Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao, currently penniless and utterly reliant on Lu Xingyao for food, shelter, and every other basic necessity, felt absolutely no shame in treating himself as a “burden” Lu Xingyao was meant to bear.

So, when the man stated—firmly—that he could easily support the two of them, Ruan Zhao met the claim with blatant skepticism.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically.

He immediately launched into a speech detailing just how incredibly expensive he was to maintain—declaring that he only wore the latest luxury brands, had to buy a new outfit every time he saw one he liked, and, if the mood struck him, could go through five to eight changes of clothes a day.

Oh, and when he was bored? He enjoyed collecting shiny things—jewelry, diamonds, gold, jade—you name it. If it sparkled, he wanted it.

Also, he had a refined side: antique scrolls, vintage calligraphy, old paintings… all the good stuff that made him seem cultured and classy.

After listing this array of extravagant hobbies, Ruan Zhao finally turned back to look at Lu Xingyao’s face—ready to adopt a self-righteous, mentor-like tone and offer some well-meaning advice.

“You really shouldn’t make such bold claims when you’re this young,” he said seriously. “You’ll end up embarrassing yourself. Saying you can support the both of us so easily—are you even sure you can afford me?”

“Granted, that’s based on my previous standard of living,” he added quickly, “But now that we’re living together, I suppose I could lower the bar a little—”

He stopped mid-sentence. A phone had been raised in front of his face.

Lu Xingyao’s hand was large, his fingers long and elegant. Even the oversized phone looked small in his grip. His fingers curled loosely around the edge, his skin pale against the faint blue veins that traced up his hand like vines—visible beneath the surface, subtly raised, drawing the eye.

Ruan Zhao froze. His gaze locked onto the veins. He gulped involuntarily.

He had no idea if it was this body’s messed-up biology, or if his brain was just officially broken from hunger, but even the sight of Lu Xingyao’s blood vessels was starting to trigger him.

First came the saliva, then the itching in his teeth. A distinct, primal urge to bite. Crap. His fangs were about to come out.

……

“What are you staring at?”

Ruan Zhao had been looking for far too long. His eyes were glued to Lu Xingyao’s hand, strangely intense, tinged with something close to longing…

Even Lu Xingyao, as slow as he sometimes was, could tell something was definitely off. He lowered his gaze, staring absently at the top of the boy’s fluffy head.

He didn’t speak until Ruan Zhao’s face was a hair’s breadth from his hand—only then did he finally interrupt, his voice low and calm: “What are you staring at?”

The moment the question landed, Ruan Zhao snapped upright as if someone had flipped a switch. It was like waking from a trance—he leapt back a full step, as if Lu Xingyao were some kind of dangerous beast.

His ears flushed red, his cheeks turned pink, and his eyes darted around nervously—left, right, anywhere but at Lu Xingyao.

But even with all that, he still managed to loudly deny everything: “I wasn’t staring!”

Lu Xingyao: “……?” Your eyeballs were basically pressed against me, and you’re saying you weren’t staring? He didn’t bother arguing, but Ruan Zhao could see the disbelief all over his face.

So, naturally, he decided to flip the blame. “Well, it’s your fault anyway!” he said, as if that settled everything.

Honestly, when in doubt, blaming Lu Xingyao had always been a foolproof strategy, and Ruan Zhao was an expert at the art of playing innocent while pointing fingers.

“You suddenly shoved something in my face without saying what you wanted me to look at! What else was I supposed to do? Of course I looked. And then I saw… I saw…”

He saw the pulse of a vein. Because of Lu Xingyao’s pale skin, the bluish veins stood out clearly—twisting from the back of his hand all the way down toward his wrist, disappearing into the dark sleeve below.

They looked… delicious.

Wait, no—healthy.

Very healthy-looking.

Totally not his fault. Clearly, Lu Xingyao was the one seducing him at the wrong time and place. I mean, come on—he was a baby vampire who had just eaten. How was he supposed to resist this kind of temptation? It was like putting a plate of braised chicken drumsticks—steaming hot and falling off the bone—in front of someone who’d just barely stopped starving. Who could resist that?

Lu Xingyao: “If you wanted to look, you could’ve just looked. I didn’t say anything.”

The man lowered his lashes slightly. The corner of his mouth seemed to droop just a touch, a faint hint of disappointment in his expression. After a pause, he said quietly, “And that’s my fault too, huh?”

Ruan Zhao: “……” Okay, maybe he had overreacted a bit.

But it wasn’t without reason—he had to keep his identity as a vampire hidden. Lu Xingyao couldn’t find out. No matter how careful or paranoid he acted, it was all necessary.

Because if his secret got out, and Lu Xingyao—one of the elite of the Vampire Hunters’ Association—realized he’d been lied to, that he’d been feeding, freeloading, and practically treating the guy like his personal blood bank… Ruan Zhao was pretty sure he’d die. Horribly. In every possible sense of the word. Maybe not even a scrap of him would be left behind. At that point, he might as well pack up and hit the reset button, move on with the system to the next world.

The phone was still right there, held up in front of his face. The screen had long since dimmed from lack of activity. And standing before him was Lu Xingyao, shrouded in that subtle gloom—like his mood had drained the color out of him, made everything feel a little dull.

Ruan Zhao felt… a bit guilty. And a little soft-hearted too. He lowered his voice, trying to smooth things over: “I didn’t really mean to blame you. I was just talking and it kinda ran off in that direction. If it helps, I can apologize, okay? I’m sorry, alright?”

Lu Xingyao didn’t respond. He just looked at him in silence, those deep, shadowed eyes radiating quiet pressure.

Ruan Zhao rubbed his cheek, then scratched his hair in pretend distraction. People do that when they’re uncomfortable—they act busy to look less awkward. “Oh, right—what was it you wanted to show me again?” he asked, blatantly forcing the topic to change.

Lu Xingyao: “…My phone.”

Ruan Zhao: “…Oh.”

The phone screen lit up again. It was open to a banking app.

Once the screen lit back up, all it took was a quick password input—and the bank balance was there. Only then did Ruan Zhao remember the conversation they’d been having before he got completely sidetracked by those veins.

They were talking about whether Lu Xingyao could afford to support him. Well.

Not only could he afford it—he could more than afford it. He could raise him like a pampered little prince. Maybe even a spoiled one.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…

Ruan Zhao started getting dizzy from all the digits. This was the first time in his life he’d seen so many zeroes. They looked like they were multiplying, squeezing together, overlapping until they were impossible to count.

Unreal. He was this rich? This was so not the image Ruan Zhao had in mind.

“I also have several properties under my name,” Lu Xingyao added casually. “Shops, mutual funds, dividends from stock portfolios, fixed-income assets… altogether it totals around…”

A number so large, it might as well have been science fiction. Ruan Zhao’s gaze turned hazy. “I apologize for disturbing you.”

Wow. So this is the kind of male lead you are. With all that wealth, the guy still worked late into the night, dragging himself out at the beck and call of some colleague, pushing through until three or four in the morning. Then he’d return home dead tired (presumably), only to wake up again a few hours later like clockwork. Probably never even got a full three hours of sleep. Anyone watching would think this was the routine of some overworked, underpaid corporate drone.

Ruan Zhao genuinely hadn’t expected Lu Xingyao to be this loaded. They hadn’t been living together that long, but Ruan Zhao could already tell—Lu Xingyao wasn’t someone who cared much about material things. His room was practically a minimalist palette of black, white, and gray, with not an extra item in sight.

The carpets, the throw pillows, the bean bag chair, the fuzzy little comfort toys, even those random knickknacks that served no real purpose but somehow made you feel better just looking at them—those only showed up after Ruan Zhao moved in.

Because Ruan Zhao kept making excuses to skip meals, Lu Xingyao didn’t bother much with food either. His own meals were always simple, nothing fancy. Usually just two quick stir-fried dishes—easy, efficient, done.

As for clothes and other daily necessities, Lu Xingyao had indeed gone shopping a few times—but the majority of the things he bought were for Ruan Zhao. A large portion of the clothes still had their tags on.

……

Even though Lu Xingyao was generous with him—always buying whatever he wanted, never once short-changing him—Ruan Zhao had still somehow formed the impression that the man was just… a regular working stiff.

Sure, the title of “Vampire Hunter Association agent” sounded fancy, and granted, the job was worlds apart from your average 9-to-5.

But at the end of the day, didn’t he still rely on a salary from his higher-ups? He was basically a special type of public servant. A well-compensated enforcer with ironclad job security—as long as he didn’t die in the line of duty, he’d never have to worry about unemployment.

