Axolotl Translations

The system materialized beside Ruan Zhao, perceptive as ever, and immediately got to work—kneading his shoulders, pressing gently against his back—doing its best to help him relax.

Seeing its host sighing one moment and frowning the next, clearly troubled, it pondered for a moment before offering a suggestion.

[Why don’t you just break up with him, Zhaozhao?]

[That way, your brother will be happy, you won’t have to be caught in the middle anymore, and you’ll be happier too.]

Of course, Qi Xingchen probably wouldn’t be happy. But two people’s happiness obviously outweighed one person’s, so his feelings weren’t exactly a priority.

Ruan Zhao froze. [Break up?] He pressed his lips together and asked, [What about the mission?]

[The mission can be completed in another way. And even if you don’t complete it, that’s fine. We can just work harder in the next world.]

Ruan Zhao frowned slightly, sensing something off. [That’s not like you. Weren’t you always so worried about the mission? Back when Qi Xingchen and I had that argument, you were practically flying around in a panic, terrified that a failed mission would cost you points.]

The system responded seriously, [That was then. This is now.]

To the system, Ruan Zhao’s emotions were the most important thing. If the mission was making him unhappy, then the mission could take a backseat.

[So… do you want to break up with him?]

Ruan Zhao lowered his gaze, silent for a long time. He seemed torn—his pale fingers absently tugging at the fur collar of the sofa. Before long, the fabric was completely ruffled.

The system possessed intelligence on par with humans, but it still didn’t fully understand the complexities of human emotions. However, after spending so much time with Ruan Zhao, it had learned to read his emotions—at least to some extent.

[Zhaozhao, you don’t want to, do you?]

Ruan Zhao’s fingers unconsciously tightened, tugging out a few more strands of fur. The loose fluff drifted through the air, triggering a sneezing fit. He quickly withdrew his hand, rubbing his reddened nose. [It’s not that I don’t want to… I just don’t like the idea of giving up halfway.]

The system analyzed his response for a moment. [Does that mean… you like him?]

Ruan Zhao froze for a second, then hurriedly denied it. [I don’t. I don’t like him. Not even a little.] He insisted. [He’s just a stand-in for my boyfriend. That’s all.]

[But earlier, you told your brother that he was your boyfriend.]

Ruan Zhao had his reasons. [I couldn’t exactly tell my brother that I’m a scummy Omega who paid someone to be my stand-in.]

Excuses. Nothing but excuses.

Ruan Ci had always seen Ruan Zhao through rose-colored lenses. No matter what he did, his brother wouldn’t suddenly think any less of him.

After all, he used to spend outrageous amounts of money on Alpha streamers, kept dozens of their contacts saved in his terminal, and chatted with them daily. When he was in a good mood, he even sent them money—one after another. Honestly, that wasn’t much different from keeping them.

But in Ruan Ci’s eyes, there was nothing wrong with Ruan Zhao. To him, his younger brother had always been a pure-hearted, soft, and sweet person—easily deceived, easily swayed, a delicate little flower that could be led astray. It was those Alphas who lacked self-restraint—too reckless, too seductive. That was the only reason his innocent little brother had fallen for their tricks.

Even if he found out about Ruan Zhao’s arrangement with Qi Xingchen—the whole stand-in and sugar baby situation—he would still believe that the problem lay with Qi Xingchen. It had to be Qi Xingchen’s fault. He must have led his little brother astray. Ruan Zhao must have been forced into it, pressured, left with no choice.

The system hesitated. [But… I don’t think your brother would mind.]

[Enough, System,] Ruan Zhao cut in. [Let’s drop it. I have my own pace.]

Alright then. Pacing Ruan Zhao. The system obediently shut up.

……

Because he had promised Qi Xingchen he would visit him at the academy, Ruan Zhao stayed true to his word. The next day, right after class, he headed straight for the military school.

The academy was packed with Alphas. Each one of them towered over Ruan Zhao—some of them had arms thicker than his thighs. Broad, powerful frames. Just walking past them felt like being swallowed by a moving mountain.

Ruan Zhao was dressed in a soft, milky-white short-sleeve shirt, paired with matching shorts that reached just two centimeters past his knees. A small portion of his legs was exposed—long, slender, and delicately toned. His skin was as white and smooth as cooled milk, gleaming under the sunlight.

Standing amidst the towering Alphas, Ruan Zhao looked like a little lamb who had wandered into a wolf pack.

Delicate, slender, fragile.

It felt like he could be devoured at any moment. Countless gazes clung to him—some so blatant that even people walking ahead of him would turn their heads, staring with undisguised curiosity.

Even though there was no real malice in their eyes, Ruan Zhao still felt uneasy. His steps nearly faltered—his arms and legs almost moving in sync like an awkward rookie.

After turning down more than a dozen attempts at conversation, Qi Xingchen finally arrived.

It seemed like he had run the whole way. Sweat dotted his forehead, dampening his messy bangs. His breath was slightly uneven. He stepped in front of Ruan Zhao, shielding him from all the lingering stares.

At the same time, his fingers curled tightly around Ruan Zhao’s, interlocking their hands in a firm grip—possessive, unmistakable. It was as if he was sending a silent message to everyone watching: This one’s mine. Don’t even think about it.

Seeing them standing together, their hands clasped so intimately—fingers fully entwined—many of the Alphas visibly deflated and turned away in disappointment. Some were so disheartened that their sighs could be heard loud and clear. One particular Alpha sighed so dramatically that Ruan Zhao couldn’t help but glance in his direction… but before he could even register the guy’s face—

“Zhaozhao.” Qi Xingchen’s voice called him back.

Ruan Zhao’s attention instantly snapped away from the stranger. He turned back to Qi Xingchen, looking up at him. “What?”

“I still have one more class. After that, I can take you out,” Qi Xingchen said.

Ruan Zhao nodded. “Alright. Then you go to class, and I’ll head back first.”

“No.” Qi Xingchen paused, then clarified, “I mean, you can come with me.”

Ruan Zhao hesitated. “But… I’m not a student here.”

“It’s fine. The teacher won’t mind. Just sit next to me.”

“…Oh.”

The military academy had a completely different atmosphere from the Omega Institute. Everything was minimalist—there was not a single unnecessary decoration in sight. The entire classroom felt cold and sterile, made almost entirely of metal. The walls were a sleek silver-white, while the floors were a dark alloy that echoed with every step. Even the desks and chairs were metal.

According to Qi Xingchen, it was built this way to prevent damage. Ruan Zhao didn’t quite get it. How could anyone possibly break a desk and chair just by sitting still and listening to a lecture?

Qi Xingchen led him to the back corner of the classroom, where they sat in the very last row. Surrounded on all sides, they were completely hidden from view. Even if they were to secretly mess around, no one would notice.

The lecture was an open class, covering military strategy and battle planning. Curious, Ruan Zhao flipped through the textbook.

He understood absolutely nothing. Qi Xingchen, meanwhile, casually took his fingers, playing with them idly in his palm—gently pressing the base of his fingers one moment, rubbing his palm the next, then holding their hands together to compare sizes.

“Stop messing around.” Ruan Zhao pulled his hand back, a little impatient, though the tips of his ears flushed red. “Can you focus on the lecture?”

Qi Xingchen didn’t push further. Instead, in a soft, almost hesitant voice, he called his name. “Zhaozhao.”

“Hm?” Ruan Zhao was still flipping through the textbook. He didn’t really understand much, but it was a decent way to pass the time.

“I’m really happy you came to see me.”

Ruan Zhao glanced at him, confused. “Didn’t I promise you yesterday? I’m not the kind of person who goes back on my word.”

Qi Xingchen murmured, “Your brother doesn’t seem to like me very much. I thought you might listen to him and cut ties with me.”

“My brother doesn’t like anyone who gets close to me.” Ruan Zhao flipped to the next page. “You’re not the first, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

Qi Xingchen: “…”

Ruan Zhao continued, “Besides, I transferred a lot of money to you.” A full 100,000 star coins. Given this world’s cost of living, that was enough for several months of extravagant spending. “If I just broke things off with you now, wouldn’t I be at a huge loss?”

