Grotesqueries of the Old Domain

Chapter 42: Sleep

ChatGPT said:

He lay in the nest of junk that was Song Jianguo’s makeshift bed, the light of fireflies flickering and illuminating his utterly bewildered face.

“Could you please say that again? I still didn’t quite catch it.”

“I’ve already said it several times—how come you still don’t understand? Is your comprehension really that poor?” Zhang Wenda asked with exasperation.

He had already explained to Song Jianguo what had happened earlier, yet the other, perhaps stubbornly dense, still could not grasp it.

“But you said that in the adult world I’m a cat—but I clearly look like a person!” Song Jianguo replied with furrowed brows.

“And what about those tall buildings built by people, those weird rules and monsters? How is this not just something you’re making up? Is the adult world really as you describe? I have a hard time believing it!”

Zhang Wenda sighed, turned his head aside, and lay on his side. “Fine—if you don’t believe me, just don’t. Talking to you is exhausting.”

Song Jianguo looked at Zhang Wenda doubtfully, then strode away.

Yet Zhang Wenda was far from asleep; in his mind, the events he’d just experienced still played over and over, leaving him unsettled.

So many strange things had happened in the adult world that even now, long afterward, he couldn’t fully accept them.

At first, he thought he had returned to his childhood, but after what happened at the Youth Center, he realized he had been mistaken.

Then he believed he had entered some bizarre parallel old-world blending many eras—but the adult world shattered his worldview once more.

It seemed he would never truly understand this world, as if it shifted every instant.

Whenever he thought he had it figured out, something even more unexpected would emerge.

But now, compared to the uncanny perspective, weird people, and bizarre architecture, the concretized rules that kept hurting him seemed trivial.

He had once believed that the punishments inflicted by these rules were curses of this weird world, unstoppable cosmic laws.

But when he saw that scythe-wielding monster, he abruptly understood that things were not as he had thought.

All the rule-based punishments he received were actually because a monster was attacking him.

Just as adults couldn’t see the Youth Center or the library, children couldn’t see certain things in the adult world—such as the monster assaulting him.

From his current perspective, the monster was invisible, so all its attacks felt like supernatural rule-based scare stories.

After a while, Zhang Wenda felt someone kicking his leg and opened his eyes to find Song Jianguo standing nearby, one hand on a hip.

“Hey, so what do you plan to do next?”

Zhang Wenda looked at her sideways. “What else? Since I know the monster is attacking me, I need to figure out how to deal with it.”

On hearing that, Song Jianguo’s eyes widened, and she pointed at her nose with her finger. “Deal with a monster in the adult world?! You’re not actually expecting me to help too, are you?!”

Zhang Wenda slowly closed his eyes. “You can’t help with this. You lack the adult perspective—you can’t even see it, so how could you possibly deal with it?”

“Still, that’s good—that’s good.” At the reassurance that it had nothing to do with her, Song Jianguo’s face lit up. She strode to a corner and softly blew on her finger.

Amid occasional meows, scattered black cats immediately gathered around her, forming a furry blanket atop her.

“Remember to continue exterminating pests tomorrow,” Zhang Wenda’s voice drifted softly.

At that, Song Jianguo’s good mood vanished. “But I said I’d help at the library tomorrow and take a break for the day!”

“Tomorrow’s Tuesday—what break? Who among corporate drones is entitled to take Tuesday off?”

“Ugh, this is so annoying!” Song Jianguo grumbled, turning over and covering her head with the cat blanket in frustration.

Zhang Wenda contemplated silently: if Song Jianguo continued earning at this pace, in two days he could exchange for a lowest-tier special ability to feed Red Core.

With Song Jianguo’s exertions, even without doing much, his strength could steadily increase.

But he knew that still wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. A ten‑yuan ability would only raise Red Core slightly, but relying on Red Core alone, it could never contend with his opponent.

From his past experiences, he judged that the creature could appear beside him in an instant—its speed must be astonishing.

Moreover, its size was at least three times his, so it must possess far greater strength and formidable combat prowess.

Even disregarding whether, after boosting Red Core several more times, he could be an equal match, more importantly, he wasn’t sure whether he could still use Red Core’s power in the adult perspective.

He hadn’t forgotten that his sturdy flashlight, which in adult perspective was only as thin as a laser pointer in a child’s hand.

What if in the adult world he couldn’t wield a lightsaber? He certainly couldn’t resort to jabbing the creature’s eyes with a laser pointer, could he?

ChatGPT said:

“For that world, I still understand far too little,” Zhang Wenda muttered as he reached out to touch the now-empty spot on his arm where Yellow Core had once been.

“I must strengthen myself—build enough power before going after that monster again, otherwise if I break ties with it completely, it might really kill me.”

Zhang Wenda hadn’t forgotten—that was the adult world, and the adult world was always crueler than the world of children.

After dawdling for so long, Zhang Wenda felt somewhat tired. “Sleep first—tomorrow I’ll check on Yellow Core’s recovery, and ask Ouyang if there are other ways to improve my abilities.”

He yawned and lay down again, preparing to sleep, but no matter how he turned, something felt off.

Eventually, he sat up to find something to cover himself with, but in Song Jianguo’s makeshift nest, apart from a few crude cat toys, there was nothing else.

He glanced around and reached for Song Jianguo’s cat blanket. “Hey, don’t be so selfish—share some cats with me.”

Little claws, each showing their nails, reached out from the cat blanket and pushed Zhang Wenda’s hand away.

“I order you to give me half the cats,” Zhang Wenda declared, only to be surprised that a sleeping Song Jianguo could ignore his commands—something he hadn’t expected.

Zhang Wenda gave up and lay back down on the ground, took off his school uniform to use as a pillow, and closed his eyes once more.

He truly was exhausted, and despite the conditions, sleepiness soon crept in.

In a haze between waking and sleeping, he felt something furry burrow into his arms.