Axolotl Translations

The evening sky deepened, casting shadows over the alleyway. No streetlights illuminated the narrow street. At the end, heaps of discarded junk and cardboard boxes were piled against the wall. Ruan Zhao and Gu Xingyan squeezed into the small gap between the trash and the brick wall, barely wide enough for both of them, forcing them close. Close enough to hear each other’s heartbeats.

Behind Ruan Zhao was a grimy wall. Worse, beside him was a rat—long dead, its body completely shriveled. Its black eyes bulged grotesquely, and dried blood stained the floor.

So filthy. So disgusting. So horrifying.

A shiver ran down Ruan Zhao’s spine. Desperate to avoid touching anything, he pressed himself against Gu Xingyan, practically burying himself in his chest.

Afraid he’d fall, Gu Xingyan instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist. The loose hem of Ruan Zhao’s shirt was pressed against him, outlining his slender frame. The unfamiliar sensation made Gu Xingyan freeze. His body stiffened, as if something short-circuited. The sounds of the chase faded—for a moment, everything was silent.

His palm, in stark contrast, grew warmer. Gu Xingyan’s pupils trembled slightly, his gaze slowly shifting. Ruan Zhao’s fingertips were white and trembling, clutching Gu Xingyan’s sleeve, twisting the fabric. His breathing was erratic, warm puffs of air spilling against the side of Gu Xingyan’s neck, sending faint ripples down his spine.

“Ruan Zhao…” His voice was soft, barely audible.

“Hm?”

“……”

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the alley entrance. “Find them! Tear this place apart—I want them caught!” It was the blond thug who had been hit with the ice cream, his hoarse voice dripping with rage. “That little shit messed with me?! He’s done for once I catch him!”

“You—” Gu Xingyan, seemingly unaware of the danger, began to speak. Ruan Zhao nearly jumped out of his skin. Fearing they’d be heard, he clamped his hand over Gu Xingyan’s mouth. “Shut up!”

The blonde and his lackeys searched, overturning boxes and kicking trash, finding nothing.Most of the cream had been wiped off his face, but the sticky residue in his hair still clung to him—an infuriating, constant reminder of his humiliation. “Two grown men can’t just vanish! What the hell—did they turn into ghosts?!”

Frustrated, the blonde thug kicked a pile of junk, sending debris crashing down. Gu Xingyan instinctively pressed Ruan Zhao’s head down, shielding him. Everything fell on Gu Xingyan—rotten foam, rusted basins, jagged wood.

Hearing the noise, the blonde hesitated, eyeing the trash pile. In the dim light, the heap looked like nothing more than discarded furniture and broken boxes. But… was that a space back there? Big enough to hide someone?

Just then, his lackeys returned, dejected. The blonde raised a hand for silence, then, with a menacing glint, unsheathed his knife. The blade flashed white in the moonlight, his sneer reflecting in its polished edge. He was convinced someone was hiding there. He gestured for his men to surround the area. Knife in hand, he crept forward, his steps slow and deliberate. His footsteps echoed in the alley, eerie and foreboding.

Ruan Zhao held his breath, carefully shifting off Gu Xingyan, prying his arm away, and quietly picking up a broken plank. If anyone gets too close—I’ll strike first.

Gu Xingyan gave Ruan Zhao’s trembling fingers a reassuring squeeze before silently taking the plank from his hands. His lips moved silently: Don’t be scared.

Ruan Chao froze for a moment, then snapped back to reality. Wait, you took my weapon! What am I supposed to use now?! Panicked, he grabbed the nearest thing—a battered plastic basin with a hole in it.

The gang members were closing in. One more turn and they’d be spotted. The blonde thug had kicked over two trash piles, his frustration escalating. He cursed nonstop under his breath, ranting about how he was going to carve holes into both of them…

Then—a police siren wailed in the distance, growing louder. The blonde snapped to attention. They all had records. Some had done ten days, others had spent months behind bars. The moment they heard that siren, instinct kicked in. One guy had already crouched down by the wall, hands over his head like he was ready to be arrested.

The blonde kicked him. ““ARE YOU STUPID?! Cops aren’t even here yet, and you idiots are already surrendering? What, waiting to get cuffed? MOVE IT! RUN!”

And just like that, the entire gang scattered, sprinting off as fast as they could.

The alley fell silent once again.

Ruan Zhao jumped out from behind the junk pile, his body aching from being cramped for so long. His calves were numb. As he tried to stand, his legs buckled. Gu Xingyan caught his arm, preventing a face-plant.

“Ah…thanks…” The word slipped out instinctively, and he instantly regretted it. Ruan Zhao pressed his lips together, shoving Gu Xingyan’s arm away, his usual disdain returning. “I don’t need your help.”

His fingers brushed something damp and sticky. In the dim moonlight, he saw the smear on his hand—blood. His pupils contracted, his eyes widening in shock. Panic set in. Blood? Why was there blood?

Frantically, he pulled out his phone, his hands shaking so violently he dropped it. The screen cracked. Ignoring it, he crouched, picked up the phone, and switched on the flashlight. The beam landed on Gu Xingyan’s arm. A deep crimson stain soaked his sleeve, the wound still oozing, drops of blood sliding down his skin.

Ruan Zhao reached out, then hesitated, his hand freezing midair. He was afraid to touch it. “But…the blonde’s knife didn’t even touch you,” he murmured, his voice faltering. “How did this…?”

Then it clicked. He remembered the collapsing junk pile, Gu Xingyan shielding him without hesitation. So… That’s when he got hurt?

“A piece of broken glass fell and landed here.” Gu Xingyan’s voice was flat, emotionless—as if discussing someone else’s injury. Casually, he lowered his arm, as if preventing Ruan Zhao from seeing more. “It’s just a scratch. Nothing serious.”

Ruan Zhao looked down. A small pool of bright red stained the pavement, a single drop on his shoe blooming like a crimson flower. He pressed his lips together. Nothing serious? What would be considered serious then? A broken arm? A missing leg? Why did Gu Xingyan dismiss his injuries? It was the same as before. Did he not feel pain?

Gu Xingyan took a few steps, then paused, noticing Ruan Zhao wasn’t following. He turned, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “…Why aren’t you coming?”

“…Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

Ruan Zhao: “…” His voice was stiff. “No need. I’ll call my driver.”

Gu Xingyan nodded, unconcerned. But he didn’t leave. He simply stood there, staring at Ruan Zhao. As if silently asking—So? Why aren’t you calling?

Ruan Zhao took a deep breath, exhaling as if releasing pent-up emotions. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed Gu Xingyan’s hand, and pulled him along. Gu Xingyan barely made a sound before Ruan Zhao glared at him. “Don’t talk!” Feeling the strength of Ruan Zhao’s grip, Gu Xingyan’s fingers curled slightly, but he didn’t resist. He allowed himself to be led.

Ruan Zhao dragged him to a small, still-open clinic to get his wound treated. The doctor reached for Gu Xingyan’s sleeve with medical scissors, ready to cut it. Gu Xingyan instinctively recoiled. The Haicheng No. 1 uniform was expensive—over 200 yuan. Every cent he made each month went toward repaying debts. He had to stretch every bit of money to its limit. Buying another uniform simply wasn’t an option.

Noticing his flinch, Ruan Zhao quickly pressed down on his arm. “What are you dodging for?”

Gu Xingyan’s gaze flickered. Faced with Ruan Zhao’s concern and urgency, his usual indifference wavered. Suddenly, the reason for his hesitation felt embarrassing. After a pause, he murmured, “I can take it off myself.”

Ruan Zhao scoffed. “Your wound is stuck to the fabric. Do you want to rip it open and make it worse?”

“I can handle it.”

Ruan Zhao knew Gu Xingyan was stubborn. Pressing firmly on his arm with both hands, he bluntly told the doctor, “Ignore him. Just cut it.”

The doctor hesitated for a moment, but since Gu Xingyan didn’t object any further, he went ahead and made a clean cut in the fabric.

Gu Xingyan’s expression remained unchanged, but Ruan Zhao thought he saw a flicker of…grievance?

Feeling a little guilty, Ruan Chao couldn’t bring himself to snap at him again. Instead, he softened his tone. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Gu Xingyan glanced at him briefly before looking away, shaking his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ruan Chao noticed Gu Xingyan’s sleeve. The fabric, washed too many times, had started to fade. A thought struck him. He leaned close, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear, “It’s just a uniform. I’ll buy you a new one.”

If that wasn’t enough, he could get him seven or eight—one for every day of the week.

But for some reason, instead of cheering up, Gu Xingyan’s mood worsened. “No need,” he said coldly.

Ruan Zhao: “…” Seriously? This isn’t okay, that isn’t okay—why are you so hard to please?!

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