Unconventional [Rebirth] - Chapter 107

Today, Jia Shi suddenly received a request from Putuo Temple. They invited him up the mountain to mentor a young monk who was only four or five years old.

Jia Shi found it strange. Seeing the flicker of anxiety on Rong Anchen’s face, he smiled and patted his hand to reassure him.

“The Gamo Shuttle has been returned to its rightful owner. This little monk, like me, was born with a natural Buddhist aura. It is only right that I return to guide him,” Jia Shi spoke lightly. He didn’t expect that this trip… would lead to a major “trouble.”

At Putuo Temple, Jia Shi eventually gave in to Rong Anchen’s hesitant looks and brought him along. Rong Anchen was visibly delighted throughout the journey; he had traded his casual home silks for more elegant, scholarly attire.

Jia Shi’s hair had grown out, though he kept his forehead clear of bangs. The cinnabar mark between his brows appeared vibrant, yet perfectly natural. The mountain gates of Putuo Temple had been opened wide. Usually, Jia Shi—having grown up there—wouldn’t care for such formalities, yet the temple insisted.

The Abbot, with his long white beard, stood at the gate with palms pressed together. Two young acolytes, no more than fourteen or fifteen, followed his lead in greeting them.

“Follow me.” The Abbot and Jia Shi had known each other for countless years. There was no need for superfluous words. Seeing Jia Shi and Rong Anchen’s fingers tightly intertwined, the Abbot was tactful enough not to suggest taking Jia Shi aside alone.

The Abbot led them toward the room where Jia Shi used to live.

“Ancient texts state that tools used by those born with a Buddhist aura provide a sense of security to a newborn with the same gift. It helps stabilize a young child’s drifting soul,” Jia Shi explained softly. Beside him, the Abbot remarked, “This must be a fated connection between you two.”

“A few nights ago, while chanting at midnight, I heard the sound of crying. I rose to investigate and found this child outside the temple gates.” The boy was about four or five. He had been sobbing softly, but his eyes were remarkably bright and dark.

The area around Putuo Temple is filled with Buddhist energy to suppress the restless spirits of the four seas, which makes the yin energy at the foot of the mountain quite heavy. Yet, despite crying outside for so long, this child showed no trace of yin energy; instead, he radiated an undeniable golden Buddhist aura.

He was exactly like the legends of those “Born with Buddha’s Grace.”

Jia Shi looked at the child, who was currently sleeping spread-eagled on his bed, drooling slightly. The boy was chubby and didn’t look like he came from a poor family; his hair was thick and dark, and his little belly rose and fell rhythmically with his breath.

Jia Shi turned to look at Rong Anchen, who was staring at the child without even blinking. Jia Shi sighed inwardly.

“I will take this child and raise him,” Jia Shi announced, stepping forward to pick up the boy.

The Abbot bowed in return. He watched as Rong Anchen carefully took the child, letting the boy’s head rest against his shoulder. After a moment of silence, and once Rong Anchen had stepped outside, the Abbot spoke: “The world is at peace, and the Buddhist faith is tranquil. This child is only four or five; there is no need to force this path upon him.”

Jia Shi understood perfectly and returned the bow with a smile. “If the world truly needs him to save it, then when the time comes, he will naturally take up the mantle.”

The Abbot bowed once more and turned to leave. Outside, Rong Anchen was busy “stealing a kiss” from the child’s cheek. Caught by Jia Shi’s warm gaze, his face flushed slightly, but he returned a bright smile under the sandalwood tree.

The years were peaceful. In this lifetime, they had nothing more to ask for.

— End of Side Story —

The lingering troubles from his past life had all been settled. During this time, Jiang Rui successfully finished his studies and graduated from the academy. However… upon graduation, he received two very peculiar invitations.

One for him, and one for Rong Jingtang. As for why they were “peculiar”…

Jiang Rui examined the paper. It was traditional Xuan paper, looking inconspicuous tucked between a stack of books, save for the mark in the bottom right corner—a seal clearly pressed with spiritual energy.

When he got home, he handed the invitations to Rong Jingtang. Seeing the words “Special Affairs Department” on the paper, the usually stoic Rong Jingtang finally showed a hint of surprise.

“Does the Rong family have ties to the Special Affairs Department?” Jiang Rui asked.

