Axolotl Translations

After some much-needed sleep, Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao were up by 10 a.m. They grabbed a quick breakfast, slung their backpacks over their shoulders, and headed out.

Unlike the wilderness, the city made them uneasy, and Gu Mengran hated leaving his grandfather alone. But the heat was brutal. The old man, dark circles under his eyes, looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and run a marathon. He was exhausted.

Gu Mengran couldn’t drag him along. He insisted his grandfather stay and rest, leaving him a chainsaw, pepper spray, and one of their precious neck fans.

A gentle breeze brushed their necks, offering minimal relief. In the suffocating heatwave, it barely made a difference.

It was unbearably hot. Their T-shirts were soaked with sweat by the time they reached the main road.

They needed transportation. The whole point was finding a vehicle—with AC, space for at least fifteen, comfortable seats, and ideally, room to sleep. Basically, a full-sized bus.

But buses weren’t common. They passed regular public buses, but no large coaches. The heat made Gu Mengran briefly consider a city bus—until he pictured those stiff, unforgiving seats, and his backside protested.

The city had become unrecognizable. With buildings collapsing on a massive scale, even locals found themselves disoriented. Outsiders were guaranteed to get lost.

Gu Mengran considered searching for a bus station but, worried about his grandfather, decided against venturing too far. They stuck to the main road, avoiding side streets, moving slowly.

Their patience paid off. Nearly two hours later, exhausted, they found what they sought.

Near a collapsed overpass, a perfectly intact mid-sized tour bus sat—blue and white, designed for thirty-five passengers. Parked haphazardly, doors wide open, it was clear the driver had fled in panic.

They checked the exterior, then, flashlights in hand, stepped inside. A vehicle’s condition couldn’t be judged by looks alone—the real question was whether it could still start.

Thick fog clung to the air inside. They moved carefully through the dim interior toward the driver’s seat. Liang Zhao slid in and tried the engine.

Gu Mengran, knowing nothing about buses, explored the cabin, checking for any hidden dangers.

The bus was cramped. Thirty-five seats made the aisle feel tight. Gu Mengran swept his flashlight—many seats held personal belongings. Luggage racks overflowed with suitcases, backpacks, woven bags. It was as if the passengers had fled, leaving everything behind.

Standing amidst the abandoned belongings, Gu Mengran wondered—were the passengers alive? With supplies so low, why hadn’t they returned?

Bang!

His foot hit something hard. He snapped his flashlight down, expecting to find someone’s misplaced luggage.

But that single glance nearly made him vomit.

A man’s corpse sprawled across the aisle, legs twisted, wedged between seats. His body was contorted grotesquely. His light blue shirt was stained with messy footprints—he’d been trampled to death. His exposed skin was wounded, his head and face mangled beyond recognition.

The scorching heat had accelerated the decay. His swollen belly was taut, his flesh liquefying, oozing a putrid fluid. Maggots writhed beneath the damaged skin.

For a moment, it felt like his protective mask had vanished—no barrier could block out the overwhelming stench of rot that flooded his senses. His stomach lurched violently, his legs nearly gave way.

“What’s wrong?” Liang Zhao had just managed to start the bus when he heard an odd noise from the back. He frowned, turning in the direction of the sound.

Before he could move, Gu Mengran stumbled toward him, his face pale as death. He grabbed Liang Zhao’s arm in a frantic grip, nearly stumbling as he dragged him toward the door.

Gu Mengran sprinted nearly a hundred meters before stopping. Only when the bus vanished into the mist did he rip off his mask and crouch by the road, dry heaving.

“Ugh—ugh… cough, cough…”

The sheer horror of what he had just seen clung to him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His face was deathly pale, his hands trembling against the pavement.

Liang Zhao moved without thinking. He knelt beside him, pulling a water bottle from his bag and pressing it into his shaking hands.

Gu Mengran took it but didn’t drink. He couldn’t. The taste of rot still lingered in his throat, in the back of his mouth, in the very marrow of his bones.

Liang Zhao removed his own mask, crouched beside him, and draped an arm over his shoulder, patting his back. “It’s okay. It’s over now.”

No need to ask what happened—the stench said it all.

The smell remained. Persistent. Overpowering. It clung to him like something alive, as if death itself had reached out and wrapped its fingers around his spine.

Something wasn’t right.

A chill ran through him. He stiffened, looking at his shoes. What was once dirt was now slick with a sickly sheen. His sneakers were coated in pale yellow, translucent slime.

For a heartbeat, his mind blanked. Then, a fresh wave of nausea surged through him.

Without hesitation, he pulled out fresh shoes and, with Liang Zhao’s help, changed on the spot. He flung the soiled ones as far as he could.

He’d lived two lives, and had seen death before. More times than he cared to count. But no matter how many times he saw a decomposed body, it would always be disturbing.

Gu Mengran gulped down most of the water, then rinsed his hands and face. The heat loosened its grip, and the faint breeze from his neck fan brought a sliver of relief. He felt alive again.

His face was still pale, exhaustion etched in every line. But he straightened, waved at Liang Zhao, and pulled his mask back on. “Let’s go. That bus is useless—we need another.”

He turned to leave, but a firm grip closed around his wrist. He met Liang Zhao’s gaze, heavy with worry.

They stared at each other. Finally, Liang Zhao looked away. “We’ve been out too long. Grandpa Meng is alone—it’s not safe. Go back and check on him. I’ll find a vehicle.”

He really hasn’t changed. Liang Zhao had probably guessed what he saw. He was worried, but like before, wouldn’t show it. Instead of “Are you okay?” he chose a roundabout way to keep him safe.

But Gu Mengran wasn’t the same person he used to be. He chuckled. “Alright. I am pretty tired, anyway. But if you do find a vehicle, how exactly are you bringing it back? Carry it on your shoulders? Or are you planning to drive through that fog?”

Liang Zhao considered it. “I’ll memorize the location and come back.”

“In this heat? Running back and forth isn’t exhausting?”

“No.”

“…Alright. I’ll head back. See ya!” Gu Mengran waved and walked away.

Footsteps echoed behind him. Gu Mengran turned—Liang Zhao followed closely. He chuckled. “What’s this? Already regretting your decision?”

“No.” Liang Zhao’s gaze was steady. “I’ll walk you back.”

A wave of heat rolled over them, thick and sticky. It clung to their skin, heavy and suffocating. Something in Gu Mengran’s chest trembled, just slightly. He swallowed down the urge to tease and instead turned in another direction.

“Just kidding. I’m not going back. I can walk, run—I can help find a vehicle, and I can stand by you, no matter what. Liang Zhao…”

I’m not a burden anymore.

***

By 4:30 p.m., Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao returned to camp.

Meng Gaoyang had been waiting anxiously. They had barely stepped into the tent—hadn’t even set down their backpacks—when Grandpa Meng rushed in, his voice urgent and full of excitement. “Teacher Wei was here! They’ve decided—we’re leaving together!”

With those words, all of today’s efforts felt worthwhile.

After a quick shower and meal, Gu Mengran packed the sleeping bags and tents. Then, with Grandpa Meng and Liang Zhao, they headed toward the city outskirts.

The vehicles were ready—a bus, an SUV, and a mountain bike.

With debris blocking the roads, driving out was impossible. And since Gu Mengran couldn’t materialize vehicles out of thin air in front of everyone, he’d stashed them on an open road outside the city beforehand.

After trekking over rough terrain, they trudged another half hour before reaching the open highway.

With no one around, Gu Mengran placed the SUV and bus on the roadside. If questioned, they’d say they’d driven around the blockages.

They didn’t leave right away. First, they filled both vehicles with fuel. Then, Gu Mengran took out two portable power stations and two air purifiers from his space, handing them over to Grandpa Meng and Liang Zhao to install inside the vehicles.

Next came the essentials—an induction cooker, an electric kettle, pots, pans, dishes, rice, flour, oil…

Everything went straight into the trunk.

On the road, ready-to-eat meals were the main staple, but since they’d be traveling with kids, they needed to have some real food now and then. And at the very least, they’d need access to hot water.

With the heat, food spoiled quickly. Gu Mengran took out a small amount of instant meals and milk—just enough to seem reasonable. No one would check their trunk, so knowing they had some supplies was enough. As for how much they actually had? More than enough.

Then, there was water. Gu Mengran took out five cases of mineral water and two of orange juice. Once they finished the drinks, they could simply wash the bottles and refill them with spring water from his space.

And snacks were a must. Not knowing what children liked, Gu Mengran let Grandpa Meng choose. They packed nuts, candies, dried fruit, seaweed… two full boxes of goodies.

The trunk was nearly full, but Gu Mengran felt something missing. As his gaze swept over the bright, golden-orange juice, a thought struck him—fruit! He still had plenty of fruit stored in his space!

Apples, pears, pomelos, melons… He chose long-lasting fruit and put it in the vehicle. With AC, it should stay fresh.

He hadn’t originally planned for kids to be part of the journey, which meant there were no children’s clothes among their supplies. In this summer heat, they’d need fresh clothes to change into. After a brief moment of thought, Gu Mengran pulled out a box of adult-sized T-shirts.

Worst case? They could wear them as dresses. And if that didn’t work, they could always use them as blankets when the AC was on.

With food, clothes, and essentials packed, Gu Mengran stepped off the bus, satisfied. “Grandpa, watch the vehicles!” he called. Then, to Liang Zhao, “Let’s go—time to get the kids.”

---

Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter