IBO – Chapter 4 The Cub Has a Birthday Now

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

Song Yiran was completely flustered by Song Buli’s sudden, unprovoked burst of crying. In a panic, he pulled Song Buli into his arms and gently began to stroke his fur.

After feeling the warmth around him, Song Buli cried even louder. “Waaah—ahhh—!”

Looking at the little one bawling in his arms, Song Yiran let out a soft sigh and became even more patient as he continued to smooth Song Buli’s fur.

Although he didn’t know why Song Buli had suddenly become so heartbroken, he could tell that, for Song Buli at this moment, verbal comfort was pale and useless.

What Song Buli needed right now was simply patient companionship.

More than ten minutes later, Song Buli finally gradually stopped crying. In those short ten-plus minutes, it felt as though he had cried out all the grievances he had accumulated before.

When he finally came back to his senses, he realized that he had embarrassed himself in front of Brother Song. What should he do? He must have looked awful when he cried.

Just as Song Buli grew uneasy, Song Yiran gently wiped away the tears on his face with his sleeve.

After drying the tears, Song Yiran affectionately patted Song Buli’s fluffy little head and said softly, “Lili, how did you turn into a little crybaby?

“But that’s okay. Even if Lili becomes a little crybaby, you’re still the cutest little crybaby.”

“Lili doesn’t need to feel shy. You’re still little—crying is a child’s privilege.”

Song Yiran hugged Song Buli and gave him a good, thorough cuddle before setting him back on the table.

Only then did Song Yiran remember that the braised pork in the pot was almost ready, so he hurried over.

He turned the heat up to reduce the sauce, stirring constantly. When it felt about right, he took it off the stove.

To welcome their first proper meat dish in the interstellar era, Song Yiran had specially chosen a pink plate, decorated with little flowers.

After placing the braised pork on the table, it was officially time to eat.

However, there was still one problem in front of Song Yiran.

How was Song Buli supposed to eat?

Last night’s nutrient solution could be licked directly, and this morning’s noodles could be eaten by burying his head in the bowl.

But now they were eating rice. If Song Buli buried his head in it again, it would be a bit too inelegant.

Yet Song Buli only had paws—he couldn’t use a spoon or chopsticks.

After thinking for a moment, Song Yiran reached a conclusion.

He would have to feed Song Buli with a spoon.

This was simply too blissful! Feeding a fluffy little one!

The adorable fluffball would stare fixedly at the food in his hand, looking at him with eyes full of longing.

Was this heaven?!

Just thinking about it made Song Yiran’s lips curve upward uncontrollably.

He lifted the bowl covering the shredded potatoes in vinegar and excitedly scooped a bowl of rice for Song Buli.

But something as important as feeding a fluffy baby—how could he use an ordinary spoon?

So Song Yiran rummaged through the cupboard and finally picked out an extra-cute small pink spoon, complete with a little heart on it.

With everything ready, Song Yiran began feeding Song Buli.

One bite of rice, one bite of vegetables, occasionally asking Song Buli which dish he wanted to eat.

In this warm, cozy atmosphere, Song Buli felt like crying again.

He had seen children being fed nutrient solution by their parents before.

Back then, he had only dared to hide far away in a corner and watch.

At the time, he wondered what it would be like if he were a normal child.

Would he be held in his parents’ arms and soothed? Would they feed him nutrient solution like this? Would he no longer have to wander from place to place?

That day, he hadn’t found any food—but he had a sweet dream.

He dreamed that he was a normal child, with an ordinary family. His parents loved each other and treated him well.

In the dream, he could drink fresh nutrient solution. He had a soft little bed, and no matter when, he would never go hungry again.

But when he woke up the next day, the dream had ended—and he was still lying in that patch of grass.

No food, no mother or father, and no place to live.

He was still that “inferior breed” who could only envy other children.

He had once thought he would just stumble and struggle as he grew up in that damp grassland, but then he met his Brother Song.

If this were a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

He really wanted to cry, but this time he couldn’t anymore—if he cried again, he would truly become a little crybaby.

Song Buli tried his hardest to hold the tears back, and this time, he succeeded.

After feeding Song Buli, Song Yiran started on his own meal.

After finishing with a crunch crunch, Song Yiran let Song Buli go sunbathe in the yard while he went to wash the dishes.

Watching Song Buli adorably lying on the ground basking in the sun, Song Yiran felt cheerful as he headed off to do the dishes.

“I love taking baths, my skin gets so nice…” Song Yiran hummed a bath-time song while washing the dishes and asked, “Xiao Zhong’er, is my body no longer allergic to animal fur now?”

“Young man, sharp as you are—last time I forgot to tell you. When your body was modified, this was changed too. After all, it’s necessary for completing the mission,” Xiao Zhong’er explained.

Song Yiran asked again, “Xiao Zhong’er, can you roughly tell me about the situation of children like Song Buli in this world?”

When Song Buli answered earlier, Song Yiran had already sensed that something was off. It seemed that Song Buli’s past circumstances in this world were even harder than he had imagined.

