Though he said otherwise, when Lei Jin thought about the possibility of them one day truly falling for someone else, he couldn’t help but feel a little off. Still, he knew he couldn’t be selfish—clearly planning to leave, yet stubbornly occupying a place that wasn’t his. No matter how you put it, that was shameless. He wanted to let go, but he just couldn’t help being a tiny bit reluctant. Lei Jin swore, it was really just a little—only about as much as the tip of his pinky.

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

Mingya was still clinging to his legs, whining and acting cute. “Lei Jin, when are you coming home? Mingya misses you so much at night.”

Chunji walked in right on cue, carrying his little medicine box. He looked a little tired, but as usual, he had that teasing smile hanging on his lips. “I just stepped out for a bit, and you two are already all lovey-dovey. Little Mingya even knows how to want someone at night now?”

Lei Jin was about to say: Chunji, stop talking nonsense. He’s just a kid. What would he know?

But before he could speak, Mingya puffed up his chest and stood with conviction, saying seriously, “Lei Jin is my female. Mingya wants to sleep holding him.”

Lei Jin’s face darkened. He held it in—again and again—but finally, his patience ran dry. He lifted his leg and firmly nudged Mingya into the corner.

Chunji chuckled, but when he met Mingya’s dewy eyes, he awkwardly scratched his nose and refrained from teasing further.

“What happened?” Lei Jin asked casually. Judging by the situation, things must’ve gotten serious for them to call on Chunji.

“They were building a house at Qi Luo’s place and someone got bitten by a blue shell bug. It wasn’t just him, but he was hit the worst—nearly died. Luckily they found out in time,” Chunji explained, placing the medicine box in his storage room and splashing his face with water to freshen up.

“Building a house at Qi Luo’s?” Lei Jin raised an eyebrow. Qi Luo was Xiya’s neighbor—he knew that. But wasn’t their house just fine? Why build a new one?

“You’ve been gone a while, so maybe you didn’t hear. Qi Luo and Jia He are holding their bonding ceremony. They need a new house before that, right, Mingya?” Chunji glanced toward the little one who was looking quite pitiful sulking in the corner.

“Yeah, it’s really close to our place,” Mingya piped up, bouncing over happily since someone was finally paying attention to him. He muttered under his breath, “Elder Brother and Second Brother are helping too.”

Lei Jin frowned. After a pause, he asked Chunji, “You saw those two? They’re okay?”

Chunji nodded toward a big package by the window. “Ran into Xiya on the way. They were short on hands today, so they rushed over to help. He asked me to bring the stuff here.”

“Oh right—what’s the bonding ceremony like here?” Now that he knew they were fine, Lei Jin moved on to a question he’d been curious about.

He knew the ceremony here was like a wedding in his world—a public declaration that they were officially mates—but the details? He’d never cared to ask before. Now, he kind of wanted to know.

Chunji only smiled mysteriously and dodged the question. “You’ll see when the time comes.” After all, if he scared Lei Jin off, he wouldn’t be able to take responsibility for that.

Lei Jin shot him a glare. “What’s there to keep secret?”

Mingya, wanting to be helpful, tried to explain, but even he didn’t know much. He scratched his head and said, “There’s a lake where it happens.” Beyond that, he had no clue.

Lei Jin thought, You might as well have said nothing. A lake? That tells me absolutely zero. But when he saw the little guy’s expectant eyes, he still forced himself to praise him.

Because of the busy preparations at Qi Luo’s house, Xiya and Moya only dropped off supplies briefly the next few days before rushing off again. Mingya, on the other hand, continued delivering flowers every day, rain or shine.

Lei Jin had tried to pick the flowers himself once, but the branches were too tough. He ended up with hands full of thorns and blood. Mingya cried an entire day over it, sobbing like his tears were free. Lei Jin honestly thought he’d died or something, seeing how devastated the little guy looked.

In the end, he had to promise Mingya he wouldn’t go again and told him to switch to human form when picking flowers—stop biting everything. Mingya agreed… but every time he got anxious, he forgot. More than once he came back with a mouth full of little cuts. Lei Jin couldn’t bring himself to discipline him like before. All he could do was step back, over and over again—indulge, and indulge again. Which led to this: when they were alone, Mingya would curl up and nap right on his lap.

Lei Jin didn’t mind the weight—it wasn’t much—but today… he didn’t know what to do. His expression was full of quiet suffering. He twitched his mouth, desperately wanting to yell: Chunji, for the love of—can you lower your damn voice? If you keep moaning like that, my little brother’s gonna stand at attention!

Over time, living with Chunji, Lei Jin had realized his lifestyle wasn’t quite as wild as outsiders believed. To be fair, he only had about two or three regular partners. Most of the others just dropped off stuff to exchange for herbs and left in a flash—sometimes without even sitting down, like they were being chased.

Still… two or three partners was nothing to scoff at. And today, Chunji went for a two-on-one.

Lei Jin sat there stiffly, hearing Chunji moaning louder and louder in the yard, accompanied by low werebeast growls of satisfaction. He was not okay.

There’s still a living person in this house, please… I’m begging you—tone it down! The more he tried not to hear it, the more the sounds seemed to echo right in his ears. Worse, it made him think of that time with Xiya and Moya in the cave. Even with his eyes covered, his body had felt everything. The more he tried to forget, the clearer it all became. He could even remember the dull ache of being stretched open…

I’m done for, Lei Jin groaned internally. It’s up. The worst part? Just the thought of being on the bottom again made him hard. All that time insisting he was only submissive because he was forced—and now this? His expression darkened completely.

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

But the final blow hadn’t come yet.

Still half-asleep, Mingya stirred, rubbed his eyes, and sat up drowsily. With innocent confusion, he said, “Something’s poking my head.” Then that fluffy little paw gave the bulge a good press.

TN: Lei Jin: …I’m. F*ing. Doomed.

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The solar eclipse came and went quickly, lasting only two or three minutes. By the time the sky brightened again, the sweat on Moya’s forehead hadn’t even dried.  

Bathed in sunlight, a flash of dazzling gold appeared at the doorway. Lei Jin naturally knew who it was, but since the other didn’t step forward, he didn’t call out either.  

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

Lei Jin looked up to find Moya still staring at him, the worry in his emerald-green eyes not yet fully dissipated. These three brothers were truly the trials fate had sent him. Back in his world, a fortune-teller had once told him he would face a major crisis at twenty-eight. He’d been cautious this year, never expecting the calamity to manifest in this way.  

“I’m fine,” Lei Jin sighed inwardly, returning the grip of Moya’s hand. A solar eclipse was nothing unusual to him—just a natural phenomenon. But for the people here, it must have been unsettling, judging by the commotion in the streets earlier. Thankfully, things had quieted down now.  

