Axolotl Translations

“Morning, Xiao Gu! Feeling any better today?”

It was a bright, sunny morning. Freshly washed, Gu Mengran stepped out of his room and bumped straight into Zheng Yijie, who was casually heading towards the cockpit, a Coke in hand. He looked like he’d just hit the jackpot, his face lit up with a huge grin.

Hearing the cheerful greeting, Gu Mengran simply replied, “Better.” But after a quick once-over, he raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re awfully chipper. Got some good news?”

That was exactly the opening Zheng Yijie was waiting for. He stood on tiptoe to pat Gu Mengran’s shoulder, a smug grin spreading across his face. “As of today, I’m officially on duty. You can now address me as Captain Zheng.”

“On duty? Have you even been training for a full week?” Gu Mengran asked.

Zheng Yijie arched an eyebrow and let out a smug little hum. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about grown-up stuff. Grandpa Meng said he’s taking charge now and told you to stop stressing so much.”

Gu Mengran: …Damn, Grandpa moves fast.

Handing Windwing over to a newbie wasn’t exactly comforting, but if his grandfather had personally overseen Zheng Yijie’s training and was now entrusting him with a shift, it was clearly a calculated move.

After a moment’s hesitation, Gu Mengran decided against arguing. Instead, he met Zheng Yijie’s eyes seriously and said, “Stay sharp. No daydreaming, no nodding off. Just follow Juqing 5 and keep it steady.”

Hearing that, Zheng Yijie also dropped his usual playful demeanor. He gave a firm nod. “Got it. Taking the helm of Windwing means taking responsibility for all our lives. I won’t let you down.”

Gu Mengran hummed in acknowledgment and lifted his foot to head toward the dining area.

“Hold up, Gu Mengran.”

Just as he was about to step away, Zheng Yijie called him back.

Puzzled, Gu Mengran turned around. Zheng Yijie leaned in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, and whispered conspiratorially, “Liang Zhao came to see you last night, didn’t he?”

“Wouldn’t know. I was asleep,” Gu Mengran replied, his expression unchanged.

Zheng Yijie smirked knowingly, waggling his eyebrows. “I got up for a midnight snack and ran into him. He asked me to cover his shift in the cockpit, said he had something to do. And I’ve got a feeling… he snuck off to see you.”

His voice dropped on those last few words, making the whole thing sound oddly suspicious. Something about it felt off, but Gu Mengran couldn’t quite put his finger on it. After a brief pause, he countered, “I was sick. What’s so strange about him checking on me?”

“If he’s willing to ditch his shift just to see you, what does that tell you? It means he cares! You matter to him!” Zheng Yijie half-squinted, his expression exasperated, like a teacher scolding a particularly dense student.

Gu Mengran blinked, confused. “What do you mean? My brother—”

“Brother, my ass!” Zheng Yijie cut him off, grinning meaningfully. “Come on, drop the act. Not only do I know you two aren’t actually brothers, but I also know you’ve got feelings for him.”

He shot Gu Mengran a knowing look—the kind that needed no further explanation.

Gu Mengran got the message loud and clear. He smiled and met Zheng Yijie’s gaze head-on. “Mm. So what if you know?”

“Whoa, just like that? No denial?” Zheng Yijie, who had braced himself for a drawn-out argument, was completely thrown off balance. His smug confidence melted into sheer disbelief. “Wait, didn’t Grandpa Meng say you were all stubborn and in denial? How come you’re just… admitting it like that?”

Instead of answering, Gu Mengran calmly asked, “And you still dared to bring it up?”

“I—I was just trying to help!” Zheng Yijie defended himself righteously.

“Got it. I appreciate the concern, but stay out of grown-up business. Go play or something.”

With that, Gu Mengran turned and left, leaving a thoroughly bewildered Zheng Yijie behind.

If Zheng Yijie had come to him with this kind of nonsense yesterday, Gu Mengran might have snapped. It was one thing for his grandfather to tease him, but if Zheng Yijie had dared to rub salt in the wound, he wouldn’t have gotten a friendly response.

But today was different. Even though Gu Mengran was still a little dazed, it didn’t stop him from being in a good mood.

That said… his grandfather was really pushing it.

Was this the kind of thing you just went around telling people?

Muttering his complaints internally, Gu Mengran stepped into the dining room, where his grandfather was sitting at the table, munching on corn with pickled vegetables. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. The steaming-hot corn on the table remained untouched as he simply stared at the old man.

Halfway through his corn, Grandpa Meng finally sensed something was amiss. He paused mid-chew, cheeks puffed out, and squinted at Gu Mengran. “What are you looking at? Lost your appetite? Want me to make you some porridge instead?”

His heart softened in an instant. Gu Mengran sighed helplessly, looking at his grandfather with mild resentment. “Grandpa, I told you not to go blabbing. Why did you have to tell Zheng Yijie about me and Liang Zhao?”

Grandpa Meng froze for a second before hastily wiping his mouth, looking more than a little guilty. “Uh… I wasn’t blabbing. He—he figured it out on his own.”

“No way. He always thought Liang Zhao was my brother.”

“”hem.” Grandpa Meng cleared his throat awkwardly before mumbling, “Well… he asked me what kind of relationship you two had, so I told him to guess. And, uh, he straight-up said you were a couple. I didn’t want him misunderstanding, so I just… clarified a little.”

“How exactly did you ‘explain’ things in a way that made me sound like I’m harboring unrequited feelings for Liang Zhao? From ‘a couple’ to ‘one-sided love’—what’s the difference? Are you sure you didn’t just start gossiping with him?” Gu Mengran rubbed his temples, a mix of laughter and frustration swirling within him.

