Axolotl Translations

“Woo—woo—”

“Attention all vessels in Anchang waters, this is a heavy fog warning. Follow dispatch instructions immediately and proceed to the Anchang anchorage for temporary mooring. Repeat: heavy fog warning. Visibility is below ten meters. All vessels in Anchang waters must comply and proceed to Anchang anchorage immediately!”

By nightfall, the yellow fog shrouding the Huang River had turned pitch black, blending into the night like thick ink splashed across the windshield, completely obscuring the view.

The visibility was near zero, and collisions were happening everywhere. By dusk, maritime authorities intervened, enforcing emergency measures: suspending navigation, redirecting vessels, and ordering them to dock at the nearest port.

The Windwing had barely entered Anchang waters when a patrol vessel’s siren wailed through the night. Moments later, an enforcement officer’s sharp voice crackled over the VHF radio, loud and clear in the silent bridge.

At the helm, Grandpa Meng sat up straight, his expression unusually serious.

Gu Mengran stood beside him, hands braced against the control panel, lips drawn into a thin, tense line.

As the announcement ended, he and his grandfather exchanged a wordless glance before turning the wheel and adjusting course toward the Anchang anchorage, guided by the navigation beacons.

The sudden mooring order wasn’t part of Gu Mengran’s immediate plan, but bringing the Fengyi into Anchang had always been the goal.

The earthquake was imminent. The river might seem safe—but beneath the surface, danger lurked at every turn.

Once the ground began to quake, it wouldn’t stop there. Landslides, mudflows, and even dam collapses leading to catastrophic floods would soon follow.

If a fault line ruptured, entire sections of land could suddenly rise or sink, turning the Huang River into a massive pendulum. Everything floating on the surface—all the ‘passengers’—would be flung up, down, and side to side like a violent carnival ride. No safety harnesses included.

A quake of this magnitude could capsize ocean freighters in an instant. A riverboat like the Windwing? It would be lucky to last seconds.

That was why they had to reach Anchang Port—to secure the Windwing as best they could and, more importantly, to take shelter in the safest possible place.

Anchang was a tiny, forgotten port under Shaozhou’s jurisdiction—flat terrain, far from mountains, nowhere near any dam or reservoir. Hardly any ships ever docked there. It was the perfect place to ride out the storm.

An hour later, the Windwing arrived at Anchang anchorage.

Just as Gu Mengran had seen online, the place was practically deserted. Just as Gu Mengran had expected, there were very few ships moored here. With two major ports nearby, any seasoned captain would naturally choose a better-equipped harbor over this remote stopgap.

More open water, fewer ships.

Once inside, the Windwing kept its distance from the few scattered vessels nearby—like a lone, unsociable child on the edge of a playground.

“Clank—clank—clank—”

The anchor chain rattled as the winch roared to life. The thick chain plunged into the dark water, securing the vessel.

Standing on the open-air deck, Gu Mengran adjusted his mask and watched the pitch-black river.

For the first time in hours, the tension in his chest eased—just a little.

This was a prime spot—just the right water depth, a safe distance from shore, and best of all, no other ships nearby. When the earthquake hit, they wouldn’t have to worry about unwanted collisions.

As soon as the anchor touched the riverbed, the winch fell silent, Gu Mengran was about to head back to the wheelhouse when something caught his eye.

In the inky black fog, a red navigation light flickered to life ahead and to the right.

The glow grew brighter, closer.

A fully loaded bulk freighter, slightly smaller than the Windwing, was steadily approaching. Despite the vast empty space around them, the ship seemed intent on docking right next to the Windwing, as if following a textbook parking maneuver.

Gu Mengran: … You’ve gotta be kidding me.

The freighter was packed to the brim, its deck almost level with the river’s surface. From the Windwing’s deck, he had a clear view of its cargo hold and every inch of its deck.

Before the ship even fully settled, a tall, lean figure strode out onto the stern deck, clearly there to assist with anchoring.

Without missing a beat, Gu Mengran rushed to the railing, pulled down his mask slightly, and shouted—

“Yo, handsome guy!”

From the Windwing’s vantage point, he could see the cargo ship perfectly. But from the cargo ship’s perspective, it was like looking up at a three- or four-story building through layers of thick fog.

The man froze for a second, then stretched his neck, looking around.

Finding nothing, he slapped his forehead in confusion.

It wasn’t until Gu Mengran spoke again that he finally looked up in realization.

The guy looked about Gu Mengran’s age—sharp features, friendly expression, the kind of guy-next-door who seemed effortlessly likable.

Their eyes met.

With a quick wave, the man cupped his hands around his mouth and called out enthusiastically,

“Oh! You’re up there! Hello, Windwing! Your ship looks so cool!”

Gu Mengran chuckled. “Thanks! Your… Heng Rong Sheng looks pretty slick too.”

“Hah! Right? I think so too! So, where are you guys headed?”

Gu Mengran answered casually, “From Yuntian to Yinan. You?”

The guy’s eyes lit up. “Whoa, no way! We just left Shaozhou—we’re heading to Yinan too!”

Sailing was a lonely business. Not just a little lonely, but the kind of isolation that comes from being stuck with the same few faces for months on end. After a while, any new interaction was welcome. That’s why sailors were natural extroverts—even a temporary stop at an anchorage was an opportunity to strike up a conversation with the nearest boat.

But now wasn’t the time for friendly chatter.

There were more pressing matters at hand.

Gu Mengran’s smile dimmed slightly. He leaned onto the guardrail and spoke in a calm, friendly tone. “Hey, buddy, can I ask you for a favor? Do you think you could talk to your captain about keeping a little more distance between our ships?”

A flicker of confusion crossed the man’s face. “Huh? Isn’t this normal anchoring distance?”

Gu Mengran lowered his voice, taking on a conspiratorial tone, as if letting him in on a secret. “Look… a relative of mine works at the Geological Bureau, and he told me something… The Shaozhou area has been showing unusual seismic activity lately. There’s a high chance of an earthquake soon.”

“An earthquake?” The young man flinched, a shiver creeping up his spine.“Are you serious? I haven’t seen anything on the news.”

Gu Mengran chuckled lightly, lips curving in an easygoing smile. “Just a little insider tip. Can’t guarantee it’s true, but… better safe than sorry, right? Big quake or small, with our ships this close together, even a little tremor could cause a problem.”

It was a half-truth, just vague enough to let his imagination fill in the blanks.

The river breeze, thick with yellow fog, swept past them, causing the yet-to-drop-anchor cargo ship to sway slightly.

For a split second, the young man could already picture it—the river thrashing violently, their ship rocking like a toy in a storm. Yeah… big or small quake, being parked right next to this giant ship meant they’d be the first in trouble.

No time to waste.

The young man hurriedly pulled out his radio, lips moving quickly as he muttered something into the mic.

Ten minutes later, the cargo ship’s engines rumbled to life, slowly shifting away.

“Appreciate it, man!” Gu Mengran called out, genuinely grateful.

As the Heng Rong Sheng began to move, the young man stashed his radio away and shouted back,

“No, no, I should be thanking you! You’re right—better safe than sorry. Since we hadn’t anchored yet, might as well move.”

Gu Mengran exhaled, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

At least he’d run into someone reasonable; it saved them a lot of trouble.

The Heng Rong Sheng drifted farther away. Gu Mengran waved goodbye to the young man on deck, his gaze sweeping across the ship’s stuffed-to-the-brim cargo hold.

His hand froze midair, his eyebrows knitting slightly. On a churning river, even a lightweight leaf could be carried along by the current. But if that leaf had a heavy stone strapped to it, reaching shore would be nearly impossible.

Ships weren’t leaves. They couldn’t shed their cargo and stay afloat. If a ship capsized, it sank.

Gu Mengran wasn’t one to hesitate. Before the cargo ship vanished into the thick yellow mist, he cupped his hands and shouted, “Hey! If an earthquake hits, survival comes first! If you need to abandon anything, don’t hesitate!”

