Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 29

Day 29 of Transmigration

Since that late night when he realized his feelings, the way Gojo Satoru looked at Xue Yang held a deeper level of focus and tenderness, something even he hadn’t fully acknowledged. The outer layer of “teacher” and “guardian” remained, but underneath, a more private and fervent emotion was quietly brewing.

His “kindness” escalated, reaching an almost outrageous degree.

During special training, he spent more time near Xue Yang. In the pauses between instruction, his gaze would unconsciously fall on the boy’s slightly furrowed brow—a sign of concentration—on the strands of hair damp with sweat on his forehead, and on the smooth, powerful lines of his arm as he swung Calamity. That look was no longer the cool, purely analytical assessment of teaching results; it was mixed with admiration, pride, and a hint of hidden possessiveness.

“Lower your wrist by three points, the angle is wrong,” Gojo Satoru’s voice sounded close to his ear, carrying a warm breath. He didn’t just give verbal instructions as usual; he stepped forward, adopting a posture that was almost an embrace from behind, gripping Xue Yang’s sword-holding wrist to personally adjust the angle.

Xue Yang’s body stiffened instantly. Although this kind of overly intimate contact had happened before, for some reason, today felt distinctly different. Gojo Satoru’s chest pressed against his back, his body heat transferring through the thin training uniform, an overwhelmingly strong presence. He could even smell Gojo Satoru’s unique scent—a mix of sweets and faint cedar—which now seemed to carry a certain aggression.

“Let go, I can do it myself.” Xue Yang tried to pull away, his earlobes uncontrollably flushing hot.

Gojo Satoru obligingly released his grip and stepped back. The eyes behind his sunglasses curved into a smile, yet his tone was serious: “Oh my, are you shy? Your teacher is giving serious instruction, you know.”

Xue Yang glared at him, not replying, and turned back to continue practicing. However, his sword swings seemed a few degrees more forceful than before, as if trying to cleave away the inexplicable restlessness in his heart.

Gojo Satoru watched his reddened ear tips and slightly hurried movements, the smile at the corner of his mouth deepening. Hmm, a very cute reaction.

The act of feeding him sweets also upgraded. Gojo Satoru was no longer satisfied with simply buying them and handing them to Xue Yang. He became enthusiastic about searching for dessert shops that required long advance reservations or were hidden deep in small alleys, then personally taking Xue Yang on “exploration trips.” The excuse was “expanding the palate and experiencing different cultures,” but in reality, he enjoyed the process of going out alone with Xue Yang, like… a date.

He would observe Xue Yang’s subtle facial expressions while tasting different desserts, guessing his preferences, and then specifically ordering what he might like next time. He would deliberately scoop up what he thought was the best bite and offer it to Xue Yang’s mouth, watching the boy first frown in distaste, then open his mouth to eat it, before offering a casual assessment of “it’s alright.”

This kind of slightly forceful yet utterly natural intimacy brought Gojo Satoru great pleasure. He was slowly testing Xue Yang’s boundaries, while also deeply imprinting his own presence and preferences into Xue Yang’s life.

During the nighttime “body pillow” sessions, Gojo Satoru also became… more “clingy.” He no longer just held him; he would unconsciously bury his face in Xue Yang’s neck, inhaling the clean scent of the boy mixed with a faint bitterness of herbs. His arms would tighten fiercely, as if afraid the person would run away in their sleep. Sometimes, he would wake up in the middle of the night and, using the faint light from the window, quietly watch Xue Yang’s sleeping face for a long time. The soil in his heart, labeled “like,” would grow richer with every passing moment.

Xue Yang was not oblivious.

He wasn’t stupid; he could feel all of Gojo Satoru’s subtle changes. That overly focused gaze, the frequent, seemingly unintentional physical contact, and the airtight “kindness” that enveloped nearly every aspect of his life—all made him feel vaguely… wrong.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. He just felt that Gojo Satoru’s eyes sometimes didn’t look at him like a student, but rather like… some kind of possession? Or, even stranger, carrying a kind of scalding yet soft emotion he couldn’t understand, which made his heart flutter and, inexplicably… made his face warm.

Especially at night, Gojo Satoru held him tighter than before, and the feeling of his breath on his neck was particularly clear. Sometimes, he could even feel the man’s overly powerful heartbeat, pounding like a drum, making his eardrums itch and driving away all sleepiness.

“Hey, you’re holding too tight, it’s hot.” One night, Xue Yang finally couldn’t stand it and forcefully pushed the person behind him.

Instead of loosening his grip, Gojo Satoru tightened it further, rubbing his chin against the top of Xue Yang’s head. His voice was husky with sleep, whining playfully: “No way, this is the only comfortable way to sleep… Xue Yang brand body pillow, custom-made exclusive.”

The intimacy and dependence in that tone left Xue Yang speechless, and his struggling movements slowed. He let out an irritated “Tch,” but ultimately compromised, relaxing his body and allowing the other person to cling to him like a large koala.

Forget it, why bother arguing with this bastard. He closed his eyes, trying hard to ignore the body heat and heartbeat coming from behind, forcing himself to sleep. But subconsciously, that feeling of being needed and held tightly didn’t seem to bother him.

The others at Jujutsu High also vaguely sensed something.

“Hey, do you guys think Gojo-sensei has been… a little too nice to Xue Yang lately?” Kugisaki Nobara whispered to Itadori and Fushiguro during a training break one day.

Itadori was oblivious: “Has he? Gojo-sensei has always been nice to Xue Yang, hasn’t he? He’s generous when treating us to sweets too!”

Fushiguro Megumi wiped his sweat, glancing at Xue Yang, who was being personally “instructed” in swordsmanship by Gojo Satoru nearby, looking impatient but not directly fighting back. Fushiguro said flatly, “The degree is different.”

Maki walked over, carrying her naginata. Hearing this, she also took a look and raised an eyebrow: “Has Gojo finally started acting like a non-human?” Her tone held a knowing realization and a trace of subtle… pity (for Xue Yang).

Panda shuffled closer, his furry face full of curiosity: “What is it? What’s wrong with Gojo-sensei?”

Inumaki Toge: “Salmon roe?” (What’s going on?)

Kugisaki lowered her voice: “It’s just… I feel like the way Gojo-sensei looks at Xue Yang is sickeningly sweet! Like the way the male lead looks at the female lead in a romance drama!”

Everyone: “…” That analogy was a bit startling, but upon closer thought, it seemed… somewhat accurate?

Itadori suddenly understood: “Ah! So that’s what it is! I knew something felt weird!”

Fushiguro Megumi rubbed his forehead, deciding it was best to end the topic there.

Xue Yang could vaguely hear the whispering nearby. Although he couldn’t make out the specifics, the probing and ambiguously amused glances directed at him made him feel completely uncomfortable. He abruptly shook off Gojo Satoru’s hand, which was still resting on his wrist, his tone nasty: “Enough! I’ll practice by myself!”

Gojo Satoru wasn’t angry. He retracted his hand with a grin, but his gaze remained fixed on Xue Yang, watching his cheeks flush slightly from embarrassment and annoyance (and perhaps something else). He felt more satisfied than if he had eaten ten servings of special-grade dessert.

Was his little wild beast starting to feel his “hunt”?

Gojo Satoru was in no hurry to make things explicit. He enjoyed this process of boiling the frog slowly, enjoying watching Xue Yang progress from ignorant, to vaguely aware, and finally to the point of being unable to escape. He had all the time and patience in the world to lay a perfect trap, ensuring this defiant little beast would willingly fall into his embrace.

In any case, Xue Yang was already his caged bird, his possession, even if the boy hadn’t realized it yet.

Gojo Satoru adjusted his sunglasses, concealing the determined smile in his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the training room window, enveloping his tall figure and Xue Yang’s slender one together, as if they were inseparable.

He was thoroughly enjoying this game, which was labeled “taming” but had long since warped into something else. And Xue Yang, without realizing it, had already become the most crucial and only prize in the game.