Axolotl Translations

Just after finishing a roasted sweet potato, Gu Mengran was handed a whole bunch of roasted peanuts. From the moment he sat down, his mouth hadn’t stopped—he was either answering questions or chewing.

Twenty minutes passed in this manner. Beside him, Xiao Dong happily munched away, not even looking up once. As for Gu Mengran? He couldn’t exactly get up and leave on his own, so he had no choice but to stick it out.

Thankfully, the peanuts weren’t bad. After cracking open the shells, he rubbed the kernels between his fingers—one light puff and the thin skins floated away. He tossed one in his mouth; it was warm and crunchy, with just a hint of bitterness and a smoky aftertaste. The flavor was richer than regular fried peanuts.

“So? How is it, Xiao Meng? You like it? Tastes good, doesn’t it?” Auntie Wang, seated across from him, eagerly asked before a single peanut had even made it all the way down his throat.

Gu Mengran smiled, nodding quickly like a pecking chicken. “It’s actually my first time eating peanuts like this. The flavor’s really unique—nutty and smoky. Really tasty.”

And it was tasty, for real. But even he thought his words sounded a little too polite. If it were someone his age, a simple “Yeah, good” would’ve been enough. But these aunties were so enthusiastic that he felt obligated to be equally warm and respectful in return.

Apparently, that politeness was a big plus in their eyes. Auntie Wang beamed, practically glowing with joy. “What a sweet boy! So polite and patient, sitting here chatting with a bunch of old ladies—way better than Xiao Yan and his jittery temper.”

“Exactly,” Auntie Wu chimed in. “If it were Xiao Yan in here with us, he wouldn’t last two minutes.”

Xiao Dong paused mid-bite, wiped his mouth, and tossed in a word of defense. “Don’t throw my brother under the bus, Aunties. He’s a little hot-tempered, sure, but he’s smart and reliable. We’re sitting here relaxed right now—that’s all thanks to him, right?”

“Relax, we’re just teasing. Look how defensive you got.”

“You can’t say a single bad thing about your Brother Duan, huh?”

Xiao Dong grinned proudly. “That’s because my Brother Duan is awesome.”

“Alright, alright,” Auntie Wang teased him with a laugh. “He’d be even better if he were a little more even-tempered. If he were more like Xiao Meng here—steady, patient—then—”

“Please don’t.” That came from Auntie Wu, seated right beside Gu Mengran, cutting her off.

It was as if an unpleasant thought had suddenly surfaced. Auntie Wu’s lips twisted slightly, a flicker of sarcasm in her eyes.

“I think Xiao Yan’s just fine the way he is. So what if he’s impulsive? At least he’s grateful, loyal, and knows how to repay kindness. Not like some people—turncoats who bite the hand that feeds them, even turning on their own—”

“Stop it, Auntie Wu!” A chunk of sweet potato fell to the ground with a soft plop. Xiao Dong didn’t even bother to pick it up—he jumped up in a panic and darted a nervous glance toward the corner.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. In the back corner of the room, an auntie who had been silently sitting there the whole time looked deathly pale. The firelight cast long shadows on her rough, weathered hands—hands that were shaking so badly, Gu Mengran could see it clearly even from where he sat.

“Why bring that up now? Talk about hitting a sore spot,” someone muttered.

“Come on, come on, eat some peanuts.” The other two aunties tried to smooth things over, but their own expressions weren’t too pleasant either. Their eyes flicked over to the silent auntie in the corner—full of barely concealed resentment and hostility.

The little tea-time gathering ended on a sour note.

Carrying a basket of smoked fish and a handful of roasted peanuts, Gu Mengran followed Xiao Dong out from the back room into the main hall to get back to work. The fish had already been strung up with hemp twine—they just needed to hang them on the bamboo rack. Gu Mengran grabbed a string of smoked fish from the basket and was about to hang it when Xiao Dong suddenly called out.

“Hey—aren’t you… curious?”

Gu Mengran feigned ignorance. “Curious about what?”

“You ever wonder why there aren’t many young people in our village?” Straight to the point, huh…

Gu Mengran paused for a second before hooking the fish onto the bamboo pole. He shook his head. “No idea.”

