Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 28

Day 28 of Transmigration

The night was deep, and all sounds were hushed, save for the occasional chirping of unknown insects in the Jujutsu High mountain forests. The moonlight was obscured by thick clouds, only sparingly casting a few slivers of pale light through the gaps, outlining the vague silhouette of the dormitory.

The door hinge let out an extremely faint creak, and a tall figure, carrying the chill of night dew and a faint scent of gunpowder, silently slipped into the room. Gojo Satoru removed his jacket, which was tainted with the outside air, and casually tossed it over the chair back, his movements light, afraid of disturbing anything.

He walked to the bed and, using the weak light from outside the window, looked at the figure curled up in deep sleep. When Xue Yang slept, he habitually bundled himself up, like a small beast lacking security. Only after Gojo Satoru lay down would Xue Yang unconsciously lean over, seeking warmth.

Gojo Satoru lifted a corner of the blanket and slid in, bringing with him a lingering coolness. Almost instantly, the sleeping youth beside him seemed to sense something, unconsciously furrowed his brow, let out a vague murmur, and then, as if drawn by a magnet, naturally rolled over and skillfully burrowed into Gojo Satoru’s embrace, resting his forehead against his chest. He even rubbed against him contentedly, and after finding the most comfortable position, his breathing became even and long once more.

The process was so smooth it seemed rehearsed a thousand times.

Gojo Satoru’s body was momentarily stiff, then slowly relaxed. He cautiously adjusted his posture, wrapping his arm around Xue Yang’s slender back, holding him tighter and more securely in his arms. The youth’s warm body temperature transmitted through the thin pajamas, dispelling the last trace of coldness Gojo Satoru had brought back from the outside world.

He lowered his head, using the extremely faint moonlight that seeped through the gap in the curtains, to gaze at the sleeping face of the person in his arms.

The amber eyes that were always flashing with vigilance, mockery, or impatience during the day were now quietly closed. Long, thick eyelashes cast a small, soft shadow beneath his eyelids. Below the upturned nose was a well-shaped, pale-colored mouth, slightly parted, releasing warm, steady breaths. The face that usually wore an arrogant or malicious smile now held only complete relaxation and tranquility, even revealing a kind of almost fragile innocence, completely contrary to his usual demeanor.

Gojo Satoru’s heartbeat, in the dead of this quiet night, suddenly became exceptionally clear.

He looked at Xue Yang curled up defenselessly in his arms, like a cat that had finally retracted all its claws and fangs, confidently exposing its softest belly. This feeling was strange, carrying a heavy, heart-warming sense of satisfaction.

When did it start?

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but trace back in his mind.

Was it from the first time he saw this blood-stained youth with surprisingly bright eyes beside the unfamiliar spatial rift? Or was it when he tentatively and provocatively offered him a blood-stained piece of candy? Was it when he awkwardly accepted the new clothes and phone Gojo Satoru gave him? Or was it when he ate the strange-tasting “desserts” Gojo Satoru made, complaining all the while, until they were completely gone?

Was it when he fought Gojo Satoru on the training ground with a reckless ferocity? Or was it when he, despite his impatience, was dragged by Itadori and the others to participate in various group activities? Was it when he awkwardly made a wish under the New Year fireworks? Or was it when he solemnly handed over Calamity, representing the past, and then carefully grasped the new sword that represented “hope”?

There seemed to be no clear time marker. Like fine snow silently covering the earth, like vines quietly climbing a wall, by the time he realized it, this youth named Xue Yang had invaded his life with a fierce and undeniable presence, occupying the most important position by his side.

He had grown accustomed to seeing Xue Yang every day, accustomed to his mocking yet accurate critiques, accustomed to his relentless drive during training, accustomed to the slight brightening of his eyes when he ate his favorite sweets, accustomed to the warmth of his body clinging to him like an octopus in the middle of the night, and even accustomed to his unique scent, a mixture of the bitter cleanness of herbs and a faint, almost imperceptible hint of blood.

He enjoyed the process of taming this little wild beast, enjoying watching him slowly drop his guard, slowly adapt to the light, and slowly… learn to rely on him.

But was that all there was to it?

Gojo Satoru asked himself. If it were merely the concern and guidance of a teacher for a student, a strong person for a weaker one, why did his heart beat so erratically now, looking at Xue Yang’s peaceful sleeping face and feeling his utterly dependent closeness? Why was there an urge to knead him into his very bones, to protect him fiercely, preventing anyone or anything from harming him even slightly? Why did the mere thought of him leaving, or being hurt, cause a strange, sharp panic in his chest?

These were not the emotions one should feel towards an “interesting student” or a “junior who needs care.”

This was a more private, more possessive, more… greedy emotion.

It was love.

This realization was like a sudden flash of lightning across the night sky, clearly illuminating the deep recesses of Gojo Satoru’s heart, a territory he himself had never closely explored.

He, Gojo Satoru, the strongest in the Jujutsu world, accustomed to standing at the peak and looking down upon all beings, accustomed to acting as he pleased and treating life as a game, had unknowingly fallen in love with this little bastard—a prickly, ill-tempered, yet incredibly real and vibrant person from another world.

It wasn’t the fondness for a toy, nor the care for a student, but the kind of love a man feels for his beloved, filled with possessiveness, protectiveness, and infinite tenderness.

This discovery left Gojo Satoru stunned for a moment. Then, an indescribable feeling, mixed with surprise, helplessness, and mostly a sense of “of course,” washed over him. Yes, if it wasn’t love, why would he allow someone to intervene so deeply in his life? If it wasn’t love, why would he be so patient, so indulgent with one person? If it wasn’t love, how could his entire emotional state be swayed by one subtle movement, one look from the other person?

He lowered his head, looking at Xue Yang’s face so close to his own. The moonlight occasionally brushed his fair skin, like fine porcelain. The youth’s breath softly tickled his neck, causing a slight itch, yet bringing him immense peace of mind.

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but tighten his arms, holding the person in his embrace even closer. Xue Yang seemed to feel a slight discomfort in his sleep, mumbled something vaguely, but didn’t wake up. Instead, he pressed closer to the source of warmth, his arm unconsciously draping over Gojo Satoru’s waist.

This small gesture of reliance, like a feather, gently scratched at Gojo Satoru’s heart. The love that had just broken ground, like a vine meeting sweet rain, began to wildly grow and spread.

What should he do?

Tell Xue Yang? That little bastard who was probably even more oblivious to matters of the heart than himself, who might have never even considered such things? Gojo Satoru could almost picture the expression Xue Yang would likely make upon hearing a confession—first confusion, then mockery, and finally he would probably sneer and say, “Did your brain finally get pickled by sweets?”

Or, maintain the current relationship, which was ostensibly master and disciple but had long since crossed boundaries, enjoying this unique closeness, slowly boiling the frog, and waiting for this little wild beast to figure things out on his own?

The corner of Gojo Satoru’s mouth couldn’t help but curve into an arc of indulgence and calculation. The latter seemed… more interesting, and more in line with his style.

He wasn’t in a hurry. He had all the time and patience in the world. He had already successfully made Xue Yang accustomed to his presence, accustomed to his touch, accustomed to his kindness. Therefore, making Xue Yang accustomed to his love, until he could no longer leave him, seemed only a matter of time.

In any case, this person, he would absolutely never let go.

The clouds outside seemed to have dispersed slightly, allowing more moonlight to stream in, gently enveloping the two figures sleeping in an embrace. Gojo Satoru looked at Xue Yang’s sleeping face, which appeared even more serene and soft in the moonlight. The coldness and killing intent that lingered from his mission were completely replaced by an unprecedented, soft and fulfilling emotion.

He gently lowered his head, and an extremely light, cherished kiss, like a feather touching water, landed on Xue Yang’s smooth forehead.

“Good night, my little bastard,” he whispered in a breathy voice only he could hear, filled with endless affection. “Sweet dreams.”

The youth in his arms seemed to hear this silent blessing. The corner of his mouth unconsciously curved into a small smile, and he slept even more soundly.

Gojo Satoru closed his eyes contentedly, resting his chin on Xue Yang’s soft hair, feeling the real warmth and weight in his arms.

The feeling of love, like a night-blooming jasmine, quietly blossomed in the unseen depths of the night, its fragrance filling his entire heart. And the future, because of this quietly growing emotion, seemed even more worth looking forward to.