“I thought the Department never wanted to deal with the Rong family again,” Rong Jingtang laughed, waving the papers. “I had an ancestor named Rong An. Centuries ago, he worked in the Department for a long time before disappearing under mysterious circumstances. Before he died, he said that if a descendant of the Rong family ever re-entered the Department, he would return…”

Jiang Rui silently lit a “candle” in his heart for this ancestor. A promise made a thousand years ago was still part of the Rong family precepts; he wondered if the Special Affairs Department had a similar “warning” on their end.

“Let’s agree to it,” Rong Jingtang said, casually waving the paper.

In the next instant, the papers in both their hands vanished simultaneously. After a flash of yellow light, their hands were empty.

“The Department operates in the mortal world, so they inevitably need mundane wealth. The Rong family has been in business for centuries and has produced many masters; our ties with them run deep. Even before this invitation, the Rong family has had many undercover dealings with them.” Jiang Rui wasn’t surprised to hear this.

The work of the Special Affairs Department was essentially handling incidents that defied normal explanation—things human strength couldn’t solve were handed over to them.

For example, a famous news story once broke about a five-year-old girl committing suicide in a sealed room. What made it “viral” was that the room was perfectly locked from the inside, yet the girl had been strangled to death while hanging upside down, her face contorted in agony. Jiang Rui had looked into it out of curiosity later. The “haunted house” had long since been demolished for a high-rise, and the area had been purified by monks, leaving no trace of resentment behind.

After agreeing to join, life didn’t seem much different. Rong Jingtang’s title was “Diplomatic Envoy,” while Jiang Rui was a “Special Affairs Doctor”—roles that perfectly matched their public identities.

In truth, modern society had just as many restless spirits as ancient times, if not more. Jiang Rui’s horizons were broadened; at the Department’s headquarters, he had the “pleasure” of seeing many demons in their true forms.

If he were to see a fox with a flower in its hair, holding a cup of water in one hand while typing furiously on a keyboard with the other—all while using its back legs to scratch for fleas—he probably wouldn’t be surprised anymore.

Time passed slowly. Most of the demons and humans in the Department didn’t have much interest in seeking immortality. Living longer didn’t seem to be a priority because anyone who worked for the Department was “on the books.” If they died, they didn’t have to worry—chances are, they’d “forget” to drink the tea in the Underworld and come back to work in their next life once they remembered their past.

Knowing this, and seeing how many people “accidentally” skipped the tea, Jiang Rui lost interest in intensive cultivation. Every day, he just handled work and teased “Lord Rong.”

However, today felt… unusual.

Upon returning home, he found his parents sitting stiffly in the living room. Five or six years had passed since his graduation. He was now twenty-five, and Lord Rong had just crossed the thirty-year mark, though neither of their appearances had changed.

Jiang Rui was often elusive, and as the couple’s health improved daily, all the subtle clues had finally accumulated to the point of surfacing.

In front of his parents sat an unopened pack of condoms and a black trash bag containing… well, Jiang Rui rubbed his nose, set his things down, and sat beside Rong Jingtang.

“Rui Rui, what is all this?” His mother wasn’t hysterical or angry; she was eerily calm. His father, however, looked at his son with a complicated expression before sighing softly.

“Mom…” Jiang Rui didn’t answer directly, he just called out to her.

“How long have you two been together?” she asked, not pressing the previous point.

Jiang Rui thought for a moment and smiled. “A long time.”

If they went back far enough, their “impure” intentions had probably started when they were still children.

His mother fell silent for a long time. She recalled how the house had looked when she first visited—spotless, unlike a place where people actually lived—and the unused kitchen…

Her thoughts were a mess. She exchanged a look with Jiang Rui’s father. With Rong Jingtang present, there were things she couldn’t say. Eventually, she stood up, looking at the two men with a complicated sigh. She grabbed her husband’s arm, picked up the luggage they had brought, and walked out the door.

Jiang Rui didn’t stop them. He knew his mother had suspected it for a long time but had been lying to herself. Now, they just needed time to process it.

After a while, Jiang Rui suddenly sat on Rong Jingtang’s lap, facing him. He cupped the man’s face and asked, “If my mom asks who does the housework…”

“I do,” Rong Jingtang answered instantly.

“Cooking and dishes?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Who’s on top and who’s on bottom?” Jiang Rui asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

Unfortunately, Lord Rong didn’t show a hint of shyness. He replied, “You’re on top.”

The way he said “on top” had a thousand different meanings. Jiang Rui’s expression froze as he felt a very familiar pressure beneath him, especially given their current position… it wasn’t exactly “harmonious.”

So I really am “on top” (in this position)? Jiang Rui reflected gloomily. Their intimate encounters weren’t that frequent, but it seemed it really was always like this.