Unconventional [Rebirth] - Chapter 81

After leaving Rong Jingtang with the medicine he needed for the next few days, Jiang Rui set off back to school. The spiritual phantom that Miao Xuan had left behind in his absence had maintained a normal routine, attending classes and returning to the dormitory on schedule without incident.

However, the moment Jiang Rui physically stepped back into the dorm, he saw An Le clinging to Zhao Jinyan’s neck, shaking him frantically while wailing, “I’m going to die! I’m totally going to die!”

Jiang Rui entered and closed the door behind him. “What happened?”

“Oh, Jiang Rui, you’re back?” An Le glanced at him, then climbed the ladder to pull a transparent plastic bag from his bed. Inside was a neatly folded blue-and-white uniform.

“Here,” An Le said, handing the bag to Jiang Rui with a long face. “We’re doomed. I actually thought our school didn’t do military training…”

Military training?

Jiang Rui had a moment of realization. He had almost forgotten about it, thinking it had been canceled.

“The weather was so weird a few days ago that the school just gave us a holiday. I thought military training was off the table, but who knew it was just delayed?” An Le’s eyebrows drooped; he looked like a wilted plant.

Though An Le usually looked clean and energetic, that energy was reserved for having fun. When it came to serious exercise like running, he was the first to complain.

“Military training is one thing,” An Le sighed, slumping into his chair with a look of utter despair. He stared blankly at Zhao Jinyan, who was working on a PowerPoint presentation. “But freshmen… we have a whole year of morning drills ahead of us. This is even worse than high school…”

Zhao Jinyan finally looked up from his computer, a hint of a smile on his face. “Le-le, you just lack exercise.”

An Le felt deeply wronged. Being a “homebody” was a popular trend these days. Besides, he wasn’t a shut-in; he just liked playing games when he was free. Running, however, was his mortal enemy.

Jiang Rui rubbed his nose, understanding An Le’s plight. In his previous life, a childhood fever had caused tachycardia, leaving him with poor health for years. Though he had eventually toughened up through hardship, back in high school, he used to scowl at the thought of morning drills just like any other student.

Thus, as someone who had “been there” and no longer feared physical exertion, Jiang Rui found the situation… rather amusing.

“Oh, right,” An Le said, rubbing his head sheepishly. “Jiang Rui, where do you buy your fruit?”

Jiang Rui blinked and smiled. “My family grows some. They aren’t for sale, but if you want more, I still have some here.”

“You do?!” An Le’s eyes lit up instantly. He lunged for the bag Jiang Rui was carrying. “I’ve been craving those peaches! They barely have any fuzz, and they’re so big and crunchy! You have no idea—I think your peaches have beauty benefits. Look, look! My face is completely clear!”

A few days ago, An Le had broken out after eating too much spicy food. A large, painful pimple had made even washing his face a chore for days.

Jiang Rui laughed. “Maybe the fertilizer is just good. No pollution.”

An Le mumbled something under his breath and let the matter drop.

Though they were waiting for news, the announcement came quickly. By Monday morning, it was declared that military training would begin that afternoon.

Even though it was late summer, the heat was sweltering—the kind of “sauna weather” where you felt like you wanted to peel off your own skin just to cool down. In July and August, the humidity was unbearable. This was going to be a struggle for many students.

Jiang Rui sighed as he looked at the list of instructors assigned to the classes. They stood under the blistering sun, waiting for the men who would be training them.

Jiang Rui was fine, feeling no discomfort at all. However, many of his classmates were already complaining of exhaustion after standing for only a short while. Some of the bolder ones simply sat on the ground to rest.

An Le wanted to sit too, but he knew the school administration was monitoring this training closely. Though he wanted to take a chance, he realized he could at least hold out. He pounded his lower back with his fists, tensed his body, and then relaxed, feeling a tiny bit better.

“Are you okay?” Zhao Jinyan whispered from An Le’s right.

An Le shook his head. “I stayed up too late playing games these past few days. I’m exhausted and my head is spinning.”

“You should watch your schedule,” Jiang Rui noted. “If you don’t take care of your body now, you’ll pay for it when you’re older.”

An Le laughed. “You’re a few years younger than me, yet you talk like an old man.”

Jiang Rui blinked and fell silent.

At that moment, the instructor assigned to their class arrived. As soon as he appeared, the girls began whispering excitedly. The reason was simple: the instructor was exceptionally handsome.

Jiang Rui, however, felt a sense of helplessness. He recognized this man. He was an old acquaintance.

After the instructor introduced himself and they became somewhat acquainted, the first day’s practice began—which was mostly just practicing the military stance. After a while, they were allowed to sit and rest while the instructors demonstrated how to fold quilts into perfect “tofu blocks.”

