Axolotl Translations

“Anyway, the whole thing was just a misunderstanding.”

Fresh out of the shower, Gu Mengran stood by the water dispenser, gulping down a cup of water as he casually recounted everything that had happened today. He went over their run-in outside and what they had learned at the parking lot, filling the others in without much thought.

But while he spoke with ease, his words had a very different effect on his audience.

Meng Gaoyang shivered, his back stiffening against the chair as chills ran down his spine. His heart leaped into his throat.

“You ran into people the second you stepped out? That’s some serious bad luck. Good thing it was just a misunderstanding—otherwise, who knows if you’d have even made it back.”

Still rattled, the old man rubbed his chest repeatedly, sighing heavily. “I don’t know… Something still feels off. I mean, how is it possible that Xiao Zheng just happens to witness every single situation that could be misinterpreted, and they all turn out to have some hidden explanation?”

As if summoned by the conversation, Zheng Yijie emerged from the hallway, his damp hair still dripping. Upon hearing this, his face flushed slightly, and he instinctively glanced at Gu Mengran.

Gu Mengran raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a half-smirk.

Of course, it wasn’t just pure coincidence. Most likely, Zheng Yijie had been influenced by post-apocalyptic novels, making him naturally wary of any unfamiliar group.

With those preconceived notions in mind, anytime he heard something vague or unclear, his brain would automatically fill in the blanks, shaping a version of reality that aligned with his expectations—while completely overlooking other possibilities.

Especially considering he was a professional storyteller—an online novelist who had bought a house outright with his writing!

Not wanting to humiliate their landlord in front of everyone, Gu Mengran subtly shifted his gaze away and turned to his grandfather, saying, “If it wasn’t just a coincidence, then it wouldn’t have been a misunderstanding. Honestly, we should be relieved.”

“A misunderstanding is always preferable.” The old man stroked his chin, his brows furrowing tightly. “But what worries me is… what if they let you go on purpose? Lowered your guard, so they could lure you in later?”

“That’s unlikely. We don’t have anything worth baiting us for.” Gu Mengran drained his cup and bent down to refill it, letting the water flow to the brim.

“Oh? And just because you say so, that makes it true?” The old man stared directly at Gu Mengran, though his eyes kept darting to the left.

On the living room floor, the kids sat sprawled out on interlocked foam mats, completely engrossed in their Lego creations. The two teachers, though half-listening to the conversation, were mostly occupied with keeping the children in check—offering sips of water here and there and making sure none of them tried to snack on the toys.

Gu Mengran glanced over before lowering his voice. “Grandpa, I’m not an idiot. There’s no way I’d reveal everything to them without keeping some cards close. I only mentioned that we have an elderly person with us. Unless they have some weird interest in you, then—”

“You little brat, you trying to be funny?” The old man’s hand shot up, looking dangerously close to giving him a smack.

Gu Mengran chuckled, reluctantly tearing himself away from the water dispenser. Holding his cup, he walked over to his grandfather and reassured him in a soft voice, “Don’t worry, Grandpa. There were so many of them—if they really wanted to do something, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. And besides, they already know Zheng Yijie lives here. If they had any bad intentions, they wouldn’t have waited until now.”

Instead of calming down, the old man grew even more tense. His face darkened as he asked, “Then doesn’t that mean they know we live here too?”

“They probably do. We’re outsiders, and we’ve been hanging around with Zheng Yijie. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out we’re staying at his place.”

Meng Gaoyang sucked in a sharp breath. “Tsk… Either way, we should leave as soon as possible. People’s morality doesn’t hold up under temptation. They might not care about us since we’re all men, but our supplies and…”

The old man trailed off, but Gu Mengran understood what he meant.

They weren’t in a rush to leave, but they should leave soon. The problem was, it wasn’t that easy. Brother Gang had warned them not to search for supplies in the northern part of the city, while other areas were controlled by different factions—ones they didn’t dare provoke.

Brother Gang had offered to help by providing them with vehicles, but he wasn’t about to deliver them to their doorstep. If they wanted the cars, they’d have to go to Jiu Street themselves.

It wouldn’t be a big deal for him and Liang Zhao to make the trip, but the real issue was that they needed buses—at least two of them. Even assuming those were available, how were they supposed to ask for them without raising suspicion?

And now that the misunderstanding had been cleared up, would Zheng Yijie still want to leave with them? If he decided to stay and refused to share his supplies, then in the coming days, he and Liang Zhao would have to go out and scavenge—or at least pretend to bring something back.

Ugh. So many problems.

Gu Mengran let out a breath in his heart but kept his expression light. Shrugging, he flashed his grandfather a grin. “Got it.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t as tense as his grandfather. Something about the burly, muscle-bound leader of Jiu Street just didn’t scream calculating mastermind to him.

Either way, no point worrying about it now. Since he had some free time, Gu Mengran decided it was time to improve their meals.

He found Zheng Yijie, got his permission, and stepped into the well-stocked storage room.

Zheng Yijie kept his storage room impressively well-organized. Supplies were sorted into neat sections, with different labels on each box. It didn’t take long for Gu Mengran to find what he needed.

A bag of cake flour, a can of powdered milk, a pack of black tea, four cans of luncheon meat, and fifteen fist-sized potatoes. Finally, he grabbed ten eggs from the double-door fridge and hurried into the kitchen.

Basic kitchenware—pots, pans, bowls—were all available. But there wasn’t a single appliance like an oven or an air fryer. Clearly, Zheng Yijie wasn’t much of a cook.

With all the ingredients ready, Gu Mengran turned on the faucet, washed his hands thoroughly, and started with the eggs.

He grabbed a large bowl and a small strainer, placed the strainer over the bowl, then cracked an egg onto it. The egg whites easily separated from the yolk with zero effort.

Gu Mengran stored the separated egg whites in the fridge for later use. Then, he grabbed a stainless steel mixing bowl, poured in an appropriate amount of cake flour and sugar, and added a spoonful of vegetable oil. He stirred it thoroughly until there were no traces of dry flour left.

Since there was no fresh milk, he diluted some powdered milk with warm water as a substitute. He then poured the “milk” and egg yolks into the bowl and stirred again. Once it turned into a thick yellow batter, he moved on to the next step—whipping the egg whites.

To eliminate any fishy smell, he added a few drops of white vinegar to the egg whites before whisking. Lemon juice would’ve worked too, but vinegar was just as effective.

The real challenge, however, was whipping the egg whites without an electric mixer. Using a strainer as a makeshift whisk, he stirred with all his might, but his arms were already aching, and the egg whites still weren’t forming stiff peaks.

His inventory space had an electric mixer, but the kitchen door couldn’t be locked. If someone walked in and saw it, how would he explain?

A sore arm was one thing, but if the egg whites didn’t whip properly, the whole batch of eggs would go to waste. After weighing his options, Gu Mengran put down the strainer and tiptoed toward the door.

After glancing around and seeing no one nearby, he gripped the door handle, ready to close it.

Just then, Liang Zhao stepped out of the study across the hall, freshly changed, towel in hand, rubbing his damp hair.

Gu Mengran’s eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he waved him over. “Liang Zhao, come here! Keep watch for me.”

“Keep watch?” Liang Zhao raised an eyebrow, puzzled, but didn’t stop walking. He headed straight into the kitchen.

As he reached the spot where Gu Mengran had been standing, Gu Mengran quickly stopped him and pulled over a small stool. “Just sit here and let me know if anyone’s coming. I need to use the mixer from the space—my arm’s about to fall off.”

Liang Zhao glanced at the assortment of ingredients spread across the counter and hesitated slightly. “Are you whipping egg whites? I can do it for you—take a break.”

“No, no need.”

Gu Mengran quickly waved off the offer. Liang Zhao’s cooking skills… well, let’s just say they weren’t exactly reliable.

Not wanting to make his reluctance too obvious and hurt Liang Zhao’s feelings, Gu Mengran pulled over a few potatoes, along with a wash basin and a peeler. “Here, peel these,” he said. “You gotta contribute somehow.”

With someone keeping watch, Gu Mengran felt much more at ease. He discreetly pulled an electric mixer out of his space, gave it a thorough rinse, then plugged it in.

In less than five minutes, the egg whites transformed into smooth, glossy meringue.

He scooped out a third and folded it into the batter until fully incorporated. Then, he added the remaining meringue, using the same gentle folding technique.

Once everything was well combined, Gu Mengran grabbed two inner pots from the rice cookers on the counter, brushed them with a thin layer of oil, and evenly divided the batter between them.

With so many people to feed, he needed to make a large batch—good thing Zheng Yijie had two rice cookers.

After nearly forty minutes of steaming, his rice-cooker chiffon cakes were coming together nicely. Now, they just needed another thirty minutes to steam, plus twenty minutes of resting time before the final verdict.

By the time he was done, Liang Zhao had finished peeling the potatoes and had even washed them thoroughly.

Gu Mengran tidied up the counter, stashed the electric mixer back into his inventory, and got ready for the next dish.

Gu Mengran cut the potatoes into thick strips using a crinkle cutter and soaked them in water for five minutes to remove excess starch.

As the oil heated up in the pan, he drained the potatoes and tossed them in, frying them slowly over low heat.

He didn’t waste time while waiting—he prepared the seasoning mix in advance, setting aside chili powder, cumin, sesame seeds, and other spices. Once the fries turned golden and crispy, he scooped them out and divided them into two portions, tossing them with the seasonings.

One batch was spicy. The other wasn’t.

Zheng Yijie’s spice collection was surprisingly well-stocked, so even without chili, the fries wouldn’t be bland. But Gu Mengran personally preferred a little heat—his taste buds needed that kick.

The aroma was mouthwatering. He popped one into his mouth—it was crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and packed with flavor. If only he had some cilantro, scallions, or zhe’ergen (wild ginger), the taste would’ve been even better. He could’ve put these in a cart and sold them on the street!

With his homemade crispy chili fries ready, the kitchen was filled with the rich scent of fried goodness. Out of the corner of his eye, Gu Mengran noticed Liang Zhao swallow involuntarily.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a piece of the spicy fries with his chopsticks and leaned in, holding it up to Liang Zhao’s lips.

Caught off guard, Liang Zhao almost had the fry pressed against his lips. But instead of opening his mouth, he glanced up at Gu Mengran in surprise and reached for the chopsticks.

“Hey, don’t move! You’ll drop it,” Gu Mengran swatted his hand away, tilting his chin as a signal for him to eat.

Faced with those expectant eyes, Liang Zhao hesitated for a second—then slightly parted his lips.

“How is it? Good? Does it need more seasoning?” Gu Mengran fed him the fry and immediately bombarded him with questions before he even had a chance to chew.

Gu Mengran was too focused on watching Liang Zhao’s expression to notice the subtle flush creeping up his ears.

Liang Zhao quickly composed himself, chewing and swallowing the fry before giving an honest nod. “It’s really good. The flavor’s just right—doesn’t need anything else.”

“Great.” Gu Mengran grinned. “Help me out—take these fries to the others while they’re still hot. I’ll fry up some luncheon meat, and the cake should be about done.”

“Alright.”

Liang Zhao washed his hands, picked up the two bowls of fries, and carried them out.

But a moment later, he was back, standing off to the side, quietly observing. He watched the entire process, from the sizzling oil to the moment both sides of the luncheon meat turned a perfect golden brown.

By then, the cake was ready too.

Gu Mengran glanced at the clock and unplugged the rice cooker. His heart pounded a little—he had watched plenty of tutorials, but this was his first time actually making one himself. This was it—the moment of truth.

Holding his breath, he slowly pressed the lid release.

A wave of steam rushed out, carrying the rich aroma of milk and a delicate, sweet fragrance that instantly filled the air. Gu Mengran took a deep breath, letting the scent wash over him. Once the steam had dissipated, he finally looked down—inside the pot sat a soft, golden sponge, light and fluffy as a cloud.

The pot was still hot, so Gu Mengran used a towel to lift out the inner pot and flipped it upside down onto a freshly cleaned cutting board. With a few firm taps on the bottom, he carefully lifted the pot away—revealing a perfectly round, jiggly chiffon cake.

It was flawless. The edges were a soft golden yellow, while the base had a slightly deeper caramelized hue. Even without the rich, milky aroma filling the air, just looking at it was enough to make one’s mouth water.

Nailed it on the first try. A rush of pride swelled in Gu Mengran’s chest, but there was no time to bask in his success—chiffon cake was best enjoyed warm. He quickly sliced both cakes into neat portions, plated them up, and, along with Liang Zhao, carried everything to the living room.

Chiffon cake, crispy wolf fang potatoes, and pan-seared luncheon meat—the meal was a major upgrade. The kids were over the moon, finally feeling like this “trip” was turning into a real adventure.

Even the adults let loose, eating heartily and showering the cook with praise. Everyone cherished this rare, fleeting moment of warmth and joy—because in times like these, even the simplest pleasures felt like treasures.

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