Axolotl Translations

That wedding robe was completely ruined. Not only had Chu Xinglan shredded it into pieces, but it was also covered in all sorts of… suspicious stains.

So the very first thing Ruan Zhao did after regaining his strength was to utterly destroy it. This was the first time since advancing to the Golden Core stage that Ruan Zhao used such a powerful, destructive spell. By the time he was done, there wasn’t even a scrap left—just a wisp of pale smoke lingering in the air, marking where it once existed.

Chu Xinglan couldn’t help feeling a little regretful. It was, after all, the first time Ruan Zhao had ever worn a wedding robe. And no matter what you’re doing, the first time always carries special meaning—especially something this important…

He still remembered opening that door, seeing Ruan Zhao dressed in brilliant red, brushing his hair in front of the mirror—his heart had started racing uncontrollably, his throat dry, his whole body heating up.

He’d originally planned to save that robe, maybe take it out now and then to look at, relive the moment. And if possible… have him wear it again sometime. Next time, he’d try his best to restrain himself. Really, try not to rip it apart again.

But Ruan Zhao’s decision left no room for negotiation. Chu Xinglan knew he’d already gone too far, and he didn’t want to provoke him again, so he didn’t say a word—just quietly let Ruan Zhao burn it to nothing.

Maybe his disappointment was a little too obvious. Ruan Zhao noticed something, turning his gaze toward him, his pretty face expressionless, eyes half-narrowed as he coolly sized him up—looking like if Chu Xinglan so much as made a wrong move or said something upsetting, the next spell would land squarely on him.

Chu Xinglan immediately straightened his back, terrified that Ruan Zhao’s anger hadn’t fully passed and might spill over onto him. He quickly forced down the regret in his heart and praised him against his own wishes. “Good job destroying it. Really—you did great.” Watching Ruan Zhao’s expression, he cautiously added, “As long as you’re not mad at me anymore, you can do whatever you want.”

Ruan Zhao let out a cold snort. Outwardly, he looked calm and indifferent—but inside, his legs were weak, his waist sore, and he was struggling to keep up the appearance of composure. And between his legs… that sticky, lingering sensation still wouldn’t go away. No matter how many cleansing spells he used, it still felt uncomfortable.

Ruan Zhao furrowed his brows slightly. He decided that for the next few hours, he wasn’t going to spare Chu Xinglan a single glance—let him reflect properly, see if he’d dare go this far again next time.

He shot Chu Xinglan a cold, indifferent look, then turned and walked away without hesitation. But he’d barely taken a few steps before his legs gave out a little from the soreness, stumbling awkwardly. It was only because Chu Xinglan caught his arm in time that he didn’t fall flat on the ground.

“How are you feeling? Still able to walk?” Chu Xinglan asked. “Let me carry you back.”

“…No need.” Ruan Zhao’s face stiffened as he shoved his hand away. “Stay away from me. I don’t want to see you right now.”

Chu Xinglan frowned. “But you can’t even walk straight—”

He wasn’t wrong, but Ruan Zhao was stubborn. “That’s none of your business!”

Without arguing, Chu Xinglan simply slipped an arm around his waist and, without giving him a chance to resist, scooped him up in a bridal carry. Startled, Ruan Zhao instinctively grabbed onto his neck to steady himself.

“What are you doing? I told you not to bother with me—are you ignoring what I say now? Put me down!”

Chu Xinglan stopped walking, his palm wrapping around Ruan Zhao’s restless, fidgeting leg, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he slowly tightened his grip, his voice calm and low. “Move again, and I’ll kiss you.”

Ruan Zhao: “……”

A blatant threat. And given that they’d already done almost everything imaginable, Ruan Zhao knew all too well that it wouldn’t just stop at a kiss.

A wise man knows when to yield. Ruan Zhao tensed up and obediently stopped struggling.

“You promised not to bully me anymore… turns out it was just empty talk. You had no intention of keeping that promise, liar.”

Chu Xinglan sighed helplessly. “This counts as bullying too?”

“What else?” Ruan Zhao shot back. “Being pinned down and… made to cry—what would you call that?”

Chu Xinglan: “Alright, I’m sorry.”

“So you’re apologizing, but you’ve got no intention of changing, huh?”

Chu Xinglan was completely at a loss for words.

Like he’d grabbed hold of some hidden leverage, Ruan Zhao kept going. “What? Cat got your tongue? Am I right? Feeling guilty now?”

“You’ve been dying to do this, haven’t you? Always putting on that upright, proper face—blushing the moment I get close, acting all pure and reserved, like no one could possibly be more proper than you. But underneath it all, you’re disgusting. Filthy. Always thinking about those things.”

……

“You know what Ye Qingwei and the others say about you? That you’re this emotionless block of ice, cold enough to scare people off, completely lacking anything resembling human feeling. A total frigid type. Honestly, I wonder—are they blind, or are their eyes just there for decoration?”

If Chu Xinglan was frigid, then this world must have long since abolished desire and human nature.

“You must feel real proud, huh? Fooling everyone with that perfect, gentlemanly image.”

……

“Seriously, someone ought to let those adoring disciples at Guiyuan Sect see the real you—see what kind of two-faced person their ‘model senior brother’ actually is. Looks like a pure, untouchable little immortal on the outside, but inside, you’re filled with unspeakably dirty thoughts. Let them be disillusioned. See you for who you really are.”

……

“You done?”

Ruan Zhao pouted. “Done.”

“Feel any better now?”

“No.”

Chu Xinglan reached out, poking Ruan Zhao’s cheek, and forced him into a crooked smile. His voice was soft, teasing. “Why not?”

“Because I’m the only one talking. You just stood there like a rock. It’s like I’m performing a one-man show. What’s fun about that?”

Chu Xinglan couldn’t help laughing. “Zhaozhao… you’re too adorable.”

Ruan Zhao’s barely cooled anger immediately flared up again. He glared furiously at Chu Xinglan.

“Cute? I’m being serious here, and that’s all you’re thinking about?”

It felt exactly like one of those moments where you pour your heart out in a long, emotional rant, and the other person just stares at your face—maybe nodding, maybe making a noise now and then like they’re really listening—when in reality, they haven’t heard a word you said. Their entire focus is fixed on you, not your words.

And then, to top it all off, they lean in close and say, “You look so cute when you’re angry.” And when you glare at them, completely flustered and furious, they still don’t get it and double down, “Everything about you is cute.”

Ruan Zhao: “…” He gave up.

After a moment, he leaned close to Chu Xinglan’s ear, clamped down, and bit hard.

He didn’t hold back—nearly seventy, eighty percent of his strength—leaving that fair ear bright red, marked with deep, clear teeth marks.

Chu Xinglan winced quietly, enduring the sting. Ruan Zhao licked his lips, satisfied, and lazily asked, “Still think I’m cute now?”

“Still cute.”

Ruan Zhao choked, “…” Fine. You win. Even now, you’re still saying that.

……

Time slipped by quickly, and before long, it was already the sixteenth of the following month—the day of their bond ceremony.

The ritual itself was simple. All they had to do was write their names on the contract and together vow to be bound by it. After that, under the witness of Heaven itself, they would officially become lifelong Dao partners—souls bound as one.

Ruan Zhao had only just turned seventeen, and he’d never imagined he’d be getting married so young. And not just any marriage, but the highest form of soul binding—a bond so absolute there was no turning back.

Between him and Chu Xinglan, something deeper had formed—a connection far beyond what words could describe. Even if they were miles apart, they could sense each other’s presence, as if some invisible thread still tied them together. It felt like they’d always be together now, like even death itself couldn’t tear them apart.

……

It was spring again. The peach trees they had planted the year before had soaked up a whole year of rich spiritual energy, growing tall and lush—no longer the small, skinny saplings they once were.

Now, soft pink blossoms covered the branches. Whenever the wind passed by, delicate petals would drift down, filling the air with a sweet, gentle fragrance.

Ruan Zhao had been waiting for this moment since the very first blossom appeared—counting the days, patiently watching them bloom and hoping for the fruit.

There were plenty of flowers, but not many fruits remained. The tree that bore the most had fewer than ten peaches clinging to its branches. And they were tiny—barely the size of a fingernail.

But with the care and attention of three daily infusions of spiritual energy from him and Chu Xinglan, those little green fruits finally grew into plump, pink peaches. Just looking at them was enough to make your mouth water. Ruan Zhao eagerly picked one, excited to share it with Chu Xinglan.

He took the first bite. His face twisted up immediately. His entire expression scrunched so tight, it looked like a dumpling. “So astringent—not sweet at all.” All that time and spiritual energy, wasted.

Chu Xinglan took a small bite from the same spot Ruan Zhao had bitten, and his face stiffened too—clearly caught off guard by the sourness. “Yeah… definitely not sweet.”

Ruan Zhao was unwilling to admit defeat. Maybe it was just bad luck—he’d picked the wrong one. He shoved the half-eaten peach at Chu Xinglan. “Here, you finish this. I’ll try another.”

This time, he carefully chose a big, plump, perfectly pink peach. Biting into it with high hopes—well, it wasn’t sour this time… but it wasn’t sweet either. Just a mouthful of bland, slightly cloying juice.

Unwilling to give up, Ruan Zhao plucked a third. After getting burned twice by the biggest, ripest-looking peaches, he intentionally picked a small one this time.

In that moment, time seemed to freeze. Ruan Zhao’s lashes trembled slightly, and he let out a tiny, choked sob, as if he just couldn’t take the blow. “It’s so awful.”

He spat out the bitter fruit pulp with a ptoo, and angrily flung the peach far away. “This one’s actually bitter!”

“I’m so mad right now! I get up before dawn every day to fetch water for you lot from the mountain, infuse you with spiritual energy three times a day without missing a single session—and this is how you repay me?”

If the peach trees’ trunks weren’t so thick that he couldn’t get his arms around them, Ruan Zhao would’ve shaken them by now, giving them a proper scolding. “After all that care, you still bear fruit this sour and disgusting? How could you do this to me?”

Chu Xinglan discreetly tossed his half-eaten sour peach somewhere out of sight, then reached over to gently rub Ruan Zhao’s back, comforting him. “Don’t be upset, Zhaozhao. If you want peaches, I’ll head down the mountain and buy you a whole basket. You can eat as many as you want.”

“It’s not the same.” Ruan Zhao shook his head, his face both aggrieved and disheartened. “It’s not about the peaches—it’s about how I feel.”

Ruan Zhao had really poured his heart into those peach trees. Ever since they blossomed, he’d been anxiously waiting for the fruit—dreaming of sweet, juicy peaches.

Every day, he’d check on them seven or eight times, afraid the delicate fruit might get blown away by the wind or snatched by some careless animal. And in the end—this.

“Look on the bright side,” Chu Xinglan tried, pausing a moment to search for something positive. “At least… at least the flowers were beautiful. And the peaches look nice, even if they don’t taste good.”

Ruan Zhao: “…” If you can’t comfort people, maybe just stop talking.

Chu Xinglan reached out and gently patted Ruan Zhao’s head, his voice soft and coaxing. “If these peach trees aren’t any good, we can always plant new ones. By next year, we’ll have fresh ones to try.”

“No way.” Ruan Zhao pouted. “I get mad just looking at peach trees now.”

“And now I don’t even know what to do with these peaches. Can’t bear to throw them away, but keeping them around just annoys me.”

Chu Xinglan offered a perfectly reasonable solution. “We could give them to Junior Sister Ye.” He elaborated, “Didn’t she ask for peaches when the trees first bloomed? We can send all of these to her—a little token of goodwill between sect-mates.”

Ruan Zhao hesitated. “Isn’t that… kind of mean?”

But Chu Xinglan spoke so matter-of-factly, it almost sounded righteous. “She’s been freeloading off us for ages—it’s about time she contributed something in return.” He hit the nail on the head. “It wouldn’t be fair if she’s always first in line for the good stuff, but nowhere to be seen when it’s her turn to take one for the team.”

“Besides,” he added, “Junior Sister Ye isn’t the type to get petty over something like this. She’ll understand.” Chu Xinglan didn’t seem the least bit bothered about Ye Qingwei mooching food and tea from them—it was just natural.

What really got under Chu Xinglan’s skin was how Ye Qingwei constantly followed Ruan Zhao around like a shadow. Wherever Ruan Zhao went, she was right behind him. And with that not-so-brilliant brain of hers, she always managed to come up with the worst ideas imaginable.

There was even one time she dragged Ruan Zhao down the mountain while Chu Xinglan wasn’t around—the two of them went out playing like lunatics until well past midnight before coming back.

That night, Chu Xinglan sat alone in the dark room, unmoving for hours. The dim candle on the table had burned all the way down, its flame flickering out as a soft pool of white wax gathered underneath. He was a mess inside—worried sick. All kinds of terrible thoughts flashed through his mind.

That was when Ruan Zhao finally came back—reeking of alcohol, breathing fast, eyes glassy and misted with tears, the corners flushed a soft red. Even the lift of his lashes and the reddened tilt at the outer corners of his eyes were unbearably striking. He was, in a word, stunning.

He pushed the door open cautiously, looking for all the world like a mischievous kitten who’d snuck out to play and was now terrified of getting caught. He peeked his head around the door, trying to sneak a look inside—only to come face to face with Chu Xinglan waiting for him. Busted.

And once he realized he’d been caught, he immediately dropped the act, throwing on a kind of “whatever, come at me” expression, full of defiance even though he had no ground to stand on.

When Chu Xinglan asked him whether he’d been drinking, he flat-out denied it—stubborn to the end. Asked where he got the alcohol, he blinked those pretty eyes, dodging the question with some vague excuse—clearly guilty as sin.

Chu Xinglan was mad. But he didn’t show it. And he didn’t raise his voice or scold Ruan Zhao. Instead, he pressed him down onto the bed—and let all those pent-up emotions out in a very different way.

No matter how much Ruan Zhao cried, begged, or pleaded with him, Chu Xinglan didn’t let up—didn’t say a word. He moved entirely at his own pace, taking full control of the night.

By the end of it, Chu Xinglan’s bare back was covered in long, angry scratch marks—some so deep that they’d broken skin and drawn blood. It was clear things had gotten intense.

With his level of cultivation, Ruan Zhao could never hurt him—not unless he let it happen. But in front of Ruan Zhao, he willingly lowered every guard, letting himself feel those sweet, stinging marks.

Another robe, ruined—torn to shreds. The tattered fabric lay tangled across Ruan Zhao’s body. When he shifted slightly, it slipped down to his waist, revealing pale, cool skin that glowed faintly in the low light. Chu Xinglan’s breath, which had just started to steady, lost its rhythm all over again.

And then—Slap.

A sharp smack landed clean across his face. His head turned from the impact. He rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, testing the spot. Didn’t really hurt. He had gone a bit overboard. So, taking a few slaps? Probably fair.

---

Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter