Axolotl Translations

This method… was surprisingly effective. Ruan Zhao remembered it vividly. He remembered just how miserable he’d been that night—how hard he cried, how utterly defeated he felt. Even though he’d slapped Chu Xinglan hard afterward to get back at him, the fear stuck with him.

After that, he never stayed out overnight again. Whenever he went out, he made sure to tell Chu Xinglan ahead of time, promising exactly when he’d be back—and he never broke that promise.

Though… he still snuck drinks, turning himself into a clingy little drunk. His lips and teeth would taste faintly of sweet fruit wine, his eyes would go red, his mouth flush pink, and then he’d cling to Chu Xinglan’s collar, shamelessly demanding kisses.

But no matter how cute he was, Chu Xinglan still couldn’t stand Ye Qingwei. Or rather—anyone who could catch Ruan Zhao’s attention, anyone who might take up even the tiniest space in his heart—they all rubbed him the wrong way.

Even after forming a soul-binding contract and officially becoming Dao partners, Chu Xinglan didn’t feel much safer. If anything, his possessiveness only grew.

Dark, unsettling thoughts crept into his mind—fantasies of tying Ruan Zhao to his side, of making sure he could never look at anyone else. These thoughts always surged when Ruan Zhao would run off with Ye Qingwei and leave him home alone.

Paranoid. Twisted. He’d run through all kinds of disturbing plans in his head—but the moment he saw Ruan Zhao, all of it would vanish. He could never bring himself to act. He could only imagine it.

Life with just the two of them was enough. Chu Xinglan didn’t want anyone else between them. Even if it was someone insignificant—a mere speck in Ruan Zhao’s heart—it still drove him crazy.

If not for the fact that Ye Qingwei was his master’s daughter, he would’ve long since put up a sign on Ruyun Peak, with her name written loud and clear: Ye Qingwei is not allowed in.

So, dumping all those awful peaches on her didn’t make him feel even a little guilty.

Little did Ye Qingwei know, she was about to walk into one hell of a mess.

That afternoon, Ye Qingwei quietly snuck up to Ruyun Peak again. She wanted to drag Ruan Zhao out for a bit of fun. She knocked twice, quick and unevenly—only to have the door open to Chu Xinglan. And the next thing she knew, a heavy basket was being shoved into her arms. If she hadn’t reacted fast, it might’ve smashed into her face.

Still rattled, she blurted, “…What’s this?”

Chu Xinglan replied flatly, “The peaches you asked for.”

“This many?!” She stared in disbelief. A windfall like this had actually landed in her lap? She eyed Chu Xinglan warily, trying to figure out what he was really up to. “Are… these all for me?”

Chu Xinglan pretended to pull the basket back. “If you don’t want them, fine.”

Ye Qingwei panicked and clung to the basket. “I want them! Of course I want them—how could I not?”

She knew perfectly well how much spiritual energy those peach trees were steeped in—she’d seen it with her own eyes, how Chu Xinglan and Ruan Zhao poured their cultivation into the roots like it cost them nothing.

Even a single peach was more valuable than most rare herbs, packed with spiritual energy that would make training twice as effective with half the effort. Getting a whole basket like this—she was getting away with daylight robbery.

Chu Xinglan gave her a pointed reminder. “These were set aside for you by Zhaozhao.” He added, “So whether they taste good or not, you have to finish every last one.”

“Ruan Zhao saved these for me?” Ye Qingwei only caught the first half of what he said—utterly touched, her eyes misted over. “He actually remembered something I mentioned in passing… what a good friend!”

Chu Xinglan: “Actually, no. He just happened to think of you.”

Ye Qingwei’s eyes sparkled. “It’s fine, senior brother. I get it.”

Chu Xinglan: “…” No, you don’t get it at all. Their minds were clearly on different planets.

After a while of this completely mismatched conversation, Ye Qingwei finally remembered why she’d come. She craned her neck, peeking inside, but before she could see anything, Chu Xinglan blocked her. “Where’s Ruan Zhao? Isn’t he here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s inside.”

“Then why isn’t he coming out?”

“He’s asleep,” Chu Xinglan said simply. “Don’t wake him.”

Ye Qingwei let out a quiet, disappointed “oh.”

She turned to leave, taking three reluctant steps, looking back at every one. She’d just heard that a new restaurant had opened down in town, offering a 20% discount for its first three days. She’d been hoping to drag Ruan Zhao along, splurge on good food while the offer lasted.

Now, that plan was dead in the water. Guess it was back to sword training.

Still—with those spiritual peaches, maybe her cultivation would push up another level. If she worked a little harder, she might even manage a halfway decent ranking at the upcoming sect tournament.

If it doesn’t kill you, train harder.

……

Watching Ye Qingwei’s figure disappear down the path, Chu Xinglan lowered his lashes in thought. Then, he turned and quietly made his way back inside, stepping softly as he approached the bed.

He hadn’t lied—Ruan Zhao really was asleep. And sleeping so peacefully. His face was soft, a pale blush tinting his cheeks, long lashes casting little fan-shaped shadows on his skin. His breathing was steady, his chest gently rising and falling. “Zhaozhao…”

Chu Xinglan carefully tucked the blanket around him, brushing a hand against his cheek. “I’m stepping out for a little while. I’ll be right back.”

Half-asleep, Ruan Zhao felt someone disturbing his rest, grumbled, hugged the quilt tighter, and rolled over, lazily waving a hand as if to shoo them away. Chu Xinglan didn’t press him. He quietly left the house and made his way down to town.

After searching for a long while, he still couldn’t find anyone selling peach trees.

In the end, he wandered into a nearby village—and there it was. Unlike the peach tree he and Ruan Zhao had raised together, carefully nurtured with spiritual energy yet bearing barely a few fruits, this tree was so heavy with peaches it was bending the branches. The fruit was plump, sweet, and fragrant—bite into it and it would flood your mouth with syrupy juice.

He picked off the extra peaches and handed them out to passing villagers, keeping just a dozen or so. Then, quietly, he brought the whole tree back up to the north side of their orchard and planted it there, pretending it had always been part of the grove.

Once everything was done, he cleaned himself up, wiped away any trace of his trip, and returned home, acting as though nothing had happened. Just as Ruan Zhao was waking up.

Half-asleep, Ruan Zhao vaguely heard the sound of the door opening. A little dazed, he called out a name. “Chu Xinglan…”

“I’m here,” came the quiet reply.

Ruan Zhao sat up, blinking blearily toward the window. “Is it night already?”

“Not yet. It’s still light out.”

“Oh.” Ruan Zhao lay back down, pulling the covers over himself again. “Guess I’ll sleep a little more, then.”

Chu Xinglan asked, “Want to eat something first?”

“I’m not hungry,” Ruan Zhao murmured. “I’ll eat when I wake up.”

He lay there in silence for a bit, but something still felt… off. After a moment, he tossed aside the blanket, patted the empty space beside him, and gave Chu Xinglan a meaningful little wink. “Come sleep with me.” Then, slipping naturally into a playful, coaxing tone: “I can’t sleep by myself.”

Without a word, Chu Xinglan shed his outer robe and lay down next to him. Ruan Zhao immediately curled up like a kitten against his chest, wrapping his arms around Chu Xinglan’s slender waist, rubbing his face into his chest like a spoiled child, messing up the folds of his inner robe.

Only after holding onto him like this did Ruan Zhao seem to finally settle, that vague unease replaced by warmth and security. Sleep came easily after that.

They both slept straight through until nightfall. When Ruan Zhao finally stirred, he was sprawled over Chu Xinglan like an octopus, clinging tightly, arms and legs tangled around him, his head resting on Chu Xinglan’s arm.

Stretching lazily, Ruan Zhao sat up, feeling rested and refreshed—the best sleep he’d had in ages.

Chu Xinglan was still sleeping. Not wanting to disturb him, Ruan Zhao carefully started to climb off the bed. But the moment one leg slipped free, a hand seized the soft flesh at his waist. His body went weak, and he fell, landing right on top of Chu Xinglan.

Ruan Zhao looked down at him. In the clear moonlight, those dark, gold-flecked eyes stared back at him—wide awake, not a hint of sleepiness in sight.

“You little sneak,” Ruan Zhao grinned. “You’ve been awake this whole time, huh? And you still had the nerve to pretend to be asleep and fool me.”

He reached down, grabbing a handful of Chu Xinglan’s hair and giving it a mock-pull, his tone full of playful threat. “Apologize—now! And say ‘I was wrong’ three times, loud and clear! Or else… I’m gonna deal with you myself!”

Chu Xinglan didn’t answer.

Like a little rascal, Ruan Zhao reached out and tugged at his inner robe, running his hands boldly over the young man’s beautifully defined abs.

Chu Xinglan’s breath hitched. Seizing the moment, he grabbed Ruan Zhao’s waist and pushed him down beneath him, pinning his wrists and leaning close to his ear, his voice rough with breath. “Why’d you stop?” He murmured, “Touching me like that… so light… it feels like you’re trying to seduce me.”

Ruan Zhao: “……” Alright, you win—I can’t out-flirt you.

……

Over half an hour later, Ruan Zhao finally climbed out of bed. He tidied his tousled hair and changed into a fresh set of clothes.

After they finished dinner, Chu Xinglan tugged on Ruan Zhao’s hand, insisting on taking him to see the peach trees again.

Ruan Zhao resisted. “What for? Those trees have already broken my heart. I don’t even want to look at them these days.”

Chu Xinglan hesitated. “They might look a little different at night.”

“What difference could it make?” Ruan Zhao grumbled. “They’re still going to taste terrible. No matter how much spiritual energy I pour into them, it’s useless—they’re still not getting any sweeter.”

Despite the complaining, he obediently followed Chu Xinglan up to the peach grove.

The mountain top at night was cool and pleasant, with a light breeze blowing now and then. The crisp sound of insects chirping filled the air.

Ruan Zhao’s eyes were immediately drawn to a peach tree tucked away in the corner. Scattered among the branches were a few bright, red peaches. He frowned a little… Had there been a peach tree here before? Why couldn’t he remember it? Or… was his memory playing tricks on him?

While he was still doubting himself, a plump, perfectly round peach was shoved into his hand. Even from a distance, the sweet fragrance was unmistakable. It was nothing like the peaches he’d picked earlier that day.

Chu Xinglan looked a little nervous. “…Try it.”

Ruan Zhao seemed to sense something. He lifted his gaze, looking at Chu Xinglan for a moment, then cautiously took a bite.

Crisp, sweet, and juicy. The flavor filled his mouth, making him immediately want a second bite.

Chu Xinglan asked nervously, “Is it good?”

Ruan Zhao’s eyes curved into crescent moons as he smiled. “It’s sweet.”

Chu Xinglan visibly let out a breath of relief. “As long as it’s sweet.”

“You see? Our efforts weren’t wasted. These peach trees did grow good fruit. The one you just ate was sweet, wasn’t it? So it was just bad luck earlier—we didn’t pick the right ones during the day…”

“Zhaozhao should cheer up too,” Chu Xinglan said as he gently ruffled Ruan Zhao’s hair, then pinched his cheeks and lifted them, forcing a smiling face. “Don’t be upset.”

Ruan Zhao sighed. “Alright.” Then, deliberately drawing out his words, “Since you’re going to all this trouble… I guess I won’t be sad anymore.”

Before long, Ruan Zhao had finished off the entire peach. His hands were sticky with peach juice. Chu Xinglan took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped them clean. The longer they spent together, the more these small, caring tasks seemed natural for Chu Xinglan to do himself—rarely relying on magic.

“This finger’s still sticky. Wipe it again,” Ruan Zhao instructed. Chu Xinglan patiently wiped it two more times.

“How about now?”

“All good.”

Then, Ruan Zhao dug a small hole and buried the leftover peach pit in the ground. Noticing the fresh traces of disturbed soil nearby, Ruan Zhao’s hands paused—but he pretended not to see it, quietly covering the pit again.

The peach he’d eaten during the day had been soft. But this one tonight was firm and crisp. Chu Xinglan hadn’t even realized the peaches were a different type—such an obvious flaw in his plan, and yet he came running over trying to cheer him up.

Forget it. Considering he’d gone through all the trouble of running down the mountain, buying a tree, and secretly planting it here… He’d pretend he hadn’t noticed a thing.

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