Axolotl Translations

Even though everything Lu Xingyao just described sounded absolutely appalling, Ruan Zhao didn’t take it too seriously. Mostly because it all felt distant—like something that happened in another world, to someone else. He’d never seen it firsthand.

Still, he asked, just to be safe, “Were you ever involved in any of that?”

Lu Xingyao, naturally, said no. He explained that things were more tightly regulated now. The Bureau wasn’t exclusively run by humans anymore—there were several blood clan elders among the higher-ups now, all of whom followed the law. For their sake, no one wanted to stir up open conflict. So, those shady little “side deals”? They’d become pretty rare.

Ruan Zhao narrowed his eyes. “Pretty rare? So you’re saying it still happens.”

Lu Xingyao shrugged. “The Bureau’s a mixed bag. You can’t completely eliminate this kind of thing.” He added, “And let’s be honest—those vampires did break the law first. If they just followed the treaty and kept their noses clean, nobody would bother them. It’s not like we go around picking fights for fun.”

Ruan Zhao frowned. “That might make sense logically, but it’s still a terrible way to go about things. It’s wrong, no matter who started it.”

Lu Xingyao bent his finger and lightly tapped it against Ruan Zhao’s forehead. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re surprisingly softhearted. Defending those infamous blood clan nobles, are we?”

Ruan Zhao scowled. “I’m not defending them. I’m just saying—if someone breaks the law, there’s a proper system for dealing with that. Backdoor punishments? Not it. Also, if you’re going to talk, just talk. Stop touching me. I’m being serious here. What’s so funny?”

Lu Xingyao pressed his lips together, clearly holding back a smile. “Alright, alright. No more laughing.”

But even without the grin, Ruan Zhao still wasn’t satisfied. He kept eyeing Lu Xingyao suspiciously, determined to catch him slipping. “Did you just smile again?”

“Nope,” Lu Xingyao said. “I just remembered something.”

Ruan Zhao narrowed his eyes. Highly suspicious. Pretty sure Lu Xingyao was just trying to change the subject.

“There’s this little young master on the blood clan’s side,” Lu Xingyao said casually, like he was just spinning a story for fun. His eyes darkened a little, his tone lazy. “Apparently he’s the beloved son of a first-generation vampire prince.”

“They say he lives in a castle made of solid gold. Piles of gemstones form literal hills. The garden paths? Paved with colored diamonds. Filthy rich.”

“We used to joke about arresting him on some made-up charge—just to confiscate his estate. Figured the haul could probably feed the entire country.”

Ruan Zhao choked. “A gold castle? Feed an entire country? Isn’t that a bit much?” He’d never heard of any vampire noble like that. His own family was already considered extremely wealthy—but even they didn’t have enough gold to build a castle. Gemstone mountains? Diamond-paved roads? That was practically a fantasy. The kind of thing you’d see in a movie. A young master with that much money? Really? Was this an action film or a fairy tale?

His system piped up hesitantly: [Isn’t there a chance… that the young master he’s talking about… might be you?]

Ruan Zhao blinked, full of doubt: [Excuse me? I don’t recall owning a castle made of gold.]

System: [Well, you know how gossip works—it’s not just humans who are good at it. Vampires are just as dramatic. Over time, stories get… slightly exaggerated.]

Ruan Zhao, deadpan: [Slightly?]

System, sheepish: [Okay, maybe slightly more than slightly…]

Ruan Zhao: […]

Meanwhile, Lu Xingyao hadn’t noticed his internal dialogue. He shook his head and sighed. “What’s unfortunate,” he said.

That snapped Ruan Zhao out of it. He paused the mental bickering with his system and looked up. “What is?”

Lu Xingyao dragged out the pause, clearly enjoying the suspense, and finally said, “It’s just… the blood clan’s protected him really well. We haven’t been able to gather much info. And over the past few years, neither he nor any of his close relatives have had so much as a single crime on record.”

“So even if someone wanted to go after his wealth, there’s just… no opening.”

