The Cubs Can’t Possibly Be This Well-Behaved! – CH33

Chapter 33

Number Eight watched Su Ci’s actions with mounting excitement.

Could the caretaker actually know how to play this thing called a “flute”? If he learned how, he could finally show Number Seven who the real fool was!

Eager at the thought, Number Eight shuffled closer to Su Ci’s side, his wide, eager puppy-dog eyes fixed on the caretaker. Even though Su Ci was sitting and he was standing, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

After all, this way, he could get a better view of the caretaker’s movements. Plus, Su Ci looked so frail—if he stood for too long and fainted, who would teach him how to play the flute?

The boy had completely forgotten about the earlier incident where Su Ci had hoisted him up with one hand. His full attention was now on Su Ci’s fair, slender fingers, every joint perfectly defined.

What beautiful hands!

He glanced down at his own rough, scarred hands, curled them into fists, and thought, My hands might not look good, but I have strength. Strength is more important than looking good.

Of course, Number Eight no longer underestimated this seemingly delicate and slender new caretaker. After all…

A scene replayed in his mind—the caretaker lifting him onto the bed, covering him with a blanket, gently stroking his head, and saying in a soft, emotionless voice, “Sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Those words, so light and detached, had strangely stirred something in Number Eight.

He had remembered that promise. So, when Su Ci only spoke to Number Five in the activity room yesterday morning, it had made him furious.

Liar! He promised to come see me…

Though his memory of yesterday’s berserk episode was hazy, he distinctly recalled collapsing in exhaustion and seeing the caretaker, clad in a gray-blue uniform, crouching before him and placing a hand on his head.

The memory was blurry, but he knew he hadn’t imagined it.

When he woke up this morning, he noticed something else unusual. His injuries had healed significantly, his face and hands were clean, and he’d woken up comfortably in his bed.

In the past, whenever he lost control and blacked out, he would wake up alone on the cold floor of his room, amidst piles of clutter, or in the medical pod, surrounded by the tense, watchful eyes of medical staff.

And he knew what those adults called them behind their backs: “little monsters.” He remembered the fear and disgust in their eyes.

At first, it had hurt, but eventually, he turned it into a source of pride. Being called a “little monster” meant he was strong enough to deserve the title!

Even so, he didn’t like facing those adults, nor did he enjoy being confined in a sterile medical pod.

The past two times he had blacked out, he’d woken up comfortably in his own bed. That had never happened before.

And usually, after waking, he would feel nothing but pain and weakness. This morning, however, someone had cleaned his face and applied medicine to his wounds. Otherwise, he couldn’t possibly have recovered so quickly.

Who had taken care of him, treated his wounds? The answer was obvious—who else but this new caretaker?

Number Eight glanced at Su Ci and found him much more agreeable than before.

Of course, that didn’t mean he liked the caretaker. He was simply repaying a favor. It was only fair to be nicer to someone who had helped him.

As the boy’s thoughts meandered, Su Ci had already settled into the chair. He took out a handkerchief from his spatial button and began wiping down the flute, all while recalling the melodies he knew.

Finally, Su Ci held the flute horizontally, adjusted his posture, and chose a lively, cheerful tune from his memory—one that matched the energy he felt from Number Eight. Then, he began to play.

As the first note resonated through the activity room, Number Eight was instantly captivated.

He stared at the caretaker, dumbfounded.

Su Ci’s eyes were half-closed, his flawless, pale hands gracefully holding the flute, his rosy lips lightly pressed against one of the small holes near the flute’s mouthpiece as he began to blow.

The same action, when performed by Number Seven, had always seemed awkward and clumsy. Yet, in Su Ci’s hands, it appeared elegant and mesmerizing.

And the music… it was beautiful!

Even Number Three, sitting quietly in the corner, suddenly lifted his small face and turned toward the sound.

The boy’s light blue, unfocused eyes remained dim, but for the first time, his perpetually silent, indifferent expression showed a flicker of wonder.

He blinked slowly, as though through the ethereal notes of the flute, he was “seeing” something—something he had never witnessed before in his life.

Unnoticed, the metal ball he always held slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Su Ci’s slender and nimble fingers danced rhythmically across the flute.

Each beautiful note flowed effortlessly, weaving into a harmonious melody. His presence seemed to acquire an ethereal, dynamic aura that made his already striking features glow with even greater charm.

As the tune reached its most joyful section, Su Ci’s eyelashes fluttered, and he glanced briefly toward Number Three. He took note of the boy’s reaction, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, followed by a soft smile.

Then, his gaze shifted to the boy before him.

The usually brash and boisterous Number Eight was now wide-eyed, his green irises sparkling with awe and fascination.

Slowly, the little wolf cub crouched down, then plopped onto the floor. Resting his chin in his hands, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, listening intently. Unlike Number Three’s astonished reaction, Number Eight’s face reflected pure enjoyment.

It was Number Eight’s first time hearing such music. He listened, enraptured, feeling as though he had been transported back to the days before he was sent to the nursery on Star Prison.

Unlike Number Five and the others, Number Eight had already been seven and a half years old when he arrived at Star Prison, old enough to remember his past life.

The unfamiliar tune conjured vivid sensations—cool breezes, the fresh scent of grass and dew, the cheerful chirping of birds. He could almost feel warm sunlight enveloping him, gentle and comforting.

But such blissful feelings were fleeting. As the melody tapered off and the flute fell silent, he was jolted back to reality.

Staring at the cold, metallic walls of the activity room, Number Eight felt an overwhelming sense of loss.

“I want to hear it again!”

The boy scrambled to his feet and hurried to Su Ci, grabbing his sleeve eagerly.

Of course, he didn’t dare act spoiled like Number Five might. Realizing his tone was too demanding, he softened his voice and added, “Su Ci, can you play it again? Just once more?”

Number Eight had never known this long tube could be used this way. He had seen Number Seven play it before, but the boy had never managed to produce any sound.

Hah! And he called me dumb? Said I didn’t know how to play?

But as Number Eight gazed at Su Ci with hopeful eyes, the caretaker calmly set the flute aside.

The piece Su Ci had played seemed simple and lively, but in reality, it required skill. Using a technique derived from Sound Cultivation, he had infused the melody with his spiritual power, allowing the two cubs to comprehend the beauty and imagery within the music on their first listen.

Truthfully, Su Ci felt a pang of nostalgia. Sharing glimpses of the earth’s past splendor with these children and seeing their astonished, yearning expressions had been unexpectedly entertaining.

However, expecting him to keep playing?

Even the greatest cultivators of his era wouldn’t have dared make such a request.

Leaning back lazily in his chair, Su Ci replied, “I’m tired.”

“That was barely a few minutes!”

Number Eight’s eyes widened indignantly. Yet, when he glanced at Su Ci’s slender, seemingly fragile frame, he grimaced and closed his mouth.

After a moment, the boy circled behind Su Ci, forming his little fists into mock punches, and began lightly “massaging” the caretaker’s shoulders in a show of flattery.

“When will you be rested?”

The usually fiery-tempered little wolf cub now spoke softly, imitating the nurturing tone of the robotic caretaker. “Can you play for me again once you’ve rested?”

Su Ci glanced sideways at the boy, mildly surprised. Well, this kid sure knows when to bend and when to hold firm.

Su Ci handed the flute back to Number Eight, then pulled out the remaining half-pack of chips from his spatial button. While munching on a piece, he said, “I’m done playing. If you want to learn, I can teach you.”

Number Eight dumbly accepted the flute, but his eyes were fixed on the bag of chips that Su Ci had conjured out of thin air, as if by magic.

It wasn’t the ability itself that surprised him—he’d seen spatial buttons and capsules before, after all.

What caught his attention was the mouthwatering aroma wafting through the air, making his stomach growl.

“Chips! So it was you eating them!”

He had been catching whiffs of that delicious smell all along!

Number Eight gulped, his hand instinctively reaching out to grab the bag. But as his eyes fell on the flute in his other hand, he hesitated.

If he snatched the chips, Su Ci might refuse to teach him how to play the flute. Then he wouldn’t be able to flaunt his skills in front of Number Seven or reclaim his pride!

Caught in a dilemma, Number Eight struggled briefly before reluctantly pulling his hand back. His green eyes turned pleading as he looked at Su Ci and said, with a hint of grievance, “I want some chips. Can you share a little with me?”

He remembered how good they tasted—crispy, savory, and far better than the bland meals served at the nursery.

Su Ci continued munching on chips, one after another, the crunch echoing in the room. Seeing Number Eight’s pitiful expression, he sighed and shook the bag. Then, under the boy’s hopeful gaze, he pinched out a tiny crumb.

The eager anticipation in Number Eight’s eyes turned to utter disbelief.

A fragment of chip, barely larger than a coin, was extended toward him. He stared at it, dumbfounded.

“Don’t want it?” Su Ci raised an eyebrow and began to pull the crumb back.

“I want it! Give it here!” Number Eight blurted, grabbing Su Ci’s sleeve in a panic.

Relenting, Su Ci placed the tiny crumb in the boy’s outstretched hand. Number Eight held it delicately, as if it were a treasure, and nibbled at it bit by bit.

The fragment didn’t last long—it was barely enough to savor. But Number Eight understood how precious even this small morsel was on a resource-starved planet like Star Prison.

Savoring the lingering spicy flavor in his mouth, Number Eight glanced wistfully at the half-full bag in Su Ci’s hands. But he knew better than to expect more.

Su Ci popped another chip into his mouth, easing the hunger pangs brought on by playing the flute. Then he raised an eyebrow at the boy and asked, “So, do you want to learn the flute or not?”

“Yes! Of course I do!”

Frustrated by Su Ci’s refusal to share more chips, Number Eight grumbled but forced himself to look away from the tempting bag. “Stop eating already. Let’s start!”

At the boy’s urging, Su Ci put the remaining chips back into his spatial button, wiped his hands with a cloth, and turned his gaze toward him.

“I can teach you,” Su Ci said slowly. “But what will you offer in return?”

Number Eight froze. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He couldn’t bring himself to whine or act spoiled.

Even Number Five had offered her prized hair clip in exchange for a handkerchief—he couldn’t possibly be outdone by her!

But… he didn’t have any hair clips to trade.

The boy’s expression scrunched into a comical knot of frustration, as if he were grappling with a life-or-death dilemma. He began pacing in circles, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

Su Ci watched with amusement, struck by a sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of how 4586 would spin in circles whenever it felt flustered. Number Eight had even mocked the robot for it once.

Amused, Su Ci decided to wait and see what the little wolf cub would come up with as an offering.

Finally, Number Eight stopped pacing. He seemed to have thought of something, but judging by the pained look on his face, the idea involved a significant sacrifice.

Su Ci’s curiosity was piqued. What could the boy possibly offer? If it was something sincere, he didn’t mind putting in the effort to teach him properly.

After all, the ancient techniques of sound cultivation had likely been lost to time. Passing down these methods could be a fitting homage to the past—and perhaps a way to justify drinking so much of that peach blossom wine from the old Sound Sect’s master.

Lost in fond memories of that fine wine, Su Ci smacked his lips absentmindedly.

Meanwhile, Number Eight finally made up his mind. He bent slightly, stretched his neck, and leaned his head toward Su Ci’s hand.

Blushing, the boy mumbled awkwardly, “If you teach me the flute… how about I let you touch my ears?”

As he spoke, two fuzzy wolf ears suddenly popped out from his gray-black hair with a soft poof.

Su Ci blinked in surprise.

Under Su Ci’s gaze, one of the fluffy wolf ears twitched slightly, the delicate fur at its tip quivering as if inviting him to reach out and touch it.

Number Eight lowered his head, using the motion to hide his blushing face. However, the red hue crept inexorably down to his neck, giving him away.

He had chosen offering his ears as the exchange because he distinctly remembered something from his hazy state of mind the previous day.

The caretaker had secretly touched his ears—not once, but three times!

Number Eight was absolutely certain of this. He had initially debated whether to confront Su Ci about it. But now?

If the caretaker wanted to touch his ears, so be it.

As long as Su Ci taught him how to play the flute, so he could finally show Number Seven who the real fool was, the caretaker could touch his ears as much as he wanted.

Besides, compared to giving up any of his belongings, offering his ears was a brilliant, cost-effective solution.

He didn’t have much to trade to begin with… If letting someone touch his ears could resolve the issue, why not? It wasn’t like Su Ci hadn’t already touched them three times before.

The mere thought of Number Seven’s shocked and frustrated face when he successfully played the flute filled Number Eight with excitement.

Su Ci observed as the little wolf cub, with his fuzzy ears practically presented on a platter, wagged his big tail behind him in sheer enthusiasm.

The sight made it even harder to resist the temptation.

Su Ci leaned lazily against the back of the chair, his dark, tranquil eyes studying the boy in front of him.

What should I do? he pondered.

If he were honest, the ears weren’t the real draw. What he really wanted to touch was the wolf cub’s large, fluffy tail. Its soft, sleek fur looked irresistibly satisfying to pet.

Just as Su Ci considered how to voice this thought, he heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps from the side.

Turning his head with an air of indifference, he saw a surprising sight.

Number Three, who had been quietly isolating himself in the corner, had gotten up. He picked up the metal ball he had dropped earlier and began walking over.

Though the little boy was only about six years old and visibly smaller than Number Eight, he held the ball firmly in his arms. Despite his blindness, his steps were steady and purposeful, carrying him directly toward Su Ci without hesitation.

Number Three’s sleek, jet-black hair framed his small, porcelain-doll-like face. His gemstone-blue eyes, though stunning, lacked focus and vitality, further accentuating his delicate and endearing appearance.

Su Ci watched the child approach, curiosity piqued by the sudden action.

To his surprise, Number Three leaned forward, revealing a pair of small, fuzzy animal ears emerging from his dark hair. Unlike Number Eight’s prominent ears, these were barely noticeable, only about a third of the size.

The ears were as black as his hair, blending in so seamlessly that they were almost invisible without close observation.

Looking at the two furry heads before him, Su Ci couldn’t help but feel a pang of fondness. The scene was undeniably adorable.

Tilting his head slightly, Su Ci asked, “Do you want to learn as well?”