Axolotl Translations

The right rear tire was completely blown, flattened like a deflated balloon clinging to the rim.

They had all the tools for repairs, sure—but with the outer tire shredded and debris scattered everywhere, fixing it was impossible. Their only option was a spare.

Which brought them to the real problem: where the hell were they going to find one?

Standing under the oppressive heat, staring at the mangled remains of the tire, Gu Mengran felt a headache brewing. He rubbed his temples, pacing back and forth, frustration simmering with no outlet. Finally, he just let out a long sigh.

“Ugh… what a mess.”

Liang Zhao put the jack back in the trunk, lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, then pulled out a set of snow chains and strode toward the side of the bus.

Even after just a few minutes in the open, the exposed skin on Gu Mengran’s arms had turned red from the heat. His damp T-shirt, barely dry from earlier, was already soaked through again, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Liang Zhao approached quickly. Before even setting down the snow chains, he pulled a pack of tissues from his work pants and handed them to Gu Mengran. “No need to panic. The bus can still move. Go back inside and cool off—I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of it? How?” Gu Mengran took the tissues, wiping his face. He glanced at the snow chains in Liang Zhao’s hands and froze, then blurted out, “Wait… you’re going to put snow chains on the wheel?”

Liang Zhao chuckled and nodded. “We got lucky—the bus has six wheels, and the blown one was the middle balance wheel. It won’t affect the driving much.”

Knowing Gu Mengran’s relentless curiosity, Liang Zhao explained as he laid the snow chains out on the ground. “It’s impossible for it to have no effect at all. The tire is completely flat, and we can’t inflate it, so—”

“So we just slap on some snow chains to keep the wheel stable and drive as far as we can, since it’s not even our bus? If it gets wrecked, oh well, no big deal?” Gu Mengran thought he’d figured it out, the tension in his brows easing, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Liang Zhao chuckled softly, untangling the chains before crouching to spread them properly beneath the wheel. “Congratulations, you guessed right. Your reward? Getting back on the bus to enjoy the AC.”

But in this sweltering heat, there was no way Gu Mengran would leave him to do this alone. He quickly crouched down to help.

Installing the chains was a pain. First, they laid them flat in front of the wheel. Then, Liang Zhao got into the driver’s seat and slowly eased the bus forward until the chains wrapped fully around the tire. Only after fastening the ends together was the job finally finished.

Ten grueling minutes later, Gu Mengran stood up, drenched in sweat.

As the bus doors slowly opened, he let out a breath of hot air, ready to dive back into the blissful embrace of air conditioning. But the moment he lifted his foot to step forward—he couldn’t move.

It felt like something was gripping his ankle, holding him rooted to the spot. His leg wouldn’t budge, but his upper body lurched forward, nearly sending him sprawling.

Stumbling to regain his balance, he glanced down—his pupils shrinking in shock.

Something was holding him down.

Not his ankle—his shoe.

The ground was so scorching hot that the soles had melted and fused to the asphalt.

It wasn’t that his shoes were glued to the ground, but when Gu Mengran tried to lift his foot with force, he found the soles—of his barely-week-old sneakers—were peeling into thin, sticky strands.

No wonder the bus had a blowout. This pavement was hot enough to fry an egg.

He stumbled back onto the bus, collapsing into a seat like a rag doll. But before he could catch his breath, he saw Liang Zhao releasing the handbrake, ready to drive off.

“Wait, wait—hold on, Liang Zhao! Come here for a sec.”

“What’s up?” Liang Zhao responded instantly, sitting beside him before the words had even fully left his mouth.

“Shancheng—” The moment he spoke, Gu Mengran was seized by a coughing fit so violent it felt like his lungs were tearing. He clutched his chest, hacking uncontrollably.

Without hesitation, Liang Zhao grabbed a water bottle from the luggage rack, twisted off the cap, and gently patted his back. Only when the coughing subsided did he hand him the bottle.

“You wanted to ask how much longer until we reach Shancheng?” Liang Zhao leaned back.

Gu Mengran nodded vigorously, taking small sips of water.

“About seventy or eighty kilometers,” Liang Zhao estimated. “At our current speed, at least three more hours. Jincheng is a bit closer—we could get there in about an hour.”

