Axolotl Translations

The floodwaters roared—a beast unleashed. Waves crashed, torrents surged forward, swallowing everything in their path. The earth-shaking roar was deafening. The river carried trees, boulders, and debris, tearing downstream with unstoppable force. In seconds, the river had doubled in size. What had once been land—was now nothing but raging water.

On the flood barrier, they had survived. But the riverbanks—were gone. Gu Mengran and Grandpa Meng, drenched and coated in mud, collapsed onto the barrier, gasping for breath.

And Liang Zhao—he hadn’t made it up in time. Like the broken trees, like the wreckage—he was gone. Swallowed by the flood.

The thunderous rush of water never ceased. The air felt heavy, suffocating. Gu Mengran lay flat, silent. Mud obscured most of his face, hiding his expression. But Grandpa Meng didn’t need to see. He knew. This kind of loss—he knew exactly how it felt.

Could someone survive being swept away by a flood like that? Absolutely not. Not with that kind of force. Even Grandpa Meng felt his chest tighten. They had been through so much together. Even if Liang Zhao wasn’t family—even if they had only known him for a short time—they had still shared life and death. And in the end—Liang Zhao had saved him. The weight on his chest was unbearable. He couldn’t breathe.

The dead don’t return. But the living—they have to keep going. Grandpa Meng had lived long enough to learn this truth. He forced his emotions down, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Wiping mud from his face, he sat up and patted Gu Mengran lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s go, kid. We don’t know the size of that landslide dam, or if another wave is coming. We need to get away from the river—fast.”

He expected to have to convince Gu Mengran. To comfort him. But before he could finish speaking, Gu Mengran sprang to his feet. He wiped his face, shook off the mud—and strode forward without so much as a glance at the river.

Something’s not right. Grandpa Meng blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, from a distance ahead, Gu Mengran turned back. “Hurry up, Grandpa. This mud is disgusting. Let’s find a safe spot to wash up.”

“Ah—right, coming.” Grandpa Meng hurried after him.

Still not right. Something about this felt deeply, deeply wrong. Grandpa Meng would have preferred him to shout, to cry—anything. Anything but this eerie calm.

After a long hesitation, he spoke again—softly, carefully. “Mengran… what if we check downstream? Just in case?”

Gu Mengran said nothing. He simply kept walking.

Meng Gaoyang grew anxious. “Don’t just stay quiet, Mengran! We knew him—we can’t just leave without knowing for sure. If he’s alive, we find him. If he’s dead, we bring him back. It’s the least we can do.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. “I know you’re hurting, kid. But we should at least try. There’s still a chance.”

Gu Mengran slowed his pace slightly, glancing at his grandfather. “Grandpa.” His tone was calm, matter-of-fact. “Stop talking about bodies. I’m fine. And Liang Zhao’s fine too.”

Meng Gaoyang’s heart leaped into his throat. “What do you mean, ‘Liang Zhao’s fine’?”

“He’s not dead,” Gu Mengran said lightly, shrugging as if it were obvious.

Oh no. Meng Gaoyang smacked his forehead. The kid’s in denial. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He took a sharp breath. “Mengran, don’t scare me like this. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to scream, scream. You’re not alone—you still have me! I raised you, remember? You still need to take care of your old grandpa when I’m old and gray!”

…

For nearly half an hour, Meng Gaoyang talked nonstop. For nearly half an hour, Gu Mengran said nothing. It wasn’t until they climbed over a steep hill and reached a narrow, winding country road that he finally stopped walking.

Without a word, he sat down. “…Should be safe now,” Gu Mengran exhaled, clearly exhausted. His breathing was uneven, his face slightly pale. After a moment, he reached into his space and pulled out two bottles of mineral water. Without a second thought, he handed one to his grandfather. “Sit down, Grandpa. Drink some water, take a break.”

Meng Gaoyang accepted the water, but instead of sitting down, he remained standing, looking down at Gu Mengran. “Did you even hear a word I just said?”

“I heard you.” Gu Mengran recited his grandfather’s words back to him—about accepting fate, about how everyone dies eventually—word for word. By the time he finished, his throat was dry. He twisted open the water bottle, taking several deep gulps before flashing a smile. “But Grandpa, Liang Zhao really is fine.”

Meng Gaoyang felt his temples throb. “Fine? You keep saying that—if he’s fine, then where is he? Point him out to me!” Though he said this, deep down, he was terrified. If Gu Mengran actually pointed at thin air, he might just faint on the spot.

“Alright then.” Without hesitation, Gu Mengran extended his hand.

“…I asked you to show me, not—”

“Just trust me. Have I ever hurt you?”

Meng Gaoyang let out a long sigh. Helpless, he reached out. The moment their hands touched—everything went black.

Three minutes later, as his eyes adjusted to the light, Meng Gaoyang slowly opened them. And froze. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. The thick, murky fog had completely vanished, revealing an expansive, breathtaking view. Bright sunlight. A vast blue sky. A crystal-clear stream, flowing gently. Herds of cattle and sheep.

And—a shivering dog.

And—a man who should have been dead… but wasn’t.

Who wouldn’t be dumbfounded by this? Meng Gaoyang’s pupils contracted sharply. His lips trembled uncontrollably, and after a long struggle, he finally managed to voice the question weighing on his heart: “…Mengran, are we—are we dead? Is this heaven?”

“Come on, Grandpa, of course not! This is my space. Another function of it.” Worried that his grandfather might panic, Gu Mengran held his hand tightly.

But in the next second—his left hand was suddenly grabbed in return. And the grip was so strong, it nearly crushed his bones. Sensing danger, Gu Mengran pried free and bolted. Behind him, his grandfather’s thunderous roar followed closely. “GU MENGRAN! You have exactly three seconds to explain this properly!”

“Shower first, Grandpa! I’m gonna go take a bath!”

—

After the storm, the peace felt hard-earned. By the upper stream, three figures lay side by side on the uneven ground, completely unbothered by the discomfort. Gu Mengran, resting his head on his arms, had already drifted into a deep sleep. Meng Gaoyang and Liang Zhao, on the other hand, chatted idly, instinctively lowering their voices.

From Liang Zhao, Meng Gaoyang learned about the space—its origin, its functions. And the barren land stretching before him? He found it fascinating. Of course, the questions kept coming. “The sky here… does it never turn dark?” No sooner had Liang Zhao answered one question than another followed. But he remained patient, speaking calmly and unhurriedly. “I don’t think so. I’ve been here two or three times, all at different hours, and I’ve never seen night fall.”

“Oh wow, this place is amazing! Fresh water, open land, completely cut off from the world… If only we could live here permanently! Forget earthquakes and floods—even if the entire land disappears, we wouldn’t have to worry one bit.” Meng Gaoyang smacked his lips, his eyes filled with regret.

Liang Zhao chuckled. “Look on the bright side—we can grow crops here, and if we ever face danger, this space is the perfect emergency escape. Compared to others, we’re incredibly lucky.”

“Well, that’s true. Our Mengran must be blessed. I already thought having a storage space was heaven’s way of favoring him, but who would have guessed he had this hidden up his sleeve, too?” The old man laughed heartily. But after a few chuckles, his face suddenly darkened. “You two little brats are something else, huh? Keeping something this important from me? I thought you had drowned, you know that?! I was devastated!”

“…I’m sorry, Grandpa Meng. It won’t happen again.” Liang Zhao’s voice was quiet, his tone completely sincere.

Meng Gaoyang waved a hand. “This wasn’t your idea. No need to guess—I already know this was all Gu Mengran’s doing.”

“He just didn’t want to scare you.”

“Scare me?” Meng Gaoyang’s fury reignited. “I thought you were gone, and I spent the entire journey talking my mouth dry, trying to comfort him. And what does he do? Instead of just telling me the truth, he decides to keep me in suspense and let me suffer!”

Liang Zhao raised an eyebrow. “Wait… he didn’t tell you I was alive?”

“He did say it,” the old man muttered, rubbing his nose with a guilty expression. “But he just threw it out there—no explanation, nothing! How was I supposed to believe him?”

“Grandpa Meng, he’d never joke about something like that.” Liang Zhao wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but without hesitation, he stepped in to defend Gu Mengran. “He hadn’t slept in nearly two days—he was diving into floodwaters to save a dog, racing against the current… completely exhausted. He wasn’t trying to keep you in suspense—he was just too tired to explain.”

The old man’s face stiffened slightly, a flicker of guilt flashing through his eyes. “…I did overlook that.” He sighed. “That rascal really went two days without rest… No wonder he passed out on this rock-hard ground like it was the softest bed in the world. And here I am, still—ah, forget it!”

“It’s fine, Grandpa Meng,” Liang Zhao said with a perfectly straight face. “He can’t hear you anyway.”

“Pfft—HAHAHAHA!” Meng Gaoyang burst into laughter, then clapped Liang Zhao on the shoulder with a hearty grin. “Listen, I’m getting up there in years—memory’s not what it used to be. You, kid—you’ve gotta keep an eye on Mengran for me, look out for him more.”

Before Liang Zhao could fully process the meaning behind those words, the old man smoothly switched topics. “Speaking of which, I really ought to thank you. If you hadn’t risked your life for me today, this old bag of bones probably wouldn’t have made it.”

“No way, Grandpa, you—” Halfway through his sentence, Liang Zhao suddenly realized he’d been led into a trap. His eyes flicked sideways, catching the old man’s knowing smirk. With a soft chuckle, he said nothing more.

Outside, the world was in chaos. Inside the space, time flowed in peaceful silence. Staying here meant there was no need to be on edge, but since they couldn’t bring supplies in or out, it was never meant for long-term residence.

When Gu Mengran woke, his whole body felt like it had been through a beating—his back ached, his legs cramped, and his stomach growled with hunger. Every muscle protested in discomfort. The space was safe, but reality couldn’t be avoided. The gnawing hunger in his stomach was a relentless reminder: it was time to leave. Time to return to the real world.

Rubbing his sore shoulders, Gu Mengran checked his watch—it was already past five in the afternoon. The spot where his grandfather and Liang Zhao had been lying was now empty. Glancing around, he quickly spotted them by the stream not far away.

The two were standing in the shallow water, pant legs rolled up, busy giving Xiao Huang a makeover. Their teamwork was seamless. Liang Zhao firmly held the dog in place—gripping its snout and legs to keep it from escaping—while Grandpa Meng scooped water from the stream and poured it over the muddy mess of fur. His skilled hands worked diligently, scrubbing away at the dirt like a seasoned dog groomer.

Having barely survived the flood, Xiao Huang clearly wasn’t thrilled about getting wet again. The little mutt kicked and squirmed with all its might, but against Liang Zhao’s strength, it was a hopeless battle. Unable to bark properly with its mouth clamped shut, it could only let out a pitiful, muffled whine.

Since they hadn’t been able to clean it up right away, the mud had dried into solid clumps, clinging deep into the fur. With no soap, no buckets, and no proper tools, getting it completely clean in one go was nearly impossible. And given how frightened the poor thing was, the struggle was only going to get worse.

After a quick rinse, Xiao Huang was at least clean enough that the dirt wasn’t visible anymore. Grandpa Meng wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Gave him a bath, gave myself a bath—what a workout. Next time, Mengran can handle it himself. He loves this kind of stuff.”

Liang Zhao hummed in response, swished the dog through the water one last time, then gently placed it back on the shore. Xiao Huang was still shaken, his legs trembling like leaves in the wind. But instead of running off, he instinctively followed the universal wet-dog law—shaking furiously, sending water droplets flying everywhere like a living sprinkler system.

Caught off guard, both Liang Zhao and Grandpa Meng took a full blast to the face. And the water wasn’t exactly clean—it was still mixed with streaks of mud. Grandpa Meng was about to scold the mutt when he looked up and saw Gu Mengran walking over at just the wrong moment, stepping straight into the splash zone. A small, targeted downpour rained down on him.

“Hahaha!” Grandpa Meng burst into laughter, pointing at him gleefully. “Perfect timing, kid! That ought to wake you up a little.”

Gu Mengran shook the water from his hair and let out a long sigh. “If we’re done here, let’s head out. I’m starving.”

The laughter disappeared instantly. Grandpa Meng also sighed. “Ah, the air here is so fresh. Outside, it’s nothing but darkness… Hard to leave this place behind.”

“You’ll be back soon anyway,” Liang Zhao said casually. “We still have to farm here.” His gaze drifted to the damp little mutt, and after a brief pause, he asked Gu Mengran, “Are we bringing the dog out with us?”

Gu Mengran didn’t respond. He didn’t even spare Liang Zhao a glance. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Sensing something was off, Grandpa Meng squinted at Liang Zhao. “What’s with the cold shoulder? Who pissed him off?”

Liang Zhao’s lips pressed into a thin line. He lowered his gaze slightly, his expression darkening. “Probably me.”

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