IBO – Chapter 18 It’s Time to Start Planting Trees

This novel contains sensitive and taboo content like R*pe, Mu**er etc. Read only if you are comfortable.

After deciding what kinds of trees to plant, Song Yiran began calling out to Xiao Zhong’er in his mind.

“Xiao Zhong’er, I want to plant a few trees!”

“Woohoo~ I’m here! What kind of trees do you want to plant? I’ve got every variety you can think of!” Xiao Zhong’er asked cheerfully.

“Apple trees and persimmon trees,” Song Yiran continued. “It’s a custom back in my hometown—parents plant a tree for their children, hoping the child will grow up strong and healthy, just like the tree.”

He added, “I want sturdier saplings.”

Xiao Zhong’er sounded a little proud. “No problem at all! I’m a super capable system, you know!”

“Oh right, I also need one more sapling,” Song Yiran said.

Xiao Zhong’er immediately sensed something off. “Oka~y—wait a second. There are only two little cubs right now. Why would you need three saplings? Shouldn’t it be two?”

Song Yiran let out a soft sigh. “Silly. Did you forget that you’re included too?”

Xiao Zhong’er froze. After a moment, a weak voice sounded. “I-I’m already an adult. I don’t need any tree or anything.”

If Xiao Zhong’er’s face hadn’t been as red as an apple, that line might’ve sounded a bit more convincing.

Song Yiran raised an eyebrow. “Really? Some system better not regret it later.”

Afraid he might actually miss out, Xiao Zhong’er hurriedly replied, “Peach tree. I want a peach tree.”

“All right, everything’s ready for you. All the supplies are in the storage room. I’m going to take a nap—bye-bye.” With that, Xiao Zhong’er flashed himself away in an instant.

Watching Xiao Zhong’er flee in embarrassment, Song Yiran couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh. “All these years, and you’re still so thin-skinned.”

“But really… nothing’s changed at all. It’d be nice if it stayed this way forever.” Song Yiran murmured softly. A gust of wind passed by, covering up his quiet words.

He rolled up his sleeves and headed toward the storage room. For now, he should plant the trees first—everything else could wait.

Song Yiran huffed and puffed as he carried the saplings and tools to the open ground behind the student dormitory.

He plopped down on the ground first, then began planning the planting positions in his head. As he thought and thought, his mind drifted far away.

Song Yiran recalled a story from his childhood.

At first, his family hadn’t planted that pomelo tree at all. His parents believed those customs were just feudal superstition—pure nonsense—so they hadn’t planted anything.

But after he turned one year old, a pomelo tree appeared in the yard.

At the time, Song Yiran was still too young to remember anything. All of that period was something his mother told him later.

When he was one, he suddenly fell ill with a strange disease. Every night he was trapped in nightmares, crying endlessly.

According to his mother, he didn’t have a single good night’s sleep during that time. During the day, he could barely eat, and his whole body wasted away rapidly.

His parents were heartbroken and took him to all kinds of hospitals, but no cause could be found.

At first, his father thought he was too young and that taking too much medicine would harm his body, so he learned to make nourishing soups and cooked all kinds of calming broths for him—but none of it worked.

Watching his little face grow thinner by the day and his condition worsen, his father eventually had no choice but to let the doctor prescribe calming medicine.

They tried both traditional Chinese medicine and Western medicine. None of it helped. Every night he was still trapped in nightmares, crying until his heart felt torn apart, unable to get proper sleep. During the day, he still couldn’t eat.

In the end, his parents had exhausted every option. They went to all kinds of Taoist temples and shrines, praying and worshipping, donating large sums of money.

But there were no gods or Buddhas in this world—no deity came to save him.

His condition only grew worse. He became nothing but skin and bones.

His father would hide in his room and cry every day. His mother squatted in the yard night after night, chain-smoking cigarettes.

Everyone believed he wouldn’t live much longer. Relatives came one after another to visit him.

Later, when he was barely hanging on, his condition deteriorated day by day. His parents took leave from work and stayed by his bedside without moving an inch, terrified that if they looked away for even a moment, he would be gone.

One night, his mother suddenly remembered the custom from their hometown. She went straight to the nearest market, picked the strongest pomelo sapling she could find, and planted it in the yard overnight.

From that night on, his condition slowly began to improve, until he eventually returned to normal.

His parents believed that tree was his life-saving benefactor. They treated it incredibly well—buying the most expensive fertilizer and the best pest control. The only thing they didn’t do was light incense sticks and worship it like an altar.

That was the story Song Yiran heard from his mother.

After finishing, his mother had patted his head with lingering fear. “You were only one year old back then, so tiny, and you were tortured until you became so thin. Mom was really afraid of losing you. Luckily, you’re still here. You didn’t leave Mom behind.”

So the question is—did that hometown custom really have any basis? Was that tree really so miraculous?

Who knows?

The answer isn’t actually that important. When it comes to matters of life and death, most people are powerless, nothing more than bystanders.

Some people believe in these things; some don’t. But when it happens to you, even if you don’t believe, you have no choice but to believe. What else can you do besides believing?

You do everything you possibly can, yet there’s still no room for change. If you refuse to believe, all that’s left is to wait for death.

And who would willingly wait to die? Most people wouldn’t.

Reason tells them there’s no scientific basis for it, that no one knows whether it truly works.

Deep down, they understand—it’s nothing more than a sliver of hope.

Song Yiran knew as well that planting trees didn’t really do anything. It was just a beautiful wish. His recovery back then was probably just a coincidence.

But who could know what the future holds? At the very least, for now, he would plant the trees.

He roughly marked out the pit locations in his mind, then picked up the shovel and started digging.

He planned to dig three deeper pits—trees planted this way would survive more easily and grow stronger.

When he was almost halfway done, Song Buli and Song Xiuhu played their way over, dragging the little cart along.

It was Song Xiuhu’s turn to pull the cart. The moment Song Buli saw Song Yiran, he immediately abandoned ship—jumping straight off the cart and charging headlong into Song Yiran’s arms.

Seeing Song Buli bail out, Song Xiuhu refused to be outdone. He gave up on the cart and hurried over as well.

Song Buli threw himself into Song Yiran’s arms. “Big Brother! What are you doing?”

Song Yiran felt like he’d raised a little cannonball—this kid could really pounce.

At the same time, Song Xiuhu firmly latched onto Song Yiran’s pant leg.

Song Yiran first peeled Song Xiuhu off his pants, then pulled both mischievous cubs into his arms for a brief hug before mercilessly setting them back down.

Song Yiran: I have no feelings.

He rubbed their fluffy little heads and explained, “Big Brother is planting trees for you. It’s a custom from my hometown—when there are children at home, you plant a tree for them to bless them to grow up strong.”

Song Buli and Song Xiuhu spoke softly in unison, “Trees… for us…”

“Mm.” Song Yiran nodded. “All right, go play again. These trees need to be planted by Big Brother himself.” With that, he ruthlessly picked them up, put them back into the little cart, and pushed both cart and cubs away together.

Song Buli and Song Xiuhu were pushed back into the yard, while Song Yiran heartlessly went back to digging pits.

The two little cubs sat in the cart, staring at each other with wide eyes.

Song Xiuhu swished his tail and asked, “Brother Lili, is Brother Song always like this?”

Song Buli nodded seriously. “Big Brother has always been like this.”

They exchanged a look, each understanding what the other was thinking, and tacitly changed the subject.

Song Xiuhu: “Brother Lili, are we still playing?”

Song Buli: “Let’s not play. The weather’s so nice—let’s sunbathe!”

Song Xiuhu: “Okay, okay!”

They stopped talking and quietly lay in the cart basking in the sun. As they basked, both cubs grew sleepy. Before drifting off, each of them thought silently: Big Brother / Brother Song is really nice.

Meanwhile, Song Yiran was still working hard on digging the pits, with Xiao Zhong’er also popping out to watch him.

After all three pits were finished, Song Yiran sat down on the ground to rest for a bit, closing his eyes and feeling the breeze brush against his face.

He suddenly spoke up. “Xiao Zhong’er, do you know how this custom is explained?”

Before Xiao Zhong’er could answer, Song Yiran continued on his own.

“The elders say that children love to play, but their souls are too light. They can easily float up into the sky—and once they float up there, they’ll never come back. No matter how their parents call for them, they won’t return.” Song Yiran slowly recounted the explanation he had once heard.

He continued, “So you have to plant a tree to anchor the child’s soul. That way, the child’s soul won’t be so easy to drift away.

Even if one day the soul is to be taken by Black and White Impermanence, as long as the soul clings tightly to that tree, Black and White Impermanence will turn a blind eye.”

“These trees are also called ‘mother–father trees,’ because they’re like the children’s parents—using their own branches to shelter the children for an entire lifetime, until the children grow old,” Song Yiran added.

Song Yiran slowly opened his eyes. “Actually, I don’t believe in these things.”

Xiao Zhong’er was a bit puzzled. “Then why do you still want to plant them?”

“Because no one knows what the future holds,” Song Yiran gave Xiao Zhong’er an answer that seemed completely unrelated.

After saying that, he patted himself off, stood up, and threw himself back into the great endeavor of planting trees.

Xiao Zhong’er watched Song Yiran’s busy figure from behind, deep in thought. Something felt a little off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

Forget it—maybe I’m just overthinking it. With that, Xiao Zhong’er floated back into the space.

In the small cart in the courtyard, the two little cubs lay quietly, cuddled up against each other. Their tails were hugged to their bodies as makeshift little blankets, and the sunlight fluffed up their fur until it looked incredibly soft—just like two dandelions.

This was the scene Song Yiran saw when he finished his work and came back.

He gently lifted them out of the cart and carried them back into the room, laid them on the bed, and tucked them in with their little blankets.

Song Yiran truly hoped that this kind of peaceful life could go on forever.

But time would not give him that chance—he only had this one opportunity left.

The gears of history were still turning. Before the final moment arrived, he had to find where things had gone wrong and set them right.

Song Yiran let out a soft sigh. “History… really is ruthless and precise.”