The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 39

The 17th happened to be a Friday. Li Rong was in an unusually good mood, but it wasn’t because of his birthday. Instead, it was because Aunt Hui told him before he left for school that the reviewer had provided feedback—his paper was accepted and just awaiting publication.

This was by far the smoothest review process Li Rong had ever experienced for one of his papers. Even though he was already an outstanding scholar among his peers and his academic achievements surpassed many seniors, he was still used to grueling criticism from reviewers.

This time, however, he felt for the first time the weight of his father’s academic brilliance. Just a draft hypothesis, yet its logic, content, and data analysis were flawless. The feedback from the reviewer leaned more toward respectful queries for clarification than the usual sharp skepticism.

Li Rong’s parents had passed away before he entered this field. Their unpublished research and ongoing projects had been sealed along with their tarnished reputations. As a result, Li Rong had only ever encountered the more outdated contributions incorporated into textbooks.

He had always known his parents were extraordinary, envied by many. But this understanding had been abstract, comparable to Cui Mingyang’s begrudging attitude toward Li Rong for consistently ranking first in their grade.

Now, however, he truly understood the despair of someone like Li Baishou, who had spent years experiencing the crushing reality of being forever outclassed.

It was a torment that could neither be alleviated nor healed—a toxic tumor growing more malignant with time. 

As long as that brilliant figure lived, life would be a relentless inferno, constantly reminding him of a person as radiant as the moon, while his own sullied soul remained condemned to obscurity.

***

After eating his usual light soup and vegetables at the cafeteria, Li Rong treated himself to an extra pineapple bun with butter. 

He felt that his brain and taste buds deserved to share in the syrupy sweetness of success.

During morning study, while Yang Fenfang wasn’t paying attention, he tore open the bun and slowly savored it, filling his stomach until it was uncomfortably bloated.

When class ended, Jian Fu theatrically waved at Cen Xiao from across the room and called out loudly, “Hey bro, come out for a sec—I’ve got something to ask you!”

Cen Xiao frowned but, seeing how serious Jian Fu appeared, put down his book and got up to follow him outside.

Jian Fu immediately grabbed Cen Xiao’s arm and dragged him out of the classroom.

Not long after, Lin Zhen also left the room, his head bowed in a stern expression.

Li Rong, rubbing his stomach, watched them leave with an exasperated look. After a while, he shook his head and muttered to himself, “If you’re planning a surprise birthday celebration, at least try not to make it obvious…”

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth at their energetic effort.

***

Meanwhile, outside the classroom, Cen Xiao leaned against the wall, looking at Jian Fu with mild disdain. “If you’re going to throw a birthday surprise, could you at least not make it so obvious?”

Jian Fu widened his eyes in shock, glancing at Lin Zhen before turning back to Cen Xiao. “What the heck? How did you know?”

Cen Xiao sighed, knocking his knuckles lightly against the classroom wall. “Not only do I know—do you really think he hasn’t noticed?”

Jian Fu froze, then stammered guiltily, “B-but we used to hang out together all the time. Isn’t it normal for me to call you out? Why would anyone immediately think of a surprise?” He muttered under his breath, “Besides, I’m not even the type to throw surprises.”

Cen Xiao shot him a look. “And what topic would the three of us possibly discuss that has nothing to do with him?”

Lin Zhen stuck out his tongue awkwardly, whispering, “The class monitor has been through so much lately. I can tell he’s changed a lot. He used to be so cold and rarely smiled, but now he smiles more often and says encouraging things to others.

Sigh, if someone were truly carefree, why would they feel the need to say things like that? He must convince himself that the world isn’t so bad just to hold onto hope that one day he might receive fair treatment.”

Jian Fu hadn’t felt much before, seeing birthdays as an excuse for casual fun with friends. But after hearing Lin Zhen’s words, he suddenly felt a twinge of guilt.

“Are all you artsy types this sentimental?” 

Lin Zhen gave him a resigned look. “Don’t you think all those cheesy motivational quotes and life philosophies were created by humans to mend their broken hearts?”

Jian Fu waved dismissively. “I don’t read that stuff—thinking too much gives me a headache.”

Unlike them, Cen Xiao remained calm. His eyes swept over the other two as he asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

Jian Fu raised a hand and pointed at Lin Zhen, gesturing with his mouth. “Ask him.”

Lin Zhen finally perked up, his eyes lighting up as he raised his arms to explain excitedly, “Jian Fu and I rented out a theater. We’re planning to trick the class monitor into watching a comedy movie. But actually, we’ve already prepared a cake! Once the movie ends and the lights come on, we’ll roll the cake in!

The gifts we got for him are hidden under the seats, and after we finish singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ we’ll give them to him. I was even thinking about hanging some banners on the theater walls, but it seems like there’s no time for that now…

It might sound a little cliché, but it works really well! Our professional training instructor said that tons of celebrities pull off surprises like this.”

Jian Fu tilted his chin slightly, emphasizing his contribution. “The cake is custom-ordered from that bakery we always go to, and I was the one who arranged the theater. Not bad, right?”

Cen Xiao furrowed his brows for a moment, then nodded and patted Jian Fu’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll reimburse you.”

Jian Fu waved dismissively, indifferent. “I don’t really care about the money. The key is to get the gifts in place beforehand. Lin Zhen already sent the painting he bought straight to the theater. So, what did you get, bro?”

Lin Zhen also looked at Cen Xiao expectantly. He knew that Li Rong and Cen Xiao were closer, and given Cen Xiao’s privileged background, he’d probably manage to surprise the class monitor with something extraordinary.

Under their curious gazes, Cen Xiao paused for a few seconds before admitting frankly, “I didn’t buy anything.”

Jian Fu thought he had misheard. Confused, he asked, “You didn’t buy anything?”

He found it hard to believe. As someone who didn’t even particularly get along with Li Rong, Jian Fu had spent half a day preparing. Surely Cen Xiao, who had no intention of distancing himself from Li Rong, would go all out.

As a result, nothing.

Lin Zhen was equally baffled. “Was it because you didn’t have enough time? If so, we could still—”

Having spent time with Jian Fu, Lin Zhen had come to understand that some people simply weren’t detail-oriented. Forgetting something didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t care—it just wasn’t their strong suit. And considering how busy their senior year was, everyone barely had time for their own matters, let alone their deskmate’s.

Cen Xiao spoke with an air of indifference, “I couldn’t find anything he’d like, so I didn’t bother.”

Jian Fu, ever the opportunist, scratched his nose and nodded in agreement. “Makes sense. I mean, after all this time, I still don’t know what he really likes. Besides, even if there’s something he wants to figure out, we can’t help him right now. Honestly, even my dad or Cen Xiao’s dad probably wouldn’t be able to help.”

Lin Zhen wanted to argue that gifts were about the sentiment, but he didn’t dare lecture Cen Xiao.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lin Zhen said, “It’s fine. The class monitor probably won’t mind. The main point is just for everyone to relax and watch a movie together. We’ve been going non-stop since the start of senior year.”

Jian Fu turned to Lin Zhen. “What about you? Don’t your parents keep a tight leash on you? Are they okay with you going out for a night?”

Lin Zhen smiled. “It’s Friday, so I just told them I was exhausted and needed a break. Plus, my instructor has a date tonight, so my training session got moved to tomorrow.”

Jian Fu glanced at Cen Xiao. “Do we need to tell Old Yang about this? I don’t think it’s necessary. Let’s just leave after school.”

Cen Xiao replied, “I’ll handle the leave request. Don’t worry about it.”

Lin Zhen trusted Cen Xiao completely. After all, Old Yang rarely refused him.

In the two years Lin Zhen had been in the class, he had noticed that although Old Yang often emphasized fairness, there were clear differences in how she treated certain students.

For instance, he recently learned that Old Yang had planned to replace Li Rong as class monitor with Cui Mingyang to avoid potential troubles. However, the plan was ultimately vetoed by none other than Cen Xiao.

When Cen Xiao returned to class, he saw Li Rong resting his chin in his hand, watching him with amused curiosity, as if waiting for him to speak.

Cen Xiao wasn’t surprised. He was well aware of Li Rong’s sharpness.

He sat down, his gaze landing on Li Rong’s relaxed face, and asked, “Want to go see a movie tonight?”

Li Rong blinked and couldn’t help but chuckle.

His shoulders shook with mirth, and even the arm propping up his chin wobbled.

If he hadn’t already guessed the evening’s plan, he might have thought this was an awkward date invitation, the kind clumsy second male leads in dramas make.

“Oh, sure.”

But he didn’t spoil the surprise. Ruining someone’s planned surprise was the biggest buzzkill.

Judging by Li Rong’s expression, Cen Xiao could tell he’d already pieced most of it together. He’d probably even mentally rehearsed Lin Zhen’s plan. 

But Cen Xiao trusted that, even if Li Rong knew, he’d still act surprised on the spot.

Cen Xiao added, “The theater’s in Binhu New Town. We’ll go after class.”

Li Rong pursed his lips and looked up with an inscrutable expression. “Will we make it back to the dorms tonight?”

After a brief silence, Cen Xiao’s eyes flashed with an unreserved intensity. He lowered his voice. “If it were just the two of us, you probably wouldn’t make it back.”

Li Rong’s smile deepened. The thin folds of his eyelids formed an arc as he turned away, flipping through unfinished worksheets. He deliberately ignored the implicit suggestion.

To Li Rong, his 18th birthday didn’t hold extraordinary significance—after all, his real age was almost 24. 

If it meant anything, it was that he was now an adult in a legal sense, free to do things only adults could.

At lunch, the four of them ate in the cafeteria. Lin Zhen and Jian Fu kept it simple—one had tofu soup, the other sushi. Cen Xiao had two slices of pizza. Realizing there might be a feast that night, Li Rong cooperated by ordering only a bowl of egg custard.

During lunch, Lin Zhen shared amusing stories about past art exams and gossip about veteran artists his teachers mentioned. Jian Fu, as usual, veered the conversation toward basketball—players, games—but they avoided anything remotely related to birthdays. This deliberate omission only made Li Rong’s acting challenge harder.

He had to seamlessly join random, forced group chats and maintain a convincingly oblivious and innocent demeanor.

He just hoped time would hurry up and skip to the evening.

Finally, class ended. As Li Rong sipped from his thermos, Jian Fu sauntered over with his hands in his pockets, glancing at Cen Xiao while sneaking looks at Li Rong.

“Ah, class is finally over. We’ve got tomorrow off anyway. How about a movie tonight? There’s a new comedy that’s really popular.”

Li Rong lowered his eyes, focusing on the rim of his cup as if he hadn’t heard, and continued drinking.

Jian Fu nudged Cen Xiao and then slouched at his desk, one arm on Li Rong’s table. “Hey, you in? The lead is your spirit animal—a panda.”

Li Rong: “…”

Setting down his thermos, Li Rong wiped his lips with the back of his hand and said calmly, “Sure. Why don’t you ask Lin Zhen if he’s coming too?”

It was a logical response since he usually checked with Lin Zhen about group plans.

Before Jian Fu could react, Lin Zhen had already run over, following the script, and enthusiastically chimed in, “You’re going to a movie? Count me in!”

Jian Fu cleared his throat. “Ahem… I was just about to ask. Let’s all go together.”

Li Rong lowered his head, his lips curving slightly. Lin Zhen’s acting skills clearly needed work.

Cen Xiao made the final call. “We’ll take my car.”

Only then did Li Rong start packing up, though he’d already tucked the essentials into his bag earlier.

Cen Xiao’s family driver took them to the theater without a hitch.

Li Rong hadn’t been to any entertainment venues in a long time—not just in this life, but in his previous one as well.

He felt as though he’d lost the ability to experience ordinary joy. Only work gave him a sense of accomplishment, and only his battles with Cen Xiao provided him with any emotional stimulation.

He allowed himself to indulge in this unhealthy mindset, treating it as punishment for being the only one who survived.

Lin Zhen and Jian Fu pretended to fiddle with the self-service ticket machine, while Li Rong tilted his head back, staring absentmindedly at the theater’s promotional posters.

The posters featured heroic figures—breaking free from their cocoons, reborn in fire, and effortlessly solving life-or-death dilemmas.

In just two short hours, he could witness the entirety of a hero’s journey, from despair to triumph.

Sometimes, he wished time could move as swiftly as a movie, fast-forwarding to reveal the conclusion of his own story.

Outside the theater, the popcorn machine churned away, and the ice cream machine hummed softly.

Children dashed around the lobby, screaming and laughing, while adults hunched over on small sofas, legs crossed, engrossed in their phones.

Li Rong raised a finger toward one of the posters and tilted his head, asking Cen Xiao, “Which one are we watching?”

The public space was so noisy that Cen Xiao had to lean close to Li Rong’s ear, their shoulders brushing together. “Jian Fu booked an animated film about pandas. He thought it suited you. But if you want to switch, we can. We’ve reserved the whole theater.”

Li Rong glanced at the animated film he’d rarely watched as a child. Smiling wryly, he muttered, “This is fine. It’s been years since I last saw a movie.”

Cen Xiao raised an eyebrow, giving him a meaningful look before turning away and casually asking, “Years since you last saw a movie?”

Li Rong’s eyelids twitched, and his gaze faltered. After a moment, he added in a calm tone, “Years since I last saw a movie I liked.”

“Oh.” Cen Xiao responded lightly.

With the surrounding noise, Li Rong couldn’t tell if that response was real or imagined.

Lin Zhen and Jian Fu returned with the tickets.

Jian Fu said, “Hurry, hurry! It’s already started, and we’re not even inside yet!”

Lin Zhen added, “VIP theater, Row 5 and Row 6—best seats in the house.”

The two rushed ahead, enthusiastically leading the way to the ticket check.

The ticket checker, seemingly prearranged, glanced at their theater and handed them four pairs of 3D glasses.

“The movie has started. Please enter quietly.”

Li Rong lowered his head, studying the 3D glasses. He figured they were just another prop to distract him from the birthday surprise.

The VIP theater was at the far end, its doors open, revealing a pitch-black room where the movie had already begun.

Li Rong turned to Lin Zhen. “You and Jian Fu take Row 5. I’ll sit with Cen Xiao in Row 6.”

Lin Zhen looked back. “Okay, but let’s put on our glasses first since it’s already started.”

Li Rong knew Lin Zhen was trying to prevent him from noticing the surprise, so he curved his lips slightly and put on his glasses.

The 3D glasses blurred his vision, blocking peripheral views and making the movie screen the clearest thing in sight.

But as soon as he stepped into the theater, he caught a faint whiff of cream.

It must have been a prepared cake that had passed through here.

“Whoa!” At the stairs, Li Rong instinctively grabbed Cen Xiao’s hand. The movie’s opening was dimly lit, and the theater was so dark he almost tripped.

“Watch your step,” Cen Xiao said, gripping his hand tightly and helping him steady himself.

Li Rong felt the familiar warmth of Cen Xiao’s palm pressing against his, a steady and deliberate contact that carried an unspoken intimacy in the darkness.

His chest tingled, and he unconsciously licked his dry lips.

They climbed the steps to Row 6. The floor ahead was level, but Li Rong intentionally didn’t let go of Cen Xiao’s hand.

As the movie played, the flickering light revealed the empty theater—it was just them.

Li Rong also noticed Lin Zhen sneaking glances toward the back row. The changing light cast shifting shadows on their faces.

So, the gifts were likely in the back.

Jian Fu pointed to the seat numbers on the chair backs, guiding Lin Zhen to the best spot. Lin Zhen fumbled in the dim light, found his seat, and sank into it.

He gestured for Jian Fu to put on his glasses quickly.

Li Rong led Cen Xiao to their seats, avoiding sitting directly behind Lin Zhen and Jian Fu. Instead, he chose the innermost seat by the wall.

Since the theater was theirs, seating arrangements didn’t matter.

Cen Xiao had no objections. In such an environment, he could admire Li Rong’s figure without restraint.

Li Rong’s slim, pale left arm, the faint outline of his shoulder blades, the soft curls at the nape of his neck—all were vividly alive and breathtakingly beautiful before him.

Li Rong found his seat and bent down to sit, but his loose 3D glasses slipped down his nose.

His right hand was on the chair, his left still held by Cen Xiao. Surprised, he could only gasp as the glasses slid.

Before they fell, a hand appeared to steady the frames.

Li Rong instinctively closed his eyes, lips pressed tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

“Careful.”

Cen Xiao’s low voice followed as his ring finger supported the glasses, and his middle finger traced Li Rong’s nose bridge, slowly and deliberately pushing them back into place.

The dry warmth of his fingertips left a faint electric tingle along Li Rong’s skin. His breath fell on Cen Xiao’s hand, mingling imperceptibly with his own.

Li Rong’s lashes trembled uncontrollably. He raised his gaze, peering through the dim gray plastic lenses and the tiny gap between fingers, locking eyes with Cen Xiao.

Cen Xiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and the lines of his palm brushed over Li Rong’s lips, as if unintentionally, leaving a fleeting kiss pressed into his palm.

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