Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao overslept.

And he had a dream. In it, he was bullying someone—constantly bossing them around, making demands left and right, acting all high and mighty like he was the king of the world.

The person on the receiving end? Completely run ragged by his orders, barely getting a moment’s rest. And yet, Ruan Zhao still wasn’t satisfied. He kept nitpicking, throwing in sarcastic jabs, pushing them further.

……

Ruan Zhao woke up. The dream, which had been so vivid just moments ago, was already fading, dissolving into scattered fragments.

He clutched his blanket, staring blankly into space. His gaze, unfocused, fixed on an imaginary point, his expression dazed and uncertain—like he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

Then, the blaring sound of his alarm clock shattered the silence.

His eyes snapped back to life.

He threw off the covers.

“Crap! I’m late! I’m late!” he yelped, dashing for the bathroom.

In his rush through the living room, he tripped over the sofa—and nearly face-planted.

If it hadn’t been for his system materializing at the last second, grabbing the hem of his pajama shirt in its teeth and yanking him backward, he would’ve gone straight to the floor.

Barely regaining his balance, Ruan Zhao released a shaky breath, his heart pounding from the near fall.

The system fluttered its wings, circling him twice, then tilted its head, looking at him in confusion.

[Zhaozhao, why are you in such a rush?]

[You’re in college now. Even if you’re late, it doesn’t really matter.]

Ruan Zhao blinked slowly,his reaction a little delayed. Because he had slept in a weird position, a strand of hair was sticking up, making him look even more clueless than usual.

…Oh. Right.

He was no longer in high school.

He wouldn’t be intercepted at the school gate by a disciplinary officer for lateness. He wouldn’t be caught by a teacher and forced to stand in the hallway as punishment.

There was no need for such frantic urgency. And yet…

For a fleeting moment, Ruan Zhao felt like he was still dreaming. He raised his head, glancing at the quartz clock on the wall.

7:59 AM.

……

8:00 AM.

The curtains in the living room automatically drew open, allowing bright morning sunlight to pour through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming up the entire room.

The place instantly felt cozy and full of light.

Right on time, the housekeeping robot began its daily routine. It rolled out from the corner, clutching a set of mini cleaning tools, ready to start its day.

Ruan Zhao was standing right in the middle of the living room, completely in the way.

The tiny housekeeping robot, barely knee-high, spoke in a slightly rigid, mechanical voice, its tone surprisingly gentle.

“Master, please move. A307 is about to begin cleaning.”

Ruan Zhao: “Huh? Oh, right.”

He shuffled a few steps to the side.

The robot didn’t have legs—instead, its lower half was a spinning disk designed to automatically suction up dust and debris. For larger items, a small claw extended from its abdomen, retrieving and neatly storing them within its compartment. Once the trash was securely stored, the claw would pat it down twice, as if to make sure nothing would fall out.

Ruan Zhao watched it for a while, fascinated.

Then, as it passed by him again, he couldn’t resist—he reached out and gently patted its head.

“Good job. Thank you for your hard work.”

The robot’s display screen illuminated, forming a sweet, smiling face.

“Serving Master is never hard work.”

Meanwhile, the system—previously curled on Ruan Zhao’s shoulder, rubbing against his neck like a spoiled pet—suddenly froze, its entire body going stiff with alarm.

Its cat-like ears drooped, then flicked backward into airplane mode, a clear sign of unease.

Its gaze fixated on the cleaning robot, filled with blatant hostility—as if glaring at a seductive demon attempting to steal its master’s affection.

The moment Ruan Zhao disappeared into the bathroom, the system stealthily approached the small cleaning robot.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, the sound of running water filling the air.

It was noisy. Ruan Zhao was unlikely to hear anything.

The system emitted a cold chuckle, its expression turning malevolent. It cracked its knuckles. Then, with all its might, it rammed its body into the little robot.

Still unsatisfied, it flapped its wings and smacked the robot’s head—right where Ruan Zhao had patted it earlier.

The robot, constructed of metal, remained completely unaffected by the system’s assault.

It tilted its head, spinning in a small circle, perplexed. It couldn’t perceive its attacker.

Another malfunction?

Why did it feel like something had just hit it? The little robot was unable to decipher the cause.

Ultimately, it attributed the issue to an internal fault.

As it mopped the floor with its miniature mop,it thought to itself—looks like I’ll need to go back to the factory for a check-up this weekend.

Ruan Zhao’s first class was flower arrangement. Not exactly mandatory.

He messaged Qi Xingchen, arranging a meeting at 9:00 AM sharp at the school gate.

Qi Xingchen’s response was concise: [Okay.]

Ruan Zhao quickly typed another message: [If I get there and don’t see you, I’ll leave.]

Qi Xingchen seemed busy, taking a while before responding: [I’ll be early. I won’t keep you waiting.]

After finishing breakfast, Ruan Zhao started hunting for his clothes.

He practically turned the entire living room upside down, only to find them behind the sofa.

The little cleaning robot had thoroughly washed them, leaving a faint detergent scent.

Worried that Ruan Zhao had placed them there on purpose, it didn’t dare move them elsewhere. Instead, it washed, dried, and neatly folded them before sealing them inside a dust-proof bag and returning them to their original spot.

That was… rather considerate.

Ruan Zhao hastily folded the clothes, then stuffed them carelessly into his backpack.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he left.

It was a hot day. On the way, he bought a mango-flavored ice cream, his favorite, and licked it as he walked to school.

These days, his bank account was overflowing with money. As long as he stopped randomly tipping male streamers, this money would last him until graduation, and beyond.

He could buy the most expensive, the best-tasting ice cream without a second thought. No need to pinch pennies anymore.

His school was a mere ten-minute stroll from his apartment. From across the street, he spotted Qi Xingchen waiting for him at the school gate.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and immaculately presented, he stood in his military academy’s black uniform, accentuating his already absurdly long legs. It was hard to miss.

Ruan Zhao checked the time.

Five minutes until nine. Punctual.

He licked his ice cream. The intense heat had begun to melt it, and cool droplets dripped onto his fingers, leaving them sticky.

He noticed a crowd gathering around Qi Xingchen—both male and female. Likely trying to strike up a conversation or ask for his contact information.

Qi Xingchen, expression ice-cold, shot them all down without hesitation. He wasn’t exactly polite about it either—his tone was far from gentle. Ruan Zhao even witnessed a shy girl, flustered, flee with teary eyes.

Qi Xingchen, for his part, remained unmoved. Not even the slightest change in expression. It was like he was wearing a mask, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Eventually, exasperated by the persistent attention, he moved to a quieter spot to keep waiting.

Ruan Zhao squinted, surveying the scene.

He still couldn’t figure out what was so special about him. Why were so many people hovering around like he was some kind of rare attraction?

He bit off the ice cream’s tip, letting the cool mango flavor spread across his mouth—a perfect summer heat remedy. Then, at a leisurely pace, he approached Qi Xingchen.

“You’re here quite early.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but Qi Xingchen’s usual glacial expression seemed to soften slightly upon seeing him.

“The military academy is nearby. Just a few minutes away.”

Ruan Zhao didn’t reply. His hands were a sticky mess from the half-eaten ice cream, leaving him no way to grab the jacket himself.

“It’s in my bag.” He turned, his back to Qi Xingchen. “Take it yourself.”

The zipper opened carefully, and a hand delved into the bag.

……

Ruan Zhao’s back was ticklish. Even the slightest touch made him incredibly uncomfortable.

Qi Xingchen’s hand barely moved, yet Ruan Zhao felt a wave of unease.

He said impatiently, “Haven’t found it yet? It’s in the outermost pocket—should be obvious.”

Qi Xingchen’s voice sounded muffled. “Found it.”

Just as he spoke, his fingers brushed against Ruan Zhao’s waist—separated only by two thin layers of fabric.

A sharp jolt ran through Ruan Zhao, his posture rigid. He snapped, “If you found it, hurry up and take it out! Stop dawdling!”

“You washed it?”

“Obviously.” A foolish question. “What, was I supposed to let it mold?”

