Axolotl Translations

“I didn’t!”

The moment Ruan Zhao’s words landed, Gu Xingyan immediately denied it. He spoke so rapidly, it almost sounded rushed. His gaze flickered, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of red—spreading upward as if it might engulf his entire face. He repeated himself, this time with more emphasis, as if trying to convince not only Ruan Zhao but also himself. “I didn’t.”

Ruan Zhao had only been joking, but Gu Xingyan’s vehement reaction amplified his suspicions. So, he deliberately leaned in closer, his light-colored eyes locked onto Gu Xingyan’s, searching for the slightest hint of guilt.

Initially, Gu Xingyan barely managed to maintain his composure, meeting Ruan Zhao’s gaze with a semblance of calm. But then, as he caught his own reflection in the boy’s clear pupils, something flickered across his expression—his breath hitched for a fraction of a second, and in a moment of panic, he averted his gaze.

To Ruan Zhao, that was the textbook reaction of someone with a guilty conscience. He let out a cold chuckle. Just as he suspected. Under his righteous, unwavering stare, a guilty Gu Xingyan was bound to crack.

Ruan Zhao made a logical deduction: Gu Xingyan must despise him—so much that he couldn’t bear his presence. But since he couldn’t directly retaliate, he must have vented his frustration on his clothes. For all he knew, his clothes had been shredded to pieces. Or worse, burned to ashes.

Ruan Zhao returned to his original position, pretending to believe Gu Xingyan’s excuse.

“Since you say you didn’t, I’ll take your word for it… for now. Anyway, I’ve got nothing better to do, so I might as well go with you to pick them up.” As he spoke, Ruan Zhao deliberately observed Gu Xingyan’s reaction.

When he noticed the slight flicker of hesitation in the boy’s expression, he batted his lashes innocently before asking, seemingly offhandedly:“My clothes are still intact, right?”

Gu Xingyan: “…I washed them and put them away.”

Ruan Zhao’s lips curled slightly. “How considerate of you.” Let’s hope you’re telling the truth. He pulled out his phone and called his driver, telling him not to wait.

Gu Xingyan opened his mouth, as if wanting to object, but ultimately, he couldn’t formulate a valid excuse. And so, he had no choice but to let Ruan Zhao follow him home.

The two walked in silence for the majority of the journey. Ruan Zhao ensured he maintained a consistent two- or three-meter distance between them. Even when Gu Xingyan deliberately slowed his pace, Ruan Zhao acted oblivious—matching his reduced speed.

He wasn’t about to walk side by side with him. He wasn’t about to let their paths intersect. As far as Ruan Zhao was concerned, everything was proceeding as planned. All he had to do now was await Gu Xingyan’s reclamation of his identity and subsequent revenge. Until then, there was no need for further interaction. No need to unnecessarily irritate him.

The alley was eerily silent, the only sound lingering in the air was the soft rhythm of their footsteps—one trailing just a few steps behind the other.

Ruan Zhao stepped onto a faded white line on the ground, then carefully placed his other foot onto another, childishly playing a game where stepping on a white line meant “instant death.” Technically, this wasn’t a real alley—it was more like an abandoned road. Every now and then, a vehicle would pass through.

A sharp, blaring horn suddenly sounded from behind. Ruan Zhao instinctively moved to the side, making room for the car to pass. But the honking didn’t cease. It blasted repeatedly, as if the driver was determined to wear out the horn completely. The noise made Ruan Zhao’s ears ache. Annoyed, he turned around.

A white car had just turned onto the road from another street. It was still about eighty to a hundred meters away. He shifted further toward the edge of the road and stopped walking, intending to let the car pass first. But the car kept approaching.

Eighty meters. Fifty meters. Thirty meters…

It wasn’t slowing down. Instead, it was charging straight toward them.

Ruan Zhao’s pupils contracted sharply. A frantic voice echoed in his mind. [Move! Now!!!]

Before he could react, someone grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side. The white car sped over the spot where he had just been standing. Then, it abruptly swerved, turning its headlights toward them once again.

This wasn’t an accident. The car wasn’t out of control. It wasn’t a brake failure. It was targeting them. It wouldn’t stop until it hit them.

Gu Xingyan realized it too. Without hesitation, he grabbed Ruan Zhao’s wrist and ran. The road stretched endlessly ahead, flanked on both sides by towering gray walls covered in damp, mossy patches.

There was nowhere to hide. Not in the short time they had. Ruan Zhao glanced over his shoulder and saw the car speeding toward them. “He’s insane! Why is he chasing us?!”

No one could answer him. Gu Xingyan tightened his grip on Ruan Zhao’s wrist, pulling him along as they narrowly dodged another collision. This time, the white car slammed into the side of a wall. The hood crumpled inward, leaving a dent the size of a basketball. Black smoke billowed from the engine. Yet even in that state, the driver refused to stop. With a sharp turn of the wheel, he veered toward them again.

……

Through the windshield, Gu Xingyan finally caught a glimpse of the driver’s face.

Unfamiliar. Ordinary. A complete stranger.

Blood streamed down from a wound on the man’s forehead, smearing across his entire face until his features were barely visible. But his eyes—bloodshot and seething—stayed locked onto Gu Xingyan, filled with hatred and despair, as if he wanted to drag them both to hell with him.

A sudden thought struck Gu Xingyan. His fingers loosened around Ruan Zhao’s wrist. In a low voice, he said, “We split up.”

Ruan Zhao didn’t have time to think. Instinct told him this was their best option. At the very least, one of them might make it out alive.

The system’s voice echoed in his mind: [Zhaozhao, listen to him. Run.]

[That car is after Gu Xingyan. If you stay with him, you’ll only get caught up in this.]

Ruan Zhao: […What about Gu Xingyan?]

System: [He has protagonist’s plot armor. He won’t die.] The system sounded absolutely certain.

Amid the chaos, Ruan Zhao could only follow its advice. Besides, if he stayed by Gu Xingyan’s side, he’d just be another burden. Not only could he do nothing to help, but he’d also slow him down.

Ruan Zhao had barely run ten meters when a deafening crash exploded behind him. For a second, he couldn’t even turn around. He was too afraid. Too afraid to see Gu Xingyan crushed and covered in blood. His body locked in place. His fingers trembled.

The entire world seemed to twist and shatter into a spinning, fragmented mess—

The screeching marks left by the car. The bright red streak of blood smeared across the pavement. The harsh, blinding glare of the midday sun. The crosswalk he had spent so long crawling toward…

A flood of thoughts surged through his mind all at once.

Or maybe—nothing at all.

His brain went blank.

Only after what felt like an eternity did he take a deep breath.

“Ruan Zhao.” Someone called his name. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” A figure rushed up to him, scanning him anxiously from head to toe. Only after confirming he was completely unharmed did he finally breathe out in relief.

But in the next second, his chest tightened all over again. Ruan Zhao didn’t look right. His face was as pale as paper, drained of all color. Beads of cold sweat clung to his forehead, dampening the strands of hair against his temple. His pupils still held traces of panic and fear as he stared blankly ahead.

“…Ruan Zhao?” Gu Xingyan lowered his voice, afraid to startle him. He reached out and waved a hand lightly in front of his eyes.

Slowly, Ruan Zhao’s gaze refocused. Then—he grabbed Gu Xingyan’s fingers. And the next moment, as if unable to restrain himself, he bent over and dry-heaved.

The scene from earlier had triggered memories of his past car accident. The shadow of death was far heavier than he’d imagined. His body reacted instinctively, beyond his control.

……

The white car had slammed on the gas, determined to hit Gu Xingyan. But at the very last second, he dodged. The driver couldn’t turn in time—and crashed straight into the wall. This impact was far worse than the last. The entire front half of the car was crushed inward. It was impossible to tell if the driver was still alive.

