Axolotl Translations

“It’s late… is something wrong?”

The door opened slowly. Gu Mengran stood in the doorway, towel in hand, casually drying his hair. He didn’t step aside to let Liang Zhao in. His voice was polite—distant, even.

Liang Zhao froze, his dark eyes slowly dropping to the floor. Staring blankly, he asked softly, “Are you still mad at me? I’m sorry, I—”

“Mad?” Gu Mengran cut him off with a sudden laugh. “Did we fight today? Have an argument I don’t remember? Why would I be mad at you for no reason?”

“…Mengran, I shouldn’t have asked you that the other night.” Panic flashed across Liang Zhao’s face. He stepped forward instinctively, trying to close the distance—but Gu Mengran stepped back just as quickly, creating space between them. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and smiled faintly. “That night? I’ve thought it through. You were right—dreams and reality aren’t the same. I can’t mistake you for someone you’re not.”

It felt like a sharp needle had pierced Liang Zhao’s chest. He held his breath for a moment, frozen. He knew. He’d always known. He could tell the difference between dream and reality, and he was well aware that the person in Gu Mengran’s heart wasn’t him. But after that night, things between them had shifted—grown distant, unfamiliar, as if they’d reverted to strangers overnight.

If he’d never gotten close, just watched from afar, he could have lived with it. But he’d basked in the light of those dreams—tasted that fleeting warmth. He couldn’t go back now, couldn’t crawl back into the cold, damp shadows alone.

Why draw such a hard line? Shouldn’t he be grateful it wasn’t someone else appearing in those dreams? He didn’t have the confidence to compete with the dream version of himself… but maybe, just maybe, he could imitate him. Learn to become the person Gu Mengran wanted.

No more hesitation. Liang Zhao suddenly looked up and locked eyes with him, speaking fast, almost desperately. “No—I was wrong. You were right, Mengran. I can see those dreams. I am him. One day, I’ll remember everything, right?”

As he spoke, his hand slowly reached up and gently cupped Gu Mengran’s cheek. His palm was hot. Scorching. The sudden touch threw Gu Mengran off for a moment. He stared into Liang Zhao’s eyes, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” he asked.

“I’ve figured it out. I was being stubborn.” Liang Zhao’s voice was hoarse, and his hand trembled slightly against Gu Mengran’s skin.

Something felt off. This wasn’t clarity. This wasn’t someone letting go of overthinking. It felt more like… fear. Fear of being left out in the cold.

He’d given in.

A strange, indescribable feeling stirred in Gu Mengran’s chest. He chuckled softly, gently flipping his hand to hold Liang Zhao’s. “Really? A sudden change of heart? I don’t buy it. Did you dream something else?”

Liang Zhao’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He gave a barely audible hum. “Mm.”

“‘Mm’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Gu Mengran tightened his grip and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind them. He wasn’t about to let this go. “What did you dream about? Tell me.”

So, he got in—because he’d dreamed even more. Liang Zhao swallowed the bitter taste rising in his throat and forced a faint, strained smile. His voice was low.

“Just… little things. Details about how we used to get along.”

Stolen moments. Special treatment that didn’t belong to him. Like a puppet with its strings pulled, Liang Zhao followed Gu Mengran inside, sat obediently on the edge of the bed, not daring to move.

But Gu Mengran wasn’t about to let him off the hook. He placed a hand on Liang Zhao’s shoulder, standing before him with a calm smile and eyes that gleamed with mischief.

“So, if you dreamed about it, you should know how we used to sleep in those dreams, right?”

Liang Zhao froze, then gave a stiff nod. “Y-Yeah. I know.” He’d seen the little boat. That tiny cabin. He’d seen himself—no, the other him—sleeping beside Gu Mengran.

Sure enough, Gu Mengran nodded with satisfaction. Then he leaned in, their noses nearly touching, and murmured, “Did you shower already?”

