Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 58

Xue Yang’s assigned missions were scattered across Japan, ranging from the snowy plains of Hokkaido to the hot spring towns of Kyushu, and varying in grade from three to one. He traveled almost non-stop, relying on efficient exorcism methods and a deliberately accelerated pace, attempting to use exhaustion and distance to numb himself and temporarily escape his demanding fiancé.

Two days later, he had just finished a mission in the Shikoku region, dealing with vengeful spirits gathered beneath an ancient bridge. The task wasn’t difficult, but the continuous travel and intentional exertion had left a trace of weariness between his brows. He dragged his slightly heavy steps back to the hot spring inn he had reserved in advance, located at the foot of a secluded mountain.

Pushing open the sliding shoji door, the anticipated quiet, empty room did not materialize. Instead, the air was filled with a scent he knew down to his bones—a mixture of high-end sweets and cedarwood.

Xue Yang’s body instantly froze, his pupils contracting slightly. The white-haired man who should have been miles away in Tokyo handling official duties was now leisurely kneeling by the low table in the center of the room. On the table sat a flask of sake and two delicate plates of wagashi. Gojo Satoru was wearing a loose, dark blue yukata with the collar slightly open. His sunglasses were pushed up onto his forehead, and his pale blue eyes, filled with a playful smile, were fixed on Xue Yang, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

“You’re back?” Gojo Satoru’s voice held a lazy, magnetic quality, like a hunter waiting for prey to walk into the trap.

Xue Yang’s first instinct was to turn and leave! He didn’t even have time to consider how this guy had accurately located the place and gotten in beforehand; his body’s instinct had already made the decision before his brain—run!

However, the moment his foot moved, an irresistible force struck from behind! Gojo Satoru’s speed was beyond the limit of visual capture. Xue Yang only felt a tightening around his waist, and he was lifted by a great force. In a dizzying moment, he was firmly pressed down onto the soft sofa chair inside the room!

Gojo Satoru leaned over, trapping him between the sofa and his own chest. Warm breath fanned his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Why run?” Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his fingertip lightly tracing Xue Yang’s cheek, which was slightly flushed from surprise and faint anger. “After a week apart, is your fiancé really that unwelcome?”

Xue Yang struggled fiercely, using his elbows and knees, trying to break free from the suffocating restraint. But he had already expended a good deal of stamina, and under Gojo Satoru’s absolute physical suppression, all resistance was like a stone sinking into the sea—futile.

“Let go! Gojo Satoru!” Xue Yang gritted his teeth, his amber eyes burning with fury.

“No.” Gojo Satoru’s reply was crisp and decisive. He even pressed his advantage, lowering his head to take a deep breath near Xue Yang’s neck, sighing contentedly. “Mmm… you picked up a bit of dust from the outside, but my Xue Yang still smells the best.”

The struggle was fruitless, and his stamina was nearing exhaustion. Xue Yang gasped for breath, glaring fiercely at the handsome, smug face above him. Finally, as if resigning himself to fate, he let the tension drain from his body and slumped into the sofa. He closed his eyes, too weary to look at the persistent man, and squeezed out a few words through his teeth: “…Bastard.”

Seeing the person in his arms give up resistance, the smile on Gojo Satoru’s face grew brighter. He scooped Xue Yang up in a bridal carry and walked toward the room’s private open-air hot spring bath.

“You’re covered in sweat and the stench of Cursed Spirits. Let’s get you cleaned up first.” Gojo Satoru’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were merely a thoughtful parent coming to pick up a tired child.

The hot spring bath was filled with steam, carrying the scent of sulfur. Gojo Satoru patiently (or rather, with ulterior motives) helped Xue Yang shed his clothes, then carried him as they both slid into the warm spring water.

The water enveloping his fatigued body did bring a sense of relief. But Gojo Satoru’s hands were clearly not content with simple washing. Calloused fingertips traced Xue Yang’s firm back and waistline, igniting small bursts of fire on the delicate skin.

Xue Yang initially kept his body tense, trying to ignore the mischievous hands. But under the steam of the hot spring and the perfectly timed massage, the fatigue accumulated over the past few days surged forward, and his guard involuntarily relaxed.

Gojo Satoru keenly sensed the softening of his body, chuckling as he leaned in and kissed his lips, gradually steering the bath in another direction. The water rippled, and gasps mixed with the sound of flowing water echoed in the enclosed space. Xue Yang was pressed against the pool wall, the warm water covering his chest. His consciousness blurred under the impact of passion, leaving him only able to weakly cling to the man in front of him, allowing the other party to have his way.

By the time Gojo Satoru wrapped him in a towel and carried him out of the bathroom, Xue Yang didn’t even have the strength to lift a finger. The corners of his eyes were flushed red, and his gaze was shimmering with the languor and haziness of someone who had been thoroughly loved.

Gojo Satoru gently placed him on the bed covered with soft tatami mats, then followed, covering him. He gazed at the rare sight of the person beneath him being docile (mainly because he lacked the strength to resist), his eyes darkening. He lowered his head and kissed the ring on Xue Yang’s ring finger.

“I’ve already had Ijichi arrange for someone else to handle the rest of your missions,” Gojo Satoru’s voice was hoarse and satisfied after the fact. “You will stay here for this week and ‘rest’ properly.”

Xue Yang didn’t even have the energy to glare at him, only giving a muffled hum in response.

Gojo Satoru chuckled, saying nothing more, and began a new round of “in-depth communication.” The night was still long, and for the runaway kitten he had finally “captured” and brought home, he naturally intended to “discipline” him thoroughly until he could no longer entertain the thought of escaping.

Far away at Jujutsu High in Tokyo, Principal Yaga looked at the mission list that the assistant manager had reallocated, and the concise message Gojo Satoru had sent: “I’ve taken over Xue Yang’s missions; he has other arrangements.” He could only shake his head helplessly.

It seemed that the “peaceful” lives of those two would remain “turbulent and magnificent” for quite some time yet.