Unconventional [Rebirth] - Chapter 76

In the days that followed, Jia Shi treated Rong Anchen with extraordinary kindness. Anchen was blissfully happy, his face constantly brightened by a lingering smile.

Their relationship continued in this manner until the day Jia Shi turned eighteen—which was also Anchen’s seventeenth birthday. In a rare occurrence, the two shared a joint birthday celebration. Though the party was supposed to be a grand affair, their parents had deliberately arranged a modest dinner with only a few guests present. Still, after blowing out the seventeen crowded candles, Rong Anchen made a silent, heartfelt wish: he wanted to be with Jia Shi forever.

At that moment, Jia Shi’s expression was unreadable and complex, but Anchen, eyes closed in prayer, did not see it.

Shortly after, Anchen fell into a mysterious, deep sleep. He thought nothing of it at the time. When he woke the next morning, he happily dressed himself, eager to find Jia Shi.

But the room where Jia Shi lived was empty.

The space was a hollow shell. The furniture, the flowers—everything was gone. A suffocating wave of grief washed over Anchen instantly; it was as if he had suddenly realized the truth but refused to accept reality.

It was then that his father emerged from a room and handed him a package. Anchen accepted it with a numb expression. Feeling the mixture of soft and hard objects inside, a memory flickered in his mind: something called the Gamosuo.

“Jia Shi asked me to give this to you,” his father’s voice said, sounding as deep and steady as ever. Half-hidden in the shadows, his figure seemed blurred and surreal.

Anchen’s ears rang, but he could still make out his father’s fragmented words: “You’ve had your fun these past two years. Jia Shi is gone; it’s time you grew up.”

At first, Anchen believed his father had forced Jia Shi away. But then, inside the package, he found fragments of black hair.

Has Jia Shi become a little monk again?

Tears traced paths down Anchen’s face, though not a single drop fell onto the hair. He didn’t ask why Jia Shi left. Even if he had, there would be no answer. His father would only say they were never meant to be together; everyone seemed to dismiss the bond between him and Jia Shi as nothing more than a youthful whim.

From that day on, Anchen grew silent. He became the “mature” Young Master of the Rong family—the one everyone claimed had finally learned from his mistakes.

Time trickled by. In the blink of an eye, ten years had passed—a decade that once seemed an impossible mountain to climb. The agonizing pain that used to steal his breath seemed to have vanished. Anchen truly believed that his feelings for Jia Shi had been eroded by time, fading into nothingness.

But the moment he saw the young child that A-Jing cherished so dearly, his mind slipped back into a trance.

The resemblance was too striking.

Jia Shi had possessed such a profound Buddhist aura and such exquisite features. Even when he was right beside you, there was always a lingering sense that he might vanish at any moment. And in the end, he did.

The child was young, appearing a few years younger than A-Jing. Yet, in front of the boy, A-Jing acted like a completely unreasonable toddler, a sight that usually made Anchen want to smile.

After seeing the child and returning to the Rong estate, Anchen felt dazed. The small hut next to the main house was gone; the room where Jia Shi once stayed had long since been converted into a study. Of everything Jia Shi had been, only that single package remained.

He realized he didn’t even own a single photograph of Jia Shi. Their two years together had been so tragically simple.

Anchen assumed that, given A-Jing’s protective nature, seeing the child again would be nearly impossible. Yet, less than a year later, he encountered them again at A-Jing’s home.

And Jia Shi was standing right beside the child.

In an instant, everything Anchen thought he had buried deep in his memory resurfaced. A flood of emotion surged through him, nearly suffocating him once more.

But Jia Shi acted as though they were total strangers. With lowered eyes and palms pressed together in prayer, he did not glance at Anchen even once. In just ten short years, Jia Shi had seemingly forgotten everything.

Anchen could have restrained himself from asking why. But as Jia Shi prepared to walk out the door, he finally broke. He had lost the battle against his own heart.

“You were gone for ten years,” Anchen said, struggling to keep his voice steady, unaware that he was shaking uncontrollably. “Do you have nothing to say to me?”

Jia Shi turned, bowing slightly with humble, polite grace. “Benefactor Rong, this poor monk’s Dharma name is Yuan Jue.”

Anchen’s lip twitched spasmodically. He clenched his fists hidden inside his long sleeves, fighting back the lump in his throat. “Yuan Jue…”

“One who has left the secular world has purified the six senses; I must not break my vows,” Jia Shi said, his voice as flat and emotionless as a stagnant pool.

Anchen laughed bitterly. “Break your vows? You broke them long ago. And now you tell me a man of the cloth must have pure senses?”

Jia Shi stood silently before him, his expression tranquil. Finally, he spoke: “Benefactor, I have come to reclaim the Gamosuo.”

Hearing those words, Anchen felt a sudden sense of release.

“Fine. I will give it to you.” Anchen took out the item from the brocade box—the very thing Rong Jingtang had specifically told him to bring.

Inside the box was an ancient Buddhist artifact: a central cylindrical handle with two pointed ends, adorned with traditional engravings. On the originally golden surface of the Gamosuo, dark red stains spread from the tips—marks that looked like bloodstains etched over many years.

The moment the treasure was revealed, a powerful, malevolent energy surged within it, thrashing about as if trying to escape, yet held back by some unseen fear.

Anchen gripped the Gamosuo tightly, his tears falling one by one onto the bluestone floor. “Take it back. Everything you gave me… I’m giving it all back.”

For a fleeting second, Jia Shi’s outstretched hand seemed to tremble, but the movement vanished as quickly as it appeared. Taking the artifact, Jia Shi said nothing more. He offered a final bow and turned to leave.

Behind him, Anchen stood alone in the center of the hall. He faced the orange glow of the setting sun, but felt no warmth.

“A-Jing,” Anchen called out wearily. He dragged his feet to a chair and sat down, staring vacantly at the floor.

Rong Jingtang, who had been sitting in the primary seat from the beginning, acknowledged him.

“He really has changed.” Anchen leaned his head back against the chair. His cooling tears welled up again, making his eyes burn.

Watching the tears slip from the corners of Anchen’s eyes, Rong Jingtang walked to his side. “Uncle, this too shall pass.”

Anchen had thought it was truly over—that Jia Shi would spend the rest of his life on Mount Putuo while he continued his hollow, habitual existence. But that very night, Jia Shi returned, carrying an infant.

“This is Rong Jingtang’s younger brother. When you leave, give the child to Jiang Rui.”

Anchen’s mind had been spinning wild theories—wondering if the baby was Jia Shi’s secret child—but the monk’s next words left him stunned.

“The debts owed years ago must finally be repaid.” Jia Shi chanted a prayer. Looking at Anchen’s wide-eyed shock, he offered a smile that was simultaneously foreign and familiar. “An-Chen, I do remember you.”

Anchen’s arms tightened, but he couldn’t find his voice. He watched as Jia Shi shook his head and pointed a finger to his own heart. He spoke slowly, his voice just loud enough to be heard: “But here… there is no longer any feeling.”

Jia Shi bid his final farewell. This time, Anchen did not try to stop him.

Emerging from the backyard, Anchen saw the peach trees that had been planted years ago. Beneath them were two graves he and a silent A-Jing had dug themselves. The mounds were high but exceptionally clean. Peach blossoms fluttered down, landing on the shoulders of a boy standing under the tree.

“Jiang Rui.” Anchen stepped forward with the child, but the boy had already entered the courtyard.

Jiang Rui looked surprised but stepped up to greet him. Anchen didn’t say much; he simply handed over the infant. “Jia Shi asked me to give this child to you…”

It was clear Jiang Rui already knew the baby was A-Jing’s brother. It seemed everyone was in on the secret while Anchen alone had been kept in the dark.

Anchen felt a tightness in his chest, but he forced a smile. “We owe this child too much, yet we are powerless to help him.”

In the end, he still instinctively placed himself and Jia Shi on the same side.

As he looked back at the small room under the trees, a sense of longing began to rise once more. If he hadn’t seen him today, perhaps he really would have forgotten after ten years.

But fate had brought them together again.

He remembered Jiang Rui’s words—that his “marriage knot” was a broken thread. Even if it was just wishful thinking, Anchen chose to believe that thread was Jia Shi.

He hadn’t been able to forget this love in ten years. Now that they had met again and the spark had been reignited, how could he ever truly let go?