Axolotl Translations

“Gu Mengran… don’t tell me—you’re actually reborn?”

The voice, filled with curiosity yet laced with certainty, echoed in the quiet hallway. Gu Mengran’s mind buzzed as if someone had struck a gong inside his skull. For a brief moment, even his breath hitched.

Reborn…

Leave it to a web novelist with an overactive imagination to guess the truth so casually.

Could he admit it? Of course not!

Gu Mengran forced himself to stay calm, racking his brain for a way to respond.

Two minutes passed. Still no plan. His sluggish, rusted brain was barely grinding into motion when a terrifying realization struck him—he had been silent way too long.

What would a normal person say upon hearing the word reborn? Shouldn’t he have blurted out something like, “What the hell are you talking about?” right away? Maybe Zheng Yijie had only been throwing out a wild guess, but his own awkward hesitation made it look like he had something to hide.

By the time Gu Mengran caught on, it was already too late. Zheng Yijie’s eyes were practically sparkling, his whole body visibly brimming with excitement. His tone was eager as he continued, “So I was right, wasn’t I? In your past life, you accidentally gained a space ability but got betrayed and killed. Now that you’ve been given a second chance, you’re determined to take back what’s rightfully—”

“What kind of nonsense is that? Have you been writing too many novels and lost your grip on reality?” Gu Mengran shot him a glare, his expression dark as he cut him off.

With that, he turned to leave, but Zheng Yijie suddenly grabbed his arm.

Seeing Gu Mengran’s displeased expression, Zheng Yijie quickly let go and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Then, in an unexpectedly serious tone, he asked, “No jokes this time. Be honest—have you actually lived through the apocalypse once, died unexpectedly, and come back?”

Gu Mengran: …

Some people just had brains wired differently. How could anyone accept something so beyond their understanding this easily? The scariest part was—Zheng Yijie kept guessing right.

Before Gu Mengran could respond, Zheng Yijie continued rambling to himself, “Honestly, I’ve been skeptical about the whole powers thing for a while now. Because… you guys slipped up! I kept going on and on about precognition, and you specifically told me that Liang Zhao’s ability was predicting disasters.”

Gu Mengran raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And then?”

“And then, back in Xinjing, you said Liang Zhao had seen the city in his dreams, which was how he knew there was a base there. But wait a second—wasn’t his ability supposed to be disaster prediction? What disaster happened in Xinjing? You guys never mentioned a thing.”

Zheng Yijie arched an eyebrow smugly, as if he had unraveled some great conspiracy. Then, as if he were on a roll, he continued, “And the way you guys talk is so inconsistent. Sometimes you seem to know things too clearly, and other times, it’s like you only have bits and pieces of information. It doesn’t feel like precognition at all. It feels more like… you’re describing a future you’ve already lived through, from a first-person perspective.”

“A super vivid dream could explain some of it, sure. But Gu Mengran, you’ve already exposed yourself. I’m almost certain you’re actually reborn—”

Before he could finish, Gu Mengran lunged forward and slapped a hand over his mouth.

They hadn’t gone that far—he could still hear his grandpa and Liang Zhao talking faintly in the background. Feeling a pang of guilt, Gu Mengran glanced back anxiously before lowering his voice. “For the love of—keep your voice down! Were you a loudspeaker in your past life?”

“Mmff?” Zheng Yijie’s eyes widened in shock. He pried Gu Mengran’s hand off his mouth, then copied his hushed tone. “Wait… your grandpa and your brother don’t know? I’m the first person to find out?”

Gu Mengran didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step back, nodded toward him, and said, “Keep going.”

“Keep going with what?”

“How did you even—”

“Oh, right! How exactly did you expose yourself?”

Zheng Yijie finally remembered what they were talking about. Grinning, he picked up where he left off. “The biggest giveaway was your reaction just now. You obviously weren’t expecting me to blurt out the exact right answer, and it scared the hell out of you. You froze for so long that even a blind man could tell something was off.”

“Second,” Zheng Yijie shot Gu Mengran a sneaky glance, dragging out his words, “I already told you in the car, didn’t I? I’ve been suspicious about your real age. You’re only nineteen—this is supposed to be your prime ‘goofing off’ years. But you? You’re so calm, so steady, so composed. There’s none of that youthful energy that college students are supposed to have—”

Gu Mengran frowned. “Are you saying I look old?”

“No, not old—just… mature! Like, way too mature. It’s like you’ve been through a lot—like, a lot a lot.”

Zheng Yijie finished his analysis in one breath, then lifted his chin proudly. “So? Am I right, or am I right? I’ve already laid everything out—so how about a little confession? Like, how many years did you survive in the apocalypse?”

Gu Mengran ignored him completely. Instead, he said something totally off-topic, “No wonder you could afford to buy a house in full.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off.

Zheng Yijie hurried to catch up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m saying you have an impressive imagination.”

……

Just as Liang Zhao had predicted, in the first half of the night, the Windwing successfully made it out of the wildfire zone without incident.

With the crisis averted, their troubles should’ve been over—but instead, new ones cropped up immediately. Even though they had left the wildfire behind, the unbearable heat refused to let up. It was stifling, suffocating, and absolutely miserable.

And then, just when they thought things couldn’t get worse, they did.

The relentless heat caused the engines to overheat, triggering an automatic safety shutdown. As a result, the Windwing was forced to a dead stop right in the middle of the route, stuck for two full days.

Life without power was absolute torture. But at least they no longer had to worry about stray embers drifting in and setting the ship on fire.

Fortunately, Gu Mengran had planned ahead. He pulled out a set of solar generators and installed the solar panels on the deck, getting at least some power running.

With the air conditioning back on, cool air circulated once more, lifting everyone’s spirits. Since there was no need to steer or keep watch, the four of them gathered in the kitchen—braising meat, pickling vegetables, and cooking up a spread of home-style dishes.

The next morning, Meng Gaoyang climbed out of the engine room, his forehead drenched in sweat. He returned to his room for a quick wash, then hurried to the dining area.

The kitchen door was wide open, letting the cool blast of the dedicated AC spill into the sweltering dining room, offering a refreshing hint of relief from the lingering heat.

Breakfast was already set on the table—pumpkin millet porridge, fluffy white steamed buns, and a side dish of spicy pickled long beans glistening in red oil.

Zheng Yijie had already started eating. Seeing Meng Gaoyang walk in, he hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of porridge and asked, “So, Grandpa Meng, has the engine room cooled down? Can we head out soon?”

“It’s cooled down, it’s cooled down. We’ll leave as soon as we finish breakfast.”

After washing his hands, Meng Gaoyang casually reached for a soft, pillowy steamed bun from the plate and took a hearty bite. The mild sweetness opened up his appetite. He pulled out a chair, ready to sit, when he caught a glimpse of Liang Zhao still busy in the kitchen.

Raising his voice, he called out, “Come eat, Liang Zhao! What are you still fussing over? Breakfast should be simple.”

“Coming, you guys start first.”

Hearing that, the old man didn’t say any more. He sat down and alternated between bites of bun and spicy long beans.

Two minutes later, Liang Zhao walked over, carefully carrying a large, double-handled ceramic bowl with a towel wrapped around it.

The moment the aroma hit, Zheng Yijie immediately put down his chopsticks and, ever so thoughtfully, grabbed a bamboo trivet, placing it in the center of the table.

The ceramic bowl landed steadily on the table, releasing a rich, mouthwatering aroma. The old man craned his neck for a look—steamed egg custard.

The eggs were perfectly smooth and delicate, their golden surface glistening under the light. A decorative knife cut had been made across the top, allowing the soy sauce and sesame oil to seep in, with a final sprinkle of chopped scallions adding a fresh touch. Just the sight of it was enough to make anyone’s stomach rumble.

Despite having already eaten a little, the old man suddenly felt hungry again. Instead of reaching for his chopsticks right away, he turned to Liang Zhao and gave him a big thumbs-up. “Not bad, not bad! You’ve really improved fast.”

Thinking back to when this kid could barely cook porridge without turning it into a paste, and now he could serve up a flawless steamed egg dish—his progress was impressive.

“I still only know the basics,” Liang Zhao said modestly, pulling out a chair to sit next to the old man. A faint smile played at his lips. “Mostly thanks to Mengran’s teaching.”

At the mention of Gu Mengran, Liang Zhao glanced around the room and asked, “Where is he?”

“He’s probably still asleep. That guy loves to sleep in—”

Mid-sentence, Zheng Yijie suddenly realized what he was saying and quickly changed course. “Haha, I mean, he’s not a morning person.”

The old man chuckled. “You sure know how to save his dignity. But for once, he actually didn’t sleep in today. I saw him head into the cockpit earlier.”

“This early? What’s he doing in the—”

“Guys! Guys!”

Speak of the devil. Before Zheng Yijie could finish his sentence, Gu Mengran’s voice echoed from the hallway.

He still sounded a bit far away, but in less than ten seconds, he burst into the dining area.

His forehead was damp with sweat, and his breathing was slightly unsteady, clearly from running over. But he didn’t seem the least bit tired. Barely catching his breath, he grinned mysteriously and announced, “I’ve got something to add to the menu—guess what it is?”

Cockpit. Extra dish. With those two clues, was there even a need to guess?

Zheng Yijie was just about to throw cold water on the excitement when Liang Zhao, sitting across from him, lifted his head and smiled at Gu Mengran. “What kind of dish? You’ve got to give us a hint.”

“Meat,” Gu Mengran said, his grin deepening.

Resting his chin on one hand, Liang Zhao pretended to think it over. After five seconds, he raised an eyebrow, sounding a little unsure. “Air-dried beef?”

“Congratulations, you got it right!”

Zheng Yijie: …You’re totally spoiling him.

After breakfast, the Windwing set sail once more.

Since a full week hadn’t passed yet, Zheng Yijie still wasn’t allowed to operate the ship solo. That meant today’s cockpit duty—once again—fell to him and the old man.

How many days had it been? He’d completely lost track. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be stuck on another shift with the old man. It wasn’t that the old guy was bad company, but the generation gap was just too realOther than seriously learning from him, there was nothing to talk about!

Once the anchor was pulled up and the ship was moving, there wasn’t much else to do. Zheng Yijie sprawled on the moon chair Gu Mengran had left behind, flipping through a notebook he’d already read to death. He let out a long, bored sigh.

He thought he’d been quiet, but the old man at the helm immediately turned to look at him. “What’s with the sighing? Something you don’t understand?”

“No—”

He had barely gotten one word out when it suddenly hit him—maybe he and the old man did have something to talk about. At the very least, they had a mutual acquaintance.

Like, say… Gu Mengran.

Clearing his throat, Zheng Yijie cut straight to the chase. “Grandpa Meng, are Mengran and Liang Zhao cousins or something? Did they grow up together?”

The old man paused mid-motion. “Cousins? Who told you they were cousins?”

Wait, they weren’t even related? And yet, they were this close? Zheng Yijie’s interest was instantly piqued. He planted his feet on the floor and sat up straight, intrigued. “But doesn’t Mengran call Liang Zhao ‘brother’ all the time?”

The old man chuckled. “That’s just for show when they’re around others. At home, they call each other by name plenty.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Zheng Yijie thought back for a moment, then pushed further. “Then what exactly is their relationship? They’re so close, they might as well be wearing the same pair of pants.”

Gossip was one thing, but the old man wasn’t about to casually spill his own grandson’s personal matters.

He picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, and deliberately kept him hanging. “Why don’t you take a guess?”

They were like brothers, inseparable, but not actually related… and their relationship was something that couldn’t just be explained outright…

Zheng Yijie, whose brain worked in mysterious ways, blurted, “Are they… a couple?”

“Pfft—”

A mouthful of tea sprayed all over the ship’s wheel. The old man didn’t even have time to wipe his mouth—he whipped his head around, looking utterly flustered. “How the hell did you guess that?!”

Seeing his reaction, Zheng Yijie shot up from his seat, eyes wide as saucers.

“Holy shit—it’s actually true?!”

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