Still, even factoring in all the benefits and bonuses, there was no way someone in that position could have amassed this level of wealth. It was ridiculous.

Not to mention, Lu Xingyao didn’t even look that old. With that fresh, almost dewy face, Ruan Zhao seriously doubted he was over twenty-five. Even if he pushed the estimate to the max, his total work experience couldn’t possibly exceed ten years.

Which raised the question: Where the hell did all his money come from? Surely he hadn’t used his position to do something shady, right? Like… extorting his targets?

Vampires tended to accumulate serious wealth over time. Some of the higher-ranking ones, especially those with noble lineage, were sitting on assets so massive they made small nations look poor by comparison.

Take Ruan Zhao himself, for example. His parents were prominent figures among the blood race—true first-generation purebloods, the kind of beings who measured their lifespans in millennia. The wealth they’d built up could only be described as… kingdom-level.

And he, Ruan Zhao, was their one and only child—the first and only heir born after tens of thousands of years of longing and waiting. Naturally, he’d been raised with nothing but love, indulgence, and limitless resources.

To put it more bluntly: his entire clan had basically held him up like a precious gem, ready to grant his every whim. His parents casually gifted him castles, estates, and entire mineral-rich territories.

And his older cousins, aunts, uncles, and assorted extended relatives? When bored, they’d drop off gold and gemstones like party favors. And when they said “a little something,” they were just being polite. What they really meant was “a staggering fortune, by human standards.”

And each time, those “little gifts” could fill several massive storage chests. Rumor had it, he even had a castle dedicated just to storing those things. Over the years, the stockpile had grown so large that it was nearing full capacity. His parents were currently scouting out land to build him a bigger castle.

……

Such was the simple, unembellished daily life of the vampire race’s “little prince.”

But to the “little prince” himself, all of this was just… a sweet kind of burden. Compared to all the blinding gold, the sparkling gemstones, the gloomy, supposedly haunted castles built to block out sunlight, and those mines whose development was always delayed by some new regulation—what he cared about more was something far simpler: Would he go hungry? Could he eat enough?

Ruan Zhao turned his gaze back toward Lu Xingyao. So even if Lu Xingyao had done something morally questionable to his fellow vampires… something just a little unethical… maybe, maybe, he could let it slide. Just a little indulgence. Maybe.

Lu Xingyao must have noticed the look in his eyes, because a faint, helpless smile appeared on his face. He raised a brow. “What are you thinking about?” he asked. “You think I broke the law? That I’m some kind of criminal? You think all that money came from… shady sources?”

Ruan Zhao blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “I didn’t think that at all.”

Lu Xingyao looked like he didn’t quite buy it—but he also seemed amused. He lifted the corner of his mouth, revealing one sharp canine in a crooked grin. “What, I can’t just be a rich kid? Maybe I have rich parents.”

Ruan Zhao let out a delayed “oh,” finally realizing that was… actually a valid possibility. “You know what, when you put it that way, it does make sense.” He’d been overthinking it. Just because Lu Xingyao stood on the opposite side of the battlefield didn’t mean he had to assume the worst.

At the end of the day, he was just a second-generation vampire—his wealth entirely thanks to having rich, powerful parents. So really, it made perfect sense that Lu Xingyao might’ve been born into a wealthy family too. It was Ruan Zhao who’d been narrow-minded. He shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

As he silently reflected on his mistake, even considering whether he should apologize, Lu Xingyao suddenly seemed to remember something and casually changed the subject. “But,” he said, “your suspicion wasn’t completely unfounded.”

Ruan Zhao: “…What?”

“My parents work for the Bureau too,” Lu Xingyao said, clearing his throat like he felt a little awkward. “And when they were younger… they did a few things that were, let’s say, slightly questionable.”

Ruan Zhao: “…”

“For example, they confiscated the estates of several high-ranking vampires.”

Ruan Zhao: “……”

“And… they sort of reallocated those assets—into their own names—in ways that weren’t exactly friendly.”

Ruan Zhao: “……….”

“They even used official charges to label some vampires as criminals, then held quiet auctions so their families had to buy them back at outrageous prices. And then, once they were bought out, they arrested them again—this time legally.”

Ruan Zhao: “…………”

Well, great. So in the end, the Lu family did get rich off fleecing vampires.

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