Recap
The neighbor handed him a spoon, inviting him to taste. Shen Ji ate one bite, then stopped.
“Not good? Why did you stop?” The neighbor leaned his forehead on his hand, smiling faintly, his expression gentle — yet more frightening than a madman’s rage.
Shen Ji set down the spoon. “Too sweet.”
“Is that so? My apologies.” The neighbor picked up the cake, scooped a piece, and held it to Shen Ji’s lips, smiling. “Next time I’ll be more careful.”
Shen Ji frowned, refusing. “Take it away. I don’t want it.”
The neighbor’s smile vanished. His eyes turned cold. “You must eat it. I made this for you. You must eat it today, or you won’t be leaving this room.”
“This is my home. You’re the one who should leave.” Shen Ji clenched his fists, struggling against the urge to smash his face.
“Don’t be rash, teacher.” The neighbor sighed softly, unwilling to anger his beloved. He yielded reluctantly. “My attitude was too harsh. Forgive my rudeness. How about this? Shall I tie you up and feed you, or will you eat it yourself? This time, I’ll let you choose.”
Shen Ji took the plate with the little slices of cake, as if seeing a sacred offering at the center of the world with a missing corner. He lifted his head and saw his neighbor’s face merged with his boyfriend’s, smiling at him.
Shen Ji raised the cake and smashed it hard into that face, then turned and ran.
The door he pushed open should have led to freedom, but the moment he stepped out, his body suddenly hung in midair and crashed heavily onto a soft bed.
The world spun before his eyes, beasts gnawed at his ears, and Shen Ji felt as though he lay upon a damp, sticky chopping board. He tried to crawl but could not rise, tried to flee but could not escape. His limbs were being cut apart, snakes and ants crawled around him, and he could only stare wide-eyed like a fish, refusing to close his eyes as he gazed at the bloody sky above.
His mouth, stripped of its jaw’s support, became a bottomless pit. Cold scales scraped at his throat, twisting and turning as though the creature had made his windpipe its warm nest, preparing to lay eggs and hibernate there.
When he was stuffed full, unable to hold anything more, his boyfriend picked up the plate of cakes again and smeared fresh cream across his empty shell of a body without wasting a drop.
The gentleness of his boyfriend’s movements stood in stark contrast to Shen Ji’s terrified, helpless gaze — eyes brimming with tears like a fish about to drown.
“Just a few days apart, and teacher no longer fears me. I’m delighted. Could you tell me what you’ve experienced these past days? I’m curious.” His boyfriend asked sincerely, but received no reply.
The jawless mute could not respond.
His boyfriend wasn’t angry, only a little regretful. Yet the sight of the spread befitting the God of Beauty was now fully adorned, compensating any regrets he held.
Before the feast, a fairy tale book appeared in his boyfriend’s hands, meant to ease the tense atmosphere.
“Teacher must be hungry. Please endure a little longer. Since you won’t speak, I’ll tell you the story instead. Don’t worry, I’ll be very serious — I won’t let you down.”
A fantastical adventure unfolded from his boyfriend’s lips, but it was unlike any version of Alice ever told. It was less the tale of Alice, more of a recounting of someone’s nightmare.
Metaphors filled the story. This Alice was no fairy tale heroine but something grotesque, oppressive, and painful. Humanity was stripped away step by step, until the tale overturned every past version and forged an evil Alice.
This evil Alice, tempered through countless cycles, bloodstained and weary, descended into the eighteenth level of hell, severed the dragon’s head, and returned to the human world.
When Shen Ji awoke, he forgot everything — only remembering he had dreamed another nightmare.
His neighbor leaned against the bed, smiling: “You’re awake, teacher.”
Shen Ji stared at the ceiling, unmoving. “What are you looking at?”
The neighbor held a fairy tale book. “I want to help teacher find Alice. But first I must know what adventures Alice went through.”
“Do you know?”
“I know.”
“What does it say?”
“It says a little girl entered Wonderland, faced many strange encounters, finally cut off the dragon’s head, saved the world, and returned to reality.”
“Does cutting off the head really let you return to reality?”
“That depends on whose head is cut.”
“There’s no dragon here.”
“Yes, teacher, of course not.
“What about outside?”
“There is no outside.”
Shen Ji tidied himself and wrote Alice’s adventure into his own story. But in his version, the one who severed the dragon’s head was no longer Alice.
He sat at his desk, the memories of yesterday and the past gradually returning, until they stopped at the moment he burst out the door.
The neighbor came up behind him, hands on his shoulders, smiling as he watched the stories he wove grew flesh.
Shen Ji asked, “What happened last night?”
The neighbor bent down and kissed his forehead. “You didn’t want to eat the cakes I made. You threw a tantrum.”
Shen Ji was surprised at himself — how unreasonable he had become. “What did I do?”
The neighbor lowered his eyes, looking deeply aggrieved. “You smashed the cake onto me and ran out without looking back, only returning at dawn.”
“And the cake?”
The neighbor laughed softly, childlike and manic. “I ate it. Every last bit.”
Shen Ji turned away, uneasy at that smile, and dropped the subject.
Much later, the neighbor still stood behind him. Shen Ji’s mind was in chaos, unable to write further. “How long will you keep watching?”
The neighbor stepped back considerately. “Alright, I won’t disturb teacher.”
But he didn’t leave. He wandered around the room, then cheerfully picked up the remote.
The television was useless, unplugged long ago. The curtains had never been opened. Only the fridge in the corner still worked. Life cut off from modernity, as though to block some unseen gaze.
The neighbor returned, proud like a child with a discovery. “Teacher, doesn’t your hand get tired writing so much every day? Why not use a computer?”
Shen Ji poured cold water on him: “If you can’t sit quietly, then leave.”
“I clearly stand before you, yet you acknowledge my existence. That confuses me. My dear teacher, don’t ignore me all the time. Show me a little mercy and indulge once in a while.”
Shen Ji paused, feeling warmth creep up his fingers. Without turning, he said: “Is this a threat?”
The neighbor clasped his neck gently, fingers resting on his Adam’s apple, rubbing slightly, surprised: “How could it be? Seems some of my actions misled you. Children threaten; adults only weep and beg. If I cried, would you pity me?”
“I cannot pity those crocodile tears.”
“Then I have no choice. I must tell you bad news: hell is real, at the eighteenth level.”
“If the eighteenth level leads to hell, then where does Wonderland lead?”
“Where does it lead? Teacher, just open your eyes — you’ll see it.”
Shen Ji’s heart sank for that Wonderland which never existed. “There are no eighteen levels. The hell you speak of may not exist at all.”
“I’ve never lied to you, teacher.”
“But you’ve hidden things from me.”
“Don’t drive me away, and I’ll tell you.” His neighbor’s true intent was clear, certain Shen Ji would agree.
Shen Ji stopped probing. “I refuse.”
___
T/N: This neighbour is scary…
Next chapter: Currently translating!
Translation status: 11/42 chapters
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