IBO – Chapter 7 What’s on Xiao Zhong’er’s Mind

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

Song Yiran picked up Song Buli again and rubbed him for a good while before finally, reluctantly, setting him down.

You really couldn’t blame him—Song Buli’s fluffy fur just felt way too good to rub.

It was about time. Most of the moisture in the pomelo peel should have been drawn out by the salt by now.

Song Yiran rolled up his sleeves and began wringing the pomelo peel dry, then transferred it into another clean basin.

Just as he was getting really into it, he suddenly felt something brushing against his pant leg.

Song Yiran looked down and saw Song Buli repeatedly pawing at his trouser leg with his little claws.

Seeing that he’d successfully caught Song Yiran’s attention, Song Buli hurriedly asked, “Brother, can Lili help too?”

He even looked up at Song Yiran with eager, hopeful eyes.

That one move instantly melted Song Yiran’s heart into a soft puddle.

Who could possibly refuse a fluffy little creature looking at them so eagerly—especially when that fluffy thing wanted to help?

At least, Song Yiran couldn’t.

He happily agreed, washed his hands, then carried Song Buli to wash his little paws.

After washing them clean, Song Yiran set Song Buli on the table.

Then he carefully explained the steps: “Lili, all you need to do is help Brother wring some of the pomelo peel dry, then put it into the other basin.

Your paws are still small, so you can take a little at a time. Go slowly, there’s no rush.

If you get tired and don’t want to wring anymore, just tell Brother, and I’ll carry you down to go play.”

Then Song Yiran and Song Buli began their pomelo-peel-wringing time together.

To take Song Buli’s feelings into account, Song Yiran deliberately slowed down his own pace.

Once the speed slowed, his mind had time to wander.

Song Yiran thought of when he was little, insisting on helping his mom wring pomelo peel.

Back then, he had only been three or four years old. After his afternoon nap, he’d seen his mom wringing pomelo peel in the courtyard and stubbornly insisted on helping her.

His mom had patiently taught him what to do, just like this.

He had been small then, without much strength in his hands, and could only wring a few pieces at a time.

His mom had also deliberately slowed down her own pace, just like now, to spare his pride.

He missed those days a little.

Most of the way he raised children came from what he’d learned from his parents. They raised him this way, so he would raise Song Buli the same way.

Since his parents had raised him so well, then he could definitely raise Song Buli well too.

This wasn’t him bragging—when he was young, he’d been selected as a “Three-Good Student” every year, and when he grew up, he’d become a “Three-Good Youth” as well.

He’d always been his parents’ pride.

After spacing out for a while, Song Yiran looked back at Song Buli, who was earnestly wringing pomelo peel with his little paws.

Song Buli struggled to scoop up two or three pieces of peel with his paws, then wrung them with all his might, even his facial features scrunching up as he strained.

Watching Song Buli’s face twist with effort, Song Yiran tried hard to hold back his laughter.

If he laughed out loud now, Song Buli would definitely feel dejected—and might even remember it for a long time.

Just like how Song Yiran himself still remembered being teased by his dad for wetting the bed when he was three.

To distract himself and keep from laughing, Song Yiran focused wholeheartedly on wringing the pomelo peel.

It was as if the whole world no longer mattered—there was only the pomelo peel in front of him.

Ten minutes later, they finally finished wringing all the pomelo peel.

After helping Song Buli wash his paws clean, Song Yiran praised him: “Lili did an amazing job! You helped Brother out so much!”

Song Buli lowered his head shyly.

Just as Song Yiran was about to move on to the next step, he suddenly realized he’d made a fatal mistake.

He’d added the auxiliary ingredients at the wrong time! Chili, ginger, and garlic were supposed to be added when putting everything into the jar—but he’d already added them in advance!

Help, help—he had to think of a way to salvage this, or all the pomelo peel would be ruined.

It wasn’t that he was especially heartbroken over the pomelo peel itself; it was just that Song Buli had worked so hard wringing it. If Song Buli found out it was all ruined, he’d definitely be very sad.

He remembered—when sealing the jar later, he could add some white sugar to fix this.

But then he realized he’d made another mistake.

He should have soaked the pomelo peel in boiling water overnight, but he’d used cold water directly.

Fortunately, there was still a remedy for that too—just change the cold water every day, and after soaking for seven days, it would be fine.

Even though everything had a way to be fixed, Song Yiran still felt dejected.

He couldn’t even pickle vegetables properly. He’d watched people do it for over ten years and still couldn’t manage it—how useless was that?

Song Yiran’s whole mood sank.

Listlessly, he filled the basin with cold water and placed it in a cool, shaded corner.

The rest would have to be left to time.

Then he carried Song Buli and sat down on the steps at the kitchen door.

“sigh…” Song Yiran let out a long sigh.

Song Buli, held in his arms, noticed his mood.

Concerned, Song Buli asked, “Brother, what’s wrong?”

Song Yiran rubbed Song Buli’s fluffy head. “Brother suddenly realized that he doesn’t seem very useful.

Brother doesn’t even know how to pickle pomelo peel.

Brother is such a failure…”

Song Buli immediately grew anxious and hurried to comfort him: “Lili doesn’t know how to pickle pomelo peel either—Brother is really amazing!

