Axolotl Translations

True to his word, Gu Xingyan showed up at school the next day. He even beat Ruan Zhao there.

Ruan Zhao’s task was officially over. Or, at least, it should have been if the story had played out as expected. After reclaiming his true identity, Gu Xingyan was supposed to expose him in front of everyone, tearing down the carefully crafted image and revealing his true colors.

He should have announced to the world that Ruan Zhao was a fraud, that his warmth and kindness were nothing but a mask, and that underneath it all, he was spoiled, manipulative, and cruel—a privileged bully who preyed on his classmates.

Naturally, everyone would have turned against him. His teachers would have been disappointed, his friends would have abandoned him, and he would have become the outcast, the villain everyone despised.

But none of that happened.

The class representative went around, distributing the day’s worksheets. Gu Xingyan accepted his, as usual, smooth and natural, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, as if those two sheets of paper had always been his.

Ruan Zhao reached over and snatched one from his hands, determined to break his own bad habit—this whole “helping others at his own expense” thing. Gu Xingyan needed to reclaim his independence.

“You don’t have to do my homework for me anymore.”

Before, Ruan Zhao had been dumping everything onto Gu Xingyan as part of his supposed mission. He’d done whatever it took to bully him, to force him to take on all his work. But now? Now his role in the script was over. There was no need to keep exploiting him.

Gu Xingyan appeared lost in thought. A long pause stretched before he finally managed a quiet, “Mm.”

That was all. Not another word.

Ruan Zhao glanced at him, but saw nothing unusual in his expression. Still, he assumed Gu Xingyan must be relieved. After all, who in their right mind would want to suffer through two sets of homework after a long day of classes?

During lessons, Ruan Zhao actually sat properly in his seat for once. Unlike before, he didn’t lean over, subtly invading Gu Xingyan’s space, nor did he deliberately push his things over, hogging the desk and forcing Gu Xingyan to shrink into himself like some poor, bullied kid.

At one point, while working on an assignment, Ruan Zhao’s pen slipped from his fingers and rolled onto the floor. Without thinking, Gu Xingyan bent to retrieve it. Ruan Zhao stopped him just in time. “No need. I’ve got it.”

Gu Xingyan: “…”

The pen had landed in an awkward spot, directly under Gu Xingyan’s chair. Ruan Zhao leaned down, stretching his fingers as far as they could go, struggling for a moment before finally managing to reach it. As he straightened, his forehead slammed against the desk.

The impact was loud enough that even the students in the front row turned, startled. Ruan Zhao winced, pressing a hand to his forehead with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes stung, on the verge of tearing up.

Gu Xingyan looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch him, but unsure where Ruan Zhao had hit himself, his hand hovered in midair before quietly withdrawing. In the end, he could only ask in a soft voice, “…Did that hurt?”

Ruan Zhao’s eyes were already reddened, but he insisted, “No.”

His fair skin was delicate, quick to show even the slightest injury. The spot where he’d bumped himself was already swelling, the redness spreading rapidly.

Gu Xingyan’s voice turned slightly colder. “I was closer to the pen. Why didn’t you just let me pick it up for you?”

“Didn’t want to trouble you.” The answer came automatically. But it was also genuine. Though, in hindsight, maybe he was overdoing it a little.

Something about his response seemed to strike a nerve. Gu Xingyan stared at him for a long moment, as if searching for something—a hidden meaning in his expression, an unspoken truth in his eyes.

Ruan Zhao met his gaze directly, puzzled but steady. No evasion. No embarrassment. His pale eyes were clear, transparent—like still water, easy to see through. Gu Xingyan’s gaze darkened slightly. Then, he looked away.

Ruan Zhao: [What’s wrong with him?]

System: […Probably having an episode.]

The system’s words were purely literal—no mockery or hidden meaning.

Because Gu Xingyan did have health issues: malnutrition, stomach problems, low blood sugar… Though after Ruan Zhao’s relentless feeding, he’d improved considerably. Still, there was always the risk of a relapse.

A flicker of concern crossed Ruan Zhao’s eyes. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two milk candies, and nudged them toward Gu Xingyan. “Here. Eat these.”

Gu Xingyan: “…?”

He was finding it increasingly difficult to understand Ruan Zhao.

First, he’d suddenly started acting distant—refusing his help at every turn, deliberately keeping him at arm’s length, as if drawing a clear line between them.

And now, seeing he wasn’t in a good mood, he was offering him candy? What was this supposed to be? A new tactic? Did he know Gu Xingyan would fall for it, and was trying a different way to toy with him? Was this some kind of push-and-pull strategy—raising his hopes only to dash them—just to keep his emotions on edge?

Gu Xingyan picked up one of the candies. He’d initially intended to remain firm and push it right back. But when he saw the boy’s clear, watery eyes fixed on him, without blinking…

In the end, with a stiff expression, Gu Xingyan peeled off the candy wrapper.

“Is it good?”

“Sweet.”

“Do you feel better now?”

What Ruan Zhao actually meant to ask was whether he was still feeling unwell. But Gu Xingyan interpreted it as Ruan Zhao trying to make amends, a subtle apology for keeping his distance. Holding back a smirk, Gu Xingyan gave a reserved nod. “Much better.”

Ruan Zhao breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes curving into a smile, revealing that tiny, honey-sweet dimple on his cheek. Gu Xingyan assumed their strange, silent standoff was finally over.

So, when class ended, he naturally reached for Ruan Zhao’s empty water bottle, intending to refill it at the hallway’s drinking drinking station. But just as his fingers touched the bottle—Ruan Zhao snatched it away.

Ruan Zhao: “No need, no need, I’ve got it.”

As if terrified Gu Xingyan might try to wrestle it from him, he grabbed the bottle and dashed off. He was in such a hurry that he tripped over a stray chair leg—if not for a nearby classmate catching him in time, both he and the bottle would have tumbled to the ground.

Gu Xingyan’s expression darkened, growing heavier by the second.

……

Ruan Zhao stood before the water dispenser, studying it for a few seconds. Since Gu Xingyan had always filled his bottle, he’d never actually used the school’s dispenser himself. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked.

Hmm… There were four buttons—all the same color. So, which one dispensed water? Never mind… He’d just press one at random.

As the bottle gradually warmed in his hands, he realized the water wasn’t scalding—just comfortably warm. Acceptable. But the flow was so slow.

Ruan Zhao tried to hold back, but eventually, he couldn’t help grumbling to the system.

[Gu Xingyan is so annoying.]

[I clearly told him our deal was over. He doesn’t have to listen to me anymore, doesn’t have to help me with anything—but it’s like he didn’t hear me at all. He still insists on doing things for me.]

The system replied calmly: [It takes twenty-one days to form a habit, but Gu Xingyan has been doing things for you for over a month. He might need some time to adjust.]

Ruan Zhao: [So my mission should count as complete now, right?]

The system hesitated: [But the most important part—the face-slapping moment—hasn’t happened yet.]

Ruan Zhao shrugged. [That’s Gu Xingyan’s problem. If he doesn’t want revenge, there’s nothing I can do.]

[Technically, you’re right, but… but…]

The system stammered for a long time, unable to finish its sentence, as if struggling to put something into words.

[But what?]

[But according to the employee manual… mission completion rate is an important evaluation metric. If it’s not up to standard, your final points might be affected.]

Ugh, that blasted employee manual again. One day, he was going to rip that thing to shreds!

Ruan Zhao, ever the master of logic: [Then blame Gu Xingyan. He’s the one refusing to follow the script. I can’t force him to slap me. If anything, his points should be deducted.]

The system muttered under its breath: [He’s not one of our employees, so there aren’t any points to deduct…]

The water trickled down, drop by drop, finally filling half the bottle. Ruan Zhao, growing impatient, simply closed the lid.

As he turned to walk back, he suddenly noticed Gu Xingyan standing nearby, silently watching him. Who knew how long he’d been there?

Ruan Zhao blinked in surprise. “Why are you out here? Getting water too?”

Gu Xingyan’s hands were empty—no bottle in sight. That left only one possibility: he’d come out specifically to find him.

Ruan Zhao had just learned his mission points might be affected. Consequently, he was in a foul mood, finding fault with everything and everyone. Gu Xingyan remained silent. Ruan Zhao didn’t feel like talking to him either.

Without a word, he stepped around him, ready to leave.

“Wait.”

Just as they were about to brush past each other, Gu Xingyan grabbed his wrist. His expression was grim, his lips pressed into a tight line. “We need to talk.”

……

Ruan Zhao was curious about what he wanted to discuss. So, he didn’t resist. He let Gu Xingyan pull him along. They walked until they reached a quiet, empty corner. Only then did Gu Xingyan finally stop.

But instead of speaking, he just stared at Ruan Zhao, his gaze dark and heavy, as if something was simmering beneath the surface. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Ruan Zhao studied his eyes. There was something suppressed within them—something unreadable, brooding, almost unsettling. A sudden chill ran down his spine. He decided to hurry things along.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to talk? Why are you just standing there, silent?”

Gu Xingyan reached out and took hold of Ruan Zhao’s water bottle.

Ruan Zhao hesitantly tried to reclaim his water bottle. No luck. Gu Xingyan’s grip was like iron, his fingers clamped tightly around the bottle, as if he had no intention of releasing it.

Fine, fine. It’s yours. Take it.

Despite successfully securing Ruan Zhao’s water bottle, Gu Xingyan’s mood didn’t seem to improve. He looked down at Ruan Zhao, expression unreadable.

“These little things…”

“Why won’t you let me do them for you anymore?”

Ruan Zhao: “…Huh?”

Gu Xingyan’s voice was steady, serious. “I used to do everything for you—help you with homework, pick up your pen, get your water… handle all these little tasks. Why don’t you let me anymore?”

Of all the things Ruan Zhao had expected Gu Xingyan to pull him aside for, this wasn’t one of them. He frowned. “But if I let you do those things, wouldn’t you feel like I was just using you? That I was bullying you?”

Gu Xingyan looked genuinely confused this time. His brows furrowed as he met Ruan Zhao’s gaze. “Why would I think that?”

“You never let anyone else do these things for you,” he continued, his voice low. “Only me. Doesn’t that prove that, in your heart, I’m the most special one?”

Ruan Zhao couldn’t quite follow Gu Xingyan’s logic. He let out another confused, “Huh?”

Gu Xingyan frowned. “You used to only smile at other people. Never at me. But now you do… and you won’t let me help you anymore.” Doesn’t that mean I’m not special to you anymore?

Ruan Zhao: “…”

Unbelievable. So now smiling at you is wrong, too? He kept his face blank and serious. “Fine, then. I just won’t smile at you anymore. I’ll keep a cold face all the time… Will that work for you?”

Gu Xingyan hesitated. On one hand, he really liked Ruan Zhao’s smile—it was bright, warm, and made him feel… something. But on the other hand, he still couldn’t let go of the idea of being special. He thought about it for a long moment and still couldn’t decide.

“…Gu Xingyan.”

Ruan Zhao didn’t quite understand why Gu Xingyan was so obsessed with being the most special person in his heart.

But Ruan Zhao quickly grasped the key point—and figured he might as well take advantage of it.

“If I keep treating you as the most special… will you go back to listening to me, just like before?”

Gu Xingyan: “Mm.”

The boy tilted his face up, his light-colored eyes clearly reflecting Gu Xingyan’s shadow. His long lashes fluttered, soft and delicate, as if they could blink their way straight into someone’s heart. The way he looked at him—so focused, so serious—made something inside Gu Xingyan soften.

He thought to himself—Even if I’m not the most special, I’d still listen to you.

“…Then,” Ruan Zhao hesitated for a moment, “can you be a little mean to me?”

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