The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 38

Li Rong’s lashes trembled briefly, and the corners of his lips curled slightly into a smile.

Leaning casually against the desk, Cen Xiao bent his left leg slightly, lowering his height to meet Li Rong’s gaze directly.

The air grew increasingly charged with an ambiguous tension. All it would take was a single motion for Cen Xiao to wrap his arms around Li Rong’s slender waist, hidden beneath the cotton jacket. The desk in the room was the perfect tool—not just wide and long enough but also just the right height.

Li Rong wasn’t very fleshy; his wrist bone pressed lightly against Cen Xiao’s palm, where his fingertips could clearly feel Li Rong’s pulse quickening.

Li Rong moved his fingers slightly, the smirk lingering on his lips. He lifted his gaze to Cen Xiao, his eyes glinting mischievously. Then, with a sudden flex of his wrist, he pressed his palm forcefully against Cen Xiao’s bruised side.

“If you’re into pain, you should’ve said so earlier. How else would I know about your preferences?”

Cen Xiao drew in a sharp breath.

The ribcage was naturally a sensitive spot—uncomfortable when prodded under normal circumstances, let alone with injuries as severe as his.

He clenched his teeth for a few seconds, waiting for the pain to subside. Then, with a sudden shift, he wrapped his arm around Li Rong’s waist, slid his left leg forward to hook behind Li Rong’s heel, and as the latter instinctively stepped back and lost his balance, Cen Xiao twisted his torso, pinning Li Rong against the desk.

It was a classic close-combat move, one Cen Xiao had used countless times to slam his opponents onto the ground. But this time, he carefully cushioned Li Rong’s waist with his hand to prevent him from hitting the edge of the desk.

Li Rong’s past two years of training weren’t for nothing, though. As soon as he felt his footing give way, he arched his back, gripping Cen Xiao’s arm to lift his head defensively. His right knee instinctively bent, ready to counterattack.

But after that split-second reaction, Li Rong quickly realized he wasn’t in any real danger. His eyes flickered, and he relaxed his grip, allowing his weight to rest fully on the desk. His fingers slid down the length of Cen Xiao’s arm, tracing lightly as they went.

Cen Xiao narrowed his eyes, his teeth lightly gritting as his Adam’s apple bobbed once. In a low voice, he said, “You really think just because I’m injured, I can’t—”

Before he could finish, footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Dormitories weren’t soundproofed like regular homes; the only barrier was the door, leaving little separation between inside and outside.

It was the time for the dorm matron to make her rounds. To ensure the safety of the boarding students, she checked each room every night to confirm that everyone was accounted for. The small window on the dorm room door was specifically designed for her to peek inside.

Li Rong heard the matron’s voice in the hallway: “Liu Mingxiu, are you there? Oh, there you are.”

Still sprawled on the desk, Li Rong’s hand laid open, his soft hair scattered in disarray.

His breathing was slightly uneven. “… She’s going to check my room soon.”

Cen Xiao’s gaze lingered on Li Rong’s warm neck peeking out from beneath his snowy white jacket, his finely contoured jawline, and his slightly reddened lips. His throat felt dry, and he couldn’t care less about matrons or rules.

Li Rong, his eyes glinting with amusement, raised a finger and tapped lazily on the desk. “No big deal. My reputation’s already bad. People will just say that the son of Chairman Cen was caught doing unspeakable things in a dormitory, severely tarnishing the school’s moral standards.”

Cen Xiao had been blackmailed by Li Rong before and recognized this as one of his usual ploys. He chuckled softly, “I’m not particularly concerned about my father’s reputation or the school’s so-called standards.”

The dorm matron marked a check next to Liu Mingxiu’s name and approached Li Rong’s door. From the angle of the window, she’d just be able to see the edge of the large desk—and Cen Xiao’s bare back.

Li Rong’s past-life experiences still left him with lingering habits. He knew Cen Xiao was impulsive enough to not care about consequences.

And their current posture didn’t exactly scream innocence. With Cen Xiao shirtless and his body covered in a patchwork of bruises, it would be hard to explain away.

Swallowing nervously, Li Rong tuned his ears to the sounds at the door and raised his hand, still coated with ointment. Feigning innocence, he said, “I haven’t finished applying it yet. Cen Xiao, are you cold? Should I turn on the air conditioner for you?”

Cen Xiao gave a soft snort.

The dorm matron called out from the door, “Li Rong?”

“Here!” Li Rong quickly propped himself up on his elbows, barely managing to sit up. The white cotton jacket slipped from his shoulder and clung to his arm, crackling softly with static.

After responding, he took advantage of the brief distraction to quickly drape a shirt over Cen Xiao’s shoulders.

The matron peeked inside, seeing the two of them huddled by the desk, with Li Rong holding the shirt over Cen Xiao’s shoulders.

“Oh, still tutoring someone? Don’t stay up too late, now,” the matron said.

She knew about Li Rong’s circumstances—how his family’s assets had been seized and how the senior year student had to rely on tutoring to support himself. Feeling sorry for him, she often turned a blind eye to minor rule violations.

Li Rong cast a glance toward the door, muttering, “Yes, we’re just about ‘done.’”

The last word was laced with a faint edge, as if he were grinding his teeth.

Once the matron left, Li Rong shook his hand, utterly unrepentant. “Tch, the ointment got on your shirt.”

In his haste, he had inadvertently smeared some leftover ointment on the shirt collar.

Cen Xiao glanced at the stained shirt but turned his gaze to the dormitory door. “Is the dorm always so exposed?”

He hadn’t realized before that the small glass window in the dorm door was specifically for the dormitory supervisor to check in on them. But since the dorm housed all male students, it wasn’t exactly convenient.

Li Rong pouted reluctantly. “What did you expect? It’s not like this is your own home.”

Because of this, everyone was careful not to leave things lying around in the dorm, worried that something they didn’t want seen might get noticed.

Cen Xiao shook out his clothes and said indifferently, “I can help you apply for an exemption. You could cover the window.”

Li Rong shrugged nonchalantly. “They can look if they want. I’m used to it.”

Humans are remarkably adaptable creatures. No matter how strange something might seem at first, once you experience it, you learn to accept it.

Those who can’t adapt to change are inevitably eliminated by nature.

Cen Xiao gave him a long, steady look. “I’m not used to it.”

He wasn’t used to seeing Li Rong in his pajamas, groggy with sleep. He wasn’t used to seeing Li Rong with damp hair after a shower. He wasn’t used to seeing all those little quirks—private, endearing habits—being visible to others.

Because once you see them, you can’t forget them.

Li Rong raised an eyebrow, tilting his head thoughtfully.

Cen Xiao’s tone was strikingly familiar—like something he’d said in their previous life. Li Rong seemed to recall him saying something similar a long time ago. But back then, Li Rong had thought Cen Xiao was jealous because of Song Yuanyuan.

Later, he realized it wasn’t jealousy over someone else—it was about him.

Li Rong swallowed the strange flutter in his chest and squeezed out more ointment, rubbing it into Cen Xiao’s injuries. This time, his movements were firm, pressing hard to break up the stiffened bruises.

Cen Xiao’s muscles tensed, but he didn’t so much as flinch, not even furrowing his brow.

After finishing, Li Rong tossed the empty tube into the trash and exhaled deeply. “Alright, if you don’t head back soon, your driver’s going to lose patience.”

Cen Xiao pulled on his sweater and watched as Li Rong wiped his hands with a tissue. “My driver trusts my ability to handle myself.”

Still wiping his hands, Li Rong responded absentmindedly, “Really? Then he probably doesn’t know how you got these injuries.”

Cen Xiao countered calmly, “And do you know?”

Li Rong clenched his fist, crumpling the tissue into a ball in his palm. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “If you want to share, I’d love to hear it.”

Cen Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you weren’t curious.”

After all, Li Rong had shown no signs of curiosity, as if he already knew the answer.

Li Rong met his gaze quietly and shrugged innocently.

But in his mind, several questions surfaced.

What exactly was the Ninth District’s allure?

How powerful was the Ghost Eye group?

And why had the department reputed to oversee irregular commercial activity within the United Commerce Association gone silent during the bankruptcy of his father’s equipment company?

The quiet inactivity of District Nine only made more people within Hongsuo believe that Li Qingli and Gu Nong must have truly been guilty. 

Otherwise, District Nine would’ve uncovered something—they never spared anyone with ulterior motives.

Cen Xiao lowered his gaze, catching a faint whiff of the ointment on his collar. 

He didn’t push for answers. Instead, he reached out to pick a stray hair from Li Rong’s shoulder, rolling it between his fingers. “Don’t forget to cover the window.”

***

The next morning during early study, Yang Fenfang was inspecting classroom cleanliness. She stopped at Lin Zhen’s desk and tapped on it, speaking earnestly, “Even though you’re focusing on the art exam, cultural subjects are still important. Try not to skip night study sessions to make up for lessons. I saw you leave without your bag after school yesterday. I’ve already informed your parents.”

Lin Zhen shot to his feet, bowing his head in apology. “Yes, I’ll do my best to adjust my schedule.”

He was utterly cornered. 

If it hadn’t been for Jian Fu, he could’ve returned early and avoided being caught skipping night study altogether.

Now his parents thought he was getting distracted, not taking his studies seriously anymore, and nagged him for a full two hours.

Originally, he had only wanted to buy a painting, but Jian Fu insisted on dragging him to look at snowboards. After browsing around, Jian Fu still wasn’t satisfied and insisted they visit an indoor ski slope to give it a try.

Eager to promote his hobby, Jian Fu practically begged Lin Zhen to join him. Lin Zhen reluctantly went along.

Unfortunately, skiing was far harder to master than it looked. The moment Lin Zhen stepped onto the skis, he wobbled unsteadily. Most of his attempts ended not with sliding down gracefully but crashing to the ground.

Jian Fu, an experienced skier, pressed his board down and squatted near where Lin Zhen had fallen, smirking mischievously.

“Come on, little superstar. Your balance is this bad? How do you even manage to dance?”

Lin Zhen, covered in snow from his hair to his collar, his ears and neck flushed red from the cold, lacked Jian Fu’s quick wit. In the end, he simply plopped down on the snow, tossed his skis aside, and refused to continue.

Jian Fu realized his goading had backfired, completely extinguishing Lin Zhen’s interest in skiing.

Frowning, Jian Fu tugged at Lin Zhen’s jacket and softened his tone. “Hey, you’re giving up already? Even if Li Rong doesn’t necessarily like skiing, the entertainment industry you want to enter is full of people who do. You’ve got to at least know something about it, or you’ll have no idea what they’re talking about at social events.”

Lin Zhen huffed angrily. “Like you’d know everything.”

Jian Fu clicked his tongue in exasperation and muttered under his breath, “Why’s your temper getting worse lately?”

In the end, they did as Lin Zhen wanted and managed to buy the painting before the store closed. 

Jian Fu, not bothering to think of a gift on his own, paid to have the painting framed, deciding it would count as a joint gift from both of them.

Li Rong glanced at Lin Zhen out of the corner of his eye and shook his head quietly. “Lin Zhen used to never get scolded by teachers. Ever since he started hanging out with us, he’s been called out more and more often.”

Cen Xiao let out a faint “heh” and replied flatly, “You’re the one who brought him in. It has nothing to do with me.”

Li Rong looked him up and down, barely suppressing a laugh. “Don’t tell me… you’re jealous of Lin Zhen?”

He could hardly imagine Cen Xiao being so childish, but it seemed like every time Lin Zhen was mentioned, Cen Xiao reacted a little.

This seemed to have started after Lin Zhen gave him that bottle of hot milk.

Cen Xiao sneered. “Me? Jealous of him?”

Li Rong bumped Cen Xiao with his shoulder and murmured softly, “Don’t I treat you well too? I even went out of my way to apply medicine for you.”

Cen Xiao flipped through his textbook, the crisp pages rustling under his fingers, though it was clear his mind wasn’t on studying.

Without looking up, he replied lightly, “And have I never applied medicine for you?”

Li Rong stretched his arm across the invisible boundary between their desks, resting his hand on Cen Xiao’s book and brushing his fingertips against the back of Cen Xiao’s hand. “I specifically served you stir-fried rice noodles. No one else got any.”

Cen Xiao raised his eyes, closed his book, and countered, “Have I ever fed roasted sweet potatoes to anyone else?”

An unspoken tension lingered between them, an invisible tug-of-war. It was a childish competition, yet losing somehow felt like an undeniable defeat.

No matter how mature someone’s mind might be, when it comes to emotions, they’re inevitably brought down to a more basic level of reasoning.

The morning self-study bell rang shrilly, and Yang Fenfang left the classroom. Jian Fu, as carefree as ever, darted to Cen Xiao’s desk and asked eagerly, “What are you guys talking about? Let me join in!”

Li Rong pressed his fingers to his temples, quietly picked up his thermos, and took a long drink.

Cen Xiao lowered his head and resumed flipping through his textbook.