Axolotl Translations

The rolling hills were soaked through with rain. In the forest, once-thriving trees had long since been scorched lifeless by the blazing sun. Now, dry branches littered the ground, fallen leaves mixed into the slick mud. What had once been a lush, vibrant woodland was now a mess—wild and chaotic, like a dangerous swamp waiting to swallow anyone who got too close.

Thud. Thud. Thud— Axes slammed into tree trunks. Over a dozen bare-chested men worked among the trees, locked in a relentless contest with the bare, stubborn trunks. From time to time, a loud shout would pierce through the forest—then another tree crashed to the ground, the echo rumbling through the hills.

The thick trunk splashed mud as it landed. Four or five men swarmed forward in unison, working together to haul the tree to the edge of the slope. Then, with a final push, it rolled down the wet, slick incline with a thud-thud-thud, disappearing into the distance.

Simple tools. Primitive methods. On his first day of work, Gu Mengran was out in the woods, chopping trees in the rain—for hours. And it was exhausting. He now truly understood the meaning of “sweating like a pig.” Even wearing a raincoat, the clothes underneath were completely soaked—not by rain, but by sweat.

His right hand, still gripping the axe, ached badly from the repetitive motion. His arms were so tired he could barely lift them anymore. If there weren’t people all over the place, he would’ve pulled a chainsaw out of his space and made quick work of it. No wonder they were short on manpower—this kind of work was just brutal.

Thud. Thud. Thud— The sharp axe kept swinging. After dozens of strikes, the tree—about the thickness of a bowl—finally began to sway. Gu Mengran hefted the axe and stood up straight. Imitating the others, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Clear the way! Tree’s coming down!”

With a firm kick, the tree crashed to the ground. The others quickly moved in to help, guiding it along the natural slope, sending it rolling down the hillside.

The rain was getting heavier. Gu Mengran’s face was dripping wet—he couldn’t tell if it was rain or sweat anymore. He paused for a breather, standing still for a few seconds before getting ready to tackle the next tree.

Just as he reached for his axe again, a hand landed on his shoulder. “That’s enough for today, Xiao Gu. Come on, let’s head down for dinner.”

Gu Mengran turned to see a shirtless man behind him, looking to be around forty. His hair was thinning, and his stubbled face looked worn by time, but the easy smile he wore gave him a kind, approachable feel.

“Brother Luo, dinner already?” Gu Mengran smiled politely and lifted his wrist to check the time—it was just after four in the afternoon. He’d only had some dry rations for lunch on the mountain, and he was starving… But calling it a day at four? That seemed… kinda early?

Almost as if he could read Gu Mengran’s mind, Luo Yuan let out a hearty laugh and nudged him gently with an elbow. “What’re you thinking? We still have to carry those trees back down. Up and down, back and forth—if we get to eat by six or seven, we’ll be lucky.”

Gu Mengran scratched his nose with a sheepish smile. “Yeah… fair point.”

He didn’t rush down right away. Instead, he glanced around until he spotted Liang Zhao coming down the slope with the others. Only then did he follow Luo Yuan down the mountain.

The trail was slick and tricky. Every step sank into a thick layer of mud, making their shoes feel twice as heavy. Gu Mengran took each step slowly and cautiously, worried he’d end up tumbling down the hill like one of those fallen trees. Before long, he was lagging behind the others.

Luo Yuan was a good-natured guy. That morning, he’d been the one showing Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao how to handle the axe. Now, on the way down, he didn’t complain about how slow they were either. He patiently led the way, occasionally turning back to point out which spot to step on and which patch to avoid.

Once they reached a gentler slope, Gu Mengran let out a breath of relief and quickened his pace to catch up. “Thanks so much, Brother Luo,” he said gratefully. “That old saying’s no joke—‘going up the mountain is easy, coming down is hard.’”

Luo Yuan let out a booming laugh. “No kidding. Mountain paths are the worst when it rains. I took a real nasty fall my first time. Lucky a tree stump broke my fall—otherwise I would’ve rolled all the way to the bottom.”

Gu Mengran looked at him in surprise. “Wait, you’re not a local?”

“Local?” Luo Yuan raised a brow. “You couldn’t tell?”

Gu Mengran blinked, confused. “Tell what?”

Luo Yuan shook his head with a chuckle. “Same as you guys. I used to work boats in Huangjiang too. We were coworkers, technically. Why else do you think I’ve been sticking around you two kids all day?”

So that’s what it was! It all clicked for Gu Mengran now. He’d assumed Luo Yuan was just a kind local helping out the newcomers. Never imagined it was actually an old colleague looking out for his own. The whole day, Gu Mengran had been on his best behavior, thinking he was a guest in someone else’s village. Now that this “local” turned out to be half one of his own, he couldn’t help but grin and say,

“No wonder you seemed so familiar, Brother Luo! A fellow seafarer, huh? How long’ve you all been here? Were you on that cargo ship by the tourist pier?”

“You sharp little punk,” Luo Yuan gave him a knowing look, then grinned. “Yup. That’s our boat. We got here maybe ten days before you guys. By the time you arrived, we’d already decided to stay and started working.”

Luo Yuan was still shirtless, sweat and rain slicking his skin. Gu Mengran’s eyes flicked over his upper body, and a flash of surprise passed through his gaze. He hesitated a moment, then asked cautiously, “Brother Luo, I heard… someone on your boat caught chickenpox? Are they… alright now?”

Luo Yuan waved him off with a laugh. “Oh, come on—if you’re curious, just ask. No need to beat around the bush. You’re wondering why I don’t have any scars, right?” He didn’t seem bothered at all. “There were five of us on the boat. Four got it bad. I was the lucky one who came through untouched.”

His tone grew more serious. “It was close, though. They were really sick—almost didn’t make it. Good thing we made it to Fengjin Lake, and even better that the village took us in. Found us a doctor just in time.” As he spoke of the past, Luo Yuan’s smile slowly faded, a faint sorrow settling in the lines around his eyes.

“Guess the heavens look out for the good ones,” Gu Mengran said softly, reaching out instinctively to pat Luo Yuan’s shoulder—only to realize halfway that the man was still shirtless. He awkwardly pulled his hand back and gave a sheepish smile. “So… are the rest of your crew still in the village now?”

Luo Yuan nodded. “They’re still recovering. Brother Duan gave them some easy jobs to do and doesn’t let them work in the rain.”

“What about after?” Gu Mengran asked. “You planning to stay here for good?”

“Do we have a choice?” Luo Yuan shrugged. “No food, no supplies, no fuel for the boat—where else could we go? Things out there are a complete mess. Honestly, we’re better off staying put.”

Once he got going, Luo Yuan didn’t stop. “But I’ll say this—Shijin Village’s not bad at all. Got mountains, water, no shortage of food. The people are kind, down-to-earth. They helped us when we were at rock bottom. Never once treated us differently just ‘cause we’re outsiders.”

As Gu Mengran ran out of questions, Luo Yuan finally tossed one his way. “Word is, you guys don’t want to stay here? Mind if I ask why?”

“It’s not that we don’t want to,” Gu Mengran replied after a short pause. “It’s just… we don’t know enough yet. Hard to make a decision without understanding the full picture.”

Luo Yuan’s eyes lit up. “Well then ask me! I’m practically a local by now. I know most of what’s going on here.”

“Really?”

Luo Yuan shot him a look. “What, you think I’d lie to you about that?”

Gu Mengran let out a quiet laugh, slowly wiping the rain from his face. “Thanks, Brother Luo,” he said casually. “Nothing to ask for now. We’ll be back working here every day anyway—plenty of time to observe.”

“What’s with you, huh?” Luo Yuan elbowed him again, clearly a bit anxious. “If you’ve got doubts, just ask! We’re both boatmen—you don’t trust me?”

Gu Mengran smiled. “Next time, I promise.”

He was certain of one thing—curiosity could be a trap. No matter what he asked right now, Luo Yuan would definitely give him a straight answer. And once that door opened, an invitation he couldn’t refuse would follow close behind.

Luo Yuan was probably a decent guy—not someone with bad intentions—but his heart was clearly tied to Shijin Village now. He’d become a full-blown spokesperson for the locals.

Still, that in itself said a lot about the place. For a village to win over people in less than a month… it likely wasn’t malicious. Just genuinely short on manpower.

After the short chat, the three of them soon reached the base of the slope where all the felled trees had been piled. They rolled up their sleeves and joined the others, trudging back and forth along the muddy, uneven trail countless times.

On the east side of the village was a large drying yard—easily the size of a football field. The villagers had used bamboo poles and tarps to build a massive rain shelter over it. All the rain-soaked trees were hauled there first to air-dry before they’d be chopped into firewood.

As for the potatoes and sweet potatoes dug up from the mud, they’d first wash them clean with rainwater. Depending on the day, they’d then hand them off to the elderly and the women in the village to peel and slice.

The final step happened at home. Each household would smoke the slices over open fires, laying them out on wire mesh racks alongside raw fish, drying them thoroughly for long-term storage.

Luo Yuan dropped the act. Since Gu Mengran had clearly seen through his intentions, he stopped pretending and introduced everything openly and without hesitation. After they were done checking the trees and realized it was still early, Luo Yuan even took Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao on a full tour around the village—not just once, but several times.

Gu Mengran knew what he was doing: showcasing the village’s strengths in the most direct way possible.

And honestly? The place was impressive. Grain, fuel, tools… The villagers hadn’t just sat back and hoped for someone else to save them. They hadn’t grown lazy just because life here was relatively comfortable, either. Instead, they were stocking up, doing everything they could to prepare.

Credit where credit’s due—Duan Yueyan had foresight. He was a strong backbone for the village, planning ahead for what was coming.

Gu Mengran, already running on fumes, was dead on his feet after being dragged around for another few loops. His legs were about to give out. But the walk hadn’t been pointless—dinnertime was approaching, and with nearly everyone gathered inside the village, he’d finally gotten a rough idea of how many people lived here.

Seventeen men had gone up the mountain to cut trees. All of them were either young or sturdy middle-aged men. Around thirty to forty people—both men and women, mostly young—were digging up sweet potatoes and yams on the slopes. Less than ten people were fishing on the lake, a mix of old and young, men and women.

That left those who stayed behind in the village. By his rough count, there were no more than a hundred—mostly the elderly, children, and women.

So… where had all the able-bodied adults gone? He couldn’t ask, but that didn’t stop Gu Mengran from wondering.

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