Axolotl Translations

As the meeting drew to a close, Liang Zhao quietly steered Gu Mengran out of the main hall. Once they were completely out of sight of the others, he immediately quickened his pace and pulled Gu Mengran into a nearby alley, pushing open an old wooden door.

He slid the bolt shut behind them with one hand. Without even a pause, Liang Zhao tightened his grip on Gu Mengran’s wrist, then gently drew him into his arms, a firm hand resting on his shoulder.

Fear, confusion, anger… Gu Mengran hadn’t uttered a single word, but Liang Zhao could feel the tempest of emotions radiating from him.

It definitely wasn’t something as simple as accidentally falling off a boat. Liang Zhao removed the hood of his raincoat, now thoroughly soaked, and pressed his chin lightly against Gu Mengran’s damp hair, soothing him like a child with soft pats on the back—steady, gentle, patient.

He didn’t ask questions, didn’t press. Liang Zhao comforted him the way a large, loyal dog might, using quiet presence and touch to offer warmth and calm.

And it worked. After just a few minutes, Gu Mengran slowly returned to himself. He lifted his arms and hugged Liang Zhao tightly, clinging to him as if he wanted to disappear into his body.

“It’s okay now, it’s okay,” Liang Zhao murmured, letting him hold on. He lowered his chin, brushing his lips against Gu Mengran’s soft hair. “You recognized that man, didn’t you? Can you tell me what really happened? If you don’t want to, that’s fine too. I’ll take you home, alright?”

Gu Mengran didn’t respond. He simply shook his head against Liang Zhao’s chest.

That was a no—but to what? He didn’t know him? Or didn’t want to talk? Clearly the latter.

Liang Zhao’s gaze darkened. He gently pinched the cold tip of Gu Mengran’s ear and leaned in close to whisper, “I’ve seen the Yongyue before. In that dream—you fell off that ship. I know they’re not good people. They hurt you, didn’t they?”

At those words, Gu Mengran trembled again in his arms.

But before Liang Zhao could offer comfort again, Gu Mengran pushed back, lifting his head. He looked like a small dog caught in the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes rimmed with red.

Like someone who had been deeply wronged, Gu Mengran furrowed his brows, lips trembling as he complained bitterly, “Not just not good people—those bastards are rotten to the core! They used that damn ship to bully and kill like tyrants, doing whatever the hell they wanted…”

He was fuming, barely able to string his curses together fast enough. Liang Zhao simply held him close, listening patiently and rubbing his back now and then.

Eventually, the outburst subsided. Gu Mengran tucked his face back into Liang Zhao’s chest and sighed, his voice muffled and helpless. “You probably think it’s weird, huh? I mean… it was just a dream…”

“No,” Liang Zhao cut him off softly, his thumb brushing the corner of Gu Mengran’s reddened eye. His voice held a quiet ache, as if something had pierced straight into his heart. “It wasn’t just a dream.”

Though he didn’t know the full story, the signs were unmistakable—Gu Mengran had lived through something real. Something brutal. And it had left deep scars.

A broken leg. A disfigured face… In Liang Zhao’s mind’s eye, he saw a version of Gu Mengran collapsed in despair, utterly hopeless, stripped of the will to live. His breathing grew uneven—there was no way he could continue pretending it was just a dream.

“Liang Zhao?”

The soft voice pulled him back. He looked down into Gu Mengran’s wide, searching eyes. He gave his head a quick pat and offered a slight smile. “I’m fine.”

Gu Mengran wasn’t convinced. He squinted at him suspiciously. “Stop overthinking. Yeah, some bad stuff happened, but it was just a dream. Don’t take it so seriously.”

“Why are you comforting me now?” Liang Zhao tilted his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Gu Mengran took a deep breath. “Because I’m okay. I’ve thought it through.”

He’d been granted a second chance—a life that had already diverged significantly from the path of his past. He never anticipated crossing paths with the Yongyue or Dong Hongbo again. After all, that cruise ship had nearly claimed his life. And when you’ve stared death in the face, trauma like that doesn’t simply vanish.

That cursed ship. That two-faced captain. Just seeing them from afar was enough to dredge up the worst memories—and all the fear he’d buried deep within.

His initial instinct upon seeing Dong Hongbo? Revenge. To settle the score for the man he used to be.

But after the storm of rage and the torrent of curses, he began to calm down. And reality slowly settled in: he wasn’t alone anymore. He had a boat. A home. Family, friends… someone he loved.

This time, they’d encountered the Yongyue earlier than before. They knew nothing about its crew, its numbers, or the true nature of the threat they posed. It was like walking blind into the darkness. Any move they made under their watchful eyes would be perilous.

They say happy people let things go. If you step in something disgusting, just change your shoes—don’t burn your house down because of it. Venting your anger by putting yourself and your loved ones at risk? Not worth it.

It had taken a long time, but Gu Mengran had finally convinced himself of that. And so, he spoke the words: “I’ve thought it through.”

As his voice faded, Liang Zhao simply looked at him—silent, unmoving.

Gu Mengran began to feel a little awkward under the unwavering gaze. He turned his head and muttered, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’ve come to terms with it.” Liang Zhao lowered his gaze, the smile fixed on his lips as he drew Gu Mengran even closer.

Gu Mengran didn’t notice the subtle shift in his expression. He believed him.

The tension etched on Gu Mengran’s face slowly eased. Buried in Liang Zhao’s arms, he remained quiet for a few seconds, lost in thought. Then he poked Liang Zhao’s arm and said, “You know dreams and reality are usually connected, right? That bunch probably isn’t anything good. I think we really ought to warn the villagers—tell them not to get on that boat.”

Back in the main hall, he’d been zoning out for most of the conversation. It was obvious he’d missed a significant amount of the details.

Liang Zhao gently rubbed his head, his expression growing even more serious. “It’s a bit tricky. That wasn’t a negotiation—it was a threat. Tomorrow is the deadline. If Sister Fang can’t give them a satisfactory answer, they’ll probably resort to force.”

“No way…” Gu Mengran blinked, stunned. “There’s over a hundred people in the village! Sure, most of them are older, but numbers still count. Everyone grabs a stick, and we could beat them off the island, easy!”

Liang Zhao shook his head, firm. “There are more people on the ship. Most of them are young. We don’t know exactly how many, but if they’ve come this far, they must be confident they can handle it.”

Gu Mengran inhaled sharply. “That’s the weird part. Captain Dong isn’t exactly some noble hero. If he’s so sure, why not just attack? Why bother with this fake courtesy first?”

“Well,” Liang Zhao said, “even with a hundred people, unless he has an overwhelming advantage, starting a fight still carries risk. I’m guessing the numbers on both sides are close. But more importantly… they have Xiao Zhou.”

He let out a quiet sigh between his lips. “Xiao Zhou is originally from Shijin Village. Judging by the way things went today, he probably had just as much influence here as Duan Yueyan and Sister Fang. What he says carries weight—and he doesn’t need to sway everyone. Just a few is enough.”

A chill crawled up Gu Mengran’s spine. He stared blankly at Liang Zhao, murmuring, “Yeah… they don’t actually care about the older folks. What they’re really after is the supplies. The village’s stockpile was built up by everyone together. If some people want to leave and others don’t, it’ll tear the village apart just trying to decide how to divide things.”

When a whole village stands united, they can still fight back.

But collective bonds, no matter how solid they seem, are often fragile. All it takes is a little self-interest to fracture everything. And once that happens—once they’re split—it’ll be easy to pick them off one by one.

Dong Hongbo wasn’t just ruthless. No matter who stayed or left, the villagers were unlikely to emerge from this unscathed.

People weren’t made of stone. After nearly a year of living here, Gu Mengran had genuinely grown fond of this place—especially sweet, silly Xiao Dong, the warm-hearted Sister Fang, and all the chatty aunties…

Bang!

Before he could formulate a solution, the wooden door behind them suddenly rattled with a loud bang.

The door, which had been latched from the inside, creaked open just a crack before springing back shut.

A familiar male voice drifted in from outside. “Huh? Why won’t it open? Is the door broken?”

“…Xiao Dong?” Liang Zhao called out.

“L-Liang Zhao?” Xiao Dong’s confused voice came through from the other side.

Everything fell quiet for a moment on both sides of the door. Liang Zhao released Gu Mengran and reached up to slide the latch open. As the wooden door creaked inward, Xiao Dong appeared, dripping wet and standing dazed in the doorway.

They stared at each other in awkward silence until Xiao Dong finally broke it. Glancing between the two of them, he grumbled, “I’ve been looking all over for you two, and turns out you’re hiding in my house? With the door locked?”

