Axolotl Translations

Antiviral granules, fever reducers, painkillers…

Their generous “Good Samaritan” had really gone all out. The bag was overflowing with medicine—not just a lot, but a huge variety. Two large bottles of disinfectant and medical alcohol were tucked in there too.

A large bag, and inside, two smaller ones. After sorting through the medicine, Gu Mengran peeled back layers of plastic to find even more supplies—this time, food.

Two boxes of compressed biscuits, a few packs of instant noodles, a small portion of rice…

But the real treasure? Dried fish. Lots of it. A faintly salty, fishy smell wafted up as soon as he opened the bag. Redtail perch, two fingers wide, palm-sized crucian carp and grass carp, massive silver carp and common carp as big as washbasins… plus a few fish Gu Mengran didn’t even recognize.

The fish had been expertly cleaned—gutted and deboned, the smaller ones neatly squeezed free of their innards. They were a deep golden color, crispy-looking, clearly sun-dried thoroughly. Almost deep-fried, in fact, with bits flaking off at the slightest touch.

The smell was a mix of fresh ocean brine and that uniquely pungent, almost cheesy aroma of dried fish. It was a little strange at first, but after a few whiffs… surprisingly appetizing.

Having a “big brother” looking out for them wasn’t so bad after all. At the very least, opening this mystery package had been a genuine delight.

In a great mood, Gu Mengran carefully divided the supplies into two portions and asked Zheng Yijie to take one to their new neighbors. Still, he remained cautious—he specifically told the Xu siblings not to eat the dried fish just yet.

Fengjin Lake was located in the upper tributaries and was relatively safe, but far too many fish had died in the river recently. Better safe than sorry. They weren’t exactly starving—no need to risk it over a bit of dried fish.

After stashing the rest of the supplies in his space, Gu Mengran gave the wheelhouse a thorough cleaning. Then, with a light step, he strolled down the corridor toward the kitchen.

Now that they were docked, night shifts were over—everyone was free to do as they pleased.

Grandpa and Liang Zhao had already taken over the kitchen, and even before Gu Mengran got close, the rich, mouthwatering aroma of meat filled the air.

Spicy, fragrant, and intensely savory.

He’d planned to head straight for the kitchen, but at the last second, he veered towards the living room. Hastily, he shut the windows and drew the curtains, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Having neighbors nearby meant extra caution. The kitchen wasn’t directly next to Heng Rong Sheng’s boat, but with their hulls practically touching—less than a meter apart—there was no telling if the smell would waft over through the living room.

Dinner was a feast: braised pork hock, sweet and sour ribs, stir-fried pork belly—not a single vegetarian dish in sight. There was even a pot of slow-braised pig’s trotters with green beans simmering on the stove.

Gu Mengran scanned the spread and stood there, stunned. Seizing the moment while Grandpa wasn’t looking, he snatched a rib with his bare hands and popped it into his mouth. Cheeks stuffed, he mumbled, “This is insane… What’s the occasion? Is it New Year’s or something?”

Meng Gaoyang stirred the pot with a ladle, not even bothering to turn around. “What occasion? Hah! Weren’t you the one who insisted on throwing a welcome-back meal for Liang Zhao?”

“Oh, right.” Gu Mengran quickly spat the bone into the trash, then glanced sheepishly at Liang Zhao. “I totally forgot. Today marks the end of our dear Brother Liang’s quarantine! In that case, let’s add a fish to the menu.”

Before Liang Zhao could respond, Grandpa shot him down. “You and your random whims! Isn’t all this food enough for you?”

“Oh, come on, Grandpa. Just one more dish! I really want fish.” Gu Mengran took a few steps forward, clinging to Grandpa’s arm and swaying back and forth, pouting like a spoiled child. “If we can’t finish it, we’ll just store it in my space. It won’t go bad.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! Fine, fine, go grab the fish—”

Halfway through his sentence, Grandpa suddenly set down his ladle and whipped his head around, his gaze flickering with suspicion as he looked at Gu Mengran.

“Wait a second. I remember when you were a kid, you got a fishbone stuck in your throat. Ever since then, you haven’t liked eating fish. What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

Instinctively, Gu Mengran glanced at Liang Zhao—only to find Liang Zhao looking right back at him.

Their eyes met.