Liang Zhao’s ears rang. His brain short-circuited. Before he could react, Gu Mengran straightened, took a step back, and smiled with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I’m going to dry my hair. Go wait for me in bed?”

His tone lifted at the end, making it sound like a question—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked off.

Heading into the bathroom, Gu Mengran grabbed the hairdryer, plugged it in, switched it on—and under the hum of warm air, he clapped a hand over his mouth and practically doubled over in laughter.

Go wait for me in bed… He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that.

God, that was such a cheesy line. So over-the-top. How did he even manage to say something like that?

But the longer Gu Mengran laughed, the more the laughter faded. Liang Zhao wasn’t good at lying—his body language, his expression, everything about him screamed that something was off.

Across two lifetimes, Gu Mengran had taken the leap twice—and been turned down both times. Of course he was upset. How could he not be? He’d wanted to let Liang Zhao stew for a bit, give him some space.

But he’d overdone it. And now Liang Zhao was giving in. He didn’t want distance. He’d rather pretend his memory was returning. Was he really fighting himself? Trying to replace the dream version of himself—with himself?

Gu Mengran didn’t know how much inner turmoil it must’ve taken for someone like Liang Zhao, so precise, so stubborn, to make that decision. It made him want to laugh—but more than that, it hurt. If Liang Zhao was going to twist himself into knots, then fine. Better that than watch him shrink into someone he’s not.

When Gu Mengran came out of the bathroom, it was just as he expected: Liang Zhao sat quietly on the edge of the bed, head bowed, completely still. Gu Mengran walked over slowly, looped his arms around Liang Zhao’s neck, and held him close. His palm gently stroked Liang Zhao’s still-damp hair.

“Chase me, Liang Zhao,” he said softly. “We’ve got time. We can take it slow.”

“W-Why?” Liang Zhao’s voice was hoarse, like a radio full of static. Who knew what he’d been thinking about while sitting alone?

“Why?” Gu Mengran chuckled, his chin resting lightly on Liang Zhao’s head. “Because right now, you look like a bride I dragged home by force. The picture of misery.”

Liang Zhao shifted, about to defend himself—“I’m not—”

“Shh. Don’t talk,” Gu Mengran interrupted gently, patting his back. “You’re not someone else. You’ve never been a stand-in. Even if you don’t remember, it doesn’t matter. Would you be willing to start over with me? A brand-new Liang Zhao—think you’ve got what it takes to make me fall for you?”

Confidence? He didn’t have it. Not even a little. But Gu Mengran’s words… felt like a breath of air, like CPR after drowning.

“I can try,” Liang Zhao whispered, wrapping his arms around Gu Mengran and pulling him in tight, like he was afraid he’d disappear if he didn’t hold on.

Liang Zhao was holding him so tightly, Gu Mengran swore his bones were about to snap. He quickly pried the arms off and gave up on the hug, instead cupping Liang Zhao’s face between his hands. He stared straight into those eyes and said, slowly and clearly, “Didn’t I tell you? You’re the one chasing now. And I’m not easy to win over—you’d better step up your game.”

“Then tonight…” Liang Zhao looked like he was drunk. His body leaned forward instinctively, his forehead pressing against Gu Mengran’s with a soft nuzzle. “Can I still sleep here?”

Gu Mengran laughed. “Of course not. You’re just a suitor now, remember? Get your priorities straight.” He started to pull back, but Liang Zhao moved faster—one arm looped around his shoulder, the other hand sliding to the back of his head, holding him in place. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, eyes locked.

Those eyes—dark and endless, like a deep lake. And in them, Gu Mengran could clearly see himself reflected, along with a flicker of something else: want. Intense, unfiltered desire. His heart skipped a beat.

Flustered, Gu Mengran looked away and mumbled, “What are you doing? Go back and—”

“He kissed you.”

The words came with the warmth of lips against his own. Just like that night, Liang Zhao brushed his thumb gently over Gu Mengran’s mouth. Only this time, it wasn’t stolen. It was his right.

“You saw that?” In the chaos of his racing heartbeat, Gu Mengran heard the hoarseness in his own voice.

Liang Zhao frowned slightly, answering with a low, resentful, “Yeah. I saw everything.” His thumb pressed harder, as if he wanted to wear the memory off his lips.

“You’re so jealous,” Gu Mengran swatted his hand away, lifting his chin until their lips were a breath apart. “But you got it wrong. I kissed him, not the other way around.”

His voice was cut off. That last sliver of space disappeared—someone leaned in, maybe him, maybe Liang Zhao. Either way, the just-beginning suitor finally kissed the one he’d been dreaming of for so long.

……

The 6:00 a.m. alarm rang precisely on time. For once, Gu Mengran didn’t hit snooze. He got up, washed, and dressed—smooth and efficient. By 6:10, he was out of the bedroom and heading straight to the kitchen.

He’d gotten up early to cook, but surprisingly, someone had beaten him to it. Steam was rising from a pot on the stove. The old man stood at the counter, knife flashing as he sliced a whole pickled radish in half, then into strips, then—chop chop chop—into perfect little cubes.

So, the pickled radish he made a while back was finally ready to eat? Gu Mengran casually reached out to grab one off the cutting board, but before he could pop it into his mouth—smack!

A loud slap echoed through the quiet kitchen. The piece of radish fell to the floor. But Gu Mengran didn’t care about that—he was staring in disbelief at the red imprint blooming across the back of his hand.

“Grandpa, what the hell? Did you wake up in a bad mood? That actually hurt!”

“Hurt?” the old man snorted, not even looking up. “If I wanted to really hurt you, I’d have used the knife.”

Gu Mengran immediately sensed something was off. Rubbing his hand, he took two cautious steps back and asked carefully, “Okay… what happened? Who ticked you off? Tell me, I’ll help you—”

“Who else?” his grandfather snapped, clearly still fuming. “Late at night, messing around at the door. Hugging, hanging all over each other. Not a shred of shame.”

Gu Mengran froze. “What? No one was messing around!” he shot back. “We just talked at the door for a bit, and then we went inside. That’s all!”

“You’ve got some nerve to talk,” Grandpa snapped, slamming the knife flat onto the cutting board as he turned to glare at Gu Mengran. “How long has it even been? Did you two officially get together already? And you’re already sleeping together?”

Gu Mengran’s jaw dropped. The words hit like a punch—he couldn’t even form a reply. Not that he was given the chance.

Grandpa huffed and continued angrily, “I don’t care that you’re both guys—dating is still about the process! Step by step, slow and steady. Jumping straight into bed? What does that make you? Friends with benefits?!”

“Cough—cough, cough!” Gu Mengran choked on his own spit, hacking and pounding on his chest as his eyes watered. He looked at his grandfather with disbelief.

“First of all—we didn’t sleep together. He left last night! Climbed back into his own room through the balcony—early! Second—where on earth did you learn that term?!”

Hearing that Liang Zhao had left, Grandpa’s expression finally softened. But he clearly wasn’t interested in further discussion. He grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe his hands, then slipped both hands into his pockets. A moment later, he pulled something out—a small silver box.

Before Gu Mengran could even get a good look, Grandpa tossed it at him. He caught it reflexively, glanced down—and almost dropped it.

Ultra-thin. Breathable.

If there had been a crack in the floor, Gu Mengran would’ve thrown himself in without hesitation.

Grandpa remained expressionless. “I’m not getting involved, but you’d better be responsible.”

Gu Mengran’s ears turned bright red. His head was nearly buried in the floor, but he still couldn’t help asking, “Where… where did you get these?”

“I run a supermarket,” Grandpa said dryly. “Gotta stock everything. Nothing to be embarrassed about. There’s more in the cabinet in the living room. When you run out, get it yourself.”

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