“Didn’t Roger tell you about this?” Lei Jin asked.  

“He did, but we’ve never actually seen one before.” Even if they knew the science behind it, without Lei Jin by their side, they couldn’t help but worry.  

“I’m fine now. You can go back,” Lei Jin said abruptly.  

Moya didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. After not seeing Lei Jin for over a month—only hearing his voice occasionally—being dismissed so soon was hard to accept.  

Still, seeing Lei Jin’s improved complexion and the slight plumpness in his cheeks, Moya felt somewhat reassured. He had asked Chunji for daily updates, but now that he’d seen Lei Jin in person, he wanted to confirm his recovery firsthand. However, Lei Jin had already closed his eyes and settled back into the chair. Moya gently stroked his hair, his touch unconsciously tender.  

“Once your arms are better, we’ll take you home. Whether or not we have a child, we’ll stay together,” Moya whispered, leaning close to Lei Jin’s ear.  

Lei Jin didn’t respond, but the slight flutter of his eyelashes told Moya he’d heard.  

Only after Moya left the courtyard did Lei Jin open his eyes again.  

Chunji had kept his back turned the entire time. Lei Jin knew he wasn’t the type to tactfully give others privacy—he was probably still shaken by An Bu’s earlier visit.  

Lei Jin had considered asking Moya if he knew about Roger and An Bu’s past, but at the last moment, he swallowed the question. No matter how tangled the situation was, whether Moya knew or not, Lei Jin didn’t want him caught in the middle and hurt.  

“I’ll make lunch. Let’s see how good those sweet bean sauce dishes you mentioned really are,” Chunji muttered, his voice thick with unshed tears. He must have cried during the darkness earlier.  

Compared to Chunji, Lei Jin considered himself lucky. At least he had people he could talk to. Regardless of their motives, those two had treated him well. Unlike Chunji, who had no one to turn to even when wronged.  

Chunji poured lard into the pan, stir-fried shredded meat with sweet bean sauce as Lei Jin had instructed, and finished it with a sprinkle of chopped scallions. He tasted it first—slightly sweet, balanced by the scallions’ freshness. Not bad at all.  

Truthfully, Chunji’s homemade sweet bean sauce wasn’t perfect. The wheat flour here was stone-ground and full of impurities, giving it a coarse texture. But it had a rich, nutty aroma, and Lei Jin couldn’t complain—he wouldn’t have done better himself.  

Now in the second phase of treatment, Chunji brought a large yellow flower every morning, its petals still dewy. He mashed it into a paste, strained out the residue, and applied the thick yellow liquid to Lei Jin’s arms twice daily. The cool sensation wasn’t unpleasant, and most importantly, Lei Jin could feel himself improving day by day, which lifted his spirits and appetite.  

But one thing puzzled him: Chunji always rose at the same time as him, so when did he gather these flowers? They weren’t from the yard, yet they were always fresh, as if just picked.  

One morning, a villager fell seriously ill, and his family came begging for Chunji’s help before dawn. Though Chunji acted annoyed, he eventually went.  

The disturbance left Lei Jin unable to sleep, so he sat by the window, waiting for Chunji’s return. The soft trickle of sand in the hourglass filled the quiet, though Lei Jin still couldn’t read it well enough to tell time. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten.  

A small white figure slipped into the yard, a yellow flower clamped in their mouth. Standing on their hind legs, they tried to place the flower on the stone table but was too short. After several failed attempts, they finally succeeded.  

Seeming to think it was still early, the little creature crouched by the door, ears twitching, before reluctantly turning to leave.  

“Mingya.” Lei Jin pushed the door open and called out. So it had been this little dummy all along.  

Hearing Lei Jin’s voice, Mingya—who had already scampered to the gate—turned and bounded back joyfully, wagging his tail. He nuzzled and rubbed against Lei Jin’s legs, his affection unmistakable.  

“Lei Jin, do your arms still hurt?” Mingya’s big blue eyes shone with happiness.  

But when he spoke, Lei Jin noticed blood in his mouth.  

Afraid he might be mistaken, Lei Jin said, “Mingya, open your mouth and let me see.”  

Obedient as always, Mingya immediately obeyed—but then snapped his jaws shut and covered his mouth with his paws.  

Still, Lei Jin had seen enough: fresh cuts on his tongue and the corners of his mouth, some still bleeding.  

“Mingya, did someone in the tribe bully you?” Lei Jin’s expression darkened. He might bully the little guy himself, but no one else was allowed to.  

Lei Jin was notoriously protective—a flaw he couldn’t correct.

Mingya shook his head vigorously, mumbling behind his paws, “No, no one bullied Mingya.”  

“Then how did you get hurt?” Lei Jin thought Mingya was afraid to tell the truth.  

“No hurts,” Mingya insisted, backing away cautiously when he saw Lei Jin’s frown.  

“Come here,” Lei Jin ordered. The little guy was blatantly lying. If he could lie this young, what would he be like later?  

Lei Jin conveniently ignored his own history of far more elaborate lies.

“Don’t hit Mingya,” the little leopard bargained.  

“Just come here first.” Since when had he learned to negotiate?  

“Okay.” Mingya was used to obeying Lei Jin. His earlier defiance had taken all his courage and couldn’t last. Seeing no signs of anger, he inched forward tentatively.  

Lei Jin almost laughed at his antics. He didn’t recall beating Mingya often—why was the little guy so scared?  

Then his gaze fell on the flower on the table. He’d only seen the soft, fragrant petals before—never the stem. Thick as a finger, it was covered in coarse black thorns, and even the leaf edges were serrated like saw blades.  

Lei Jin reached out to touch it, and a sharp edge sliced his fingertip open. Blood welled up instantly.  

“Lei Jin, your hand is bleeding!” Mingya forgot all about avoiding punishment, rushing over to lick the wound.  

“Enough.” Lei Jin pulled his finger back.  

“Did you hurt your mouth picking these flowers?” He crouched to meet Mingya’s eyes.  

“Mingya wants Lei Jin to get better faster,” the little leopard admitted, resting his head trustingly on Lei Jin’s shoulder.  

“How did you know I needed these flowers?” Lei Jin didn’t push him away.  

“Mingya couldn’t sleep and came to see you. Saw Chunji picking them. He told Mingya.”  

Mingya’s fur was damp and cool against Lei Jin’s neck, a bit uncomfortable.  

“Do you always go this early?” The sun still hadn’t risen.  

“Mingya goes at midnight. Chunji says these flowers bloom after midnight and wilt by dawn.”  

(He didn’t push Mingya away! So happy! Lei Jin’s scent was the best.)  

Lei Jin finally understood why Mingya was drenched in dew.  

