Axolotl Translations

The system’s revelation that Chu Xinglan was this world’s true protagonist—Heaven’s chosen, blessed by fate—completely shattered Ruan Zhao’s long-held fantasy of being the main character himself.

Just as he was starting to accept this depressing reality, the system hit him with another blow: before they could decide to marry, they would have to go through a breakup. Only then could Chu Xinglan continue along the destined path of a true protagonist and ultimately ascend to the peak of the Dao.

Had he gone mad… or had this entire world lost its mind? For a brief moment, Ruan Zhao thought he must be dreaming. He lightly ran his tongue across his slightly swollen lips, feeling a dull, lingering ache—a mark left by Chu Xinglan’s earlier kisses.

Chu Xinglan hadn’t bitten him this time the way he had before, like a dog gnawing a bone. He hadn’t even used much force. But he’d kissed him for so long, and Ruan Zhao’s lips were naturally soft and tender—just a little sucking had left them puffy and sore, the lightest breeze making them sting.

If he could feel pain… it meant this wasn’t a dream. His mind cleared for a moment. He recalled what the system had just said.

Not only did he have to break up with Chu Xinglan, but it had to be Chu Xinglan who brought it up first. What a ridiculously difficult task.

But… not entirely impossible.

Maybe once he confessed his real gender to Chu Xinglan, Chu Xinglan wouldn’t be able to handle it—and would be the one to suggest breaking up.

The system had given Ruan Zhao rare cultivation techniques, helping him break free from the limitations of his Furnace constitution and escape the fate of a parasitic vine, forever dependent on others. For that, Ruan Zhao still trusted it, at least somewhat. But it didn’t mean he’d blindly accept everything it said without question.

Even so… a vague, hazy suspicion had started to take shape in his mind. It was like a thin veil—unclear, intangible—but his instincts told him he really had come to this world carrying some kind of mission. And what the system spoke of… was probably exactly what he was here to accomplish.

A few scattered, blurry fragments of memory flickered through his mind—but before he could reach out and grasp them, they vanished. The system, sensing the change in him, reacted immediately, its voice trembling with excitement.

[Zhaozhao, did you just remember something?]

Ruan Zhao paused for a moment, then hesitantly shook his head.

[No.]

The system’s voice softened, its disappointment obvious as it drew out a long, resigned “Alright then…”

That damned bug still existed. Ruan Zhao remained trapped in his amnesiac state. There was nothing to do but wait until this world came to an end before things could go back to normal.

The system, well aware of how much Ruan Zhao liked Chu Xinglan, spoke quietly, worried he might struggle because of the mission.

[You don’t actually have to break up with him for real, you know. You can just fake it, act it out together—even if you get back together right after the so-called breakup, it’s fine.]

As long as they put on a convincing enough show, the main system, which always turned a blind eye to its hosts anyway, would let it slide. That way, Ruan Zhao and Chu Xinglan’s relationship wouldn’t be affected at all—and they’d still be able to easily earn their points. Everyone would win.

……

Three days slipped by in the blink of an eye. Soon, the time came for the meeting they had agreed on—the moment Ruan Zhao would finally confess the truth.

To say he wasn’t nervous would be a lie. After all, it was a secret he’d deliberately hidden for six whole years. And six years… changed a lot. Back then, he hadn’t even known how to wear a dress properly—clumsy, always putting it on backwards.

Now, he could easily twist up an elegant hair bun, pairing his hairstyles with different outfits, carefully choosing what would make him look the most convincingly like a girl.

Ruan Zhao sat in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. He wore a flowing white dress, long hair cascading smoothly down to his waist, framing a face so small it could fit within a palm. His skin was pale, his eyes large, his chin delicately pointed. A tall, upturned nose, and lips soft and red, like a half-bloomed flower.

Ruan Zhao had grown used to his own face by now. He no longer really noticed whether he was particularly beautiful or not—but he supposed he must look decent. Otherwise, why would Chu Xinglan always end up staring at him, completely distracted?

Ruan Zhao tied his hair into a high ponytail, fastened it with a hair crown, then changed into a white robe—a man’s garment, embroidered at the cuffs with pale golden cloud patterns, a white jade belt with gold inlay cinched around his slender waist.

Yes—it was Chu Xinglan’s robe. His own storage ring was full of skirts, hairpins, and jewelry—not a single item of male clothing in sight. So in the end, he could only borrow Chu Xinglan’s to wear.

Aside from the robe being a little too big, the sleeves a bit too wide, and the hem so long it could trip someone, there really wasn’t anything terribly wrong with it. Ruan Zhao turned in front of the mirror. It gave him the air of a graceful young man.

Because of his youth, his features hadn’t fully matured yet, carrying a soft androgynous beauty. But now, with his hair no longer styled to deliberately soften his face, and dressed in men’s clothes, no one would mistake him for a girl anymore.

