Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao had once said he preferred eyes of pure black, shimmering with inner stars. But he was wrong. The stars were in his own eyes. When he fixed his gaze on someone, it was impossible to refuse him.

Qi Xingchen felt a strange pull, as if under a spell. He couldn’t stop himself, his fingers drifting towards Ruan Zhao’s eyes. But the boy flinched, a quick, instinctive movement. Qi Xingchen’s hand brushed against the corner of his eye instead, leaving a faint warmth behind.

Ruan Zhao’s smile faltered ever so slightly, his gaze turning questioning. And in Qi Xingchen’s eyes… he saw something familiar. A burning, restrained emotion. Intense, yet achingly pure. A feeling he had long forgotten, from a time so distant that he could no longer recall when or where.

But in that person’s eyes, he had once seen it over and over again. The resemblance, once a subtle six or seven, had now surged to a startling nine. Ruan Zhao felt a moment of disorientation.

Driven by a sudden need to confirm his suspicion, he pressed Qi Xingchen’s palm against his face. Qi Xingchen’s hand was noticeably larger than Ruan Zhao’s face. His fingertips, rough with calluses, his palm, calloused and firm. It wasn’t a comfortable sensation.

Ruan Zhao’s skin was delicate, easily irritated by anything coarse. So why… why wasn’t he pulling away?

Instinctively, Ruan Zhao nuzzled lightly against Qi Xingchen’s palm, like a small cat. Just as he anticipated, the flicker in Qi Xingchen’s eyes intensified. A restless, unfamiliar heat stirred beneath the surface, his gaze deepening with something dark and unreadable.

The confusion on Ruan Zhao’s face slowly melted away, replaced by understanding. And—a faint trace of smugness. If he’d had a tail, it would have been curled proudly.

Maybe it was because he had a feeling—that from now on, he could have Qi Xingchen wrapped around his little finger. That realization transformed his once soft-spoken request into a bold command.

“From now on, whenever you meet me, you have to wear these.” His tone left no room for argument. “If you don’t… then I won’t talk to you.” The threat, surprisingly, carried weight.

Qi Xingchen paused for a moment. His usually cool voice held a hint of something lower, rougher—almost hoarse. “Then if I wear them every day,” he asked, “does that mean you’ll meet me every day?”

Ruan Zhao blinked, confused. Where did that logic come from? Wasn’t this pushing his luck? He was the one making demands—how had the tables turned? Besides, they attended different universities. Their schedules didn’t align. There was no way they could see each other daily.

Ruan Zhao assumed Qi Xingchen was just speaking offhandedly, so he didn’t think much of it. To humor him, he played along. “I suppose… it’s not impossible.”

After leaving the contact lens store, they headed back to campus together. By now, it was already noon—lunchtime. Since Qi Xingchen had spent the morning helping him, Ruan Zhao decided to treat him to a meal.

Qi Xingchen immediately asked, “Where would you like to eat? Chinese or Western? I’ll make a reservation.”

Ruan Zhao gave him a puzzled look. “We’re eating at the cafeteria, of course.”

Qi Xingchen paused, surprised.

Ruan Zhao frowned. “What’s with that face? I’m treating you, and you’re still picky? If you don’t want to eat, forget it.”

“It’s not that,” Qi Xingchen said, a little taken aback. He simply hadn’t expected this.

Seeing his expression, Ruan Zhao knew exactly what he was thinking. “What’s wrong with the cafeteria? Stop with the stereotypes, okay? Our food is cheap and delicious.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. To cater to Omega students’ refined tastes, their cafeteria was practically a five-star restaurant. The meals were nutritious and incredibly flavorful—you could practically swallow your tongue in satisfaction. Every dish was a perfect blend of color, aroma, and taste, far exceeding what most restaurants outside could offer.

Based on their usual appetites, Ruan Zhao ordered four dishes to share. Qi Xingchen took a bite, and his expression changed completely. His movements remained elegant, his table manners perfect, but his eating speed noticeably increased. Before long, one plate was already empty.

Ruan Zhao had barely eaten a few bites of rice—his bowl was nearly full—when Qi Xingchen had already finished his and was heading back to the cafeteria counter for a refill. As he waited for him to return, Ruan Zhao asked, “See? I wasn’t wrong, was I? Isn’t it amazing?”

Qi Xingchen, still chewing, mumbled a “Mhm.” Only after swallowing did he reply seriously, “Yeah. It’s really good.”

Satisfied, Ruan Zhao picked up a few extra pieces of pork ribs and piled them onto Qi Xingchen’s already full bowl. “If it’s good, then eat more.” Let’s see if you ever dare to doubt me again.

By the time Ruan Zhao had eaten about a third of his rice, Qi Xingchen had gone for another refill. He didn’t pay much attention, continuing to eat his meal. But in just five minutes, Qi Xingchen had made three trips back and forth.

