Axolotl Translations

Shangguan Yu spent a restless night, tossing and turning. Sleep eluded him, his mind too unsettled. It wasn’t until almost two in the morning that exhaustion finally claimed him.

He usually woke up at eight, but this morning, he slept straight through until nearly nine.

After getting ready, he hesitated at his bedroom door, unsure whether to go to the living room. After everything that had happened the night before, facing Zuo Zhou again felt… awkward.

Zuo Zhou had said he was leaving today. Had he already gone?

Shangguan Yu considered this for a moment before wheeling himself to the door. He tilted his head, listening for any sounds from outside. After a while of hearing nothing, he couldn’t help but chuckle at himself.

This was his own home. Why was he acting like he needed to hide? Besides, even if things were awkward, that didn’t mean they couldn’t see each other again.

Because deep down, he knew—he didn’t want to cut Zuo Zhou out of his life completely.

With that thought, Shangguan Yu straightened his posture, opened the door, and wheeled himself into the living room.

On the dining table, a neatly prepared breakfast sat waiting, thoughtfully covered with bowls and plates to keep it warm. But Zuo Zhou was nowhere to be seen.

Shangguan Yu let out a quiet breath—relief. Almost immediately, though, an unexpected wave of emptiness washed over him, a hollow feeling settling deep in his chest.

He couldn’t explain it. And worse, he didn’t understand why he felt this way at all.

Shangguan Yu inhaled deeply, suppressing the unfamiliar emotions rising within him. Pushing his feelings aside, he slowly maneuvered his wheelchair toward the dining table and lifted the neatly covered plates and bowls.

Perhaps because it was the last breakfast Zuo Zhou had made for him, the meal was particularly lavish. Four different side dishes, along with steaming xiaolongbao, soft huajuan rolls, and crispy youtiao, still carried a faint warmth. He wasn’t sure if Zuo Zhou had anticipated him waking up late or if he had come back earlier to reheat the food.

The thought left a faint bitterness in Shangguan Yu’s chest. His eyes stung slightly, but he shook it off. He picked up a huajuan, took a bite, and chewed absentmindedly. It tasted bland.

There was no note on the table. No messages on his phone.

So Zuo Zhou had left without a word—because of what he had said last night? Was he angry?

As he ate mechanically, the thought gnawed at him.

Maybe he had been too harsh, especially when he offered to keep supporting Zuo Zhou financially, as if assuming he needed the money.

He hadn’t meant it as an insult. He had only wanted Zuo Zhou to leave as soon as possible.

But now, recalling the look on Zuo Zhou’s face… it seemed he had genuinely been hurt.

Shangguan Yu couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Yes, Zuo Zhou had hidden the truth about his real identity, but over the past few weeks, everything he had done to take care of him had been genuine. Every little detail, every act of patience—it was impossible to ignore. If it wasn’t heartfelt, then what else could it be?

And yet, despite Zuo Zhou’s sincerity, he had been deeply hurt by his words.

The more Shangguan Yu thought about it, the worse he felt. His chest tightened, and even his breakfast lost its appeal. He set down the nearly finished huajuan, leaned back in his wheelchair, and let out a heavy sigh.

At that moment, he suddenly heard a noise from the front door.

At first, he thought he was mistaken. But as the sound of the door unlocking grew louder and clearer, there was no doubt—it wasn’t his imagination.

Aside from himself, only Wang Hao and Zuo Zhou knew the passcode to his home. And at this hour, Wang Hao definitely wouldn’t be dropping by.

Holding his breath, Shangguan Yu unconsciously straightened in his wheelchair, his gaze fixed on the entrance.

A second later, the door swung open.

Zuo Zhou stepped in, his hands full of shopping bags, looking weighed down.

He saw Shangguan Yu and paused briefly. Then, with a bright smile, he said, “Brother Yu, you’re awake?”

“…Yeah.”

Shangguan Yu responded absentmindedly, still feeling dazed. Just moments ago, he had convinced himself that Zuo Zhou had left without a word because of what happened last night.

“Is your breakfast cold? Do you want me to heat it up?” Zuo Zhou glanced at the barely touched food on the table, his tone concerned.

“No, it’s fine,” Shangguan Yu replied. Then, worried Zuo Zhou might misunderstand, he added, “I just woke up and sat down to eat.”

“Oh, alright then. Enjoy your meal.” Zuo Zhou smiled, seemingly oblivious to the slight awkwardness in Shangguan Yu’s words. “I’ll go put these away.”

With that, he walked into the kitchen, his hands still full of bags, and began unpacking with practiced efficiency. As he worked, he called out over his shoulder, “I bought a bunch of semi-prepared meals. You just need to heat them up or boil them—not as good as fresh, but definitely healthier than takeout.”

“The dumplings and wontons are on the bottom shelf of the fridge. I also got pizza and beef pies—just pop them in the oven at 180°C for ten minutes, and they’ll be ready. If you can’t remember, don’t worry. I’ll write it down and stick it on the packaging, so you’ll see it when you grab them.”

“Oh, and I got your favorite black sesame tangyuan, but they were out of the sugar-free ones, so I had to get the regular kind. Brother Yu, remember, don’t eat more than four at a time, alright?”

“And there’s also the vacuum-sealed roast chicken, roast goose, and beef. You can eat them straight out of the bag, but they probably have a lot of preservatives, so it’s best not to eat them too often—maybe once every couple of weeks…”

As Shangguan Yu sat at the dining table, listening to Zuo Zhou meticulously plan out his meals, a strange feeling stirred in his chest.

Between the two of them, Zuo Zhou was clearly the younger one, yet ever since they had reunited as adults, it was always Zuo Zhou taking care of him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And it wasn’t just because of his disability. Shangguan Yu knew that even before the accident, he could never have been as thoughtful and attentive as the 20-year-old standing before him now.

After finishing in the kitchen, Zuo Zhou walked back out and noticed that the breakfast was mostly untouched. He came over, crouched down in front of Shangguan Yu, and looked up at him.

“Brother Yu, why aren’t you eating? Doesn’t it taste good?”

“…No, I’m just not hungry.”

“Oh… then how about I peel an egg for you? You can have the egg white, and I’ll take the yolk?”

“…No need.”

Shangguan Yu suddenly recalled that when Zuo Zhou first arrived at his home, he had immediately known that he disliked egg yolks. He even remembered all the dishes Shangguan Yu’s mother used to cook and had prepared them for him.

Back then, he had chalked it up to coincidence and hadn’t thought much of it. But now, realizing that Zuo Zhou still remembered so many details from those brief two months they had spent together nine years ago… he was momentarily speechless.

“Okay,” Zuo Zhou said, leaning in and casually resting his arm on Shangguan Yu’s leg. “I’ll put it away for now. Just warm it up when you’re ready to eat.”

“……”

Shangguan Yu barely registered his words. The moment Zuo Zhou’s arm touched his leg, the close proximity sending a jolt through him, his mind went blank.

It was a strange sensation—his lower leg felt numb, yet through the fabric, Zuo Zhou’s warmth seemed to burn.

Zuo Zhou propped his chin on his hand, a slight lift to his brow, and looked up at him. “Brother Yu, I’m worried about leaving you alone. How about I stay until you find a new caregiver—someone who’s a good fit?” he asked gently.

“………………”

Shangguan Yu stiffly lowered his gaze and met Zuo Zhou’s pleading gaze. His brain short-circuited again.

Why hadn’t he noticed before? Zuo Zhou, who was always laughing, always full of warmth, had eyes that were this…captivating. One look, and Shangguan Yu felt he’d agree to anything.

But before he could fully process the thought, Zuo Zhou blinked, straightened, and pulled back.

“Never mind,” he said. “I promised I’d leave this morning, and I’ve already dragged it out for hours. I really have to go now.”

Zuo Zhou smiled, a mix of regret and reluctance in his expression, then stood and began clearing the table.

Shangguan Yu watched in silence as Zuo Zhou methodically tidied up. When he finished, he went into the study and returned with his old, worn backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Brother Yu, I haven’t finished this yet,” Zuo Zhou said, holding up the suspense novel. “Can I borrow it? I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”

“Mm, go ahead.”

“Thanks, Brother Yu. Well… I’ll be going then.”

Zuo Zhou took the book and walked to the door. Just as he reached it, he stopped, turned, and smiled. “Brother Yu, I guess this is goodbye.”

The words resonated deep within Shangguan Yu.

A wave of emotions washed over him—reluctance, a strange sense of loss, and a nagging uncertainty he couldn’t quite place.

But what was done was done. Shangguan Yu wouldn’t go back on his decision. He nodded, meeting Zuo Zhou’s gaze, perhaps even managing the ghost of a smile.

“Goodbye.”

After Zuo Zhou left, the house felt vast and empty again, leaving Shangguan Yu alone.

He’d lived alone for so long.

So why did it suddenly feel so unbearably hollow—as if something inside him had gone with Zuo Zhou?

Shangguan Yu took a deep breath, trying to suppress the turmoil of emotions churning inside him. He turned his wheelchair and rolled deeper into the house.

That Saturday afternoon, Shangguan Yu lay in bed, lost in sleep. Even after waking, he had no desire to move, no motivation to get up. He simply tossed and turned, barely registering the passage of time.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

He ignored it, letting it go to voicemail.

But the ringing persisted—a relentless, insistent buzz. The call ended, then started again. Ended, then rang once more. Finally, on the third ring, Shangguan Yu, exasperated, answered.

Before Shangguan Yu could speak, Wang Hao’s frantic voice boomed through the speaker.

“Thank God, Shangguan, you finally answered! One more missed call, and I was calling the police!”

“… “

Shangguan Yu winced, his ears ringing. He held the phone slightly away and said flatly, “What is it?”

“What is it? I came to check if you’re still alive! Are you even home? I knocked for ages, and you didn’t answer! Don’t tell me you went out?”

Now that he mentioned it, Shangguan Yu vaguely remembered hearing someone knocking while he was half-asleep. But he’d been in no mood to deal with anyone, so he’d simply pulled the blanket over his head and ignored it.

“…I’m home. Come on in.”

“Ugh, I forgot the code again. What’s the last number? If I remembered, would I still be standing out here?” Wang Hao grumbled, then chuckled, his usual carefree self. “Oh, by the way, is Xiao Zuo at school? I tried calling him, but he didn’t answer…”

Shangguan Yu paused. His first thought was, How does Wang Hao have Zuo Zhou’s number? But then he remembered Wang Hao still didn’t know Zuo Zhou had left. He’d even called him earlier. With a sigh, Shangguan Yu pushed the thought aside.

“The code is 11331331. Just come in.”

“Got it!”

Shangguan Yu hung up and reluctantly dragged himself out of bed.

By the time Shangguan Yu reached the living room, Wang Hao had already unloaded a mountain of shopping bags onto the dining table and was meticulously unpacking them.

Hearing movement, Wang Hao looked up—then immediately let out a shriek.

“Holy crap! Shangguan—you! You, you, you—what the hell happened to you?!”

“…”

Shangguan Yu stopped, unimpressed. “What do you mean?”

“How many days have you gone without a shower? Your hair looks like a damn bird’s nest—how are you not uncomfortable?”

Shangguan Yu froze for a second before realizing—yeah, it had been three days since his last shower. To be precise, ever since Zuo Zhou left on Wednesday, he hadn’t bathed once.

He hadn’t changed his clothes, and his hair was a mess. No wonder Wang Hao was so shocked.

Shangguan Yu had always been meticulous about his appearance. He showered and groomed himself daily. Aside from the dark period after his accident, when he’d been deeply depressed, he’d always taken care of himself—even with limited mobility. Going days without washing like this was definitely out of character.

“…I was going to shower today,” Shangguan Yu said calmly. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and don’t bother contacting Xiao Zuo anymore. He’s not my caregiver anymore.”

“Huh? Why?” Wang Hao stopped unpacking, genuinely confused. “Did you not pay him enough? Or did he just get tired of your gloomy face?”

“…Neither.”

Shangguan Yu hesitated. He was about to explain when Wang Hao’s phone rang.

“Hm?” Wang Hao glanced at the screen. “Oh—Xiao Zuo’s calling me back.”

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