Axolotl Translations

The central hospital was a short drive away, and they arrived in just over ten minutes. The driver, a kindly man, noticed the passengers’ difficulties—one with a leg, the other an arm—and unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to assist. But Zuo Zhou waved him off.

“No need, sir,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

The driver hesitated. “Young man, don’t be shy. A little help wouldn’t hurt.”

“Truly, I’m fine,” Zuo Zhou assured him with a smile. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Shangguan Yu remained silent.

Still unconvinced, the driver popped the trunk, then settled back in his seat, watching with Shangguan Yu.

In the rearview mirror, Shangguan Yu saw Zuo Zhou reach into the trunk with his left hand. With surprising ease and practiced movements, he pulled out the wheelchair, made a quick adjustment, and unfolded it smoothly. Then, he rolled it toward the back door.

“Wow,” the driver murmured, impressed. “Youth is truly something. Tall, handsome, and strong! Your little brother is quite something!”

Shangguan Yu, mistaken for the elder brother, simply nodded.

He hadn’t given it much thought before, but now, as the driver’s words sank in, Shangguan Yu noticed something himself. When Zuo Zhou had helped him from the car, his left arm, the one with full mobility, had indeed displayed surprising strength.

Zuo Zhou, using only one arm, managed to bear most of his weight as he carefully settled into the wheelchair. Even through the lightweight down jacket he wore in the early winter chill, Shangguan Yu could discern the defined muscles flexing beneath the fabric with the exertion.

“Brother Yu,” Zuo Zhou said, his left hand naturally finding the wheelchair handles as he began to propel Shangguan Yu forward. “I’ve registered. Do we simply queue now?”

Shangguan Yu glanced back, a question in his eyes. “You don’t need to push me. I can manage.”

Zuo Zhou grinned, his gaze meeting Shangguan Yu’s, and offered a playful wink. “I know. But it’s crowded. I want to.”

…Very well then.

Seeing Zuo Zhou handle the wheelchair with such ease using only one hand, Shangguan Yu didn’t protest. He straightened in his seat and began to give directions.

Though it had been over six months since his last visit, his memories of the hospital remained sharp. Without hesitation, he guided Zuo Zhou through the maze of corridors to the orthopedic department on the sixth floor.

“Which doctor did you register with? What number are we?”

Zuo Zhou consulted his phone. A few taps later, he replied, “Deputy Chief Physician Zhong. Number twelve.”

Shangguan Yu nodded, gesturing towards the digital display outside Consultation Room 2. “Two patients ahead of us. We’re perfectly on time.”

“Alright, let’s sit here and wait for a bit.”

When Zuo Zhou’s number was called, Shangguan Yu intended to remain outside. It was a simple check-up and some tests—likely a quick process.

But as Zuo Zhou rose, he instinctively moved behind Shangguan Yu, smoothly propelling the wheelchair forward.

Shangguan Yu raised an eyebrow in question.

“Let’s go together,” Zuo Zhou replied with a smile. “I get anxious when you’re not in sight.”

…

Inside the consultation room, Zuo Zhou positioned Shangguan Yu in front of the doctor’s desk, ensuring he was comfortable before settling into the chair beside him.

Across the desk sat a young, sharp-featured male doctor. He was focused on his computer, typing as he inquired, “Where’s the pain?”

“Oh, I have a fractured arm. Just a routine check-up.”

“Understood.”

The doctor acknowledged without looking up, finishing his notes before finally turning his attention to them.

The moment he saw Shangguan Yu beside Zuo Zhou, his fingers paused on the keyboard. His expression shifted from surprise to delight in an instant, his eyes brightening.

“It’s you!”

Startled, Shangguan Yu blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He hesitated, unsure if he recognized the doctor.

“It’s me! Zhong Pei! I treated you when you were here before. I remember your name—it’s quite distinctive,” Zhong Pei said, his brow furrowing briefly before clearing. “Shangguan! Right?”

“Uh…yes, that’s me,” Shangguan Yu finally recognized the man before him. “Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” Zhong Pei beamed. “When I first came to this hospital six months ago, I assisted Director Wang with your treatment. You then went abroad, and I never expected to see you back here. What brings you back? A follow-up? How did your treatment go overseas?”

Meanwhile, Zuo Zhou—whose fractured right arm was being utterly ignored—stood silently by, a picture of quiet suffering.

“It’s not me; I’m here with a friend,” Shangguan Yu quickly steered the conversation away from himself. “He injured his arm playing basketball—a collision fracture.”

Only then did Zhong Pei’s attention shift to Zuo Zhou. “Ah, I see. Let’s have a look.”

As Zuo Zhou’s arm was encased in a cast, Zhong Pei couldn’t examine it directly, nor did he want to remove the cast prematurely. Instead, he asked a few questions before deciding, “We’ll need an X-ray first. Then we’ll take it from there.”

After writing the test order, Zhong Pei handed it to Zuo Zhou. “Please pay the fee, get the scan, and bring the images back to me.”

With that, he turned back to Shangguan Yu, eager to resume their conversation.

Zuo Zhou promptly clutched his arm dramatically and let out a pitiful whimper.

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong?”

Zhong Pei and Shangguan Yu, startled, instinctively turned toward Zuo Zhou.

“It hurts…” Zuo Zhou said, looking plaintively at Shangguan Yu. “I think I bumped it just now, but it’s alright. Brother Yu, is the payment counter on the first floor?”

“There’s one on this floor as well,” Zhong Pei interjected enthusiastically. “It’s on the east side, near the elevator.”

“Oh, and the X-ray room? That’s on the eighth floor, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s on the seventh—”

“Never mind,” Shangguan Yu interrupted Zhong Pei. “I’ll go with him. It’s his first time here—he doesn’t know his way around.”

“Huh?” Zhong Pei frowned. “The hospital is clearly signposted, and he’s young—he can always ask if he gets lost. But you…moving around isn’t easy for you, is it?”

Shangguan Yu’s lips tightened, and he remained silent.

Despite his silence, Zuo Zhou immediately sensed Shangguan Yu’s frustration, the sudden shift in his demeanor, the hint of helplessness. He didn’t want to be a burden.

So, Zuo Zhou casually stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Shangguan Yu as if by chance. Then, with a bright smile, he said to Zhong Pei, “Dr. Zhong, I have a terrible sense of direction—I really do need my brother to guide me. You have other patients waiting, so we won’t take up any more of your time.”

Without waiting for Zhong Pei’s response, Zuo Zhou simply took hold of Shangguan Yu’s wheelchair and strode out of the consultation room.

Before Shangguan Yu could fully register what was happening, he found himself in the hallway. He didn’t realize that Zuo Zhou had subtly shifted from his usual “Brother Yu” to “my brother” just moments before, a deliberate attempt to conceal his name from Zhong Pei.

“Brother Yu, left or right?”

“Right.”

“Understood.”

The payment counter had a considerable queue, so Zuo Zhou positioned Shangguan Yu at the end, inching forward gradually.

Shangguan Yu retrieved his phone, unlocked it, tapped a few times, and then offered it to Zuo Zhou. “Here. Use this for the payment.”

“Huh?” Zuo Zhou paused, then chuckled. “No need, Brother Yu. I have student health insurance—it’s incredibly affordable.”

“Take it,” Shangguan Yu insisted, extending his hand until Zuo Zhou accepted the phone.

Zuo Zhou glanced at the screen before finally relenting. He then smiled at Shangguan Yu. “Thank you, Brother Yu.”

While they waited for the scan, Zuo Zhou absently adjusted the medical sling around his chest. Then, in a casual tone, he inquired, “Brother Yu, you and Dr. Zhong…are you close?”

“He’s alright. When I was hospitalized at Central Hospital, Dr. Zhong had just started working there. He was my attending physician for a time.”

“Oh,” Zuo Zhou blinked, then commented, “He seems quite friendly.”

Unaware of the subtle undercurrent in Zuo Zhou’s voice, Shangguan Yu continued, “He took good care of me back then. Perhaps because I was his first patient at that hospital, or maybe because my case was significant enough to have some research value.”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted into the distance. His lips pressed together, lost in thought.

Beside him, Zuo Zhou’s expression clouded slightly. He stretched his neck, then, in the blink of an eye, adopted a pitiful, weakened demeanor. Tilting his head and slumping his shoulders, he leaned heavily against Shangguan Yu.

Zuo Zhou was tall, and the position wasn’t exactly comfortable, yet he settled into it naturally, as if perfectly at ease.

“?!”

Shangguan Yu, caught off guard, instantly stiffened, his posture becoming unnaturally rigid.

“What’s wrong?” He turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing against the short hairs at Zuo Zhou’s temple. A strange sensation, both prickly and ticklish, coursed through him.

“I feel weak…drained,” Zuo Zhou murmured feebly. “Why isn’t it our turn yet?”

Shangguan Yu glanced ahead and replied, “Almost our turn. Just three more people. Big hospitals are like this—you have to wait for everything, but it won’t be long.”

“Oh.”

Though Shangguan Yu wasn’t accustomed to someone leaning on him like this, he reminded himself that Zuo Zhou was injured and likely uncomfortable. It didn’t seem right to ask him to sit up, so he remained in his somewhat rigid posture, allowing Zuo Zhou to continue resting against him.

Amidst the bustling hospital—a symphony of hushed conversations, hurried footsteps, and beeping machines—they sat quietly together. Neither spoke for some time.

It was unclear how long had passed when Zuo Zhou softly spoke.

“Back then…did anyone stay with you?”

Shangguan Yu was momentarily taken aback, but then he understood precisely which “back then” Zuo Zhou was referring to.

After the accident, he had been alone in the hospital. No family visited, and Wang Hao only stopped by occasionally, leaving him mostly to himself. His limited mobility had necessitated hiring a caregiver.

Reflecting on it now, the person who had spent the most time at his bedside wasn’t a friend or relative—but a stranger he barely knew.

Shangguan Yu chuckled softly. There was something concealed within that smile—an emotion difficult to define, a touch of quiet melancholy. Yet, his voice remained neutral.

“Of course. A very patient gentleman.”

“A gentleman?”

“Mm. A highly recommended caregiver I hired.”

Zuo Zhou fell silent.

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