The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 52

Li Rong found himself unable to describe his emotions at that moment.

What was supposed to be a tranquil and windless New Year’s Eve had suddenly been graced by falling snow.

The snowflakes were delicate and light, floating unhurriedly through the air and taking a long time to settle quietly on the ground.

If not for the lemon-yellow streetlights capturing their descent, Li Rong might not have even noticed their presence.

The saying goes, “A timely snow promises a prosperous year.” It felt like a gift from the heavens.

Pulling the window open slightly, Li Rong allowed the accumulated dust on the frame to scatter into the air. It lingered briefly before being swept away by the falling snow.

The cool, earthy scent of the outdoors gradually wafted in, spreading a chilly sensation across his skin. Yet this connection to the vast, boundless world brought him a profound sense of grounding, pulling him away from his ethereal daydreams and anchoring him back to reality to fully observe this absurd and unpredictable world.

He said nothing further to Cen Xiao, simply holding his phone steady while gazing out the window. He focused on the chaotic scene unfolding in the banquet hall across the street, breathing deeply to steady himself.

For the first time, Li Rong felt the true power of being reborn.

It was an indescribably formidable strength, enabling him to stand outside of events and overlook everyone involved. It was as though he was observing them from above, hidden in the shadows, watching the interplay of light and darkness within the illuminated banquet hall.

Cen Xiao, too, refrained from pressing him further. No one could fully empathize with what Li Rong was feeling at that moment. He needed to savor this initial taste of success and gather the courage to take the next steps toward achieving his goals.

***

The paper was published today, and the news began to ferment today—a series of events unfolding perfectly, like an intricately planned coincidence. But Li Rong knew such coincidences couldn’t be designed, and there were still many factors beyond their control.

It was a small gift from fate.

Li Baishou snapped back to reality and clumsily stooped to pick up the shattered champagne flute, as if he could gather the pieces of his broken dream.

He couldn’t stand the thought of losing his composure in front of the Blue Pivot guests. He needed to restore his dignity with a veneer of elegance before leaving the gathering gracefully.

But no matter how hard he tried, his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

Li Qingli had become a relentless shadow, an ever-present nightmare he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t fully grasp the significance of Li Qingli’s hypothesis. He had only heard Li Qingli mention it briefly, knowing it was the result of nearly three years of meticulous research to ensure its feasibility.

Yet, seeing the explosive reaction on RQ’s trending page, it was clear this was an extraordinary piece of work—a “stunning” breakthrough.

The word “stunning” alone was enough to send a wave of despair crashing over him.

Talent is a maddening yet unyielding force. Li Baishou wasn’t one of its chosen ones.

Li Qingli may be gone, but his achievements would keep his name alive.

Meanwhile, Li Baishou, despite all he had climbed and gained—fame, status, recognition—feared that, one day, when he was gone, no one would remember him.

He wasn’t young anymore.

In his distraction, Li Baishou’s hand was cut by a shard of glass, and beads of blood slowly seeped out.

A waiter hurried over with a cleaning cart. “Sir, please don’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it.”

Li Baishou froze mid-motion, realizing he had been crouching down to perform the task of a server.

Opposite him, Cen Qing stood impassively, silently observing his actions.

Feeling his cheeks burn, Li Baishou steadied himself with a hand on his knee and rose to his feet, forcing an awkward smile. “I’ve got something to attend to. I’ll be leaving now.”

Cen Qing felt no regret over Li Baishou’s departure. In fact, his own mind was under strain from the whirlwind of events, and he was eager for Li Baishou to leave so he wouldn’t have to explain Xiao Muran’s emotional outburst to anyone else.

Fortunately, the banquet hall was in complete chaos by now, and no one noticed Xiao Muran, who had her back turned to everyone, hastily dabbing at her ruined makeup.

Li Baishou scanned the disarrayed crowd, searching for Liu Tanshi.

Liu Tanshi had only been momentarily shaken. Now fully composed, she stood apart from the fray, calmly picking up a bacon sandwich from a small tray.

She chewed slowly, savoring the delicate, exquisite flavor, until Li Baishou found her and, in a fit of agitation, grabbed her arm. “Come home with me.”

Liu Tanzhi knew she and Li Baishou had to move in sync publicly, but his rough movement caused her sandwich to fall to the ground.

Lowering her head, Liu Tanzhi glanced at the half-eaten sandwich on the floor. A vein on her forehead twitched as she took a few seconds to suppress her anger.

A member of Hongsuo seized the opportunity to approach Li Baishou and asked, “Professor Li, did you see the news? What’s going on? When did Professor Li submit the paper….”

Li Baishou’s mind was a chaotic mess; he hadn’t yet pieced together the situation.

If the paper had been submitted before Li Qingli’s incident and only published afterward, the entire thing would seem absurd. Hongsuo Research Institute would become the laughingstock of the scientific community.

Because as long as Li Qingli’s hypothesis was deemed viable, their research would inevitably build upon it, achieving the outcomes Li Qingli had anticipated.

Li Qingli’s influence would ripple outward for years, perpetually extending into the future.

Li Baishou deflected, saying, “I have no idea about this either. Why don’t you ask Professor Jiang?”

At his suggestion, everyone turned their attention to Jiang Weide.

Jiang Weide’s complexion was slightly flushed, and a bit of sweat had gathered at his temples and forehead. 

He was visibly emotional but trying hard to suppress it while calming the restless crowd.

“Alright, alright. Now is not the time to discuss work, but please rest assured, we are aware of the situation,” Jiang Weide said, raising a hand in a placating gesture. The chaotic crowd quieted immediately.

Jiang Weide held a unique status within the Hongsuo Research Institute. If anyone in management knew the inside story, it would be him.

Since he had spoken with such certainty, it meant the situation was under control, and the institute was well-informed about the details. There was no need to worry.

Soft murmurs resumed within the crowd:

“So Professor Jiang knew about Professor Li’s submission? Did the director know too?”

“I think so. Professor Li wouldn’t have submitted anything behind the director’s back.”

“Then why keep it a secret from us? Even Professor Li doesn’t seem to know.”

“Who knows? Maybe it’s because of what happened in Professor Li’s family.”

“Honestly, I don’t think Professor Li was the kind of person some rumors suggest. Those stories are too…”

“Shh! Don’t speculate. What we think doesn’t matter anyway.”

The murmurs faded among the Hongsuo crowd, but over on Blue Pivot’s side, curiosity began to stir.

Jian Changli, chairperson of District One, stood near Jiang Weide. Unlike Hongsuo’s respectful attitude toward Jiang, he had no such regard. Hearing the discussion, he couldn’t resist interjecting, “I don’t know much about this scientific stuff, but does this mean you’ll be continuing research on… his paper?”

His casual remark instantly brought the atmosphere back to freezing point.

No one could figure out Hongsuo Research Institute’s position. If they planned to pursue Li Qingli’s work, would that also clear up the false accusations against him? Was the tide turning?

If not, shouldn’t they avoid touching anything related to him to prevent further trouble?

Jian Changli blinked, glanced around, adjusted his glasses, and chuckled. “Did I say something wrong? Ah, my big mouth! Forget what I said; everyone, carry on. Eat, drink, and pretend I didn’t ask.”

Having created a dilemma for Jiang Weide, he excused himself, arm in arm with his wife, heading toward the garden.

Cen Qing glanced at Jian Changli’s smug retreating figure and couldn’t help but shake his head.

Due to Cen Xiao and Jian Fu’s relationship, Cen Qing was somewhat close to Jian Changli. 

Moments like this highlighted the perks of knowing nothing—Jian Changli could always remain carefree, and for his own amusement, casually jab at others’ sore spots.

Li Baishou was about to drag Liu Tanzhi away but paused after hearing Jian Changli’s words.

He needed Jiang Weide to clarify. Li Baishou was utterly confused, unsure if he had been deceived by Jiang Weide. If Jiang Weide had indeed recovered Li Qingli’s hard drive and privately submitted his hypothesis, would that trap Li Baishou as well?

Liu Tanzhi finally lost patience. She pried apart Li Baishou’s coarse fingers, a flash of disgust crossing her eyes as her gaze flicked toward the corner of the room.

Han Jiang picked up a cup of Earl Grey tea, his expression calm as he took a sip, seemingly indifferent to Jiang Weide’s response.

Jiang Weide pulled out a tissue, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and retrieved his phone from his pocket.

A glance at the screen subtly changed his expression. His already flushed face deepened in color, and his freshly wiped forehead creased with a faint, almost imperceptible wrinkle.

Furrowing his brows, he tucked the phone away and spoke in a somber tone:

“I hope everyone understands that scientific achievements belong to all of humanity. They do not exist to vouch for the character of the researcher, just as a painter’s artwork or a musician’s composition acquires a meaning independent of its creator once it comes into being.

If it holds value and is worth exploring, we, as researchers, must persevere against criticism and press forward. Therefore, upon discovering the completed work of Professor Li, we deliberated extensively and ultimately decided to submit it in his name.

I ask for your understanding of the institute’s effort to shoulder this burden. Please, leave behind your doubts and speculations. I earnestly ask this of you.”

With that, Jiang Weide bowed deeply.

Thunderous applause erupted, reverberating through the hall. The dazzling crystal chandelier illuminated every corner of the banquet hall, leaving no shadows to hide.

“So that’s how it is. The director and Professor Jiang have truly gone through a lot.”

“I think so too. Li’s research is one thing; his personal life is another. The two shouldn’t be conflated.”

“Whatever else, I’ve always respected Li’s scientific abilities.”

“Professor Jiang made the right call. People shouldn’t be so black-and-white. If this research had been buried with Li, who knows how much time we’d waste on redundant studies?”

…..

No one noticed that Jiang Weide’s deeply bowed face was trembling uncontrollably. He clenched his jaw tightly, his bloodshot eyes reddened further from the strain of his posture. His hands were balled into fists, and beads of sweat trickled down his temples, landing heavily on the marble floor.

Through his phone, Li Rong heard Jiang Weide’s speech clearly.

Watching his once-kind and generous mentor, memories of past care and kindness flashed through Li Rong’s mind one by one. 

Jiang Weide had truly been good to him.

Unlike the other newly admitted researchers, who scrambled to curry favor with their professors by pouring tea or running errands, Li Rong never sought to ingratiate himself with anyone. 

Instead, it was Jiang Weide who reached out to him.

Jiang Weide had some health issues, and his wife forbade him from eating recklessly outside. She prepared nutritious breakfasts for him daily. 

Jiang Weide would often bring an extra portion for Li Rong, claiming it was too much for him to finish and asking for help.

Once or twice might have been coincidental, but every single time? It was clearly deliberate.

Jiang Weide had no idea that Li Rong was already having breakfast at Cen Xiao’s place. He assumed Li Rong lived alone, renting a small apartment with irregular meals.

Li Rong couldn’t help but let out a faint, mocking laugh. He had always thought of himself as clear-eyed and rational, but now he realized how blind and naive he had been.

In his previous life, he regarded Jiang Weide as a respected family figure while viewing Cen Xiao as an adversary to avoid.

Yet now, the one publicly lying was his beloved mentor, while the one unconditionally standing by his side was Cen Xiao, on the other end of the phone.

Who hasn’t been wrong about someone? Who hasn’t misunderstood?

Still, Jiang Weide’s statement had saved him a lot of trouble. 

Otherwise, if the matter escalated and someone traced it back to him, he wouldn’t even know how to explain the source of the paper.

Now, those unaware of the truth would undoubtedly feel fear. And fear is often the precursor to mistakes.

Li Rong picked up a piece of cold salmon and chewed on it lightly. Speaking with his mouth half-full, he said to Cen Xiao, “Bring two more cups of mulled wine. I feel like celebrating.”

Jiang Weide’s explanation was flawless. Standing firmly on the moral high ground, he left the United association with no grounds for objection.

However, most members of the association had nothing to do with this matter to begin with.

Cen Qing, indifferent to the truth of Jiang Weide’s words, noticed Xiao Muran wiping her reddened eyes, finally ceasing her sobbing but still looking lost.

Cen Qing shielded her with his body, hiding her moment of vulnerability, but couldn’t help glancing toward Cen Xiao.

Cen Xiao merely gave a disdainful look at the people enthusiastically applauding, then turned and walked out of the banquet hall without a backward glance.

Cen Qing suddenly felt a sense of unease, his nerves instinctively tightening. 

He didn’t know why Cen Xiao so clearly disbelieved Jiang Weide’s explanation, but he could tell from Cen Xiao’s demeanor that he knew far more than the rest of them.

Outside the Seven Stars Hotel, Cen Xiao stopped in his tracks at the sight of faint snow patches on the ground. He reached out, catching a snowflake in his palm, and said something seemingly irrelevant to Li Rong:

“You’ve never changed your profile picture. Every time I see snow, I think of you.”