Axolotl Translations

Sharing a single tent had its perks—except for the unbearable heat. By the time Gu Mengran woke the next morning, he was practically marinated in his own sweat. Skipping breakfast entirely, he dragged Grandpa and Liang Zhao into the space for an ice-cold shower.

Yet the moment they stepped out, had a quick meal, and packed up their tent, tables, and chairs—they were drenched in sweat all over again. The three of them could still tolerate it, barely. But poor Xiao Huang lay sprawled on the ground, panting heavily, tongue lolling out. Even its favorite rice soaked in meat broth from the night before only got half-eaten.

Worried that it might get heatstroke, Gu Mengran decided to stash it in the space before they set out. There was no denying it now—the extreme heat had officially begun.

Gu Mengran took off his multifunctional watch to check the temperature. Sure enough, a blistering 42°C (107.6°F). He had expected this, but still—his heart sank just a little. Because the real nightmare wasn’t the heat itself—it was having to travel under this scorching sun.

Their trusty Grandpa-mobile was still stored in the space, and Gu Mengran had considered driving. But with visibility this poor? They’d be lucky to make it ten meters before crashing into a ditch.

Once the campsite was cleared, Gu Mengran handed a backpack to both Liang Zhao and Grandpa. Each bag contained some snacks and water—nothing excessive, just enough to keep up appearances in case they ran into people along the way.

Fully geared up, the three set out toward the east under the faint morning light. From dawn until dusk, they didn’t encounter a single soul. Occasionally, they passed scattered buildings along the roadside, but as they got closer, it was clear that none had survived the disaster. Some had collapsed entirely. Others stood as nothing more than crumbling ruins. Even two- or three-story residential houses hadn’t been spared.

By the time the last light faded from the sky, they were drenched in sweat, finally making it across the highway and leaving the desolate wilderness behind. At last, they entered the city. But the moment they stepped in, they realized—the city was no different from the wild. There were no glowing streetlights, no bustling crowds, no signs of life. It was as if the entire place had been abandoned, left to rot in silence.

The devastation was even worse than expected. Following the main road deeper into the city, they found themselves navigating through an endless maze of abandoned vehicles, so packed together there was barely any space to walk. Skyscrapers? Almost none remained standing. The city had been reduced to ruins—flattened, lifeless, broken.

As they ventured deeper, they finally encountered survivors. But these people were nothing but hollow shells. Like puppets drained of life, they moved without fear of the thick fog and dust, mechanically scavenging through the wreckage. Even the air itself felt thick with sorrow and despair.

After a full day of traveling, exhaustion weighed heavily on them. They needed to find a place to rest—fast. But after wandering for over an hour, searching aimlessly, they couldn’t even find a patch of level ground to set up camp.

Circling back to the main road, Gu Mengran was completely wiped out. Spotting a cluster of abandoned cars blocking the street, he casually pointed toward them and turned to Liang Zhao and Grandpa. “How about we just crash here?” he suggested. “Some of these cars should still be functional. We can take a few, store them in the space, and clear out enough room to set up the tent.”

The idea wasn’t bad, and even Meng Gaoyang agreed. However… He glanced around, clicking his tongue. “There are still people nearby. The fog might block our view, but just in case, we should find somewhere more secluded. Sleeping out in the open, right on the road, isn’t exactly safe.”

“But it’s so damn hot,” Gu Mengran whined, fanning himself desperately. He could feel the sweat sticking to his skin, as if he was melting under the heat.

Liang Zhao looked over at him, his voice warm and steady. “Want me to carry you?”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” Gu Mengran shot him down instantly.

Liang Zhao chuckled. “Then keep walking. Unless you’d rather wake up in the middle of the night to someone pulling open our tent flap?”

Gu Mengran froze. Then, without hesitation—“Let’s go. Right now. Move, move, move!”

Rows upon rows of abandoned cars stretched as far as the eye could see. Since they had already decided to take a few with them, Gu Mengran pulled out a flashlight and started checking them out—like he was casually browsing at a car show. His full attention was on the vehicles, completely unaware that danger was closing in.

Still chatting and laughing with Grandpa about which car to pick, Gu Mengran was caught completely off guard when—a loud, urgent voice suddenly pierced through the thick fog, echoing down the silent street.

“STOP! DON’T MOVE! STOP RIGHT THERE!” A woman’s urgent voice rang out, loud and panicked.

Gu Mengran was someone who listened to warnings, and even though he had no idea who was shouting, he immediately stopped in his tracks.

He shifted his flashlight forward, the dim beam illuminating the road ahead. The moment he got a clearer look, his entire body jolted—goosebumps instantly rising along his arms. The fog had concealed a terrifying sight.

The once-flat concrete road was brutally split in two, as if hacked apart by an enormous axe. A gaping, nearly two-meter-wide fissure stretched silently across the ground, yawning into a bottomless abyss. One more step… and he would have been gone.

Gu Mengran stood frozen, unable to utter a sound. Grandpa and Liang Zhao, unaware of what had just happened, craned their necks to look—and their hearts instantly leaped into their throats.

“Holy hell, that was close!” Meng Gaoyang’s legs nearly gave out, and he stumbled backward, clutching his chest.

Liang Zhao’s expression darkened. He held his breath, grasping Gu Mengran’s wrist and pulling him back a few steps.

Now at a safer distance from the fissure, Gu Mengran slowly snapped out of his shock. Instead of immediately leaving, he pointed his flashlight toward the thick fog ahead and raised his voice. “Thank you! Thank you for warning us!”

His words vanished into the fog, swallowed by the silence. But he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. After a brief pause, he called out again—“Hello? We need to get across too. Do you know if there’s a way through?”

Silence. The only sound left was their own breathing.

Realizing the person likely didn’t want to reveal themselves, Gu Mengran offered one final thank-you before turning back with Grandpa and Liang Zhao, ready to leave.

But just as they were about to go, the clear, crisp voice called out once more—“Go around to your right.”

Gu Mengran grinned knowingly and called back, “Got it, thanks!”

The fissure stretched for over a hundred meters, forcing them to walk alongside it for nearly ten minutes before they finally reached the other side. Their lives had been saved thanks to that stranger’s warning. Since the voice had come from nearby, Gu Mengran wanted to return the favor properly—he never forgot a kindness.

So, he pulled some bread, biscuits, and milk from his space, intending to offer them as a thank-you gift. Both sides of the fissure looked the same—the road was still packed with abandoned vehicles. Searching for someone in the dark fog with just a flashlight was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

With no other choice, they raised their voices and called out, hoping for an answer. But whether the person had already left or simply refused to be found, the only response was silence.

“Forget it.” Drained from exhaustion and heat, Meng Gaoyang wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed. “They probably left a long time ago. No point wasting energy—we still have a long way to go tomorrow. Let’s find somewhere to rest.”

Sweat stung Gu Mengran’s eyes. He lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face and nodded. “Alright, let’s keep—”

THUD!

A sudden thud, like something heavy hitting the ground, came from ahead and to the left. Liang Zhao reacted instantly—before Gu Mengran could even process it, he had already snatched the flashlight from his hand and was striding toward the source of the sound.

Gu Mengran exchanged a glance with Grandpa before quickly following Liang Zhao.

The distance wasn’t far—in less than a minute, Liang Zhao’s flashlight landed on a narrow gap between two vehicles. A white paint bucket lay tipped over on the wet pavement, clear liquid slowly spilling from its mouth. They didn’t need to inspect it closely—one whiff of the air was enough to tell them. Gasoline.

Gu Mengran’s breath hitched. He had a bad feeling. As the beam shifted, his gaze followed—and just as expected, a figure appeared.

His heart nearly stopped. A young girl with a high ponytail was hiding behind one of the cars. When the flashlight swept over her, she flinched and raised an iron rod high above her head, her entire posture defensive, like a cornered cat. She pointed the rod straight at Liang Zhao, but her arms were visibly shaking.

