Axolotl Translations

The gentle breeze seemed to freeze in that moment, the world around them quietly fading away until, in Chu Xinglan’s eyes, there was no one left but Ruan Zhao.

He lowered his head, a little dazed as he stared at the boy before him.

Ruan Zhao’s lips curved in a bright, carefree smile. His pale eyes shimmered as if holding countless tiny stars—beautiful and impossible to look away from.

Perhaps annoyed that Chu Xinglan hadn’t reacted, distracted even as he spoke, Ruan Zhao’s smile faded slightly. He reached out, hooking an arm around Chu Xinglan’s neck and tugged him down, staring straight at him as he drawled, a touch of displeasure in his voice, “Did you even hear what I just said?”

Chu Xinglan paused, then softly answered, “I did.”

Ruan Zhao half-squinted, clearly skeptical. “Then repeat it back to me.”

“You said…” Chu Xinglan hesitated under that unblinking gaze, his head turning almost imperceptibly as if trying to evade it. His voice remained steady, but the tips of his ears flushed red, betraying the calm he tried to project. “You said if I wanted… you’d wear skirts just for me.”

“And do you want that?”

Ruan Zhao leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper-soft murmur, like feathers brushing against Chu Xinglan’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Chu Xinglan’s lashes trembled.

Something flickered in his gaze, darkening it. After a long beat, he answered quietly, “…I do.”

Ruan Zhao laughed softly at that. He found it endlessly amusing—how this person, after everything they’d done together, holding each other, kissing, sharing so many intimate things… could still blush so easily. Still so easy to tease.

Finding new delight in this, Ruan Zhao leaned in again, his lips brushing lightly against the corner of Chu Xinglan’s mouth. His voice shifted effortlessly, softening and rising into the clear, sweet lilt of a girl’s. “Since my brother likes it so much, how about this—when we get married, I’ll wear a bright red wedding dress and marry you properly, hmm?”

Ruan Zhao tilted his head, as if it were nothing serious. “A wedding dress should be a hundred, a thousand times prettier than any skirt I’ve worn before, don’t you think?”

Chu Xinglan’s breath hitched, his heartbeat picking up speed, completely beyond his control. He lifted his gaze, looking directly at Ruan Zhao.

The boy’s face was cool and distant, his expression naturally aloof, carrying an air of elegance and restraint. The slight upward tilt at the corners of his eyes made him seem untouchable—the kind of person who, no matter how hard others tried to get close, would never spare them a glance.

And yet, this same boy—this flawless, otherworldly cultivator—was now the one who, with just a few of Ruan Zhao’s words, was knocked off balance. Chu Xinglan’s eyes burned with a fierce, scorching fire, so intense it almost hurt to be caught in its gaze.

Ruan Zhao, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere, stiffened. It hit him belatedly that Chu Xinglan was far from as harmless as he appeared.

He remembered too clearly those times when he’d been pulled into that same burning-hot embrace, kissed senseless and pinned tightly against a broad chest, completely unable to resist. His waist still seemed to recall the heat of those hands, the sensation seeping through thin layers of fabric, pressing in deep against his skin.

Those kisses had left him aching. His lips had turned swollen, bright red and tender, the skin around them stained with flushed pink. Even breathing too hard made them sting with a sharp, lingering ache.

And yet, despite his obvious distress, Chu Xinglan had shown no intention of letting him go. He just kept kissing him, unrelenting—even stealing the tears that slipped down his cheeks, swallowing his choked pleas for mercy as if he hadn’t heard a word. It was cruel. And far over the line.

And back then… Chu Xinglan had looked at him with this very same gaze.

Ruan Zhao blinked, realizing maybe—just maybe—he’d pushed a little too far this time. The words he’d spoken had gone too far. And the consequences about to follow… might not be something he could handle.

He let go of Chu Xinglan’s neck and slipped out of his arms, cautiously creating some distance between them. Pretending to busy himself, he looked around and finally spotted an empty water bucket lying on the ground not far away.

“One bucket’s probably not enough for this many saplings,” he mumbled, half to himself. “I’ll go… down the mountain to fetch more water—”

But before he could finish, a hand grabbed his wrist and tugged him back into a firm embrace. The fingers holding him felt hot. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Ruan Zhao tested the grip, trying to pull free—but it didn’t budge. Feigning calm, he asked, “Why are you grabbing me? Didn’t you hear me say I’m going down to get water?”

“The water can wait,” Chu Xinglan replied unhurriedly. “If you really want to water the trees, Zhaozhao, I can summon a mountain spring up here right now. No need for you to keep running back and forth every day.” For a cultivator at the Nascent Soul stage, reshaping a bit of terrain was no big deal.

But Ruan Zhao wasn’t having it. Life at Ruyun Peak was already pure indulgence for him—eat, sleep, repeat.

Once in a while, on a whim, he’d go to the back mountain to practice swordplay with Chu Xinglan. But it never lasted more than a couple of hours before he started whining, complaining his arms ached, his legs hurt, or that he was too tired.

Chu Xinglan spoiled him too. If he didn’t want to train, he didn’t have to. If he felt like stopping, he could rest anytime.

If any other Guiyun Sect disciple behaved like this—three days training, two days slacking—without even a shred of persistence, Suiying’s master would’ve scolded them half to death by now.

Ruan Zhao didn’t care much for swordplay, nor was he fond of leaving the house. His only exercise was making the trip down the mountain to fetch water. He’d fill a heavy bucket to the brim, spill half of it on the way up, then carefully ration the rest for each of the peach tree saplings.

The truth was, the saplings didn’t really need the water, much less the tiny trace of spiritual energy mixed in it. Ruan Zhao just needed something to do. If he didn’t, he felt like this idle, indulgent lifestyle—all eating and sleeping—would have him gaining five pounds a month.

So without hesitation, he refused Chu Xinglan’s suggestion. He wasn’t about to let him take away the one bit of exercise he had left.

Chu Xinglan had just been casually offering—he didn’t mind dropping the topic when Ruan Zhao said no. He wasn’t the type to force him. Besides, that hadn’t really been the point.

Chu Xinglan didn’t want anything else stealing Ruan Zhao’s attention right now. He reached over, snatching the wooden bucket from his hand and tossing it aside without a second thought. Then, using just two fingers, he gently pinched Ruan Zhao’s chin, turning his face toward him—wanting him to see no one and nothing else but him.

Maybe his gaze was too intense, because Ruan Zhao faltered first, hurriedly looking away, his breathing growing uneven.

“Don’t avoid me, Zhaozhao,” Chu Xinglan said softly, his clear voice carrying a slight huskiness as it brushed against Ruan Zhao’s ear. “Look at me.”

“…I want to know,” Chu Xinglan spoke softly, “were you serious about what you just said?”

Ruan Zhao blinked, confused. “Serious about what?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about.”

Ruan Zhao: “…”

Alright, fine. He really wanted to say no.

Wanted to tell him he was just messing around, teasing him for fun—that he’d never seriously thought about wearing a wedding robe. It wasn’t something that had ever crossed his mind. But somehow… the words stuck in his throat.

He lowered his gaze, eyelashes trembling, pretending not to understand, hoping he could bluff his way out of this.

But Chu Xinglan wasn’t going to let it slide so easily. In a low voice, he said, “There’s a wedding robe in the storage ring I gave you. It’s beautiful—tucked away in the very back of the cabinet, hidden right in the corner. I… I bought it on my eighteenth birthday. I was hoping… someday, I could give it to you.” He paused, his voice carrying a soft, tentative hope. “Zhaozhao… would you wear it for me? Right now?”

Ruan Zhao’s eyes widened in shock, staring at Chu Xinglan in disbelief.

He looked up at the sky. The clear blue stretched endlessly overhead, the sun blazing bright and hot. In broad daylight, talking like this… Had this guy lost his mind? Right now? What was he even dreaming about?

Ruan Zhao lifted a hand and covered Chu Xinglan’s eyes. “Go to sleep. You can have anything you want in your dreams.”

Chu Xinglan blinked, his long lashes brushing against Ruan Zhao’s palm. “So you can’t?”

Ruan Zhao was a little surprised by his stubbornness, but he didn’t hesitate for a second before crushing the fantasy. “Of course not.”

Chu Xinglan looked genuinely disappointed, his lips drooping as he let out a soft, hurt “Oh…”

“But I really want to see it.” He pulled Ruan Zhao’s hand down, lifting his gaze, locking his eyes on him. “Zhaozhao, you said just now—as long as I wanted to see it, you’d wear it for me anytime… Was that all a lie?”

Ruan Zhao: “…”

Chu Xinglan’s gaze was simply too intense. Those dark, lacquer-like eyes shimmered with a hint of disappointment. His long lashes lowered slowly, hiding the emotions that rippled quietly beneath.

He looked genuinely upset—even that soft golden shimmer in his pupils seemed to dim. If he’d had a tail, it would’ve drooped pitifully by now.

Ruan Zhao knew perfectly well this was all an act. He was putting on a show, trying to tug at his heartstrings, making him feel guilty, hoping to soften him up so he’d give in.

But was Ruan Zhao really that easy to manipulate? Of course not. He saw right through Chu Xinglan’s little game and naturally wasn’t about to step into the trap.

So in a firm, no-nonsense tone, he said, “I can wear something else. But not the wedding robe.”

“Please, Zhaozhao…” Chu Xinglan’s voice dropped, soft and coaxing. “It’ll just be me. No one else will ever know.”

He continued, his tone growing more persuasive, “Zhaozhao, you’re beautiful—everywhere. You in that wedding robe… it’d be the most breathtaking thing in the world. No one could come close.”

Ruan Zhao gave him a sideways glance, completely unmoved. His expression said it all: You really think such cheap flattery is gonna work on me?

“We’re not getting married today. I’m not wearing it.”

……

Ruan Zhao held out for as long as he could. But in the end, he caved under Chu Xinglan’s relentless coaxing.

After quite a bit of bargaining, he finally shoved Chu Xinglan out the door, agreeing to wear it for the time it took one incense stick to burn. And when the time was up—he’d take it off immediately.

The bridal robe was heavy and elaborate. Gold thread embroidered vivid phoenix patterns across the fabric, and the hem trailed two or three meters long. It took Ruan Zhao quite a while to finally get it on.

He reached up and adjusted the wobbly golden crown on his head. The dangling beads and tassels swayed constantly—and it was ridiculously heavy. He barely wore it for a short while before his head and neck started aching. Ruan Zhao scowled in irritation, yanked it off, and tossed it aside.

Then, grabbing a red hair tie, he casually tied up his long hair that fell to his waist. He sat down in front of the mirror, studying himself carefully.

In the reflection, a “girl” in a bright, brilliant wedding robe stared back. The bold, vivid crimson made his skin look like cool, delicate porcelain, and those pale eyes seemed to shimmer with a watery glow—alluring and far too pretty.

Ruan Zhao murmured to himself, “Doesn’t look that different, really.” Not much different from when he’d dressed as a girl before.

The only real change was the overly bright color of the robe. He ran his slender fingers across the phoenix embroidered in gold, feeling the raised texture beneath his touch.

I’ve never worn anything this fancy before, he thought.

“Feels like something’s missing…” Ruan Zhao dug through his storage ring, pulling out a lip stain and started applying it with practiced ease. His lips, already naturally pink, deepened into a rich, vivid red.

But just then—the closed door creaked open. Ruan Zhao’s hand paused mid-stroke, the color smudging slightly as he missed his mark.

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