Brother is really amazing!

Brother is the best!”

Because he was still young, Song Buli’s words lacked logic; he just kept repeating variations of “Brother is amazing.”

Even so, Song Yiran suddenly felt a little moved.

So this was what it felt like to have a younger brother who cared about you—how nice.

Warmth spread through Song Yiran’s heart. Younger brothers really were healing.

He was just about to tell Song Buli that he was already feeling better—when Song Buli suddenly added, “Brother, didn’t you tell me before too? That ‘no one is born knowing how to do everything.’ So Brother shouldn’t think you’re a failure.”

That’s right. How had he even forgotten such a simple truth? He really was regressing as he got older.

No one is born knowing everything—everyone has to learn.

Just because he’d watched his family pickle pomelo peel for over ten years didn’t mean he knew how to do it himself.

He’d read books for over ten years too, and he still hadn’t gotten into Tsinghua.

He’d been overthinking it.

Song Yiran gently rested his head against Song Buli’s fluffy body. “Lili, Brother was stuck in a dead end. Thank you, Lili. Brother understands now.”

Song Yiran closed his eyes, feeling the fluffy warmth in his arms.

Ah—fluff really was healing.

Having a younger brother was really nice.

Just imagining that there might be many more younger brothers and sisters in the future made Song Yiran grin from ear to ear.

At this moment, he still didn’t know that although he wouldn’t have any younger sisters, he would be facing many “sweet burdens” instead.

Turning around, there would be three or four younger brothers calling him at the same time.

Right now, Song Yiran was still immersed in the thought of “having a younger brother is so great.”

After a long while, he finally began to think about what to do next.

He decided to plant a pomelo tree.

When eating the pomelo, he’d deliberately saved the seeds.

When he was young, he’d always done this—whenever he ate some tasty fruit, he’d keep the seeds and toss them into the soil in the yard.

If he was lucky, they’d sprout, and then he’d have fruit to eat every year.

Unfortunately, his luck back then had been poor. In the end, only one pomelo tree grew—and the pomelos it bore were bitter.

This time, with Xiao Zhong’er around, if nothing sprouted, he could just ask Xiao Zhong’er for a few pomelo saplings.

At that very moment, Xiao Zhong’er sneezed inside the system space and muttered, “That’s strange. I can’t even catch a cold—why did I sneeze?”

Xiao Zhong’er spun around in midair, then resumed observing Song Yiran through the system space.

Seeing Song Yiran sitting on the steps, holding Song Buli, looking peaceful and content—

Xiao Zhong’er was so worried he was practically going bald.

Though, to be fair, he didn’t have any hair to begin with.

Sooner or later, Song Yiran would leave this place. Whether Song Yiran wanted to or not, he had to leave—unless a solution could be found… but Xiao Zhong’er had no confidence in that. What if Song Yiran couldn’t solve it?

If he stubbornly stayed here, no one knew what might happen.

But now, Song Yiran had already formed a bond with Song Buli. In the future, there would be more children, and he would form even more emotional ties with them.

By then… would he still be able to leave?

If he really left, what would happen to Song Yiran? And what about the children left behind?

Xiao Zhong’er didn’t want to think about it. The outcome was very likely not a good one.

He desperately wanted to tell Song Yiran all of this—but he couldn’t.

Once he told Song Yiran in advance, no one could predict what consequences they would face.

After all… they had tried before.

Xiao Zhong’er suddenly felt a little tired of this cold, impersonal history.

He hated this heartless, irreversible, unchangeable, and cruel course of history.

But this was history.

Xiao Zhong’er was so worried his head was about to explode.

Still, there was room for a turnaround. He had a feeling that this time, perhaps there would be just a tiny chance of reaching a perfect ending.

Over here, Song Yiran had started digging holes.

Song Buli also came over to help dig.

Song Yiran planned to dig some shallow little holes, just right for Song Buli to help with his small paws.

Perhaps because he was a canine, Song Buli was especially talented when it came to digging holes.

Even though Song Buli was only four years old, he dug both quickly and neatly.

This made Song Yiran feel rather proud. He had originally thought that since Song Buli was still young, he wouldn’t be very good at digging holes, but he hadn’t expected him to be so gifted.

As expected of my little brother, Song Yiran thought shamelessly.

In no time at all, all the holes had been dug by Song Buli.

Song Yiran himself had only managed to dig a few.

“Lili is amazing! Lili is so good at digging holes—so impressive! Lili is the best! Lili is big brother’s little pride!” Song Yiran praised him with a completely serious expression.

Kids, after all, should be praised more.

Song Buli was so praised that he became dizzy, his brain completely shutting down. All he could do was grin foolishly at Song Yiran, his four little paws practically floating when he walked.

Seeing Song Buli’s silly expression, Song Yiran couldn’t help but laugh.

That silly look was just too cute.

But judging from this, he’d have to praise Lili more in the future. After being praised a few more times, Lili would probably build up some immunity.

Then his brain wouldn’t shut down so easily from just a little praise.

After that, Song Yiran put the pomelo seeds into the holes, carefully filled the soil back in, and pressed it down firmly.

Meanwhile, little Lili’s brain was still crashed.