Axolotl Translations

“Thank you! Thank you for the medicine, the fans, the cooling patches. The kids wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight without you. I—I’m thanking you on their behalf.”

The courtyard was shrouded in thick fog, the night gloomy and oppressive—except for the shimmer of tears in Zhou Qin’s eyes. Petite, her voice choked with emotion, she stood beside Wei Qianlan, gazing earnestly at Gu Mengran and the others. Then, she bowed deeply.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! No need for that!” Before she could finish, a firm hand pressed against her shoulder. Meng Gaoyang’s brows were knitted so tightly he could probably crush a mosquito between them. Once the two girls straightened, he let out a long breath and grumbled, “What’s with young people these days? Why do you have to bow so dramatically just to say thanks?”

Wei Qianlan started to protest. “Grandpa, you helped us so much, this is only—”

“Only what?!” Meng Gaoyang interrupted. “Lass, this was nothing but a small favor! You two are the ones taking care of all these kids in times like these—that’s what truly takes heart! That’s real kindness!” He meant every word. He admired them, felt deeply moved, and his eyes reddened.

Zhou Qin sniffled, trying to hold back tears. “Grandpa, you’re exaggerating. We’re not that kind or noble… we just… we just couldn’t leave them.”

“Good girls. You’re both good girls.”

“How many kids were at your school? Didn’t their parents come for them?” Gu Mengran, less sentimental than his grandfather, prioritized gathering information and cut straight to the point.

Zhou Qin’s shoulders trembled, and for a moment, she was speechless. Wei Qianlan gently patted her arm and sighed. “Our school was small. Including teachers and students, we had fewer than a hundred people. After the yellow fog, classes for the younger kids were suspended. Only our oldest class was still meeting.”

“Many parents were worried and kept their children home. The day of the earthquake, only fourteen kids came. The quake hit fast and hard, and the school building collapsed—but luckily, we were in the activity room. That’s the only reason we survived.” Wei Qianlan gestured to the left, toward the darkness. In the pitch-black night, nothing was visible.

“Fourteen kids,” Meng Gaoyang muttered, his gaze drifting toward the shadowy void where the activity room stood. “And the others…?”

“They’re safe. All of them,” Wei Qianlan said steadily. “After the earthquake, six were eventually picked up by their parents. The remaining eight… no one’s come for them yet.”

She left the sentence unfinished, but everyone understood. No parent would abandon their child—except Gu Gu Decheng. Or the dead.

A heavy silence fell, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down. Even just standing there, the heat was relentless. Gu Mengran wiped his forehead, glancing at the sweat on his palm. “So… what’s the plan? Staying here?” he asked softly.

“We don’t know.” Wei Qianlan shook her head, her eyes uncertain. “You probably saw it on your way in—one building in the kindergarten is still standing. The new cafeteria we built in the back. Zhou Qin and I checked it; structurally, it’s intact, and there’s a good supply of rice, flour, and oil inside. It should last us a while.”

“We were going to move the kids into the cafeteria, but…” Zhou Qin took a shaky breath. “But the parents who came for their children—and even some of the staff—taught us a hard lesson. The building may still be standing… but human decency collapsed long ago.”

She couldn’t hold back the tears. Large, heavy drops streamed down her face. Not wanting anyone to see her cry, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “They raided the place like bandits! They tore through the building, grabbing everything they could! They didn’t care if the kids starved—they took all the food we had.”

“Those ungrateful bastards!” Old Meng’s face flushed with fury. “Repaying kindness with cruelty—worse than animals!”

Gu Mengran’s voice was calm but direct. “How have you managed these past few days?”

Wei Qianlan sighed. “People keep coming by, searching for supplies. Since the cafeteria isn’t safe, we’ve been hiding in the activity room. During the day, one of us stays with the children while the other scavenges for food. It’s barely enough.”

“Two nights ago, the temperature soared. It’s unbearable.”

“The kindergarten has a generator, so we dragged it over and set it up. We got the AC running… but after only one day, it broke down.” Zhou Qin wiped her swollen eyes and sighed wearily. “We don’t know what to do. The power’s been out for half a day, and Zixuan already has heatstroke. If it stays this hot, the kids won’t last much longer.”

Gu Mengran frowned. “It broke after just one day?” His gaze sharpened. “Is it diesel or gasoline? What kind of fuel did you use?”

Wei Qianlan hesitated, looking uneasy. “Generators use different fuels?” She exchanged a nervous glance with Zhou Qin. “We… we used gasoline. We drained it from abandoned cars.”

Gu Mengran stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like you used the wrong fuel.”

“You know how to fix generators?” Zhou Qin asked eagerly, her red-rimmed eyes shining with hope. Gu Mengran hesitated, avoiding her gaze and pressing his lips together.

He could fix it. At worst, he could even give them a brand-new generator. But then what? A generator and AC could only help so much. The heat was intensifying daily—ordinary air conditioning wouldn’t stand a chance against the coming extreme temperatures. And even if they survived the heatwave, Linhuai City was downstream of the Huangjiang River. It wouldn’t be long before it was swallowed by water.

Eight children. Two young women. Gu Mengran felt a headache coming on. He wasn’t one to ignore good people struggling in a hopeless situation.

After a brief silence, he lifted his head, meeting their gazes with unusual seriousness. “You should leave. Staying isn’t a long-term solution. Two people working, ten mouths to feed—if no rescue comes, how long can you last?”

The two women froze, the weight of his words settling over them. After a minute, Zhou Qin spoke. “You mean… go to a city that wasn’t hit by the earthquake? But the fog is so thick, and we have the children… how can we leave?”

No earthquakes? Gu Mengran realized something—with communication down, they didn’t know this was global. He couldn’t tell them directly. “Something like that,” he said vaguely. “Other cities might have rescue operations, or safe zones. It’s better to look than wait for the worst. As for how to leave…”

Gu Mengran considered. “We’re going to Yinan. You could come with us. We have a vehicle, food, and we can help with the children.”

“Yinan? That’s far…” Zhou Qin hesitated.

“You don’t have to go all the way to Yinan,” Gu Mengran explained. “We’ll pass through several places. If we find a safe zone or rescue team, you can stop there.”

The idea of a vehicle—with AC, food, and supplies—was tempting. Wei Qianlan asked, “But how can you drive in this fog? Do you have enough fuel? Enough food and water for everyone?”

“We got here from Shaozhou, so we can leave just as easily,” Gu Mengran replied. “You don’t need to worry. We have plenty of fuel, food, water, and supplies.”

In a disaster, finding a group willing to help strangers was rare. Wei Qianlan knew this might be their only chance. If they didn’t go, they’d be trapped in Linhuai.

Should they go… or stay? Zhou Qin’s hesitation was clear, and Wei Qianlan couldn’t decide alone. “When are you leaving?” she asked. “Can we talk it over first?”

Gu Mengran checked the time—3 AM. “Before nightfall. Take your time. If you’re coming, meet us at our camp. If you’re staying, no need to come—we’ll leave when it’s time.”

“Whether we go or not, we’ll see you off. Thank you. Truly, thank you.”

***

Leaving Sunshine Kindergarten, the three dragged their exhausted bodies back toward camp. As they climbed over the ruins, the fog swallowed the kindergarten. The old man hurried to catch up with Gu Mengran, grabbing his arm. “Kid, where’s your car?”

The road was littered with abandoned vehicles. Gu Mengran gestured casually and grinned. “Take your pick—whatever you like. No need to be polite.”

“I’m serious! Stop fooling around.” The old man glared. “What’s the plan? We’re talking about five- and six-year-olds! How do we take care of them? Put them in your space?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Liang Zhao cut in, rejecting the idea outright. “Grandpa Meng, the greenhouse is gone. The flowers have to face the storm. Mengran can’t protect them forever—they’ll have to adapt.”

Gu Mengran nodded, his expression serious. “Exactly. And the space must remain a secret, unless it’s an emergency.”

Thick fog, incoming floods—soon, neither cars nor boats would work. Putting the kids in the space seemed logical. But it was their final trump card, their family’s key to survival. The more who knew, the greater the risk. Gu Mengran couldn’t take that chance.

“Tsk! This won’t work, that won’t work—so what’s your grand solution?” The old man scratched his head in frustration. “You two talk in riddles. What if they show up this afternoon? We’re walking with a dozen people?”

“Grandpa, relax. I’m working on it,” Gu Mengran replied.

The old man froze. “Working on it?!”

“Yeah.”

“You brat! I thought you had it figured out! What are we supposed to do?”

There was no blame, no hesitation—just a quiet certainty that they would take the children with them. Gu Mengran liked that. Liked how, without needing to say it, everyone in his family was on the same page.

As for the solution… they didn’t need one yet. Gu Mengran vaguely remembered—the fog and extreme heat never lasted together. As the temperature soared, the fog would lift. But that wasn’t good. Without the mist, they’d face the scorching sun—a summer hotter than any before.

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