At this point, there was no need to delve deeper into the topic. Lei Jin knew better than to pry too much into Roger’s affairs. Though curiosity gnawed at him, he understood the importance of restraint—especially since this matter clearly wasn’t a pleasant memory for Roger. Turning it into gossip would be too cruel.

The family had always suspected, but suspicion and confirmation were two very different things. Today, Grapes’ appearance had abruptly bridged that gap, catching everyone off guard—especially Roger, the one most directly involved.

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Lei Jin sent Moya and Xiya off to bed and lay down with the baby in his arms. Before leaving, Xiya had even changed Grapes’ diaper. Lei Jin reached down to check—yep, dry and clean. Chunji had prepared these in advance.

Little Grapes, thinking Lei Jin was playing with him, wriggled excitedly, his bright eyes wide open—clearly not ready for sleep.

Lei Jin had no choice but to hold him close, patting and coaxing until the baby finally drifted off. By then, Lei Jin was sweating despite the winter chill.

“Such a little troublemaker,” he murmured, lightly kissing Grapes’ eyelids. “Sleep, sleep, little grape.”

As Xiya had said, the baby was too thin. Only when playing did his cheeks flush pink; otherwise, his complexion remained pale. Born prematurely and having endured so much, it was a miracle he was even alive. How could I have ever thought of abandoning such a precious little thing?

The stillness of night always stirred emotions. Even if Lei Jin tried not to dwell on it, too much had happened in such a short time—losing and regaining the baby, failing to leave, Mingya’s injury—no one could ignore these events, no matter how thick-skinned.

Let it go. It’s all in the past. Stay here and live well. With so many people by my side, and now the baby… what more could I want?

Yet, there was something else—something he couldn’t quite define. Even if he eventually accepted being their mate, he couldn’t spend his days confined to the bed, waiting to bear children.

But Baby… thank goodness you came back. Otherwise, I would never have forgiven myself. Forever unable to enjoy all of this with peace of mind.

“Second Brother…” Mingya whispered, nudging Moya, who was sleeping on the outer edge of the bed. Why did he feel that Lei Jin was crying?

Moya turned over, pressing Mingya’s head against his chest and patting him in silent reassurance.

Lei Jin wasn’t making a sound—just stifling quiet sobs in his throat.

His grief over losing the child had always run deeper than he let on. After all, he had blamed himself for the baby’s death. Now, finally being able to cry meant he could finally release that burden. Moya resisted the urge to gather both Lei Jin and the baby into his arms.

Xiya, lying with his hands behind his head, also caught the faint sounds from the inner room. This time, he’s really staying—willingly, without regrets, right? Unlike his papa, who had hidden years of pain and resentment, perhaps Lei Jin’s choice was genuine.

Maybe Moya and Mingya were right. A brief separation doesn’t mean letting go.

It was just that Xiya had been too afraid of loss. When his papa left, Moya was still young, and Mingya hadn’t even been born. Only Xiya remembered his papa’s resolute departure—the feeling of being abandoned. He never wanted to experience that again.

The next day, Roger still didn’t come out for meals. An Sen and An Luo stayed by his side the whole time. Lei Jin, as usual, took Mingya to Chunji’s place.

When he heard about Grapes’ condition, his heart sank. Fortunately, the old man in black—who called himself Tian Qi and boastfully claimed to have been the most renowned physician on the continent fifty years ago—assured him that since the baby was still young, he could be cured.

Lei Jin inwardly rolled his eyes at the man’s shameless self-praise but outwardly maintained a respectful demeanor, nodding along and even throwing in a few flattering remarks. After all, his baby’s life was in his hands.

Tian Qi instructed Lei Jin to hold the baby steady before inserting needles into Grapes’ head—turning the poor child’s scalp into a pincushion. The baby wailed uncontrollably, and Lei Jin, rarely one to show vulnerability in public, nearly broke down. At one point, he almost snatched Grapes away and stormed off, refusing further treatment.

It was Chunji who snapped him out of it, scolding him into submission. Lei Jin gritted his teeth and held the baby tightly until the session ended. Meanwhile, Mingya, heartbroken at seeing Grapes suffer, cried along with him.

Later, Lei Jin mentioned the naming matter to Chunji. The latter, who had been moping like a condemned criminal, instantly perked up. First, he mocked Lei Jin’s naming sense—”Green eyes, so you call him ‘Grapes’? If his eyes were black, would you name him ‘Pebbles’?”—nearly earning himself a punch.

Then, without hesitation, Chunji suggested his own name: Han Xi, which meant winter dawn.

Lei Jin reluctantly accepted, refusing to admit that Chunji’s choice of name was far more meaningful than his own. But he knew Chunji must have thought of it long ago—otherwise, he wouldn’t have answered so quickly.

Chunji’s personality was much like Lei Jin’s—the more he cared, the more he pretended not to. The fact that he had a name ready proved just how much he adored the baby.

“Baby, little grape, eat a little more,” Chunji coaxed, feeding Grapes milk fruit juice.

Having more people love the baby wasn’t a bad thing. Of course, everyone would adore his child. Lei Jin smirked proudly.

Jia He was the tribe’s carpenter, skilled in crafting doors and stools—even many of the odd furnishings in Chunji’s home were his handiwork. Lei Jin commissioned a crib, knowing his own terrible sleeping habits. Before, it hadn’t mattered, but now, the thought of accidentally crushing the baby terrified him.

Jia He had made cribs before, but never one with wheels. After some animated explanations from Lei Jin and Jia He’s quick comprehension, they managed to attach four solid wooden wheels to the crib’s base.

The only downside? It could only move straight—no turning. Still, Lei Jin was thrilled. He planned to use it as a bed at night and take the baby for walks on sunny days.

Jia He, though a tall and burly werebeast, was meticulous—especially since this was their family’s child. The crib was made of smooth, oiled bamboo slats, with a raised frame and a flat base. He even designed it with two layers—the lower one for storage and ventilation, ensuring the baby wouldn’t overheat in summer.

After thanking Jia He profusely and leaving him a frozen deer as payment, Lei Jin proudly wheeled the crib home, drawing envious stares—especially from the tribe’s females. Many, despite their own worries, couldn’t help but admire the convenience of such a crib and asked Lei Jin how it was made. He answered them all without holding back.

As Grapes’ health gradually improved, Lei Jin’s worries shifted to two other matters.

First, Mingya’s leg. He had asked Chunji repeatedly, but the answer remained the same—it would never fully recover. Lei Jin didn’t care how Mingya looked, but Mingya was barely just an adult. How could he bear Mingya ending up disabled, especially because of him?

Second, the family’s current situation. While food was usually plentiful in this world, with tribes spaced far apart and rarely clashing, exceptions existed. Now, at the start of spring, with snow still unmelted and winter stores nearly depleted, many families were on the brink of starvation.

The werebeasts were preparing for a large hunt, but with most animals still hibernating and migratory herds yet to arrive, food sources were scarce. During such times, even normally peaceful tribes would fight viciously over resources, leading to countless deaths.

If only the tribe had more food reserves… But planting now wouldn’t yield anything in time.

Their own household was still well-stocked, thanks to the family’s five werebeasts’ winter hunts. But this time, aside from Mingya (who was injured), An Sen, Xiya, and the others would all be going.

What if something happens?

Lei Jin had just resolved to stay and build a life with them. He couldn’t afford to lose any of them.

These issues were very headache-inducing. Rubbing his temples as he walked, Lei Jin couldn’t help but grumble. One husband would’ve been enough trouble. Now he had three—triple the worries. Could his life get any harder?

The answer came immediately: Yes.

Because right then, he saw An Bu—the person who gave Roger headaches.

An Bu was leading a group of werebeasts, discussing something in low tones, his demeanor calm and composed. Tall, handsome, and dignified, he was undeniably attractive. But if Roger didn’t like him, even divine charm won’t help.

Spotting Lei Jin, An Bu dismissed the others and approached.

“May I see the child?” His gaze had been fixed on Grapes since they crossed paths.

“Go ahead.” Lei Jin was magnanimous. After all, he was technically the baby’s grandfather.

Grapes was sprawled out in the crib, sleeping with unrestrained abandon—much like his good ol’ dad.

An Bu lifted the baby with practiced ease, smiling faintly. “This is your and Moya’s child?”

As if you don’t know. The tribe wasn’t that big, and as chief, An Bu was surely aware. Still, Lei Jin nodded. “Yes, mine and Moya’s. His eyes are emerald green, so we nicknamed him ‘Grapes.’” That’s what you really wanted to confirm, isn’t it?

Sure enough, An Bu’s face lit up. “Grapes is good. A fine name.”

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Since Lei Jin had introduced grapes as edible, the whole tribe now knew what they were. An Bu naturally knew as well.

But Lei Jin knew it wasn’t about the name—it was about the baby’s eyes. Finally, proof that Roger bore him a son too.

That night, Lei Jin tossed and turned, unable to sleep—worrying about Mingya’s leg, Xiya and Moya’s upcoming hunt, and the future ahead.

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The last trace of a smile finally faded from Lei Jin’s lips. His dark eyes, devoid of emotion, fixed on Chunji for a long moment, as if making a final confirmation.

Chunji thought he still didn’t believe him and was about to explain further when Lei Jin silently stretched out his arms. Clutching the child tighter for a brief second, Chunji ultimately handed the baby over without a word—into the embrace where he rightfully belonged.

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The moment the baby was in Lei Jin’s arms, his tiny fists waved excitedly, his face breaking into a delighted grin. In that instant, Chunji felt a pang of guilt. No matter how many reasons he had, keeping the truth from the child’s birth parent for nearly three months was undeniably cruel.

Lei Jin kissed the baby’s cheek. Before leaving, he turned back and said, “Thank you, Chunji.”

Chunji froze for a second, then hurriedly ran back inside to fetch the baby’s belongings. As he handed them over, he finally uttered the long-suppressed words: “I’m sorry.”

Mingya was still in a daze, completely baffled by the situation. Though Xiya also didn’t understand how their supposedly lost child had come back to life, he knew Chunji wouldn’t joke about something like this.

What he hadn’t expected was that the baby’s eye color would unravel a mystery that had lingered in their family for nearly two decades.

Moya really is Uncle An Bu’s child.

Now, who knew what kind of storm this would stir up at home? Since there was no stopping it, all they could do was hope things would settle quickly.

“You’re back? Lunch will be ready soon—just wait a bit.” Roger emerged from the kitchen carrying a stack of bowls and utensils. When he saw the child in Lei Jin’s arms, he smiled and asked, “Is that Chunji’s baby? Why did you bring him back?”

“He’s not Chunji’s. He’s mine.” Lei Jin’s tone was calm.

“What?” Roger’s eyes widened in disbelief, thinking he had heard wrong.

Lei Jin briefly explained what had happened.

Roger was immediately overjoyed. “Really? How could such a thing happen? But it’s wonderful that the baby is alive! Come inside—it’s cold out. Let me see him.”

Lei Jin had been cradling the baby against his chest the whole way to shield him from the wind. Now, hearing voices, the curious little one turned his head and, upon seeing Roger, giggled without a trace of shyness.

But the moment Roger saw the baby’s eyes, his face paled. He staggered back two steps, the bowls in his hands shattering on the ground.

“I—I have a headache. I won’t eat lunch. Don’t wait for me. I’m going to rest.” With that, he turned and fled to his room, swiftly bolting the door behind him.

Xiya and Mingya, who had just entered behind Lei Jin, witnessed the scene.

“I didn’t do anything,” Lei Jin immediately defended himself—something he’d been doing a lot lately. What’s wrong with Roger?

“Don’t let the baby catch a cold. Go inside.” Xiya, carrying Mingya on his back, urged them to hurry in.

Later, when the rest of the family returned and heard the news about the baby, they were both shocked and overjoyed. The happiest was undoubtedly Moya. Lei Jin thought he looked like he might burst into tears at any moment—a rare sight.

Xiya was happy too, though a hint of worry lingered between his brows, his gaze frequently drifting toward Roger’s room.

As for Mingya, he just grinned foolishly, thrilled for no particular reason. Due to his injury, he had to remain in beast form to conserve energy. Lying nearby, he kept urging, “Second Brother, Second Brother!” demanding that Moya place the baby on his front paws for a closer look.

The baby didn’t seem afraid of him at all. When Mingya licked him, he giggled happily.

An Sen and An Luo knocked on Roger’s door several times with bowls of food, but received no response. After pressing their ears to the door for a while and confirming nothing out of the ordinary as well as adding to the fact that the children were present, they didn’t push further.

Everyone was happy, and Lei Jin played along, showing no signs of discomfort.

That night, Lei Jin suggested that Mingya share a bed with Moya while he slept alone with the baby. Understanding his feelings, none of the three objected. Moya even dug out the small animal hides they had brought back earlier and changed the baby into them.

While bathing, Lei Jin wondered if he should wash the baby too, but since he wasn’t sure how and Roger was in no state to ask, he decided against it. No need to risk making the baby sick.

“Baby, Baby… we should give you a name.” Lei Jin wiggled his fingers, and the baby swung his tiny fists to grab them. The two played back and forth on the bed, thoroughly entertained.

“What name should we give Baby?” Lei Jin asked the other three. Mingya was already in bed, Xiya was adding charcoal to the brazier (and tossing in a couple of sweet potatoes), and Moya—the proud new father—was pointlessly rearranging things in the room, seemingly unable to keep still.

Hearing this, Mingya perked up. “Oh, right! The baby doesn’t have a name yet! What should we call him? He’s our first baby!”

Xiya finished with the brazier, washed his hands in a wooden basin, and came over to stroke the baby’s cheek. “Baby, Naby, look at Daddy Xiya.”

The baby had been excited all day and still showed no signs of sleepiness, giggling at everyone he saw.

“Our baby is the prettiest,” Xiya said, clumsily lifting the child. Then, to Lei Jin, he added, “He’s just a bit thin. We’ll fatten him up—make him a chubby little baby.”

“You should name him. You’re his papa,” Moya said, pulling up a stool and placing a warm cup of milk fruit juice within Lei Jin’s reach.

Hearing the word papa, Lei Jin shuddered. “Don’t call me that.”

“Then what should we call you?” Moya sat on the edge of the bed, his mood visibly brighter than it had been in a long time. His fingers idly twirled a lock of Lei Jin’s soft hair.

Lei Jin lay on his side, propping his head up as he pondered. Call me ‘Dad’? But that might invite ridicule—the whole tribe knew the baby was his. ‘Father’? Roger had already claimed that. ‘Mother’? He’d rather die.

“It’s taking you this long to think of a title?”

Lei Jin snapped out of his thoughts to find Moya dangerously close, his warm breath brushing against his neck. His body instantly felt weak. Instinctively, he raised a hand to push Moya’s face away, but the moment his fingers brushed against the other’s mouth, he yanked them back as if burned, clenching his fist.

Damn it. If you’re going to be an ice block, then stay an ice block. Since when did you learn to act like this?

“Have you decided yet?” Moya pressed, deliberately leaning closer.

“Back up a little.” If you get any closer, I will have a reaction. Lei Jin inwardly cursed himself. Since when am I this desperate?

Moya’s lips curved into a quiet, tender smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth.

Trying to seduce me? Not a chance. Lei Jin glared defiantly but slowly faltered under that gaze. Clenching his fists, he fought the urge to punch something.

Fortunately, Xiya intervened before tragedy could strike. “Have you two settled on a name? Why are you fighting already?”

“I’ve decided,” Lei Jin announced loudly. “From now on, the baby will call me old Dad.”

“‘Dad’ is ‘Dad.’ Why ‘old Dad’?” Xiya, having dealt with Roger’s preferences before, had expected Lei Jin to reject papa. But old Dad?

“Because I like it.” Lei Jin waved a hand, as if that settled the matter.

“What about the baby’s actual name?” Mingya was still scratching his head in thought.

“I have a suggestion,” Lei Jin said.

“Let’s hear it,” Moya prompted.

Lei Jin wrapped himself in a blanket and sat cross-legged before declaring, “Chunji saved the baby’s life. I think he should name him.” Mostly because it was obvious how much Chunji loves this child.

Xiya glanced at Moya, who nodded. “That’s fine.”

“But before that, I’m giving the baby a nickname. His eyes are green—green like… like…” Lei Jin tugged at his hair. Like what?

“Grapes!” Mingya blurted, latching onto the first edible thing that came to mind.

“Perfect! The baby’s nickname is Grapes!” Lei Jin clapped his hands in delight. “Little Grapes, come to ol’ Dad!”

Xiya and Moya could only sigh inwardly, already foreseeing the future. Only Mingya cheered enthusiastically, further fueling Lei Jin’s inexplicable confidence—directly leading to the eventual fruity nicknames of all their subsequent children.

“By the way,” Lei Jin suddenly said, belatedly realizing the key issue, “the baby’s eyes are emerald green. Who does that come from?”

Moya’s expression instantly turned complicated.

“If you don’t even know who the baby resembles, how could you be so sure he’s ours? Weren’t you afraid Chunji was lying?” Xiya tried steering the conversation away.

“I can’t explain the feeling.” The moment Chunji had spoken, Lei Jin had believed him—he just hadn’t dared to. Would fate really be so kind? To return the child he’d thought lost forever, giving him a chance to make up for his mistakes?

But it had never crossed his mind that the baby wasn’t his. It felt right, as if the empty space in his heart had finally been filled.

“The sweet potatoes are done.” Lei Jin, still holding the baby, caught the rich, sugary aroma.

Moya fished them out of the brazier, dusted them off, peeled them, and handed half to Lei Jin. “Don’t eat too much at night—it’ll upset your stomach tomorrow.” The rest he placed in front of Mingya, who had been begging for them earlier. As a werebeast, Mingya could handle more food without issue.

“So sweet!” Mingya took a big bite.

“With less rain this year, the potatoes are naturally sweeter.” Lei Jin took a bite, and the baby’s eyes followed the movement curiously.

“Want a taste?” Grinning, Lei Jin dabbed a bit on his finger and held it to the baby’s mouth.

The toothless little one sucked eagerly, drooling all over.

“Don’t feed the baby random things. He’s too young,” Xiya chided, taking the child and wiping his mouth. “Baby, don’t eat whatever your papa gives you. You’ll get a stomachache.”

“It’s Grapes. And don’t ruin my image in front of my son!” Lei Jin protested vehemently.

“Fine, Grapes. We got it.” Moya popped the last bit of Lei Jin’s sweet potato into his own mouth and wiped his hands clean.

“Ah!” Mingya suddenly exclaimed.

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“What’s wrong? Does your leg hurt again?” Lei Jin asked anxiously.

“I just remembered! Baby—no, our little Grapes—his eyes look just like Uncle An Bu’s! Right, Eldest Brother? Second Brother?” Mingya sought confirmation.

The moment he said it, Lei Jin finally understood what was going on.

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Lei Jin didn’t know why, but the sound of this child crying twisted his heart with an unbearable ache, making him long to hold the little one in his arms and soothe him. And in the end, that was exactly what he did.

Ever since accompanying Mingya to Chunji’s place to change his bandages a couple of days ago, Lei Jin had begun noticing something strange about himself. One of the signs was that he couldn’t control his ears, which kept perking up involuntarily, especially when filtering out the sounds of the child. Whenever he heard the child’s voice, his heart would feel at peace for the entire day. But if he didn’t, his mind would grow restless, unsettled. Lei Jin concluded that he must have lost his mind—perhaps losing his own child had made him overly sensitive to other people’s children, to the point of irrational longing. To test this theory, he deliberately wandered around the tribe for a while. Given the cold weather, no one was foolish enough to take their children out for a stroll. Yet, as luck would have it, he did come across a few. However, no matter how adorable, clever, or beautiful those children were—whether werebeasts or young females—none left a lasting impression on him.

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It must be an illusion, Lei Jin kept telling himself. For the past two days, he had forced himself not to dwell on it. But today, the moment he heard the crying, his resolve crumbled. His mind was consumed with the desire to see this child who had so thoroughly disrupted his thoughts. If this continued, he feared he might develop some sort of unhealthy obsession—why else would he be so inexplicably fixated on Chunji’s child?

This should have been their first meeting, yet the child gave him an uncanny sense of familiarity—the soft, dark hair, the bright, lively green eyes—as if the child had always been a part of him, natural and intimate.

He had heard that Chunji had found this child while gathering herbs, and that the baby was barely three months old. No wonder he was so tiny, so delicate. Thanks to his prior experience with Bubbles, Lei Jin now held the child with practiced ease.

“Good baby, shhh, shhh,” Lei Jin murmured, his mind blank except for these words as the child’s cries sent his heart into turmoil.

But the moment he spoke, the child only cried harder, as if someone had pinched him mercilessly. His breaths came in uneven gasps, coughing between sobs.

“Lei Jin, what are you doing in there?” Chunji called from the yard.

“I swear I didn’t do anything!” Lei Jin hastily defended himself to the window. He was innocent.

“Brother Chunji, is that your baby? Don’t worry, Lei Jin wouldn’t bully him.” Though the pain from the medicine on his leg made Mingya gnaw at his own claws, he still found the breath to defend Lei Jin.

“I know. No one could love that child more than he does.” Chunji’s tone was strangely subdued as he said this.

Mingya found the statement odd—why would Lei Jin be the one who loved Chunji’s child the most? But he didn’t dwell on it. Besides, his leg hurt too much to think deeply about anything.

“Baby, your throat’s going hoarse. Stop crying.” Lei Jin’s heart ached helplessly, but he had no idea how to soothe the child. He turned to Chunji for help, only to be told to figure it out himself. Never in his life had Lei Jin felt so utterly at a loss.

Yet the baby showed him no mercy, continuing to wail.

“Shhh, good baby, don’t cry. Who are you crying for? Even your papa isn’t paying attention to you. Are you hungry?” The belated realization struck Lei Jin. Spotting a jug of warm milk fruit juice on the table, he managed to coax the child into a brief pause, feeding him a couple of sips before the baby refused more.

Tears and snot covered the little one’s face, but for once, Lei Jin didn’t mind the mess. Normally rough and careless, he now mustered every ounce of patience he had, wiping the child’s face with meticulous care. Seeing the baby clean and pretty again filled him with inexplicable pride. Unable to resist, he leaned down and planted two loud kisses on those chubby cheeks. And still he didn’t forget to insist on his innocence.

“It’s not like I’m taking advantage of you,” he reasoned shamelessly. “I fed you, so it’s only fair you repay me a little.” Then, unable to help himself, he gently poked the baby’s soft cheeks, marveling at how wonderfully smooth and tender a child’s skin could be.

The baby seemed to realize this was playtime, waving tiny fists and giggling.

“No wonder people say a child’s mood changes as fast as the weather in June. So true.”

After a while, the baby yawned, clearly ready for a nap. Lei Jin laid him down on the bed and settled beside him, thinking he’d just rest on the edge for a bit. Surely Chunji wouldn’t kick him out.

By the time Moya arrived to pick them up, only Mingya was in the yard. Chunji was busy in the kitchen, likely preparing lunch, but there was no sign of Lei Jin. After greeting Chunji and asking Mingya, Moya learned that Lei Jin had been in the room all morning without coming out.

When Moya stepped inside, he was met with a heartwarming scene—two heads resting close together, the figures on the bed, one large and one small, both fast asleep. Lei Jin lay on his side, one hand resting protectively over the baby’s swaddled form. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing them in warmth, the harmony of the moment almost too precious to disturb.

Yet Moya’s nose stung with suppressed emotion. If their own child had lived, wouldn’t it have been just like this?

That lost child wasn’t just Lei Jin’s pain—it was a knot in all their hearts that would never fully loosen.

Lei Jin was distracted during lunch. When Moya had woken him to leave, the baby had stirred too, tiny fists clutching his clothes as he cried pitifully. Normally averse to trouble, Lei Jin had nearly blurted out a request to Chunji—Let me take care of him for a couple of days. But seeing Chunji’s somber expression, he held back. After all, this wasn’t his child. He had no right to make such a request.

Xiya glanced between Lei Jin and the silent Moya, unsure what had happened. It wasn’t the time to ask, so he simply focused on his meal.

“Whose child is this?” The old man in black emerged from the medicine room, eyeing the baby in Chunji’s arms—the same one who had been crying nonstop since that female left earlier.

“Mine.” Chunji didn’t look up, still soothing the child.

“You think you can fool me? Do I look like I can’t tell whether you’ve given birth or not? Brat, do you take me for a senile old man?”

Chunji pressed his lips together stubbornly, refusing to answer.

“Not only have you never borne a child, you’ve never even taken jade mugwort, have you?” The old man sat heavily on a stool, sighing. “When I helped you escape that damned place back then, what did I tell you? To live a good life, find someone, and never go back. But ten years—ten years!” His finger trembled as he pointed at Chunji. “In all that time, you never took a liking to anyone?”

Who says I didn’t? But after waiting nearly a decade, that person never once turned to look at him.

“And now you’ve outdone yourself—stealing someone else’s child! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t steal him. I found him.” Chunji reflexively defended.

