Gripping the swaying escape ladder, Zheng Yijie climbed aboard. As he stepped onto the open deck, he gasped. The sheer scale of it—broad, expansive, and framed by towering superstructures—was overwhelming.
Looking up from below, the ship had seemed massive. But now, standing on what felt like a basketball court of a deck, the humid river breeze rushing past him, goosebumps crawled over his skin.
And it wasn’t over yet.
As the lights flickered on, he followed the others into the cabin. A spacious, well-lit living room. A pristine, fully stocked kitchen. Cozy, tastefully furnished bedrooms…
It was like going from hell to heaven in an instant.
Dazed, Zheng Yijie stood frozen in the hallway, his mind spinning as if he’d just gotten off a rollercoaster. He turned to Gu Mengran, his mouth opening and closing before he finally stammered, “You call this a small boat? This is a damn luxury yacht!”
Gu Mengran, clearly amused by his reaction, simply shrugged and grinned. “It’s just a small bulk carrier—why wouldn’t it count as a small boat?”
“…Fine, fine, small boat, whatever. Great small boat.”
Still reeling, Zheng Yijie barely registered the teasing. He craned his neck, looking around with wide-eyed curiosity, like a tourist stepping into a foreign land for the first time.
But it was getting late. After days of travel, everyone was utterly exhausted. Most of the ship’s appliances were still stored away in the space, and there was no point in giving a full tour.
So, Gu Mengran simply walked over to a door next to his grandfather’s room, pushed it open, and jerked his chin toward Zheng Yijie. “There. That’s your room. Go take a nice, long shower—I’ll bring you bedding and essentials shortly.”
“My room? A single room?”
Zheng Yijie’s eyes lit up with excitement. He deliberately slowed his steps, savoring the moment like opening a mystery box, inching his way into the bedroom.
An en-suite bathroom. A custom wardrobe. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the room with light. And a big bed. There weren’t any appliances yet, but the sheer space and privacy made it clear—his hosts were treating him well.
“This… this is amazing! Absolutely amazing!”
Overjoyed, he threw himself onto the mattress, rolling around like a kid before bouncing back up. He rushed to the door, stopping the others just before they could leave.
His face flushed with excitement, his words tumbling out. “I knew I made the right choice following you guys! My bragging days are over—compared to you, my survival skills were child’s play!”
“I, Zheng Yijie, am officially signing my life over to you guys! Please, please treat me as one of your own—whatever you need, just say the word! Point me in a direction, and I’ll go running!”
To emphasize his sincerity, he clenched his fist and thumped his chest twice in a show of loyalty.
Gu Mengran had to admit, the Windwing had completely won over the once-skeptical doomsday prepper. Any doubts Zheng Yijie had before were gone—he wasn’t leaving, even if they tried to kick him out.
Gu Mengran had already welcomed him plenty of times, so there was no need to say it again. Instead, he simply turned the doorknob, stepped inside, then glanced back with a grin.
“Go shower, man. You stink.”
“Really?” Zheng Yijie sniffed himself. “…Oof. Yeah, I might be a little bit ripe.”
……
After a refreshing cold shower, Gu Mengran gathered toiletries, fresh sheets, a blanket, and a few changes of clothes before delivering them to Zheng Yijie’s room.
Back in his own bedroom, the last traces of lingering cool air had already faded. Gu Mengran switched on the air conditioning, pulled back the covers, and sprawled out on his long-missed bed, arms and legs spread in complete relaxation.
Finally, home.
Gu Mengran hugged his blanket and sighed, the tension slowly draining away.
The road ahead was still uncertain, still full of challenges, but no matter what, home always brought a sense of security.
Despite the lingering excitement, he thought he’d have trouble sleeping. Curled up in bed, he tried to plan for the next day, but before he could sort out anything useful, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off into unconsciousness.
By the time he woke up naturally, he was sporting a full-on bedhead, shuffling out of his room in slippers.
He barely had time to stretch when a wave of unbearable heat smacked him in the face, jolting him fully awake. He hurried down the hallway toward the living room.
His grandfather and Zheng Yijie were nowhere to be seen—only Liang Zhao sat alone on the couch.
The living room felt like a sauna. Beads of sweat trickled down Liang Zhao’s forehead, his black T-shirt damp with sweat.
“The AC’s broken? It’s roasting in here.”
Gu Mengran sat beside him, reaching for a tissue to wipe his face—but found nothing.
The coffee table was bare. The tissue box was gone. The fruit basket was gone. And most importantly, the AC remote…
The living room’s air conditioning wasn’t a standard unit; it was industrial-grade, designed for extreme conditions. The indoor unit was embedded in the ceiling, like a central air system. But during installation, they hadn’t wired a manual switch—meaning it could only be turned on with the remote.
And during the emergency evacuation… Gu Mengran had instinctively stored a bunch of items, including the AC remote from the coffee table.
By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.
Liang Zhao smirked, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Well, whether it’s broken or not… you’d have to turn it on to find out.”
Gu Mengran wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Flustered, he quickly retrieved the remote from his storage space.
With a soft beep, the air vents above slowly opened. Instantly, a cool breeze replaced the stifling heat, refreshing and crisp—like ice cream on a hot summer day.
“There’s food in the kitchen.”
Seeing Gu Mengran practically pressing his forehead to the floor, Liang Zhao reminded him casually.
Gu Mengran didn’t rush off to eat. Instead, he mumbled, “Oh,” then asked offhandedly, “Where are Grandpa and Zheng Yijie? Still asleep?”
Liang Zhao nodded toward the hallway, his gaze dimming slightly as he said quietly, “They woke up early. Made breakfast. They’re in the cockpit right now.”
“Grandpa’s giving him a tour? That guy sure is nosy,” Gu Mengran muttered, missing the hint of disappointment in Liang Zhao’s expression.
Liang Zhao shook his head slightly. “Not a tour. Grandpa Meng is showing him the equipment—teaching him how to steer the ship.”
“Oh, that’s great! The sooner he learns, the better. Once we start taking turns, it’ll be way less exhausting for all of us.”
Liang Zhao didn’t reply. His shoulders slumped slightly, his gaze falling to the floor. He rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand in slow, repetitive motions, as if lost in thought.
Sensing something was off, Gu Mengran shifted closer and nudged Liang Zhao’s arm, half-jokingly. “What’s wrong? Did the heat get to you, Brother Liang?”
Liang Zhao glanced at his restless hand, then chuckled softly. “No, I’m fine. Just feeling… useless. Everyone else is busy, but I’m just sitting here, enjoying the AC.”
One simple sentence, and Gu Mengran immediately understood where the problem lay.
It wasn’t just about having nothing to do—Zheng Yijie’s arrival had given Liang Zhao a sense of crisis.
After running around outside for so long, who wouldn’t want to come back and relax in the comfort of air conditioning for a few days? But not Liang Zhao. He’d rather sit in the sweltering living room, doing nothing, just to make sure he was noticed.
He wasn’t worried about survival, or that Gu Mengran would abandon him. He was just… afraid he wouldn’t be needed anymore.
Sensitive and insecure—just like the Liang Zhao from his previous life.
Gu Mengran glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then suddenly covered his mouth and chuckled.
His exaggerated laughter echoed through the living room, drawing a confused look from Liang Zhao.
Gu Mengran patted Liang Zhao’s shoulder and stood up, putting on a serious face. “Where do you get all this energy? I planned to let you guys rest today, but apparently, none of you can sit still. Fine, let’s go—time to work.”
“What work?” Liang Zhao stood up, pausing before realizing, “Wait, you haven’t eaten yet.”
Gu Mengran grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the kitchen. “We’re going to the kitchen anyway—might as well multitask.”
The kitchen was spacious—plenty of room to move around.
Gu Mengran quickly finished a bowl of millet porridge, then retrieved a stack of stainless steel buckets from his space. Two extra-large metal basins—big enough for an adult to sit in—followed, along with two folding chairs. He and Liang Zhao sat down just outside the kitchen door.
They were long past excited about instant meals and dry rations. Meat was still a treat, but what Gu Mengran really craved? The ultimate seafood feast!
One bucket each of mantis shrimp, blue swimmer crabs, whelks, clams, and rock lobsters. Half a basin of frozen octopus and another of baby shrimp. And finally, a full tub of fresh, thoroughly dead tiger prawns.
Once all the seafood was out and in containers, the sheer volume was overwhelming—it nearly filled the entire kitchen, leaving barely any room to walk.
Gu Mengran glanced at Liang Zhao, who looked slightly stunned, and smiled with satisfaction.
Nothing to do, huh? With this much seafood, they’d be busy for the whole day.
Time inside his storage space was frozen—everything came out exactly as it went in. And since he couldn’t store live animals, all the seafood had been kept at home for a few days to purge sand before dying completely. Only then had he stored it.
The frozen items were set aside to thaw, while the whelks, clams, crabs, and mantis shrimp would be dealt with later. For now, Gu Mengran pulled out a box of toothpicks from his space, grabbed a tiger prawn, and held it up to Liang Zhao.
“Know how to devein shrimp?”
Before Liang Zhao could answer, Gu Mengran demonstrated—piercing the shrimp’s back with a toothpick and carefully pulling out a thin black string. “See this dark vein? Just insert the toothpick, gently lift it out, then pull slowly with your fingers. Don’t use too much force, or—”
Snap.
Halfway through, the shrimp vein broke. The rest shrank back into the shell. Gu Mengran poked and prodded with the toothpick, trying to fish it out, but only managed to mash it into a sticky mess that clung to the shrimp meat.
His first lesson, and he’d already messed up—what kind of teacher was he?
Unwilling to admit defeat, Gu Mengran grabbed another shrimp.
Same method, same failure. Without missing a beat, he casually tossed the mangled shrimp back into the bowl, his face heating up all the way to his ears.
“But this is exactly how they teach it online… Is it a problem with the shrimp?” he mumbled, avoiding Liang Zhao’s gaze, as if looking at him would make things even more embarrassing.
“Maybe it’s the toothpick.” A faint smile played on Liang Zhao’s lips as he held out his hand. “Do you have scissors?”
Gu Mengran nodded and pulled a new pair from his storage, handing them over.
Liang Zhao worked quickly, picking a tiger prawn from the bowl with practiced ease.
First, he angled the scissors and snipped off the shrimp’s rostrum. Then, with a slight squeeze, a dark little sac popped out. He pinched it, gave a gentle tug, and the entire shrimp vein slid out.
“Hm, guess it was the toothpick.” Liang Zhao pressed his lips together, amusement flickering in his eyes.
Gu Mengran stared at the perfectly extracted vein, his expression darkening like the bottom of a scorched pot. He glared at Liang Zhao, then stood up abruptly. “Fine! You do it. The whole bowl is yours!”
Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter
Axolotl Translations 
Leave a comment