Then, as if drawn in, Mingya cautiously licked Lei Jin’s neck.  

“What are you doing, Mingya?” Lei Jin jerked back, sending the unsuspecting leopard tumbling onto his back.  

Mingya lay there stunned, staring up at Lei Jin in confusion.  

“Get up. What are you doing on the ground?” Lei Jin felt oddly guilty under that innocent gaze.  

“You don’t want Mingya anymore. You only like Elder Brother and Second Brother. You don’t like Mingya at all.” The little leopard rolled over, presenting his rear to Lei Jin.  

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Lei Jin frowned.  

“You think Mingya is annoying. You treat Mingya like a kid. You won’t be Mingya’s mate. You hate Mingya more and more.” The grievances poured out.  

Lei Jin’s head throbbed. He adored Mingya, no question—but taking things further? He wasn’t a pedophile.  

(Though, to be fair, Mingya was a teenager, not a child.)  

Seeing the blood still fresh on the flower’s stem, Lei Jin couldn’t bring himself to scold him. He softened his tone. “Mingya, I don’t hate you. Come inside, and we’ll find some medicine for your mouth.”  

“You don’t hate Mingya?” The leopard perked up.  

“No.”  

“You won’t leave Mingya?”  

“No.”  

“You won’t only want Elder Brother and Second brother?”  

“No.”  

The Q&A session continued as they went inside. Lei Jin mustered extraordinary patience to reassure Mingya he wouldn’t be abandoned. But after searching the room, he found no hemostatic medicine. Chunji’s medicine room was off-limits, and even if he sneaked in, Lei Jin wouldn’t recognize the right bottles.  

“Mingya doesn’t like medicine. Tastes bad. The blood will stop soon,” the little leopard offered, seeing Lei Jin’s worry.  

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Lei Jin wasn’t convinced.  

“Papa has medicine.” Mingya nuzzled Lei Jin’s leg.  

“Then go back and have Roger treat you.” Lei Jin looked down at him, helpless. This little thing had him wrapped around his paw. If Mingya ever learned to weaponize his cuteness, Lei Jin was doomed.  

Mingya nodded obediently.  

“By the way, where’s Berg lately?” The merfolk had visited often before, always bickering with Chunji yet returning for more. Compared to them, Lei Jin considered himself a model of good temper.  

(The lack of self-awareness was tragic.)  

“His belly keeps getting rounder. He stays inside all day.” Mingya paused, then whispered, “Papa says he’s going to have a baby soon.” He wasn’t supposed to tell outsiders, but Lei Jin wasn’t an outsider. Mingya knew the difference.

“That fast?” Lei Jin murmured. He remembered Berg saying merfolk pregnancies lasted six months. It had only been four.  

Unaware of Lei Jin’s thoughts, Mingya suddenly remembered his brothers’ instructions.  

“Oh! Elder Brother said they didn’t give you the jade mugwort. Jing Yue did.”  

Throwing others under the bus to save oneself—Xiya might not know the phrase, but he’d mastered the art.

Lei Jin had already figured this out. After recalling his symptoms post-recovery at the Tiger Tribe, he’d asked Chunji about the effects of jade mugwort. The pieces fell into place.  

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

What angered him was Xiya and Moya’s deliberate concealment—their attempt to trap him with a pregnancy. He loathed being forced.  

And then there was the matter of feelings. In bed, he was confident. But emotions? He had no certainty. He wanted to know, if he truly couldn’t bear children, would their love remain? If they couldn’t let go of wanting offspring, it was better to part now. They could find another mate. He could focus on going home.

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Another dozen days passed like this. The numbness and tingling in Lei Jin’s arms intensified, and he thought it might be time to start moving it slightly. However, Chunji had specifically warned him not to move it unnecessarily. Although Lei Jin was anxious to recover quickly, he also understood the old saying: “A hundred days to heal a broken bone.” Rushing things wouldn’t help. Being able to recover to this extent in just a month was already a stroke of luck amidst misfortune.

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

Chunji said today would be the last acupuncture session. After this, the treatment would mainly involve applying medicine and massage, with long-term recuperation being the most crucial part. Lei Jin understood this, but he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to wait that long. Still, for now, he had no choice but to take things one step at a time.

Even though he had undergone acupuncture many times, Lei Jin still felt a chill every time he saw the bone needles in Chunji’s hands. The rows of fine needles were wrapped in white cotton cloth, the longest being only about ten centimeters. They were pitch black, and according to Chunji, they were made from the bones of a certain animal.

“Lie still. Don’t move,” Chunji said, already holding a needle in his hand. At this moment, he was uncharacteristically serious, with none of the usual sarcastic smiles on his lips.

“Chunji, these needles won’t suddenly break, will they?” Lei Jin asked casually, though everyone knew that bones could become brittle over time. If one broke inside his body, it would be a disaster.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late to ask that now?” Chunji tapped Lei Jin’s waist.

“It is a bit late, but better late than dying without knowing why,” Lei Jin admitted openly, his body twitching slightly. His waist was a sensitive spot, after all.

“Do you know what animal these bones are from?” Chunji asked as he inserted two needles into the acupuncture points.

“How would I know if you don’t tell me?” Lei Jin replied. Lately, lying on his stomach had been making him feel uncomfortable.

“In the deepest parts of the ocean, there’s a fish called the blind butterfly fish. They have flat bodies with large butterfly-like fins, no eyes, and bones that can withstand the immense pressure of the deep sea. As far as I know, these are the hardest bones that exist. Do you think they’ll break?”

“Chunji, you really seem to know a lot, even about things in the deepest parts of the ocean,” Lei Jin remarked. Unlike the modern world with its advanced media, the werebeasts here only had a vague understanding of the outside world. But Chunji was different. When he talked about something, it was as if he had seen it himself or at least knew it very well. It was hard not to be suspicious.

And then there was Chunji’s medical skills. Although Lei Jin hadn’t met many doctors, he had interacted with Qing Qiao from the Leopard Tribe and Mu Yue from the Tiger Tribe. Their skills were decent, but compared to Chunji, it was like comparing a bicycle to a train.

Chunji paused for a moment, then said fiercely, “If you keep talking nonsense, I might stick the needle in the wrong place. If you end up crippled or dead, don’t blame me.”

“That’s harsh,” Lei Jin muttered, not daring to provoke him further. He quickly changed the subject to distract himself. “When will I be able to move my arms a bit? It’s been so long, they feel like they belong to someone else.”

“After this session, you can start trying to move them slowly. After another month of applying medicine, you should be able to eat on your own,” Chunji said, washing his hands in a basin after finishing the acupuncture.

“En,” Lei Jin replied, closing his eyes.

