Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao, unsure what Gu Xingyan was waiting for, was about to urge him on when he noticed something alarming—the IV line in Gu Xingyan’s arm was reversing, blood flowing back up the tube. A vivid red stream surged upward through the delicate tubing, disturbingly striking.

Oh, hell no! This was the worst possible scenario!

Startled, Ruan Zhao lunged for the call button by the bed.

But Gu Xingyan stopped him. “No need to call the nurse. I can handle it.”

His slender fingers pressed against Ruan Zhao’s shoulder. Unlike before, when they’d felt like ice, his fingertips now radiated a faint warmth, seeping through Ruan Zhao’s shirt.

Ruan Zhao disliked unnecessary physical contact, especially with Gu Xingyan. If he mistook it for friendship, how could he justify bullying him later? He instinctively tried to shrug off the hand, wanting to establish that he wasn’t someone to be touched casually.

But then he realized—the hand holding him back was the same one with the reversing IV! That was low! Unbelievably sneaky! Ruan Zhao froze, suddenly too afraid to move.

Ruan Zhao held his breath, afraid the slightest movement would cause Gu Xingyan’s hand to erupt in a fountain of blood.

But Gu Xingyan seemed oblivious to his panic. Seeing Ruan Zhao’s stillness, he released his shoulder. Then, without hesitation, he gripped the base of the needle and yanked it out.

A few beads of dark red blood slid up the IV tube before dripping onto the floor. Ruan Zhao stared, wide-eyed, as a dark bruise spread across the back of Gu Xingyan’s hand. Blood welled from the injection site, but he barely reacted. He simply grabbed a cotton swab, pressed it to the wound, and held it there. When the swab was saturated, he wordlessly reached for another.

Was he serious? Didn’t he feel pain?!

Ruan Zhao had been a sickly child, spending his share of time with IV drips. He remembered constantly checking the fluid bag, calculating when it would empty. His arm would stiffen from stillness, but he never dared move, terrified the needle would dislodge and he’d be stuck again. Compared to Gu Xingyan’s apparent indifference to pain, Ruan Zhao felt like a complete coward.

No wonder some are born protagonists, and others…side characters. Even in something this small, the difference was vast. With newfound respect, Ruan Zhao silently bestowed upon Gu Xingyan the highest honor he could imagine—the most fearless person he’d ever met.

The room was silent. Gu Xingyan finished signing and returned the phone to Ruan Zhao.

Just then, a knock came from the door. It was the family driver, delivering dinner at Ruan Zhao’s mother’s behest.

The meal arrived in a three-tiered insulated container, each layer brimming with food. The top tier held Ruan Zhao’s favorites—sweet and sour ribs glistening with a thick, glossy sauce, alongside slow-braised pork belly so tender it practically trembled. The middle tier offered plump shrimp stir-fried with corn and diced carrots, and a silky, steamed egg custard infused with minced meat. The bottom tier was simple yet satisfying: a container of fluffy white rice and two steaming bowls of rich corn and mushroom soup.

Ruan Zhao wasn’t particularly hungry. After nibbling on a couple of ribs and less than half a bowl of rice, he was finished. Then, deliberately, he stirred each dish with his chopsticks, making it appear as though he’d eaten more. It was a subtle message—much like how ancient nobles refused food offered out of pity, modern people wouldn’t want leftovers.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he pushed the container toward Gu Xingyan. With the air of someone tossing scraps to a stray animal, he said, “You can have the rest.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Gu Xingyan’s dark eyes. Under Ruan Zhao’s expectant gaze, he silently accepted the meal.

He looked down at the food. The ribs gleamed with fragrant sauce, the pork belly was so tender a gentle touch of the chopsticks left an impression. The shrimp, perfectly stir-fried, looked plump and translucent. The steamed egg custard, smooth as silk, promised a velvety bite. Even before tasting it, he could almost imagine the flavors melting on his tongue.

Gu Xingyan had never experienced anything like it. The aroma alone was intoxicating, awakening a deep, long-neglected hunger within him. His mouth watered instinctively. For the first time in ages, he genuinely wanted to eat.

Ruan Zhao, misinterpreting Gu Xingyan’s silence, assumed he’d succeeded in his petty power play. Seeing Gu Xingyan stare at the meal, motionless and expressionless, Ruan Zhao felt a surge of satisfaction. He must be seething. But he owes me. He has no choice.

Ruan Zhao watched, amused, as Gu Xingyan picked up a rib with deliberate slowness—like a condemned man accepting his fate. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it.

“Well?” Ruan Zhao taunted, leaning closer. “My leftovers are delicious, aren’t they?”