Gu Mengran shook his head. “No, we’re going to Shancheng. Three hours is three hours. That’s where we’re headed.”

“Why Shancheng?” Liang Zhao asked, unusually curious.

Gu Mengran’s breathing gradually evened out. Seeing Liang Zhao’s puzzled look, he couldn’t resist teasing, “Clearly, you don’t get out much. Shancheng’s mostly mountains and hills, and its unique geography and city planning made it a viral sensation online. People called it a ‘3D magical city.’ It suffered the same massive earthquake as everywhere else. Any city without natural defenses was completely wrecked, no exceptions. But since Shancheng’s built into the mountains, I think it might have fared better than other places.”

“You’re right, and Shancheng also has the highest number of air-raid shelters in the country. It should be a great place to escape the heat.”

A voice suddenly chimed in from behind.

Startled, Gu Mengran turned around—only to find a small crowd had gathered. His grandfather, Wei Qianlan, Zhou Qin… pretty much every adult on the bus had come over, all ears perked, listening intently.

Perfect timing. He hadn’t planned on keeping it a secret anyway.

Turning to Wei Qianlan and Zhou Qin, he asked softly for their thoughts. “The bus won’t last much longer—we can’t keep going indefinitely. We need to stop, find another vehicle, restock supplies, and let the kids get a proper break. Personally, I think Shancheng is our best bet. What do you guys think?”

“I think it’s a solid plan,” Wei Qianlan agreed without hesitation. “I traveled to Shancheng once, and Gu Mengran is right—there are plenty of underground shelters. If we can find one, it would be a great place to stay cool.”

Zhou Qin wasn’t very familiar with Shancheng but nodded in agreement. “I’m fine with whatever you all decide. You’ve been pushing through this heat for days, and the kids have been stuck on the bus just as long. We need to find a place to rest.”

With everyone in agreement, Gu Mengran clapped his hands together. “Alright, settled—Shancheng it is!”

***

Three and a half hours later, after losing another tire—this time a front wheel—the bus finally limped into Shancheng, swaying and jolting over the shattered roads.

A thick yellow haze hung over the city, casting an eerie gloom. The once-thriving metropolis was unrecognizable—skyscrapers had crumbled into ruins, and the air reeked of death and decay.

Clearly, Shancheng hadn’t lived up to Gu Mengran’s expectations. They hadn’t even ventured deep into the city yet, but all he could see were collapsed buildings, with only a few structures still standing amidst the wreckage.

But they were here. The bus was on its last legs, and there was no turning back. Their only hope lay in finding an underground shelter.

Less than five minutes after entering the city, they were forced to stop.

The road ahead was blocked. As they drove deeper, the streets became increasingly choked with debris, and abandoned vehicles littered the path, making it impossible for their bus to continue.

If they had a clear destination, trekking through the ruins in this heat might be manageable. But wandering aimlessly through the wreckage with a group of children, searching for a shelter…

That was out of the question.

Gu Mengran exhaled sharply and pressed a hand to his forehead.

As the bus rolled to a final stop, Liang Zhao unbuckled his seatbelt and walked over.

Before Liang Zhao could reach him, Gu Mengran stood up and said, his expression serious, “Liang Zhao, I’ve got a task for you. Stay on the bus and look after the teachers and kids. Grandpa and I will go out and look for a place to rest.”

He emphasized “look after,” and Liang Zhao understood immediately. But understanding was one thing—agreeing was another. Without even thinking, he rejected it outright. “No way.”

Their conversation wasn’t exactly quiet, and the others in the bus heard every word—and understood the implication just as well.

The moment Liang Zhao refused, Wei Qianlan’s voice rang out from the back. “Gu Mengran, you don’t need to leave someone behind to watch over us. Zhou Qin and I can take care of the kids just fine. It’s better if you both go—this isn’t familiar ground, and safety comes in numbers.”

“She’s right,” Zhou Qin nodded firmly. “Take some weapons, just in case, and be careful. We’ll stay here on the bus. Once you find a good place, come back for us.”

The two teachers sounded calm and confident, but Gu Mengran’s brows remained furrowed.

A bunch of kids, two women—who could really feel at ease leaving them here?

Liang Zhao seemed to share the same concern. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Let Grandpa stay on the bus and leave the chainsaw in the trunk for them. You and I will head out, but we won’t go far. We’ll scout the immediate area.”

Stepping outside meant walking into an oven. Leaving Grandpa in the shade was probably the best option. He might be old, but he was tough—and with a weapon for defense, he was as capable as any young man.

Not giving the old man a chance to object, Gu Mengran nodded. “Alright, that works.”

Gu Mengran retrieved the chainsaw from the trunk and handed it to the three remaining on the bus, adding a few final precautions before they set off. Then, he and Liang Zhao pulled out their backpacks, packed some food and water, grabbed their weapons, and put on their masks before stepping out.

The city, shrouded in yellow haze, was eerily silent. The ruins, steeped in the scent of death, were utterly still. The relentless heat bore down, waves of scorching air rolling through the lifeless streets. Even the rats and cockroaches—creatures that thrived in the world’s cracks—had vanished.

Their primary goal was to find an air-raid shelter, but rummaging through the rubble with their bare hands wasn’t feasible. After a quick discussion, they focused on the few buildings still standing amidst the ruins.

Amidst the sea of collapsed structures, the intact buildings stood out like lone sentinels. They didn’t need to search hard—a single glance was enough to spot them. Even so, trudging through the broken bricks and shattered glass under the oppressive heat took them nearly ten minutes to reach a building that looked barely stable enough to enter.

Once a bustling commercial plaza, the area was now buried beneath mountains of debris. The shopping mall at its center had been reduced to a skeletal wreck—its main structure had collapsed by more than half, the remaining framework looking like a precariously stacked pile of broken blocks, threatening to crumble at any moment.

Fortunately, the mall had multiple entrances. Even though the main entrance was blocked by debris, the side doors were still accessible.

With cautious optimism, Gu Mengran approached, ready to venture inside with Liang Zhao. If they couldn’t find an air-raid shelter, even a basement or underground parking lot would be a good alternative.

It was the peak of summer, and a tattered wind curtain still hung over the mall’s entrance. Gu Mengran lifted it and was about to step inside when—

A sickening stench hit him full force.

The overwhelming odor seeped through his mask, carrying the unmistakable reek of decay from deep within the mall.

It was an indescribable stench—like a mountain of corpses slowly rotting under the scorching heat, the decay mingled with bodily fluids and festering flesh. The putrid odor surged straight into their brains, making them dizzy with nausea.

Before his mind could fully register it, Gu Mengran’s body had already reacted. He yanked the wind curtain back down and grabbed Liang Zhao, pulling him away in quick, stumbling steps. They retreated nearly ten meters from the mall entrance before Gu Mengran finally tore off his mask, gulping in the relatively fresh air.

“No way, no way. That building’s a death trap. I swear it’s going to collapse again. Let’s find somewhere else.”

His expression was twisted in pure disgust, his small face scrunched up tight.

Liang Zhao didn’t argue. Instead, he simply hummed in acknowledgment and handed him a new mask. “Yours is dirty. Change it.”

They pressed forward, stepping over broken stones and shattered debris. Forty minutes later, they stopped in front of a high-end residential complex—one they would’ve never dared enter before.

The low-rise buildings had collapsed into heaps of rubble, and the high-rises hadn’t fared much better. But something about the way these structures had fallen stood out—the entire complex had caved inward, as if sliced in half at the waist. Meanwhile, the row of street-facing shopfronts at the base had miraculously survived.

They began searching the shops one by one, hoping to find an underground basement or a parking garage entrance. No luck. After some effort, they finally located a convenience store—only to find it completely looted.

Someone had already been here.

With nightfall approaching, neither of them dared to venture into the residential area recklessly. They decided to keep searching nearby and mark this place as a backup option.

But just as they were crossing the street, ready to move on, Gu Mengran happened to glance back.

The storefronts shrank in the distance, retreating into his peripheral vision—until something caught his eye.

Tucked behind a dense patch of trees, barely visible, was a two-story Western-style house—practically untouched.

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