Qi Xingchen pulled out the jacket, then carefully zipped the bag shut again.

“Thanks.”

Ruan Zhao shot him a glare. He was sure of it now—Qi Xingchen was doing this on purpose just to mess with him.

He bit down hard on the last piece of his ice cream, as if venting his frustration. It had melted too fast, turning into a sticky syrupy mess.

Ruan Zhao felt grossed out. His hands were coated in it.

He looked up at Qi Xingchen, his tone matter-of-fact: “Do you have wet wipes?”

“Only tissues.”

“Tissues will do.” At this point, he wasn’t picky—as long as he could get his hands clean, anything would do.

Qi Xingchen pulled out a tissue from his pocket. Then, without a second thought, he lowered his gaze and started wiping Ruan Zhao’s hands for him.

The soft tissue brushed over his hand’s back, then his palm, wiping away the biggest sticky spots before moving on, slowly and carefully, to each finger.

When it came to Ruan Zhao, Qi Xingchen seemed to have endless patience. He meticulously cleaned each finger, making sure to remove every last bit of stickiness.

Maybe it was because of his military training, or his frequent handling of weapons, but the rough calluses on his fingertips scraped lightly against Ruan Zhao’s soft palms, leaving a strangely tingling sensation behind.

Ruan Zhao froze. He’d intended only to borrow a tissue—he hadn’t expected Qi Xingchen to start wiping his hands for him.

Where did this man get such an idea?

His fingers curled slightly, instinctively attempting to withdraw, but the moment he moved, Qi Xingchen stopped him.

“Hold still, I’m nearly finished.”

Ruan Zhao stiffened. Feeling a little awkward, he glanced up at Qi Xingchen.

Okay, he had to admit—the guy really did have a good-looking face. Even this close, there wasn’t a single flaw on his face. And his eyelashes were long—really long. Each strand distinct, with a delicate upward curl at the tips. It reminded Ruan Zhao of the porcelain dolls he’d cherished as a child.

For a fleeting moment, that hazy childhood memory overlapped perfectly with Qi Xingchen’s face. The distinction between dream and reality blurred.

“Xing…”

“Qi Xingchen.”

Qi Xingchen released his hand, lifting his gaze to meet his eyes.

They held each other’s eyes for a moment. A subtle tension permeated the air.

An unfamiliar emotion stirred in Ruan Zhao’s chest. Something felt… amiss.

His brows furrowed. Was it… his eyes?

Those icy blue irises were undeniably striking, clear like the open sky, vast like the boundless sea…

But if they were black, pitch black—like ink diluted in water—they might be even more captivating.

Ruan Zhao spoke softly: “Can you wear black contacts?”

Qi Xingchen looked momentarily surprised. He hadn’t expected Ruan Zhao to stare at him for so long, only to ask… that.

“You prefer black?” he asked.

Ruan Zhao shook his head.“I simply think black would suit you better.”

Qi Xingchen found Ruan Zhao’s request a little odd, yet he couldn’t discern its underlying reason. It wasn’t a big deal anyway. If it made Ruan Zhao happy, then why not? So without much hesitation, he nodded. “Okay.”

As expected, Ruan Zhao’s mood brightened immediately. His eyes sparkled, and his voice softened in a way Qi Xingchen hadn’t witnessed before.

“There’s a shop nearby that sells them. I’ll accompany you.”

Qi Xingchen hadn’t expected him to be this easy to please. Just promising to change his eye color was enough to melt away Ruan Zhao’s usual sharp edges.

“Don’t you have classes?” He had actually planned to take things slow, thinking he could use this as an excuse to invite Ruan Zhao out again later. “We can go another time.”

Ruan Zhao shrugged. “Nothing important. The teachers won’t mind my absence.”

Flower arranging, painting, dessert-making… not a single class was actually meaningful. Even if he attended, he wasn’t the artistic type. He’d either stare into space or play on his light-brain under the desk.

Since light-brains had a privacy mode, he could set the display so only he could see it, making it even easier to slack off.

Qi Xingchen still seemed a little hesitant, standing there motionless.

Ruan Zhao tugged his sleeve, rocking it gently—enough to weaken his resolve. Then, in a soft, coaxing tone, he murmured: “Come on, let’s go. It won’t take long, I promise.”

Ruan Zhao could hardly wait to see what Qi Xingchen would look like with black contact lenses. Would he finally match the figure in his dreams?

He was so eager, he didn’t mind lowering his guard—speaking to Qi Xingchen with a softer tone than usual. “After everything you did, I held no grudge. I even returned your jacket like a good boy.” Ruan Zhao blinked innocently. “Now, I have only this small request. You wouldn’t refuse, would you?”

Qi Xingchen: “……”

Faced with Ruan Zhao’s shameless pleading, his resistance crumbled quickly. In the end, no matter what Ruan Zhao wanted, the answer was always the same—

“Alright.”

……

They spent the morning searching multiple stores, but none had the exact shade Ruan Zhao wanted. Despite the salesgirls’ recommendations of similar colors, Ruan Zhao remained picky, examining each option carefully, only to shake his head in disapproval every time.

“No.”

“Not right.”

“…Way off.”

“This isn’t the color I want.”

……

Qi Xingchen finally asked, “Then what color are you looking for?”

The beautiful Omega’s expression grew distant, as if delving into his memories. He pondered for a long time before replying: “A pure, deep black… with stars twinkling within.”

What kind of description was that? Had he encountered such eyes before? Was that why he was so determined to recreate them?

Qi Xingchen remained impassive. Instead, he scanned the display case, then, pointing to the bottom row, he asked—

“How about this one?”

Ruan Zhao scrutinized it.

“It’s somewhat right… yet, not quite.”

Was it close or not?

Ruan Zhao hesitated for a moment before saying, “Try them on.”

Qi Xingchen had never worn contact lenses. His eyelids seemed to have a mind of their own, refusing to cooperate no matter how hard he tried.

It took a long struggle before he finally got both lenses in. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from the ordeal.

Qi Xingchen was much taller than Ruan Zhao—if Ruan Zhao wanted to see properly, he had to stand on his toes just to barely meet his gaze. But he couldn’t keep it up for long.

“You’re too tall. I can’t see properly.” He ordered Qi Xingchen, “Lower your head.”

Qi Xingchen glanced at him before sitting down on a nearby chair.

With their height disparity eliminated, Ruan Zhao could observe more easily. He placed his hand on Qi Xingchen’s arm for support, leaning in so close that he nearly ended up in his lap.

They were practically pressed together—

Yet, Ruan Zhao focused solely on his eyes.

His light-colored pupils were filled with deep focus, locked onto Qi Xingchen’s new, pure black irises. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile.

“…Looks good.”

Ruan Zhao reached out, carefully grazing his fingertip against Qi Xingchen’s eyelashes—

As if touching a fleeting dream.

A strange heaviness settled in Qi Xingchen’s chest. Ruan Zhao’s gaze was clearly fixed on his face—

And yet, for some reason, it felt like he was looking through him at someone else.

Qi Xingchen couldn’t help but reach out and grab the boy’s wrist.

Ruan Zhao, thinking he had made Qi Xingchen uncomfortable, obediently pulled back. His voice was soft. “What’s wrong?”

Qi Xingchen stared at him, refusing to miss even the slightest change in his expression. Then, he asked, “Do you know someone with eyes like these?”

Ruan Zhao blinked. “No, I don’t.”

“Then why…” Qi Xingchen trailed off. Why were you so particular about the color? Why do you seem to see someone else through me?

Before he could finish, Ruan Zhao interrupted. “I already told you—I simply think black suits you better.”

Qi Xingchen still wasn’t entirely convinced.

But Ruan Zhao was in high spirits. His lips had been curved into a smile this entire time. He purchased every pair of black contacts in the store and gifted them to Qi Xingchen.

“Since you made me really happy today, I’ll forgive you for everything you did to me before.”

Qi Xingchen: “…”

Then, Ruan Zhao added another condition. “So… next time we meet, can you always wear these black contacts for me?”

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