Gu Xingyan had eaten far worse. Nights scavenging through garbage bins, competing with stray animals for scraps. A few leftovers? Nothing.

Between odd jobs, scrimping and saving, and neglecting his own well-being, food had never been a priority. Breakfast? A plain vegetable bun. Dinner? Another. Lunch, if he was lucky, was chili and cabbage. This meal felt almost…surreal.

Without hesitation, he ate the rib, neatly depositing the bone in the trash before reaching for a piece of braised pork belly. Then, as if answering the most obvious question, he said, “It’s delicious.”

If Gu Xingyan had ignored him, or even retorted with sarcasm, Ruan Zhao could have continued his taunts. But that simple, unaffected “It’s delicious” landed like an unexpected slap. Now what?

Speechless, Ruan Zhao stood, arms crossed, watching Gu Xingyan eat. He didn’t just eat—he devoured the meal. The ribs and pork belly vanished first, followed by the steamed egg and shrimp. Finally, he scraped the minced meat from the egg, mixing it into his rice before finishing that as well. A meal intended for three, gone in record time.

Ruan Zhao stared, dumbfounded. Was he a ghost in a past life? A starving beggar? Why does he eat like that?!

His gaze drifted downward. Gu Xingyan’s wrists were thin, his arms seemingly too slender for his broader frame. He looked deceptively sturdy; in reality, he was gaunt. The oversized hospital gown accentuated this, hanging on him like a coat on a scarecrow. This is the protagonist—favored by fate? Why does he look like he’s barely surviving?

His stare must have been obvious. Gu Xingyan suddenly turned. Under the harsh hospital lights, his pale skin looked almost ethereal, smooth and flawless. His unusual amber eyes gleamed, rare and striking—like sunlit glass beads.

Ruan Zhao blinked, surprised by the sudden eye contact. He hadn’t expected to be caught staring. A flicker of emotion crossed Gu Xingyan’s face before he looked down, a hint of annoyance in his expression. Yeah, he’s annoyed.

Gu Xingyan’s pupils narrowed, his lips forming a thin line. He glanced at Ruan Zhao, then immediately looked away, his lips parting slightly as if to exhale an unspoken Why are you staring? Annoying.

For the first time, Ruan Zhao’s face was etched into his memory. Ruan Zhao, he silently repeated. Ruan Zhao. And just like that, he remembered him.

—

By the time Ruan Zhao returned home, it was almost eleven. A deep yawn escaped him, his eyes watering with exhaustion.

The Ruan family business was booming, leaving his father swamped with work. Late nights at the office were routine—sometimes, he didn’t come home at all. Despite its size, the house felt empty. Besides the housekeeper and a few staff, it was just him and his mother.

And his mother, ever doting, had stayed up waiting. The moment she saw him, she sat up straighter on the couch and pulled him down beside her. “Finally! I was worried sick.”

Ruan Zhao’s memory of his mother was consistent—her warmth, her comforting scent, the way she held him as a child. That was before everything changed. Before the accident that claimed his parents and left him in the care of distant relatives. Afterward, his memories of having a mother grew faint.

Her gentle hand brushed his forehead, then lightly tapped his nose, teasingly. For a fleeting moment, he tensed, fighting the urge to flinch.

“How’s your friend? Was it serious?”

“…He’ll be fine. The doctor said as long as he’s awake, he should recover without any issues.”

“And the food? Did you both eat?”

Ruan Zhao held up the empty food container. “Yep. All gone.” Technically, Gu Xingyan had eaten most of it. He’d only had half a bowl of rice and a couple of ribs.

His mother chuckled. “Such a good boy.”

“You don’t often mention your friends. He must be special. Why not invite him over sometime? I’ll cook a huge meal to welcome him.”

Ruan Zhao, seeing the hopeful glint in his mother’s eyes, couldn’t refuse. He nodded slightly and murmured, “Okay.”

But…was Gu Xingyan truly a good person? A faint sense of doubt surfaced in Ruan Zhao’s mind.

Reflecting on the past few days, Ruan Zhao realized he’d done nothing but hurl insults and jabs. Not a single pleasant word. Yet, Gu Xingyan never became angry. His expression remained calm, indifferent—even when humiliated. He must be biding his time, Ruan Zhao thought. Waiting for the moment he can finally turn things around and get back at me.

Ruan Zhao yawned again. His mother noticed immediately and gently ushered him toward his room. “If you don’t get some sleep, you’ll be a wreck tomorrow.” Then, as if sensing his thoughts, she added softly, “How about I call the school and get you excused for the day? That way, you can sleep in a little longer.”

---

Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter