Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao never imagined that after revealing his biggest secret, Chu Xinglan’s reaction would be like this. He blinked, a little thrown off, unsure of what was happening. His voice came out dry and cautious. “Did you… not hear what I just said?”

Chu Xinglan nodded, his gaze serious. “I heard you perfectly.” Every single word, loud and clear.

Ruan Zhao frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Then… you really don’t care? Not even a little?”

Chu Xinglan lifted Ruan Zhao’s chin, his thumb brushing lightly over his lips. The moment he felt the softness of them, his touch instinctively gentled, shifting into a slow, featherlight stroke. His eyes locked onto Ruan Zhao’s lips like gravity itself had taken hold—like he was one breath away from giving in.

“I’ve known for a long time,” he said quietly. “Why would I care?”

Ruan Zhao’s eyes widened. But before he could speak, Chu Xinglan kissed him. His other hand covered Ruan Zhao’s eyes, blocking out the world and plunging him into darkness. His cool voice, laced with warmth and heat, sounded right by his ear. The soft brush of breath against his skin sent shivers down his spine. “I knew from the first moment I met you.”

It was like a firework exploded inside Ruan Zhao’s mind—brilliant, chaotic, and impossible to process. Chu Xinglan kissed him again, hard and eager, like someone starved of this touch for a lifetime.

In a heartbeat, their lips parted, and the kiss deepened—wet, hot, and messy. Unlike before, Ruan Zhao didn’t push him away, didn’t bite his tongue to stop him. He let him in.

From the moment he first laid eyes on him—back at that bustling lantern fair, when the small figure had crashed straight into his arms—Chu Xinglan had known. This wasn’t a little girl. He was a mess that day, dressed in a dirty skirt, hair tangled, face smudged with streaks of mud.

But even through the grime, his features were striking, almost too pretty to belong to a child. His voice was soft, gentle, childlike—but something inside Chu Xinglan just knew. He knew the person in his arms was in disguise.

Now, as their lips finally parted, a strand of glistening silver stretched between them before breaking. Chu Xinglan licked the swollen curve of Ruan Zhao’s lips, then bit down softly—just enough to make him tremble in his arms.

A low, helpless moan slipped from Ruan Zhao’s mouth. Furnace physiques were always sensitive.

Even the slightest hint of intimacy would trigger a sharp reaction. Chu Xinglan didn’t push any further. He paused, his voice husky as he spoke. “I always thought… you liked dressing up like a girl. That’s why you wore skirts and jewelry, made yourself look like a pretty little girl.”

Ruan Zhao’s legs had gone weak from the kiss. He was barely standing, only managing to stay upright by clinging to the boy’s strong arm. His voice carried a soft, breathy tone as he spoke. “No… it’s not like that.”

He finally told him the truth. “It was the head of the Ruan family. He forced me… threatened me. Said a furnace with a girl’s identity would be valuable, but a male one would only be despised—no one would want me. He said if I ever let this secret slip, I’d spend the rest of my life locked away in some backyard, treated like a stray animal, never seeing daylight again.”

His throat tightened. “After I was kidnapped and managed to escape, I ran into you. You saved me from those people… And I thought, maybe you picked me up because you thought I was a cute little girl. That you wanted a little sister to take home.”

Chu Xinglan listened quietly, then suddenly reached out and pinched Ruan Zhao’s cheek. The soft flesh beneath his fingers was smooth and warm. With a rare serious tone, he teased, “Well, you were adorable back then. Like a soft little rice ball.”

“I remember thinking—how could anyone look this cute? And when you looked up at me with those tearful eyes… my heart melted. There was no way I could refuse you anything.”

So when Ruan Zhao asked to go with him, he hadn’t hesitated to whisk him away to the Chu family estate. And in some dark corner of his heart—a thought had flickered.

He wanted to hide him away. To never let anyone else see him. To keep him just for himself—as his own little brother. And truthfully… even now, those possessive thoughts hadn’t faded. Especially when those pale-colored eyes stared straight at him, unblinking. The unspoken desire inside him surged to its peak.

On the surface, he was a bright, flawless, untouchable cultivator. Maintaining his cool, virtuous image with discipline, scriptures, and the Clear Heart Sutra. But inside…

Ruan Zhao wasn’t prepared for the sudden cheek pinch. He tried to lean away, but Chu Xinglan followed, refusing to let go. In the end, he had no choice but to let him do as he pleased, speaking with a slight slur as his cheek was pinched. “Well… what about now? Am I still cute?”