Gu Xingyan called the police. They arrived quickly, setting up barricades. Then, they took statements from both of them.

It was past midnight by the time Ruan Zhao finally got home. He lay on his bed, but the moment he closed his eyes—nightmares. Over and over again, he saw that car—chasing Gu Xingyan down.

The only person who could have orchestrated something like this—was that fake heir of the Xiang family. Xiang Zhijian. Afraid that Gu Xingyan’s existence would eventually be exposed—that the truth would threaten his place in the family—he decided to strike first. To eliminate him before it was too late.

This time, Gu Xingyan had managed to escape. But what about next time? Or the time after that? Maybe, as the system said, Gu Xingyan had a protagonist’s plot armor. He wouldn’t die. But he could still be hurt.

Ruan Zhao sat up. [System, how much longer until the Xiang family realizes Gu Xingyan is their real son?]

The system flipped through the unlocked storyline, responding matter-of-factly: [About a week. Xiang Zhijian’s involvement in hiring a hitman will be exposed, and the Xiang family will investigate. That’s when they’ll notice how much Gu Xingyan resembles Madam Xiang—and get a DNA test done.]

[That’s too long.] Just thinking about that lunatic, Xiang Zhijian—and the fact that he might try to kill Gu Xingyan again—Ruan Zhao couldn’t afford to wait. Not even for a day.

[We’re helping him.]

[…How?] the system hesitated.

Ruan Zhao wanted to skip all the middle steps—and jump straight to the final conclusion. [Fake a DNA test. Send it to the Xiang family.]

[Make sure to send it to every single one of them—except Xiang Zhijian.]

Couldn’t risk pushing him into a corner.

The system hesitated. [Zhaozhao, will this really work?]

[The only difficult part is getting the Xiang family’s contact information.]

But for the system, that was the easiest part. No artificial intelligence in this world could match its hacking skills.

[When you send the DNA test, don’t forget to attach a photo of Gu Xingyan.]

It had to be convincing. Otherwise, the Xiang family might dismiss it as a hoax.

The system wavered. [But… the Employee Handbook has a rule… We’re not supposed to interfere with the storyline.]

[How is this interference? At most, we’re just giving the plot a little push. Besides, isn’t our job as background characters to advance the story?]

Ruan Zhao’s twisted logic successfully threw the system into confusion.

It worked quickly, forging a DNA test report—attaching a photo of Gu Xingyan—and sending it to the Xiang family.

The responses varied—but every single one was filled with doubt and questions. Some even cursed him out. One message was just a string of expletives, telling him to go to hell for spreading lies.

Ruan Zhao didn’t reply to a single message. Instead, he logged out of the system-generated account and deleted it.

Scrolling through his phone, he saw a flood of messages from Gu Xingyan. All of them were filled with concern. Asking if he was okay. If he was feeling any better. Telling him not to be afraid, that if he felt unwell, he shouldn’t force himself—he should talk to his family.

[The police said the driver wasn’t drunk and didn’t have any sudden medical condition. Most likely, it was just a random act of social revenge.]

[It was a one-in-a-million event. It won’t happen again.]

……

[I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to walk home with me.] Gu Xingyan blamed himself. Felt guilty. Like it was his fault Ruan Zhao had been put in danger.

At the bottom were three missed voice calls. And a few voice messages.

[Are you asleep?]

No response. But Gu Xingyan kept sending messages anyway.

[Goodnight, then.]

[Sweet dreams.]

[See you tomorrow.]

……

Ruan Zhao lowered his head. His long lashes cast a half-moon shadow beneath his eyes, concealing the emotions swirling within them.

After a moment of hesitation, he typed back—

[Goodnight.]

Gu Xingyan, your nightmare is over. No more working until 3 AM just to pay off debts. No more forcing yourself to eat those rock-hard biscuits just to fill your stomach. No more enduring my orders, my teasing, my cruelty. Your future will be different now.

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