Axolotl Translations

Seeing the miserable look on the system’s face, Ruan Zhao softened his voice, as if comforting a child.

[I was just kidding. I wouldn’t actually do it.]

0606, still sniffling, hesitated. [Really?]

Ruan Zhao, unable to resist teasing it, deadpanned, [Nope. I was totally serious.]

The system immediately burst into tears, fat teardrops soaking its tiny wings. Its wings were already shorter than usual, meaning it had to flap extra hard just to stay airborne. Now, waterlogged, they were utterly useless—forget flying, it was practically grounded.

Ruan Zhao cruelly enjoyed watching it cry for a while, a smug smirk playing on his lips, before finally relenting and comforting it. Luckily, the system was ridiculously easy to appease—a few casual reassurances, and it was cheerfully flitting about again.

With that settled, Ruan Zhao turned his attention back to Gu Xingyan. He continued wiping the boy’s face, but the gash on his forehead refused to stop bleeding. No matter how much he cleaned, the red streaks reappeared.

Finally, Ruan Zhao gave up. He watched as thin rivulets of blood trickled down Gu Xingyan’s temple, pooling at the corner of his eye before dripping onto the seat, soaking into the fabric.

Looking down, he noticed his own fingers were stained crimson. Ruan Zhao wrinkled his nose in distaste, then scrubbed his fingertips against Gu Xingyan’s uniform to remove the blood. The guy’s school jacket was already a mess, soaked in red—who would notice a little more?

Perhaps he’d pressed a bit too hard—because the next second, Gu Xingyan’s eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes snapped open.

A hand shot out, weakly but firmly clasping Ruan Zhao’s wrist, halting his movement.

Ruan Zhao blinked, slightly surprised. “You’re awake?”

Gu Xingyan’s unfocused gaze drifted to Ruan Zhao’s face, but his eyes lacked clarity—he was barely conscious.

Curious, Ruan Zhao waved a hand in front of his face. “Gu Xingyan?”

At the sound of his name, Gu Xingyan’s brows twitched, and he let out a low, hoarse murmur.

Ruan Zhao wasted no time. “I found you collapsed on the side of the road. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Gu Xingyan’s expression darkened, his already weak voice slowing further. “Hospital…?” A pause. “I don’t want to go.”

Though his grip had weakened, Gu Xingyan’s fingers remained loosely wrapped around Ruan Zhao’s wrist.

Ruan Zhao, determined to maintain his fragile, reluctant hero persona, slowly pried Gu Xingyan’s fingers apart.

Running a high fever and suffering from blood loss, Gu Xingyan was running on fumes—even that brief resistance had exhausted him. All he could do was helplessly watch Ruan Zhao slip from his grasp.

His fingers curled weakly in the air before finally settling on Ruan Zhao’s sleeve.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze. His pupils were dark and piercing, locked on Ruan Zhao with unwavering focus. Then, word by word, he repeated, “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

For once, Ruan Zhao was speechless. Really? What are you, a little kid afraid of needles?

He tugged his arm sharply, trying to free his sleeve. The fabric slid easily, almost slipping completely from Gu Xingyan’s grasp. Only a small corner remained clutched between his fingers.

Maybe it was because of the blood running into his eyes, but Gu Xingyan’s gaze was bloodshot. Though clearly unwell, he refused to look away.

His forehead wound continued to bleed, and a single drop of warm blood landed on the back of Ruan Zhao’s hand. The sudden warmth made his fingers flinch.

Ruan Zhao didn’t pull away again, allowing Gu Xingyan to cling to the remaining fabric. Then, he kicked a nearby trash can, gesturing toward the blood-stained tissues inside. His tone held a hint of mocking amusement.

“You’re really that determined to avoid the hospital? What, planning to bleed to death?” Ruan Zhao scoffed. “Then again, I guess it makes sense. Trash like you isn’t much use alive anyway. Might as well drop dead and do the world a favor.”