People always seemed to find things to do when they were uncomfortable. Grandpa Meng set down his corn, unscrewed the lid of his thermos, and took slow, deliberate sips of tea. In the midst of this newfound busyness, he still managed to squeeze in a defense. “Gossip? What gossip? That kid’s brain doesn’t work like a normal person’s. You say one sentence, and he figures out the rest on his own.”

Gu Mengran folded his arms and watched his grandfather’s suspiciously frantic movements. “Oh, so now it’s his fault for being too smart? You could’ve just kept quiet, you know—”

“Oh wow, it’s already nine-thirty! I need to check on the cockpit.”

In one swift motion, Grandpa Meng grabbed his thermos in one hand and his corn in the other, then made a hasty retreat—like he was fleeing for his life.

Gu Mengran: “Hey!”

The new shift had arrived, meaning the night shift would be back soon. After washing his hands in the kitchen, Gu Mengran returned to the dining table, picked up a boiled corn from the basket, and started plucking off kernels one by one to eat.

He had only gotten through two rows when Liang Zhao returned.

Liang Zhao also headed to the kitchen first to wash his hands before taking the seat across from Gu Mengran—the very same spot Grandpa Meng had just vacated.

“Has your fever gone down? Do you still feel unwell anywhere?”

Ignoring the food on the table, Liang Zhao’s gaze remained locked on Gu Mengran, open and direct, his concern evident.

Gu Mengran’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second before he casually popped another corn kernel into his mouth. He nodded slightly and said, “I think there’s still a little left, but I can’t really tell. Wanna check?”

If Liang Zhao was going to be this straightforward, then fine. He’d match his energy. Gu Mengran leaned forward slightly, just enough to make it easy for Liang Zhao to reach out and touch.

Across the table, Liang Zhao’s usually calm gaze flickered with a trace of surprise before he quickly looked away. “I just washed my hands, they’re still wet. Let me grab the thermometer—”

“No need for the trouble. It’s probably just a mild fever. I’ll take some medicine later.” Gu Mengran’s lips curved slightly as he picked up a boiled corn and passed it over. “Eat first. You stayed up all night—you must be exhausted.”

Liang Zhao didn’t argue. He took the corn and started eating slowly.

But Gu Mengran had no intention of letting him off that easily. Once Liang Zhao had eaten about half, just as he seemed to be settling into his meal, Gu Mengran suddenly looked up as if he’d just remembered something, casually remarking, “Oh, right. Zheng Yijie mentioned you came to see me last night?”

Liang Zhao visibly froze, if only for a second. He swallowed his food and replied evenly, “Yeah, I came by in the middle of the night. You were already asleep. I was worried you still had a fever, so I checked your temperature.”

“Is that so?” Gu Mengran raised an eyebrow, staring straight at him. “Just took my temperature?”

Liang Zhao averted his gaze, lowering his eyes as he gave a muffled, “Mm.”

Hiding his growing smile behind his corn, Gu Mengran mumbled, “That’s funny… because I seem to remember—”

But before he could finish, Liang Zhao, seemingly deaf to his words, lowered his gaze further and spoke as if changing the subject entirely: “The route ahead is getting wider, and the fuel for Juqing 5 is ready. After discussion, we’ve decided to wait until nightfall, when it’s cooler, to transfer some diesel to Windwing.”

That was the most abrupt topic change Gu Mengran had ever witnessed. He nearly burst out laughing.

He had never seen Liang Zhao avoid a question so deliberately. Finding it amusing, he lifted his chin and teased, “I’m still sick, you know. Grandpa said I’m on leave, so I’m not handling work right now. Let’s talk about last night instead. Last night, I—”

“Mengran.”

Determined to cut him off, Liang Zhao suddenly called his name with uncharacteristic seriousness. Those usually composed, emotionless eyes now held a rare, indescribable awkwardness.

Gu Mengran knew when to stop. He wasn’t ready to shatter this fragile, dreamlike illusion just yet. It wasn’t his intention to back Liang Zhao into a corner, either. With a low chuckle, he tilted his head, looking at him with feigned innocence. “Did you forget about the cooling patch? If it wasn’t you, then who put it on me?”

The tension hanging over the dining room gradually dissolved. Liang Zhao visibly relaxed, the furrow between his brows easing as he met Gu Mengran’s gaze with a complex expression.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The corn on the table had nearly gone cold when Liang Zhao finally parted his lips, about to say something—only to be interrupted by a sudden burst of static from behind him.

The intercom crackled to life, followed by Zheng Yijie’s slightly panicked voice. “Liang Zhao! Grandpa Meng! There’s something happening on the river—come to the bridge, quick!”

Personal matters would have to wait. Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao shot to their feet and strode toward the bridge.

By the time they arrived, the old man was already there, standing alone by the window, staring out at the river with an expression far more serious than usual.

The sun was up now, no longer the pitch-black darkness of night. Gu Mengran walked straight to the window, glancing outside with casual ease—only to immediately understand the problem.

The Windwing was still sailing, its submerged propellers churning at full speed. The once-calm river surface roiled violently, waves cresting and crashing in its wake. All around the ship, the water was a dazzling white.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But when he shifted his gaze toward the riverbank, his expression changed. There, in the still waters untouched by the propellers, the surface was just as white—only this time, it wasn’t waves.

It wasn’t sunlight reflecting off the water, either. It was thousands upon thousands of dead fish, floating belly-up, densely packed, stretching across the river as far as the eye could see. Even from behind the glass, the stench was overwhelming.

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