Axolotl Translations

“Liang Zhao! A dog—there’s a dog! There’s a dog in the water!” Gu Mengran leaned over the railing, scanning the river. Though he couldn’t see anything, he quickly pinpointed the source of the sound. Fumbling for his radio, he relayed the news to Liang Zhao.

The way he blurted it out made it sound a little… strange. A brief silence crackled over the radio before Liang Zhao’s calm voice came through. “Do you want to save it? Thinking about keeping it?”

Of course, he wanted to—Gu Mengran had always liked animals. But dogs didn’t just appear in the middle of a river. The thought sent a chill down his spine. “Check the radar first,” he said quickly. “There might be a ship in trouble nearby.”

“Got it.” A pause.

Nearly two minutes passed before Liang Zhao’s voice returned, deep and steady. “No vessels in sight. Either the ship already left, or the dog drifted here from upstream. Have you decided? Are we saving it?”

As if on cue, a pitiful whimper echoed across the water. The dog wasn’t far from the Windwing—retrieving it wouldn’t be difficult. Gu Mengran hesitated. Once. Twice. Then, clenching his jaw—

“Yeah, let’s do it. We’ll take it in. Might even help guard the ship.”

Liang Zhao chuckled softly. “Alright. Swap with me in the cockpit, I’ll go down—”

“What for? I can just go get it myself,” Gu Mengran interrupted. “I’ll take one of the diesel dinghies. Just lower me down with the crane.”

As soon as Gu Mengran finished speaking, he headed toward the crane, summoning a diesel dinghy from his storage. On the other end of the radio, Liang Zhao was still trying to dissuade him. “You’ve been up all night. You’re exhausted. Getting in the water like this isn’t safe.”

Gu Mengran scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And you think you’d be any safer? I’m the one who wants to save it—I can’t just let you take the risk for me.”

Liang Zhao opened his mouth to protest, but Gu Mengran cut him off, muttering under his breath, “Alright, alright, enough already. Who knows how long that poor thing’s been in the water? If we keep debating, it might drown before we even get to it.”

Liang Zhao sighed, conceding. “Fine.”

With the diesel dinghy securely fastened to the crane, Gu Mengran climbed in. “Alright, let’s go.”

The crane whirred to life. Slowly, the arm lifted the boat into the air. As the dinghy rose past the Windwing’s railing, Gu Mengran radioed in, keeping Liang Zhao updated. Then, the crane’s frame rotated, shifting the boat from the deck toward the river.

The boat wobbled slightly, suspended high above the dark water. But Gu Mengran remained perfectly steady. One hand gripped a high-powered flashlight, sweeping the river for any sign of movement. The other held the radio, relaying directions to Liang Zhao in real time.

The rescue proceeded surprisingly smoothly. In about three minutes, he located the target.

Then—

“Bang—”

As the small boat hit the water, it splashed in every direction. The dog, already struggling, panicked at the sudden movement. Its four legs flailed desperately, trying to paddle away—but it was completely exhausted. By the time Gu Mengran steered the boat closer, the poor creature had barely managed to swim half a meter. It bobbed weakly in the water, its strength nearly spent.

At first, Gu Mengran glimpsed yellow fur and assumed it was a golden retriever. But as he drew nearer, he noticed the white muzzle, the curled tail, and the unmistakable build—this wasn’t a retriever. It was a genuine, full-blooded rural mutt. A mystery dog, plucked straight from the river. Not that Gu Mengran cared about breed—but anyone who had ever raised a Chinese rural dog knew one thing: they were fiercely loyal to their owners and downright vicious to strangers.

And right now, getting bitten was not an option. Good luck finding rabies shots in an apocalypse. So, he abandoned the idea of grabbing it bare-handed and instead retrieved a fishing net from his storage. Holding his breath, he approached slowly, carefully gauging the dog’s reaction. To his surprise, it didn’t resist. Perhaps it was simply too exhausted.

Seizing his opportunity, Gu Mengran acted swiftly—scooping the dog into the net in one smooth motion. “Splash, splash—” Dripping wet, the dog landed safely in the boat, bringing half the river with it. Water flew everywhere, soaking Gu Mengran from head to toe. His shoes, his pants—completely drenched. But he had no time to worry about that.

He immediately turned the boat around, heading back toward the crane. As the dinghy reattached to the lift, Gu Mengran glanced down at the shivering, wet ball of fur.

At first, Gu Mengran hadn’t given it much thought. But the moment his eyes fell on the shivering little dog, those weak, pitiful, helpless eyes completely melted his resolve. His initial plan had been simple—just keep it in the net and carry it back. But the longer he looked, the more his heart softened. The poor creature was trembling so violently. It probably didn’t even have the strength to bite anymore.

