Axolotl Translations

The third floor was prime real estate—far from the clamor of engines and machinery, its elevation offering a sweeping panorama. It commanded the best vantage point on the entire ship. Beyond essential infrastructure, it primarily housed presidential suites, executive rooms, and luxurious cabins.

In essence, only a select few villagers ever found themselves assigned to the third floor. The choicest spots, naturally, were reserved for “their own.” This level served as the crew’s veritable stronghold.

With time pressing and the mission urgent, Zhou Jing didn’t immediately charge onto the third floor to initiate a rescue. Instead, he guided everyone along the ship’s open-air deck, heading directly for the secure-access stairwell and ascending towards the fourth floor.

Two teams had already ventured below, leaving the third floor with an unsettling stillness—too quiet for comfort.

The staircase was broad and gently sloped, far easier to navigate than a typical residential stairwell. Yet, the dim lighting and profound silence began to cast an odd sense of unease over the group.

Two to three dozen people moved as a hushed cluster up the stairs. Their footsteps were so soft that even the motion-sensor lights remained dormant. Only the sound of their breathing persisted—ragged, hurried, and growing heavier with each upward step, mingling with the faint breeze in the still air.

“Ahem!”

A cough broke the silence—a soft, clearly suppressed sound that had been held back for some time. Instantly, everyone froze and turned towards the source in perfect unison.

The culprit, Niang Niang, flushed crimson under the collective gaze. Mortified and flustered, she lowered her head so deeply it nearly touched her chest, appearing as though she wished to vanish into the floor.

Sensing the mounting tension, Zhou Jing, who was leading the way, glanced back and offered a small, reassuring smile. He lowered his voice and said, “Relax a little. No need to be so tense. Just move quietly and—”

“Creeeeak—”

A long, low groan echoed from above—the distinct sound of a door creaking open.

Instinctively, everyone held their breath, their ears straining to decipher the sound. Before they could identify its source, it was followed by a flurry of footsteps—rapid and unsteady.

Not just one or two people, either. Even though the steps were deliberately light, the overlapping rhythm of at least a dozen, perhaps twenty, approaching footfalls was unmistakable and rapidly closing the distance.

Zhou Jing’s initial impulse was to retreat—back down the stairs. But then the image of the third floor flashed in his mind. Absolutely not. He swiftly shifted his strategy, raised his watermelon knife, and silently signaled the group—prepare to fight.

The heavy hitter—the chainsaw—remained in Gu Mengran’s grip. Without hesitation, he seized the starter cord and took a step forward, positioning himself shoulder to shoulder with Zhou Jing. The moment anyone showed their face—they would be met with deadly force.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and still, not a single stairwell light flickered on.

A heavy cloak of darkness enveloped them. Less than thirty seconds ticked by before a tall figure emerged from the shadows around the stairwell corner.

Gu Mengran’s eyes snapped to the movement. Instinct took over—his hand shot out to yank the chainsaw’s starter cord. But in the next instant, his hand froze mid-motion. His gaze lifted swiftly, almost urgently, to get a clearer look at the approaching figure.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the outline sharpened—and then, recognition sparked in Gu Mengran’s pupils. That fleeting moment of shock was all it took.

A sudden rush of air whooshed past him.

Zhou Jing, his grip firm on his watermelon knife, darted forward in a blur.

Too fast—!

Gu Mengran startled, shouting a warning, “Wait—don’t! It’s one of ours!”

Just then, the stairwell lights snapped on, bathing the space in harsh white light.

The gleaming blade of the watermelon knife halted in midair.

Zhou Jing stopped abruptly, finally getting a clear view of the person. The villagers behind him, who had been bracing for a fight, all froze as well—stunned, confused… their expressions then rapidly shifting to delight.

“Xiao Zhou? Xiao Dong?”

“Fang—Sister Fang?!”

“Uncle Zhou! Auntie Li!”

“MOM!”

What had been mere moments from erupting into a fight transformed instantly into a joyous family reunion.

The thick tension that had hung heavy in the air just seconds before dissolved in an instant, replaced by an outpouring of joy and relief.

More villagers streamed up the stairs, gathering in the stairwell. But Gu Mengran remained rooted in place, his gaze fixed on the tall figure that stood out clearly amidst the crowd. A tightness constricted his chest, and an unexpected prickling sensation welled in his eyes.

In the blink of an eye, Liang Zhao had navigated through the throng and reached Gu Mengran’s side.

He carried the metallic scent of blood. A bruise marked the corner of his mouth, and several scrapes marred his arms. Clad in black, it was difficult to discern the exact source of the bleeding. The instant he stopped in front of him, Gu Mengran reached out without hesitation and lifted the hem of his shirt.

“What happened? You guys fought someone too? Are you hurt anywhere else? Why do you smell so strongly of blood?” Gu Mengran’s hands moved frantically, inspecting his waist and abdomen in a rushed search.

He nearly stripped him bare in front of everyone. Liang Zhao quickly caught his hands, gently holding them still as he reassured him in a low voice, “I’m fine. Just some minor injuries.”

“But—”

“What happened here?” Liang Zhao cut him off, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the bruises on Gu Mengran’s arm. His expression darkened.

“It’s nothing. Just a small injury. Pretty sure the ones who did it have already met their end.”

Seeing Liang Zhao’s expression growing darker by the second, Gu Mengran quickly steered the conversation in another direction. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s going on upstairs? What happened to you all?”

They were still deep within enemy territory—this was no time for a leisurely reunion.

Liang Zhao took a steadying breath, tightened his grip on Gu Mengran’s hand, and provided a swift rundown of the situation.

Just as on the second floor, the villagers on the upper levels had united to aid one another, managing to escape bit by bit. Along their way, they had encountered a patrolling squad in the ship’s corridor, leading to a direct confrontation.

Later, they had also crossed paths with the group that had departed the village earlier—Zhou Zhiqi’s people. It was then that they learned of their plan and the control room’s location on the fourth floor.

Sister Fang, rather than charging straight ahead, had decided to exercise caution. She led everyone downstairs to assist those on the lower levels first.

The ultimate goal remained the control room on the fourth floor. However, security there was stringent—doors locked, passageways sealed. No one knew precisely what was happening inside or the number of individuals present. This was why they had chosen to regroup with the others first—to avoid being outnumbered and to ensure the villagers below weren’t caught in a worse predicament.

It all sounded logical initially. But the more Gu Mengran listened, the more a sense of unease settled within him. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of doubt crossing his gaze as he looked at Liang Zhao.

“Wait a minute. Weren’t you assigned to the fourth floor from the beginning? If it was locked down that tight, how did you get out?”

“Ahem.” Liang Zhao cleared his throat, his gaze shifting away as if distracted. “Well… about that…”

“Don’t you start fumbling now. Out with it,” Gu Mengran chided, shooting him a sharp look.

Lying came easily, but maintaining a lie? Not so much. Liang Zhao scratched the side of his nose, clearly flustered, and finally confessed, “The truth is, I never made it to the fourth floor. There were only a few guards escorting us up. We took them out in the stairwell. After that, I went with Sister Fang and the others to the fifth and sixth floors to free the villagers who’d been locked up before us.”

As he spoke, Liang Zhao suddenly squeezed Gu Mengran’s hand tighter. He lowered his gaze, guilt etched across his face.

“I’m sorry, Mengran. I should’ve gone back for you sooner. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“Okay, now hold on a sec—” Sister Fang, who had been talking to Xiao Dong nearby, had overheard. She quickly stepped forward and said firmly, “Xiao Liang’s being too hard on himself. He never stopped worrying about you. The moment we got our bearings, he wanted to go down to the second floor to find you. I was the one who stopped him.”

Sister Fang patted Gu Mengran on the shoulder and released a heavy sigh. “You know how it is—this is their territory. If he’d acted alone, it would’ve been suicide. I talked until my mouth was dry, promising over and over we’d head to the second floor as soon as the villagers were safe. Only then did he agree to move with us. Xiao Gu, don’t blame him, okay?”

Gu Mengran hadn’t even opened his mouth before someone was already stepping in to defend him. He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking at Sister Fang. “C’mon, sister Fang. You make it sound like I’m some kind of unreasonable guy. I should be thanking you, really. He’s always charging ahead without thinking—it’s a good thing you held him back.”

He wasn’t just being polite—he genuinely meant it. Gu Mengran was grateful Liang Zhao hadn’t attempted anything reckless. The chaos on the second floor had already attracted unwanted attention. Had Liang Zhao rushed down alone and encountered reinforcements on the way, the consequences could have been dire.

Sister Fang exhaled in relief at his words, then gently pulled Xiao Dong back towards their previous spot.

But the moment she was out of earshot, Gu Mengran’s smile vanished. He fixed Liang Zhao with a glare, clearly unamused. “What were you thinking? Running around on enemy territory by yourself—do you have a death wish?”

“And don’t try to change the subject. Before we boarded the ship, you were with me the whole time—there was no chance for you to talk with Sister Fang’s group. So how did you know to act together in the stairwell? Was it just instinct? Or… did you already know their plan?”

There was no avoiding the truth now.

Liang Zhao didn’t avert his gaze this time. He met Gu Mengran’s eyes, his expression quiet and serious, and nodded. “Yeah. I already knew.”

“When?” Gu Mengran’s tone sharpened.

“Last night. When Xiao Dong came to see us,” Liang Zhao replied honestly.

That explained it.

Gu Mengran had been perplexed—wondering why Liang Zhao had kept things from him, when he’d had ample opportunity to connect with Sister Fang. But now everything clicked into place. Last night, Liang Zhao had told him he simply wanted a “plan.”

So that whole fabricated internal conflict… the boarding and retaking of the ship…

That entire plan—had it been Liang Zhao’s idea all along?

Gu Mengran remained silent, but the look in his eyes conveyed volumes.

Seeing the shift in Gu Mengran’s expression, Liang Zhao didn’t dare hold back any longer. He lowered his voice and confessed honestly, “Sister Fang sensed something was wrong. She realized these people weren’t going to let the village go. Her original plan was to give up some of the supplies and lead the villagers into the mountains overnight—wait them out, then come back once they’d left.”

“Her thinking was cautious—give up the goods to save lives. As long as people are alive, there’s hope. But it’s the apocalypse now. How long someone survives depends entirely on how many supplies they’ve got. The rain hasn’t stopped, and the water level’s still rising. If they want even a chance to find a new place to live before the village is flooded, they need a ton of resources to make it.”

“I wasn’t just tossing out ideas. I helped them weigh the pros and cons, and pointed out—risk and opportunity come hand in hand. A ship big enough to carry an entire village isn’t something you just stumble on. The exact thing they need… is exactly what the enemy has.”

Toward the end, Liang Zhao’s voice grew increasingly uncertain, as if bracing for Gu Mengran’s disapproval.

But Gu Mengran didn’t respond immediately.

Having been granted a second chance at life—after all they had endured over the past year—he had come to understand Liang Zhao far better than before.

Liang Zhao wasn’t the soft-hearted, generous person he had once believed him to be. In fact, he might be the complete opposite.

For those he held dear, Liang Zhao would give his all—risking life and limb without hesitation. But for anyone outside that inner circle, he possessed little empathy, even less patience, and could be utterly cold.

Over a year of living side by side, even their neighbor Heng Rong Sheng hadn’t earned a place in Liang Zhao’s heart. So why would he suddenly start scheming to aid a distant village like Shijin?

It simply wasn’t like him.

Unless… he stood to gain something.

In this conflict between Shijin Village and the cruise ship, they were technically outsiders. Regardless of who emerged victorious or suffered defeat, the outcome had no direct bearing on them.

But Gu Mengran had already pieced it together.

Liang Zhao wanted Shijin Village to prevail.

He wanted Dong Hongbo dead.

He wanted—

Revenge.

For the Gu Mengran from his previous life.

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