The guy on deck didn’t seem to fully get it, but he still grinned and shouted back: “Got it! See you, Windwing! Keep the radio on!”

The cargo ship disappeared into the dark, foggy night.

Gu Mengran stretched his arms, loosening his muscles, then pulled up his mask and headed for the bridge.

He’d taken only two steps when he heard footsteps behind him.

A low, raspy voice broke the silence. “A friend of yours?”

Gu Mengran turned.

Liang Zhao emerged from the shadows, clearly just awakened. He spoke to Gu Mengran, but his gaze remained fixed on the spot where the cargo ship had disappeared.

Gu Mengran blinked, not immediately understanding what Liang Zhao meant.

It wasn’t until Liang Zhao stepped closer, his gaze still locked on the river, that Gu Mengran followed his line of sight, then laughed.

“What, were you eavesdropping?” he teased. “Nah, just some passerby.”

Liang Zhao gave a quiet “Mm”, pulled up his mask and stared out at the water, saying nothing more.

…

Seriously?

The guy had a knack for making conversations awkward.

Gu Mengran shrugged to himself. Just as he was about to find another topic, he heard Liang Zhao’s low voice ask: “You just said there might be an earthquake in Shaozhou?”

The mask obscured most of Liang Zhao’s face, making it impossible to read his expression. Even as he mentioned the earthquake, his eyes remained calm and indifferent—no tension, no reaction.

Gu Mengran didn’t answer right away.

He rested his hands on the railing and stood beside Liang Zhao in silence for nearly five minutes before finally giving a vague response:

“Not might. It’s definitely happening. And not just in Shaozhou.”

Liang Zhao frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s head inside first.”

Gu Mengran nudged Liang Zhao toward the bridge.

“The fog’s too thick, and wearing a mask this long is suffocating. We’ll talk inside.”

“Night shift’s almost over. I’m taking over soon.”

“We’ve dropped anchor—no need for shifts. Even if the sky falls, my grandpa’s got it covered. Right now, we need to talk. And trust me, it’s important.”

Gu Mengran half-dragged, half-pushed Liang Zhao back to the lounge, pulled off his mask, and collapsed onto the sofa.

His throat felt dry as sandpaper, but instead of getting up for water, he just bit his lip and patted the seat beside him, motioning for Liang Zhao to sit.

Liang Zhao didn’t move.

He simply reached up and pulled his mask down to his chin.

It was a small, unremarkable gesture—yet it completely derailed Gu Mengran’s thoughts.

The overhead light hit just right, accentuating the sharp bridge of his nose and the clean cut of his jawline. His entire presence shifted.

For a second, it felt like watching one of those transformation videos—where a guy goes from ordinary to effortlessly cool the moment he takes off his mask.

No tricks, no filters—just pure, sharp-edged handsomeness.

Turns out, masks don’t make ugly people pretty—but they sure do a damn good job of hiding a good-looking guy’s full potential.

Gu Mengran was so caught up in admiring Liang Zhao’s face, that by the time he snapped out of it, there was already a warm glass of water in his hand.

Some people look unapproachable. But inside, they’re surprisingly attentive.

Unfortunately…

Gu Mengran let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Liang Zhao was the responsible type. Even now, with his shift overdue, his mind was still on the wheelhouse.

But he didn’t rush.

Instead, he quietly took a seat beside Gu Mengran, careful not to disturb him, patiently waiting for him to speak.

Gu Mengran didn’t drag it out any further.

He took a sip of warm water, wetting his dry lips, then got straight to the point.

“Liang Zhao, what I’m about to say might sound… unbelievable. Completely irrational. It’s going to shatter everything you think you know. But let me be clear upfront—I’m not crazy, I haven’t been drinking, and I have no family history of mental illness. I need you to believe me. No matter what.”

His tone was so serious that Liang Zhao actually found it amusing.

A rare glimmer of warmth flickered in his gaze. “Mm. I believe you.”

Gu Mengran took a deep breath.

“A month ago, I had a dream…”

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