Axolotl Translations

Sticky warmth spilled from between their lips, thin, translucent strings of saliva sliding down the corner of his mouth, too much to swallow in time.

The sweetness of lily-of-the-valley mixed with the cool bite of mint, intoxicating, muddling the senses—drowning out logic in the depths of this dangerous, addictive kiss.

Qi Xingchen pulled back slightly. His breathing was heavy, ragged, but he still forced himself to hold back, waiting—waiting for the answer he wanted to hear. He asked again, stubbornly. “Aren’t we meant for each other?”

Ruan Zhao was completely kiss-drunk. His pale, glassy eyes were out of focus, staring blankly at the man in front of him. Just a little more stimulation, and tears began to well up, spill over—his flushed eyes filled with a fragile, misty sheen.

He looked completely ravaged. His lips hung slightly open, dazed, unaware. And between the faint parting of his lips, the swollen tip of his tongue—kissed raw—was fully exposed.

A few seconds passed. Finally, he started regaining his senses. He had barely spat out a single syllable before being cut off again.

“Think before you answer.” Qi Xingchen’s fingers gently wiped away the dampness at the corner of his lips, his touch light, teasing, pressing down on the plump, swollen flesh—his voice was soft. Deceptively gentle. Yet it carried the weight of a threat. “Otherwise, I’ll just have to kiss you again.”

Ruan Zhao’s eyes widened in shock.

“…?!”

How could someone be this unbearable?! Using this as a threat?!

Ruan Zhao ran his tongue lightly over his lips, testing the pain. A sharp sting spread across the tender skin. Even the warmth of his own breath burned, stinging enough to make his brows furrow slightly.

Ruan Zhao’s skin was delicate, his lips even more so. Qi Xingchen always kissed him hard, again and again, biting, licking, never leaving an inch untouched—even the skin around his lips was rubbed raw from the friction. His lips, already battered and bruised, could no longer handle such rough treatment. He had no choice but to compromise.

“Think whatever you want.”

Qi Xingchen still didn’t look fully satisfied. He tilted his head slightly—then bit down on the swollen bead of Ruan Zhao’s lower lip. The soft, reddened flesh—bright, flushed, helplessly sensitive—he barely sucked on it, just the lightest pull—and yet, Ruan Zhao’s body trembled uncontrollably. He really couldn’t take any more.

Almost panicked, his voice came out in muffled, shaky fragments. “Y-yes. We… we’re m-meant to be.”

Only then did Qi Xingchen let him go. He reached up, gently wiping away the tears clinging to the corners of Ruan Zhao’s eyes. His gaze lingered on his damp fingertips, then fell to the boy’s flushed, tear-stained face. Red-rimmed eyes. A reddened nose. And his lips—kiss-swollen, tender, trembling.

Ruan Zhao’s pale fingers clung to the front of his shirt, his knuckles still faintly trembling. He looked utterly wrecked. Like a bullied little thing—a far cry from the boy who had just yanked him down, demanding a kiss with such arrogance.

Qi Xingchen exhaled softly. “Crying over just a kiss?” His voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Then what if—”

His words cut off. But his thoughts ran wild. What if… he was pinned down instead? What if he was held so deep, so thoroughly, so completely—that even crying became impossible? Only the broken sound of sobs and muffled whimpers escaping from his swollen, parted lips…

Qi Xingchen’s throat tightened. His unspoken words were swallowed back, tangled with the desire pressing deep in his chest.

His pupils contracted slightly. Heat rushed through his body, surging toward a single point—even his breathing had become noticeably unsteady.

But… no. Not yet. He still couldn’t be sure if Ruan Zhao’s feelings for him were genuine, or if he was just passing time with him—a temporary distraction while his real boyfriend was away. Even something as simple as a kiss, something most couples took for granted—he had to ask for permission first.

He was afraid. Afraid that if he did something wrong, if he pushed too far—Ruan Zhao would get angry, would end everything, would walk away and terminate the arrangement between them. Anything beyond this… was just a fantasy. Something he couldn’t allow himself to act on.

Because he had already fallen too deep. Completely, utterly, hopelessly ensnared in this relationship. Even forcing Ruan Zhao to say they were meant for each other—did nothing to ease the anxiety clawing at his chest.

The heat in the air slowly faded. Qi Xingchen reached for a fresh pheromone-blocking patch, gently pressing it over Ruan Zhao’s scent glands. The sweet fragrance was sealed away. His mind, once hazy, began to clear. He pulled back the curtains, letting the sunlight spill into the room. Bright, golden, warm.