Eat, refill. Eat, refill. Eat, refill…

If it weren’t for his own diminishing portion, Ruan Zhao would have thought he was trapped in some kind of time loop.

Even the cafeteria lunch lady was getting tired of serving him. With a sigh, she swapped his regular bowl for a large stainless steel basin, scooping heaping spoonfuls of rice into it before pressing it down firmly. “That enough, kid? If not, come back for more!”

“This is enough. Thanks,” Qi Xingchen said.

Omegas typically had small appetites—they were meticulous about their diets, carefully counting calories to maintain their figures. Even if they weren’t full, they wouldn’t eat another bite once they reached their limit. This was the first time the lunch lady had seen someone from the Omega department eat so much.

Seeing his tall frame, the military academy combat uniform, and the subtle muscles in his arms, the lunch lady naturally assumed he was an Alpha. “Here with your partner?”

Qi Xingchen’s eyes flickered. Instinctively, he glanced at Ruan Zhao. He neither confirmed nor denied it.

Following his gaze, the lunch lady spotted Ruan Zhao. She paused, then, as if she’d made a grand discovery, exclaimed, “Oh my!” and gave him a big thumbs-up. “Kid, you’re really lucky!”

……

It wasn’t break time, so the cafeteria wasn’t crowded, just a few scattered students. Even so, Ruan Zhao could feel it—the way everyone’s gazes were suddenly fixated on them.

There was only one reason. Qi Xingchen’s massive rice basin was too eye-catching. Anyone entering the cafeteria, or mid-meal, couldn’t help but stare in shock, as if they had just witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Ruan Zhao was starting to regret not getting a private dining room. Despite that, he ordered a few more dishes for Qi Xingchen, something to accompany all that rice. Watching Qi Xingchen eat with such genuine enjoyment, Ruan Zhao subconsciously ate more than usual, too.

After a moment, he narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Does your school’s cafeteria not give you food or something?”

“It does,” Qi Xingchen replied. “All kinds of flavored nutrient solutions… and some kind of unidentifiable mush.”

Most students at the military academy were Alphas, and their daily lives were rough and rugged. The cafeteria wasn’t focused on fine dining—as long as it prevented starvation, it was considered sufficient. They even had the audacity to call it “mental fortitude training.” If you could handle suffering, they’d make sure you got plenty more of it.

“…Nutrient solutions?” Ruan Zhao echoed. He’d never tried them—only seen those brightly colored tubes on convenience store shelves—where you could buy a whole box for just ten credits. Curious, he asked, “Are they any good?”

“Terrible.”

“What about the mush?”

Qi Xingchen summed it up in two words: “Pig feed.”

Ruan Zhao couldn’t help but look at him with sympathy. No wonder he’d made that face when he heard they were eating in the cafeteria. Silently, he pushed his plate closer and softened his voice. “Go ahead, eat.”

For an Omega, Qi Xingchen had it too rough. His life at the military academy sounded like a prolonged, miserable survival test. Like a poor, neglected thing who hadn’t had a proper meal in ages.

……

Ruan Zhao had just finished his food when his communicator buzzed with an incoming call. He wasn’t planning to answer, but when he saw the caller ID—his brother, Ruan Ci—his usual lazy expression instantly turned serious. He raised a finger to his lips, signaling for Qi Xingchen to be quiet. Then, he pressed the accept button. “Hello…”

“Did you skip class?” No greetings, no pleasantries—just a cold, direct accusation.

Ruan Zhao’s lashes fluttered. Under his older brother’s scrutiny, he instinctively denied it. “No, I didn’t.”

“Drop the act. Your professor already called me.”

…Damn it! He hated teachers who ran straight to parents like this. Sure, skipping class was technically wrong. But those were floral arrangement classes, music appreciation, pastry-making… Did they really need his full attention? Besides, if the professor had a problem, they could have talked to him first. Going straight to his family—what was that about?!

Ruan Ci’s voice remained steady. “I don’t care if you skip class. But you weren’t using that free time to secretly meet up with those Alpha streamers you follow, were you?”

If there was one thing Ruan Ci worried about, it was his younger brother getting swept up in sweet talk by some Alpha charmer. So every now and then, he’d check in—just to make sure Ruan Zhao wasn’t plotting to meet any of them.

“No way!” This time, Ruan Zhao’s denial was much firmer. “I haven’t even talked to them in days!”

Ruan Ci let out a soft, skeptical hum. “You’d better not be lying.”

“If you don’t believe me, check my transaction history. See for yourself if I’ve spent a single credit on them.”

Thanks to his S-Class physique, Qi Xingchen’s sharp hearing caught every word between Ruan Zhao and Ruan Ci.

Even though they were talking about skipping class, their conversation held an effortless intimacy, making it difficult for an outsider to interject. Ruan Zhao’s tone had even softened, drawing out his words slightly, almost as if he were coaxing his older brother.

Qi Xingchen suddenly remembered something. That time… when Ruan Zhao mentioned his boyfriend. He’d always assumed it was a fabrication, something Ruan Zhao said to tease him. But now…

Almost instinctively, Qi Xingchen pulled Ruan Zhao’s plate a little closer. His voice was casual, but not too light. “Are you finished with this? If not, I’ll eat it.”

The person on the other end of the call was equally perceptive. They caught his voice immediately. “zhaozhao, is someone with you?”

Ruan Zhao shot Qi Xingchen a sharp glare, then quickly covered his communicator. Mouthing, “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?!”

Qi Xingchen lowered his gaze. “Then I won’t say anything else.”

Ruan Zhao was speechless. “Didn’t you just speak again?!”

A few seconds of silence followed. When Ruan Zhao didn’t respond, Ruan Ci’s voice turned noticeably colder. “Turn on your camera.”

“It’s just my classmate,” Ruan Zhao replied smoothly. “We’re eating in the cafeteria.”

To reassure his brother, he quickly snapped two photos of their table and sent them over. “It’s not convenient to video call here,” he added, trying to sound sincere. “But I swear, and I mean it—the person eating with me is definitely, definitely not an Alpha.”

Ruan Zhao said “definitely” twice—each time more earnest, each time more convincing than the last.

Since Qi Xingchen genuinely wasn’t an Alpha… Ruan Zhao wasn’t technically lying to his brother.

Ruan Ci opened the photo. He saw a slightly messy table, littered with empty plates. The architectural details confirmed it was indeed a cafeteria. Ruan Zhao hadn’t lied to him.

But still… Ruan Ci’s gaze lowered slightly. At the edge of the photo, he spotted a man’s hand—elegant fingers, distinct knuckles, clearly an adult male’s. He didn’t press the issue.

Instead, after a pause, he called his brother’s name, his words carrying a pointed undertone. “If you find someone you genuinely want to date, I won’t interfere. But those flashy Alpha streamers who sweet-talk you for your money? That is absolutely—not—happening. Got it?”

Ruan Zhao mumbled back, “Got it.”

Honestly, he had no idea how much trauma he’d inflicted on Ruan Ci for his brother to bring this up every time they spoke. To prove he’d changed—that he no longer fell for shady Alpha tricks—Ruan Zhao always played the perfect little brother. No matter what Ruan Ci said, he’d nod obediently and agree without hesitation.

“You’ve been behaving yourself lately.” Ruan Ci’s tone was unhurried as he added, “I’ll send you a little extra allowance next month.”

Turns out, playing the good boy really paid off—his brother’s habit of spoiling him had kicked in again. Not that Ruan Zhao needed the extra money—he could barely spend what he already had—but hearing about the bonus allowance made him light up.

“Hell yeah!”

To enhance Ruan Ci’s joy of giving, Ruan Zhao softened his voice and showered him with praise. “Brother, brother, you’re the best! Seriously, the greatest brother in the world! I love you so much—you’re my absolute favorite…”

[Insert dozens of variations expressing admiration and devotion here.]

Ruan Ci listened patiently for a while before finally cutting him off. “Alright, enough with the flattery. That forum situation? I’ve handled it. You can check when you have time. TThere should be a few apology letters waiting for you.”

The call ended. Ruan Zhao blinked, surprised, realizing Ruan Ci had been talking about Cheng Li’s slander campaign on the forums. That was… fast. He’d expected it to take much longer.

“Was that your brother just now?” A voice interrupted his thoughts—a hesitant yet curious male voice.

Snapping back to reality, Ruan Zhao gave a casual hum of acknowledgment.

“…Your actual, biological brother?”

Ruan Zhao was growing annoyed. “Obviously. Who else would it be?”

A pause. Then, in a voice laced with undisguised intrigue— “…So, you really do follow a bunch of Alpha streamers?”

Here’s a revised version, aiming for a more natural English flow and maintaining the original tone:

“Ruan Zhao’s expression stiffened for a second before he went on the offensive. “Why were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”

Qi Xingchen ignored that and asked instead, “So you actually spent money on them? Gave them gifts?”

Ruan Zhao’s lips pressed together, and a faint red crept up his ears. “Wait, you heard that too?!”

“Then when you said you wouldn’t fall for their tricks anymore… was that true?” With his relentless questioning, Qi Xingchen pushed Ruan Zhao to the edge.

“How is this any of your business?! You’re not my brother—why do you even care?”

Qi Xingchen’s voice dropped slightly. “So it was a lie?”

Ruan Zhao huffed, crossing his arms. “Real or fake, it’s none of your concern.”

Qi Xingchen let out a flat “Oh.” He blinked, feeling a slight discomfort in his eyes. Instinctively, he reached up to remove his colored contacts.

Ruan Zhao noticed immediately and grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Why take them out? They look good on you.”

Qi Xingchen tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “The reason you told me to wear black contacts—was it because one of those Alphas you liked also had black eyes?”

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