Liang Zhao nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Your place was the closest. Thought we’d borrow it for a bit.”

“Those guys—they’re really staying the night in the village?” Gu Mengran quickly interjected before Xiao Dong could launch into a tirade.

Xiao Dong darted his eyes around warily, then stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and sliding the latch back into place. He lowered his voice. “Don’t get me started. Sister Fang and I just finished settling them in. What a bunch of arrogant jerks—acting like they own the place, noses so high they’re practically looking at the sky.”

Gu Mengran, clearly on edge, shot him a glare. “Forget their attitude. Listen to me: those people aren’t here to help. They’re not taking anyone anywhere—they’re after your supplies. That’s all.”

A long, heavy sigh echoed in the small room.

Xiao Dong ran a hand through his wet hair and sagged visibly. “Sister Fang said the same thing. And here I was, dumb enough to believe… I thought my cousin actually came back to save us! I don’t get it—we never did anything to him. Why the hell—?”

“Save the ranting, Xiao Dong.” Gu Mengran cut him off, his brows furrowing tighter. “Right now we need a plan.”

“What plan? We’ve only got one night! Worst case… we just fight back. Take them down with us if we have to.” Xiao Dong’s head drooped, his eyes reddening.

“Tch.” Gu Mengran clicked his tongue in frustration. “Don’t talk like that. Where’s your Brother Duan? I haven’t seen him at all. What’s his take on this?”

“He’s out,” Xiaodong sniffled. “We’ve been looking for a boat for a while, right? Searched everywhere nearby, came up empty. So this morning, Brother Duan took Uncle Luo and a few others to check farther out—toward Huangjiang.”

Huangjiang? With everything underwater these days, you’d be lucky just to know which way was east. Going out there without knowing the terrain? They could get lost for good.

With their backbone gone at such a critical moment, by the time he got back, the damage might already be irreparable.

Gu Mengran rubbed his temples, a headache beginning to bloom. He glanced at Xiao Dong, his eyes filled with helplessness. “I don’t know if you guys even have a plan. You keep beating around the bush and won’t say anything. A whole village of people can’t just pack up and leave. What matters right now is keeping the elders calm. We can’t fall apart before they even make a move.”

“I know.” Xiao Dong nodded quickly, like a pecking chicken. Then something seemed to dawn on him, and he looked up at Gu Mengran with a trace of reluctance in his eyes. “You two should rest here at my place. When it gets dark, find a chance to slip out.”

“There are people from their side patrolling the village, even stationed at the entrance. You’ll have to circle around from the back, over the hillside. Be careful—don’t alert anyone. Once you make it to the boat, head out right away. Don’t overthink it, just go.”

It was the first time Gu Mengran had heard Xiao Dong speak with such gravity. He blinked in surprise, then caught the hidden meaning in his words. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “That your decision… or Sister Fang’s?”

“Sister Fang’s,” Xiao Dong answered honestly.

Sending their strongest allies away at a time like this—it left Gu Mengran with a bitter, indescribable feeling.

His grandfather and Zheng Yijie still didn’t know what was happening. Either way, they’d have to return to the Windwing. As for whether they could actually offer any assistance…

“Xiao Dong, come here a sec.”

Liang Zhao’s low, raspy voice cut into his thoughts. When Gu Mengran looked up, Liang Zhao had already walked over to the inner room, one hand resting on the door handle.

Gu Mengran was still processing the situation when Xiao Dong quickly followed him in. The door creaked shut behind them with a soft click, leaving Gu Mengran alone outside.

Huh? Seriously? Whispering behind his back?

Gu Mengran stood there, completely dumbfounded.

Luckily, they didn’t leave him hanging for too long. About ten minutes later, the door opened again, and Xiao Dong stepped out with Liang Zhao following behind him.

Xiao Dong didn’t say much. He just gave Gu Mengran a friendly nod, unlatched the door, and walked out into the night.

Liang Zhao came back to stand by his side. Gu Mengran turned to him with a frown, unable to suppress his curiosity. “What was that about? Why’d you pull him aside like that?”

“Nothing,” Liang Zhao replied, his eyes on the floor as he let out a soft chuckle. “Just gave him a little idea.”

“What kind of idea I can’t hear?”

“A sneaky one. Didn’t want you to hear it.”

“But now I really want to know!”

“I’ll tell you tonight.”

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