IBO -Chapter 34 Language Is Not the Only Means of Communication^^…

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

“So fast? Where are they? Where are they?” Song Yiran craned his neck and looked around, trying to catch sight of the cubs.

555 looked at the map and said, “Let me check the map~ Even though I can’t read the words on it, there’ll be red dots on the task targets. I can see the red dots and the distance between them and us.

“Let me see… one, two, three—there are three male cubs! They’re right on the road outside the nursery entrance!”

Song Yiran held 555 and ran to the main gate of the nursery. Standing at the entrance, he scanned his surroundings, and finally—he saw them. Three fluffy little creatures lying by the roadside. Oh my god! They’re fluffy!

Song Yiran was an absolute fluff fanatic, but unfortunately, his original body was allergic to animal fur, so until the day he died, he had never been able to personally rua a single fluffy creature.

Before this transmigration journey began, his body had been modified by the system. Now he was an upgraded version of himself—no longer allergic to animal fur. Hehehe, fluffies, he’s coming~

People were coming and going on the road, but Song Yiran was completely overwhelmed by the sight of fluff. Afraid that even a second too late would mean missing out, he dashed across the road at top speed and scooped all three fluffy cubs into his arms.

Then, like a crazed male monkey, he ran wildly toward the nursery, giggling foolishly the whole way.

Holding 555 and the cubs, Song Yiran rushed toward the room he had just found inside the nursery—the only one among all the open-air rooms that still looked somewhat intact.

The moment he pushed the door open, a faceful of dust greeted him. When he looked up again—whoa, damn—it turned out there was a huge hole in the ceiling, with moonlight and starlight pouring straight in.

Good news: no need to find a light source.

Bad news: if it rains, they’re all doomed.

Let’s just get through tonight first. Tomorrow morning, he’d patch up the hole.

555 checked on the condition of the three male cubs. “They’re not in any life-threatening danger for now. They’re just malnourished, and all three cubs are currently in a state of hunger.”

555 hovered in the air, observing the cubs. Although he couldn’t return to the system space at the moment, aside from Song Yiran, no one could see him, and no one could hear his voice.

In a way, he was lonely. He had lost contact with headquarters, and now only Song Yiran could communicate with him.

Song Yiran placed the cubs onto the slightly cleaner bed in the room, then took out the expired nutrient solution he had dug out of the trash earlier that day.

Damn it—if only they hadn’t run into spacetime turbulence. Then he could be feeding the cubs all kinds of delicious food right now, instead of expired nutrient solution. QAQ

Song Yiran wiped the nutrient solution packaging again and again with his sleeve, then carefully pried it open, afraid of wasting even a single drop. He first fed one tube to the cub that looked like a wolf.

Then, following the same process, he opened two more tubes and fed them to the remaining two cubs.

The cubs, who had been so hungry they couldn’t even move and were lying weakly on the bed, tasted food and couldn’t resist their instincts. They immediately started gulping it down, glug glug glug. In no time, all three cubs had finished their nutrient solutions to the last drop.

Song Yiran looked at the three cubs with a pained expression. They must have been hungry for a long time—so hungry that they drank even expired nutrient solution so quickly.

Song Yiran didn’t know what bloodlines these three cubs belonged to. He could only judge by their appearances. One had very dark fur, like a little wolf.

The one in the middle had orange-and-white fur mixed together, with black stripes on its body, like a little tiger.

The last one was a pure white cub, white as pristine snow under moonlight, looking like a little white ermine.

The little wolf seemed to be the leader among the three. After eating its fill, it shakily stood up on its four paws and chattered a stream of sounds at Song Yiran.

Although Song Yiran couldn’t understand the interstellar language, he guessed the little wolf was probably thanking him or saying something along those lines.

Seeing that Song Yiran didn’t respond, the little wolf tilted its head at him, and one ear drooped along with the motion.

Song Yiran was about to be melted by the little wolf’s cuteness. So adorable! Fluffies are truly the best!

Of course, these thoughts could only stay in his head—he absolutely couldn’t say them out loud. If he did, there was an eighty percent chance the cubs would think he was a pervert.

Even though he couldn’t speak the interstellar language and couldn’t respond verbally to the little wolf—

His mother, Song Hang, had once told him, “If language can’t convey your feelings, then use your actions to let the other person feel those feelings.”

Song Yiran’s thoughts drifted back into his memories. It was a summer afternoon, right in the middle of summer vacation, when his parents had taken him back to their hometown to play.

One afternoon, while Song Yiran was playing with mud in the courtyard, a butterfly suddenly flew in.

That butterfly’s wings were incredibly gorgeous—he had never seen such a beautiful shade of blue before.

So he couldn’t help following that butterfly, wanting to catch it.

The butterfly seemed to sense the danger. Whenever Song Yiran was about to get close, it would fly farther away, and Song Yiran would keep chasing after it.

Gradually, Song Yiran chased the butterfly out of the courtyard—past the roadside, past the fields, to the entrance of the village, to the foot of the mountain, and finally up into the mountain itself.

But then the butterfly disappeared.

Song Yiran got lost in the mountains. The layers upon layers of trees left him unable to tell which way to go, and he could only squat on the ground and cry.

He remembered stories elders had once told him. There was a legend about a kind of butterfly with extraordinarily brilliant blue wings. This butterfly would lure children deep into the mountains.

And then the children would never be able to return home. Such butterflies were called ghost butterflies.

Song Yiran regretted it. He shouldn’t have chased the butterfly. He wanted to go home so badly. He missed his mom and dad so much.

As he thought about it, he began to cry—at first just soft sobs, but eventually it turned into loud, heartbreaking wailing.

Fortunately, he soon met his savior.

A sturdy middle-aged woman found him.

Song Yiran recognized her. When he played by the fields in the village, he often saw her hoeing the land.

Finally seeing someone familiar, Song Yiran cried even harder.

The woman squatted down and wiped the tears from Song Yiran’s cheeks with her large, calloused hands. Then she turned around, gesturing for Song Yiran to climb onto her back.

Song Yiran fussed with his short little legs and climbed up. After making sure he was secure, the woman firmly hooked her arms around his legs and carried him along the road back to the village.

The woman’s back was broad and solid. To Song Yiran, it felt just like his mother’s back, which made him feel even closer to her.

All the way back, the woman walked steadily. On her back, Song Yiran didn’t feel much jolting at all.

Song Yiran couldn’t keep his mouth shut. First he thanked her, then he leaned close to her ear and chattered on about all sorts of random things.

Most of it was about what he usually ate and played with, and things that happened at kindergarten.

But the woman didn’t respond at all, simply carrying him forward in silence.

Song Yiran thought of something his mother had once told him. She said that there were all kinds of people in the world—some couldn’t hear, some couldn’t speak, and some were born with weak bodies.

But these people were no different from ordinary people. Everyone was the same.

His mother said one must not discriminate against people who were different, nor mock them, and especially not place them in a position that “needed help” on one’s own initiative.

Back then, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t help those people.

The teacher had said that one should protect the weak. If he could help others, why shouldn’t he help them?

His mother had patted his head and told him that if he proactively placed those people in a position of needing help, then in his heart, he had already categorized them.

That was a somewhat arrogant way of thinking.

She said that whether a person needed help didn’t depend on whether they were weak, but on whether they had asked others for help.

At the time, he didn’t really understand what his mother meant. Now, he seemed to understand a little.

The woman couldn’t hear. Between the two of them, it seemed like she was the one who needed help.

But in reality, she didn’t need help at all. Instead, she was the one who helped him, carrying him down from the mountain.

While Song Yiran was lost in thought, the woman had already carried him to the entrance of his home and set him down on the ground.

Seeing his parents in the courtyard, he immediately ran toward them on his short little legs.

After hearing about his experience, his parents were filled with lingering fear. Thank goodness for the kindhearted woman who brought him back—there were real wild animals in the mountains. What if he had been eaten by one?

The warm-hearted woman was kept by Song Yiran’s parents for a meal. Afterward, they also gave her some supplements and some homemade pickled vegetables.

They had originally wanted to give her some money as well, but no matter what they said, the woman refused to take it. She hadn’t even wanted to accept the supplements at first—it took quite a bit of back-and-forth before she finally agreed.

Seeing that the woman was about to head home, Song Yiran grew anxious. He wanted to express his gratitude, but he didn’t know how.

He wanted to tell her how thankful he was, but she couldn’t hear, and he didn’t know how to use sign language either.

Song Yiran’s mother, Song Hang, saw what was on his mind.

She patted his head and told him, “Ranran, if words can’t convey your feelings, then use actions to let the other person feel them.”

Song Yiran toddled over on his short little legs, ran up to the woman, and raised his two short arms above his head to form a big heart.

Then he hugged her leg and gave her what he believed was his cutest smile.

Seeing this, the woman laughed as well. She squatted down, patted Song Yiran’s little head, and then copied his gesture, forming a heart above her head too.

After that incident, however, until the fourth grade of elementary school, he lost the right to play by himself. No matter where he went to play, there would always be at least one parent accompanying him.

His thoughts returned to the present, and Song Yiran decided to use actions to express his care for the cubs.

He stretched out both arms over his head and formed a big heart shape, at the same time flashing the cubs a bright, radiant smile.

The little wolf watched for a moment, then turned and said something to the little tiger. The little tiger nodded at the little wolf, then turned and said something to the little white ermine. The little white ermine then nodded at the little tiger.

Next, Song Yiran saw the little wolf and the little tiger use their tails to make a heart shape toward him. After that, the little tiger and the little white ermine also used their tails to make a heart shape toward him.

Ah, so cute! He was going to die from the cuteness! Song Yiran happily clutched his chest—his young maiden heart was about to melt from how adorable they were~