Jiang Rui, Zhao Jinyan, and An Le were in the front row, giving them a front-seat view of the two instructors.

“After today’s training, all instructors will inspect the dormitories they are responsible for. There will be random spot checks in the future. Any dormitory that fails significantly will be publicly criticized,” the instructor—Wei Ruize—announced.

He acted as though he didn’t know Jiang Rui at all. Gone was the friendly, surprised man from Lianyu Villa a few months ago. He spoke to the students in a calm, professional tone.

Jiang Rui could hear the girls behind him swooning over how “cool” the instructor was, but he was curious. Given the Wei family’s political background and how much Mrs. Wei doted on her son, how had she ever agreed to let Wei Ruize join the army?

For now, the answer was out of reach. Since Wei Ruize was acting the part of a strict instructor, Jiang Rui didn’t bother greeting him. He simply endured the afternoon sun along with the rest of the class.

When training ended near 6:00 PM, even Jiang Rui felt a sense of relief. Not because of fatigue, but because he had grown accustomed to a leisurely student life. Though he was disciplined in his cultivation, he hadn’t engaged in this kind of mundane exercise in a long time.

The other students looked as though they had just finished a marathon. They trudged along like turtles, leaning on each other for support.

An Le was the most dramatic. Drained of all his usual vitality, he draped his arms over his roommates’ shoulders and moaned, “I’m dead… let’s just get takeout and eat in the dorm. At least there’s air conditioning there.”

Jiang Rui agreed. While he didn’t technically need to eat, as a human habit, he found that eating a bit of regular food made him feel more “normal.”

When they returned, their dorm door was open. Jiang Rui paused, suddenly remembering that there were actually four people assigned to this room. He had completely forgotten about the fourth roommate.

Inside, a young man was setting up a computer. Seeing the three of them enter, he exaggerated his movements as if showing off. Jiang Rui found it amusing; such childish spite felt like a distant memory to him.

They sat at their respective desks to eat. Jiang Rui went online to check the recent stock market trends. He vaguely remembered a “dark horse” stock from his previous life that had swept the market during a period of instability. After searching for a while without success, he closed the page and focused on his meal.

After dinner, An Le slumped in his chair and let out a satisfied burp. He looked at his messy bed with dread. “Do you think the instructors will actually come to our room?”

“Who knows,” Zhao Jinyan replied as he climbed onto his own bed to tidy up. “You have a weak stomach; just stay down there for a bit.”

An Le cheered up instantly, energizing himself to turn on his computer. “Jinyan, Jinyan, I love you, like a mouse loves rice!”

With that, he immersed himself in his games. Freshman year, aside from the morning drills and military training, was actually quite relaxed.

Jiang Rui finished his meal and took out the trash for his roommates. He planned to enter his “Inner Dimension” to cultivate for a while.

Miao Xuan had suffered a significant loss of vitality after helping Jia Shi break the seal of the Gamosuo. Although he hadn’t shown it to outsiders, Jiang Rui was worried about his frequent yawning. As an artifact spirit, Miao Xuan wouldn’t need to sleep unless the damage was severe.

Jiang Rui entered the secret realm, leaving a phantom double in the dorm.

The moment he arrived in the space, the little white tiger pounced into his arms. Jiang Rui stroked its fur as the cub made tiny, high-pitched growls. “Is Miao Xuan in seclusion?”

“Awooo,” the cub replied, nuzzling Jiang Rui’s palm.

Jiang Rui sighed. With a flash of movement, he reached the center of the secret realm where a small wooden hut stood. According to Miao Xuan, he had lived in that hut before he lost his physical form and became a spirit.

Inside, Jiang Rui sensed a ripple of spiritual energy. The energy didn’t reject him, so he entered easily.

Miao Xuan, who usually looked like a teenager, had regressed into a young child—no more than six or seven years old. Jiang Rui sighed, sat cross-legged before him, and transferred a third of his own spiritual energy to the boy.

Miao Xuan’s pained expression softened, and his chubby face regained some color. After fifteen minutes, Miao Xuan opened his eyes and exhaled a breath of turbid air. He looked at Jiang Rui with a child’s face but an elder’s eyes and said, “Thank you, Master.”

The contrast was so jarring it was hard for Jiang Rui to process. He looked at the porcelain-doll-like Miao Xuan and waved a hand. “You were hurt this badly? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Miao Xuan looked embarrassed. “I am an artifact spirit; my purpose is to protect my master. It shouldn’t be the other way around.”

“That’s just prejudice,” Jiang Rui smiled. “Think of it this way: if you are at your best, you are my greatest help.”

Miao Xuan took this to heart and scratched his head. “Yes, thank you, Master.”