Chu Xinglan’s voice dropped, low and rough. “…Still cute.”

It was a different kind of cute. The kind that made him want to kiss him, hold him close… and maybe do things far more inappropriate than that.

Hearing Chu Xinglan call him cute, Ruan Zhao smiled in satisfaction, his eyes curving into happy crescents. He wrapped his arms around Chu Xinglan’s waist and buried his face against the boy’s chest, hearing the slightly quickened beat of his heart.

“I… I was too young back then,” Ruan Zhao murmured, “I didn’t understand anything. Of course I believed whatever the adults told me. It wasn’t like I meant to keep it from you.”

And later, once he got older and finally understood what it really meant to be a fiancée, it only made him more afraid to say anything.

He didn’t have the power to protect himself. He was entirely dependent on Chu Xinglan’s protection to survive in the Ruan family, and on the prestige of the Upper Realm Chu family to keep others from coveting him. He didn’t dare gamble his life on the chance that Chu Xinglan wouldn’t care. So, he’d let the lie continue. Let it grow.

But thankfully—it had been a beautiful misunderstanding right from the start. Fate had taken a crooked path, but somehow… they still ended up here. “Brother, I’m sorry,” Ruan Zhao said softly. “I should’ve told you earlier.”

“It’s alright. It’s not too late now,” Chu Xinglan reassured him gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His voice was soft, calming. “Besides, I was at fault too… for not noticing your worries sooner.”

“No matter if it’s the you in skirts and hairpins, pretending to be a girl… or the you in my robes and my hair crown, as your true self—I love you all the same.” Love him so much it was unbearable.

Ruan Zhao’s voice softened to a whisper. “I really like you too, brother.”

“…I really love Chu Xinglan.”

It was the first time Chu Xinglan had ever heard Ruan Zhao say it so plainly, without hesitation. For a moment, his body froze, as though his breath caught in his throat.

A wild surge of emotion burst in his chest, making his arms tighten involuntarily, his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh at Ruan Zhao’s waist.

Ruan Zhao winced slightly and couldn’t help but softly protest, “Hey… not so hard, you’re hurting me.”

Chu Xinglan let out a soft hum and loosened his grip. The two of them held each other for a while longer before finally letting go.

“Since we both feel the same, and there are no more secrets between us…” Chu Xinglan tested the waters carefully, “does that mean… we can go ahead and set a wedding date?”

…As expected, he brought it up. Now that the only thing standing between them was resolved, Ruan Zhao felt much more at ease. He wasn’t quite so resistant to the idea of marriage anymore. Blushing, he said, “How about the month after next?”

“You said before that the sixteenth of the month after next is an especially lucky day for a wedding,” Ruan Zhao began setting his terms. “But—you can’t tell anyone about it. I don’t like crowds, and I don’t want a bunch of people swarming around me. I hate all those messy, over-the-top ceremonies. I don’t even know anyone from Guiyuan Sect that well. If they all came, it’d just be awkward… When we make our bond official, I just want it to be the two of us.”

He hesitated, then added considerately, “Well… maybe your master too. Since cultivators here seem to really respect their masters—I know how important he is to you.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Chu Xinglan agreed. The atmosphere between the two was sweet and sticky, like honey—the way they looked at each other could practically string out into soft, invisible threads.

And then—at the worst possible moment—the system gave a loud, deliberate cough. Once, then twice, each time more pointed than the last, as if to remind Ruan Zhao of the task he still hadn’t completed.

Sure—being together was fine. Marriage? Fine. Even leaving marks on each other’s souls, making vows before Heaven itself, and becoming lifelong Dao partners—still fine. But before that… they had to break up at least once.

Ruan Zhao’s expression stiffened ever so slightly. He tried his best to act natural, steeling himself inwardly. “But before that, you have to agree to one more condition,” he said.

Chu Xinglan replied without hesitation, “Say it.” Forget one condition—even if it were ten, a hundred, a thousand, he’d agree to them all without blinking.

Ruan Zhao took a deep breath, dodging Chu Xinglan’s gaze, and under the system’s relentless prodding, finally forced the words out with difficulty. “Before we get married… can we… maybe break up for a bit?”

Chu Xinglan: “…………”

“…Hm?”