Gu Xingyan had heard worse. Ruan Zhao’s mocking tone barely registered. An insult without profanity or real venom? Not even close to bothering him.

He glanced at the blood-soaked tissues in the trash, his brows twitching slightly. Even he hadn’t expected to be bleeding this much.

Now that he’d noticed, the pain finally hit him—a sharp, splitting ache tearing through his forehead. Must’ve cracked my head when I fell. No wonder he felt so weak and freezing. Had he really lost that much blood?

His breath quickened, heart pounding, his vision blurring. He recognized the feeling immediately. Shock.

For once, he didn’t insist on refusing the hospital.

Ruan Zhao noticed his sudden silence and clicked his tongue. Finally realized how serious it is? He’d never met anyone so reckless with their own life. Even without the head injury, a 40-degree fever was a serious problem. Untreated, it could cause lasting damage—or even pneumonia.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight against his shoulder. Gu Xingyan had collapsed on him.

He barely lasted a few minutes before losing consciousness again. Ruan Zhao pushed his head away, letting him slump against the car door.

Up close, Gu Xingyan’s ghostly pale complexion was alarming. The dark circles under his eyes were a deep, bruised purple.

Curious, Ruan Zhao reached out and poked them, murmuring, “Just how many all-nighters have you pulled? Your dark circles are on another level.”

The system picked up on the keyword and instantly unlocked some background data on the male lead.

System: [Gu Xingyan has been surviving on four hours of sleep a night for an entire month. This past week, he hasn’t even been getting that much.]

Ruan Zhao raised an eyebrow. “What, is he trying to achieve immortality?”

Recalling Gu Xingyan’s litany of health problems, Ruan Zhao thought that if he weren’t the protagonist, he’d probably have died long ago.

—

The driver sped to the hospital, arriving in record time—fifteen minutes flat.

Since it was late, the hospital wasn’t busy, and they quickly completed the admission process.

Gu Xingyan’s forehead wound was deep—he needed five stitches. The doctor warned that improper care could leave a scar. Because he’d hit his head when he collapsed, he was also diagnosed with a mild concussion and needed overnight observation.

His fever had spiked dangerously high, and a delay could have led to serious complications. After a fever-reducing shot, he was moved to a regular ward and hooked up to an IV.

And that was just the beginning—countless other minor health issues were listed. Ruan Zhao flipped through the thick stack of medical reports, at a loss for words.

“Are you a family member?” The doctor pushed up his glasses, his tone grim.

“…No.”

“A friend, then?”

Ruan Zhao had intended to say he was simply a concerned bystander, but glancing at Gu Xingyan—alone in the hospital room—he hesitated. Then, on impulse, he nodded.

The doctor sighed. “His condition isn’t good—erratic sleep, anemia, long-term malnutrition… If this continues, his body will break down sooner or later. He’s young now, but what about when he’s thirty? His body won’t be able to keep up. By then, even if he regrets it, it’ll be too late.”

Ruan Zhao wholeheartedly agreed, thinking the doctor was being kind. If Gu Xingyan continued pushing himself this hard, even an iron constitution would give out—he might not even reach thirty.

But ultimately, fate was on his side. His suffering was temporary. In a few months, a top aristocratic family in the capital would claim him. From then on, he’d wear designer clothes, eat Michelin-star meals, and live a life where hardship was a distant memory.

“You two must be really close.”

Ever since Gu Xingyan’s hospitalization, Ruan Zhao had handled everything—paying fees, collecting test results, coordinating with doctors and nurses. He hadn’t even paused to rest. Naturally, the doctor assumed they were close friends.

“Try to talk some sense into him,” the doctor continued. “He needs to stop staying up all night, eat proper meals, and get more vegetables and meat. Even if he’s a picky eater, he has to prioritize his nutritional needs—otherwise, his health will deteriorate quickly.”

Ruan Zhao nodded. “Got it. I’ll talk to him later.”