The grassland was a bit chilly this time of year, especially in the morning. Chunji’s yard was full of trees, and the wind rustled through the leaves, creating a soothing sound.

Hearing movement in the yard, Lei Jin perked up his ears.

Chunji pretended not to notice, leisurely drying his hands one finger at a time. To an outsider, it might look like he was handling a priceless treasure rather than just his hands. Was it really necessary?

Finally, when Lei Jin couldn’t help but glance at him, Chunji put down the cloth and said, “I’ll go see who it is today.”

Chunji stepped out of the house in a good mood, ready to tease whoever had come.

However, his good mood only lasted until he saw the tall figure standing in the yard with his back to him. Chunji’s eyes reddened slightly, but his expression turned cold. He spoke first, “What brings the clan leader to my humble home?”

An Bu turned around, his demeanor calm and gentle. He smiled and said, “It’s been a while, Chunji.”

“You’re so busy, Clan Leader. How could I dare disturb you?” Chunji stood his ground, not taking a single step forward.

“I remember planting these rain blossoms myself years ago. It’s been a few years since I last came, and now the yard is full of them,” An Bu said, looking at Chunji, who was as prickly as a little hedgehog. He smiled indulgently, just like in the past. Chunji hadn’t changed at all—still quick to lash out at anyone.

“My place isn’t worthy of your presence, Clan Leader,” Chunji said, his expression softening slightly at the mention of the past but quickly turning cold again as he remembered these past years of hardship.

“Oh Chunji, my child…” An Bu frowned, not knowing what to say.

“I’m not your child. Moya is. He’s the precious one you had with Roger. As long as it’s Roger’s child, even if it’s not yours, you still love them, don’t you? Should I call you Uncle An Bu again?”

Chunji’s voice rose in agitation, and even Lei Jin inside the room could hear him clearly. Lei Jin was shocked. He had always sensed that there was something complicated between An Bu and Roger, but he never imagined that Moya was their child. What was going on?

Chunji continued to rant, but Lei Jin was stunned by another realization. If Moya was Roger’s child, what about Xiya and Mingya? Were they also Roger’s children? Did that mean Roger had given birth to three children in this world? Had his body been altered too? Was it forced, or did he agree to it? Was that why Roger couldn’t leave, even with the map? Was it because of the children?

Should Lei Jin feel a sense of relief that he couldn’t have children otherwise, he might have ended up like Roger. Imagining that one day he might walk around with a bulging belly like a penguin, the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

By now, the conversation between Chunji and An Bu had moved on.

Lei Jin only heard Chunji let out a cold snort and say, “I knew it. You’d never come to see me unless you had a reason. You’re here to check on your son’s mate, aren’t you? How laughable. Do you think anyone appreciates your sneaky concern? Roger? Moya?”

There was a long silence, and Lei Jin thought An Bu had left. But then An Bu’s voice came again, “How is he recovering?”

“He’s not dead,” Chunji snapped, then added, “But he can’t have children. If you’re so capable, why don’t you find another mate for Moya?”

“He won’t do that. Roger raised him well. He’s not that heartless,” An Bu said with certainty.

“Roger is the best, perfect in every way. But he’ll never be yours. You’ll never have him,” Chunji said with a malicious smile. After all these years, this man still couldn’t let go. But then again, he wasn’t the only one.

“Chunji, it’s time to remove the needles,” Lei Jin called out, checking the hourglass in the corner. He estimated the time was up and didn’t care what was happening outside.

An Bu said something else, but Lei Jin couldn’t make it out. Whatever it was, Chunji didn’t like it, because the next moment, Lei Jin heard the sound of a chair being smashed in the yard.

“Get out! I don’t need you meddling in my affairs!” Chunji shouted hoarsely.

The sound of the courtyard gate opening and closing signaled An Bu’s departure, and the yard fell silent again.

Chunji stood in the shadows by the door for a while, rubbing his eyes before finally turning back to the house.

Knowing Chunji was in a bad mood, Lei Jin decided to try to cheer him up. “Chunji, didn’t you make that sweet bean sauce? It’s great for cooking. I happen to know a few recipes. How about we try them for lunch today?” He knew Chunji was passionate about medicine and food, and he hoped this would distract him.

“More like you’re the one who’s got a craving, ordering me to cook for you. You’ve gained weight lately. Shouldn’t you be eating less?” Chunji’s voice was still unsteady, but he removed the needles as deftly as ever.

“Sharing is caring,” Lei Jin said with a smile after the needles were out, sitting up with Chunji’s help.

“Sit for a while. I’ll clean up outside, and then we can go sunbathe in the yard.”

Lei Jin knew Chunji was probably cleaning up the broken chair. Since Chunji didn’t bring it up, Lei Jin didn’t ask. They both tacitly agreed to act as if nothing had happened, even though Lei Jin was burning with curiosity, especially since it involved Moya. Did Moya even know about this?

Chunji helped Lei Jin outside. The sun was shining brightly today, casting small spots of light through the leaves. At first, they were round, but gradually, they were eroded, turning into half-moons and crescents as the sky darkened.

Then the streets erupted into chaos—shouts, barks, and the clanging of various objects. It was too noisy for Lei Jin to make out what they were saying.

Chunji, who had been drying herbs on a flat rooftop, glanced outside but showed no sign of panic. He climbed down the ladder and, seeing Lei Jin still calm, said, “You probably know this too, right? It’s a natural phenomenon.”

The sky grew darker, and Lei Jin could barely see Chunji standing opposite him. “Yes, a solar eclipse,” Lei Jin replied. He had seen one in the modern world, but he never expected to witness one here.

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

Soon, the yard was pitch black, so dark that Lei Jin couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. Suddenly, the courtyard gate creaked open. Lei Jin tensed, though he knew the people here were generally good-natured. Still, there was always the possibility of someone taking advantage of the darkness.

But the moment he was pulled into an embrace, Lei Jin couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief, though he hated to admit it.

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“Moya is here. Still not seeing him?” Chunji stood by the window, glancing at the figure entering the courtyard, then turned to ask Lei Jin, who was still lying on the bed.

“No.” Lei Jin didn’t know what to say if they met. It was better not to see him. He didn’t want to hear any explanations now. All he wanted was for his arms to heal quickly and to escape all of this.

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

“How many days has it been?” Chunji picked up a bamboo pole from the corner and propped the window open.

The sudden burst of sunlight made Lei Jin squint. How many days had it been? Today was the seventeenth day, right? He frowned in frustration, annoyed that he remembered it so clearly.