Ruan Zhao winced, his eyes stinging from the sudden light. With a grumble, he reached out, wrapping his arms around Qi Xingchen’s waist—burying his face against his chest, refusing to look up.

“Zhaozhao.” Qi Xingchen softened his voice, coaxing him. “Look at me.”

Ruan Zhao mumbled. “What’s there to look at?” He saw him every day, already sick of it. But despite his words, he slowly, reluctantly, lifted his head—meeting Qi Xingchen’s gaze.

There was nothing flawed about his face. It was perfect. Every feature was precisely aligned with Ruan Zhao’s sense of beauty. Even at this close distance, not a single imperfection could be found.

Ruan Zhao’s gaze drifted—from those sharp, narrow eyes, down to his straight, well-defined nose, before settling on his thin lips. A faint bite mark caught his attention, a mark he had left there just moments ago. His face heated up, but he kept his expression calm, feigning nonchalance as he asked, “I’ve looked. So? What now?”

Qi Xingchen’s lips curved slightly. “Did you notice anything different about me today?”

Different? Ruan Zhao frowned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He scanned Qi Xingchen from head to toe, once, twice—but found nothing out of the ordinary. Completely clueless as to what he was referring to.

“You…” He deliberately drew out the word, letting it hang in the air. Qi Xingchen’s gaze subtly tensed, waiting. Then, with deliberate slowness, Ruan Zhao continued—”You don’t look any different to me.”

Maybe it was easier to see things from the outside. Because at that moment, the system suddenly chimed in—

[Zhaozhao! It’s his eyes!]

For once, there was a hint of excitement in its voice. Because this time, it had figured it out first.

[He’s not wearing colored contacts today!]

Ruan Zhao froze for a second. His gaze locked onto Qi Xingchen’s eyes. A brilliant blue. Like the vast, endless ocean—like the clear, cloudless sky. Perhaps because he had been staring for too long, the shade of blue began to shift—from a light, almost translucent hue to a deep, mesmerizing navy. Not quite black—but something else entirely.

“You see it now?”

Ruan Zhao let out a muffled hum. “Yeah, I see it.”

His emotions were… complicated.

A difference this obvious—logically, he should have noticed it right away. After all, it was these very eyes that had made him view Qi Xingchen differently from the start. But now… if the system hadn’t pointed it out, he might not have noticed at all.

What’s wrong with me? His brows furrowed slightly. He pressed a hand over his chest. His heartbeat was out of control. Too fast. Like a tiny rabbit, restless and frantic, thumping against his ribs. Loud. Impossible to ignore. In the absolute silence of the room, it felt deafening.

Ruan Zhao had a sinking suspicion—Qi Xingchen could hear his heart pounding. Like something had slipped out of his control—changing, shifting, before he could even realize it.

His lips parted. “You—”

“Zhaozhao.” Qi Xingchen cut him off. “Can I… stop wearing these contacts from now on?”

Ruan Zhao’s first instinct was to say no. But before he could, Qi Xingchen added, “Every time I put them in, my eyes get red and swollen. It takes at least half an hour just to get them in—”

“And taking them out? Even worse. My eyes won’t stop tearing up.”

Ruan Zhao pressed his lips together. Then, without a hint of sympathy, said: “That’s because you’re an idiot.”

Qi Xingchen smiled, unconcerned. “I guess I’m not very smart. No matter how many times I try, I still can’t get the hang of it.” He watched Ruan Zhao carefully, gauging his expression. Then, testing the waters, he added, “But if you really prefer black eyes, I can learn. I’ll follow the tutorial videos properly. Maybe if I practice enough, I’ll stop hurting myself.”

A pause.

Ruan Zhao remained silent. Qi Xingchen assumed he wasn’t going to answer—that his silence was as good as agreement. Until—

“Forget it.” The boy’s lashes lowered, making it impossible to tell whether he was pleased or displeased. “If you don’t want to wear them, then don’t.”

A beat. “You…” He hesitated, then spoke slowly, as if picking each word with care. “…don’t look too bad like this.”

There was no longer a need to search for a familiar shadow in someone else’s eyes. Even in the past few days, he’d barely thought about his ex-boyfriend. His fingers brushed lightly over his swollen lips.

Qi Xingchen had kissed him so fiercely, yet—he wasn’t angry. Not at him. Not at all.

Maybe… he had already moved on.

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