After a long moment of hesitation, Gu Mengran slowly reached out. “Xiao Huang, don’t turn me into Lü Dongbin, alright?”

The dog didn’t disappoint. As soon as Gu Mengran released it from the net, it let out a few weak whimpers—sounding like a kettle about to boil—before curling up obediently in the boat’s cabin.

“Good dog.” Feeling emboldened, Gu Mengran took the opportunity to pat its head. The second his fingers made contact, he froze. …Why did this feel so strange? Instead of soft, damp fur, the dog’s head was sticky. Slimy. Slick. It didn’t feel like petting a wet animal. It felt like touching a cold, squirming snake.

A wave of disgust shot up Gu Mengran’s spine. He immediately leaned in, bringing his flashlight closer. That’s when he saw it—not just its head, but its entire body was coated in a thick layer of mud. Not just a little. A lot.

And that wasn’t the worst part. Glancing down, Gu Mengran suddenly realized his own pants and shoes were coated in the same thick, sludgy layer. And the “water” sloshing around the bottom of the boat? Dark, murky, thick. Like a blended caramel milk tea—except something about it was very, very wrong.

His stomach dropped. A terrible premonition crawled up his spine. Yes, the earthquake had made the river murky—but this? This wasn’t murky water. This was a river of mud.

Back on the Windwing, Gu Mengran wrapped Xiao Huang in a warm blanket and settled him in the cockpit to rest. Then, without wasting a second, he rushed off to consult his grandfather, explaining the situation on the river to both the old man and Liang Zhao.

Some things required experience to judge. Gu Mengran had a bad feeling—he sensed danger, but he didn’t yet fully grasp its extent. His grandfather, however, immediately understood.

With a sharp bang, the old man slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “We need to get to shore. Right now.”

“Huh?” Gu Mengran was taken aback. “Isn’t that a bit sudden? If it’s just a landslide upstream, shouldn’t we focus on taking precautions instead?” The river’s murkiness was most likely caused by the earthquake—or, at worst, a landslide mixing soil into the water. Since it hadn’t even rained, Gu Mengran assumed it wasn’t a major threat.

His grandfather, however, wasn’t convinced. His sharp gaze locked onto Gu Mengran. “Just a landslide? Can you guarantee that’s all it is?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment, then added, “Kid, when you were down there, did you notice the current?”

Gu Mengran nodded. “It was completely still. Smooth like a lake. Barely a ripple. Even Xiao Huang couldn’t swim, yet he wasn’t swept away.” That was precisely why Gu Mengran hadn’t been overly concerned.

But his grandfather’s face only darkened further. He turned to the pitch-black river outside, his weathered features tightening with a deep, foreboding seriousness. His voice was hoarse but firm. “We’re not far from Linhuai Gorge. Steep cliffs on both sides. I’m not afraid of a landslide. I’m afraid of a mountain collapse.”

“That can’t be right. If the mountain collapsed, wouldn’t there be waves?” A chill crawled up Gu Mengran’s spine. He was still trying to rationalize it, but deep down, he was already formulating a plan to get to shore.

His grandfather didn’t answer. Instead, Liang Zhao—who had been silent until now—finally spoke. His voice was calm but chilling. “Barrier lake.”

Gu Mengran froze. Then, he shot up from his seat. “Go. Go, go. Right now. Immediately.”

The spatial ability afforded them the luxury of an instant escape. But getting the Windwing to shore? That was a time-consuming nightmare. It was clear—they needed the diesel boat for this. But the crane required manual operation, meaning one of them had to stay behind until the others were safely off the ship.

It turned into a heated debate. None of them were willing to let the others take the risk. After several rounds of argument, they finally agreed on a plan. Gu Mengran and Meng Gaoyang would go first. Liang Zhao would stay behind to operate the crane and follow after.

Within minutes, Gu Mengran and Meng Gaoyang were already in the diesel boat, lowering themselves onto the river. Liang Zhao, meanwhile, secured the crane, shut down all non-essential systems on the ship, then headed to the deck. The escape ladder was already in place, set up by Gu Mengran beforehand. Liang Zhao climbed down and boarded the diesel boat.

They were about to leave—but Gu Mengran couldn’t just leave home behind. As soon as Liang Zhao was safely on board, Gu Mengran raised his hand and pressed his palm against the Windwing’s hull. A single thought. Not even a second passed. The massive ship—a towering steel colossus—vanished into thin air.

The river was vast and still. Not a single ripple. But the quieter it was—the stronger Gu Mengran’s unease grew.

Xiao Huang lay curled up in Gu Mengran’s arms, completely still. He gently stroked the pup’s head, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. If not for Xiao Huang… If he hadn’t gone back to save it—he never would have noticed the danger. Everything had gone smoothly. Three people and a dog, safely ashore. Standing on solid ground again felt surreal.