Gu Mengran hurriedly looked away, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Oh, uh, you know… I was just unpacking that bag of supplies earlier, and there were a ton of dried fish in there. Gotta say, they smelled kinda funky—but also kinda good? Made me crave some fish all of a sudden.”

“Dried fish?” Grandpa’s eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he stretched out his hand. “Well, come on, bring it over! Steamed dried fish goes great with a drink.”

Smack!

Gu Mengran slapped Grandpa’s palm. “Are you seriously that hungry? We don’t even know if the water here is contaminated, and you’re already thinking about eating random stuff.”

With that, he took a step to the side and reached into the empty sink. Less than a second later, a fresh, flat-bodied Wuchang fish appeared, lying limp and lifeless in the basin.

Grandpa squinted at it, clearly unimpressed. “This thing? You want to steam this?”

“Mm-hmm.” Gu Mengran nodded enthusiastically, like a pecking chick.

“Fine, but hurry up and clean it. I’ve got—”

“Grandpa, you start cooking first. When Zheng Yijie gets back, he’ll help you. I’m taking Liang Zhao with me for something urgent.”

Before Grandpa could get a word in, Gu Mengran grabbed Liang Zhao and bolted from the kitchen.

As soon as they left, the once lively kitchen fell silent. Grandpa let out a long sigh, muttering to himself, “That brat—always looking for an excuse to slack off.”

But Gu Mengran wasn’t slacking off this time—he had a real reason for pulling Liang Zhao away. With Windwing anchored in place long-term, having an electric fence and a high-pressure water cannon wasn’t enough. If they wanted true peace of mind—if they wanted total freedom, where no one had to stand night watch—there was one more thing they needed: Motion sensor alarms.

Right now, they were docked in deep water, over 600 meters down—not exactly easy for anyone to approach. Even if someone tried to sneak up on them like earlier in the evening, speeding over in a motorboat, Windwing had the advantage of height. There was no way anyone could climb up bare-handed.

The only real concern was Heng Rong Sheng’s.

With its heavy cargo, its waterline sat lower. Climbing up bare-handed might be difficult, but with the right tools and a little effort, someone could probably board.

Like they always said—better safe than sorry.

With a bag of motion sensor alarms each, Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao split up—one left, one right—installing alarms along the doors and windows on both the first and second floors of the ship. Finally, they secured tripwires to door handles and window frames.

The upper deck was covered with waterproof tarps, and all the doors and windows had awnings, so there was no need to worry about rain damaging the alarms.

Their function was simple: an instant, blaring warning system. The moment someone from the outside touched a tripwired door or window, the alarm would go off, shrieking at an ear-piercing volume.

—A high-tech doorbell. Touch it, and it screams.

After days of rough travel, flipped schedules, and restless nights, the four of them finally had a chance to sit down for a proper, unhurried meal. Dinner stretched on and on—until the dead of night.

Then, Grandpa got the urge for a drink. With some coaxing and persistence, he roped Zheng Yijie and Liang Zhao into joining him. At first, they were restrained—sipping beer, toasting with the classic line: “Just a little, to liven things up.”

But after a few rounds, the alcohol took effect. Before long, Grandpa had completely lost track of north, south, east, and west. Beer turned to rice wine, and every sip came with a slurred “Not stopping till we’re drunk!”

Drunk? Oh, he was definitely drunk.

The three of them had drunk the same amount—yet somehow, Grandpa was the only one wasted. All talk, no tolerance. It took a Herculean effort to get him back to his room and settled in.

By the time Gu Mengran made it back to the kitchen, Liang Zhao and Zheng Yijie had already cleaned up the dishes, wiped down the counters, and left the stovetop gleaming.

Not bad. Feeling relieved, Gu Mengran yawned lazily and turned to head back to his room. He had just lifted his foot—hadn’t even taken a step—when Liang Zhao suddenly called out.

“Mengran.”

Gu Mengran stopped and turned, watching as Liang Zhao and Zheng Yijie walked toward him side by side.

Thinking they had something important to say, he waited. But just as they reached him, Zheng Yijie casually brushed past, threw him a knowing, almost teasing look, and disappeared down the corridor into his room.

Gu Mengran: …?

Liang Zhao walked over, carrying the faint scent of alcohol. He had drunk quite a bit tonight, yet he looked no different than usual—completely sober. The only sign he’d been drinking was the faint flush on his sharply defined face, and most noticeably, the deep red tinge on his ears.

He stood there without saying a word.

Gu Mengran tilted his head, eyeing him curiously. “What’s up?”

Liang Zhao hesitated. He met Gu Mengran’s gaze but quickly looked away, his lips parting slightly—only to press them together again. It took a while before he finally spoke.

“Can we talk?” The hesitation in his voice, the way he seemed to struggle with his words—it wasn’t hard to guess what he wanted to talk about.

Gu Mengran’s brows arched slightly, his lips curling up almost instinctively. “Here?”

Liang Zhao hesitated again, then explained in a soft voice, “We could go to the living room or… one of our rooms? Mine still smells like disinfectant—I just finished sanitizing it today.”

“Forget the living room. My room works.”

The rain had brought the temperature down, cooling the air to a comfortable 25–30°C. Not too hot, not too cold—pleasant enough that they didn’t need air conditioning anymore.

Gu Mengran’s room had only one chair. As soon as they walked in, he wasted no time—claiming the chair for himself. He sat at the desk, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in to boil.

Liang Zhao glanced around. There was nowhere else to sit. After a brief hesitation, he lifted the blanket and sat neatly on Gu Mengran’s bed.

Almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head, Gu Mengran immediately turned his chair to face him. Resting his chin slightly up, he met Liang Zhao’s gaze directly.

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

It seemed Liang Zhao had already made up his mind. This time, he didn’t avoid eye contact. His gaze was steady, unwavering.

“I want to confirm something,” he said. “Your dream… and my dream… are they the same?”

Since that night—the night Gu Mengran confessed—he had deliberately avoided bringing it up again. Because he wanted to know. Would Liang Zhao brush it aside and forget about it, or… would he take the initiative to come to him for answers?

It turned out to be the latter. Liang Zhao came to him. And with that, control fell back into Gu Mengran’s hands.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, with a faint smile in his eyes, he asked softly, “So what if it is? So what if it isn’t? It’s just a dream.”

“No.” Liang Zhao’s gaze was unwavering, his voice firm. “It’s not just a dream. Every disaster we saw in it… has become real. The only difference is us.”

Gu Mengran shrugged. “Alright, if you insist on knowing—then yes, Liang Zhao, you dreamed my dream.”

“And as for why it was my dream first? Because…” He smirked. “I had it before you did.” His tone was light, casual—like he was cracking a meaningless joke. His expression was relaxed, completely at ease, without the slightest sign of unease.

One of them was calm and composed. The other… was anything but.

Barely three seconds later, Liang Zhao’s brows furrowed sharply. His face paled as he stared at Gu Mengran with a deeply complex expression. His lips trembled slightly.

“Did… did it hurt?”

The question came out of nowhere. Gu Mengran blinked, momentarily stunned. Just as he was about to ask what Liang Zhao meant, he noticed something.

Liang Zhao’s gaze was slowly shifting downward—fixated on his legs. Something clicked in Gu Mengran’s mind.

Oh. He hurriedly waved his hand, forcing out a dry laugh. “Are you drunk? I told you, it was just a dream. Dreams don’t hurt.”

“But if two people share the same dream… is it still just a dream?” Liang Zhao lowered his eyes, staring at Gu Mengran’s perfectly intact legs. His expression grew distant, his voice almost a murmur, as if speaking to himself.

Gu Mengran responded immediately, “Of course! The disasters in our dream turning real is already bizarre enough. Two people having the same dream? Just think of it as some weird prophecy. Anyway, look at us now—we’re eating well, drinking well. Nothing like the nightmare where we barely scraped by.”

Not the same… Liang Zhao repeated those words in his mind, his thoughts drifting further and further away.

When had things changed?

It all traced back to… that phone call. If Gu Mengran had never called him that day, maybe everything would have played out exactly as it did in the dream.

But why did Gu Mengran call him?

Because he had a dream. A dream where… Liang Zhao saved him.

The truth felt closer than ever. A vague shadow of understanding formed in his mind, just within reach. He stretched out a hand—about to grasp it—

But another hand beat him to it. A heavy slap landed on his shoulder.

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