Werebeast Gongs CH 089 Greeting
Seeing this, Lei Jin couldn’t help but want to smile. But when he thought about how this soft little creature would one day silently vanish into a place unknown to him, his heart grew heavy. Even though once he left, he wouldn’t see him again either, at least he’d know that the boy would live healthily under the love and care of his parents and siblings. That was enough. Maybe it was a little sentimental, but it was truly how Lei Jin felt at that moment.
After seeing Mingya, Lei Jin wasn’t in the mood to go straight home, so he took a walk near the temple with Xiya. It had already been more than half a year since he arrived in this world, and yet, he’d never really taken a good look at the most prominent building in the tribe. The entire temple was built from massive strips of bluish stone, somewhat resembling a pyramid. Its base was wide and narrowed as it ascended, but instead of ending in a point, it had a flat square platform at the top. The structure had four sides, each with flights of stairs reaching upward.
“Can we go up there and take a look?” Lei Jin asked. Religious buildings like temples usually had all sorts of taboos. Though he didn’t believe in such things, he didn’t want to risk offending anyone either.
“Of course. Apart from the inner sanctum, which isn’t easily accessible, there aren’t many restrictions elsewhere,” Xiya replied. But with so many steps—around a hundred—could Lei Jin’s current body handle the climb?
“Let’s go up and see.” He remembered that before they went to the jungle, Roger had vaguely mentioned that he should check out the temple. Lei Jin still didn’t quite understand what Roger had meant, but he trusted Roger had his reasons. Taking the opportunity today, he might as well go up and see for himself.
The two chose the southern stairs and began to climb. The slope was steep, and the steps were narrow—when Lei Jin stepped on one, a third of his foot was left hanging. Going up wasn’t too bad; people tend to lean forward instinctively, but coming down would be trickier. The climb was a bit difficult for Lei Jin, but manageable. Xiya didn’t dare speak, fearing it would distract him. Lei Jin, a bit bored, counted the steps as he climbed. When they reached the top platform, they’d gone up exactly 91 steps. On that platform, there was one more step leading up to a circular object resembling a millstone, with a slender needle running vertically through the center. Lei Jin had seen something like it before at a science institute building, but had no idea what it was or what it was used for.
“What’s this?” he asked. He hadn’t gone to school much and didn’t see the point in hiding it. Luckily, in his line of work, education wasn’t a requirement.
Xiya glanced at him and said, “It’s a sundial. It’s used to tell time. Before we had sundials and hourglasses, people in the tribe told time by watching the sun and stars.” Seeing Lei Jin circling the sundial with interest, he added, “This was made by papa. He said people from your world would all know what it is.”
“Well, I don’t. How do you read it?” Lei Jin said nonchalantly. The face of the sundial had many markings—twelve large segments and many small ones he couldn’t be bothered to count.
“Look at the shadow of the pointer.” Xiya pointed and carefully explained.
“It’s almost two o’clock?” Lei Jin guessed, seeing the shadow close to the seventh mark. Honestly, once it was explained, it wasn’t hard to understand—it was kind of like a clock, except instead of a hand, it used the shadow of the needle.
On a small platform below the sundial, there were some rough carvings, similar to the ones on the stone pillars behind the temple. A ring of light was surrounded by nine embedded stones—or rather, eight, since one of them, the third, had been dug out, leaving only a small hollow. Between the third and fourth stones, there was a strange symbol Lei Jin couldn’t read and didn’t feel like puzzling over.
“When we were in the Tiger Tribe, where’s that black stone I gave you?” Lei Jin stared at the hollow with a thoughtful expression and looked up to ask Xiya.
“Here,” Xiya replied, taking it off his neck. It was the only thing Lei Jin had ever given him, so he’d always kept it close.
Lei Jin took the stone and tried pressing it into the hollow. It was about the right size, but wouldn’t go in. Maybe he was mistaken? He fell into a moment of silent thought.
Xiya, seeing Lei Jin’s actions, grew inexplicably uneasy and broke the silence. “There’s nothing much to see up here. The wind’s strong—let’s go back down.”
“Alright.” Lei Jin stood up.
The temple was high and offered a wide view. The orderly houses and broad streets were spread out below. The tribe was nestled in dense forests, with the Leopard Tribe’s settlement cloaked in the golden hues of early autumn.
They went up the south side and came down the east. Lei Jin noted that it was still 91 steps. Counting all four sides plus the top platform, it made 365 in total—the number of days in a year. Was that just a coincidence?
After descending the temple, Lei Jin sneezed several times. Xiya figured he’d caught a chill from the wind and urged him to go lie down.
But Lei Jin didn’t think much of it. At most, it was a little cold—nothing worth fussing over.
When they got home, Roger and the others had returned. An Luo was doing laundry, and the clotheslines in the yard were already full. An Sen was in the kitchen chopping something.
“Where have you been?” Roger asked, holding a stick he’d just been using to beat the blankets hanging over the courtyard wall. Seeing them come in, he paused.
When Xiya said they’d gone to the top of the temple, Roger glanced at Lei Jin, his eyes flickering subtly, but he didn’t pursue the topic further.
“A few days ago, you said you wanted meatballs, didn’t you? An Sen is grinding the meat right now. You’ll have them tonight. Is there anything else you want to eat?”
