Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao felt compelled to inquire with the system about Chen Feng’s fate.

If Ruan Zhao was a minor character designed to advance the plot, then Chen Feng was even less significant—barely worth mentioning.

Despite being deceived and manipulated by Ruan Zhao—believing the protagonist was a despicable individual and acting accordingly—his actions weren’t truly his own volition.

But anyone who opposed the protagonist rarely met a pleasant end.

Once Chen Feng finally recognized Ruan Zhao’s true nature—realizing he was nothing more than a duplicitous schemer feigning innocence and vulnerability—he became acutely aware of all the errors he’d committed.

Unable to reconcile with the truth, he chose to withdraw from school during the most critical year of high school.

In this world, he was merely an insignificant background character. His conclusion was summarized in a few brief sentences.

…

[If that’s the case, then I don’t require him for my mission. I’m capable of handling it independently.]

Ruan Zhao’s role was straightforward—to be a universally despised villain, committing foolish and cruel acts that no one could comprehend.

He was inherently antagonistic towards the protagonist, his animosity towards him deeply ingrained, constantly opposing him at every turn.

His entire character could be encapsulated in a single word: villain. He existed solely to propel the narrative forward, devoid of any deeper significance.

But he, Ruan Zhao, would be granted another opportunity upon departing this world.

Chen Feng would not.

Therefore, there was no need to drag someone else’s life down just for the sake of completing a mission.

After careful consideration, Ruan Zhao made a decision—

From this point forward, when tormenting Gu Xingyan, he would refrain from involving Chen Feng.

The piercing chime of the school bell sliced through the quiet hallway. Instantly, the corridor teemed with clamorous activity as students surged from their classrooms like sardines bursting from a can.

The once-spacious hallway felt constricted and stifling.

Class was over.

The final period had been physical education, but due to a teacher’s emergency absence, the students were granted free time—providing the perfect opportunity to deal with Gu Xingyan.

However, now that the break had commenced, the corridors were teeming with individuals. Any further action would attract unwanted attention.

A teacher strolled past, and Chen Feng—unconcerned—casually slipped his phone into the pocket of his loose-fitting school uniform. Then, turning his head, he addressed Ruan Zhao as if nothing had happened.

“Let’s go back.”

“…Alright.”

There was no reason to linger any longer.

A figure darted from the classroom, sprinting directly toward the restroom.

The loosely closed door was kicked open with a resounding bang. The individual clearly hadn’t anticipated anyone being inside and recoiled in surprise, cursing under his breath.

Hearing the commotion, Ruan Zhao couldn’t resist glancing back.

And in that instant, he met Gu Xingyan’s gaze.

His complexion was still pallid, his disheveled bangs damp with traces of cold sweat. The grime on his sleeve had been washed away, leaving a large, damp patch in its place.

He seemed to be doing slightly better than before—at least he no longer looked on the verge of collapsing at any moment.

However, upon seeing Ruan Zhao, his reaction was indifferent, as if he were merely a passerby. His gaze barely lingered before he lowered his head, resuming the task of cleaning his soiled uniform.

The last of the stains were finally eradicated.

He twisted the fabric tightly, wringing out the remaining moisture, then turned to leave.

As he moved forward, something hard crunched beneath his shoe.

It was the bread and candy Ruan Zhao had tossed at him earlier—his so-called “offering.”

The crumpled packaging was now saturated with murky water of indeterminate origin.

Gu Xingyan stepped back, his expression inscrutable. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he bent down, retrieved the soiled food, and threw it into the trash.

Perhaps at the thought of his freshly cleansed hands coming into contact with something unclean again, he turned back, activated the faucet, and washed them once more.

He scrubbed until his skin paled slightly from the cold water, only ceasing when he was finally satisfied.

…

Students kept entering and leaving the restroom, but Gu Xingyan didn’t reappear.

Ruan Zhao found himself glancing back repeatedly, so frequently that Chen Feng eventually noticed.

Misinterpreting the reason, Chen Feng assumed he was concerned about being discovered for their actions towards Gu Xingyan. He patted Ruan Zhao’s shoulder and reassured him confidently, “Relax. No one will find out.”

Ruan Zhao was momentarily taken aback before realizing Chen Feng’s assumption. He chose not to correct him—allowing him to remain under his misapprehension.

Chen Feng smirked. “We didn’t do anything. We simply pulled him into the restroom for a brief discussion, that’s all. There isn’t a single mark on him.”

As he spoke, he appeared to suddenly recall that he had, in fact, kicked Gu Xingyan. “Even if he reports it to the teachers, he’s the one at fault,” Chen Feng stated coldly. “After everything he’s done, the school should have expelled him long ago.”

Ruan Zhao’s brow twitched subtly.

Because it suddenly occurred to him—

All those reprehensible things Chen Feng was referring to…

Every single one of them had been fabricated.

Invented by him.

Not a single accusation was genuine.

Gu Xingyan had never harassed him, never bothered him—prior to today, he hadn’t even known of Ruan Zhao’s existence in their class.

A fabrication of this magnitude should have been easily debunked.

Yet, the original Ruan Zhao had always been adept at deception. And Chen Feng, who considered him a friend, trusted him implicitly.

Nevertheless, Ruan Zhao wasn’t the protagonist of this narrative.

Inevitably, the truth would surface.

And when it did, he wouldn’t simply face Gu Xingyan’s retribution—he’d be despised, condemned, and ostracized by everyone.

Everything he’d inflicted upon Gu Xingyan would serve as proof of his true character: a duplicitous villain. Every act of kindness he’d shown his classmates would be reinterpreted as manipulation. Every polite smile would be recast as calculated deceit.

Even Chen Feng would turn against him.

Ruan Zhao glanced at Chen Feng’s muscular arms, then lowered his gaze to his own slender wrists.

Logically… Chen Feng could likely subdue him with a single hand.

The system interjected helpfully: [Don’t worry, Host. When the time comes, I’ll activate pain suppression for you.]

Ruan Zhao: […Thanks.] But if possible, I’d prefer to avoid being beaten altogether.

“Chen Feng…”

The taller boy turned to face him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Ruan Zhao sincerely expressed his gratitude. “Thank you for today. Truly.”

Chen Feng gave him a look that practically screamed, Are you serious? Again?

“Do you have to be so formal with me?” He flexed his wrist and raised an eyebrow. “It was nothing. How many times are you planning to thank me? Besides, I didn’t even do much. At most, I simply stood beside you…” He paused, then added, “…and served as a deterrent.”

Ruan Zhao couldn’t help but smile, though the expression vanished almost immediately. “I just spoke with Gu Xingyan,” he said. “He understands his mistake now and promised he won’t ever… do something like that again. So, let’s just leave it at that.”

Chen Feng looked at him as if he’d lost his senses. “You’re serious?”

Ruan Zhao nodded.

Chen Feng clearly couldn’t comprehend Ruan Zhao’s magnanimous demeanor. He didn’t understand why he was being so forgiving. But ultimately, this wasn’t his concern. It wasn’t his decision to make.

Faced with Ruan Zhao’s unwavering gaze, Chen Feng could only sigh, force a perfunctory grin, and raise both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Whatever you say. I won’t bother Gu Xingyan again. Happy now?”

…

The desk was strewn with scattered books and exam papers. Ruan Zhao quickly organized them.

Half the class had their heads down, seizing the brief break to catch up on sleep. Not wanting to disturb them, he moved quietly, carefully placing everything into the storage compartment beneath his desk.

As he slid his books into the desk compartment, he encountered unexpected resistance—it felt completely full.

Ruan Zhao glanced down and realized the entire space was crammed with snacks.

Potato chips, yogurt, chocolate, candy—it was a veritable cornucopia.

System: [The original host was quite popular. These were all gifts from others.]

With no room remaining for his books, he had no choice but to return them to his backpack.

Ruan Zhao was uncertain how to proceed. The system offered no further guidance, seemingly leaving the decision entirely to him. After a moment’s contemplation, he removed all the snacks and placed them on an unoccupied desk at the back of the classroom.

The desk was over a meter long, yet the mound of snacks nearly resembled a small mountain. Several stray bags even spilled onto the floor.

System: [These were all left here by the original host this morning.]

Ruan Zhao: […This is excessive.] He was once again reminded of just how well-regarded the original host had been.

After some effort, he located a small, vacant corner and carefully arranged the remaining snacks there. During this process, he could feel several pairs of eyes on him. Someone even emitted a quiet sigh, as if disappointed that he wasn’t accepting the gifts.

It required two trips to completely empty the desk compartment. Just to be certain, Ruan Zhao bent down for one final inspection—only to discover a small, delicate bag hanging on the right side of the desk.

It was a woven drawstring pouch, brimming with an assortment of candies.

Something about it felt familiar.

In his original world, he used to do the same—filling a similar little bag with all manner of sweets. Whenever a class became particularly draining, he’d reach in and select one at random, allowing the sweetness to offer a momentary distraction.

The uncertainty of which flavor he’d draw always added a small spark of anticipation. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be his favorite. During the arduous days of his final year of secondary school, it was one of the few small joys he possessed.

And now, he was reliving it all.

A suffocating feeling crept over him.

—

Ruan Zhao’s accident occurred on the very day he completed his college entrance examination.

A vehicle, completely out of control, came hurtling towards him. He didn’t even have time to react. One moment, he was standing there; the next, he was airborne—sent flying like a kite with a severed string.

The driver was likely intoxicated. Even after striking him, he didn’t stop. The car swerved erratically before vanishing down the road.

Strangely, Ruan Zhao didn’t experience much pain. Just an overwhelming chill. His extremities grew numb, devoid of all strength—likely due to excessive blood loss.

Even as his consciousness flickered, his instincts propelled him forward. Feebly, he began crawling towards the sidewalk.

Vehicles sped past him, their exhaust fumes choking the air. One tire rolled over his pooling blood, leaving a winding, crimson trail.

He had crawled forward—five, perhaps six meters… or possibly even further. Whether he ultimately reached the crosswalk, he couldn’t quite recall.

When consciousness returned, he found himself in an entirely unfamiliar space.

Blinding white filled his vision, while streams of data—composed solely of 0s and 1s—swirled around him, expanding, converging, flowing like a vast, majestic galaxy.

Surrounding him were over a dozen luminous, multicolored orbs.

Some were large, some were small, all of them plump and round. Tiny wings protruded from their sides, giving them the appearance of chubby little birds fattened for winter.

The orbs circled him, darting up and down, scrutinizing him from every angle—almost as if they were appraising a commodity and assessing its value.

The largest orb cleared its throat and spoke.

“Young man, I see great potential in you. A natural talent, destined to tread the path of an overpowered protagonist.” It lifted its chin arrogantly, a hint of condescension in its gaze. “Sign a contract with me, and I will help you ascend to the pinnacle of life.”

Before he could respond, a pink orb adorned with a tiny bow nudged the larger one aside and bluntly dismissed its offer.

“What nonsense are you spouting, 0168? Does that face look like protagonist material to you? You’ll say anything to meet your quota, won’t you?”

The pink orb wriggled in front of Ruan Zhao, its digital display flashing a cheerful, crescent-eyed smile. When it addressed him, its voice became saccharine and cloying.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, look at me! I’m the Irresistible Charmer System—we’re a match made in heaven!” Its digital eyes morphed into heart shapes. “You’re so beautiful, so breathtaking! You won’t even have to lift a finger; people will adore you. We can simply sit back, accumulate affection, and amass points effortlessly. Together, we’d be unstoppable!”

Before Ruan Zhao could respond, the White Moonlight System body-slammed the pink orb, sending it tumbling away. It swiftly claimed the closest position to him, flapping its tiny wings vigorously to capture his attention.

“Human, human, look at me! My missions are effortless and stress-free—entirely different from the others!”

Seeing the strikingly handsome boy finally glance in its direction, the White Moonlight System puffed out its chest in excitement. “With me, we begin with maximum favorability! No need to endure trials like 0168 or struggle like 0433, desperately grinding for affection and constantly risking a messy love triangle. Our success rate is an astounding 95%! We’ve held the top ranking for five consecutive years!”

Its digital display flashed with twinkling, starry eyes. “So, bind with me, human—you won’t regret it… Ouch! Who shoved me?!”

……

Ruan Zhao’s ears were assaulted by a relentless barrage of enthusiastic sales pitches.

The small orbs resembled plump, fluffy chicks, and they chattered just as incessantly—chirping and squawking nonstop.

Before long, they even began bickering, flailing their wings at one another, sending dust and down flying everywhere.

A small, grayish orb tumbled from the chaotic mass, rolling directly toward Ruan Zhao. Instinctively, he reached out and caught it.

The orb settled in his palm, then slowly rotated to face him, regarding him with surprising earnestness.

“H-Human… would you like to bind with me?”

Unlike its boisterous companions, this one seemed significantly calmer. Were it not for the slight stammer in its voice, he might have believed it was as composed as it purported to be.

Ruan Zhao lowered his gaze, examining it.

Compared to the others, this small orb was noticeably frail. Even its wings appeared underdeveloped—mere tiny, stubby nubs.

But perched atop its head were two small, pointed cat ears.

And if he observed closely enough, they would twitch ever so slightly.

…Adorable.

—

[Inside his mind…]

[Host…] 0606’s voice was gentle and hesitant. [Can you tell me again… why you chose me from among all the systems?]

Ruan Zhao drew himself back from his thoughts.

[Because you’re unique.] You have cat ears.

[And because you’re cute.] Even your wings are tiny.

0606 was ecstatic. Within Ruan Zhao’s consciousness, it launched a burst of virtual fireworks in celebration.

As the simulated fireworks crackled and blossomed, Ruan Zhao suddenly heard the faint creak of a door opening.

He looked up—and saw Gu Xingyan standing there.

---

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