IBO – Chapter 3 Lunch Is Braised Pork and Shredded Potatoes in Vinegar

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

The next day, Song Yiran deliberately got up early to make breakfast for Song Buli.

Looking at Song Buli, who had melted into a soft little puddle sprawled on the bed and sleeping soundly, Song Yiran was overwhelmed by cuteness.

Aaahhh—sure enough, fluffy creatures look the cutest when they sleep!

Trying his best not to disturb Song Buli, Song Yiran tiptoed out of the room.

He even thoughtfully closed the door behind him.

He headed toward the long-abandoned kitchen and once again began his battle with dust.

An hour later, Song Yiran finally ended the fight against the dust.

But this wouldn’t do. There were still many places in the orphanage that needed cleaning—he couldn’t possibly wait until they were needed before cleaning them.

He decided to clean the other areas after breakfast.

“Xiao Zhong’er! It’s your time to shine!”

“Young man, don’t blink.”

As he spoke, a dazzling light suddenly burst out from the kitchen.

When the light faded, the kitchen before him had been completely renewed.

The once-empty stove was now filled with all kinds of cookware, seasonings, and some vegetables.

The cabinets beside it were stocked with grains, oil, and flour.

The refrigerator and freezer, previously empty, were now packed full of food.

“Xiao Zhong’er, you’re amazing! As expected of you—the loyal guardian of the great God of History!” Song Yiran exclaimed in shock.

Xiao Zhong’er was praised until little sparkles practically popped out of his eyes. He said shyly, “It’s nothing special, really—just average amazing. I’m not that impressive.”

After that, Song Yiran began the most important task of the day: making breakfast.

After all, the plan of the day starts in the morning. People are iron, food is steel—skip one meal and you’ll be starving.

Today, he planned to make the Song family’s secret noodles.

He put a pot on to boil water. Once the water boiled, he added the noodles. When they were fully cooked, he fished them out and placed them in bowls.

Then came the key step: simmering the secret sauce.

Whether the noodles were good or not depended entirely on the sauce.

He poured the prepared secret sauce over the noodles, ladled a spoonful of hot oil on top, and finally mixed everything together.

This—was the Song family’s secret noodles.

What Song Yiran was most proud of in his cooking skills was this very dish. It was a family recipe passed down through generations.

Once the noodles were ready, Song Yiran was just about to go wake Song Buli to wash up and eat when Xiao Zhong’er stopped him.

“Wait, young man. Turn around and take another look at the noodles you made.”

Confused, Song Yiran turned back to look at his noodles. With that single glance, his young heart suffered a massive shock.

Help! Why are the noodles glowing? And why is it golden light?!

Help! Why is that familiar BGM playing?!

Why are there little fairies flying around his noodles, playing instruments with blissed-out expressions?!

Help! Why do they think I’ve never watched Chūka Ichiban?!

Aaahhh—his inner voice of complaint couldn’t be suppressed anymore!

Bringing anime scenes straight into reality—this is way too cringey! No human could think of something like this!

Then again, Xiao Zhong’er isn’t human.

But still—this is way too chuuni!

Looking exhausted, Song Yiran asked numbly, “Xiao Zhong’er, I’m begging you—can we do something a little less chuuni next time?”

“Alright.” Xiao Zhong’er replied, sounding slightly regretful.

After settling things with Xiao Zhong’er, Song Yiran went to look for Song Buli.

Before leaving, worried that the noodles would lose their heat, he even covered the two bowls with other bowls.

Song Yiran pushed open the bedroom door and pulled back the curtains.

In an instant, soft sunlight flooded the entire room.

He gently patted Song Buli’s back and said with a light laugh, “Xiao Lili, if you don’t get up soon, the sun’s going to shine on your butt.”

Song Buli slowly woke from his dreams. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw the room filled with sunlight and Song Yiran’s smiling face.

So yesterday hadn’t been a dream after all—how wonderful!

Song Buli excitedly bounced out of bed and threw himself into Song Yiran’s arms.

Thanks to yesterday’s experience, Song Yiran was already prepared for this little “cannonball” that would occasionally launch itself at him.

After holding Song Buli securely in his arms, he walked toward the bathroom, first letting Song Buli take care of his bladder.

Then he patiently helped Song Buli wash his face and brush his teeth. After all, with those tiny little paws, it would probably be difficult for Song Buli to do it himself.

Song Buli felt a little at a loss—this was the first time someone had ever patiently helped him wash up.

After finishing Song Buli’s washing, Song Yiran began washing up himself.

Unlike the patience he showed Song Buli, Song Yiran dealt with his own washing in a very perfunctory manner.

Once they were done, Song Yiran carried Song Buli and strolled leisurely toward the kitchen, like an old man out for a walk.

Since the chairs were too tall for Song Buli to sit comfortably at the table, Song Yiran placed him directly on the tabletop and sat down across from him.

After lifting the bowls covering the noodles, the two of them officially began eating.

Song Buli had never seen food like this before, but it smelled incredibly good.

After taking one bite, he discovered that it was delicious—and immediately entered full-on devouring mode.

For a while, the only sound left in the kitchen was slurp slurp slurp.

Ten minutes later—burp.

Song Yiran leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach with a satisfied expression, and confidently asked, “Lili, was it good?”

Everyone who had ever eaten his Song family secret noodles had praised them endlessly.

Song Buli, his belly round and full as he lay sprawled on the table, said contentedly, “Delicious!”

“Then big brother will make braised pork for you at lunch,” Song Yiran said, feeling rather smug at Song Buli’s enthusiastic response.

Although Song Buli didn’t know what braised pork was, he knew that anything Song Yiran cooked was delicious, so he happily replied, “Okay!”

After the meal, Song Yiran let Song Buli go play in the courtyard while he washed the dishes.

Song Buli didn’t go far—he just chased butterflies in a spot where he could see the kitchen as soon as he lifted his head.

He was afraid that if he went too far, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back.

Sunlight gently spilled over Song Buli’s body, and a light breeze softly ruffled the thick fur on him.

The courtyard was just as desolate as it had been yesterday, but to Song Buli, it felt different from yesterday.

He felt that the grass here was full of vitality, that the sunlight was gentler than outside, and that the wind here made him happier than the wind beyond these walls.

After playing for a while, Song Buli ran back to the kitchen entrance. He didn’t go inside, but lay down at the doorway instead.

He could hear Song Yiran inside the kitchen, humming a tune he’d never heard before while washing the dishes.

To be honest, Song Yiran’s singing wasn’t good—one could even call it noise. But Song Buli liked it very much.

The sound of running water in the kitchen mixed with Song Yiran’s singing gave him a feeling of happiness, and made him realize more clearly that he now had a home.

When Song Yiran finished washing the dishes and came out, he saw this scene.

A little wolf cub lay quietly at the doorway, looking peaceful and serene. The moment it saw him come out, it immediately jumped up and pounced toward him.

Song Yiran skillfully caught Song Buli, this “little cannonball.”

He felt like he was nothing more than a heartless “hugging machine.”

Lowering his head, he met Song Buli’s pair of big, sparkling eyes staring straight at him.

The sunlight was just right, the breeze gently blew past, and he had a fluffy little one in his arms. Song Yiran felt that at this very moment, he was truly a winner in life.

Looking at the adorable Song Buli, and then thinking about the classrooms, rooms, and courtyard waiting to be cleaned, Song Yiran was instantly filled with motivation. No matter how hard it was, the kids must not suffer.

So that entire morning, Song Yiran spent his time repeatedly fetching water, changing water, and wringing out rags.

Song Buli, meanwhile, stayed in the courtyard watching Song Yiran the whole morning. He wanted to help too, but Song Yiran refused with the excuse, “You’re still too little. You don’t need to help.”

