A person's life has two long and distant vacations, one is childhood, and the other is love.
·-- Wu Changxing.
The content of this novel is basically the stories I used to tell my younger sister. She has grown up now and has forgotten the past stories.
For a child's aesthetic, the most important aspect of a story is not the plot, but various novel things, onomatopoeia. The plot and profound meaning are what adults care about.
This story should be considered as a collaborative creation between her and me. It was around my high school years when I spontaneously narrated stories to her and improvised the next sentence based on her reactions. Sometimes, when her eyes drifted away, I knew it had become boring and needed something that children would enjoy. This so-called novel, consisting of five chapters, was sculpted under her picky aesthetic.
Many adults have forgotten the picky and unique aesthetic of children and gradually started to focus more on the story, rationality, and logic. Fortunately, I encountered childhood during my youth, and I am not far from childhood myself, so I can observe and reflect on this difference.
Andersen's Fairy Tales and Grimms' Fairy Tales are meant for adults. Only stories like the ones I tell, excellent stories like Alice in Wonderland, are truly loved by children.
In the sixth grade, when my childhood was drawing to an end, I once wrote a little piece roughly titled: Nineteen Things Adults Don't Know, But We Actually Do. They were observations made with my own eyes, statements born of my shock at adults' ignorance back then. But more than a decade has passed, and I myself have almost forgotten those nineteen things that were once so important to me.
Luckily, however, I observed my younger sister. As the eldest brother acting like a father, I watched her grow from the size of a shoebox to gradually unfurling into her own life. I also had the chance to step back into childhood in advance to experience life, instead of waiting to do so until I had children of my own.
This five-chapter novel was compiled into written form around my college years from an oral version, with the order of two chapters rearranged. Regrettably, the text for the final two chapters remained in a notebook upon graduation and was later lost. Perhaps one day I'll have the chance to rewrite them, though sadly, there won't be an eight- or nine-year-old child to proofread them for me.
Recently, when I read and organized it again, I once again felt regretful for not doing enough. During the process of oral narration to text organization, I happened to be in that immature but eager to appear mature stage at the age of eighteen or nineteen. Therefore, I was not very faithful to the original text, but added many embellishments. Now I can clearly feel a little excessive.
But I won't change it anymore. This is my past. When taking the first step, clumsiness was sincere, and there is no need to deplete it anymore. I believe creators understand this reason.
This is the feeling of my youth combined with my sister's childhood. Please hold onto it.
Prologue
The little white dove sang, "Take the bride home, quick, take the bride home, the true bride sits by your side!" Having sung, the dove flew forward and perched on Cinderella's right shoulder. Cinderella and the prince walked toward the palace together, and lived happily ever after.
When the white snow fell upon the hazel tree the following year, Cinderella had become the queen of this land and given birth to a daughter. The new princess was named Alice. Alice was a lively and kind-hearted little girl who loved an unfettered life, yet there were too many rules in the palace and nothing was permitted.
Alice liked to sing at night like a nightingale, but the adults found it very noisy. Alice wanted to learn from the gecko how to stick to the wall, but she was always respectfully asked down by the guards patrolling the city walls, telling her to go back to her room. Alice's biggest wish was to play like the pigeons in the palace courtyard, to go to places that others couldn't reach, or to fly with the feathers of pigeons in the wind.
Even so, Alice remained very happy all the same. Delights were as light and rare as dove feathers drifting in the air, yet she could always catch sight of their traces with a casual glance, spending an entire afternoon clasping them into her palms and stowing them away in her box. The Queen Mother had once told Alice about the world outside: "It is bigger than a thousand palaces. In autumn, a thousand dandelions spread their umbrellas and rush into the sky, lit by over a thousand fireflies. A thousand doves take their young to move to warmer places, and the feathers stirred up and fluttering down in the air fall as thick as snow. Flake upon soft flake they settle, resting on the earth as white as snow—whiter than the skin of Snow White. The ground is carpeted with a thousand daylilies, their fragrance carrying a hundred miles with the gentle breeze, and whoever smells this pure scent will be free from sorrow for the rest of their days..."
Alice noted these words down on the back of her collection box. Indeed, the outside world was so vast, holding boundless, astonishing wonders. If only she could go play in that broad, free world one day, how many joys would be gathered—or perhaps there would be no need to collect joy at all, for each day would bring brand new wonders that a lifetime could never finish collecting. When she became an old lady one day, she would write down all the joys of her life and pass them on to other young princesses.
When dove feathers drifted in the air, watching them on horseback at three in the afternoon was the loveliest sight. When the spring rains drizzled on and on, keeping one from playing outside, one could pass the time by watching the mushrooms in the backyard. But autumn was the finest season of all; when the autumn wind blew, standing beneath the trees, countless leaves fluttering down and swirling back up seemed to stretch every single second longer.
Yet on this day, Alice felt a little stifled. The afternoon drowsiness felt unusually long, and the flowers outside the door seemed especially listless. Just then, a white butterfly landed by the table, catching Alice's daydreaming eye. What did the white butterfly wish to tell her? Thinking this, Alice couldn't help following the white butterfly outside. The white butterfly fluttered its wings gracefully, passed through the willow shade, and rested upon a pink flower in the garden. To her amazement, that pink flower turned into a pink cake, looking utterly tempting and delicate as a blossom.
For some reason, Alice really wanted to eat this cake, as if there was a hint that by eating this cake, she could go to a different world. Alice picked up the cake and took a small bite. At that moment, Alice noticed that things around her were changing. Sunflowers suddenly became as tall as windmills, roses were bigger than cabbages, and the small grass around her became as thick as saplings. The towering tree in front of her turned out to be the small oak sapling she planted a few days ago. Why did this happen? Did the world become bigger, or did she become smaller?
Just then, Alice noticed a large mouse sitting under the oak sapling, as big as a pig. It looked like a silver fox hamster. Alice bravely walked up to it, and the hamster held its head still, as if thinking or sleeping. Alice waited for a long time, but it didn't notice her. She had to ask, "Respected Mr. Silver Fox Hamster, who are you? Why do you live here? What are you doing in my garden? There is nothing to eat here except for that cake." Saying this, Alice turned around to look for the cake, but it was gone. The hamster seemed to hear Alice's question, nodded thoughtfully, and then changed hands to hold its head, continuing to contemplate.
The hamster noticed the mood of the noble princess in front of it and started speaking.
"Language is a trap, a bottomless pit. Once I start speaking, I will fall into this cage."
"I don't understand," Alice said. Yet along with the hamster's words, a deep hole actually opened in the ground. Alice asked in astonishment, "Did this hole appear just because you spoke? I've never seen anything so strange!"
"You just asked who I am and what I'm doing. If I want to answer that question, I must jump into this hole to answer you. But once I jump into the hole, I become unable to answer your question again. In other words, before I discuss everything in the world, I must first determine what can be discussed. Yet discussing cannot resolve the question, and explaining cannot make it clear. In short, well, so, therefore, I think that since the answer cannot be spoken, the question does not exist."
"The answer cannot be spoken... so the question does not exist? That's too complicated. What you say is so strange, I can't understand it. Well, can you take me outside to play? If you can take me out, I won't ask what you're secretly doing in my garden."
"That's fine, this mouse hole leads to all destinations. Let's go!"
Before Alice could react, it turned around without hesitation and jumped into the hole. Alice shouted from behind, "Hey!" But looking into the hole, it was already pitch black, with nothing left except for Alice's own echo.
Alice thought for a moment and, feeling defiant, also jumped into the hole. Thus, the descent began. Falling, falling, Alice looked down, wanting to know where she would fall. But it was too dark below, and she couldn't see anything. So she looked at the well wall around her, which had some oil paintings hanging on it, as well as some reliefs and various maps.
"All right, fall then, fall, just keep falling downward," Alice thought to herself. "Will I fall to my death the very first time I leave home?"
Falling, falling, falling—would she really never reach the bottom? Besides falling, there was nothing else to do. Alice began to feel rather bored and weary again. "So right now, do I want to fall to the bottom of the well, or do I not want to fall to the bottom? That is quite a conundrum. And why did the hamster say this leads to the world outside?" Alice couldn't understand these questions, so she rolled her eyes around to look everywhere. There were far too many words, paintings, reliefs, and cupboards on all sides; most things flew past before she had time to look. But Alice noticed a thin silver line on the well wall shifting in shape as she fell, as if some regular pattern were continuously emerging. Alice looked at it again and again, and finally saw what it was: it was a string of German letters, arranged in this order:
Close
Big
Now
—From
The
Hamster
"So the hamster really does know German," Alice thought, and then closed her eyes. Another strange thing happened: upon closing her eyes, she discovered that she was no longer falling, and she seemed still able to see her surroundings. "What about opening my eyes, then?" Alice tried opening her eyes, and the falling resumed. Within a few minutes, Alice quickly learned to control her falling speed by blinking, enabling herself to move downward freely inside the well. "But what's the use of this? In the end, I still have to fall down, and once I fall down, I'll never be able to come back up." At this thought, Alice felt a bit disheartened. She brought herself to a stop beside a cupboard and called down loudly, "Mr. Hamster, where are you?" The echo still took a long time to return, but the depths of the well remained dark and silent.
Alice glanced to the side and discovered the hamster sitting on a cupboard, head bowed in deep thought. The thin silver line also stopped right where it was drawn. Alice hurried over and asked the hamster, "Mr. Hamster, how do we get out through the well?"
The hamster raised its head, held up a paw, and said, "First, remember that after we go out, we still have to come back. No matter where you go, in the end, you must return to this well. Ultimately, you still have to face the problem of the well on your own."
"After returning, do I still have to keep falling?"
"We fall at every moment; this is unavoidable..."
"Then let's leave here first! It's too cramped, and I feel very uncomfortable," Alice interrupted the hamster.
The hamster pulled two blackboard erasers out of the cupboard, then fished out a box of colored chalk from behind its back, and asked Alice, "Can you draw?"
Alice was a bit puzzled. "Draw? Draw here? I've only learned line drawings. I can't understand those complicated, meticulous paintings, so I only learned line drawings."
"Line drawings are enough. In a moment, we'll erase this cupboard, you draw a door, and we can get out."
With that, the hamster shut the cupboard door and had Alice step back a few paces to stand diagonally beside it. The hamster said, "Do as I do: close your left eye, keep your right eye open, pick up the eraser, straighten your arm, and align your line of sight with your arm. When your sight and arm touch the cupboard at the same time, you can erase it. Wherever our sight can reach, we can erase it away."
Alice obediently stood to the side and followed its instructions. Sure enough, as yellow powder rustled down, the side corner of the cupboard turned into a pitch-black expanse. "Mr. Hamster, you're amazing!" Alice marveled. The hamster merely waved its paws briskly, leaping up and down with all its might to erase the cupboard, paying no heed to Alice's praise.
Amidst the swirling grayish-yellow powder, the two of them finally wiped the cupboard clean. Alice looked at the powder-covered hamster and chuckled, "Mr. Silver-Fox Hamster, not to make fun of you, but you've turned completely into a Golden-Fox Hamster now." The hamster bristled the fur on its neck, gave itself a shake, and said, "Hurry up and draw. After drawing the door, don't forget to draw the scenery outside as well. Otherwise, once we go out, it'll be nothing but yellow sand and white earth, which is very dangerous."
Alice picked up a piece of white chalk first and, with a flick of her hand, drew an arched line. "That's the door. But what should I draw for the scenery?" As she spoke, she drew a few overlapping large wavy lines inside the door. "Let these be a few great mountains. It still seems to be missing something." With a few more long, small wavy lines: "Let this be a river. Well, that'll do. Mr. Hamster, what do you think?"
The hamster clearly thought the scenery Alice drew was not very pretty, but there was no way to salvage such line drawings. It rummaged through a nearby cupboard, pulled out a sticker of a horse, stuck it onto the line drawing before them, and said, "Close your eyes and step through the door, and you'll be outside. Ride this horse across the river to wherever you want to go. I will stay in the well alone and wait for your return." Having said that, it sat down on the spot again, propped up its head, and fell into deep thought.
Alice knew that once it started contemplating, it wouldn't stop. She had to go on her own. "Maybe I made the scenery look ugly," she thought. Closing her eyes, she stepped through the door with one foot.