Qi Xingchen: “…” So that’s all you care about? Money? Not me?

The open lecture lasted a full hour and a half. Halfway through, Ruan Zhao regretted his decision. There were simply too many Alphas in the room. The enclosed space had zero ventilation, and with all their pheromones mixing together, the air was heavy, thick, and overwhelmingly intense.

Ruan Zhao had nearly emptied an entire bottle of freshener spray, but it still wasn’t helping. His throat burned, and he had the constant urge to cough.

“Qi Xingchen, take off your jacket and give it to me,” he said, his tone brooking no refusal.

Qi Xingchen immediately unbuttoned his uniform jacket and draped it over Ruan Zhao’s shoulders.

Ruan Zhao took a deep breath. All he could smell was the clean scent of detergent. No mint. No crisp winter air. He leaned in closer to Qi Xingchen, lowering his voice to a whisper only the two of them could hear.

“Where’s your pheromone?”

The beautiful Omega’s eyes were red, his gaze slightly damp, and his voice carried a faint trace of grievance. The overwhelming scent of strange Alphas was suffocating, and without his boyfriend’s pheromones to soothe him, he was very unhappy.

Qi Xingchen’s eyes darkened with emotion. Even though he was also an Omega, due to a physical condition, he had always been insensitive to the scent of pheromones. He had completely overlooked how uncomfortable Ruan Zhao must feel, trapped between so many Alphas. He leaned in as well, lips brushing Ruan Zhao’s ear as he murmured:

“I can’t… there are too many people here.”

His rough fingertips traced along the delicate corner of Ruan Zhao’s eye before pressing the lightest of kisses there. Then, in a softer voice, he coaxed: “Once we leave, I’ll let you smell all you want.”

Ruan Zhao silently wrapped the jacket tighter around himself. Maybe it was just psychological, but after putting on Qi Xingchen’s jacket, he really did feel a little better. Only a little. Because he still couldn’t stop sneezing.

“Still feeling bad?”

Ruan Zhao’s eyes were red as he nodded. “It’s awful. I feel like I’m choking to death.”

That was… definitely an exaggeration.

But he really was spoiled. Even the slightest unpleasant smell was unbearable to him. A tiny bit of discomfort? He had to show ten times more than he actually felt.

Qi Xingchen brushed his fingers over Ruan Zhao’s eyes again, his touch filled with indulgence and fond concern.

One minute later, the two of them quietly slipped out through the back door. Both were experts at ditching class—they could do it so seamlessly that no one would notice.

The empty hallway echoed with nothing but the sound of their footsteps. But the academy was filled with surveillance cameras, not exactly an ideal place for comforting one’s partner.

Qi Xingchen grabbed Ruan Zhao’s hand and led him back to his dorm. After shutting the door, he carefully locked it with his key.

Ruan Zhao was still wrapped in Qi Xingchen’s jacket, his large, beautiful eyes curiously scanning the room, completely unaware of just how dangerous his situation was.

“Do you live here alone?”

“Yeah, it’s a single dorm.”

Though calling it a dorm wasn’t entirely accurate. It looked more like a small private apartment—a one-bedroom layout with a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Furnished with all the basic necessities, it was spacious, clean, and tidy—not even a single strand of hair on the spotless floor.

Suddenly, the room dimmed. Qi Xingchen had just pulled the curtains shut.

Ruan Zhao blinked in confusion. “Why’d you close the curtains?”

“…”

“What do you think?” A big, bold question mark practically popped up over Ruan Zhao’s head.

Qi Xingchen reminded him, his voice low: “You were the one who asked for my pheromones back in class.”

Ruan Zhao paused, then quickly said: “I don’t want them anymore.”

Qi Xingchen’s voice dropped an octave, an uncharacteristic firmness creeping in: “You can’t just take whatever you want whenever you feel like it… and toss it away when you don’t. The world doesn’t work that way.”

---

Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter