Axolotl Translations

The sky was overcast, and a fine rain fell like strands of silver thread, drifting silently through the air. Ripples spread across the endless expanse of water as a small dark green boat drifted alone, slicing through the curtain of rain. Its hull bobbed gently with the waves. Raindrops tapped rhythmically against the canopy—pit-pat, pit-pat. All around, there was nothing but gray. No signs of life. Only the lone boat sailing stubbornly forward, fading slowly into the misty curtain of rain.

Ever since they entered the Huang River region, Gu Mengran had fallen into a slump—his energy and drive from before were gone. At the crack of dawn, he dragged out a lounge chair and flopped down next to Liang Zhao, eyes vacant as he stared listlessly at the water, lost in thought.

Liang Zhao had been watching him for a while now, sneaking glances every few minutes. But Gu Mengran didn’t react at all. If his eyes weren’t open, Liang Zhao might’ve thought he was asleep. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong—the unhappiness was written all over Gu Mengran’s face, plain as day.

The muddy waves surged wildly, drowning out any remaining shapes or contours. The river they passed through a year ago, the roads they once traveled—all washed away by relentless rain, day after day, night after night. Now, only this vast, boundless flood remained.

Mountains, forests, rivers—one by one, they sank beneath the water with time. A piece of civilization was vanishing, turning into history. In its place: a silent, desolate water world.

To survive and witness it all… was both a stroke of luck and a kind of curse. It was natural to feel a little emotional—but sinking too deep into it wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Glancing at the dazed and distant Gu Mengran, Liang Zhao didn’t speak words of comfort. Instead, he cleared his throat with a soft cough, then casually said, “My throat’s a little itchy… Mengran, could you pour me a glass of water?”

Gu Mengran didn’t even lift his eyelids. With a flick of his hand, a bottle of mineral water appeared in his palm. He twisted off the cap and handed it over in silence. Clean and efficient. Not a word.

Liang Zhao blinked in surprise, then took the bottle and sipped. He screwed the cap back on and set it aside.

“Cough, cough… cough, cough…” Just as the bottle touched the ground, Liang Zhao was overtaken by another bout of coughing.

Finally, Gu Mengran moved. He glanced up, then reached over and placed a hand on Liang Zhao’s forehead. “You’re coughing now? Did I pass it to you?” He frowned. “At least you don’t have a fever.”

“I’m fine, no cold,” Liang Zhao replied with a straight face. “Just a bit of an itch in my throat. Maybe I just need some fruit?”

Gu Mengran shot him a glare and pushed himself up from the lounge chair using the armrests. “A scratchy throat is usually the first sign of a cold. Fruit? What you need is medicine.”

As he spoke, he began pulling out all kinds of medicine bottles from his space, ready to mix up a dose right then and there. Liang Zhao’s eyelid twitched, and he quickly tried to stop him.

“Mengran, you can’t just take medicine randomly. I swear I’m not sick—my throat’s just a little itchy. No other symptoms. How about… just a packet of cold granules? You know, as a precaution?”

Gu Mengran frowned, giving him a skeptical look. “You sure?”

“Positive.” Liang Zhao nodded firmly.

“…Alright then.”

Gu Mengran got up and went back into the cabin to boil some water and rinse a cup. Not long after, he returned with a steaming mug of herbal cold medicine. Of course, none of this interrupted his daze. He passed the drink to Liang Zhao, watched as he took slow sips, then lay back down in the chair and resumed his blank stare out over the water.

Liang Zhao: …That was a complete waste of a cold remedy.

Determined not to let Gu Mengran spiral into gloomy thoughts again, Liang Zhao waited less than two minutes before tapping the boat’s steering wheel lightly and saying,

“So weird… my mouth feels kinda tasteless. Mengran, I think I want some fruit.”

The lounge chair creaked to a halt. Gu Mengran looked up, eyes slightly narrowed, a glint of interest in them.

“Wow. The sun must be rising in the west—did you just ask for fruit twice today? What do you want? I’ll get it.”

Liang Zhao smiled and began ordering: “Strawberries, pineapple, kiwi…”

“…That many?” Gu Mengran blinked at him, caught off guard. Still, even as he grumbled, he didn’t hesitate. Someone who barely ever craved food suddenly had an appetite—how could he say no?

He got up again, headed to the back cabin, and moved the folding table to the cockpit. Then he put the lounge chair away into the space and brought out a small stool instead. Lastly, he grabbed a mini bucket.

He filled it with clean spring water, sat on the stool, and began taking out the fruit Liang Zhao had asked for—bright red strawberries, golden slices of pineapple, fuzzy little kiwis…

Before long, the folding table was filled.

Gu Mengran washed the strawberries and plated them carefully, placing them on the cockpit dashboard with care. He jerked his chin toward them and said, “Start with these. I’ll prep the rest.”

The strawberries were plump and red, bursting with sweetness and an inviting aroma. But Liang Zhao merely glanced at them before looking up at Gu Mengran, eyes filled with innocent grievance. “Are we just… eating them like this?”

“…Uh, how else would you eat them?” Gu Mengran looked at him, puzzled. “You want toothpicks or something?”

“No, no need for that.” Liang Zhao waved it off. “It just feels like something’s missing. Like…” He pointed at the tip of a strawberry, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly, his eyes full of anticipation. “Could we maybe add a dried plum here?”

“Strawberry with dried plum?”

“Mhm.”

“…Alright, sure.” Strawberries with dried plums—it wasn’t unheard of. Gu Mengran had tried it before; the flavor combo was pretty good. Still, Liang Zhao requesting it out of the blue? That was… odd. Suspiciously odd.

He picked up the plate of strawberries and went to fetch a bag of dried plums from his storage space. Sitting back down at the folding table, he pulled out a small knife and began carefully slicing into each strawberry. The sweet aroma quickly teased his senses, and before long, he was eating one slice for every one he prepared. Even the ones he accidentally cut wrong got popped into his mouth.

Half an hour later, Gu Mengran let out a satisfied burp that reeked of pineapple and strawberry. On the table, only half a slice of pineapple, a handful of strawberries, and two kiwis remained. Liang Zhao turned his head just in time to catch that moment. He raised an eyebrow, smiling in amusement. “Enjoyed yourself, huh?”

Gu Mengran blushed, stammering, “I—I’ll wash you some more!”

“No need. This is plenty.” Liang Zhao chuckled and reminded gently, “Don’t overdo it. Too much sour stuff’s not good—might mess with your teeth.”

Gu Mengran experimentally bit his teeth together and grinned. “Not sore. I’m good.”

Liang Zhao had only pretended to fuss over the fruit to give Gu Mengran something to do—something to distract him from brooding. In the end, it didn’t exactly chase the blues away, but the fruit feast sure put him in a good mood.

Mission accomplished. Liang Zhao picked up a strangely shaped strawberry and popped it into his mouth. His eyes softened, and he smiled silently. One man’s joy, another man’s woe.

Gu Mengran patted his now-bloated belly and groaned, “Ugh, I’m so full. I don’t even need lunch. I gotta move around and digest.”

Liang Zhao looked at him, amused. “Do what?”

Gu Mengran propped his chin in his hand. “Good question. I don’t know either.”

The trip across the East Sea was long and dull. Trapped in a cramped boat cabin, there was precious little to do.

Liang Zhao, like a machine, got up every day and planted himself in front of the helm, diligently steering the boat from dawn till dusk. As for Gu Mengran—no laundry, no cooking, no mopping, no dishes. All he did was tidy the cabin now and then, feed the livestock in his space every night… and sleep. Then eat. Then sleep again. What could he do, really?

After thinking it over for a while, the only productive idea he came up with was to do some gardening in his space. It would keep him busy and yield results. But the voyage was already dull and boring enough—if he up and disappeared too, leaving Liang Zhao all alone… Forget it. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. After agonizing for a bit, Gu Mengran ended up just pacing a few laps around the cabin.

Once his food coma wore off a little, he strolled back to the helm, pulled out a tablet from his space, and sat on a little stool to watch a movie. That’s when he noticed something interesting. As long as he was fully focused on the film, Liang Zhao stayed silent. He’d occasionally sneak a glance at the screen or at him—but he never interrupted.

But the moment Gu Mengran’s mind started to drift, Liang Zhao would immediately chime in—asking him to grab something or striking up a conversation. Was it coincidence? Gu Mengran decided to test it.

The movie cut to a quiet scene. He subtly lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes, pretending to stare thoughtfully out over the water. Thirty seconds… one minute… ninety seconds…

“What should we have for dinner? How about hotpot?” Liang Zhao’s deep voice rang out right on cue.

Gu Mengran whipped his head around, eyes wide in disbelief, gaze burning into him. Liang Zhao didn’t flinch. He just raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Not in the mood for games, Gu Mengran came right out with it. “You’re acting really weird today. What’s your deal? Are you deliberately keeping me from relaxing?”

“Yep,” Liang Zhao admitted openly. “Not letting you relax.”

Gu Mengran was baffled. “Why?”

Liang Zhao chuckled. “You tell me. Earlier, you were staring out at the water like the world had ended. Face all gloomy, soul halfway gone—I couldn’t exactly let you sit there and brood yourself into oblivion, could I?”

“Oh, that moment?” Gu Mengran rubbed his nose, sounding a little guilty. “I wasn’t overthinking or anything. Just got a bit sentimental. Watching all that beautiful land vanish without a word… kinda got to me.”

Liang Zhao let go of the helm with his left hand and reached out, catching Gu Mengran’s hand mid-air. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Spending too long in a confined space, with no social contact—it’s easy for people to spiral. Don’t underestimate that kind of mood. I’ve seen crew members develop serious psychological issues from it. Some even…”

Gu Mengran wrapped his fingers around Liang Zhao’s warm hand, then started playing with it like it was some kind of fun little puzzle—prying his fingers open one by one.

“You’re not wrong. The cabin’s tiny and cramped, and there’s nothing to do. And with just the two of us here… we can’t even scrounge up a full table for cards!”

“Ugh, all I do is eat and sleep! I’m so bored! I don’t even feel like playing games, or listening to music, or watching movies. Life is so dull…”

He kept chattering nonstop, getting more animated with every word. Meanwhile, Liang Zhao’s expression darkened visibly beside him. His usually unreadable eyes began to cloud over with concern.

“But!” Just as Liang Zhao parted his lips to say something, Gu Mengran suddenly lifted their joined hands—and planted a loud kiss right on the back of Liang Zhao’s hand.

“What are you thinking?” he grinned. “I’m not gonna get depressed. I’m not gonna lose it. Doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing—as long as you’re with me, I’m good.”

“Two lifetimes, Liang Zhao. It took me two lifetimes just to end up as your boyfriend. I still laugh to myself about it at night. How could I ever let go—”

“Hey!” Before he could finish, Liang Zhao shot to his feet. He leaned down in one swift, fluid motion, wrapped both arms around Gu Mengran’s waist, and effortlessly hoisted him up into a bridal carry.

Before Gu Mengran even had time to react, he was already in Liang Zhao’s arms. The boat drifted along quietly, unmanned. Liang Zhao, moving with quick, purposeful strides, carried Gu Mengran to the back of the boat, pushing aside the thick gray curtain that separated the cabin from the rear.

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