Axolotl Translations

“Gu Mengran! What are you doing holed up in your room? We agreed to take turns cooking, and today’s your turn! Get out here, your grandpa’s starving!”

The old man’s voice thundered through the door, but Gu Mengran barely reacted.

His gaze remained fixed on the phone screen, staring at the unfamiliar string of numbers. His thumb trembled slightly, hovering over the dial button, caught in the battle between hesitation and impulse.

Liang Zhao.

The Liang Zhao of this lifetime… would he still remember?

Outside, the sound of retreating footsteps faded into the distance, along with his grandfather’s mumbling as he begrudgingly went to cook.

The room plunged into silence.

Sitting back down at his desk, Gu Mengran hesitated—he pressed the call button, then immediately hung up. Pressed it again, then canceled. Over and over, the glow of the phone screen flickered in the dark room, casting restless shadows.

After repeating this over a dozen times, he finally made up his mind.

Then, with a deep inhale, he pressed the button one last time—this time, he didn’t back out.

Holding his breath, he waited.

Beep—

The dial tone echoed in his ear. His whole body tensed, and he shot up from his chair.

Doubt crept in again. His index finger hovered over the red hang-up icon, inching closer, second by second.

Beep. Beep. Beep…

“Hello? Who’s this?”

Only three rings.

No chance to back out.

A deep, indifferent voice came through the receiver, cold and distant, each word sending ripples through his chest.

Gu Mengran swallowed. His grip on the phone tightened. “H-hello… Liang… Liang Zhao?”

He recognized the voice the moment he heard it. A little younger, slightly rough around the edges, but undeniably him.

Liang Zhao.

Gu Mengran’s mind went blank. He scrambled for words, stammering for what felt like an eternity before finally forcing out a stiff greeting.

The response was immediate. “Yeah, that’s me. Who’s this?”

“I—I’m your old middle school classmate.” His heart nearly stopped as he spoke, carefully, as if treading on thin ice. “Gu Mengran. We sat together for a while in eighth grade. Do you… still remember me?”

A beat of silence.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing.

He’d expected this. They’d barely interacted back then, and five years had passed. It would have been stranger if Liang Zhao had remembered.

Swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat, Gu Mengran tried to convince himself it didn’t matter.

The silence between them dragged on, growing increasingly awkward.

Not wanting to let it stretch further, he inhaled deeply and forced a casual tone. “It’s fine if you don’t remember. It’s been years since—”

“I remember.”

Liang Zhao’s voice cut him off.

Gu Mengran froze. “…You do?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. Then, in a tone laced with amusement, he added, “Gu Mengran. The one who never stops talking.”

Gu Mengran’s breath hitched. His fingers, braced against the desk, trembled slightly.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Gu Mengran thought Liang Zhao’s voice sounded a little hoarser than before.

Not that it mattered.

With just that one simple sentence, a warmth spread through him, melting away the cold dread that had nearly taken hold.

Five years.

After all this time, Liang Zhao still remembered him—a classmate he had barely spoken to.

And yet, back then… Gu Mengran had completely forgotten about him.

“You still there, Gu Mengran?”

The deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He nodded instinctively—only to realize the other person couldn’t see him. Hastily, he answered, “Yeah, yeah! I’m here.”

Liang Zhao didn’t seem to care about his flustered reaction. His tone remained calm and unhurried. “So? Why’d you call?”

“Oh! Right!”

The reminder hit him like a jolt of electricity, snapping him out of his daze.

His words came smoothly now, clear and direct. “Liang Zhao, are you in Yuntian? I need to talk to you. It’s important. Can we meet as soon as possible?”

“Yuntian?” Liang Zhao’s voice dragged slightly, as if considering. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Great! How about tomorrow at noon? My treat.”

A brief pause. Then—

“Evening works better.”

Even long after the call ended, Gu Mengran remained frozen in place, his brain still short-circuiting.

After splashing his face with cold water to clear his head, Gu Mengran sent his class monitor, Zheng Yifei, a generous red envelope. In the process, he subtly reminded him to stock up on supplies and, if it rained, to head for higher ground.

Then, he saved Liang Zhao’s number and searched for it on WeChat. When the friend request was finally accepted, the reality of their impending reunion began to sink in.

Liang Zhao… This time, it’s my turn to protect you.

It was embarrassing to admit, but before they’d met in his past life, Gu Mengran had almost no recollection of Liang Zhao. Even racking his brain, all he could recall was a faint impression—a top student, distant and withdrawn, a quiet, brooding boy who seemed to blend into the background.

In the year of the catastrophe, when supplies were scarce, Gu Mengran was sold off for ten measly crackers. From a lawless island, he was passed from one place to another, eventually landing on what appeared to be a luxurious cruise ship.

By that point, he had already cut all ties with Gu Decheng. He had nowhere to go, but he still wanted to live, so he stayed on the ship.

Many other young people had boarded alongside him. At first, Gu Mengran naively believed they were there as cheap labor, forced to work in exchange for food.

Then came the nights.

From the captain’s quarters, disturbing noises seeped through the walls. Some tried to run. Some couldn’t bear it and ended their own lives. Some… willingly climbed into the captain’s bed.

And that was when he realized—

They weren’t just slaves.

They were part of the sick, twisted harem of the ship’s greasy, perverted old captain.

Gu Mengran ran without a second thought.

But escape came at a cost.

In the chaos, he fell overboard. The ship’s razor-sharp propellers tore through his right leg, severing it completely, while half of his face was shredded beyond recognition.

A deep crimson spread through the water, staining the sea like an omen. They thought he was dead. And in a way, that belief saved his life.

Drifting in the freezing ocean, he was as good as a corpse.

Gu Mengran felt his consciousness fade. He saw his grandparents smiling at him, their hands reaching out, inviting him home. Just as he took a step toward them—

A pair of strong, warm hands caught him.

“Hang on, Gu Mengran! Don’t—you can’t give up!”

The one who saved him—

Was Liang Zhao.

The same Liang Zhao he had once forgotten.

***

“Would a T-shirt be too sloppy? But a suit? Ugh, too much. Way too formal.”

Dusk had fallen, but in Gu Mengran’s room, every light was on at full brightness. His suitcase lay open in the middle of the hallway, while the bed was buried under a mountain of clothes.

And in front of a full-length mirror stood the culprit. Gu Mengran was in the middle of his personal fashion crisis—putting on, taking off, changing outfits faster than a desperate live-streamer trying to close a sale.

At first, Meng Gaoyang had come in just to see what the fuss was about.

Now—

His fan had stopped mid-wave. His usual amused expression had vanished.

The old man squinted at Gu Mengran—who was practically strutting like a peacock in mating season—and furrowed his brows so hard he could’ve crushed a mosquito between them.

Gu Mengran remained completely oblivious as he shook out a button-up shirt from the pile on his bed. Turning to his grandfather, he called out, “Grandpa? Why are you just standing there? Give me some actual advice.”

Meng Gaoyang’s expression darkened. “Advice, my ass! Gu Mengran, tell me the truth—who are you having dinner with tonight?”

“I already told you,” Gu Mengran unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it over his T-shirt, still checking himself in the mirror. “A middle school classmate. A guy. Relax, I’m not out ruining some poor girl’s life.”

Meng Gaoyang’s lips twitched. “Relax? Gu Mengran, I raised you—I know what you’re like. You’ve never cared about how you look. You go running around in slippers all day, but now, all of a sudden, you’re dressing up for dinner with some male classmate?”

The glaring contrast between his carefully selected outfit and the flip-flops on his feet was almost comical. After a moment’s pause, the old man instinctively shuffled half a step back—just in case.

Gu Mengran was too preoccupied to notice. His grandfather’s question made him freeze for a second before he muttered, almost to himself, “I’m not dressing up… I just… haven’t seen him in a long time. Can’t look too sloppy, right?”

His confidence wavered, and his voice grew quieter with each word.

Meng Gaoyang shot him a knowing look and let out a low scoff. “I’m not bothering with you. But didn’t you say your dinner was at seven? You’re so busy getting ready, but did you even check the time?”

Gu Mengran grabbed his phone, took one look—

And smacked his forehead. “Shit!”

Even though the sun was still up, the city had already started winding down. A golden haze hung in the air, thick and heavy, making everything feel like it was moving on fast-forward. The streets were filled with people hurrying from place to place, no one lingering. Even the once-lively shopping centers seemed eerily quiet.

Ding—Fourth floor.

Right at seven o’clock, Gu Mengran rushed out of the elevator, slightly out of breath. He picked up his pace and jogged straight into a well-known internet-famous restaurant.

The thick yellow haze had taken its toll on the city. Even during peak dinner hours, this once-bustling hotspot—where diners usually had to wait in long lines—now had only a handful of occupied tables.

Because of that, Gu Mengran didn’t even have to look around. The moment he stepped inside, his gaze immediately found the tall figure sitting in the corner.

Liang Zhao.

The nineteen-year-old version of Liang Zhao—someone Gu Mengran had never seen before.

Liang Zhao had sharp, striking features: a high-bridged nose, piercing eyes, and well-defined brows. His face was angular, deep-set, and exuded an intimidating aura. Not exactly what you’d call approachable.

And the way he carried himself didn’t help either. He didn’t talk much. Didn’t smile. Just sitting there with a neutral expression, he somehow managed to make the entire area feel colder, as if his mere presence had dropped the surrounding temperature.

But compared to the Liang Zhao of twenty-two, there was a difference. This version of him, untouched by disaster, still had traces of youthful innocence between his brows. Dressed in a minimalist heavyweight T-shirt and brown cargo shorts, he looked effortlessly cool—like a laid-back athlete straight out of a sports ad.

Soft music played in the background. Maybe it was because Gu Mengran’s gaze was too intense, but Liang Zhao, who had been casually flipping through the menu, suddenly glanced up.

Their eyes met.

For a second, Gu Mengran forgot how to breathe.

But he recovered quickly, forcing his breathing to steady as he strode forward, pulling out what he hoped was a perfectly natural smile.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late.” He flashed a grin. “Long time no see, Liang Zhao. You haven’t changed much at all after all these years.”

An old-classmate reunion. A safe conversation starter.

It couldn’t possibly go wrong… right?

Gu Mengran sat across from Liang Zhao, his hands resting under the table, fingers unconsciously curling into fists.

Compared to his enthusiasm, Liang Zhao was much more reserved. He gave Gu Mengran a brief glance, nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then wordlessly passed him the menu before shifting his gaze away.

Gu Mengran’s lips parted, like he was about to say something—but in the end, he swallowed the words and lowered his gaze to the menu instead.

“Do you eat spicy food?”

“Yeah.”

“How about beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Seafood?”

“Yeah.”

Their conversation was as dry as a bone. A subtle awkwardness lingered between them.

At least there was something to say while ordering. But once the dishes arrived, the four-section hot pot simmered away, releasing curls of fragrant steam, while the two of them sat across from each other, sipping tea in silence—like two strangers on an uncomfortable blind date, the unfamiliarity between them almost tangible.

This won’t do. I need to get down to business.

Gu Mengran took another sip of tea, then set his cup down lightly. This time, he didn’t avoid Liang Zhao’s gaze. Meeting his eyes directly, he smiled and broke the silence.

“I heard from the class monitor that you’re working on cargo ships in Huangjiang now?”

Liang Zhao’s brows twitched slightly. He let out a low “Mm.”

Same age, different fates. At nineteen, Gu Mengran had just started university. At nineteen, Liang Zhao had already been out of school and working for years.

Liang Zhao had been abandoned by his parents at birth and was raised by his grandmother. He was a determined kid—quiet and not particularly talkative, but his academic performance was always among the best.

But fate was cruel. In his second year of high school, his grandmother was hospitalized and diagnosed with liver cancer. The crushing medical bills didn’t break him. He sold their house, pawned off everything they owned, and secretly dropped out of school to work, keeping the truth from his grandmother.

After a year and a half of treatments, his grandmother still passed away. Liang Zhao never returned to school. Alone in the world, with no family and nowhere to return to, he ended up staying in Huangjiang, working as a crewman on a cargo ship.

Liang Zhao rarely spoke about his past. Gu Mengran had only learned about it in his previous life through bits and pieces he’d gathered. He had felt sorry for Liang Zhao then, but after being reborn, that same job as a crewman had suddenly become a perfect opportunity.

In the tomato broth, shrimp balls bobbed to the surface, while the thin slices of beef shrank into curled ribbons. Steam rose and lingered in the air, but neither of them picked up their chopsticks.

Gu Mengran rubbed the bridge of his nose, then looked up at Liang Zhao, his expression unusually serious.

“The reason I asked you out today is because I wanted to ask you something. Liang Zhao, have you ever thought about switching to another ship?”

“A while ago, my grandpa got this sudden idea to buy a cargo ship. Something about setting up a floating supermarket. But he’s already in his sixties. There’s no way he can handle running it himself.”

Sorry, Grandpa!

Silently, Gu Mengran apologized to his grandpa in his heart before continuing with his carefully crafted story. “Sigh, no matter how much we try to talk him out of it, he just won’t listen. He’s spent his whole life at sea—he can’t stay away from the water. Even when hiring crew members, he insists on joining the ship as the owner, getting involved in operations and management.”

At this point, Gu Mengran deliberately paused, waiting for a reaction. But Liang Zhao simply met his gaze with a calm expression, not giving anything away.

Unfazed, Gu Mengran pressed on. “I don’t feel comfortable letting an old man do this alone. Since it’s summer break and I have my seafarer’s license, I figured I might as well go with him. But I’m mostly all theory and no real experience, it’s not enough. So, I thought, why not find someone else to come along?”

“The other day, I was chatting with our class rep, and he mentioned you were working on a ship. It felt like fate! We’re old classmates—we know each other, we get along. If you joined us, at least we’d have someone familiar around, someone to talk to.”

Liang Zhao raised an eyebrow slightly and stared at him in silence, his expression unreadable. The look in his eyes seemed to say, Do you really think we’re that close? Since when?

Under that gaze, Gu Mengran started feeling guilty, his head unconsciously lowering a little. “Liang Zhao, I know we haven’t talked in years, and my sudden invitation must seem weird. But could you at least consider it? I’m serious.”

A faint chuckle escaped from Liang Zhao’s throat. “Sure.”

“The pay and benefits are negotiable. The main thing is—” Gu Mengran’s head jerked up, his eyes widening. “Wait… What did you just say?”

Liang Zhao leaned back lazily, his usual composed expression carrying a hint of amusement. His deep, still eyes held a trace of a smile as he repeated, “I said, I’ll go. I’ll join your family’s ship.”

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