Axolotl Translations

The system blinked and rubbed its eyes. Its host had already finished bathing, changed into clean clothes, and was now seated on a wooden chair, carefully grooming himself in front of a bronze mirror.

In the past, it would’ve manifested as a fluffy cat orb, floating a few happy circles around Zhaozhao before nestling affectionately against his chest with its tiny head. If Zhaozhao allowed it, it might even perch on his shoulder and gently nuzzle his cheek.

But now, in Ruan Zhao’s eyes, it was a revered figure—a powerful senior cultivator. And so, it had to maintain that illusion. Dignity was required. Distance… necessary.

Thinking of this, the system let out a sorrowful sigh deep within itself. The more it thought about it, the more aggrieved it became.

Finally, it couldn’t help but shoot off yet another angry complaint to the main system, demanding they fix the bug and return Zhaozhao’s memories immediately.

As expected, the other side pretended to be dead. It replied with an automatic message, dry and infuriating.

[Dear User, we’ve received your feedback and are processing it as quickly as possible. Please be patient while we resolve the issue. ♡]

The system fired off several furious emoji stickers in reply to express its frustration, then slammed the communication window shut with great indignation.

Meanwhile, Ruan Zhao was holding two beautiful jade hairpins, comparing them in the mirror, stuck in indecision. Unsure which to choose, he tossed the dilemma to the system.

[Senior System, which one do you think looks better?]

The system analyzed both pieces thoroughly—from craftsmanship, color, material, to overall elegance—and came to an undeniable conclusion.

[The one on the right.]

Ruan Zhao: [Then I’ll wear the one on the right.]

He deftly swept his waist-length hair into a loose bun and secured it with the jade pin. Two strands of hair fell gently at his temples, softening his features and framing his face with effortless grace. His appearance became even more delicate and refined.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ruan Zhao retrieved a makeup kit from his storage ring.

Most of the items inside the makeup case were unfamiliar to him. Curious, he picked up a small, flat box filled with delicate, silky powder. He brought it close and took a sniff — it carried a light, pleasant fragrance.

Ruan Zhao guessed it was something meant for the face. Just as he was about to give it a try, a sudden gust of wind swept in through the window. The fine powder scattered into the air, and before he could react, some of it rushed up his nose, making him cough violently.

His eyes watered, and in a fit of choking, he hurled the rouge far away. What in the world was that? It was practically lethal! He no longer dared to touch any of the unfamiliar items.

Letting his gaze drift over the contents of the case, he finally spotted something he recognized—lip balm. It was said that applying it could make one’s lips look more alluring, brighter in color. Carefully, he gave it a try.

At first, unfamiliar with the technique, he smeared it clumsily, leaving vivid red marks around the edges of his mouth. The balm gave off a delicate fragrance—floral and fruity. He extended his tongue for a tentative lick.

It was sweet. Surprised, he licked again. Even sweeter—like honey. Before long, he’d licked it all clean. Ruan Zhao had no choice but to reapply it.

After several careful attempts, he finally learned how to apply it properly, coating his soft lips with a glossy sheen, as though stained with fresh flower nectar.

He looked into the mirror, but couldn’t see much difference—except that his lips now seemed a touch redder, glossier, like delicate petals just brushed with morning dew.

Ruan Zhao felt an urge to lick his lips again. He struggled to suppress the impulse.

There was still a quarter of an hour left before their agreed meeting time. He carefully adjusted his robes, smoothing out the skirt so it would flow more gracefully. He was dressed in a long, pale moon-white gown that hugged his slender waist, barely enough for a single hand to circle.

But… Hmm… Ruan Zhao lowered his gaze toward his chest. There was… hardly any curve to speak of. If he were younger, perhaps he could have made an excuse. But now… Ruan Zhao seriously considered whether he should stuff a couple of apples inside for a little illusion.

On second thought… probably not. If the apples happened to fall out… that scene would be far too embarrassing. Besides, Chu Xinglan didn’t seem to care about such things. Even if he noticed something odd, with his upright, restrained personality, he likely wouldn’t dare to ask.

The quarter hour passed in no time. Right on cue, a calm, clear voice sounded from outside the door — not a second early, not a second late. “Zhaozhao, are you ready?”

“All set.” Ruan Zhao answered as he crossed the room to open the door. “You can come in now.”

The room was thick with fragrance. It was a sweetness that clung too heavily to the air. Chu Xinglan entered with his gaze lowered, his eyes fixed steadily on the floor as if he’d sworn never to glance elsewhere.

He spared only a single glance at Ruan Zhao as he stepped inside, just enough to catch sight of the damp ends of his hair—and like he’d been burned, he instantly looked away.

Ruan Zhao frowned. He had spent so much time before the mirror, carefully grooming himself, just to look a little more beautiful. And yet Chu Xinglan would rather keep his eyes glued to the dark floorboards than spare him a second look.

It made him feel like all his earlier efforts had been for nothing. Was he really less captivating than a shabby old floorboard?

Stretching his words a little, Ruan Zhao asked, a touch of dissatisfaction in his tone, “Brother, why won’t you lift your head and look at me? Am I… not good-looking?”

Chu Xinglan paused for a moment, then turned his head slightly to glance at him, answering softly, “…You’re beautiful.”

“Of course I am.” Satisfied with the reply, Ruan Zhao’s mood instantly brightened. His eyes curved in a smile as he said sweetly, “Brother is handsome too.”

Recalling the cultivation technique, Ruan Zhao decided to try the first step—holding hands with Chu Xinglan. He took a slow, steady step toward the young man, reaching out and gently taking the hand resting at his side. Their fingers interlaced in a tender, intimate gesture.

He silently recited the incantation. Sure enough—a pure, powerful surge of spiritual energy rushed into his veins. That strange, electric sensation made his body tremble, a soft, lovely sound slipping from his lips.

“Zhaozhao?”

They had held hands before—but rarely like this, with palms pressed close, fingers entwined so intimately. Chu Xinglan stiffened, his body tense, but in the end, he gave in to his feelings and gently tightened his grip around Ruan Zhao’s hand.

“You…”

Ruan Zhao cut him off. “Don’t talk.”

He could feel his cultivation steadily rising. The spiritual energy he could command within his dantian was swelling at a visible speed. They held each other like that for the length of nearly an incense stick’s time. Only then did the surge of energy gradually begin to slow.

If before, he had the cultivation level of the Foundation Establishment stage in name only—his actual strength not even comparable to a Qi Refining cultivator—then now, his power had finally caught up to his cultivation.

Ruan Zhao was thrilled, his pale eyes shimmering like a sky full of scattered stars, sparkling with light. He never would’ve thought that simply holding Chu Xinglan’s hand would yield such an incredible result.

If they got even closer than this… Would it be even more astonishing?

The warmth in their joined palms kept rising. It was impossible to tell whose hand had started to sweat, making their fingers sticky—but Ruan Zhao was reluctant to let go. He looked up, gaze settling on the boy’s lips.

They were a healthy shade of pink, with a fine, well-shaped curve—though a little thin, carrying a certain cold, distant beauty. Ruan Zhao raised his arms, looping them lightly around Chu Xinglan’s neck, stood on tiptoe, and placed a kiss on him.

It landed a little off, only brushing against the edge of his jaw. But even so, the flow of spiritual energy surged like a flood. If the rate of transfer from holding hands had been a ten—the kiss was a thousand, an instant hundredfold increase.

The soft touch felt like a fleeting, almost unreal dream—here and gone in an instant.

Chu Xinglan’s pupils contracted sharply. Stunned by the unexpected kiss, he froze in place. His face quickly flushed with a beautiful rosy hue. He blinked, long lashes trembling, looking at Ruan Zhao in confusion, as if his mind still hadn’t caught up with what had just happened.

Ruan Zhao had been a little shy at first—but seeing that sweet, innocent look of his, he tossed every ounce of embarrassment aside. After all—it was just a kiss. It wasn’t like they’d done anything improper.

And besides, it wasn’t like he kissed him for no reason. He had a perfectly legitimate, serious purpose. If it weren’t for boosting his cultivation, he wouldn’t have done it.

It’s all for cultivation… all for cultivation… Ruan Zhao silently chanted to himself twice.

At the same time, Chu Xinglan was also silently reciting something. Except—what he was reciting was the Tao Te Ching.

He forced down the restless emotions within, lowered his gaze to the person in his arms, opened his lips, and asked as calmly as he could, “Why… did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to. Do I need a reason for that?” Ruan Zhao answered, bold and shameless.

As he spoke, he stood up on tiptoe, hooking his arms tighter around Chu Xinglan’s neck, coaxing in a soft, sweet voice, “Lower your head, I want to kiss you again.”

Chu Xinglan barely managed to mutter, “The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name…” And then… he couldn’t remember a single word that came after.

Struggling, he reached out a hand, blocking Ruan Zhao’s soft lips, his voice husky and unsteady. “This… this isn’t right. We’re only engaged—not yet married. We should be mindful of propriety, and absolutely must not do anything improper.”

Why did this sound so familiar? Ruan Zhao frowned slightly — wasn’t this exactly what he’d told Chu Xinglan himself, back before his bath? He’s using my own words to shut me up? Unbelievable.

Ruan Zhao opened his mouth and bit down hard on Chu Xinglan’s hand. So firm… He nearly broke a tooth. Even accidentally bit his own tongue. Tears instantly welled up in his eyes. He’d completely forgotten that a cultivator’s spiritual energy would instinctively protect their body. Even blades couldn’t leave a mark, let alone his teeth.

Hearing Ruan Zhao’s little cry of pain, Chu Xinglan’s calm façade instantly crumbled. “Let me see—did you hurt yourself?”

Ruan Zhao carefully stuck out his soft pink tongue, showing him the injured spot, pitifully complaining, “Is it bleeding? It hurts so much…” On that tender, red tip of his tongue was a faint tooth mark, with a bead of bright blood slowly welling up.

Chu Xinglan’s gaze darkened. A long pause passed before he gave a low response, “…It’s bleeding.”

“Is it a lot?”

“Not too bad.”

“All your fault,” Ruan Zhao, as always, shifted the blame smoothly, “If you’d just let me kiss you, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Chu Xinglan: “…I’m sorry.”

Ruan Zhao seized the moment, “Then let me kiss you one more time, and I’ll be merciful enough to forgive you.”

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