The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 40

Cen Xiao slowly withdrew his hand. Li Rong straightened his back, licking his lower lip as though savoring the moment.

The immersive surround sound of the movie provided a perfect shield. Lin Zhen and Jian Fu, seated in the front row, were oblivious to their subtle exchange.

Lin Zhen adjusted his glasses, his expression focused on the film, muttering something under his breath.

As someone who had one foot in the industry, he found the movie intriguing.

Jian Fu, having chosen the film, was familiar with the comedic storyline. Upon hearing Lin Zhen’s comments, he immediately launched into an animated explanation, pointing things out as he went.

Lin Zhen, exhaling deeply, tried to endure it, but eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He raised a hand to cover Jian Fu’s mouth.

Already nervous from orchestrating today’s surprise, Lin Zhen had been partially distracted by the movie. Jian Fu’s incessant chatter, however, brought his anxiety back with a vengeance.

Jian Fu, quick to react, dodged Lin Zhen’s hand with a tilt of his head, grinning smugly. “Trying to ambush me? I’ve trained for this, you know.”

Lin Zhen sighed and shook his head, lowering his voice in an attempt to quiet him. “Stop talking.”

Jian Fu raised his brows and suddenly slung an arm around Lin Zhen’s neck, pulling him close. “What’s with your bad temper lately? Even celebrities don’t have such a big attitude.”

Though Jian Fu didn’t exert much force—his grip was just playful—the unprepared Lin Zhen, unused to such physical antics, stumbled forward, his face flushing as he collided with Jian Fu’s chest.

Flustered, Lin Zhen pried Jian Fu’s arm away and scolded, “Stop fooling around.”

Jian Fu glanced at his arm and pouted.

He couldn’t help but admit that Lin Zhen’s training for his acting exams had paid off. Unlike his other friends, who were either burly from workouts or sports, Lin Zhen’s physique was lean and graceful. His musculature, though subtle, was precisely where it needed to be, pleasing to the eye without being frail.

Jian Fu thought to himself: Being a future star really sets you apart.

Li Rong withdrew his gaze from the two in front and looked at the large screen.

He found himself unable to muster any interest in the comedic animation. Having missed the opening exposition, he quickly grew impatient watching the panda bounce around.

In a voice only Cen Xiao could hear, he asked, “Is the cake in the emergency exit? I smelled cream.”

Cen Xiao, equally uninterested in the film, recognized the rare alignment of their thoughts.

Realizing he couldn’t keep it from Li Rong, he softly replied, “En.”

Leaning back in his seat with one leg crossed, Li Rong swayed the tip of his shoe and mused, “I’m guessing Lin Zhen hid the gift under the theater seats. He kept glancing back when we walked in, probably worried the staff didn’t place it properly, and I’d notice.”

Cen Xiao followed his line of thought. “It’s in the back row—a painting. It’s pretty large, so they had trouble hiding it.”

Li Rong pursed his lips thoughtfully. After a pause, he said slowly, “My mom liked modern art, and my dad preferred classical. The paintings in our house were always a jarring mix—ancient landscapes on one wall and surreal installations of wire and screws on the other. But over time, I got used to it. They’ve all been confiscated and auctioned off now, though, so I doubt I’ll see them again.”

Cen Xiao looked at him with layered meaning, murmuring, “You’ll have more someday.”

Li Rong smiled faintly. “I mean, I like both modern and classical art because of them. Lin Zhen is quite thoughtful; I should act more surprised later.”

Cen Xiao didn’t respond, his gaze returning to the screen.

Li Rong chuckled silently, propping his elbow on the armrest and leaning closer to Cen Xiao. “Jian Fu definitely forgot my birthday. He’s just tagging along with Lin Zhen, helping out wherever he can, like booking this theater.”

Cen Xiao replied, “You seem to understand him well.”

Li Rong quickly added, “But I don’t know you well enough. I’ve been trying to guess what you’d give me and how you’d do it.”

He leaned closer, tapping his fingers lightly on the leather armrest, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

He recalled teasing Cen Xiao about November 17th during Song Yuanyuan’s birthday. At the time, they weren’t as close, and it was more of a joke.

But now, he was genuinely curious about what Cen Xiao would come up with.

Cen Xiao turned to face him, his gaze steady and close enough for their breaths to mingle.

His lips moved, a complex emotion brewing in his dark eyes. “I have a question. If you can answer it honestly, I’ll tell you what I’m planning to give.”

Li Rong instinctively swallowed, his idle fingers subtly tightening around the armrest.

Without blinking, he met Cen Xiao’s gaze. The air between them grew taut, their breaths heavy with tension.

Several thoughts raced through Li Rong’s mind.

He wasn’t sure if Cen Xiao had picked up on something. There were several secrets he hadn’t shared, and the subject of his rebirth was impossible to explain.

But he had a faint sense that the meticulously built wall between them was starting to waver.

Before he could respond, Cen Xiao asked directly, “Did you know I’m planning to apply to District Nine?”

Li Rong exhaled in relief. This wasn’t a particularly tricky question, nor the most challenging one Cen Xiao could have posed.

If he had, Li Rong might not have been able to answer truthfully.

Li Rong’s eyelids quivered as he took a deep breath and nodded. “I know. When you came to deliver the draft notice for the Talented Students Program, Yang Fenfang told me.”

It seemed that his calm reaction to the scars on Cen Xiao’s body had made Cen Xiao suspicious.

Li Rong wasn’t worried about betraying the homeroom teacher, as he knew Cen Xiao wouldn’t hold a grudge against Yang Fenfang over this.

But since the conversation had reached this point, Li Rong decided not to keep all his questions bottled up. He lifted his gaze and asked in return, “I’m curious—why do you want to apply to District Nine? District Three would be a much better choice for you, whether you’re aiming to replace Cen Qing or seeking prestige and status.”

His tense fingers gradually relaxed, and the fleeting tension in his eyes was replaced by a more assertive expression.

Cen Xiao didn’t directly answer his question.

He pulled back slightly, clasping his hands casually over his knees, and asked, “How much do you know about District Nine?”

“Not much,” Li Rong paused before speaking slowly. “District Nine, though nominally under the United Commerce Association, was initially formed by ordinary citizens, small businesses, and independent merchants as a watchdog organization.

“It operates independently of United Commerce and the Hongsuo Institute of Research. Every year, it conducts random inspections of businesses. If any unethical practices are confirmed, District Nine calls for industry-wide boycotts against them with the backing of the Association and Hongsuo-affiliated companies.

“Within District Nine, there’s a unique system of mutual oversight, where subordinates can hold superiors accountable, and vice versa. This keeps even internal members constantly on edge.

“The key functional body within District Nine is the ‘Ghost Eye Unit.’ All other departments exist to support it. The Ghost Eye Unit disregards seniority and readily promotes talented newcomers, often because these rookies haven’t yet been caught up in the factional disputes, allowing them to act more impartially. But if a member is found to be corrupt or harboring malicious intentions, they’re discarded without mercy.”

Cen Xiao nodded and added, “District Nine gained its reputation during its early days, largely thanks to the first Ghost Eye Unit leader, who personally sent his son to prison.

His son, drunk one night, mistook a freshman at A University for his girlfriend and assaulted her.

After sobering up, he apologized profusely, kowtowed, and offered financial compensation. Even the girl began to waver. Many people advised the leader to pull some strings and help his son avoid legal consequences.

But he refused. Instead, he gathered evidence and had his son convicted of assault.

The leader himself was also subjected to rigorous scrutiny afterward. When the results came out, it became clear he was entirely clean—never covering for any unscrupulous businesses. The United Association was left in a state of panic, but District Nine’s authority was firmly established. Even the heads of major commmerce and the director of the Hongsuo Institute tread carefully around the Ghost Eye Unit leader.”

Li Rong, who hadn’t known this piece of history, finally understood why District Nine was synonymous with truth and justice in everyone’s eyes.

However, he vaguely recalled a significant event involving District Nine from his previous life.

The year he entered the Hongsuo Institute, the former Ghost Eye Unit leader, Han Jiang, abruptly resigned. The reason was never made clear. His replacement wasn’t the experienced deputy leader but a top graduate from A University—Du Mingli—who had joined District Nine only four years prior.

Du Mingli wasn’t young. After graduating, he had worked across various industries—finance, law, pharmaceuticals, and journalism. It was astonishing that one person could excel in so many fields over the span of a decade.

Perhaps finding life unchallenging, Du Mingli decided to apply to District Nine in middle age.

Coming from an unremarkable background, Du Mingli was essentially a blank slate compared to other candidates. Ironically, this lack of baggage made him seem cleaner and more trustworthy.

Rumors swirled that Du Mingli had found incriminating evidence against Han Jiang and reported it to District Nine’s internal review unit, forcing Han Jiang’s resignation and paving the way for Du Mingli’s promotion.

Oddly, though, Han Jiang’s alleged misconduct was never revealed. District Nine uncharacteristically avoided making it public, even downplaying Han Jiang’s existence. In the end, no one knew what he had done wrong.

After Du Mingli’s promotion, District Nine’s reputation as a “cold, inhuman machine” softened. As someone of humble origins, Du Mingli carried himself with humility and politeness, earning a natural affinity from others.

Li Rong calculated the timeline—it seemed that Du Mingli’s decision to apply to District Nine coincided with Cen Xiao’s application.

He cast a meaningful glance at Cen Xiao.

Was this merely a coincidence?

Had Cen Xiao chosen District Nine over District Three because he aspired to become the Ghost Eye Unit leader?

In Li Rong’s previous life, Du Mingli had entered District Nine as the top candidate and was directly appointed as the leader of Team Three. He had been the most outstanding newcomer of his year, and few questioned his eventual rise to the leader position.

If Cen Xiao were to compete, would Du Mingli still rise to the top?

“You…” Li Rong hesitated. He didn’t know how to tell Cen Xiao that being the son of a commerce president was both a powerful advantage and a fatal vulnerability.

Stepping into District Nine meant treading on ice that could collapse at any moment.

Cen Xiao gazed straight ahead, his tone solemn as he said, “Li Rong, listen carefully. This is the birthday gift I’m going to give you.”

The clock’s hands slowly approached seven o’clock.

At this moment, the latitude and longitude of City A tilted into the shadow of the sun. The last trace of light faded from the horizon, plunging the city into complete darkness.

The long stretch of night ahead promised no warmth, as the dwindling sunlight gave way to a cold dampness beneath the clouds.

Li Rong felt a subtle tremor in his heart.

He had never seen Cen Xiao like this—his expression serious to the point of resolute desperation, as though he had staked everything on this moment.

Li Rong’s palms were faintly damp with sweat, his heartbeat quickening. In the dim, enclosed space of the cinema, he found himself experiencing a rare and unfamiliar sense of unease.

He opened his mouth, about to call Cen Xiao’s name.

But then, he heard Cen Xiao’s voice—low, gentle, and filled with unexpected weight:

“You can use me however you like.”