Lei Jin had been craving all sorts of things lately—wanting this and that, like he hadn’t eaten in eight lifetimes. He was always hungry, too. He felt a bit embarrassed. The other day, he’d craved stewed meatballs so badly he’d mentioned it offhand, and Roger had actually remembered.
“That’s good enough. I’ll make them myself.” The others definitely wouldn’t know how to cook them, but at least he wouldn’t starve with his own skills.
“You should lie down and rest. Just tell me how to make it, and I’ll do it,” Xiya said, still concerned about the chill he’d caught.
“You’ll ruin it since it’s your first time. I’ll do it.” Lei Jin rolled up his sleeves.
Just then, An Sen said the meat was ready.
Before heading into the kitchen, Lei Jin pulled a few scallions from the garden. Roger followed to help.
“It’s already September. The weather’s cooling. Dress warmer when you go out. When Moya comes back, he’ll bring some good fabric. You can make a couple of thicker outfits,” Roger said, scooping a large spoonful of flour from the jar as Lei Jin instructed.
“You’re sounding more and more like a mother hen,” Lei Jin said. Ever since learning Roger was the “mother” of Xiya and the others—and given his own ambiguous relationship with them—he couldn’t get used to it. If Roger kept this “caring mom” act up, Lei Jin was sure he’d be the first to break.
“I don’t mind if you call me father like they do,” Roger said with a straight face.
“Don’t scare me, Roger. My heart’s not that strong,” Lei Jin replied, wide-eyed. He never knew who his real dad was, but it couldn’t be someone who looked about the same age as him, right?
Roger chuckled and stared at him, asking, “You’re really set on leaving?”
“Of course.” Lei Jin peeled scallions as he tried to ignore the slight reluctance in his heart. “By the way, that map you gave me before—I lost it when I fell into the water. Could you draw another?”
Roger paused a long time before answering, “As soon as you decide you’re going to use it, I’ll give it to you.”
“Thanks.” Lei Jin waved the scallions in acknowledgment.
He removed the tops, kept the white stalks, finely chopped them, and mixed them with salt, egg, and flour into the meat. Then he placed it into a clean clay jar.
“Let it marinate. I’ll cook it tonight.”
“By the way, where’s the rice, peanuts, and corn I brought back last time?” Lei Jin looked around the kitchen but didn’t see them.
“They’re stored in the cellar. Want me to bring some up?”
“No, I was just asking. There’s not much left anyway—we need to save some as seeds for next year. Better to be frugal.” As much as he wanted to eat it all, he had to think ahead. A higher level of thought, indeed.
“I thought you were leaving.” In other words, why do you still care?
“I am. But every day, I still want to live well.” It was by insisting on that that he got through the hard days.
Roger looked thoughtful. “As long as you don’t regret it.”
“Roger, I don’t know anything here.” Lei Jin rarely spoke so seriously. It was one reason he had to leave—he was practically useless in this world. “Sometimes, I think the heavens picked the wrong guy. Maybe they should’ve dropped someone capable of everything, someone who could make a real impact, change this world. As for me? Forget it.” His first 28 years hadn't been anything to write home about—no sudden genius turnarounds were likely now.
Roger scoffed lightly. “I never believed one person could change the course of history. You think the people here are fools, incapable of thinking for themselves?”
Lei Jin was about to respond when a sudden, sharp pain in his stomach made him grunt.
Roger quickly helped him sit. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Probably just ate something bad. My stomach suddenly hurt—like someone kicked me.” But he hadn’t eaten anything strange today…
Roger’s face subtly changed. There was always hot water on the small stove in the kitchen lately, since two people in the household were pregnant. He poured a cup and handed it to Lei Jin. “Drink some hot water.”
Lei Jin drank and then went to sit in the courtyard. He felt better after a while.
Roger massaged his lower back. “Have you felt pain like this before?”
“Nope.” Lei Jin held the bamboo cup, the water fragrant with the scent of bamboo.
Roger hesitated. Nearly four months—this might be the baby’s first movement, a greeting to its father. But Lei Jin didn’t know. Should he tell him? After all, it was Lei Jin’s child. He had the right to choose whether to keep it or not.
As night fell early in this season, it was just after five, and already darkening. Mingya returned from the temple and clung to Lei Jin, only letting go when he promised to make meatballs.
Lei Jin took out the marinated meat and shaped it into balls the size of fists—twenty or so in total, since there were many mouths to feed. He first boiled them in a pot, then transferred them to a clay pot, adding scallions, salt, and a bit of honey before covering and simmering. A bit of soy sauce would’ve made it perfect.
Meanwhile, he added some lard to the big pot, fried some chopped scallions until fragrant, then tossed in wild greens and stir-fried them until slightly translucent. Not many seasonings—just a bit of salt before serving.
With the fire still hot, Lei Jin made flour dumpling soup with some chopped scallions and salt.
It still wasn’t quite enough, so Xiya helped cook another pot of meat.
Now that it was cooler, everyone ate indoors. The stewed meatballs were brought out in the clay pot, and as soon as the lid was lifted, the rich aroma wafted out with the steam. Xiya quickly served everyone one. The meat was tender and juicy, leaving a lingering flavor. Even Berg, who wasn’t fond of meat, praised it. Mingya slurped up the remaining broth.
That night, Lei Jin showed signs of a fever. Xiya didn’t dare give him medicine and hoped it would pass on its own. Neither of them slept well—Lei Jin due to discomfort, and Xiya out of worry. Halfway through the night, still groggy, they suddenly heard a scream from Berg’s room…