“Nonsense! Don’t tell me you didn’t know whose child this was. Even if you didn’t at first, after what happened this morning, how could you not know? Children of the werebeast tribes—whether male or female—have an instinctive bond with their papa. Babies especially can recognize their own bearer. That black-haired female and this child were clearly close. Don’t pretend you didn’t see it.”

Chunji was his own apprentice, raised by his own hands. Of course he cared for him. But that didn’t mean he could let him commit such a grave mistake, tearing a family apart.

“Master is right. It’s his child.” After a long silence, Chunji finally admitted, watching the now sleeping baby in his arms.

“Then explain everything to me.” Seeing Chunji’s admission, the old man’s expression softened slightly beneath his black hood.

The tribe knew Chunji was a skilled healer, but few were aware of one area where he was utterly inept—pregnancy and childbirth. Back when his master had taught him, Chunji had harbored an instinctive aversion to the subject, learning only half-heartedly. Fortunately, the tribe had dedicated physicians like Qing Qiao, and given Chunji’s already questionable reputation, no pregnant females sought him out anyway. He had been perfectly content with that arrangement.

So when Lei Jin had been pregnant, Chunji hadn’t hidden it—he simply hadn’t known.

It wasn’t until he encountered the banyan fruit during a herb-gathering trip that he recalled Lei Jin’s unusual condition at the time. If Lei Jin had been carrying a child, the acupuncture he’d administered would have directed the herb’s effects onto the baby. The dosage, negligible for an adult, could be devastating for a fetus—slowing its heartbeat, even inducing a temporary death-like state. That was why, despite being months along, Lei Jin had never sensed the child’s presence.

It had nothing to do with Qing Qiao’s initial diagnosis. Qing Qiao hadn’t known about the banyan fruit, so his assessment had been speculative at best.

Realizing this, Chunji had rushed back. By sheer chance, he had witnessed Moya placing the child on the hillside. Without hesitation, he had taken the baby.

The child had woken that very night, but between premature birth and the herb’s lingering effects, he was dangerously frail. For over two months, Chunji had mixed finely ground herbs into his milk fruit juice. There were moments when the baby’s suffering grew unbearable, and Chunji had nearly confessed everything to Lei Jin. But each time, he held back—not out of cowardice, but because he couldn’t bear to make Lei Jin lose the same child twice.

That kind of heartbreak… once was enough.

Especially after seeing Lei Jin lying pale and lifeless in bed that day, Chunji had wanted to strangle himself.

“If the child recovers, will you return him to them?” The old man asked, his voice steady, not commenting on anything else.

After a pause, Chunji nodded firmly. “I will.”

That had always been the plan—to heal the child and return him safely. He wanted to make up for his mistake.

“Then go call them back now. Tell them the truth.” The old man wouldn’t give Chunji room for second thoughts. Though they hadn’t seen each other in ten years, he knew his apprentice too well. That reluctance in his eyes? He still couldn’t let go.

“Master… are you certain you can heal Baby?” Chunji bit his lip, needing this one last confirmation. If the answer was yes, he would truly… let go.

The old man glared. “What do you think I’ve been locked in the medicine room doing all this time? You think I’m like you?”

Chunji huffed. “Now that’s the master I remember. Quit pretending to be all righteous.”

“You brat, complaining about me under your breath again?”

“Nooo.” Chunji pouted childishly, but inwardly, he felt a strange warmth. In the decade since the old man had left, no one had scolded him like this. As a child, he’d hated these lectures. Now, hearing them again… it wasn’t so bad.

Maybe it was time to straighten out his life—take care of this old man, live simply. No one else. Just the two of them.

“Let me keep him for two more days. After that… I’ll personally return Baby to Lei Jin.”

The old man nodded. For all his recklessness, once Chunji gave his word, he kept it.

“Baby, soon, you’ll be back with your papa. Will you still remember me?” Chunji murmured that night, pacing the room with the awake baby in his arms. Then he laughed at himself. “You’re too young. You’ll forget quickly. But… maybe that’s for the best.”

If he claimed to have no selfish feelings for this child, he’d be lying. The moment those green eyes had first opened, staring up at him, a traitorous thought had flickered through his mind—what if Lei Jin never knew this child existed?

After all, even without this one, Lei Jin could have others.

But after coming back to his senses, the thought had horrified him.

“Baby, when you go home… Roger’s going to have a heart attack seeing your eyes, huh?” The idea lightened his mood slightly. Rationally, he wanted to get along with Roger. But emotions weren’t so easily untangled.

The next day, Lei Jin returned with Mingya for another bandage change. He had meant to restrain himself, but his heart kept drifting toward the inner room. Ah, well. I’ve never been one for shame anyway.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask after the baby, Chunji spoke first.

“I’m busy here. Since you’ve got nothing to do, go watch the child.”

Lei Jin didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash, he was inside, and soon, laughter spilled from the room.

Chunji listened for a moment, then snorted. “Who cares? He’s been keeping me up all night. Good riddance—I’ll finally get some sleep.”

“Brother Chunji, what are you mumbling about?” Mingya asked. Also, you’re squeezing my injured leg.

“How about I gift you a son? Want one?” Chunji released his grip, teasing.

“No.” Mingya’s furry face was dead serious. Then, brightening, he added with a sweet smile, “Mingya only wants babies born by Lei Jin! If Lei Jin doesn’t want to, then Mingya will have his baby!”

Chunji stared speechless. This kid… just how naïve is he? Still believing that werebeats can bear children.

But that kind of unwavering devotion… once Mingya set his heart on someone, it was for life.

Lei Jin really made one envious—to have three werebeasts so utterly devoted to him.

So Lei Jin, this is fate’s way of punishing you. You’ll never go back. You’re stuck here, living as a female, bearing children.

The thought eased something in Chunji’s chest.

By tomorrow… he’ll truly be ready to let go.

But when the moment truly came, Chunji’s hands trembled as he held the child. The old man placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Master,” Chunji whispered.

Winter had passed, but the air remained chilly. The courtyard, once vibrant with summer blooms, now held only a few evergreen shrubs, their stubborn leaves clinging to life.

“Lei Jin.” Chunji called out just as Lei Jin was helping Mingya climb onto Xiya’s back.

“What’s up? Did your baby miss me again? Can’t be helped—I’m just too charming. Irresistible to all ages.” Lei Jin sauntered over, playfully nibbling the baby’s fist. “Uncle will visit tomorrow, okay? Be good for your papa.”

Chunji took a deep breath. “He’s not my child.”

“Oh? Then whose is he—mine?” Lei Jin raised a brow, joking.

That solemn look… as if he’s serious. But Chunji doted on this child like it was his own. Lei Jin wasn’t blind.

“He is yours.”

Xiya and Mingya both turned to stare.

Lei Jin froze, then scoffed. “Not funny.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“He’s the child you carried for seven months. The one you thought had died. I found him on the hillside, in the snow. Pei Ning can vouch for it.” Pei Ning was the werebeast who accompanied him while herb gathering.

Lei Jin’s expression became solemn, his tone still calm. “You’re telling the truth?”

Chunji met his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

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“Lei Jin?” Chunji’s voice cut through the haze as he peered past Xiya to where Moya cradled Lei Jin.

“What happened this time?” Chunji rubbed his temples in exasperation. Of the ten times he’d seen Lei Jin, eight involved injuries.

“Chunji, please check Mingya and Lei Jin. Both are hurt,” Xiya said, still in his golden leopard form after carrying Mingya’s massive beast body back to the tribe.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

The strange old man in black robes chuckled. “Still don’t trust me? I told you they’re fine.”

“Wrapped up like a weirdo, who’d trust you? I almost didn’t recognize you.” Chunji dragged a stool over for him. “This damn old man may be useless otherwise, but his medical skills are reliable.”

“As expected, you know me well, brat.”

“You’re sure they’re okay?” Chunji still asked in a whisper, unable to hide his concern.

The old man’s smug expression vanished, replaced by irritation from Chunji’s words. He huffed, “The female just needs rest. As for the young werebeast—he’ll keep his life, but lose a leg. That’s more than they deserve for venturing where they shouldn’t.”

“Mingya’s leg?” Lei Jin’s vision swam at the words. He struggled free of Moya’s hold.

“I warned you—that place is cursed. Surviving was luck enough.”

“But you said you could save him!” Xiya protested.

“I said I’d save his life, not his leg.” The old man rolled his eyes at their gloomy faces. Ungrateful whelps. That female could barely stand yet still putting on a strong front for who knows what.

Chunji wordlessly peeled the herbs from Mingya’s wounds and his brows immediately furrowed. “You finally went to the forbidden area? And took Mingya with you?”

Under Chunji’s fierce glare, Lei Jin nodded.

“You actually gathered all three black jade stones?” Chunji had been certain Lei Jin couldn’t find the key stones to open the Door of Reincarnation. Originally eight circular jades, four had been taken away, leaving four on this continent—each split into three pieces scattered among twelve tribes. To open the door required not just any three pieces, but three from the same original jade. The difficulty was unimaginable. Or perhaps, Lei Jin only went there but didn’t manage to open the door…

“He opened it,” the old man interjected, knowing what Chunji was pondering.

“Then why—” Chunji meant why was Lei Jin still here? After being so desperate to leave.

“How should I know?”

“Chunji, Mingya’s injury—” Lei Jin cut in. He didn’t understand how Chunji knew about the jades—even Roger had only speculated—but Mingya’s leg mattered more.

Chunji’s anger softened at his anxious concern. He could only sigh helplessly. “Remember when I warned you never to go there?”

Lei Jin did—back when he was recovering. But he could think of nothing but leaving back then so he’d ignored the advice.

“Taking Mingya there was practically sending him to die.” Chunji examined the wounds. “I can’t explain fully, but those creatures you met? The half-human, half-beast monsters? They are the werebeasts who went missing from various tribes.”

Lei Jin recoiled. Those horrors—former werebeasts? Even Xiya and Moya, who’d fought them, looked stunned.

“Mingya was bitten. To survive, one either stays in the forbidden area as a mindless monster or return to die. Without my master, even I couldn’t have saved him. Be grateful he’s alive—this is no exaggeration.”

Silence fell.

The old man opened his mouth, but Chunji silenced him with a glare.

A baby’s cry shattered the quiet.

Chunji groaned. “I forgot about this little terror. Damn old man, come check him.”

“Chunji, is there really no hope for Mingya’s leg?” Lei Jin ignored the pang the cries evoked.

“Full recovery? Impossible. But I’ll try to get him healed to the point he can walk.”

“That’s enough.” More would be greed.

Lei Jin had never seen Roger cry before—silent sobs that spoke volumes. Yet Roger never blamed him. Neither did An Sen or An Luo. They even spoke words of comfort to him.

With Mingya still asleep and Xiya and Moya distant, Lei Jin wondered if he still belonged here. He’d grown too comfortable in this home that wasn’t truly his. But with Mingya injured, leaving wasn’t an option.

He sat by Mingya’s bed, kissing his eyelids. “If you can’t walk, I’ll feed you. I can hunt, gather, farm—maybe even build a house for us. So wake up soon.”

“Then you’re really staying?” Mingya’s whisper startled him.

Lei Jin’s heart leaped. “You’re awake!”

Mingya’s blue eyes fluttered open, drowsy but clear. “You won’t leave? You’ll stay with Mingya?”

“Yes. When did you wake?”

“When you said you’d build us a house.”

“Convenient timing.” Lei Jin ruffled the fur on his belly.

“What about Eldest Brother and Second Brother?” Mingya asked timidly. Lei Jin hadn’t mentioned elder brother and second brother earlier.

“Them? We’ll see.” Lei Jin yawned, carefully shifting Mingya aside to climb in. “Sleep now. Tomorrow, we’ll change your bandages at Chunji’s.”

“En.” Mingya curled a paw around Lei Jin’s waist, pretending to be cool about it.

Lei Jin turned onto his side but didn’t protest.

Mingya’s heart soared. He lets me touch him now! And we even sleep together!

As for Xiya and Moya… Lei Jin gazed into the dark. He’d wronged them first. Their coldness was deserved. But with Mingya like this, he couldn’t leave. If reconciling meant accepting all three… Could he really do that?

Lei Jin closed his eyes and thought for a while. The loneliness and coldness of being alone in the dream came to his mind again. Forget it. Maybe he would have considered it for a long time before, but after waking up, he understood a lot. In fact, many things were not as important as he imagined. Compared with loss, it was more important for everyone to be happy together. He liked Moya, and he knew this. As for Xiya, the feelings were much more complicated. He couldn’t explain it clearly, but he knew it was hard to give up. Such a handsome and smart person, it was rare to be confused. Let’s just live like this in this life. Lei Jin was very good at comforting himself.

But first, he wanted his own house—a place no one could take from him. Not that he distrusted them, but equal standing mattered. He might not be able to compare to them physically, but he wanted them to know that without them he could still do well on his own.

Content with this decision, Lei Jin slept.

“You can still sleep? Guess we weren’t obvious enough. Once things are less busy, see if we don’t punish you.” Xiya began fiercely, but towards the end actually started smiling. Being mean to this person? Even he didn’t believe it. But there was still a way for everyone to be happy and punish Lei Jin at the same time, a wicked grin appeared on Xiya’s face.

“How about we do you until you can’t even get out of bed. See if you can run then?” He nipped Lei Jin’s nose.

“Brother? What are you doing?” Moya stood in the doorway, looking at Xiya’s weird crouching position by the bed.

“Oh, I came to see if the two of them kicked the blanket.” Xiya was caught by his own brother. He looked embarrassed and scratched his head to cover up. After thinking for a while, he came up with this excuse on the spur of the moment.

In order to show that this was the case, Xiya actually pressed down the corner of the blanket. He was the one who had vowed to Moya that he would never forgive Lei Jin easily when he came back. He didn’t expect that he would turn out to be first in being unable to help himself. He was determined not to let Moya know, otherwise how could he maintain his image as the eldest brother?

“So that’s how it is.” Moya nodded seriously.

“Okay, it’s getting late, let’s go to bed early.” Xiya came over, and when he passed by Moya, he patted his shoulders in a friendly manner.

“Brother.” Moya suddenly called out behind him.

“En? What is it?” Xiya turned around.

“I just wanted to say, your idea isn’t bad.” Moya’s eyes sparkled with rare amusement.

Xiya grinded his teeth subtly. This little brother was not cute at all. Did he have to reveal that he had overheard?

Chunji only had a single bed and those lovers of his didn’t even get a chance to touch it, let alone Mingya. But daily wound care required hours, so Xiya and Moya took turns carrying him over and back. Lei Jin always stayed with Mingya.

The treatments were agonizing. Mingya teared up but forced smiles for Lei Jin.

“Stop grinning. It’s ugly.” Lei Jin left to wander the yard. Just when he was bored, he heard the baby. He called, “Chunji, I’ll play with your son.”

Before Chunji could respond, Lei Jin darted inside.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Lei Jin, this guy, is he asking me or informing me?” Chunji muttered in annoyance, but he looked into the house worriedly.

When Lei Jin leaned over, he was met with a pair of large emerald green eyes. The owner of the eyes was sucking his fingers in a serious manner, seeming to be having a lot of fun. However, when he saw Lei Jin, he opened his mouth and started to wail loudly, as if he had been bullied and felt extremely aggrieved.

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