Satisfied, Ruan Zhao stepped outside to find Chu Xinglan. He found him planting peach trees. It was something Ruan Zhao had casually mentioned on the day they first arrived at Ruyun Peak—how, lovely as the peach blossoms were, he actually preferred fresh, juicy peaches.

Chu Xinglan had remembered. He’d spent the last couple of days busying himself with planting. Ruan Zhao would occasionally help out—watering the saplings, loosening the soil, infusing a little spiritual energy at the roots to help them grow faster.

When Ruan Zhao arrived, Chu Xinglan was just finishing planting the last peach sapling. Most of the peach blossoms in the grove had already fallen, their soft pink petals scattered across the ground, trampled into the dust. The sturdy trunks of the old trees were already sprouting bright green branches, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

Among these ancient, towering pines, the freshly planted saplings stood awkwardly—crooked and drooping, each one more dispirited than the last. Their delicate, slender branches looked weak and dry, leaves brittle and thirsty, as though the slightest gust might knock them over.

Some roots were still exposed, half-heartedly covered with clumps of soil that Chu Xinglan had kicked over them. He was a swordsman, after all. Clearly not someone used to this kind of work. Even after several days of planting, his movements were still stiff and clumsy.

He formed a hand seal and summoned a large splash of water from the sky. But the flow was too strong—the already crooked saplings were instantly flattened by the sudden downpour. He’d overwatered.

Chu Xinglan blinked, stunned for a moment, before awkwardly righting the little trees. His spiritual energy surged recklessly into the soil, as though he had an endless supply to burn. Almost immediately, the roots dug deeper into the earth, the saplings straightening, their tender green leaves quivering, standing firm once more.

Ruan Zhao stood quietly to the side, watching for a while. If this had been an ordinary place, saplings planted so carelessly wouldn’t survive more than a few days before withering away.

But Ruyun Peak was a land blessed by nature. Even the water flowing through its lakes was rich with spiritual energy, making it an ideal environment for flowers, plants, and trees. And with the sheer amount of spiritual power Chu Xinglan had poured into them, even dried-up branches would sprout fresh shoots—let alone these lively, vigorous little trees.

It was at this moment that Chu Xinglan seemed to sense his presence. He turned his head, looking toward him. Ruan Zhao’s body instinctively tensed for a moment.

After all, today he wasn’t wearing a dress, nor dressed up like a girl… Chu Xinglan should be able to see it at a glance.

But the young man acted as if he noticed nothing unusual. As always, he curved his lips into a smile and waved. “Zhaozhao, come here.”

Ruan Zhao slowly made his way over. Chu Xinglan reached out, took his hand, and led him to look at the row of little trees he’d planted. The young man’s eyes seemed to shimmer, as if filled with stars, gleaming brightly.

It was as though planting these peach trees gave him even more satisfaction than mastering a new sword technique. He spread his arms wide, grinning. “Zhaozhao, look—these are the trees we planted together.”

Ruan Zhao… felt just a tiny, tiny bit guilty. Because honestly, he hadn’t done much at all. Almost all of these trees had been planted by Chu Xinglan alone—Ruan Zhao had merely followed along now and then, keeping him company.

But Chu Xinglan didn’t care about such details, carrying on happily. “I infused every tree with spiritual energy. If nothing goes wrong, they should bear peaches next year.”

Ruan Zhao’s thoughts were pulled along by his enthusiasm. He couldn’t help asking, “Will the peaches be sweet?”

“The person who sold me the saplings said if they aren’t sweet, I can get my money back anytime.”

“You bought them from a shop?”

“No, from a roadside vendor. A hundred spirit stones per tree.”

Chu Xinglan clearly had no real concept of money. But Ruan Zhao, having lived in the lower realms for a long time, had a decent sense of market prices. Even with soaring prices in the upper realms, a plain, ordinary sapling should never cost a hundred spirit stones.

It was obvious Chu Xinglan had been thoroughly ripped off. Ruan Zhao asked, “Do you know his name? Where he lives?” Chu Xinglan shook his head. After buying the saplings, he’d rushed straight back to Ruyun Peak, eager to plant them and show Ruan Zhao. Asking those basic details hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Ruan Zhao said, “Then what will you do if the peaches turn out sour next year? Where will you find him?” Chu Xinglan blinked, as though he’d never considered that. A trace of frustration flickered across his face.

Ruan Zhao reached out and gently brushed away a smudge of dirt on his face, softening his voice to comfort him. “If we can’t find him, it’s fine. If the peaches aren’t sweet, we can plant more next year.”

Chu Xinglan gave a soft hum in reply. He held Ruan Zhao’s hand a little tighter.

As Ruan Zhao looked at the crooked little saplings, he suddenly remembered why he’d come to find Chu Xinglan in the first place. He tugged his jade belt into place, adjusted his hair crown, and his fingers unconsciously fiddled with the pale gold cloud patterns embroidered on his sleeve—a small, repetitive motion that somehow steadied his heart.

After a moment, he lifted his gaze and stared directly at the boy before him, suddenly asking, “Chu Xinglan, haven’t you noticed something different about me today?”

This time, Ruan Zhao made no effort to adjust his voice to sound like a girl. He spoke in his natural, clear, and pleasant tone—unmistakably that of a young man.

Chu Xinglan stared at him for a while. His ears quietly turned a soft shade of red. Clearing his throat, he said, “You’re wearing my clothes.”

The robes still carried Chu Xinglan’s clean, cool scent, completely wrapping around Ruan Zhao, like an invisible mark left by him. Having it stated so bluntly made Ruan Zhao’s fingers curl, gripping the sleeve tightly. He hurried to explain, “I… couldn’t find anything else to wear. So I had to borrow yours for now. It looks good, but it doesn’t really fit. It’s loose, the sleeves are way too long — it’s only thanks to the belt that it isn’t falling off… No, wait—”

As he spoke, Ruan Zhao’s brows gradually furrowed, his voice rising a little, “That’s all you noticed?”

In Chu Xinglan’s pale golden eyes, a hint of puzzlement appeared. “There’s something else?”

Ruan Zhao took a deep breath, as if making some kind of decision. He took Chu Xinglan’s hand and pressed it against his own face, guiding the boy’s fingertips to trace along his features, one by one. “This time, you can tell, right?”

Chu Xinglan: “…?”

Ruan Zhao: “…” I give up.

Even though Chu Xinglan hadn’t said a word, Ruan Zhao could clearly see the confusion in his eyes. He started to suspect whether there was something wrong with Chu Xinglan’s eyesight.

He’d hinted this blatantly—how could the boy still not realize anything? So, with a sudden tug, Ruan Zhao brought Chu Xinglan’s hand lower, placing it directly against his chest.

…Soft to the touch. But without the curve that should belong to a woman. It was a silent, undeniable confession of his real gender.

Ruan Zhao had acted on impulse, and now his face was tinged with a faint blush. He could feel Chu Xinglan’s palm rapidly heating up—so hot it seemed to set off a matching warmth in his own body.

“Zhaozhao…” Chu Xinglan’s voice grew husky, his gaze visibly darkening. His hand slid down, encircling Ruan Zhao’s waist, pulling him into his arms. His voice was low and strained. “We shouldn’t do this kind of thing… out here.”

It might have sounded a little more convincing if Chu Xinglan wasn’t simultaneously tightening his hold, firmly drawing Ruan Zhao against him.

Ruan Zhao pressed both hands against Chu Xinglan’s chest, trying to push him back. “Stop hugging me for a second—let go first…”

Chu Xinglan’s feverish fingertips brushed his waist, sending a strange, tingling ache through him. “I haven’t even finished what I was trying to say.”

But Chu Xinglan ignored him completely. He kept up the sweet words while doing exactly the opposite—saying they couldn’t do this outside, yet leaning down, inching closer, clearly wanting to kiss Ruan Zhao.

Ruan Zhao quickly raised a hand to block Chu Xinglan’s mouth.

Chu Xinglan’s long, thick lashes lowered as he gazed down at him. His eyelashes were so long, dark, and slightly curled at the ends. The folds of his eyelids were deep, and when his gaze dropped like this, it came with a natural tenderness—like a soft, invisible warmth wrapping around Ruan Zhao.

It felt as though no matter how Ruan Zhao changed, this person would always like him, unwavering and constant. Ruan Zhao’s heart skipped an unsteady beat.

Ruan Zhao took a deep breath, and all the words he’d kept bottled inside tumbled out in a rush. “Are you really this dense or just pretending? Can’t you tell I’ve been lying to you this whole time? I’m not a girl. I’ve been dressing like one for years, pretending to be your fiancée, using you to secure a place for myself in the lower realm. Without you, someone would’ve claimed me as a furnace long ago—drained me dry and tossed me aside.”

“…That’s everything?” Chu Xinglan’s expression barely shifted, his tone as calm as ever. Ruan Zhao hadn’t expected that kind of reaction. For a moment, he just stared blankly, then gave a slow, stiff nod. “Yeah… that’s everything.”

Chu Xinglan’s gaze fell to Ruan Zhao’s lips—soft, pink, and slightly parted. There was a tiny, almost hidden bead-like mark just inside, one that only revealed itself after a long, lingering kiss. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes darkening, his voice dropping low. “…Then, can I kiss you now?”

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