The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 85

Li Rong glanced at the message and smirked.

The class placement results had just been released, and Zhang Zhaohe was already calling him in.

He had always suspected A University’s Biochemistry Department wasn’t as clean as it appeared. People like Liu Tanzhi, who seemed like nepotism beneficiaries, actually had far greater power, connections, and competence than Li Baishou.

So, was Zhang Zhaohe, who seemed content as a “tail-end carriage,” really as unambitious as he appeared?

Before heading out, Li Rong made a phone call to Cen Xiao.

Li Rong: “Zhang Zhaohe wants to see me. Not sure how long it’ll take, so will skip breakfast. Handle your own errands.”

The background noise on Cen Xiao’s end was lively, likely from an outdoor event by the Economics and Management Department.

Cen Xiao’s voice was steady. “Do you remember what I told you? Jiang Weide’s attitude towards Zhang Zhaohe is strange. Based on my experience… I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

He was drawing from his years of experience in the Blue Pivot District. The United Commerce Association’s internal workings were complex, with clear hierarchies and intricate relationships. Years of exposure had honed his ability to see through facades to the underlying reality.

Those who couldn’t develop this skill were destined to not last long.

He knew Li Rong understood.

Li Rong’s voice was calm. “Don’t worry.”

The Biochemistry Department occupied four floors in the Physics and Chemistry Building, close to the Science Library.

Most of the offices in the Physics and Chemistry Building are occupied by administrative staff, regular lecturers, class advisors, and department counselors. Professors of a higher rank typically have separate office buildings, with much better environments and more spacious layouts.

Naturally, Zhang Zhaohe didn’t qualify for an office in one of those exclusive buildings. His office was a ten-square-meter room on the third floor of the Physics and Chemistry Building, right next to the water room.

Perhaps because his superiors considered his age, they arranged for him to have a single-person office.

Li Rong walked into the familiar building, noting several professor profiles hanging on the walls. At the stairwell on the second floor, there was an empty spot where a professor’s profile used to be. It had yet to be replaced with a new one.

This must have been where Xu Wei’s profile once hung.

After Xu Wei resigned, he quickly disappeared from A University. Few people ever mentioned him again, and even information about him on the university’s official website had been scrubbed, as if he had never existed.

What kind of person could instill such fear in Xu Wei, to the point where he didn’t even struggle, opting instead to stay abroad and not dare to return?

For Xu Wei to make such a decision, he must have been certain that the other party’s influence couldn’t reach him overseas.

Li Rong had not contacted Xu Wei lightly, fearing it might alert his enemies.

The Physics and Chemistry Building at A University had a history spanning several decades. Its outdated architectural structure made the corridors particularly dark and damp. Despite multiple renovations over the years, the wear of time was unmistakable.

Li Rong stood at the door of Zhang Zhaohe’s office and knocked.

After a moment, a slightly weathered voice responded from inside, “Come in.”

Li Rong opened the door and walked in, just as Zhang Zhaohe looked up from his desk.

Zhang Zhaohe looked just as he had at the funeral, dressed in a simple, plain Zhongshan suit. A fountain pen rested in the pocket over his chest. It was hard to tell how many times he had worn this outfit, as the collar was already slightly shrunken, though it was neatly pressed.

His eyes were still bright, set in a gaunt face that naturally drew attention.

When he smiled, the wrinkles on his face deepened, and the red birthmark above his brow wrinkled along with them.

In this day and age, few persisted in wearing retro Zhongshan suits, carrying fountain pens, and walking with a brown-black cane, despite not being lame. It was no wonder that no one wanted to join his class.

He seemed like an eccentric old man, possibly with some obscure religious beliefs.

However, Zhang Zhaohe was also very kind—or, more accurately, completely devoid of temper, allowing himself to be bullied.

Students who skipped class, plagiarized, or were addicted to gaming weren’t afraid of him. They even dared to add absent classmates’ names to the attendance sheet in front of him.

Zhang Zhaohe would only sigh repeatedly and say, “This isn’t right; don’t do it again next time.”

Beyond that, he implemented no punishments.

His office was small, with a desk, a large bookshelf, a two-seater sofa, and an air conditioner.

He didn’t even have a personal water dispenser and had to share a water room with students.

Yet, despite the small space, it was kept extraordinarily tidy.

The two-seater sofa had cushions, but the edges revealed a leather surface almost devoid of creases, as if it was rarely used. It seemed to be there purely for decoration. Even the gap behind the sofa cushions lacked the typical household dust.

Zhang Zhaohe’s desk, a brown one, had a computer on top. Around it, there wasn’t a single stack of papers or file folders. The desk was spotlessly clean, polished to a shine under the sunlight streaming through the window.

Li Rong had been in many professors’ offices, including those of renowned scientists. Without exception, their desks were covered in piles of documents and materials—a natural state for busy work.

Li Rong’s gaze turned to the imposing bookshelf in the room.

The shelves were neatly stacked with various essential readings: history, humanities, natural sciences…

These were thick tomes, often over a thousand pages, with bold, gold-lettered titles. They were almost unreadable, seemingly more for show than practical use.

That said, it wasn’t impossible that Zhang Zhaohe genuinely enjoyed such hefty books.

The only redeeming feature of this office was the large window.

Facing the sun, the interior was well-lit. Two lush pothos plants adorned the windowsill, their roots robust and thriving. Remarkably, the plants were trimmed almost identically and placed symmetrically, as if mirroring each other.

It seemed Zhang Zhaohe had an unusual obsessive-compulsive tendency.

He kept his space impeccably clean and organized, down to the symmetry of his plants—completely at odds with his seemingly apathetic and passive demeanor.

Someone so meticulous about his environment couldn’t possibly be indifferent to the chaos in his class—unless he didn’t consider the class or the students part of his domain.

Beneath his accommodating and gentle surface laid a profound indifference and disdain.

Leaning forward with his arms resting on the desk, Zhang Zhaohe smiled warmly at Li Rong and nodded. “Hello. We’ve met before.”

Li Rong withdrew his gaze from the pothos and met Zhang Zhaohe’s smile. “Yes, at my parents’ funeral.”

Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped himself onto the sofa, draping one arm over the armrest and leaning heavily into the backrest.

The leather sofa immediately sank under his weight, disrupting its previously pristine state.

Li Rong could sense Zhang Zhaohe’s fingers tightening and his gaze shifting to the now unbalanced sofa.

Knowing how much it bothered him, Li Rong had done it on purpose.

Yet, Zhang Zhaohe remained composed, smiling gently. “I heard from your father that you excel academically. And now you’ve been admitted on recommendation—I never expected you to join my class.”

Li Rong sighed lightly, his brows furrowing. “Everyone who makes it into A University is a good student. I guess I got overconfident.”

He sounded genuinely regretful.

Zhang Zhaohe silently observed him for a few seconds.

Li Rong possessed a uniquely captivating appearance—delicate and strikingly beautiful, with expressive and lively features. His eyebrows and eyes exuded a natural charisma, capable of conveying any emotion their owner wished to express.

Feelings like regret, loss, innocence, and mischief, when displayed on that face, had an innate ability to lower people’s guard.

Unconsciously, Zhang Zhaohe reached up to touch the pen clipped to his chest. Afterward, he slowly stood up and said kindly, “Please wait here for a moment; I’ll go get some hot water.”

As he spoke, he picked up his cup and grabbed the cane leaning against the edge of his desk. With measured steps, he left the office.

The door was left ajar, and through the echoes in the hallway, it was clear that Zhang Zhaohe was walking farther and farther away.

Li Rong, however, didn’t sit still.

The moment Zhang Zhaohe left, Li Rong got up from the sofa, ensuring he was truly off fetching water. He quickly walked over to Zhang Zhaohe’s desk.

Just as he was about to open a drawer to check, he noticed the bottom drawer wasn’t fully closed.

Through the small gap, he could see a stack of documents inside.

Though the content of the documents was unclear, the logo at the top of the papers stood out sharply.

It was a golden conical tower.

The tower had seven tiers, narrowing upward layer by layer. The base was solid, the tip sharp, and a distinctive spire with ornamental rings adorned the top.

Having studied at A University for four years and worked in Hongsuo for two, Li Rong had never encountered this golden tower emblem.