Werebeast Gongs CH 103 Ending
Time flew by in the hustle and bustle. As expected, Lei Jin received confirmation from Berg—Lan Qi had agreed to help. Whatever his reasons—whether guilt or gratitude—it was a good start to Lei Jin’s journey home. Over the next six to seven days, Lei Jin busied himself with preparations. The journey ahead would be treacherous, and without Xiya and the others to rely on, anything could happen. For the sake of his own survival, no amount of preparation was excessive—though time was still tight.
“Is there anything else you need?” Roger helped Lei Jin take stock of the supplies.
“Almost done. Food, clothes, bow and arrows, torches, flint, salt—the basics are all ready. As for fresh water for the sea, I’ve already cut some bamboo tubes and left them on the mountain. I’ll fill them with river water before setting sail.” Lei Jin sorted through the large wicker basket. Most of the space was taken up by food—dried meat Roger had helped roast—both filling and easy to carry. The map and the black jade stones, the most crucial items, were already on his person.
Roger hummed in acknowledgment, then frowned at the sparse clothing. “Shouldn’t you bring more clothes? The sea will be freezing this time of year.” Lei Jin’s plan was thorough, his considerations meticulous. But sending him off alone still left Roger uneasy. This wasn’t the modern world—if something went wrong, there’d be no one to call for help. Lan Qi’s assistance would make the sea route safer, but Lei Jin still had to traverse the jungle alone. And once he reached the forbidden area, who knew what dangers awaited? The strange occurrences near that place remained unexplained to this day. Still, all Roger could do was to give him reminders—persuasion was no longer an option.
“No, this is enough.” The less he took from this world, the better. Someone who was leaving had no right to ask for more.
“When do you plan to leave?” The pine-resin lamp cast dim light, obscuring Lei Jin’s expression.
“The sooner, the better.” Procrastination wasn’t his style. If he was going, he’d go decisively.
“Alright. Get some rest early. The wind’s strong tonight—close the windows and doors properly.” Roger’s final reminder.
The cold was indeed intensifying. He wondered how the hunting party was faring in the jungle. But by the time they returned, he’d be long gone.
The next day, Lei Jin sought out Berg to finalize their departure plans.
Berg hadn’t expected Lei Jin to be ready so soon. Now, he had no choice but to confess—Lan Qi was still bedridden, unable to move. Xiya and Moya had beaten him severely. If not for An Bu’s intervention, it might have been fatal.
Lei Jin was surprised that Xiya and Moya had ganged up on Lan Qi. Not exactly honorable, but he wasn’t about to complain. In a fight, victory was all that mattered—methods were irrelevant. Besides, compared to the thought of Xiya and the others getting hurt, Lan Qi’s injuries meant nothing to him. Still, for Berg’s sake, he feigned appropriate concern.
Berg clarified—it wasn’t two against one. Moya had gone first, and before Lan Qi could recover, Xiya had followed up. He didn’t mention Mingya’s contribution—seeing Lan Qi barely alive, Mingya had angrily thrown in another punch before leaving.
Lei Jin nearly laughed. Those two were so childish. He was used to being the protector, the one relied upon. But in this world, he’d been the one constantly cared for. Once he left, this bond would truly be severed. The thought left a bitter ache in his chest. Berg, unaware of his thoughts, mistook his silence for disappointment over the delay and repeatedly apologized, promising they’d set sail within five days.
So, he’d have to wait. Without Lan Qi’s help, crossing the sea with primitive tools would be suicide. Though eager to leave, Lei Jin hadn’t lost his rationality—he didn’t plan to die on the way.
His deadline was the arrival of the Moon Festival—about ten days away. Plenty of time. After confirming the departure details with Berg, he returned home.
While waiting, Lei Jin kept busy. With Roger’s help, he finally succeeded in brewing soy sauce and vinegar. He also thoroughly cleaned both houses, hanging hides over the windows and doors for insulation. Earlier, while Lei Jin was ill, Xiya and the others had only tidied his bedroom—the rest had been left untouched before they left for the hunt.
No matter how reluctant, the day of departure arrived. Winter days dawned late. When Lei Jin pushed open the door, the grassland was still shrouded in gray, but the lingering snow provided enough light to see by. He hoisted the heavy basket onto his back and prepared to meet Lan Qi—only to freeze at the sudden commotion outside.
