Axolotl Translations

Chen Feng studied him for a moment. “Weird… why aren’t you surprised? When I heard the news, I nearly jumped out of my skin.”

Ruan Zhao’s expression remained indifferent. He reached over and scooped up another handful of sunflower seeds from Chen Feng’s hand. “What does the Xiang family’s business have to do with me? Why should I be surprised?”

“Hey, stop taking them! Leave some for me!” Chen Feng quickly clenched his fist, successfully guarding the last few seeds.

Ruan Zhao scoffed. “Stingy.”

His eyes flickered slightly. Even though he claimed not to care, he still couldn’t help but ask, “Did Xiang Chen tell you all this?”

Chen Feng nodded smugly. “Yep. Straight from the horse’s mouth. No one outside the Xiang family knows about this yet.”

“What else did he say?”

“Said Xiang Zhijian flipped out and stabbed the real young master. Blood was everywhere—it was a gruesome mess. Scared the crap out of everyone. Now he’s been taken in by the police, criminal charges and everything. Pretty much guaranteed he’s spending the rest of his life in prison.”

The sunflower seeds in Ruan Zhao’s hand slipped through his fingers, scattering across the floor.

Chen Feng blinked. “…Huh?”

Squatting down, he started picking up the fallen seeds one by one, muttering, “Seriously, if you’re not gonna eat them, at least don’t waste them. What was that about?”

Ruan Zhao sat there, completely frozen. His mind went blank, like everything had short-circuited. It took him a long time before he finally heard his own dry, hoarse voice.

“…And Gu—” He abruptly corrected himself. “I mean, the real young master. How is he now?”

Chen Feng shrugged casually. “Probably still in the hospital. I didn’t get the full details. Xiang Chen’s just a distant relative—he doesn’t know much either…”

Chen Feng was mid-sentence when he finally noticed something was off about Ruan Zhao. The boy’s face had turned pale, his pupils slightly trembling, as if he’d just taken a heavy blow.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chen Feng immediately put down his sunflower seeds. Then, it clicked—Ruan Zhao had only started looking like this after hearing about the injured Xiang family heir. His brain had never worked this fast before, and in a flash, he put two and two together. “Wait… you know the Xiang family’s young master? He’s your friend?”

Ruan Zhao’s gaze was unfocused, hovering near Chen Feng without truly landing on him. After a long moment, he gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

“Wait, hold on—don’t panic yet. Let me ask around, I’ll find out for you.” Chen Feng quickly pulled out his phone and called Xiang Chen.

The moment the call connected, he got straight to the point. “Hey, do you know how that injured heir is doing? The one in the hospital?”

Xiang Chen sounded exasperated. “Dude, seriously? Class is about to start, and you’re calling me for this? You’re way too into gossip.”

“Shut up and just tell me how he is.”

“Not dead.” Xiang Chen replied dryly. “The stab didn’t hit anything vital—just a cut on his arm. Bled a bit, but that’s all. He’s getting discharged today.”

Chen Feng relayed Xiang Chen’s words to Ruan Zhao word for word. “See? Just a surface wound. Nothing serious.” He patted Ruan Zhao’s shoulder awkwardly, trying to comfort him. “Don’t worry about it. He and Xiang Zhijian are about the same age, right? High schoolers heal fast—he’ll be fine in no time.”

Just then, the class bell rang. The teacher strode in, arms laden with test papers, moving with purpose. Under the teacher’s sharp gaze, Chen Feng had no choice but to retreat, quickly jogging back to his seat.

……

Ruan Zhao kept his head down, unmoving for a long time. He still seemed completely consumed by the news of Gu Xingyan’s injury.

System: [Zhaozhao, don’t be sad. Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault. Nobody could have predicted something like this would happen…]

For the first time, the System hated its clumsy attempts at comforting, feeling utterly useless. It feared he would spiral, so it tried to redirect his emotions toward someone else—the villain.

System: [It’s all Xiang Zhijian’s fault. He’s too cruel. He’s the worst villain in this world, absolutely the worst. Even if we hadn’t interfered with the storyline, he still would’ve hurt Gu Xingyan, still would’ve gone against him… But don’t worry, he’s in jail now. He won’t be getting any more screen time in this story.]

Still, Ruan Zhao didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound.

The System materialized into its small physical form, fluttering its tiny wings as it circled Ruan Zhao. It flew in front of him, then to his side, darting back and forth. It knew its host liked its little cat ears, so it nudged its soft, round head against Ruan Zhao’s shoulder several times, hoping to catch his attention.

System: [Zhaozhao, Zhaozhao, talk to me, please?]

System: [Don’t bottle everything up. If you keep it all inside, it’ll only eat away at you. You can tell me anything, okay? I’m your personal emotional trash can. Zhaozhao… Zhaozhao…]

The System called his name over and over, relentlessly. Maybe it was the sheer persistence, but eventually, Ruan Zhao moved. He lifted his head and scooped up the tiny, winged orb into his arms.

Ruan Zhao: [Stop calling my name. It’s annoying.]

He gave the System’s ears a squeeze, then ruffled them twice.

Ruan Zhao: [I’m not upset. And I’m not blaming myself.]

The System glanced at Ruan Zhao’s eyes—still tinged red—but wisely chose to remain silent.

Ruan Zhao: [I was just thinking… Gu Xingyan hasn’t replied to me these past two days. Do you think it’s because of his injury?]

Ruan Zhao: [System, should I go see him?]

System: [But Zhao Zhao, he’s in Beijing right now. That’s over a thousand kilometers away. Even a flight would take two hours.]

Ruan Zhao blinked, only now processing that fact.

Ruan Zhao: [Oh… right. Then forget it.]

……

No matter who leaves, life goes on. Ruan Zhao continued his days as usual—going to school, coming home—living his senior year of high school just as he always had. As if nothing had ever happened.

Until today.

The moment he stepped out of the car, he saw a familiar figure standing in the courtyard. The person stood backlit, their face obscured in shadow. But even without a clear view, Ruan Zhao’s heartbeat skipped a beat.

For a few seconds, even his breath hitched. He stood frozen.

The other person, however, walked towards him. The boy before him seemed different, yet unchanged. He wore a plain white t-shirt, light-colored casual pants, and dark sneakers. An ordinary outfit, no different from the Gu Xingyan he remembered.

“Ruan Zhao.”

Gu Xingyan stopped about a meter away. His voice was soft. “I was planning to see you at school tomorrow, but… I couldn’t wait.”

Ruan Zhao: “…”

“My phone broke. It won’t turn on. I even took it to a repair shop, but they couldn’t fix it.”

……

Even though Gu Xingyan had entered the adult world early, his composure far surpassing that of his peers, he was still stunned upon learning the truth of his origins. An elegant woman had held him tightly as she sobbed, apologizing over and over. The composed, dignified man beside her had red-rimmed eyes, quietly wiping away tears.

It was like something straight out of a melodramatic soap opera.

He had read every single word on the paternity test. The results stated that the probability of a biological father-son relationship was 99.99%. For the sake of scientific accuracy, medical reports rarely give a full 100%. But there was no room for doubt.

The life he had planned out for himself had suddenly taken a sharp turn… yet he didn’t feel anything. No shock. No joy. Just absurdity. Like he was living a dream.

No one expected Xiang Zhijian to attack him then. Watching the Xiang family swarm around Gu Xingyan—crying one moment, laughing the next—not a single person looked at him. No one noticed him. No one cared.

Maybe it struck a nerve. Maybe Gu Xingyan’s presence made him feel like everything that should have been his was being stolen away. That flash of hatred and fear—so sudden, so overwhelming—shattered the last of his reason. Or maybe he had never been that rational to begin with.

He had fully inherited his parents’ temperament—their impulsiveness, their volatility. The smallest provocation could send them into a frenzy.

Xiang Zhijian thought that if Gu Xingyan disappeared, everything would return to how it was. The power, the wealth, the status, the love of his parents—it would all be his again. Their real son was gone. So what? They had spent over a decade together, building bonds that ran deeper than blood. They were a family. A real one.

Gu Xingyan could have dodged the attack entirely. But he didn’t. The sharp blade cut a long gash across his arm.

In that moment, he remembered the car accident from before. There was no doubt. That, too, had been Xiang Zhijian’s doing. There was no one else in this world who hated him this much. No one else so desperate to take his life.