Xiao Zhong’er fell silent for a moment, then slowly said, “In this world, children like Song Buli face severe discrimination. They are called ‘inferior breeds.’”

“At first, people were merely indifferent to their existence. They would still raise them after birth, just without much care.”

“When they grew up, they could find jobs, though never particularly good ones, and would live out ordinary lives.”

“But as time passed, people’s tolerance toward these children grew lower and lower.”

“They were first labeled ‘inferior breeds,’ and later it escalated—once born, they would simply be abandoned.”

“Ordinary orphanages would not take them in, and the orphanages that specialized in caring for such children all went bankrupt many years ago. These children can barely even survive.”

“Even if they manage to grow up through sheer struggle, they can only do the lowest-level jobs, while enduring people’s scornful looks and ridicule.”

Song Yiran stopped what he was doing and asked in a low voice, “Xiao Zhong’er, my mission isn’t just to let them grow up safely, is it?”

“Young man, you’re right. You also need to teach them knowledge—and you must do it yourself. You can’t hire anyone.”

After thinking for a moment, Song Yiran asked seriously, “Is it because of history? Is this an irreversible process?”

“Worthy of being the one I chose. Young man, you’re right. If you fail to do this, both you and I will become ruins of history.”

“This is a journey with no return. From the moment you and I signed the contract, there has been no turning back. We have only one path—that is victory.”

“If we lose, we’ll have to pay for this historical gap with our lives. But if we win, it will be a victory written into history!”

“Young man, do your best! I have great faith in you.”

Song Yiran resumed washing the dishes and asked, “Xiao Zhong’er, will you give me teaching materials? I don’t know how to teach!”

“Don’t worry, young man. I have the most complete educational resources in the entire galaxy. You just need to read what’s written there.”

“And rest assured—these children are very smart. They’ll understand as soon as you explain.”

Only then did Song Yiran finally feel at ease. As long as he had books to read from, it would be fine—otherwise, he really didn’t know how to teach children, and he didn’t want to delay their future.

That said, Xiao Zhong’er’s identity was way too easy to guess, just from its initial self-introduction.

“A loyal guardian of the great God of History”—that already sounded like a diehard fan of the God of History.

This mission was quite difficult, and he wasn’t sure whether he could complete it.

But the top priority was still raising the fluffy little ones well!

After washing the dishes, Song Yiran went into the yard and picked up Song Buli, who had been warmed through by the sun.

Feeling the soft, fluffy heat source in his arms, Song Yiran felt incredibly happy.

Was there anything happier than raising fluffy creatures? No.

Song Yiran carried Song Buli back to the room—it was nap time.

Song Buli was still growing, so an afternoon nap was a must.

After drawing the curtains and tucking Song Buli in, Song Yiran went out into the yard to pull weeds.

These weeds were really in the way—it was better to get rid of them sooner rather than later.

And so, Song Yiran spent the entire noon sweating it out in the yard.

Two hours later, he looked with satisfaction at the yard, now completely free of weeds.

As expected of him—even pulling weeds, he did it perfectly.

After that, he asked Xiao Zhong’er for an interstellar calendar.

He planned to study the calendar first, so he could choose a good day to be Song Buli’s birthday.

He discovered that the interstellar calendar was quite similar to Blue Star’s, just with more holidays added.

However, after fiddling with it for quite a while, Song Yiran still couldn’t pick a good date.

Sigh—his indecisiveness was acting up again.

Judging by the time, Song Buli should have finished his nap. Song Yiran decided to bring the calendar over and let Song Buli choose a date himself.

The moment Song Yiran entered the room, he was greeted by a “little cannonball.” He skillfully caught Song Buli in his arms and walked inside.

After placing Song Buli back on the bed, Song Yiran took out the calendar and said, “Lili, big brother originally wanted to pick a birthday for you.”

“But I couldn’t decide, so you should choose it yourself instead.”

“I know you can’t read it, but that’s okay. You can tell big brother which season you like.”

“Then I’ll flip to that season. You can randomly pick a month, and then choose a number.”

As he spoke, Song Yiran opened the calendar in front of Song Buli.

Song Buli carefully recalled his past four years of life. He couldn’t think of any season he liked—no matter the season, he had always been hungry.

Then he suddenly thought of spring. Right now, it was spring.

It was on a spring evening that Brother Song had brought him home.

Song Buli said shyly, “Spring! I like spring!”

Song Yiran asked gently, “Lili likes spring? According to the calendar, spring has four months.

“They are February, March, April, and May. Which month would Lili like to choose?”

Song Buli thought for a moment and said, “March!”

Song Yiran smiled softly. “Looks like Lili likes March!

“Big brother will flip to March now. You can choose a day yourself—any day is fine.”

With that, Song Yiran flipped the calendar to March.

Song Buli closed his eyes and stretched out one paw, tapping a spot on the calendar.

Then he opened his eyes and waited eagerly for Song Yiran to announce the result.

Song Yiran looked at where Song Buli had pointed and said with a smile, “Lili chose March 12th. Lili is amazing! That’s a great day!”

And just like that, little Song Buli got his birthday—on a spring afternoon.