Looking at the results of a whole morning’s work, Song Yiran felt very satisfied. As expected of him—everything was cleaned so well.

Although he was a bit tired, seeing the well-behaved Song Buli filled him with energy again, making him feel like he could fight another five hundred rounds.

He picked Song Buli up and walked toward the kitchen, saying gently, “Xiao Lili, have you been waiting a long time? Big brother will make braised pork for you.”

After placing Song Buli on the kitchen table, Song Yiran got busy.

He first set the rice to cook, then started on the braised pork.

He blanched the sliced pork belly, then stir-fried it, added soy sauce, cooked it until the sugar caramelized, added water, brought it to a boil over high heat, and then let it simmer over low heat.

Just eating meat wasn’t nutritious enough. Song Buli was still growing, so he needed a balance of meat and vegetables.

While the braised pork was simmering, Song Yiran decided to make another dish—stir-fried shredded potatoes with vinegar.

He tossed the shredded potatoes into the pan, stir-fried them, added sliced chili peppers, then a bit of white vinegar, and once done, took them out of the pan.

Song Yiran served the shredded potatoes onto a plate and placed it on the table. Worried that they’d cool down by the time the braised pork was ready, he covered them with a bowl to keep the heat in.

At this moment, the braised pork was still simmering.

Song Yiran sat across from Song Buli, waiting together for the braised pork to be done.

He felt this was a good time to learn a bit more about Song Buli.

He gently patted Song Buli’s head and asked softly, “Lili, big brother forgot to ask you earlier—how old are you this year?”

Song Buli thought carefully for a moment and replied uncertainly, “Probably… four years old.”

Song Yiran was a little puzzled and asked strangely, “Lili, why ‘probably’?”

Song Buli said softly, “I heard them say that every year you grow one year older, but I don’t have a calendar.

“I secretly looked at other people’s calendars before, but I couldn’t understand them.

“I remember going through four winters, but I’m not sure if there was a year when it didn’t snow.”

Song Buli hated winter the most, because in winter he couldn’t find anything to eat.

Every time it snowed, he could only shiver in the grass, starving. He had lost count of how many times he’d nearly frozen to death during winter.

He remembered winter especially clearly, because every time, it was a narrow escape from death.

But thankfully, he hadn’t frozen to death—otherwise, he wouldn’t have met Brother Song.

Song Yiran felt his heart ache for this poor little thing, and silently decided that from now on, he would celebrate Song Buli’s birthday every year.

With a pained heart, Song Yiran asked, “Lili, then do you remember your birthday?”

Song Buli shook his head blankly.

He found it strange that Brother Song would ask such a question. “Defective breeds” didn’t have birthdays, because their birth brought a huge blow to a family.

Especially for the one who gave birth to them—after enduring ten months of pregnancy, giving birth only to a “defective breed” was an enormous blow.

So they had no birthdays. After all, the day they were born was the day a family fell apart.

Song Yiran felt even more heartbroken, looking at Song Buli with tender, pitying eyes.

Lili was just too pitiful. From now on, he had to cherish him well and let him grow up happy and carefree.

Song Yiran gently stroked Song Buli’s fluffy little head and said softly, “Lili, this afternoon I’ll pick a good day and make it your birthday. From now on, we’ll celebrate your birthday every year!

“The birthdays you didn’t get to have in your first four years—big brother will make them up to you.”

Song Buli stared blankly at Song Yiran, feeling like he was about to cry.

Why was Brother Song so good to him?

He gave him good food, gave him a name, let him sleep on a bed.

He always hugged him, patted his head, and now even said he’d celebrate his birthday.

Why did he get to meet such a wonderful Brother Song?

He really wanted to cry, but crying would probably look ugly. Forget it—better not cry.

Song Buli tried desperately to hold back his tears, afraid that crying would look too ugly, but he couldn’t help it anymore.

In the end, he threw himself into Song Yiran’s arms and burst into loud sobs, “Waaahhh—!”