He thought he must have heard wrong, so he confirmed with Ruan Zhao again. “The breakup you’re talking about… is it what I think it is?”

Ruan Zhao forced out a single word, “…Yes.”

He cautiously glanced up at Chu Xinglan, and saw the dark, heavy look clouding his eyes, the tight knit of his brows. The boy’s expression was turning downright ugly—he probably thought Ruan Zhao was messing with him, playing some cruel joke.

Just after agreeing to marry him, now he suddenly brought up breaking up… no one in the world could accept something like that. “I don’t agree.” Chu Xinglan’s voice had gone cold. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Wait, don’t be in such a hurry to refuse—hear me out first.” Ruan Zhao tugged gently at his sleeve, swaying it a little, his voice softening like a plea. “It’s just pretend, we don’t actually have to split up. We can say we broke up, and then immediately get back together.”

Chu Xinglan’s frown eased slightly, though he still couldn’t help asking, “Then what’s the point of breaking up at all?”

Ruan Zhao averted his gaze. He couldn’t reveal the system’s existence—so he had no choice but to shoulder the blame himself. “Just… treat it like I’m having one of my dramatic moments, and I want to act out a little scene.”

Even though Chu Xinglan was unwilling, in the end he could only reluctantly accept this answer. And so, he started acting along with Ruan Zhao.

The system, meanwhile, had long since planned out a whole sequence of steps, just waiting for Ruan Zhao to put them into action. It flipped open its little notebook, and in a deadly serious tone, read aloud: [What we need to do now is crush Chu Xinglan’s pride, trample his feelings, make him grow disgusted with you—and then naturally, justifiably, separate.]

Ruan Zhao frowned. [That’s not what you said before.]

[It’s all acting, isn’t it? If we’re going to pretend, we have to do it properly—make it convincing, make it believable. Even if it’s fake, it needs to look real. That’s the only way to fool people.]

[Fine.] Ruan Zhao sighed.

[Then what do I have to do?]

[Be willful. Be unreasonable. Stir up trouble. Pick fights for no reason. No matter what Chu Xinglan does, you’re not satisfied. No matter how well he treats you, find something to criticize. Just act as annoying as possible—over and over, six, seven, eight times—until he finally gets a little fed up and brings up breaking up with you. Then you’re good.]

……

It took them three days to act out this play.

For three full days, Ruan Zhao didn’t stop making trouble, fussing, and being impossible.

At one meal, halfway through eating, he suddenly slammed his chopsticks down with a sharp clack, his small face cold and stiff. “If this meal doesn’t have that one dish, I’m not eating it.”

Chu Xinglan, right on cue, slipped into his role. “Next time I’ll definitely make it for you.”

“But I want it right now.”

Chu Xinglan lowered his gaze, finally compromising. “I’ll go down the mountain and buy it for you. Wait here—I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Ruan Zhao furrowed his pretty brows, secretly shooting Chu Xinglan a look.

Chu Xinglan caught on immediately, moving all the food off the table in a flash.

The next second — bang! Ruan Zhao flipped the entire table over. The wooden tabletop rolled several times across the floor, bumping against the door before finally coming to a stop.

Ruan Zhao’s voice was icy. “If I can’t eat what I want, then nobody eats.”

……

In the middle of the night, he would wake Chu Xinglan up, saying he wanted to go down into the valley to practice swordsmanship. But as soon as they arrived, he’d change his mind, saying he wanted to go back and sleep.

This back-and-forth happened two or three times. In the end, Ruan Zhao was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open, his eyelids sticking together no matter how hard he tried to separate them. He finally slumped onto Chu Xinglan’s broad back, and in a dazed, half-asleep haze, he heard the other’s low, helpless murmur. “You can torment me all you like… but why make yourself suffer too…”

Ruan Zhao instinctively tightened his arms around him, as if lacking any sense of security, holding on even closer. His slender arms looped completely around Chu Xinglan’s neck.

It was all the system’s fault. Dragging them into this ridiculous task, making them both too exhausted to even get a decent night’s sleep—running around like this in the middle of the night.

Forget it… it wasn’t really the system’s fault either. It wasn’t like it wanted things to turn out this way.

Ruan Zhao rested his cheek against Chu Xinglan’s back, listening to the soft chirping of insects in the forest. Beneath the frost-bright moonlight, with the steady, quiet sound of the boy’s footsteps, they made their way home—together.

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