Werebeast Gongs CH 101 The Farthest Distance
The first snow of this winter lasted unusually long—seven to eight days without stopping. The vast grasslands were buried under thick layers of snow. Elders in the tribe said they hadn't seen such heavy snowfall in years. If this continued, the spring melt would surely bring floods.
Lei Jin's tearing had been carefully treated, and he woke up that same night. Xiya and Moya hadn't slept at all, and even Mingya, who had rushed back after hearing the news, stayed by his side. When he woke, Xiya helped him sit up and fed him some warm water.
Lei Jin's face was still pale and exhausted from childbirth, but his eyes darted anxiously around the room. Moya knew what he was searching for, his heart aching unbearably. Softly, he said, "The baby left peacefully, without pain."
Lei Jin stared blankly at Moya, not registering his words at all. His voice was hoarse as he asked urgently, "Where is the baby? Where's my child?"
"Lei Jin, don't be like this. We know you're grieving, but the baby... the baby was already gone when he was born. Healer Qing Qiao said there was nothing we could do. If you're sad, cry—don't hold it in..." Xiya's own eyes reddened as he spoke.
"Then where is he now? Let me see him." Lei Jin's tone was eerily calm, as if he had already accepted reality. The earlier agitation seemed like a fleeting illusion.
"I... I already sent him away," Moya said, gripping Lei Jin's icy hand tightly, as if afraid he might vanish too.
"I never even got to see him once. You could've at least let me see him once..." Lei Jin murmured, his voice barely audible, as if speaking only to himself. He had slept for so long—long enough for the sky to darken, long enough for his child to be gone.
Mingya, unable to bear it any longer, bolted from the room. He had held back his tears all night, but now they spilled over. His papa had said Lei Jin would be the one suffering most, that Mingya shouldn't cry. But seeing Lei Jin like this—unable to shed a single tear—Mingya's heart felt like it was being torn apart.
Even with his mouth covered, muffled sobs still reached the room.
For a moment, the silence was suffocating.
"Is it snowing outside? Why is it so quiet tonight?" Lei Jin asked softly, gazing toward the window.
"Yes. It started during the day—heavy snow. The ground is already covered," Moya answered.
"Then... would he be cold?" Lei Jin knew that kind of cold all too well—the kind that seeped into your bones, leaving you alone in the dark.
Moya turned away, roughly wiping his face before facing Lei Jin again. "Try to sleep a little more. Dawn is still far off."
"Right. I should sleep." Lei Jin pulled free from Xiya's embrace and lay down on his own, tugging the blanket tightly around himself. Tonight was bitterly cold, and no matter how much he wrapped up, his body refused to warm.
"We can have another child someday. Sleep now. Things will be better when you wake up," Xiya said, forcing out words he didn't even believe. He wiped his eyes and adjusted Lei Jin's blanket.
"Moya?" Lei Jin suddenly called.
"En? What is it?" Moya leaned closer.
"Where did you put him?" The "him" needed no explanation.
"On that little hill where we used to watch the sunrise."
"Okay. All of you, go to sleep. Take Mingya with you." Lei Jin turned onto his side, facing the wall. Mingya was still crying outside, but Lei Jin's own eyes remained dry and hollow.
"Let me stay with you," Moya pleaded.
"No. Tonight, I want to be alone." Lein Jin refused.
"Alright, then rest well."
"And don't dwell on it, okay?" Xiya added.
Lei Jin didn't respond. The two left with the lamp, their hushed voices drifting back.
"Why did you tell him now? Healer Qing Qiao said his body is too weak after childbirth—he shouldn't be upset!" Xiya's tone was accusatory.
"Do you think he'd want to be comforted with lies? Even kind ones—he'd refuse them. Besides, he's the baby's bearer. Don't you think he'd know if his child was gone?" If he hadn't sensed it, why had his first waking look been so full of fear?
Xiya sighed and sat down. "Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you." He knew Moya was right. But the pain in his chest was unbearable—he had to lash out at something.
"I understand." Moya felt the same.
None of them noticed when Lei Jin left that night. It was only when Mingya, unable to sleep, went to check on him that they found the window open and Lei Jin gone.
They found him later on the hill where the baby had been laid to rest—unconscious, his nails caked with mud.
Moya bundled him up and flew back. Xiya scanned the snowy slope, but there was no trace of the child. No wild animals roamed the plains in winter—nothing could have taken the body. Yet where Moya had placed the baby, not a single mark remained. The absence was suspicious.
But Xiya's unease was soon overshadowed by a greater fear—Lei Jin was ill.
For over half a month, Lei Jin drifted in and out of consciousness. Healer Qing Qiao said the childbirth had weakened him, and the exposure to the cold had worsened his condition. Medicine was given, but nothing helped. He slept endlessly, his body growing thinner by the day. Mingya cried daily, inconsolable.
Lei Jin, who had once been so distressed by Mingya's tears, now showed no reaction at all.
Xiya and Moya tried to feed him, but he ate little.
Chunji returned and examined Lei Jin, hesitating before finally sighing. He left no medicine, only saying cryptically, "He'll wake when he wants to wake."
Just as hope was dwindling, Lei Jin opened his eyes on his own. Xiya found him that noon—dressed, sitting on the windowsill with his knees drawn up, watching the snow. The storm had long passed, but the drifts remained. The wind howled through the open window, yet Lei Jin seemed not to feel it.
It took several calls before Lei Jin noticed him. He climbed down, unsteady from days without proper food, but refused Xiya's help. He walked to the table alone and ate his first full meal since losing the baby.
From then on, Lei Jin recovered steadily. His spirits lifted, and he never spoke of the child again—as if the baby had never existed. The family, in silent agreement, avoided the subject entirely.
Two days later, the tribe's final winter hunt—delayed by the snow—was set to begin. As always, every able-bodied werebeast was required to participate, especially for this crucial pre-festival hunt. An Luo, An Sen, Xiya, and Moya would go, and Mingya couldn't miss his first major hunt as an adult either.
Lei Jin's days now followed a strict routine. He woke early, jogged across the plains, practiced his makeshift martial arts (more brawling than technique), after all the time had come.
After returning sweaty from his morning exercise, he would take a hot bath, wash his face and teeth and change into new clothes. By breakfast, he was fresh and energetic.
"Moya, what's for breakfast today?" Lei Jin leaned into the kitchen, looking brighter than the snow outside.
"The sweet potato and corn porridge isn't ready yet. Want some hot soy milk first?" Moya stood from the stove.
Lei Jin's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before widening. "Nah, I'd rather wait for the porridge. Put extra sweet potatoes in mine—that way Xiya can't steal them all."
"Talking behind my back again?" Xiya stomped snow off his boots in the doorway.
Lei Jin sidestepped the hand reaching for him, clicking his tongue. "Eavesdropping is rude, you know. Some people have no manners."
"Didn't eavesdrop. Just overheard." Xiya retracted his hand smoothly.
"Whatever. It's freezing out here—I'm going inside." Lei Jin waved dismissively, then grinned at Moya. "Don't forget what I asked for!"
Once Lei Jin was gone, Xiya and Moya exchanged helpless looks.
This was the new Lei Jin—always just out of reach.
He smiled, joked, even teased.
But no one was allowed to touch him.
Not even those who had once been closest.
Now, an invisible barrier stood between them—thin as air, yet wider than the farthest distance.