Ruan Zhao: “……”

“So I should be thanking my law-abiding family,” Ruan Zhao muttered, “for not giving you people an excuse to come after us.”

Now that he knew he was one of the blood clan’s “targets” simply for being rich enough to tempt the Vampire Hunter Association, Ruan Zhao’s mood turned… complicated.

Sure, he had inherited the memories of the “Ruan Zhao” who belonged to this world. But since he hadn’t actually seen any so-called “gold castle,” the idea that he was rolling in obscene wealth still felt kind of abstract. It just didn’t feel real.

And yet—he was annoyed. Really annoyed. And even worse, he couldn’t say anything about it! He huffed silently and rolled his eyes where Lu Xingyao couldn’t see, then let out a disinterested “Oh,” cold and flat, like he didn’t care at all. Point made: he had no interest in continuing this topic.

A faint awkwardness settled between them, the air thick with an unspoken tension. After a pause, Lu Xingyao spoke up—sounding like he was trying to clarify something. “I only heard that stuff from others.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never been involved in it myself.”

“Oh.”

“I actually think it’s really wrong, what they’re trying to do.”

Ruan Zhao turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Then, with a bright, saccharine smile, he said, “So what, do you want a gold star now? Should I praise you for being a model citizen, for being so different from the rest of them?”

Lu Xingyao went quiet for a moment before murmuring, “No need.”

Through the living room window, the sky in the distance had already lightened—the deep black of night giving way to the first signs of dawn.

With all the indifference he could muster, Ruan Zhao tossed a curt “Good night” in Lu Xingyao’s direction. Just as coldly, he flung the TV remote onto his lap. “If you’re going to watch a movie, keep the volume down,” he added. “Don’t wake me.” Then he turned and headed back to his bedroom.

Privately, he decided this frosty attitude? He was going to maintain it for at least three days.

That… did not go according to plan. By the next day, he cracked. Because he was hungry again. Damn it. His body was clearly not on his side—it betrayed him at the worst possible time!

So, using the system to confirm that Lu Xingyao was deeply asleep, Ruan Zhao tiptoed into the bedroom like a practiced thief. Well, second time’s always easier. With the ease of familiarity, he climbed into bed, found a comfy spot, grabbed Lu Xingyao’s hand, and—like choosing a favorite snack—picked the finger he liked best.

His newly grown fangs sank quickly into the tip of the finger. Warm blood flooded into his mouth. And just like that, his whole body went light, warm, and floating—as if he could drift straight up to the ceiling. Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids—bright, dazzling bursts of color. He couldn’t help but let out a soft, satisfied little moan.

……

Yeah, okay. Hard to stay mad at someone when you’re literally drinking their blood. And just like that, the cold war—one he had launched entirely on his own—ended just as unilaterally. He started talking to Lu Xingyao again.

Lu Xingyao, for his part, looked honestly surprised—like he couldn’t quite believe the emotional storm had finally passed. He lifted his eyes, staring at Ruan Zhao for a long moment, like confirming this wasn’t a trick. When the man focused like that, with those deep, dark eyes locked onto you, there was something almost predatory in the intensity.

Only when Ruan Zhao started to frown uncomfortably did he finally—reluctantly—look away. “…What?”

Ruan Zhao sighed. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” He repeated it again—patiently this time.

“I washed some red dates,” Ruan Zhao said. “Want some?”

Lu Xingyao blinked. “Red dates?”

“Mhm…” Ruan Zhao fluttered his eyelashes innocently. “I feel like you’ve been looking a little pale lately. Aren’t red dates supposed to help with blood and energy?”

He set a plate of freshly washed dates in front of Lu Xingyao, water droplets still clinging to the shiny skins. His voice softened into a coaxing tone, like he was speaking to a small child. “Eat a lot, okay?” The more he ate, the better Ruan Zhao’s food supply would be.

Lu Xingyao stared at the mountain of dates piled high on the plate, his voice lifting slightly with confusion, “Do I really look that bad?” Honestly, he looked the same as always.

At twenty-something years old, Lu Xingyao was built like he could wrestle a bear. Even after several sleepless nights, there wasn’t a single trace of dark circles under his eyes. His skin stayed flawless—smooth, pale, and healthy.

If anything, Ruan Zhao looked far worse by comparison. His complexion was so pale it was almost translucent, especially in sunlight. It was a delicate kind of whiteness, like he belonged to another world altogether. His light gray lashes and almost colorless eyes made him look like a living watercolor painting, fragile and ethereal—only his lips held a vivid, shocking red. And now, this obviously weaker little vampire was boldly pulling the “blatant lying with a straight face” card on a healthy human.

Ruan Zhao nodded earnestly. “Of course you look bad! Why would I lie to you?” Then, without giving Lu Xingyao a chance to refuse, he picked up a plump, juicy date and pressed it right up to his lips. “I picked the biggest and sweetest ones,” he said, voice soft. “I even washed them for so long my hands almost shriveled.”

Lu Xingyao smiled faintly. “You really went all out.”

“Of course! I’m thinking about your health,” Ruan Zhao said solemnly. “Is it good? Here, have another,” he said, already shoving the next date toward him, completely immersed in the joy of hand-feeding.

Before long, Ruan Zhao had force-fed Lu Xingyao through more than half the plate of dates. Maybe it was just his imagination, but after eating all that, Lu Xingyao’s complexion actually did seem a little rosier. The more Ruan Zhao looked, the more satisfied he felt. His eyes crinkled into crescent moons from how wide he was smiling.

But holding his arm up to keep feeding someone wasn’t exactly effortless. After a while, his muscles started aching. Ruan Zhao, who had zero tolerance for discomfort, immediately shoved the plate into Lu Xingyao’s hands and made him eat by himself.

Meanwhile, he massaged his sore wrist and kept glaring over, making sure Lu Xingyao actually finished the remaining dates—like a stern teacher watching a student slack off on their homework.

Feeling the weird pressure, Lu Xingyao stiffened slightly. “Do I really have to eat them all?” he asked.

Ruan Zhao dragged out his words in a dramatic whine, “I washed them for so long…” Truthfully, it hadn’t even been five minutes. “The water was freezing,” he added pitifully. Though, realistically, it was barely chilly. “And it’s all from the bottom of my heart,” he said with genuine sincerity. At least that part wasn’t a lie.

When it came to “helping Lu Xingyao build better blood,” he was absolutely dedicated. The dates were just the beginning. He had also ordered longans, black sesame, and an assortment of animal livers online.

Lu Xingyao gave up trying to reason with him and decided to change the subject. “Why aren’t you eating any?”

Ruan Zhao’s breath caught slightly. “…I already ate,” he said.

Lu Xingyao narrowed his eyes. “Really?” Without much expression, Lu Xingyao lowered his lashes and casually picked out the plumpest date from the pile. He pressed it to Ruan Zhao’s lips, his tone light and easy: “Then have another.”

Ruan Zhao’s breathing quickened without him realizing it. His long, delicate lashes fluttered nervously, like the wings of a butterfly.

They were so close that he could clearly smell the sweet fragrance of the red date. In his memory, it was a soft, rich sweetness, with just the slightest crispness. Ruan Zhao had liked it very much.

But now—his brain automatically twisted that scent into something disgusting and inedible. Trash. No nutrition, no appeal—just nauseating. Even if he forced himself to swallow it, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

And yet—Ruan Zhao looked at Lu Xingyao. Maybe he hesitated a little too long, because the man’s expression had already shifted into faint confusion, his gaze tinged with a hint of suspicion.

Ruan Zhao froze, caught awkwardly in the middle. Sure, he could throw a little tantrum or act spoiled like he usually did to gloss things over. But if he kept doing that, it would eventually start seeming… off.

And he couldn’t guarantee that Lu Xingyao would always be so easy to fool—would always choose to believe him.

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