Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao had originally imagined that a sect as prestigious as Guiyuan Sect— one of the most renowned in the Upper Realm—would be rigid with countless strict rules, its disciples disciplined and reserved, and the elders cold and stern. But within just a few days of arriving, that entire stereotype was completely shattered.

From the elders of First Peak to the disciples scattered across the mountains, everyone here was ridiculously nosy and gossipy. Several groups had already come by, trying to subtly pry into when exactly he and Chu Xinglan were getting married.

Apparently, the general consensus was that the most auspicious dates would be either the eighth of next month, or the sixteenth of the month after. Any later and the sect’s big tournament would be upon them—by then, everyone would be too busy to plan a wedding.

Although Chu Xinglan personally sent every single one of these people packing, there were just too many of them. So much so that even Chu Xinglan himself seemed… a little tempted by the idea.

Lately, the way he looked at Ruan Zhao had gotten strange. Like there was something he wanted to say, hovering right on the tip of his tongue.

And Ruan Zhao… Ruan Zhao was starting to panic—just a little. Because he still hadn’t confessed to Chu Xinglan the truth: He wasn’t actually a girl. He had no idea how Chu Xinglan would take it—the idea that his long-time fiancée might suddenly turn out to be a fiancé instead.

They’d already hugged. Kissed. Surely Chu Xinglan wouldn’t break up with him over this… right? But then again, this wasn’t exactly a trivial matter.

There was a big difference between men and women. It wasn’t something you could disguise with a pretty dress and a delicate hairstyle. Some people, after all, only liked girls. At worst, the whole thing would fall apart. It would be over.

These past few days, thanks to being close with Chu Xinglan, Ruan Zhao’s cultivation had surged, breaking through to the mid-Foundation Establishment stage. Even without Chu Xinglan’s protection, he could now defend himself. Plus, he still had the senior system as his secret weapon—no one would dare to bully or hurt him like before. He should have been happy.

He was stronger, independent, no longer vulnerable. But he wasn’t. Because what made him uneasy wasn’t danger—it was the thought of losing Chu Xinglan.

Just the thought of Chu Xinglan possibly hating him, resenting him for pretending to be a girl—of those once warm, affectionate eyes turning cold and indifferent, and of Chu Xinglan no longer treating him with the same tenderness—made Ruan Zhao’s heart ache. It left a tight, suffocating knot in his chest. The weight of keeping this secret had even started affecting his appetite.

Meals no longer tasted good. He was pretty sure he’d lost nearly two pounds in just the past couple of days—his perfectly tailored dress now hanging a little loose around his waist.

Chu Xinglan noticed his lack of appetite too. At mealtimes, he kept piling food into Ruan Zhao’s bowl, until it was stacked high. Ruan Zhao quietly pushed the vegetables aside, using his chopsticks to pick at the plain white rice, eating grain by grain, distracted.

His absentmindedness didn’t go unnoticed. Worried, Chu Xinglan finally spoke up. “Zhaozhao…” His voice was soft, but his eyes brimmed with concern. “You’ve barely eaten these past few days. Are these dishes not to your taste?”

“No… it’s all delicious,” Ruan Zhao mumbled, his gaze darting around. He hurriedly made up an excuse. “I’m just… practicing fasting.”

A lie. A terrible one. There was no way Chu Xinglan didn’t see through it. But why would Zhaozhao lie to him? What was he hiding that he felt he couldn’t share?

Chu Xinglan’s eyes darkened slightly. But he quickly masked his emotions, and with a casual tone, said, “I heard the town at the foot of the mountain is holding a lantern festival tonight. The streets will be filled with colorful lights, stalls selling snacks, riddles, street performers—all sorts of fun things… Didn’t you always love lively crowds? Do you want to go check it out?”

It was rare for him to say so much at once—it felt like something he’d practiced over and over before working up the nerve. But without even thinking, Ruan Zhao flatly refused. “Not interested. Too lazy to move.”

Chu Xinglan’s eyelashes lowered. He said nothing more.

Ruan Zhao realized how cold his words sounded and quickly tried to cover for it. “It’s just… the weather’s too hot lately. My head feels heavy and foggy, and honestly, I just don’t have the energy to go anywhere.”

Chu Xinglan gave a soft, indifferent “mm” in response.

Ruan Zhao quietly pushed the vegetables back into the middle of his rice bowl and forced himself to eat a couple more bites. He glanced at Chu Xinglan’s face, trying to break the silence. “Are you heading out to practice swordsmanship later?”

“…Yeah.” Ever since they returned to Guiyuan Sect, sword training had once again become a fixed part of Chu Xinglan’s daily routine. But this time, the schedule was different. He no longer ran off to practice at dawn, or trained from morning till night like before. After all, there was someone waiting for him at home now—and he couldn’t bear to leave Ruan Zhao alone for too long.

Finishing the last mouthful of rice, Ruan Zhao spoke up, “I’ll come with you. It’s nice and cool up in the back mountains anyway.”

That quickly cheered Chu Xinglan up. His voice lightened immediately. “Alright.”

……

The back mountain wasn’t far from Ruyun Peak. On foot it would take several hours, but with sword flight, it only took the time for half a cup of tea. Though they called it the “back mountain,” it was really just an untended peak—filled with cliffs, jagged rocks, and dense trees. Because of how rugged and desolate it was, hardly anyone ever came here.

Ruan Zhao found a shaded spot and perched himself on a smooth boulder, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Chu Xinglan practice. He didn’t understand sword techniques. He couldn’t tell how clever the forms were, or how lethal the moves might be. But he was great at cheering people up. Every time Chu Xinglan made a move and carved a long scar into the cliff face, Ruan Zhao would clap enthusiastically. “Wow! So cool, brother!” “Amazing move, brother!”

Every time he did that, Chu Xinglan would pause mid-swing, looking at him with a mix of happiness and helplessness. Ruan Zhao blinked at him. “Why’d you stop? Keep going!”

Chu Xinglan sheathed his sword and walked over. “Zhaozhao, do you want to learn swordsmanship?” The young man hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Your cultivation… it’s already good enough to start learning.”

For a brief second, Ruan Zhao’s expression froze. The air around them seemed to grow heavy—or so it felt to Ruan Zhao. In truth, nothing had really changed. It was his own guilty conscience, his fear of exposing his hidden system that made him feel this way.

After a while, Ruan Zhao looked away, his voice faltering. “You… you already know?”

Chu Xinglan: “It’d be hard not to. It was just… way too obvious.”

Anyone with a bit of skill could tell at a glance—after all, there was a big difference between the Qi Foundation and Golden Core stages. The spiritual energy that lingered around a person didn’t lie. If others could spot it so easily, how could Chu Xinglan not notice?

He had sensed the change in Ruan Zhao from the very first day. He just hadn’t said anything. At first, he assumed Ruan Zhao had been practicing some forbidden technique. Like those rogue cultivators from the Xiaoyao Sect, who gained power by stealing others’ cultivation through intimate contact.

Those days, Ruan Zhao had constantly clung to him—his lips still red and swollen, the corners of his eyes tinted a delicate flush—yet still leaning in, kissing him, a soft tongue teasing lightly at the seam of his lips…

It was so much like those enchantresses from Xiaoyao Sect, experts at bewitching hearts. And each time, after kissing him, Ruan Zhao’s cultivation would improve again.

Back then, Chu Xinglan had even thought—If Zhaozhao wants to take away all of my power, I’d gladly let him. After all, someone as sweet and fragile as Zhaozhao ought to have enough strength to protect himself. As for him… it didn’t matter. At worst, he’d just start over. And with what he’d learned, it wouldn’t take him long to catch up. Yep—classic lovestruck fool behavior.

But soon, Chu Xinglan realized his cultivation wasn’t diminishing at all. Ruan Zhao had encountered some sort of fortune — and wasn’t practicing anything forbidden.

Snapped out of his thoughts, he heard Ruan Zhao’s uncertain voice. “There’s… there’s something I don’t really know how to explain to you…” Ruan Zhao was fiddling with a blade of grass beside the rock, twisting it around his finger until thin red marks appeared on his skin. His heart was a mess—tangled and anxious. He peeked at Chu Xinglan and quickly added, “But I swear—I wasn’t trying to hide it from you on purpose.”

“Then don’t tell me,” Chu Xinglan said gently. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth, completely untroubled by Ruan Zhao’s secrecy. “Everyone has their secrets. Zhaozhao’s little secret… you don’t have to tell me.”

“Brother…” Ruan Zhao’s heart softened. His lips parted—almost blurting out his biggest secret. But before he could, Chu Xinglan swiftly used his sword to whittle down a branch, quickly carving out a wooden practice sword, and handed it to him.

A rough, makeshift wooden sword was suddenly shoved into his hands. Ruan Zhao stared at it, clearly stunned. “…?”

Chu Xinglan’s eyes sparkled, his voice full of hope. “Let me teach you swordsmanship, okay? Once you learn, you’ll be so much stronger—no one at your level will be able to beat you.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Among cultivators of the same stage, sword cultivators really were invincible. In desperate situations, they could even challenge opponents above their level—one against two, and still hold their own. Chu Xinglan himself had once cut down a Nascent Soul stage demonic cultivator while still in the Golden Core stage.

The afternoon sun was still harsh. Even though the temperature wasn’t high, the sunlight felt oppressive on the skin. Ruan Zhao really wanted to refuse. But facing Chu Xinglan’s bright, expectant gaze, the words stuck in his throat. He could only find a gentle excuse. “The sun’s a bit much today… how about we do this another time?”

The classic adult polite rejection—“another time” meaning probably never. But clearly, Chu Xinglan didn’t quite pick up on that. Without missing a beat, he suggested, “We can go down by the cliff. There’s no sun down there.”

Ruan Zhao: “……” Wait… is this a universal sword cultivator obsession? Do you people have to drag someone to train with you?

……

It was painfully obvious Ruan Zhao had no talent for swordsmanship. Chu Xinglan had already handed over Suiying, his own sword, keeping the wooden one for himself to spar—and yet time after time, Ruan Zhao still got disarmed.

“Your grip is wrong.” Chu Xinglan came over and patiently adjusted his hold. “See here—the web between your thumb and finger should press against this spot. Use your thumb and index finger for strength… and don’t let the other three fingers go slack. Keep them relaxed but firm.”

He stood very close. Close enough for Ruan Zhao to catch the faint, clean scent he always carried. Those long, cool fingers gently held Ruan Zhao’s hand, patiently correcting his mistakes.

Chu Xinglan’s expression was serious, his gaze focused. Over and over, he carefully taught Ruan Zhao the basics of how to hold a sword properly. Even when Ruan Zhao kept getting it wrong, he never lost patience.

Listening to Chu Xinglan’s gentle, steady voice, breathing in that cool, faintly crisp scent he always carried—Ruan Zhao’s thoughts began to drift. A familiar warmth surged up from his dantian, making his gaze unconsciously settle on Chu Xinglan’s slightly parted lips…

“…You need to channel your spiritual energy into the sword. Strike fast, precise, and without hesitation—only then will your moves carry real strength. If you can reach the state where you and your sword move as one, no opponent will be able to stand against you.”

He had no idea what Chu Xinglan was talking about. It sounded intense. Hot-blooded. Heroic.

But all he could think about was kissing him. And Ruan Zhao was never the type to deny himself what he wanted. If he wanted something, he just went for it.

So he tugged Chu Xinglan down by his collar—and kissed him. A firm, satisfying kiss on those soft lips. Once he was done, he felt good again. Motivated, even. Ready to keep practicing.

He looked up, pretending innocence. “Oh… I didn’t quite catch what you said earlier. Can you go over it again? A little slower this time—maybe if I really get it, I’ll have a breakthrough and instantly become the world’s greatest sword cultivator.”

Chu Xinglan: “……”

In this kind of situation—who could still focus on teaching swordplay? Of course what he really wanted was…

“…One more kiss.”

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