything else.

But Cen Xiao had picked up on what he had missed.

Although it might not mean anything—Jiang Weide could have known Zhang Zhaohe personally, or maybe he was just polite to peers of similar age—it still hinted at something worth pondering.

Li Rong chuckled, “So, what makes you people from Blue Pivot look down on Hongsuo?”

It was just a joke. It’s normal for there to be disagreements and lack of mutual recognition among groups. He didn’t feel there was anything inherently wrong with Blue Pivot’s style.

But Cen Xiao responded seriously, “The original purpose of the United Commerce Association was to create a pure environment for organizations like the Hongsuo Research Institute. Because there are always shady dealings and despicable transactions that corrode people’s hearts, and rigid, cold systems that maintain order with rules that must be followed. While the association punishes unscrupulous enterprises, it also supports good-hearted and capable individuals. Blue Pivot grounds itself in the human world, so Hongsuo can soar high in the clouds.”

Li Rong had heard similar views from his parents before. He smiled, his tone tinged with sarcasm, “It’s a pity so many have already forgotten.”

Cen Xiao gave him a deep look but said nothing.

The sun gradually dipped lower, its blinding lemon-yellow hues mellowing into a soft orange-red.

Their car entered the city center, hitting rush hour traffic, the roads severely congested.

Li Rong hadn’t eaten lunch, and as he gazed at the smoky storefronts lining the streets, his stomach churned painfully.

He clutched his stomach, glanced at the road ahead, and realized it would take at least another hour to reach his dorm at this pace.

Cen Xiao asked, “Stomachache?”

Li Rong shook his head, turned to face Cen Xiao, and said sincerely, “Do you think street food tastes good?”

Cen Xiao: “…”

Li Rong hadn’t tried it before, but Cen Xiao had—back when Xiao Muran didn’t care about health or him.

Swallowing his saliva, Li Rong pointed at the steaming meat-filled buns being prepared by a street vendor outside the car window. “Are you curious? Want to try it?”

Cen Xiao reluctantly said, “… Sure.”

Li Rong unzipped his warm down jacket, pulled out his phone, and eagerly said, “I’ll get two for you.”

Taking advantage of the traffic jam, he glanced around before opening the car door.

Cen Xiao, helpless, called after him, “No hot peppers!”