Gu Mengran took a deep breath, then retracted the diesel boat into his space. Just as he turned to leave the riverside with his grandfather and Liang Zhao—a deafening explosion split the air.

“—BOOM! BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!”

It wasn’t just sound—it was force. A pressure so immense, it felt like the entire earth was tearing apart. The sky seemed to shatter, and from all directions, the noise came crashing down like a tidal wave.

At the same time—the ground lurched. A sudden, violent tremor—as if the earthquake had returned with a vengeance. The world around them swayed and crumbled.

Gu Mengran’s mind went blank. His eardrums throbbed from the shockwave, his legs nearly buckled beneath him. Before he could even process what was happening—a hand grabbed his wrist. Tightly. “Run! RUN! Something’s coming from upstream!”

Liang Zhao’s grip was like iron. With his other hand, he had already grabbed the old man, dragging both of them forward with sheer brute force. It took Gu Mengran a second to snap out of his daze. He shoved Xiao Huang into his space, then sprinted with all his might.

As he ran, he glanced at Liang Zhao and his grandfather—and for a split second, he hesitated. Should he send them into his space too? But what if—what if he didn’t make it? Then he’d be taking away their only chance to escape. No. He couldn’t risk it. All he could do—was run.

Hiding in the space wasn’t an option. Not for all three of them. Because where you go in—is where you come out. If the riverbanks were completely flooded, they’d reappear in the middle of a raging torrent.

The low visibility compounded the problem. Gu Mengran couldn’t see upstream. But he could hear it. The relentless, thunderous roar. A sound that sent a chill deep into his bones.

The barrier lake had burst. The pent-up waters exploded free, surging forward in colossal waves, bearing down on them with unstoppable force. No other choice—run!

Gu Mengran gritted his teeth and pushed forward. He ran with everything he had—matching Liang Zhao’s speed stride for stride. But behind them, Meng Gaoyang was struggling. His age was a disadvantage. His breath grew ragged, his footsteps faltered. And then—he stumbled.

The roar of the water grew deafening. At this rate—he wouldn’t make it. Gu Mengran reached out, ready to pull his grandfather into his space. But before he could—Liang Zhao beat him to it. In one swift motion, he swooped down, grabbed the old man by the waist, and hoisted him onto his shoulder. Then—kept running.

Gu Mengran’s eyes widened. Wait—That works?! Before he could process it—

“——BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

The surge was almost upon them. Less than a hundred meters away.

Gu Mengran’s spine went cold. A terrifying force pulled at him from behind, as if trying to drag him into the flood. He staggered, losing his balance. Just as he was about to fall, Liang Zhao caught his wrist and pulled him forward.

Run. Run. Run. Not even a second to stop. Their ragged, desperate breaths were drowned out by the deafening roar of the flood. Focused only on what pursued them, they failed to see what lay ahead.

Gu Mengran’s foot suddenly slammed into something. Pain exploded through his toes. His body lurched forward—but—he didn’t fall. Instead of hitting the ground face-first, he only stumbled slightly. His outstretched hands slammed against something hard and solid. A rock? No. Too big. Too tall.

His fingertips brushed against rough, textured grooves. And in that instant—it hit him. “Liang Zhao! Liang Zhao! It’s a flood barrier! We’re saved!”

“Then quit talking—get up there and help!”

“On it!”

Without hesitation, Gu Mengran clawed his way upward. Hand over hand. Foot over foot. A surge of adrenaline. No time to think. He reached the top—his palms burned raw. His lungs screamed for air. But he didn’t stop. He spun around—flattened himself against the edge—and stretched his hands downward. “Come on!”

The flood barrier slanted at a daunting 45-degree angle, stretching five or six meters high. With the weight of a grown man on his back, it was an impossible climb.

Without hesitation, Liang Zhao lowered Grandpa Meng. Before the old man could react, Liang Zhao grabbed his legs, heaved him up, and threw him toward Gu Mengran. A desperate gamble. A final push.

Gu Mengran caught him. Pulled. Lifted. Shoved. Grandpa Meng scrambled to the top, gasping for breath.

Gu Mengran whirled around—reached for Liang Zhao—but the flood arrived. A thunderous wave. A wall of water, vast and merciless. Like a mountain, crashing down in an instant—sweeping across the riverbanks—swallowing everything.

The fog tore apart, revealing the impending catastrophe. Liang Zhao had nowhere to run.

Ten meters.

Eight.

Three.

Gu Mengran clenched his jaw until it ached. Half his body slid down the flood barrier. He stretched—reached—fingertips brushed fingertips—and then—Liang Zhao was gone. Swallowed whole.

“Liang Zhao!”

“LIANG ZHAO!”

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