Perhaps realizing that her stance wasn’t very intimidating, she widened her eyes and tried to sound forceful, her voice ringing out—“Stop! Don’t come any closer! I mean it!”

Gu Mengran immediately softened his tone, worried about scaring her. He gripped Liang Zhao’s arm and carefully peeked out, lowering his voice to sound as gentle as possible. “Don’t be afraid, big sis.” He smiled reassuringly. “We’re not bad people. We just crossed over from the other side. Were you the one who warned us earlier?”

The girl didn’t relax. Instead, her expression grew even more guarded. “I did you a favor, and now what? What do you want?” She tightened her grip on the rod. “I don’t have food, I don’t have money—just leave me alone!”

“Miss, you’ve truly misunderstood our intentions.”

Meng Gaoyang smiled, striving to project an image of utter harmlessness and friendliness. “We were simply passing by and wanted to express our gratitude in person.”

To underscore his words, Gu Mengran quickly raised the bag of bread and biscuits, offering the young woman a warm smile.

“See? We even brought a small token of our appreciation! We’re genuinely not dangerous people.”

Clang—

The iron rod slipped from her grasp, clattering against the ground.

The young woman visibly relaxed, leaning against the car as she exhaled a long breath of relief.

“I’m sorry…Things have been chaotic since the earthquake. I-I just…”

Her embarrassment was palpable.

Gu Mengran immediately waved it off, his tone reassuring. “No worries at all. The world is a different place now. It’s perfectly understandable for a young woman traveling alone to be extra cautious.”

Seeing that she had finally lowered her guard, Gu Mengran offered her the thank-you gift he had prepared.

Food had become a precious commodity in the wake of the disaster. Wei Qianlan understood this better than most.

The fact that they were willing to share—when so many others were hoarding—made them seem far from the ruthless bandits she had initially suspected.

Her tension further dissipated, and she accepted the food with both hands, her voice sincere as she said, “Thank you. My name is Wei Qianlan.”

“Gu Mengran,” he introduced himself with a grin, then gestured to the others. “This is my grandfather, Meng Gaoyang. And this is my…my brother, Liang Zhao.”

He pointedly disregarded the heated glare Liang Zhao directed his way.

With this simple exchange, the once-fraught atmosphere became noticeably lighter and more relaxed.

Wei Qianlan studied the three of them carefully before picking up the fallen paint bucket. Her voice was soft as she asked, “You’re not from around here, are you? Your accent sounds different.”

Gu Mengran’s expression remained neutral. “No, we’re from Shaozhou.”

Shaozhou wasn’t far from Linhuai. Wei Qianlan nodded slightly, then asked, “How’s the situation over there? No rescue efforts either?”

Gu Mengran let out a small sigh. “It’s about the same as here. Buildings have collapsed, casualties are everywhere. We waited for rescue, but when none came, we decided to head this way. We thought Linhuai might have some relief efforts, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head in feigned helplessness.

Rescue? Gu Mengran knew the truth better than anyone. In his past life, most cities never got the help they desperately needed. With thick fog and extreme heat, planes couldn’t fly, vehicles couldn’t move, and those who survived the earthquake became prisoners in a cage of steel and rubble. If you wanted to live—you had to save yourself.

Wei Qianlan had no idea what was running through his mind. She pressed her lips together in a moment of silence before asking slowly, “I see… So, are you planning to stay here?”

Staying here was a death sentence. The only slim chance of survival was heading for higher ground. Gu Mengran met her bright, expectant eyes and felt a twinge of guilt. He hesitated, then found himself saying, “We’re not staying. We’re heading upstream, toward other cities. What about you? Do you want to come with us?”

It was rare for him to offer, but his kindness was gently refused. Wei Qianlan shook her head with a smile. “No, I’m not alone. I have family here—I can’t leave them behind.”

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