Chapter 8: Don’t Open Doors Recklessly
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Yu Sheng stepped into the kitchen and let the door close gently behind him. He turned on the range hood, and its steady, humming noise filled the small room. Strangely enough, this sound, along with the thin kitchen door, made him feel calmer, as though these simple walls and machines could keep all the strange madness of this world at bay. Here, he could almost pretend that he was back in his true home, safe and sound, and not in this strange “Boundary City” where everything felt off.
The kitchen looked like the one he remembered from his old life, and he’d done his best to arrange it in a familiar way ever since he arrived here. Whenever he started cooking, he imagined that he’d never opened that front door two months ago, never stepped out into a city filled with eerie shadows and unsettling sights. Sometimes, as he chopped vegetables or stirred the pot, he allowed himself to dream that if he peeked out the window, he’d see his old street bathed in warm, golden light. Maybe there’d be a gentle sunset dripping orange light down the building walls, and everything would be perfectly normal.
But the reality outside was always a painful reminder. Instead of the streets he knew, all he ever found were empty fields, ragged shacks, and messy utility poles. And as for the sky, it was never truly comforting—either painfully bright or crushingly dark. No gentle evening glow, no soft twilight.
With a sigh, Yu Sheng pulled down the blinds, cutting off the dismal view outside. He focused on washing his vegetables, heating the pan, and tossing in a handful of scallions. The comforting sizzle helped him relax. From the other room, the faint sound of the television drifted in. It was oddly reassuring that at least things like TV and phones existed here. When Yu Sheng first arrived in Boundary City, he had learned about this strange world mostly through television shows and news reports on his phone. Even now, he relied on them to make sense of it all.
Suddenly, a voice cut through his thoughts. “Yu Sheng! The TV’s too quiet! Turn up the volume, pretty please!”
It was Irene, shouting from the other room. Yu Sheng nearly let the spatula slip from his hand. He’d almost forgotten about her presence. Back in his old life, cooking meant peace and quiet. Now he had a chatty girl in a painting calling out demands. Wonderful.
“Hold on!” he called back, a bit annoyed. He grumbled to himself, “She’s getting comfortable way too quickly.”
Still, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He supposed that a little noise might make this big, empty house feel more alive. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
After finishing his cooking, Yu Sheng carried his steaming dishes out to the dining table. He turned the TV’s volume up a little, then settled down in a chair with his back to the screen. Irene’s painting faced him, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t the type to watch TV while eating, but Irene seemed keen on it, and he supposed this was a small kindness he could offer. Besides, she was stuck in that frame—having something to watch might cheer her up.
Irene, clutching her teddy bear, peeked over at the food on the table. He caught her glancing from the dishes to the TV and back again. “Looks pretty good…” she said softly.
“It’s just simple home cooking,” Yu Sheng replied, stirring his rice with his chopsticks. “I enjoy it. Helps me relax.”
“Oh,” said Irene, and for a while she watched the TV quietly. But as Yu Sheng began eating, she couldn’t help herself. She craned her neck toward the table, clearly longing for a taste. At last, she asked, “So, I’m just supposed to sit here watching you eat? I don’t get to try any of it?”
Yu Sheng paused, lifting an eyebrow at her. He waved his chopsticks in front of her painting and asked mockingly, “Want to take a bite?”
Irene shot him a glare, then looked away, sulking. He sighed and got up, going to fetch an extra bowl from the kitchen. He scooped some of his food into it and placed it on the table directly in front of her frame, alongside an extra pair of chopsticks. “There,” he said. “You can pretend. Obviously, I’ll have to eat it later—can’t waste food—but at least now you can imagine you’re having some.”
She studied the small offering carefully. Then, with a half-smile, Irene stepped closer within her painted world, moving toward the frame’s edge. Her face now took up a large part of the painting as she leaned in to “join” the meal. “Hmph, at least you’re more considerate than I expected,” she said, sounding a bit pleased.
Yu Sheng mumbled a response and went back to his meal. But when he looked up, he realized something odd about the scene before him. Irene’s painted face hovered above the bowl he’d set out, and the painting against the wall gave the strange impression of… well, a memorial portrait, with a dish of food placed in front of it. The thought sent a chill up his spine.
He clenched his jaw to keep from laughing out loud at the bizarre sight. He certainly didn’t want Irene catching on to what he was thinking. She’d surely say something nasty if he dared mention how it looked. Better to keep his mouth shut and concentrate on his dinner, pretending nothing was wrong.
Thanks to that awkward scene, the meal felt strangely like a solemn ceremony. He tried to finish quickly. Once he was done, Yu Sheng wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood. He cleared Irene’s “offering” away and took all the dishes to the sink. He’d wash them tomorrow—his back still ached, and he wasn’t about to make it worse by bending over the sink tonight.
However, there was one chore he couldn’t skip: the kitchen trash. Leaving it overnight would invite terrible smells. Despite the pain in his back, he tied the garbage bag and headed toward the front door.
Noticing him moving about, Irene glanced away from the TV. “Where are you going this late?” she called, sounding suddenly wary.
Yu Sheng rolled his eyes. “Do I have to tell you every detail of what I do in my own house?” he snapped. He lifted the trash bag for her to see. “I’m just taking out the garbage.”
Irene relaxed and turned back to the TV. “Oh, okay,” she said, her voice less worried now. “Hurry back, though, will you? This place is big and creepy, and if some burglar shows up, I don’t want to be alone.”
Yu Sheng snorted. If a burglar dared break in and found a talking doll in a painting, the poor thief would be the one needing help. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself. Pulling on his shoes, he reached for the door.
As he touched the doorknob, a flicker of memory passed through his mind—two months ago, on a perfectly normal morning, he had opened his front door and found himself in a bizarre world. Now he was doing it again, going outside in the middle of this strange existence he’d been forced into.
He shook his head to clear the thought, then twisted the knob and stepped through the doorway.
Crunch. A sharp, snapping sound cut through the night air. Yu Sheng froze, blinking into the darkness. A rancid, metallic smell drifted on the cold wind, and the chill bit through his clothes. It took him a few moments to adjust, to realize what he was seeing.
All around him were piles of rubble. Far off, a dark forest spread its tangled branches, and on either side, towering mountains pressed in, like silent, watching giants. The place was deathly still and deeply unsettling.
He turned slowly to look back at the door he’d come through. But where was the house? Instead of sturdy walls and a familiar kitchen door, he saw crumbling bricks and broken, half-rotten wooden beams. The remains of an old temple lay scattered at his feet. There was no sign of his quiet dining room, no sign of his cozy kitchen. Just a broken doorway, half a door dangling uselessly, and a few stones piled up in what might have been a foundation long ago.
Yu Sheng’s heart sank. “Where on earth…?” he whispered to himself.
In that moment, he understood that opening doors in this world could lead you almost anywhere. Just as he’d crossed into Boundary City two months ago, he had now stumbled into another realm, perhaps even stranger and more dangerous than before.
He had no idea where he was, but it certainly wasn’t a modern city. If Boundary City was eerie but manageable, this place looked downright hostile—an empty wilderness where anything could lurk. Wolves, ghosts, bandits, or worse could be hiding in that forest. And he stood there, holding a bag of kitchen trash, completely unprepared.
Yu Sheng cursed under his breath. Just when he thought he’d found some stability, he’d gotten himself into an even bigger mess.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind, bright and clear, as if carried from the other world by a faint thread:
“Yu Sheng! The TV’s lost its signal! When are you coming back?”