He had been staying at Chunji’s place these days. Roger, Moya, Mingya, and even Berg had come once. Only Xiya was missing. Everyone probably wanted to know what he was thinking, but Lei Jin himself didn’t know, so how could he explain it to others? Relying on others to survive—despite forcing himself to accept this reality many times, he found it increasingly difficult. The incident with the drug had shattered the rare trust he had given, but he knew it was just a catalyst, bringing to light the underlying conflicts that had always existed. What he couldn’t adapt to was the role he was forced to play in this world. In modern society, he wasn’t exactly a powerhouse, but he had his own domain where he was the undisputed leader, with many people depending on him to survive. But here? He was just a weak female, constantly being overpowered, and now even expected to bear children. What a joke. How had he fallen to this point? Was he supposed to cheer and be happy about it?

Regardless of their ultimate goal in drugging him—whether it was to keep him here or simply to have a child—he had no intention of cooperating. There was no need for him to play along.

“He stood in the courtyard for a while, left some things, and then left. I’ll go see what it is today.” Chunji was always eager to check the daily offerings, which were never the same. He was curious, but Lei Jin never even glanced at them.

Lei Jin watched as Chunji hurried out the door. Despite feeling stiff, he didn’t dare move because his body was still covered in bone needles.

When Chunji first mentioned acupuncture, Lei Jin had been startled and secretly wondered if Chunji was also from the modern world. Given Chunji’s mysterious background—no one in the tribe knew where he came from—Lei Jin had his suspicions. But after several tests, he realized he was probably overthinking it.

Chunji’s medical skills, however, were even better than rumored. Even in modern society, with such severe injuries and a delay of over two months, treatment would have been difficult. But with Chunji’s daily acupuncture and herbal remedies, Lei Jin’s arms had started to regain some sensation after just ten days. It was a faint, tingling feeling, but it was hope nonetheless.

“Lei Jin, today it’s wild ducks. I’ll cook them for lunch. Let me know if you hear me,” Chunji called into the room, picking up the three wild ducks on the table and weighing them in his hand. They were quite heavy.

“Got it.” Lei Jin hadn’t realized before how chatty Chunji was. He always demanded a response, but as Lei Jin was living under his roof he had no choice but to comply.

“I knew you hadn’t left,” Chunji said, pulling open the courtyard gate and leaning against the doorframe with a smile, deliberately lowering his voice.

“How is he today?” Moya was still standing outside the wall, unable to resist glancing toward the window of the room where Lei Jin was staying, though he couldn’t see anything.

“Which part are you asking about? If it’s his body, with me here, of course, he’s fine. You heard him just now.”

Moya nodded. Indeed, Lei Jin’s voice had sounded strong.

“As for his mood, that’s beyond my ability to fix. But since you’ve already done what you did, you should be prepared to face the consequences.” Chunji had initially wanted nothing to do with this mess, but seeing Moya and the others moping around was ruining his appetite. Lately, he could only eat one wild chicken and two and a half flatbreads per meal, a full half-flatbread less than before.

Meanwhile, Lei Jin, with nothing to do all day, had been eating more and more. He’d start yelling about being hungry before mealtime even arrived. After the acupuncture sessions, Chunji had to brew medicine and then cook, leaving him no time to relax. He was practically suffocating. So, when Moya and the others brought gifts, Chunji accepted them without hesitation, considering them compensation for his efforts. After all, Lei Jin was eating more than he was.

“There’s a misunderstanding. We didn’t give him the jade mugwort. We’ll explain it to him later,” Moya said hesitantly.

“You may not have done it, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t think about it. Lei Jin probably knows that too.” But judging by Lei Jin’s current state, it was clear he was hesitating, wavering. If he were truly angry and wanted to cut ties, he would have said so outright. Why all this avoidance instead?

Moya understood that things could be worse. At least Lei Jin hadn’t explicitly ended their relationship. He wanted to see Lei Jin, but he was also afraid of facing him.

“He doesn’t like eating meat every day. There are some vegetables and wild fruits in the other bag. Try to get him to eat more. He loves mushrooms…” Moya changed the subject to something safer.

“Stop. What do you think this place is? I’m treating him and giving him food to keep him from starving. That’s enough. I don’t have time for all these details,” Chunji snapped, his blond eyebrows furrowing.

“Thank you for taking care of him. We appreciate it,” Moya said sincerely, his calm eyes showing no offense at Chunji’s words.

“I hate your eyes—they’re just like Roger’s. But they also remind me of him,” Chunji muttered, staring at Moya’s dark green eyes.

Though Chunji’s voice was low, Moya heard him clearly. He frowned slightly but said nothing.

For lunch, Chunji prepared two wild ducks, coating them in honey and stuffing them with wild fruits, mushrooms, and vegetables before roasting them. The two of them each ate a whole duck, leaving nothing behind. By the end, their stomachs were round and full.

“If only we had some shredded scallions, thin pancakes, and sweet bean sauce,” Lei Jin said, lying back comfortably on the bamboo chair. Chunji really knew how to live well—even his bamboo chairs were like modern rocking chairs.

“What’s sweet bean sauce?” Chunji asked, intrigued by the mention of food.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you,” Lei Jin replied. In truth, he didn’t know much about it either. He only knew how to eat it, not how to make it.

“How would I know if you don’t tell me?” Chunji was stubborn.

Actually, making sweet bean sauce only required wheat flour and fermentation. Coincidentally, the Leopard Tribe grew wheat, and while most households didn’t have much to spare, they all had some. Chunji’s home was no exception. After Lei Jin explained the basic method, Chunji got to work. Lei Jin didn’t have high hopes for the result.

Lately, Lei Jin had noticed his appetite had increased dramatically. He could eat and sleep like never before. He had intended to carefully consider the messy relationships between them, but now he was just too tired. His eyelids grew heavy, and he slowly closed his eyes.

Chunji called out a few times from the kitchen but got no response. When he came over, he found Lei Jin asleep.

“Hey, it’s cold out here. If you’re going to sleep, go inside,” Chunji said, shaking the chair. He couldn’t carry Lei Jin himself.

“Mmm…” Lei Jin responded instinctively but made no move to get up.

“Eat and sleep—what is this, raising a pig?” Chunji muttered, resigned to fetching a blanket from the house. Lei Jin’s body was already battered enough. Catching a cold would only make things worse.

“I’ll carry him in.”

The deep male voice startled Chunji.

“Why do you walk so quietly?” Chunji turned to see Xiya approaching. It had only been a dozen or so days, but Xiya looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. How long had it been since he’d slept properly?

Xiya had been visiting various tribes, desperate to find a way to counteract the effects of the banyan fruit. He now knew that while the fruit was harmless to werebeasts—even beneficial for circulation—it was toxic to females, causing infertility and long-term damage to the body. But every healer he consulted had told him the same thing: there was no cure.

Seeing Lei Jin sleeping peacefully, Xiya didn’t dare disturb him. He carried Lei Jin inside and quickly left.

“Is there really no way to counteract the banyan fruit?” Xiya asked, though he already knew the answer.

“No,” Chunji said without hesitation. If Lei Jin hadn’t had the nosebleed, it would have been more complicated. But because it happened early, Chunji had been able to gradually draw the toxins out during the acupuncture sessions. However, doing something and saying it were two different things. For one, Chunji disliked Roger and, by extension, anyone connected to him. For another, he wanted to see how these werebeasts would react when they learned their mate couldn’t bear children in a tribe that placed such importance on lineage.

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The expected answer still dimmed Xiya’s eyes. Children no longer mattered—Lei Jin didn’t want them anyway. But what about his health?

Chunji watched coldly, saying nothing. The final choice hadn’t been made yet after all. He was waiting to see how things would play out.

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Chunji knew his reputation in the tribe wasn’t great. Even Mura, who had a decent relationship with him, always acted furtively when they met. In contrast, Lei Jin had visited him several times openly and without hesitation. At first, Chunji had approached Lei Jin simply because he found him interesting. But as they spent more time together, he realized that Lei Jin’s carefree and straightforward personality was quite endearing. While he couldn’t speak for others, at the very least, Lei Jin had won him over.

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After several interactions, Chunji also learned that Lei Jin was quite averse to the idea of having children. He had intended to warn Lei Jin not to take the jade mugwort, but after seeing how well Xiya and the others treated Lei Jin, and knowing that Lei Jin was about to leave soon on the hunting trip, he thought it could wait until he returned. As for Lei Jin’s desire to return home, Chunji had always known it was impossible, so he hadn’t given it much thought.

Before Lei Jin left, he had come to Chunji to say goodbye. At that time, Chunji was certain Lei Jin hadn’t taken the jade mugwort.

Who could have predicted that a single trip would turn everything upside down?

Chunji placed his hand on Lei Jin’s stomach. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now it was clear that Lei Jin had taken the jade mugwort, and his physique had changed.

“Are you saying that Lei Jin…” Moya stared at the spot where Chunji’s hand rested, his lips moving several times but unable to form the words. From Lei Jin’s perspective, this shouldn’t be a cause for celebration, yet Moya couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope.

Xiya, hearing this, couldn’t stay seated either. Though he tried to maintain his composure, the sudden spark of joy in his eyes was unmistakable.

Roger’s expression, however, was complex and inscrutable.

Only Mingya was completely clueless, entirely out of the loop.

Chunji glanced at Xiya and Moya. Females were rare in the tribes, and those who could find a female partner usually wouldn’t choose to be with a werebeast. After all, who wouldn’t want their own child?

Who wouldn’t be happy to become a father for the first time?

But things rarely go as planned.

A mocking smile appeared on Chunji’s otherwise expressionless face. “Don’t think that just because you secretly gave him the jade mugwort, Lei Jin will obediently bear your children. The best laid plans often go awry. I don’t know how you managed to encounter the banyan fruit, which only grows near the swamps where jade mugwort thrives. The banyan and jade mugwort counteract each other…” He didn’t believe Lei Jin could calmly accept the idea of bearing children after this trip. The only possibility was that they had acted behind his back.

Was this what they called love? Using underhanded methods to make a female pregnant with their child? In Chunji’s eyes, the so-called love of werebeasts for females was nothing more than a means to satisfy themselves and produce offspring.

“So what?” Moya forced the words out, though he already guessed the answer. He wanted to hear the truth directly.

“So Lei Jin will never be able to have children, no matter how much jade mugwort he takes,” Chunji said coldly, his lips parting to deliver the harsh reality.

“What?” After a moment of stunned silence, it was Roger who spoke first.

Xiya staggered, his face twisted in pain. He had been the one to pick those banyan fruits.

“Papa?” Mingya tugged at Roger’s pant leg. “What is Brother Chunji saying?”

“Don’t ask, Mingya,” Roger sighed. He knew this might not be a bad thing for Lei Jin, but seeing his sons in such pain, he couldn’t feel at ease either.

“Is Brother Chunji saying that Lei Jin can never have a baby?” Though young, Mingya wasn’t entirely clueless.

Roger nodded. The truth was out, and Mingya deserved to know.

“Will Lei Jin be sad?” Mingya’s first concern was Lei Jin’s feelings.

Roger shook his head. “Lei Jin doesn’t like the idea of having babies. He probably won’t be sad about this.”

Mingya thought for a moment, resting his head on his paws.

“Are you sad, Mingya?” Roger asked.

“No. If Lei Jin isn’t sad, then I’m not sad either,” Mingya shook his head.

Roger nodded, relieved. He had always known that his youngest son, though a bit naive, had a one of a kind pure and kind heart.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Roger asked, noticing how seriously Mingya had been pondering.

“I was thinking, if one day Lei Jin suddenly wants a baby, where can I find one for him?”

Mingya seemed to think babies were as easy to find as weeds on the ground.

“Why don’t you have one for him?” Roger was at a loss for words, unsure how to handle his youngest son.

“I’m a werebeast,” Mingya replied, aware that werebeasts couldn’t bear babies.

“If you want to, you can,” Roger said, not wanting to argue further.

“Really, Papa? Can I have a baby for Lei Jin?” Mingya’s eyes lit up.

“You really have no sense of being a werebeast,” Chunji muttered, rubbing his temples.

All of them standing there were really getting on his nerves. Chunji waved them off. “Everyone except Lei Jin, get out. It’s getting late.”

“Chunji, Lei Jin’s arms are also injured,” Moya explained in detail about their encounter with the dragon bird. Despite the suffocating pain in his heart, there was no use dwelling on it now. Elder Brother must be the most guilt-ridden, as they would never have children now.

Just moments ago, they had thought Lei Jin might be pregnant, but the reality was far crueler. The sudden shift from joy to despair was something only those who had experienced it could understand.

Forget it. Now wasn’t the time to think about this. Moya forced himself to focus. Lei Jin was still unconscious. Could his injuries have worsened?

Chunji had heard about the incident from others in the tribe. After examining Lei Jin, he had a rough idea of the extent of the injury to his arms.

“I know. Moya, put him in my room. The rest of you, leave,” Chunji pointed to the courtyard gate. He wasn’t a good person anyway and didn’t care about his reputation. He did as he pleased.

“Let’s go home, Xiya,” Roger reached out to take Xiya’s hand, but it was cold and unresponsive. “Xiya, what’s wrong?”

“Papa?” Xiya rarely called Roger “papa” because Roger didn’t like it.

“Let’s talk at home,” Roger patted the back of Xiya’s hand.

Xiya glanced back at the lit room. Then he turned and left with Roger and Mingya.

“Can I stay here with him? I’m worried he might need help if he wakes up at night,” Moya said, laying Lei Jin on the bed, loosening his clothes, and covering him with a blanket.

“Do you think he’s going to wake up in this state?” Chunji crossed his legs and sat leisurely on a nearby stool. “Besides, if you stay here overnight, people who don’t know the situation might start rumors. I can’t afford that kind of reputation.”

“Then I’ll come see him tomorrow morning,” Moya knew Chunji wouldn’t budge. He tucked the blanket around Lei Jin.

Chunji had been about to say, “Don’t be a nuisance,” but seeing the concern in Moya’s eyes, he changed his tone. “Do as you please.”

As Moya was about to leave, Chunji’s voice called out from behind, “Don’t you want children?” He hadn’t missed the hope in Moya’s eyes earlier.

“I do,” Moya said before stepping out.

“What does that mean?” Chunji muttered. Moya clearly wanted children, but hearing that Lei Jin couldn’t have them didn’t seem to faze him much. Chunji couldn’t figure it out and decided not to waste his energy. There were other things to deal with.

“Alright, stop pretending. They’re gone,” Chunji said with a grin, sitting down beside Lei Jin.

Lei Jin slowly opened his eyes and smiled lazily. “Long time no see, Chunji, my beauty.”

He had genuinely passed out earlier—no one wanted to embarrass themselves in public like that. But Chunji’s medicine was excruciating, the kind of pain that could wake the dead. Lei Jin had woken up but was still weak. He had planned to rest with his eyes closed, but then the whole drama unfolded. Honestly, he was shocked too and didn’t know how to react, so he decided to play along.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I figured it out?” Chunji leaned in closer, almost touching Lei Jin’s nose.

“Help me sit up first. It’s uncomfortable talking while lying down,” Lei Jin said without ceremony.

“Do you think I’m one of your obedient little leopards?” Chunji grumbled but still grabbed two large pillows and propped Lei Jin up against the headboard, supporting his back as he sat up.

“You haven’t had other men in this bed, have you?” Lei Jin glanced at the blanket covering him. He had a bit of a cleanliness obsession and didn’t want to risk catching some bug.

“If you’re so picky, don’t sleep here. This is the only bed in my house. You should be grateful I’m letting you use it. Others can’t even get near it. I didn’t see you complaining when your little leopards were holding you.”

“They’re different. They have good hygiene habits,” Lei Jin said honestly, without bias.

“Yeah, right. It’s all because of Roger’s strict rules. Everyone in the tribe knows that.”

“As long as it’s good, who cares whose rules they are?”

“Of course it’s good. Did they make you feel good too?” Chunji smirked, reaching out to touch a purplish hickey near Lei Jin’s ear. “You’ve got marks all over, front and back. Was it two of them, or all three? It couldn’t have been just one.”

“Don’t drag Mingya into this,” Lei Jin said, though he cared for the little guy, the idea of being with him that way was unimaginable. It felt too much like taking advantage of a child.

“So it was Xiya and Moya then. No wonder they looked so hopeful when I touched your stomach. They thought there might be a baby in there.”

“Was what you said true?” Lei Jin asked.

“Which part? I’ve said a lot today,” Chunji replied, unsure which statement Lei Jin was referring to.

“The part about someone giving me jade mugwort, and being able to have children.”

“Of course it’s true. Why would I lie? What do you think caused the nosebleed?” Chunji poured a glass of water from the table.

“I thought it was because of the hot springs,” Lei Jin frowned.

“Nonsense. The hot springs might slow the healing of your shoulder wound or cause some bleeding, but the nosebleed was definitely from taking both jade mugwort and banyan.”

“Are you saying they drugged me? That I could really have a child?” Lei Jin’s voice was cold. Was this what their so-called love amounted to? Deception and lies? All this time, he had felt guilty for not being able to return their feelings, thinking of ways to make it up to them before he left.

And what had they done? Tried to trap him with a child? Keep him here, bound to them, having children?

Xiya, Moya, I’ve never tried to deceive you, even if I couldn’t accept your feelings. But what have you given me in return? Was all that warmth just for the sake of a child? A small voice in Lei Jin’s heart whispered: Is that really true? Can’t you feel it? If not, why would they go behind your back?

Chunji saw the coldness creeping into Lei Jin’s eyes and knew things had taken a bad turn.

“There’s something I should have told you earlier. You thought you weren’t a female of this world and couldn’t bear children. That’s not entirely wrong, but there’s a herb here called jade mugwort. Its flower can alter your physique, allowing you to conceive after being with a werebeast.”

“So my stomach…” Lei Jin looked down with disgust. The idea of a man’s body bearing a child was something he had never considered.

“Be honest. Have you been with them in their beast forms?” If so, that would complicate things. Given Lei Jin’s current state, he clearly didn’t want a child. If it was early, Chunji might not be able to detect it. But if they waited until the pregnancy was advanced, it would be dangerous to terminate.

Lei Jin shook his head firmly. “Does that matter?”

Chunji continued, “You should know that the beast form is the true form of a werebeast, and it’s when they’re at their strongest. Being with them in that form greatly increases the chances of pregnancy. Of course, it can happen at other times too, but the likelihood is much lower, though not impossible.”

“I’ll stay here for a few days,” Lei Jin said, closing his eyes, exhaustion evident on his face.

“Stay as long as you like. But I think they…”

Lei Jin cut him off. “Don’t mention them to me right now.”

“Alright, I won’t. Here, drink some water,” Chunji handed him the cup.

“Rest here for now. I had some meat stewing in the pot earlier. The fire’s probably out by now. I’ll go check.”

Lei Jin avoided Chunji’s outstretched hand. “Don’t lay me down. I’ll just sit for a while.”

“That’s fine. You can try my cooking later. Let me tell you, in this tribe, when it comes to cooking and healing, if I say I’m second, no one dares claim first.”

Lei Jin knew Chunji was trying to distract him and nodded along.

Though the room was lit, it was still dim, filled with the scent of pine resin. By the time Chunji returned with the meat stew, Lei Jin still hadn’t sorted out his thoughts.

“Try this. I added a lot of medicinal herbs. It’s flavorful and nourishing,” Chunji said, knowing Lei Jin’s arm was immobile. He climbed onto the bed with the bowl, and the two ate together.

After Lei Jin swallowed a bite, Chunji asked, “See? I didn’t lie, did I?”

Chunji’s stew was delicious, with thinly sliced meat and a hint of herbal flavor. But Lei Jin had no appetite.

After the meal, the two lay side by side on the bed.

“Will my arms heal?” This was Lei Jin’s biggest concern. If his arms didn’t recover, he wouldn’t even be able to take care of himself, let alone think about anything else.

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“Leave it to me,” Chunji said confidently.

“Then I’m relieved,” Lei Jin buried his face in the blanket. The unfamiliar scent around him was a stark reminder that those he was familiar with were gone. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

Once his injuries healed, it would be time to start searching for a way home.

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“Wipe it off.” Image is crucial. Lei Jin managed to utter his final instruction before finally passing out. He couldn’t hold on any longer—he was utterly exhausted.

“Lei Jin…” Moya’s usual cold demeanor vanished completely.

Lei Jin’s sudden collapse caught everyone off guard. Moya, who was already by Lei Jin’s side, quickly scooped up his limp body and held him close. With his wings spread, he flew toward the tribe. Xiya, following closely behind, instructed Mingya, “Take Berg home,” before taking off after them.

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“Mingya wants to go too!” Mingya, who couldn’t fly yet, called out to the other werebeasts who had come to meet them, asking them to take Berg back to their home. Then he dashed off on all fours, chasing after the others.

“What just happened?” The crowd exchanged confused glances, unsure of what had transpired. Lei Jin had disappeared right before their eyes back then, and now that he was back, many had wanted to greet him. But they hadn’t even gotten a chance to see him properly.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you to Xiya’s place,” said Qi Luo, one of the werebeasts who had been present. He had only caught a glimpse of Lei Jin earlier and hadn’t had time to see what was going on.

Moya didn’t take Lei Jin to the tribe’s healer. Instead, he went straight to Chunji’s house. Everyone knew Chunji was the best healer, though he also had the worst temper. However, Chunji owed his life to Dad An Luo, so he always showed some leniency toward their family.

The door was practically slammed open by Moya. Chunji, who was inside doing something, heard the commotion and shouted without even looking up, “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here! Don’t cause trouble in my place!”

“Chunji, come quick! Save Lei Jin!” Moya laid Lei Jin down on a bamboo bed in the courtyard, trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose and mouth with his hands, but the blood seeped through his fingers.

“Lei Jin?” Chunji, sleeves rolled up, emerged from the house. Seeing Lei Jin’s bloodied face, he was startled and hurried over. “What happened? It hasn’t been that long since I last saw him. How did he end up like this?”

Xiya, who had arrived right behind, still managed to keep his composure. Hearing Chunji’s question, he explained how Lei Jin had suddenly started bleeding from his nose and mouth.

Chunji had already begun examining Lei Jin. After a moment, he straightened up and said, “There are no wounds on his nose or mouth. Could the injury be internal?”

“We ran into saber-tooth beasts on our way back. Lei Jin was clawed,” Moya explained. He helped Lei Jin sit up, and Xiya stepped in to assist, removing Lei Jin’s shirt. The wound on his shoulder, which hadn’t fully healed, had started bleeding again despite being treated with medicine just the night before.

“How could you still have intercourse with him? Look at the state he’s in!” Without the shirt covering him, the marks on Lei Jin’s body were unmistakable.

Neither Moya nor Xiya had anything to say. While Lei Jin had provoked them, it was true that they hadn’t been able to restrain themselves.

Chunji snorted, went back inside, and returned with a crystal vial. He poured some brown powder onto the wound and bandaged it with fine white cotton. Lei Jin, likely feeling the pain, frowned and shifted uncomfortably in Moya’s arms.

“Chunji, be gentle,” Moya said softly, patting Lei Jin’s back. Even though he knew Lei Jin couldn’t hear him, he kept murmuring, “It’s okay, it’ll be over soon. Just hang in there a little longer.”

“Is this the cause? Did the injury go deeper?” Xiya asked anxiously from the side.

Chunji shot them a glare. “Where were you two when this happened? Can’t even protect the person you love.”

“Brother Chunji, what’s wrong with Lei Jin?” Mingya finally arrived, drenched in sweat.

“I must really owe this family,” Chunji muttered, tying off the bandage. “When did you encounter the saber-toothed beasts?”

“Three days ago,” Xiya replied.

“And you used falconweed on him?” Chunji sniffed some of the remaining powder near the wound.

Xiya nodded.

“That’s strange. Falconweed is one of the best hemostatic herbs. Why is the wound still bleeding? And what’s with the nosebleed?” Chunji frowned, examining the injury more closely. It didn’t make sense. While it was understandable for Lei Jin to cough up some blood immediately after being clawed, bleeding three days later was unusual.

After all the commotion, the nosebleed had stopped on its own.

Chunji couldn’t figure out the cause right away, but since Lei Jin still reacted when touched, he guessed there wouldn’t be any immediate danger.

Xiya fetched a basin of water from the well in the courtyard and carefully wiped Lei Jin’s face clean.

Roger, who had received the message from Mingya that Lei Jin was safe and that the three brothers had returned, finally felt a weight lift off his shoulders. An Luo, who had run into the crow delivering the message on its way home, had also returned, waiting for the family to reunite.

When someone came to their house to say they were back, Roger had rushed out to meet them halfway, only to hear that Lei Jin seemed to be in trouble. Only then did he hurry over.

“What happened to Lei Jin?” Roger asked, noticing how much darker and thinner Lei Jin looked after this trip, not to mention the injuries.

“Papa…” Mingya threw himself at Roger, his eyes red.

Roger patted his head a couple of times, too preoccupied to correct his form of address. He asked again, “What about Lei Jin?”

“Father, Chunji hasn’t figured out the cause yet,” Xiya explained, briefly recounting the situation to Roger. He pulled over a small stool for Roger to sit on.

“Did anything else happen on your way back?” Chunji, seeing that Moya wasn’t going to be much help, turned to Xiya instead.

“After we ran into the saber-toothed beasts, the rest of the journey was smooth,” Xiya replied, thinking for a moment before shaking his head.

“Did Lei Jin go anywhere alone? Or eat anything by himself?” Chunji tried to prompt him.

Xiya shook his head again. With Lei Jin injured, there was no way they would have let him go off on his own.

Chunji asked a few more questions, and Xiya answered them carefully after thinking them over, but Chunji dismissed each one.

In the end, Chunji almost ran out of patience. He sat down and poured himself a cup of water.

“Mingya fed Lei Jin some red berries,” Mingya chimed in, raising a paw.

“What red berries?” Chunji asked absentmindedly, not really paying attention to Mingya’s words.

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Xiya, however, remembered the incident. He had tasted the berries himself and didn’t think they were poisonous, but he still described the tree and the berries in detail to Chunji.

Before Xiya could finish, Chunji kicked over his stool and stood up. He pressed his hand against Lei Jin’s stomach for a while, then let out a cold laugh. “You guys really outdid yourselves this time.”

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