The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 71

—-If I see him again, I’ll recognize him.

The department head’s words carried like an imperceptible breeze, slipping through barriers and weaving through crowded spaces. It reached cracks in old walls and spread throughout A University.

The tighter the grip of control, the stronger the curiosity it incited.

Through whispers and friends, fragments of the story spread, each person filling in the blanks with half-accurate guesses.

By the time the story passed through several retellings, it had completely diverged from the truth.

A month later, rumors circulated that an associate professor A University had sent abroad for a scholar exchange program hadn’t returned with the group.

The professor, reportedly inspired by the academic atmosphere of the host institution, decided to remain there for theoretical research, no longer responsible for teaching at A University.

The associate professor’s name was Xu Wei. He had joined A University’s biochemistry department a year ago after previously teaching at a university in a southern province. Xu Wei had once attended a lecture by Li Qingli, met him at a dinner, and later used Li’s recommendation letter to secure his position at A University.

Xu Wei’s photograph still hung in the biochemistry building on the second floor. In the photo, he appeared plump, with a kind smile. His temples showed some gray hair, and his slightly sagging eyelids revealed small irises, lending him a gentle, harmless look.

When Li Rong showed Xu Wei’s photograph to Huang Baikang, Huang Baikang squinted at it for a long time before smacking his lips. “I can’t say for sure. Looks similar, but I’m not certain.”

Li Rong hadn’t expected much from Huang Baikang. After tearing the photo in half, he casually said, “This matter is over. No one will look for you again.”

Huang Baikang pulled out a scratched, peeling metal chair, sat with his legs crossed, and sniffed. “Got it.”

He didn’t know the full scope of the grudges or schemes involved, but he could tell that Xu Wei, along with some arrogant old scholars, had been played by the high school student standing before him.

Huang Baikang clicked his tongue and couldn’t help but remark, “You’re interesting. A high schooler like you, how’d you get so capable?”

Li Qingli, Gu Nong, Lu Yinxu, Nongan Medical Equipment Company, and the Hongsuo Research Institute—terms Huang Baikang would normally never encounter—were things he had now thoroughly researched.

He had first heard of the sensational incident in July during his time in detention, when the inmates were shown the news together.

The conditions in detention were abysmal. Restless and irritable most of the time, the rare opportunity to discuss a major event had everyone chattering.

Some cursed Li Qingli for selling fake drugs, while others claimed the Hongsuo Research Institute was just as corrupt, despite its polished exterior.

Huang Baikang had found it ironic. Even locked up, people still had the energy to insult others.

He couldn’t care less about how much wealth others had or how many people they had exploited; none of that mattered to him.

He had landed himself in trouble this time, but he’d try not to be as unlucky next time. Life muddled along in a haze, neither clear nor bright.

However, he had met Li Rong twice. Both times, he saw sides of Li Rong that no one else had. Suddenly, he found himself intrigued by this family.

If he had ever fallen from the heights, been scorned by everyone, and lost everything overnight, he would have found a crooked tree and hung himself with a belt long ago.

When everything is gone, what’s the point of living?

But Li Rong wasn’t like that.

He had heard that Li Rong had survived carbon monoxide poisoning while his parents perished. Their home had been emptied out, online abuse had gone on for at least a month, and even the windows of their house had been smashed.

He couldn’t fathom how Li Rong managed to have such a strong will to live, how he could still think, plan, and scheme.

How could he not sink into despair, even a little?

Such a life, though tempered and scarred, was vibrant, vivid, and utterly unique.

Just being near such a life felt like being ignited by its fiery energy, making one unwilling to drift through life aimlessly.

Li Rong looked down at Huang Baikang, seated in a chair. He glanced at Huang’s filthy, loose tank top, which hadn’t been changed in ages, and then at his fierce, defiant eyes.

This man had no connection to Li Rong’s former world.

They were like parallel lines in different dimensions, destined never to intersect, not even to exchange a word.

Li Rong was silent for a moment before finally curving his lips into a slight smile and softly asking, “If I said my parents were innocent and falsely accused, would you believe me?”

“Of course,” Huang Baikang answered without hesitation, straightforwardly, frankly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Li Rong was momentarily stunned, as if he couldn’t believe such a response could come so easily from Huang Baikang’s mouth. At the very least, he thought Huang Baikang should offer a reason or explain his conviction.

Li Rong didn’t dare accept such unconditional trust. He felt this kind of response should be the reward for enduring countless hardships.

For the first time, Huang Baikang saw a hint of youthful confusion on Li Rong’s face. He wasn’t as frighteningly intense as their first meeting, nor as calculated and composed as their second.

Huang Baikang couldn’t help but grin, revealing a row of yellowed teeth, and chuckled.

“It’s nothing. I just think you’re more agreeable than that director or whatever. If you say you’re innocent, I’ll believe you.”

Li Rong couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, well, thank you, then.”

Huang Baikang casually adjusted his collar, took a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag before propping up his legs with satisfaction. “No need to thank me. If you ever need anything, just pay me, and I’ll do it.”

Li Rong wasn’t sure if he’d ever need Huang Baikang’s help, but this man had indeed shown him another face of the world.

In this world, there was groundless hatred, but there could also be unsubstantiated trust.

It wasn’t logic that governed the world but emotions.

Were the rumors spread by Liu Tanzhi’s media accounts so meticulously constructed and flawless?

Not at all.

In fact, some were quite clumsy. With a little calm or a few extra seconds of research, one could see that the rumors were cobbled together nonsense.

For instance, the so-called museum’s prized car could easily be identified online, and countless related blogs and travel notes confirmed it wasn’t his father’s car.

The museum, while charging a high admission fee, had seen hundreds of thousands of visitors yearly over the decades, meaning millions must have recognized that car.

Did they not know the rumor was false?

They did.

But many chose not to speak up or stand for justice because of past incidents involving Luyinxu and Li Qingli.

When Luyinxu failed its first clinical trial and caused deaths, people’s hopes were shattered, and their anger extended to Li Qingli and Gu Nong.

This sentiment made people reluctant to see the truth or acknowledge it when it was right in front of them.

Truth didn’t matter; venting did.

The self-righteous indignation of those driven by passion led them to trample on those who angered them.

Others, swayed by the fervor, adopted a stance of rejection and refused to speak the truth, watching events unfold coldly until his parents met their deaths one night.

Death ended the tragedy and quenched much of the hatred. When Li Qingli’s hypothesis was later published and caused a sensation, some people came forward to praise and defend him.

These people didn’t know the full truth either but were won over by the hypothesis, which earned their goodwill and belief.

Human bias is impossible to fully control with reason. Even the most knowledgeable and experienced individuals are not immune.

Emotion steers behavior far more than logic ever can.

When Li Rong left Huang Baikang’s house, he got into Cen Xiao’s car.

Cen Xiao was about to start the car when he noticed Li Rong staring blankly ahead, not even fastening his seatbelt.

He reached out to help pull the seatbelt across, but before his fingers touched it, Li Rong suddenly leaned against his arm with an air of self-assuredness.

Li Rong had finally gained a bit of weight recently. His body no longer looked pitifully thin, and even his cheeks had filled out a little.

He pressed his ear against Cen Xiao’s shoulder, his cheek squished by the curve of Cen Xiao’s arm muscles. The soft strands of his hair slid downward under gravity, with a few locks brushing against Cen Xiao’s collar, tickling his skin slightly.

At this close distance, with this level of intimacy, he ought to have pinned Li Rong against the car seat and indulged himself for a moment.

But the thought flashed by and was immediately suppressed as Cen Xiao clenched his fists, forcing the impulse down.

Cen Xiao: “Huang Baikang couldn’t recognize him either?”

Li Rong, murmuring: “Whether he recognized him or not, the first person to sneak into my house during the chaos and tear away my father’s manuscript must have been Xu Wei. He’s proficient in biochemical knowledge but was new to A University at the time and unfamiliar with my family. Choosing him to retrieve and destroy the manuscript was a smart move. Now that things have been exposed, he likely caught wind of it overseas, and that’s why he doesn’t dare return, even giving up his position at A University altogether.

“He doesn’t fear me; he fears the person who ordered him to do this.”

Li Rong paused, sighed lightly, and continued, “Xu Wei must’ve struggled internally. On the one hand, he knew he needed to erase all traces. On the other… he couldn’t let go of the kindness my father showed him. He probably felt more attached to my father’s manuscript than I ever could. That’s why he only tore out the most critical part, leaving the rest behind, perhaps as a token for me.

“He understood my father’s habits. Maybe one day, something would jog his memory, leaving behind a clue. That’s why he took the risk to clean up the mess himself.

This mess, he wouldn’t dare report to his superiors. He thought he could handle it flawlessly, never expecting to leave behind hidden risks.

Actually, my father was a very… well, it’s hard to describe him. He had a habit of supporting talented people passionate about academics in the field. He must’ve written dozens of recommendation letters in his life. Xu Wei wasn’t special. My father never even mentioned his name to me or my mother.

But Xu Wei never forgot.

I wonder if, in the dead of night, he’s ever been haunted by guilt.”