Jiang Rui handed him two golden pills. “I refined these recently. Only two came from the batch. Your injury is at the foundation, so you need nourishment more than cultivation. These are perfect for you.”

Miao Xuan didn’t stand on ceremony and took the pills. Once he began his meditation, Jiang Rui stayed for a while to help guide the chaotic currents in the boy’s body. Once the situation was stable, he took the white tiger to the mineral veins.

The little tiger acted as if it owned the place, stepping softly along the path. Clusters of white light followed it like a welcoming committee. When they reached a massive block of white jade, Jiang Rui couldn’t help but laugh.

The tiger had hollowed out the center of the jade to make a miniature room, complete with a bed and stools. The furniture was scaled for an adult, but they were covered in tiny tooth marks.

“Can you transform into a human?” Jiang Rui asked. He didn’t recall any records of “Five-Element Essences” successfully taking human form.

The tiger puffed out its chest and let out a series of “awoos,” waving a paw as if trying to look majestic, though to Jiang Rui, it looked as cute as a “Maneki-neko” lucky cat.

“Alright, I get it,” Jiang Rui said, his eyes crinkling with laughter. He realized the tiger had “chewed” the furniture into shape. He took the last drop of Jade Tree Pith and handed it to the cub.

The white tiger’s eyes widened. It had tried to scratch that tree before and nearly broke its claws, and now here was a whole drop! It gave a soft cry of thanks and swallowed the pith whole.

Sensing movement outside, Jiang Rui bid farewell to Miao Xuan and left the secret realm. He sat up on his bed just as two instructors entered the dormitory.

Cries of “The instructors are here!” echoed down the hallway as students scrambled to tidy their beds.

Jiang Rui looked around. His bed was perfectly made, and while An Le was still gaming, Zhao Jinyan had already tidied An Le’s bed. However…

“Who sleeps in Bed 3?” Wei Ruize asked, his expression cold.

“It’s mine,” the fourth roommate, Jiang Bin, replied. He faked a weak expression. “Instructor, I’m not feeling well…”

“Spare me the nonsense!” Wei Ruize didn’t hesitate. He pulled out a mini camera and snapped a photo of the messy bed. The name “Jiang Bin” was clearly visible. “Jiang Bin? Clean this up immediately. And I want a 5,000-word self-reflection essay on my desk by tomorrow morning!”

“What?! On what grounds?!” Jiang Bin shrieked.

Wei Ruize ignored him and turned to Jiang Rui. “Jiang… Rui. You three did well. You will be commended tomorrow morning.”

Jiang Bin looked furious. Forgetting his “stomach ache,” he stood up to argue, but An Le held him back. Jiang Rui nodded politely to Wei Ruize before the instructors moved to the next room.

“Why did you stop me?” Jiang Bin snapped at An Le once they were gone.

“Military training grades affect your final GPA. Don’t you know how strict Beijing University’s grading system is?”

Jiang Bin froze, then grumbled something under his breath. An Le and Zhao Jinyan had already told Jiang Rui that poor military training grades meant retaking the course with next year’s freshmen and losing two credit points. For a top-tier school like this, losing those points could ruin your job prospects.

Zhao Jinyan had noted that while you didn’t have to be the best, you absolutely couldn’t have a black mark on your record. They had told Jiang Rui this because they wanted to befriend him, but they didn’t feel the need to tell Jiang Bin.

Jiang Bin reluctantly began tidying his things. Wei Ruize eventually circled back. “The first time is a warning; I won’t report it officially.” He deleted the photo but kept his eyes on Jiang Bin. “The essay is still 5,000 words. Hand it in tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Jiang Bin muttered through gritted teeth.

Once the door closed, Jiang Bin slammed his desk. “He’s just a soldier! I heard people only join the army if they didn’t finish high school or their families are too poor. Who does he think he is, acting so high and mighty?”

The smile on Jiang Rui’s face vanished. He looked at Jiang Bin coldly. “Wei Ruize holds dual master’s degrees. Soldiers are not as ‘base’ as you make them out to be.”

Jiang Rui might have been “old-fashioned” in this regard, but he was a patriot. In his past life, he had known a soldier who had been tortured for three days and nights by an enemy without uttering a single word. That display of iron will had left a deep impression on him. To Jiang Rui, the military was a noble profession.

Diplomas weren’t everything. As the old saying goes: “Without the warrior to maintain peace, the scholar has no place to write.”

Jiang Bin frowned, ready to snap back, but then asked, “You know that instructor?”

“We’ve met a few times,” Jiang Rui replied curtly before turning back to his bed.

Jiang Bin’s expression soured further. He glared at Jiang Rui’s back but said nothing, turning back to his computer. An Le and Zhao Jinyan exchanged a glance, shrugged, and went back to their games.