Axolotl Translations

A vivid red smear appeared at the corner of his lips. It was like a flawless work of art had suddenly acquired a tiny, glaring flaw. Insignificant, perhaps—but jarring all the same.

Ruan Zhao had taken such care applying the lip color, carefully, meticulously staying inside the curve of his lips. It was probably the neatest, cleanest job he’d ever done.

But right at the most crucial moment, Chu Xinglan had barged in without warning, rattling his focus. His hand had trembled, and the color had smudged, leaving a glaring mark that made his face look a mess.

Ruan Zhao stared at his reflection, frowning at that bright streak at the corner of his mouth. He was annoyed. Turning toward the intruder, he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you to wait outside? I was going to call you when I was done. What are you doing barging in now? I’m not finished!”

He pointed a finger at the corner of his mouth, silently telling Chu Xinglan to look. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t snuck in like that, none of this would’ve happened…” he muttered under his breath, “Now what? I’ll have to wipe it all off and start over.”

Grabbing a handkerchief, he moved to wipe the lip color away—but before he could, Chu Xinglan, now somehow right beside him, caught his wrist. He easily plucked the handkerchief from Ruan Zhao’s hand and tossed it aside.

Ruan Zhao stared at him, confused. Chu Xinglan lowered his gaze, staring at the smeared red at the corner of Ruan Zhao’s mouth. His eyes darkened, his voice dropping low. “Don’t fix it. You look beautiful like this.”

His slender, calloused fingertips brushed over the bright stain. As he pressed down, the lip color smeared a little more, softening the color, leaving part of it clinging to his own fingertips—staining them a pale, ambiguous pink.

“You’re so beautiful, Zhaozhao,” Chu Xinglan murmured, as if bewitched, leaning in closer. His gaze grew hazy, burning, as though licking across Ruan Zhao’s face like fire. “Even more beautiful in that wedding dress than I imagined.”

Ruan Zhao felt his face heat up. Just those few overly direct words were enough to make him flush without meaning to. Even his palms felt warm. He coughed lightly, awkwardly avoiding Chu Xinglan’s intense stare.

His voice wavered a little as he tried to cover it up. “W-what’s so strange about it? I mean… it’s only natural I’d look good. I was born this good-looking. A little makeup just makes it stand out more, that’s all.”

Especially in this extravagant wedding dress—it was so ornate, so dazzling, it almost didn’t seem real. Anyone wearing it would be made even more beautiful.

Ruan Zhao smoothed out the pleats of the skirt and was about to stand up and spin around to show Chu Xinglan properly when he felt warm fingers brush against his lips. Without him noticing, Chu Xinglan’s hand had moved there, lightly stroking, smudging what was left of the half-dried lip color into a complete mess.

Ruan Zhao had the sudden urge to bite him—but hesitated, afraid that if he opened his mouth, Chu Xinglan’s fingers would slip inside. Logically, that shouldn’t happen. But for some reason… the thought worried him.

Maybe it was because Chu Xinglan felt different today. More intense. More dangerous. The way he leaned down, practically enclosing Ruan Zhao in his arms, the downward press of his gaze—it was suffocating.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, as though he were about to swallow him whole. They were much too close. Chu Xinglan’s warm breath landed on his face. Ruan Zhao instantly picked up on the shift in atmosphere.

Whether it was the tight waist of the dress squeezing his ribs or something else, he found it hard to breathe. “Chu Xinglan…”

“…Mm?” The boy’s voice was hoarse, snapping out of his daze when he heard his name. “What is it?”

Ruan Zhao arched a brow, taking the initiative. “You’re thinking about kissing me, aren’t you?”

Chu Xinglan didn’t even flinch at being called out. He calmly countered, “And what if I am?”

“Of course you can’t!” Ruan Zhao shot back, righteous and indignant. “Wearing this for you was already way too indulgent—and you still dare think of… of something like that? You really don’t know when to stop. Always pushing your luck.”

But Chu Xinglan’s gaze slowly drifted down, locking onto his lips. There was a clear, hungry heat in his eyes—a yearning he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Ruan Zhao panicked a little, snapping out orders like always. “You can’t kiss me! You’re not even allowed to think about it!”

Unfortunately, his protests had no effect. This time, Chu Xinglan didn’t listen like he usually did. Instead, he tilted Ruan Zhao’s chin up and, without a hint of hesitation—kissed him.

And the moment Ruan Zhao opened his mouth to say something, Chu Xinglan seized the chance and slipped his tongue inside.

“Mmph—”

The sudden, unguarded kiss completely threw Ruan Zhao off. He couldn’t dodge, couldn’t push away—he could only open his mouth and let the other boy claim him completely.

Chu Xinglan kissed him hard, kissed him deep—like a starving dog who hadn’t tasted meat in centuries, clinging to his tongue, sucking desperately. His tongue licked and teased the softest, most sensitive parts deep inside, greedily swallowing every drop of saliva, making a complete mess of him.

The carefully applied lip rouge was ruined—most of it was probably already in Chu Xinglan’s mouth by now.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the boy leaned in close, murmuring secretively against Ruan Zhao’s ear in a barely audible voice. “…So sweet.”

Then, a beat later, “Thanks for the treat.”

Ruan Zhao’s knees buckled in an instant. What was once resistance had unconsciously turned into acceptance—his head tipped back, arms wrapped loosely around Chu Xinglan’s neck, letting him kiss as deeply as he wanted.

Though Ruan Zhao wasn’t struggling anymore, he would still yank at Chu Xinglan’s hair when the boy’s force got out of hand, frowning and tugging him back a little, urging him to slow down, not to be so rough.

“It’s not like this’ll be the last time… you’ll get to kiss me again, so just… lighten up a little, will you—” The rest of his words were swallowed by yet another eager kiss.

Ruan Zhao gathered his strength and, in warning, bit down on the other boy’s reckless tongue, signaling him to behave, to not go too far.

Chu Xinglan froze for a brief moment—then finally backed off a little.

Finally, Ruan Zhao thought, his conscience had kicked in, that this endless kiss was coming to an end.

But before he could even catch a proper breath, those cool lips pressed down on his again, stealing away everything—his breath, his balance, his thoughts.

…Unbelievable. He just won’t stop.

The dizzying lack of air made Ruan Zhao’s head feel light and fuzzy, like he’d downed an entire jar of wine. His vision blurred, heat blooming on his lips like it might burn him, until it felt like they’d melt into one, impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

When he finally came back to himself—it was because he heard the sharp, unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

The sharp rip of fabric cut through the air like a thunderclap, jolting Ruan Zhao out of his dazed state. It was Chu Xinglan—he had torn open the wedding robe.

The heavy, luxurious fabric seemed as fragile as the thinnest paper in Chu Xinglan’s hands, tearing apart effortlessly into a long, ragged opening.

Pale skin peeked through the split fabric, hazy and half-revealed—a sight even more enticing than if it had been fully exposed.

Ruan Zhao froze. For a moment, his reaction lagged behind—then, flustered, he lifted his hands to cover the torn area, blinking up at Chu Xinglan, completely lost.

The boy was still holding the scrap of torn fabric in his hand, head bowed low so Ruan Zhao couldn’t see his expression. Then came another loud tear. Another sleeve was ripped apart, slipping down to reveal Ruan Zhao’s smooth shoulder.

Even with how slow he’d been to react, by now, there was no mistaking what Chu Xinglan intended.

Ruan Zhao’s face instantly flushed bright red, the heat rising off his entire body as though it might start to steam. He panicked, blurting out words meant to stop him. “…No!” He repeated it several times, firm and desperate, trying to make his rejection clear. “It’s still daytime…”

He instinctively glanced toward the window—only to find the sun had already sunk beneath the horizon, leaving nothing but a strip of glowing crimson at the edge of the sky.

Flustered, he quickly corrected himself. “The sky’s not even dark yet—and you’re already thinking about this kind of thing, you… you’re just…” The rest of the sentence stuck awkwardly in his throat. His ears were burning, his heart thudding hard against his chest. Gritting his teeth, he forced the words out. “You’re completely shameless.”

“It’s already dark.” Chu Xinglan covered Ruan Zhao’s eyes with his hand, his voice low and hoarse. “So dark you can’t see anything anymore.”

Ruan Zhao stared in shock at his blatant nonsense, but still, out of habit, followed his lead, blurting out, “…So what?”

Chu Xinglan’s voice didn’t rush but carried a steady certainty. “So it means nothing we do would be out of line.”

Ruan Zhao: “……”

Eighteen-year-olds burned hot, and even the tiniest spark could set off a wildfire.

The boy’s lips trailed from his smooth, rounded shoulder up along the delicate line of his neck, leaving a string of light, lingering kisses. That feverish breath enveloped Ruan Zhao completely, making his back tingle and his fingertips tremble uncontrollably.

They didn’t go all the way. Because Ruan Zhao cried. And he cried hard.

His hair was damp and clinging to his flushed cheeks, trembling lashes heavy with tears. A string of them fell, one after another, like broken pearls, helpless and pitiful beyond words.

What made it worse was that the intensity of their closeness had caused his cultivation to soar—spiritual energy rushing in from every direction, flooding his body relentlessly…

Chu Xinglan had torn open most of his wedding robe, the cool breeze slipping through the gaps in the fabric, only to be chased away by the boy’s burning warmth.

It was too much.

That kind of double-edged assault—body and spirit—left Ruan Zhao completely overwhelmed. In no time, he was sobbing uncontrollably, his throat catching on broken little cries.

Chu Xinglan stopped. He reached out and gently wiped away Ruan Zhao’s tears. Seeing the person he liked showing such fragile vulnerability beneath him—that fair skin now covered in scattered, uneven marks from his own kisses, like smudges on a blank sheet of white paper, claiming him completely… it made something dark and possessive in Chu Xinglan stir.

It was so clear now—this person was his. No one else could have him.

The surge of possessiveness made his breathing ragged, something wild and barely-caged rising up in his chest. For an instant, he wanted to keep going, regardless of anything—but in the end, he made himself stop.

With a trace of helplessness and guilt, he reached out and gently stroked Ruan Zhao’s head, coaxing him softly. “Alright, it’s okay… don’t cry. Breathe.” Then, softer still, “I won’t bully you anymore.”

Ruan Zhao wiped his tears with the back of his hand, sniffling miserably. “Liar… you already bullied me, did everything you wanted… now you come here pretending to be a good person… you’re a liar, always pretending to be so proper… I’ll never believe you again.”

His ruined clothes barely covered anything now. Even his slender legs were dotted with faint, lingering red marks. Ruan Zhao stared at those damp little traces, lips trembling as he quietly accused him.

Chu Xinglan’s face stiffened for a beat. It was obvious that those words had once again stirred up something he shouldn’t have. He gathered the trembling Ruan Zhao into his arms, carefully using the torn scraps of fabric to wipe away the last of the marks—as if trying to erase every trace of what had happened.

Once he’d thoroughly “cleaned up the scene,” his face had turned deeply red too, his fingers trembling against his will, lashes fluttering like rain-soaked butterfly wings. “Okay… it’s all clean now. Nothing left.”

Ruan Zhao: “…………”

Ruan Zhao reached out, blindly groping downwards—and accidentally grabbed something. He froze, quickly darting a glance up at Chu Xinglan, his expression unable to take it anymore, and spat out one word through gritted teeth. “Disgusting.”

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