Axolotl Translations

What should he say?

“About what I said that day… don’t take it the wrong way. That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m doing fine. No need to worry.”

“Do you have enough for living expenses? For tuition? Need any help?”

…

Shangguan Yu realized he had so much he wanted to say to Zuo Zhou. But as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing, deleting, revising, rewording, he couldn’t seem to form a single sentence.

He sighed, erased everything, locked his phone, and tossed it onto the sofa—out of sight, out of mind.

After dinner, Wang Hao, thinking he was doing Shangguan Yu a favor, lingered to keep him company. But after the eighteenth gush about how wonderful his relationship with his girlfriend, Xiao Qiu, was, Shangguan Yu finally snapped and threw a couch cushion at his face.

“Enough already! I swear I’m fine. Now get out!”

Perhaps that single message from Zuo Zhou had broken some invisible barrier because, from that day forward, he messaged Shangguan Yu every day, initiating conversations on WeChat.

Zuo Zhou mostly asked about what Shangguan Yu had eaten, if he’d had anything to drink, and whether he was feeling unwell. Occasionally, he’d share snippets of his own day—his classes, new things he’d learned, or interesting experiences.

Every few days, he’d also ask if Shangguan Yu had found a suitable housekeeper.

Without Zuo Zhou’s reminders, Shangguan Yu might have completely forgotten about the agency’s call about a potential candidate.

But for some inexplicable reason, he didn’t feel like hiring a new housekeeper so soon after Zuo Zhou’s departure. The fridge was still full of food, and he barely ate anything anyway. A few more days wouldn’t matter.

Naturally, he wouldn’t admit this to anyone. So, whenever Zuo Zhou asked, his response was always the same: “Still looking.”

***

Friday night.

After dinner, Shangguan Yu wandered around the living room, listening to music.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

His first thought was, It must be Zuo Zhou.

He quickly muted the TV with a voice command, stopped pacing, and pulled out his phone.

Sure enough, it was a WeChat message from Zuo Zhou.

“Brother Yu, have you eaten?”

“Yeah, I have.”

After the usual pleasantries—making sure everything was alright—Zuo Zhou abruptly changed course and sent a crying emoji.

This was the first time Zuo Zhou had ever used a crying face. He normally only used smiley ones.

Shangguan Yu was puzzled. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Zuo Zhou’s status showed “Typing…” for a long moment.

Shangguan Yu waited, expecting a lengthy message.

But after all that time, only four words appeared: “Brother Yu, it hurts.”

What?!

Shangguan Yu’s chest tightened. “What happened?” he immediately replied.

Zuo Zhou sent a photo.

The image showed his forearm encased in a cast.

“You’re injured? What happened?”

Shangguan Yu waited anxiously for a reply.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but Zuo Zhou seemed to be taking longer to respond after sending the photo.

“Yeah, I fractured my arm,” he finally wrote. “It really hurts, Brother Yu. It’s been aching all afternoon, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I’m typing with one hand, so I’m a bit slow. And my dormmates are here, so I don’t want them overhearing our conversation.”

Shangguan Yu wasn’t sure why their conversation needed to be private, but he didn’t press it and got straight to the point.

“How did it happen?”

“I was playing basketball a few days ago and took a hit.”

“Why are you just telling me now?”

“I… I didn’t want you to worry. I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s really painful today…”

Two crying emojis followed.

Shangguan Yu’s emotions were a tangled mess—an ache in his chest, a ticklish, uncomfortable feeling. And beneath it all, an overwhelming sense of distress.

He’d broken bones before. He knew how excruciating it could be.

He wanted to offer some comfort, but after a moment’s thought, he couldn’t find the right words. Instead, he asked, “Where did you get it checked out?”

“The campus clinic.”

…

“For a fracture, a proper hospital is better. The campus clinic’s resources are limited.”

“It’ll be okay, right?”

“Hopefully.”

“But I get a discount with my student ID at the campus clinic.”

…This is no time to be worrying about discounts!

Shangguan Yu was not pleased. His first instinct was to give Zuo Zhou a lecture, and he’d already typed the first two words of his message when he stopped.

He realized—perhaps Zuo Zhou had no choice.

That kid came from a struggling family. Getting into university was a hard-won achievement, and now, in his first year, he’d lost his financial support. When he worked as a nanny, he could at least earn some money for living expenses. But now? Shangguan Yu had been the one to dismiss that employer, leaving Zuo Zhou barely scraping by…

A wave of guilt washed over him.

“Brother Yu, really, it’s fine. The campus clinic’s CT machine—it’s decades old—scanned me, and it’s just a small fracture. The nurse took care of it since the doctor wasn’t there. They put a cast on and said I’m young, so I’ll heal in a little over a month.”

Shangguan Yu’s eyes lingered on a few key phrases: “decades old,” “nurse,” “doctor wasn’t there.”

His brow furrowed.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. If you’re free, go to Central Hospital’s orthopedic department.”

Central Hospital had one of the best orthopedic departments in Luocheng. It was also close to Shangguan Yu’s home—just two subway stops away. He’d received treatment there himself after his accident.

He wanted Zuo Zhou to get a proper checkup. It was better to be safe than sorry—Zuo Zhou was young and shouldn’t have to deal with long-term complications.

Shangguan Yu considered telling him not to worry about the cost, but typing it out felt too blunt. Instead, he added, “I’ll go with you.”

After sending the message, he sat quietly, watching the “Typing…” status appear and disappear.

He waited.

And waited.

But Zuo Zhou never sent a complete sentence.

Just as Shangguan Yu was about to lose patience and send another message to confirm the time, his phone rang.

It was Zuo Zhou calling.

The ringtone wasn’t loud, but it stirred something indescribable within Shangguan Yu—a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

He took a deep breath, composed himself, and answered.

“Hello,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Brother Yu…”

Zuo Zhou’s voice was low and breathy, unexpectedly soft and vulnerable.

Shangguan Yu’s chest tightened. When he spoke again, his voice was unconsciously gentle.

“Mm. What time are you free tomorrow?”

“Brother Yu, it’s really nothing serious. Just a minor fracture; it’ll heal in a few weeks. I wasn’t even going to tell you—didn’t want you to worry. But today, for some reason, it started hurting a lot, and I just… I couldn’t help it. I wanted…”

He paused, hesitant, almost embarrassed.

“I wanted you to comfort me.”

Shangguan Yu was silent for a moment. Then he said—

“Alright. If it hurts too much, take some painkillers for now. Let’s meet tomorrow at 9 a.m. in front of Central Hospital. You can register online with your ID. If you’re not sure how, I’ll help you.”

After a moment’s thought, Shangguan Yu, worried Zuo Zhou might hesitate because of the cost, added, “I’ll go with you. Don’t worry about money.”

“O-okay,” Zuo Zhou replied, his voice still soft but noticeably more cheerful. “Thanks, Brother Yu! Should I come to your place first tomorrow? I can pick you up, and we can go together. I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone.”

Shangguan Yu considered it. Even with an injured arm, Zuo Zhou could still be of some help. He agreed.

“Alright. I’ll wait for you at home at 8 a.m. We should go early—hospitals are packed on weekends.”

“Got it!”

The next morning, Shangguan Yu got up early, got ready, and waited for Zuo Zhou at home.

At 7:50, he heard the door code being entered. Knowing it was Zuo Zhou, he maneuvered his wheelchair to the entrance.

Zuo Zhou slipped in quietly, probably thinking Shangguan Yu was still asleep. But when he saw Shangguan Yu already waiting by the door, his face lit up with a bright smile.

“Brother Yu!”

“Mm.”

Shangguan Yu nodded, noticing Zuo Zhou’s right arm in a cast, supported by a sling.

In his left hand, Zuo Zhou held two fresh, green bamboo stalks. In the other, he carried two eco-friendly food containers.

“I brought breakfast. Eat before we go?”

“…Alright.”

“Oh, and these bamboo stalks—I saw them on the way and thought they looked nice. I’ll find a vase to put them in.”

After speaking, Zuo Zhou naturally slipped off his shoes at the entrance and, smiling brightly, went inside to find a vase for the bamboo.

Shangguan Yu watched his carefree figure and couldn’t help but ask, “Your arm…?”

“It doesn’t hurt much right now. I took some medicine last night; it must still be working.” Zuo Zhou found an empty vase near the TV stand and arranged the bamboo in it, looking pleased.

Alright then, Shangguan Yu thought. He seemed comfortable enough; there was no immediate cause for alarm. He went to the dining table and had a quick breakfast with Zuo Zhou.

Before they left, Shangguan Yu suddenly asked, “Xiao Zuo, can you drive?”

“Huh? No, I never got my license.”

“Alright, we’ll take a taxi.”

“Okay.”

Zuo Zhou booked a ride on his phone, and by the time they reached the gate, the car was already waiting.

He helped Shangguan Yu into the car, carefully stowed the wheelchair in the trunk, and then got in himself.

As they settled into the back seat, Zuo Zhou leaned slightly toward Shangguan Yu and asked, “Brother Yu, why did you ask if I could drive?”

“I used to have a car, but after the accident, I never drove it again. Haven’t had time to deal with it. Just thought of it today…” Shangguan Yu replied, then added, “Forget it. I’ll ask Wang Hao to sell it when he has time.”

Zuo Zhou didn’t respond. He simply lowered his gaze, lost in thought.

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