Maybe Xiao Dong just needed to get it off his chest, or maybe he was finally ready to talk—either way, he stepped aside, leaned against the wall, and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Our village got included in the scenic area, so quite a few young people actually stayed behind to help develop it. When the earthquake hit, we were lucky. Yeah, there were casualties, but most of us were locals, familiar with the area—not as bad off as the tourists.”

“Our village stuck together. After the quake, we helped rescue tourists, scouted for supplies. Every day was exhausting, hopeless even… but every time we pulled someone out of the rubble, or found a bag of food, the sense of accomplishment—it was incredible.” Xiao Dong spoke slowly, pausing between each sentence, holding Gu Mengran in suspense.

Gu Mengran tried to resist, but curiosity got the better of him. The moment Xiao Dong paused again, he asked, “And then?”

Xiao Dong rubbed his temples, a touch of helplessness in his voice.

“Days went by, one after another. We had food stored in the village, and the resort had shops, supermarkets, even snack stands. We dug through the rubble and found a lot of supplies. Even when there were the most people around, we never ran out of food. At first, everyone agreed to stay—no one would leave. But when rescue never came, and the tourists began trickling out… some of our people started wavering.”

“Some thought we should leave too. Staying here was just waiting to die. But Brother Duan felt the outside world was even more dangerous, and since there were so many people in the village—especially the elderly—it wasn’t safe or practical to take them wandering around.” One side wanted to leave, the other wanted to stay.

Before they knew it, the village had split into two factions. No one could convince the other, and the disagreements slowly escalated. Then came the heavy fog, and when it began to clear—on a pitch-black, windy night—those who wanted to leave actually left. Quietly. Cleanly. No goodbyes, not even a note. And they didn’t just leave—they took most of the supplies the whole village had worked together to gather.

“Honestly, it wasn’t even about the supplies,” Xiao Dong said, fists clenched, teeth grinding. “We live off the land—we could’ve found more if we needed to. The real problem is… they left, just like that. And it wasn’t just a few. Most of them were young people.”

“You’ve seen how it is now. Aside from the ones who go out to work every day, it’s mostly older folks left behind. Put nicely, they ‘left.’ To be blunt… they abandoned us. Treated us like dead weight.” The mood grew heavy. Xiao Dong lowered his head, as if a shadow had fallen over him. It wasn’t just the loss of supplies that upset him—it was the feeling of betrayal.

Gu Mengran wasn’t from the village. He couldn’t really relate, so he tried to offer a logical comfort: “It’s not worth being upset over. You all just happened to live in the same village. People have different priorities—if you don’t share the same path—”

“‘Just happened to live in the same village?’” Xiao Dong sniffed, then laughed bitterly. “Do you even know who led the whole thing? My cousin. And my childhood best friend. My older cousin too… Our village isn’t that big. We’ve all known each other since we were in diapers—we literally grew up together.”

“If none of that matters—fine. But what about family? I still don’t get it. How could they just walk away like that? Remember the auntie who didn’t say a word earlier? That’s my second aunt—my cousin’s mom. His mom! And he just left her behind.”

Gu Mengran sucked in a sharp breath, pupils shrinking. Same village or not, people weren’t a monolith. Whether they stayed or left, everyone had their reasons. Taking the shared supplies wasn’t exactly fair, sure—but abandoning your own family? That was something else entirely.

That silent auntie earlier… Her own son led the group that left—leaving her behind. No wonder the others resented her. Even if no one said it out loud, they probably never truly accepted her again.

No wonder she’d acted like that earlier—talk about awkward. Even though it wasn’t his business, the whole story hit Gu Mengran hard. It took him a while to recover before he asked, curiosity getting the better of him: “So… none of them took their families along? Could it be a misunderstanding?”

Xiao Dong shook his head with a sigh. “No misunderstanding. Most of them did take their families. Just a few didn’t—those ones? Absolute scum.” He let out a bitter laugh. “How can people be so different, huh?”

“My Brother Duan grew up without parents, raised by the whole village. But he remembers the kindness. No matter how tough things get, he’s never thought of abandoning anyone. And then there’s my second aunt—raised my cousin all on her own, scrimped and saved just to get him through school. And look how he repaid her. What a heartless bastard.”

It felt more like Xiao Dong just needed to vent. Gu Mengran half-expected him to follow up with a recruitment pitch or some kind of request—but in the end, he didn’t mention anything at all.

By 6:30 p.m., the sky was already starting to darken. After a whole day spent drying fish, Gu Mengran followed Xiao Dong to the “canteen.” The others were already seated around a big round table, eating. He didn’t have to look long—Liang Zhao was standing to the side, holding two large bowls. The moment Gu Mengran walked in, Liang Zhao came right over.

Dinner was the usual—dried fish and potatoes. Taking the bowl and chopsticks from Liang Zhao, Gu Mengran turned and headed for the door with him in tow. Too many people in that room. Everyone talking over each other, loud enough to make your eardrums throb. They needed peace to eat properly. The two of them found a dry spot under the eaves outside and sat down on the steps.

The peeled, boiled potatoes were just the right size to pop whole into your mouth. Gu Mengran was starving—he shoved a few in one after another before finally slowing down. Cheeks puffed out, he asked, “How was it today? Chopping firewood—tiring?”

“Not really. We worked in teams—way easier than cutting down trees,” Liang Zhao answered honestly, then glanced sideways at him. “Still, I’d rather be up the mountain cutting trees.”

Gu Mengran instinctively asked, “Why—” But he only got one word out before he caught Liang Zhao’s look—a half-smile, half-smirk. He instantly got it. He nudged Liang Zhao lightly with his elbow. “Ugh, you’re so clingy.”

A big, juicy chunk of fish belly dropped into his bowl. Gu Mengran blinked, then quickly picked it up and popped it in his mouth. A soft chuckle escaped from his throat. “You’re not even gonna ask what I did today? Not even a little bit concerned, huh?”

“Smoked fish or dried fish?” Liang Zhao asked.

Gu Mengran blinked. “Wait—how’d you know?!”

Liang Zhao chuckled. “You smell strongly of fish.”

“Is it that obvious?” Gu Mengran tugged at his collar and took a whiff. “I’ve been marinated so thoroughly, I can’t even smell it myself anymore.”

“It’s fine. Smells… kind of nice.”

“Ahem.” A sudden cough behind them made them both freeze, bowls in hand, and turn their heads at the same time. Standing right behind them was the perpetually grumpy Duan Yueyan. Does this guy walk without making a sound or what? Thank god they hadn’t been talking about anything awkward.

Gu Mengran tilted his chin up at him. “What’s up?”

“What do you think?” Duan Yueyan lifted both hands from his sides. He was holding three bags—one big bag of potatoes, another of sweet potatoes, and a smaller one of dried fish. Yep, that would be today’s day-rate pay. Normally, they went to pick it up themselves. And now the boss had delivered it personally?

Gu Mengran gave him a side-eye, eyebrows raised, and forced a half-decent smile. “Uh… thanks, just leave it there.”

With the sound of rustling plastic, the bags were dropped off behind them. But Duan Yueyan didn’t leave. He just stood there, stone-faced, saying nothing. His presence was way too intense—made even eating a potato feel stressful.

After a moment of hesitation, Gu Mengran turned back to him, puzzled. “Something else?”

Duan Yueyan looked almost… awkward. He scratched his nose, licked his lips, shifted like he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. The string of fake-out movements was driving Gu Mengran’s patience into the red. Finally, he opened his mouth: “Can we talk?”

Getting pulled aside by your boss after work? That was peak nightmare. Gu Mengran muttered darkly, sarcasm dialed to max: “Wow, what a considerate company. Still holding meetings after hours.”

Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped all day. It was still coming down. Duan Yueyan didn’t respond to the jab—he just looked past the edge of the roof, staring up at the dark, cloudy sky and murmured, “If this were a proper company, we’d get rain days off. Feels like it’s not letting up tomorrow either. Don’t you think?”

Gu Mengran immediately scooted his butt over to make room beside Liang Zhao, then patted the step like a kiss-up. “Boss, please. Have a seat.”

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