A sharp scream pierced the air. It all happened in a flash—too fast for anyone to stop it.

Just as Xiang Zhijian was about to strike again, Father Xiang kicked his arm, sending the dagger flying across the floor. Security guards swarmed in from all directions, pinning down Xiang Zhijian, who was still struggling to break free.

Gu Xingyan lowered his lashes, watching as Xiang Zhijian thrashed and writhed on the ground. Beads of blood seeped through his fingers, dripping onto the floor and pooling into a small, crimson stain. But his face remained expressionless, as if he couldn’t feel the pain—or perhaps, he had long since grown accustomed to it. He knew which wounds were merely superficial.

As if sensing Gu Xingyan’s gaze, Xiang Zhijian’s head snapped up. His eyes burned with hatred and resentment, so intense it seemed he wanted to break free and sink his teeth into him.

Gu Xingyan mouthed a single word: Idiot.

……

If I were you… I could think of a hundred ways to secure my position. Attacking me in broad daylight, right in front of everyone? That would never be one of them. Attempted murder, plus assault with intent to harm. He’s never getting out of prison.

A crowd had gathered around Gu Xingyan, fussing over his injury, crying and asking how he was. It was too noisy. Too irritating.

Then, he suddenly remembered—he hadn’t replied to Ruan Zhao yet. Instinctively, he reached for his jacket pocket. But it was empty. That’s when he realized—his phone had fallen to the ground during the chaos. The screen had shattered completely, leaving behind nothing but a pile of broken glass and circuitry.

His usually indifferent expression finally faltered, just a little.

……

“So I wasn’t ignoring your messages on purpose.”

Ruan Zhao: “Oh.”

Maybe his response sounded a little too indifferent, so he added two more words. “I see.”

After a brief pause, he said again, “I didn’t message you either.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. He had messaged him. Multiple times. He had sent rows and rows of question marks. He had told himself they would go their separate ways from now on, that their paths wouldn’t cross again. But the moment he picked up his phone, he couldn’t stop himself. Like some kind of AI chatbot, he had kept sending messages nonstop. Maybe he was just mad at himself—for not being firm enough.

Ruan Zhao suddenly didn’t feel like talking anymore.

Gu Xingyan hesitated for a second before carefully asking, “Are you mad at me?”

Ruan Zhao shook his head.

“But… I feel like you’re upset,” Gu Xingyan said. By now, he understood Ruan Zhao well enough to pick up on even the tiniest changes in his expression.

After a moment of thought, he guessed, “Is it because I promised to come to school the next day and return your book… but I didn’t? If that’s why, then I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something I couldn’t follow through on. That was my fault.”

Ruan Zhao: “…Why are you apologizing to me?”

Gu Xingyan said, “Because I made you unhappy.”

His voice was low and deep, rich with a slight rasp. Like a feather brushing past Ruan Zhao’s ear—light, fleeting. It sent a shiver through him, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

This… this was too much. How could he just say something like that?

The night air was comfortably cool, yet Ruan Zhao still felt his face heating up. Even his fingertips tingled with an unfamiliar warmth.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined their reunion at all. He had pictured Gu Xingyan showing up with a cold, unreadable expression, spitting out detached, indifferent words. Maybe even turning the tables—ordering him around, making him his errand boy, forcing him to run tasks and do his bidding. Paying him back for all the humiliation he had suffered, tenfold.

But instead… Gu Xingyan was apologizing over something so trivial. Looking at him with such pitiful eyes, as if afraid he wouldn’t forgive him.

This didn’t feel right. Something was off. Everything about this was wrong.

Unable to hold back, Ruan Zhao reminded him, “Our contract ended two days ago. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to listen to me anymore.”

For a split second, Gu Xingyan’s expression flickered. Then, as if taking that statement as a hint, he pulled up a payment QR code and said, “Then lend me two thousand yuan. This time, we can extend the contract for three months. Or even a year.”

Out of habit, Ruan Zhao instinctively scanned the QR code the moment he saw it. It wasn’t until the transfer screen popped up that he realized something was off.

Gu Xingyan had already been recognized by the Xiang family. If anyone wasn’t short on money right now, it was him. So why was he so eager to renew their contract? Was there something wrong with his brain? Had he gotten addicted to being mistreated? Or maybe… had he developed Stockholm syndrome or something?

But he was the protagonist! Wasn’t he supposed to have a strong will?

No matter how he tried to make sense of it, Ruan Zhao couldn’t. He unconsciously took a step back, staring at Gu Xingyan like he was looking at something bizarre.

Seeing his reaction, confusion flickered across Gu Xingyan’s eyes, as if he genuinely didn’t understand why Ruan Zhao was acting this way.

“…Is something wrong?” He tapped his phone twice, switching the screen from a receiving code to a payment code. “I can transfer it to you instead.”

Ruan Zhao took another step back, pressing his lips together. “Act normal. You’re scaring me.”

Who pays someone just to be bullied?

So… “Whoever you are, please step out of Gu Xingyan’s body.”

Gu Xingyan: “…?”

Just as their standoff was reaching a deadlock, a soft voice suddenly spoke from behind Ruan Zhao. Footsteps approached, growing closer.

“Zhaozhao? Do you have a friend over?”

Mother Ruan walked up to him, noticing Gu Xingyan standing beside him. Her expression shifted into one of understanding.

“Oh, so you’re the friend my Zhaozhao keeps mentioning! Gu Xingyan, right?”

Gu Xingyan politely bowed slightly. “Hello, Auntie.”

“Hello, hello! You’re very welcome here.”

Tall and well-built. Sharp eyebrows, striking eyes. It had been a long time since Mother Ruan had seen such a handsome young man. As expected, her Zhaozhao had great taste—just like she did in her youth. Always making friends with the most good-looking ones.

Hearing his mother say he was always talking about Gu Xingyan, Ruan Zhao immediately protested, drawing out his words. “Mom, when have I ever mentioned him that much?”

Ruan’s mother blinked. “Didn’t you say he’s incredibly kind? That he’s a gentle, good-natured, and helpful classmate?”

Ruan Zhao froze. He had said that. At the time, he’d been trying to dispel his mom’s suspicions, so he went all in on hyping Gu Xingyan up—painting him as practically a saint. He just hadn’t expected that one day, the boomerang would come flying back to hit him square in the face. And now, there was no way to take it back.

“It’s late, and there are a lot of mosquitoes out here,” Mother Ruan said warmly. “Let’s not stand around talking. Xiao Gu, why don’t you come upstairs for a cup of tea?”

Ruan Zhao quickly answered for him. “It’s already late. He should be heading home now.”

His mother shot him a playful glare. “Zhaozhao, where are your manners?”

“It’s not every day a friend comes over. You can’t just chase him away like that.”

Ruan Zhao: “…Oh.”

After a pause, he muttered under his breath, “Mom, why are you taking his side instead of mine?”

Mother Ruan let out a helpless chuckle, tapping Ruan Zhao’s forehead affectionately with her finger. “This isn’t about taking sides. It’s about teaching you how to treat others properly. Your good friend has finally come over, and not only are you not being a good host, but you’re also trying to push him out the door?”

……

Gu Xingyan quietly observed the interaction between Ruan Zhao and his mother. The warmth between them, the natural closeness—it was something no outsider could step into. Something he had never experienced before. And never would.

Noticing Gu Xingyan’s gaze, Mother Ruan smiled gently and waved him over. “Come upstairs, have some fruit, chat with Zhaozhao for a bit. Your uncle can drive you home later.”

Gu Xingyan shook his head slightly. “No need to trouble you, Auntie. I have something else to take care of later. I just came to see Ruan Zhao tonight—nothing more.”

“Now that I’ve seen him, I should be heading back.”

Mother Ruan hesitated. “So soon?”

Gu Xingyan nodded. “Mm.”

She gave Ruan Zhao a small nudge. “Then, Zhaozhao, walk him out.”

“Me?” Ruan Zhao pointed at himself, about to refuse—until he caught his mother’s firm gaze.

“Fine, fine.”

Without another word, the two of them walked in silence—crossing from one side of the street to the other.

They walked until they were nearly out of the brightly lit villa district. Gu Xingyan stopped.

“You should head back now.”

Ruan Zhao’s arms were covered in mosquito bites—red, swollen, and glaringly obvious against his pale skin. It looked almost alarming. He was busy drawing little cross marks over each bite, sealing them like some kind of ritual, so he didn’t even hear what Gu Xingyan had said. He hadn’t even noticed that Gu Xingyan had stopped. And, as expected, he walked straight into him.

His forehead bumped into Gu Xingyan’s shoulder. But it didn’t hurt—Gu Xingyan had instinctively raised a hand to cushion the impact.

“Why are the mosquitoes going after you so badly?”

Ruan Zhao shot him a look. “Because when two people stand together, one of them is bound to be the mosquito magnet—and apparently, that’s me.”

Gu Xingyan: “Sorry.”

Ruan Zhao: “…?”

Wait. You’re apologizing for this too? What are you, some kind of apology saint?

Ruan Zhao was seriously starting to suspect Gu Xingyan had a fever or something—maybe an infection from a wound. He reached out, lightly touching Gu Xingyan’s forehead. Then touched his own. Didn’t feel any difference.

Ruan Zhao muttered to himself, “Doesn’t seem like a fever… So why is he talking nonsense?”

Gu Xingyan caught Ruan Zhao’s hand and pulled it away from his forehead. “You’re not even curious where I’ve been these past few days? Why I haven’t been at school?”

Of course, Ruan Zhao already knew. But he still played along with Gu Xingyan and asked anyway.

“So… what have you been up to these past few days? Why haven’t you been at school?”

It was a bit perfunctory. He didn’t even bother to rearrange the sentence.

Gu Xingyan replied, “I found my biological parents… or rather, they found me.”

Ruan Zhao didn’t see any trace of happiness on his face. After a brief silence, he asked, “…Are they not treating you well?”

Gu Xingyan shook his head. “No, they’re very good to me.”

He could feel their guilt and affection—the way they yearned for him. They had investigated his past, learned what he had endured, and transferred him a huge sum of money. They had bought him houses, cars, and luxury goods, all in his name. They even planned to publicly announce his identity on his birthday.

Even though they had raised Xiang Zhijian for over a decade and had emotional ties to him, they didn’t blindly take his side. They simply stated that he had brought this upon himself and should face the consequences of the law.

By all accounts, they were good parents. It was just… too late. He could no longer conjure the longing and affection a child should feel for their parents.

Ruan Zhao didn’t notice anything amiss. Not everyone wore their emotions so openly. Gu Xingyan was adept at concealing his.

“You found your parents. Isn’t that a good thing?” Ruan Zhao said. “You’ll never have to be alone again.”

Gu Xingyan neither agreed nor disagreed.

In the short time they had been standing there, Ruan Zhao had already been bitten by mosquitoes again. Just a few scratches, and his skin was already turning red. That’s when Gu Xingyan realized—lingering here wasn’t the wisest choice.

“Stop scratching,” he said, pressing down on Ruan Zhao’s hand. “You’ll break the skin.”

“But it itches…”

“Just go home,” Gu Xingyan said.

Ruan Zhao blinked. “Didn’t you have more to say?”

Gu Xingyan had just reunited with his birth parents—he had to be feeling lost and conflicted. Since he had gone out of his way to apologize for no apparent reason, Ruan Zhao supposed he could humor him and listen.

Gu Xingyan said, “I can say it anytime. But if you stay out here any longer, your arm’s going to be a lost cause.”

Fair point.

If he didn’t put on some ointment soon, Ruan Zhao was about ready to tear his own arm off. He waved a casual farewell at Gu Xingyan and started walking away.

After a few steps, something felt amiss. He turned back. Gu Xingyan was still standing there, his dark eyes fixed on him. It was like he had been painted into place—unmoving, unwavering.

Caught off guard, Gu Xingyan’s pupils flickered slightly when Ruan Zhao suddenly turned around. But a second later, he steadied himself and continued staring.

Ruan Zhao: “…”

Quickly, he snapped his head forward and walked a few more steps. Then, unable to resist, he glanced back again. Gu Xingyan was still there. Still watching him in silence.

“Gu Xingyan.”

“What?”

A long pause. Ruan Zhao could hear his own voice, carrying the faintest trace of expectation.

“Are you… coming back to school tomorrow?”

---

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