Axolotl Translations

“Morning.”

“Morning! Where are you headed today?”

“Whoa, what brings you up to the second floor?”

……

The cabin door didn’t muffle sounds well. As dawn crept in, voices from the hallway—loud, overlapping, and undeniably awake—drifted into the room. Gu Mengran stirred at the faintest noise; he never dared to sleep too deeply in someone else’s territory. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep, but he forced them open.

Rustling sounds came from beside him—Liang Zhao was already getting dressed.

Gu Mengran sat up too, glancing out the window at the dull gray sky, then over at their still-sleeping roommate. He kept his voice low. “They said someone would come for us today, but when exactly? I’m starving. I can hear people talking outside. Should we just follow the crowd and grab breakfast?”

There was no way they had individual kitchens on a ship like this; meals had to be cooked in bulk. From the chatter outside, it sounded like most of the ship was already awake, and if they were up, the first thing on their minds had to be food. Gu Mengran was both hungry and thirsty. His stomach felt hollow, the acid starting to burn.

Of course, he wasn’t a child—he could deal with hunger. But the theory he’d had last night made it hard to sit still. He needed to confirm it.

Liang Zhao pulled on clothes that clearly didn’t fit well, then stood up slowly and casually reached out to ruffle Gu Mengran’s hair. “It’s not our place,” he said gently. “We’re guests here. Wandering around someone else’s home uninvited is rude. Be patient—just hang in there a little longer.”

Gu Mengran froze, halfway through pulling on his shirt, and stared at him suspiciously. “That… doesn’t sound like something you’d say.”

“What, you think I’m some uncultured barbarian?” Liang Zhao shot back with a grin.

Gu Mengran shook his head. “No, just… it’s not like you.” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he slumped, sighing heavily, looking both disheartened and defeated.

Liang Zhao quickly crouched in front of him, cupping Gu Mengran’s face in both hands with mock-seriousness. “I am anxious too, Mengran. I want to find your grandpa and the others just as badly. But we’re the ones asking for help here. We need to lower our heads and follow their rules.”

He hesitated, then glanced at Song Jun still sleeping nearby. Leaning in, he whispered so only Gu Mengran could hear: “This might be a test—to see if we follow orders. They’re deliberately leaving us hanging to judge whether we’re worth keeping. There are over two hundred people on this ship. If we act like we can’t follow orders, they’ll never let us stay.”

Going out on their own wouldn’t necessarily label them as troublemakers, but it would still suggest something—namely, that they weren’t exactly the obedient type. Strong-willed, independent thinkers weren’t easy to manage.

Set aside the ace up their sleeve for a moment—if they truly had nothing, no home, and were rescued out of the blue, the expected response would be: gratitude, caution, obedience.

Gu Mengran stayed quiet for a long time. When he finally looked up again, the despondency in his eyes had mostly faded. “I was being too impatient. I didn’t think it through. You’re right—we’re just two homeless strays. We shouldn’t act like we’ve got any leverage.”

And sure enough, Liang Zhao’s guess was spot on. The silence they’d been met with wasn’t a coincidence—it was intentional.

By the time daylight fully broke, Song Jun had also left. He didn’t say anything on his way out, but that look he gave them—subtle but lingering—seemed to say everything.

From morning to noon, and noon to dusk, no one came. It was as if they’d been completely forgotten. Hungry and waiting, they dozed off, woke up, and dozed off again in the cramped little cabin.

Of course, appearances could be deceiving. Once Song Jun left and it was just the two of them, Gu Mengran relaxed. He pulled out a strawberry and popped it into Liang Zhao’s mouth. A bit later, he slipped half a piece of jerky into his own.

They didn’t completely let their guard down, though. Just in case someone walked in—or picked up on the scent—everything Gu Mengran brought out was bite-sized and low-odor.

Trapped in a room with nowhere to go, time stretched endlessly.

Eventually, after filling his stomach and catching some more sleep, Gu Mengran opened his eyes again to find the sky outside dimming.

“Ugh, this is seriously driving me nuts,” he muttered, shaking his head to clear the haze of sleep. He let out a long sigh and stretched, then shrugged on the old cotton coat that young man had given them the night before.

Liang Zhao was still standing by the window like a statue, eyes fixed on the fading horizon, lost in thought. He didn’t even register Gu Mengran’s voice.

Neither of them had really gotten proper rest these past two days. They never slept deeply. During the day, they were too worried someone might show up, so they took turns—one resting while the other kept watch.

Now that Gu Mengran was up, it was Liang Zhao’s turn. He pulled on his clothes and got out of bed, about to tell Liang Zhao to go lie down when—

Knock knock knock.

Someone rapped on the door.

It was already dark, so naturally, Gu Mengran assumed it was Song Jun back again. Since he was closest, he stepped over and opened the door without hesitation.

But when it swung open, the person standing there wasn’t Song Jun at all.

It was a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, with a noticeable bald spot.

The man clearly hadn’t expected the door to open so quickly—he froze for a brief second. Then his stiff expression relaxed into a warm, friendly smile. “So, how are you boys settling in? Getting used to the place?”

Here it comes! Gu Mengran slipped straight into performance mode, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Very used to it. Your ship’s amazing. The waves barely register—we don’t feel a thing. It’s way more stable than my old fishing boat.”

A flawless bit of flattery. The man beamed, his smile widening with delight. “Of course! Little boats and big ships are worlds apart. What knocks around a small vessel barely tickles the Giant.”

“Exactly, no comparison at all,” Gu Mengran agreed, grinning as he quickly stepped aside to clear a path for the man. But before the visitor could step in, Gu Mengran bent forward in one smooth, practiced motion and gave a deep, earnest bow. “Thank you—thank you, Captain. Thank you for sending someone to save us. If it weren’t for your help that night, my brother and I would’ve frozen to death out there on the boat.”

He didn’t know the man’s exact rank, but someone showing up alone like this had to be part of the Giant’s leadership—high-ranking for sure. And besides, every sailor dreams of being captain, right? Calling him that couldn’t hurt.

The combo of humility and praise hit the mark—the man looked genuinely stunned for a second. He reached out to lift Gu Mengran up by the arm, then clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Ah, you’re a good one, little brother. No need for all that. Times like this, everyone’s struggling. Helping each other out is the least we can do.”

Gu Mengran met his eyes, full of wide-eyed gratitude and admiration. “Captain, you—”

“Hey now, don’t go calling me captain,” the man laughed, waving it off, though his grin only grew wider. “I’m not the captain. I’m the first mate—surname Wan. You can just call me Brother Wan.”

“Nice to meet you, Brother Wan. I’m Gu Mengran, and this is my brother, Gu Liangzhao.”

“Ha! Those names are something else—both with the same surname, huh?”

Gu Mengran laughed. “Yeah, my middle name came from our grandpa, and my brother’s came from our grandma.”

A few words exchanged at the door, and just like that, the distance between them vanished.

Outside, the hallway grew noisy with the sounds of people—it was probably mealtime. Brother Wan stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and sat down casually on the sleeping mat that had belonged to Song Jun. He waved them over.

“Come on, Xiao Meng, Xiao Liang. Sit, sit—let’s talk properly.”

Gu Mengran gave a quick response, tugging Liang Zhao to sit down across from Brother Wan at a slight angle.

With the small talk and flattery delivered, Brother Wan got straight to the point as soon as they sat. “I’ll be blunt. There was another bout of wind and waves late last night. This morning, I had someone check out the area where you sent your distress call.” He shrugged. “We were thinking maybe we could tow your boat back and do some repairs, but… there’s nothing left. Not even a trace of it. So, I came over to ask what you two boys are planning to do next.”

“Our plans?” Gu Mengran lowered his gaze, a hint of disappointment in his expression. After a long pause, he let out a helpless sigh. “The boat’s gone, and honestly, we don’t know what to do now. There’s water everywhere these days… without a boat, we can’t go anywhere.”

Brother Wan didn’t respond right away. He studied Gu Mengran closely, then glanced sideways at Liang Zhao, who still looked tense and wary. Finally, stroking his chin, he said casually, “Well, if you really don’t have anywhere to go, you could consider staying on the Giant.”

“Really?” Gu Mengran’s eyes lit up. He looked so excited, he nearly jumped to his feet. Realizing how over-the-top he looked, he scratched his head awkwardly and forced a dry laugh. “Sorry, Brother Wan, got a little carried away. It’s just that… we’ve got nothing. Would it really be okay for us to stay?”

“Who says you’ve got nothing?” Brother Wan chuckled. “Young folks have strength and energy—those are the best things you can have. As long as you’re willing to work hard, follow orders, and don’t slack off or act like freeloaders, the Giant will always have room for you.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Gu Mengran said quickly. “My brother and I are strong, we work fast, and we never try to cut corners.” He hesitated, then added, a bit awkwardly, “It’s just…”

Brother Wan raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

Gu Mengran didn’t hold back. “We got separated from our family. They’re still out there, somewhere on the water. Until we find them… we can’t really settle down here.”

“Tsk…” Brother Wan exhaled, clearly a little exasperated. He rubbed his chin in thought, then looked back at Gu Mengran. “When you say they’re out at sea, you mean the East Sea too? What kind of boat were they on? When did you get separated? We’ve been patrolling the coast for months—we’ve seen a few boats.”

Finally. After all that effort, Gu Mengran had managed to steer the conversation exactly where he wanted it. He didn’t waste a second, quickly describing the Windwing and Yongyue—their types and distinctive features.

Truthfully, he wasn’t holding out much hope. This was the sea they were talking about—vast, endless, and battered by over a year of nonstop heavy rain. It wasn’t like running into someone on a road.

After all that buildup, their ultimate goal remained clear: to stay aboard the Giant, while also making it known they were searching for someone. It was about planting a seed—getting the crew to keep an eye out or give them a hand if the chance arose. Their place on the Giant would come with conditions.

But what Gu Mengran didn’t expect was how the name Windwing would make Brother Wan visibly pause. He propped up his chin, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he were trying to place where he’d heard it before.

Seconds ticked by. Watching Brother Wan’s expression grow increasingly serious, Gu Mengran couldn’t stay calm any longer. Manners be damned, he blurted out, “Brother Wan, think carefully—red and green, a river vessel. The deck should be covered with a waterproof—”

“Wait a sec,” Brother Wan interrupted, lifting a hand. After a moment of thought, he said, “A cruise ship would’ve stood out. I’m sure we haven’t seen one like that. But the name Windwing—that really does ring a bell.”

“Windwing… I’ve definitely heard that somewhere. Why can’t I remember? Red and green, river…”

Then suddenly, Brother Wan slapped his thigh with a loud smack. “I’ve got it! Our captain! He’s always name-dropping that ship when he brags! Yeah, he definitely mentioned Windwing!”

The excitement lasted all of two seconds before his brow furrowed again. “But… wait, that can’t be right. He said the Windwing was a cargo ship. Not a river vessel.”

Ship names are kind of like license plates—each one has to be unique, no duplicates or homophones allowed. But in recent years, a new rule came into play: names of decommissioned ships could be reused.

So… could the Windwing the Giant’s captain mentioned be…

…Grandpa’s old cargo ship?

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