Axolotl Translations

Once they decided to go, they went.

Shangguan Yu returned to his room to put on warmer clothes, slipping on gloves and covering his legs with a blanket before rejoining Zuo Zhou in the living room.

Just as they were about to head out, Zuo Zhou, already fully dressed, stopped abruptly. He said he’d just remembered something important he needed to grab from his room.

Shangguan Yu didn’t think much of it and waited patiently in the living room. When Zuo Zhou returned, he had a loosely packed backpack slung over his shoulder.

“We’re just going for a short walk. Do we really need to bring all that?” Shangguan Yu asked, puzzled.

“Oh, it’s nothing much—just a few things.” Zuo Zhou avoided a direct answer and instead urged, “Let’s go, Brother Yu.”

“…Alright.”

And so, after saying goodbye to Grandma, they stepped outside together.

This was the first time Shangguan Yu had left Zuo Zhou’s home since arriving for the New Year.

Initially, he was a little tense, worried about running into people and drawing attention. But he soon relaxed.

Just as Zuo Zhou had said, everyone was indoors, celebrating the holiday with their families. The streets were quiet, with hardly anyone around.

Zuo Zhou pushed Shangguan Yu’s wheelchair along the path until they reached the small river he’d mentioned. Finding a sunlit spot on the riverbank, he carefully settled Shangguan Yu there.

The scenery wasn’t particularly breathtaking, but it possessed a quiet simplicity that felt almost serene. For someone accustomed to living in a cramped high-rise, simply sitting by the river like this offered a rare sense of relaxation.

“This time of year, the river freezes over in the mornings and evenings. It’s fun to throw rocks at the ice and watch them crack the surface,” Zuo Zhou said, carrying a large stone from a distance and setting it down beside Shangguan Yu’s wheelchair to use as a seat. “But it gets too cold then, so you’re better off staying inside.”

Shangguan Yu didn’t reply. He wanted to see the frozen river, but he knew Zuo Zhou was right—his body was too frail, and it was best to avoid the chill.

Once Zuo Zhou was settled, he placed his backpack at his feet and gently tapped Shangguan Yu’s gloved hand.

“Brother Yu, are you cold?”

“No.” Shangguan Yu shook his head. “What’s this river called?”

“Budai River. They say that from above, it looks like a giant cloth bag,” Zuo Zhou explained, letting out a soft chuckle. “But I have no idea who’s actually seen it from above—there aren’t any mountains around here.”

Shangguan Yu chuckled in response.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while. Shangguan Yu half-closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth of the winter sun, letting the gentle murmur of the flowing water soothe him completely.

Then, suddenly, he heard a faint rustling beside him. Curious, he opened his eyes and turned to look.

Zuo Zhou was cradling his backpack, carefully taking something out.

Shangguan Yu assumed he was pulling out a thermos of hot water or perhaps some snacks, but after watching for a moment, he realized that Zuo Zhou had retrieved a few old envelopes and a small wooden object.

“What are these?” Shangguan Yu asked, unable to recognize them at first.

Zuo Zhou paused, set his bag down, and turned to Shangguan Yu, opening his hands to reveal the items he’d been holding onto for years.

Shangguan Yu focused his gaze. The moment he finally recognized what they were, his breath hitched.

The envelopes—those were the ones they’d used to exchange letters years ago. And the wooden object—it was the hand-carved figurine Zuo Zhou had given him when he left Jiuru Village after his volunteer teaching ended!

Shangguan Yu’s eyes widened in shock.

“This… this wooden carving, I thought I left it in my study…”

“You did,” Zuo Zhou nodded, rubbing the figurine’s head with his thumb as if it were a precious keepsake. “I saw it the first day I went to your house, so I took it and kept it for myself.”

He stated it so matter-of-factly, then gave Shangguan Yu a slightly aggrieved look. “And after all this time, you never even noticed.”

Shangguan Yu: …So you stole my stuff, and I haven’t said a word, yet you’re the one acting wronged?

Zuo Zhou placed the figurine in Shangguan Yu’s palm, then picked up the small stack of envelopes—not particularly thick, but clearly well-preserved.

“Brother Yu, I kept every letter you sent me back then. I’ve read them hundreds of times, so many that I could probably recite them by heart.”

Shangguan Yu was stunned, staring at Zuo Zhou and the letters in his hands, deeply moved.

Strangely enough, he actually believed him.

“Back then, whenever I accomplished something, my first thought was to tell you. I wanted you to know I was working hard and studying seriously.”

Zuo Zhou gently ran his fingers over the envelopes, his voice soft. “Every time I received a letter from you, I was so happy. I’d read it over and over, trying to picture you as you wrote your reply.”

“I wanted to ask you for a photo, but I was too shy. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to give me one, that you’d think I was strange. So in the end, the only picture I had was from the school donation event at school. Even though there were other people in it, at least it was a photo of us together…”

As he spoke, Zuo Zhou pulled an old photograph from one of the envelopes and handed it to Shangguan Yu.

Taking it, Shangguan Yu immediately recognized it. It was indeed a group photo taken by a journalist during the donation ceremony at Jiuru Primary School, years ago.

In the picture, a young Shangguan Yu and a much younger Zuo Zhou stood in the center, surrounded by others—faculty from Luocheng University, officials from Jiuru Primary School, and a few government representatives.

But oddly enough, every other person’s face had been covered with white tape. From this angle, the photo really did look like it was just the two of them.

Though the picture had been well-preserved, the slightly grainy pixels betrayed the passage of time, evidence of how long it had been treasured.

Looking at the photograph, Shangguan Yu felt an indescribable wave of emotion wash over him. His fingertips traced the image of his younger self, standing tall and smiling so brightly—a face full of life.

Noticing Shangguan Yu’s quiet melancholy, Zuo Zhou reached out and gently took the hand that was touching the photo. His voice was soft yet resolute. “Brother Yu, I want to see that smile on your face again.”

Shangguan Yu’s heart fluttered at those words, an inexplicable feeling surging within him. He hesitated, subtly curling his fingers, then shifted his gaze to the young Zuo Zhou in the photograph.

“You were so small and thin back then. I never imagined you’d grow this tall.”

Taller than me.

Zuo Zhou chuckled softly. “Well, I had to grow tall enough to carry you in my arms.”

“…” Shangguan Yu gave him a look that was impossible to describe. “Xiao Zuo, when exactly… did you realize?”

What he really wanted to ask was—when did Zuo Zhou realize his feelings for him? But as the words reached his lips, he hesitated, feeling a blush creep up his neck.

Zuo Zhou studied Shangguan Yu’s expression and clearly understood the unspoken question. His smile softened, and he answered earnestly, “You mean when did I realize I liked you? I think… probably after I started university in Luocheng.”

Shangguan Yu, still feeling a bit awkward, looked away. But even as he averted his gaze, his ears were keenly attuned to Zuo Zhou’s words.

Zuo Zhou didn’t seem to mind whether Shangguan Yu was looking at him or not. He simply continued, “After you left, I poured all my time and energy into studying—because I knew that was the only way I’d ever see you again.”

“Back then, I didn’t understand why I was so determined to see you again. Maybe it was because Grandma always taught me to be grateful and repay kindness, or maybe I was just stubborn. Either way, getting into Luocheng University’s architecture program and finding you became my obsession for years.”

“But when I finally got in… you were nowhere to be found. I asked around, trying to find any news about you. I went to your house every week, but you were never there. That’s when I realized… my life just couldn’t be without you.”

Zuo Zhou had spoken in one continuous stream, and now he finally paused. His gaze was deep and intense as he looked at Shangguan Yu. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, his breath coming a little faster, as if he were struggling to hold something back.

Even without looking at him, Shangguan Yu could feel the heat radiating from his side.

Suddenly, Zuo Zhou reached out, gently but firmly cupping Shangguan Yu’s chin between his fingers, and turned his face towards him.

“Brother Yu,” Zuo Zhou’s voice was husky as he stared straight into Shangguan Yu’s eyes. “If after all this, you still doubt my feelings for you, then I must be absolutely terrible at pursuing someone.”

His eyes were dark, but they burned with an unmistakable fire—one that threatened to melt away the last vestiges of Shangguan Yu’s composure.

Instinctively, Shangguan Yu tried to turn his head, wanting to escape Zuo Zhou’s piercing gaze. But Zuo Zhou’s grip was firm, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Xiao Zuo, you’re hurting me,” Shangguan Yu said.

“Oh? If it’s this kind of pain… then I want to make you hurt even more,” Zuo Zhou whispered, enunciating each word carefully. “Until you’re begging me in tears—that would be ideal.”

“You—!” Shangguan Yu’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected such words from Zuo Zhou.

The expression on Zuo Zhou’s face was unfamiliar. The raw desire in his gaze was even more so.

For as long as Shangguan Yu had known him, Zuo Zhou had always been obedient and well-behaved. But now, the once docile pup had finally bared its fangs, making Shangguan Yu realize—too late—that what had been by his side all this time was, in fact, a wolf in waiting.

Zuo Zhou pressed his lips together, his Adam’s apple moving in a hard swallow. Then, he reached out and roughly traced Shangguan Yu’s lips with his fingers.

His eyes were locked on Shangguan Yu’s slightly parted lips—so intensely that if his gaze could materialize, it would have already invaded, wrapping around Shangguan Yu’s tongue again and again.

A palpable sense of danger washed over Shangguan Yu. Was Zuo Zhou truly about to lose control… all because of a single question?

“Alright, Xiao Zuo,” Shangguan Yu said, reaching out to grasp Zuo Zhou’s wrist. “I never doubted you. I believe you.”

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