At this early hour, the entire tribe should’ve been asleep. Any noise was unmistakable. Despite all his planning, Lei Jin hadn’t anticipated the hunting party’s return on the very morning of his departure.
There was no leaving today. Calmly, he hid the wicker basket, hung his coat back in the wardrobe, and climbed into bed, feigning sleep. Just as he settled, footsteps approached outside.
“Lei Jin, look what Mingya brought you—”
“Shh… He’s still asleep.” Xiya cut off Mingya’s excited voice.
Lei Jin felt icy fingers brush his face, trailing downward.
“Let him sleep. He hasn’t had a full night’s rest in over two months.” Moya’s voice suggested he was the last to enter.
“It's been over half a month, yet he hasn’t gained any weight. I wonder if he’s been eating and sleeping properly.”
Lei Jin had thought his act flawless. Turns out, they’d seen right through him—just hadn’t said anything. He heard Xiya add charcoal to the brazier, warming the room further. Then came the soft sound of the wardrobe opening—they must be changing clothes.
Lan Qi should’ve reached the river valley by now. Hopefully, Berg had noticed the situation and warned him in time. As for Roger—no worries there. He’d handle it.
Lei Jin lay still, lost in thought. But amidst their quiet movements, his exhausted nerves—long strained from sleepless nights—finally gave way. What began as pretense turned into genuine drowsiness.
Just before sleep took him, he felt the blanket shift. Someone climbed in carefully, pressing close against his back. Probably Mingya, Lei Jin thought vaguely—but before he could react further, darkness claimed him.
Wrapped in warmth, Lei Jin slept deeply. When he woke, Mingya was perched by the bed, unblinking eyes fixed on him.
“Do I have flowers on my face?” Lei Jin pushed away the large head hovering too close.
Before he could shove Mingya back, something cool slipped into his mouth.
“Is it good? Mingya picked these rock fruits!” The emphasis on “Mingya” and the eager, tail-wagging expression begged for praise.
The fruit was soft, smooth, lightly sweet—quite tasty. But Lei Jin, ever the tease, refused to say so. He watched Mingya’s hopeful expression crumble into disappointment, then near-tears.
“You… don’t like it?” This was Mingya’s first hunt as an adult—his gift to Lei Jin. But Lei Jin didn’t like it at all.
“Silly, it’s delicious.” Having tormented him enough, Lei Jin sat up halfway, pulling Mingya into a hug and ruffling his hair.
“Mmph—!” Mingya squirmed against Lei Jin’s chest.
What followed was a childish tussle—pushing, shoving, wrestling—until Mingya pinned Lei Jin beneath him.
“I yield!” Lei Jin surrendered the moment the tables turned.
“Mingya doesn’t want to get up.” Like this, Lei Jin looked irresistible—clothes disheveled, hair damp with sweat, their chests heaving against each other.
“What’ll make you move?” Lei Jin tugged his ear, amused. “Since when did you learn to bargain?”
“Then kiss Mingya?” Boldly, Mingya puckered his lips.
Lei Jin’s eye twitched—then he laughed, cupping Mingya’s head and planting a loud, smacking kiss.
On the forehead.
Mingya froze, stunned that Lei Jin had actually kissed him.
Seizing the chance, Lei Jin pushed him off. “Open the curtains. What time is it?”
This was the first time Lei Jin had kissed Mingya while awake. Mingya, dazed, touched his forehead with a goofy grin—until Lei Jin kicked him into action. He scrambled to draw the curtains.
Sunlight flooded the room—it was nearly noon.
Barefoot, Mingya fetched a bowl of thumb-sized, ruby-red fruits. Wiping his hands, he picked one and offered it to Lei Jin. “Mingya shelled these while you slept. Have more.”
Lei Jin sighed. Was he a child now? First Xiya and Moya, now even Mingya was hand feeding him.
“I’ll eat it myself.” He reached for the bowl.
Mingya pouted, stubbornly holding the fruit to Lei Jin’s lips—unaware of his own pitiful expression.
Defeated, Lei Jin accepted the offering.
Only then did Mingya beam.
Worried about him catching cold, Lei Jin pulled him onto the bed. Under the midday sun, they shared the fruits—though most ended up in Lei Jin’s stomach. Mingya, content just watching him eat, grinned endlessly.
“Too busy with snacking on fruits to eat lunch? It’s ready—come down.” Xiya lifted the door curtain, smiling.
During the meal, Roger asked, “Why’s the hunt ended so early this year?” In previous years, with scarce prey and the Moon Festival’s demands, the hunters usually took over a month.
“We stumbled upon a deer herd scattered by a snowstorm—most of our haul. Plus, with more snow coming soon, we hurried back.” An Sen answered.
Werebeasts, spending more time outdoors, sensed weather changes far better than females. So while Lei Jin and Roger saw only sunshine, the werebeasts knew a storm approached.
Roger shot Lei Jin a discreet glance.
Lei Jin showed no reaction—if anything, he seemed more at ease than days prior. Roger understood—Lei Jin had a plan. Relieved yet wistful, he marveled at Lei Jin’s resolve. Likely, nothing would be able to stop him.
Five days until the Moon Festival—the final deadline. Lei Jin finished his meal, draining the last of the broth.
As the tribe bustled with preparations, joy filled the air. The Moon Festival was sacred—a time to thank the gods for the year’s blessings and pray for abundance. Werebeasts hauled timber soaked in animal fat to build massive bonfires, while females butchered and cleaned game for the feast.
Amid the chaos, An Bu found time to update Lei Jin on land distribution and the experimental wheat planted last autumn, asking for further suggestions.
Lei Jin added a few thoughts.
An Bu promised to introduce him to the tribal elders during the festival. Lei Jin smiled noncommittally.
An Bu took it as agreement.
On the eve of the festival, as dusk painted the sky, Lei Jin stood by the door, the grassland wind fluttering his clothes. His shadow stretched long, then blurred.
“Lei Jin! Mingya’s back!” Mingya dashed over, looping an arm around Lei Jin’s.
“Why wait out here in the cold?” Xiya touched his cheek—icy. How long had he been standing there?
Moya studied Lei Jin deeply before ushering him inside.
“Something smells amazing! Papa said we’re eating separately in our room tonight—what did you make?” Mingya sniffed like an excited pup.
At the center of the room, a clay stove simmered a pot of fragrant broth.
“Beef? And bones—are we having beef soup?” Xiya washed his hands, stepping closer with a smile.
“No. Tonight, we’re having noodles.” Lei Jin’s tone was calm.
“What’s noodles?” Mingya moved to help as Lei Jin lifted a woven lid from another table.
Roger had mentioned that the tribe mostly boiled wheat whole or, at most, made flatbreads. Other methods were unknown.
“You’ll see.” Lei Jin waved him off.
The broth, simmered long enough, had turned creamy white. Tasting it, Lei Jin found the beef tender. He added the pre-cut noodles to the pot.
Once served, each bowl was topped with wood ear mushrooms, diced pickled greens, and scallions.
The four ate happily around the table, none noticing the weather’s turn outside.
After dinner.
“I’ll clean up. You go wash and sleep.” Xiya yawned, unusually drowsy. Had he overeaten? But Lei Jin had barely touched his food—claiming he’d snacked earlier.
“You go ahead. I’ll finish.” Lei Jin smiled, lips pale.
“You—” Xiya’s words dissolved into another yawn. He shook his head, fighting the heaviness.
“Sleep. Tomorrow’s the festival—you’ll need energy.” Lei Jin guided him to bed.
Xiya was out the moment he touched the sheets.
Moya, forehead resting on a hand, sat at the table. Lei Jin approached. “You too. Long day tomorrow.”
Moya rose unsteadily, carrying the already-asleep Mingya to the innermost bed. Without a word, he pulled Lei Jin into a bone-crushing embrace.
“Big guy like you, acting like Mingya now?” Lei Jin patted his back.
“You must… stay safe.” Moya’s whisper was barely audible.
Lei Jin stiffened—then forced a laugh. “What nonsense—” His words cut off as Moya slumped against him, finally succumbing.
Expression solemn, Lei Jin laid him down. Lan Qi’s drug worked well.
“I once asked if you’d come with me. You refused. I doubt you’d agree now. After I’m gone, visit the baby sometimes. Don’t frown—you know I hate seeing you sad.” Lei Jin smoothed the crease between Moya’s brows.
“Mingya’s grown up now. Be good, as always.” He tucked Mingya in properly.
From under Moya’s bed, Lei Jin retrieved the prepared basket.
“I’m leaving, Xiya. I’m sorry.” Of them all, Xiya weighed heaviest on his conscience. This person had stood by him through his darkest days, silent yet steadfast. The child he’d carried—though unspoken, he’d hoped, if it were Xiya’s, it might make amends. But the child was gone.
“You deserve someone better.”
“Goodbye.” A final kiss brushed Xiya’s lips.
Turning, Lei Jin found his sleeve clutched in Xiya’s grip. Xiya’s face twisted in struggle—fighting to wake.
Gritting his teeth, Lei Jin pried the fingers loose, and lifting the basket, he fled.
Roger waited outside.
“Safe journey.” There was nothing else to say.
Lei Jin nodded. “If I make it back… any messages?”
Roger sighed. “Twenty years have passed. I doubt anyone remembers me. That pocket watch I gave you when we first met—do you still have it?”
Lei Jin nodded. The watch, for some reason, had never worked.
“If you can, visit this place.” Roger provided an address.
Though it was unfamiliar, Lei Jin committed it to memory.
“To avoid An Sen and An Luo’s suspicion, I can’t escort you further. Lan Qi should be waiting at the river mouth.”
“Goodbye, Roger.”
As Lei Jin turned, the door burst open.
“Lei Jin—!” Mingya, sobbing, tackled him from behind.
“Mingya?” Lei Jin staggered in surprise. Wasn’t he the first to fall asleep?
“Where are you going? You’re leaving Mingya? Leaving Eldest Brother and Second Brother?”
“Mingya, let go.” Lei Jin tried to peel him off.
“No! If Mingya lets go, you’ll really leave!”
“Mingya, listen to father. Lei Jin has people waiting for him too. You can’t be selfish.” Roger’s heart ached for his son.
“But will they treat him better than we do?”
“That’s not how it works, Mingya.” Roger pulled him into a hug.
“Thank you, Roger.” Lei Jin watched Mingya’s tearful face but offered no comfort.
“Father… will Lei Jin be happier there?”
“Maybe.” Some things weren’t missed until lost. By then, it was too late.
Mingya wiped his tears. “Father, Mingya will see him off. The road’s dangerous—Mingya will protect him.”
In that moment, Roger saw his youngest son—no longer a child, but an adult. One who’d learned to protect what he loved, even at the cost of his own heartbreak.
“Go. I’ll wait for your return.” Roger said.
At the river mouth, Lan Qi and Berg stood in silence. Lan Qi smiled bitterly—he and Berg had come to this. Since that night, Berg barely spoke to him, threatening to take Bubbles and die if pressured further. No matter his dominance, Lan Qi wouldn’t risk their lives.
Spotting figures approaching, Berg hurried forward—only to freeze at the sight of Mingya trailing Lei Jin.
“What’s this?” Berg pulled Lei Jin aside.
“Don’t ask. We’re leaving. Thank you, Berg.” To avoid drawing attention, Berg would stay behind for now.
“After this… we’ll likely never meet again.” Berg’s eyes reddened.
“No matter what happens, remember—you have Bubbles.” A rare moment of Lei Jin offering guidance, wrapped in a light embrace.
Lan Qi and Mingya pushed the pre-made bamboo raft from the reeds. Lei Jin glanced southeast, toward the lone hill.
“Want to see it one last time?” Berg guessed his thoughts.
Lei Jin shook his head, stepping firmly onto the raft.
“It’s snowing, Lei Jin.” Mingya looked up.
Lei Jin had chosen tonight deliberately. Tomorrow’s festival would keep Xiya and the others occupied, unable to pursue. By morning, fresh snow would erase all traces of his passage.
“Lei Jin, put on more clothes.” Mingya poled the raft while Lan Qi swam ahead.
Sitting, Lei Jin opened the basket—then covered his face with a hand. The mask of indifference shattered. Inside, neatly folded, were the thick winter clothes that had been made for him this year.
Onshore, Berg watched the tiny raft vanish into the night.