The doctor sighed, lamenting young people neglecting their health, and offered more words of caution. Only when another patient arrived did he finally leave.

Ruan Zhao—who disliked social interaction—quietly exhaled in relief.

Pushing open the hospital room door, he stepped inside. It was a private ward, clean and sterile, with a faint scent of disinfectant.

He placed the stack of reports on the bedside table and sat down, his gaze settling on Gu Xingyan. His color had returned somewhat, no longer ghostly white. The forehead wound was bandaged, but fresh blood had already seeped through, making it look unbearably painful.

Ruan Zhao’s expression softened slightly. Leaning down, he pulled the blanket up over Gu Xingyan. As he did, his gaze lingered on the boy’s face. His eyelashes were surprisingly long, curling slightly at the tips.

Gu Xingyan’s long lashes reminded Ruan Zhao of something: a doll.

When he was little, he’d found a doll in a pile of trash—its lashes were just as long, just as curled. It had been filthy—its face, its clothes, covered in grime from years in the garbage. Ruan Zhao had washed it repeatedly, scrubbing away the dirt until it was clean.

As a child, he’d owned no toys, nor had he any friends. That doll had become his world. He’d even cut up his own clothes to sew it a dress. It hadn’t turned out well; he’d ruined both the doll’s outfit and his own.

It was a distant memory, one he could barely connect with emotionally—neither happy nor sad. But thinking about it now left a dull ache in his chest.

Ruan Zhao reached out, lightly touching Gu Xingyan’s forehead. Still warm, but not burning.

No telling when he’d wake up. Restless, Ruan Zhao absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. Bored, he watched the IV drip, the liquid falling drop by drop into the tube, traveling into Gu Xingyan’s veins.

The room was so quiet he could hear his own breathing. Then, a sharp ring cut through the silence. He glanced down. The screen displayed a familiar contact: Mom.

For a moment, Ruan Zhao froze. Then, as if snapping out of it, he quickly answered. “Hello?”

“Zhaozhao, why aren’t you home yet?” His mother’s soft voice flowed through the phone, warm and gentle, though laced with a hint of worry.

“Didn’t the driver tell you? A…friend of mine was injured, so we’re at the hospital.” Ruan Zhao had sent the driver home earlier to explain, hoping to alleviate his family’s concerns.

“When will you be back?” she asked. “I made your favorite sweet and sour ribs. They won’t taste good cold.”

Not wanting to disturb Gu Xingyan, Ruan Zhao pressed the phone to his ear and quietly stepped out of the room. Hearing her question, he hesitated. “Probably quite a while. He’s still unconscious.”

“And what about his family? Their own child is hurt, and they aren’t even at the hospital? Leaving everything to you? That makes no sense!” Even in her frustration, her Jiangnan accent kept her tone soft.

Ruan Zhao shifted the phone, his voice slightly hoarse. “His parents…are gone. He’s alone.”

A pause. Then, quietly, “Mom.” The word felt foreign—almost unnatural—on his tongue. It had been too long. After a brief hesitation, the words flowed more easily. “His injuries are serious, and he has a concussion. Someone needs to stay with him. I’ll come home when he wakes up.”

“Alright, alright, I understand.” His mother sighed softly. “Your friend probably hasn’t eaten either. I’ll have the driver bring some food for both of you.”

“No need, Mom. The hospital has a cafeteria, or we can order takeout.”

“Absolutely not!” His mother objected immediately. “Takeout is so unsanitary. What if you get food poisoning?”

“But—”

“No buts, Zhaozhao. I’ve already packed the food. The driver’s on his way.”

Already? Ruan Zhao glanced out the window. Night had fallen, and countless stars shimmered in the dark sky.

The call ended. He stood in the hallway for a moment before glancing through the hospital room’s glass panel. Inside, Gu Xingyan had pushed himself up, his body still weak but steady. His dark eyes, calm and unfathomable, were fixed on him.

---

Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter