When I pressed the accelerator button for the first time, I thought I would rush out. As a result, my car just sighed softly, and the body tilted forward slightly like jelly, and then reluctantly began to roll. The wheels are not round, but two droplet-like objects that are deforming at any time. When they press the ground, the roof of my car will sway with gentle waves.

The world is composed of children’s paintings in the depths of memory. There are traces of crayons on the edge of the clouds, and the curve of the hillside seems to have been repeatedly modified by small hands. The branches of the trees grow just right, which just allows my car to gently wipe the leaves when leaping, taking away a few rays of colorful light. Gravity is a fickle partner here — sometimes I rush up the slope and stay in the air for a long time like slow motion, long so that I can clearly see the flowing rainbow lines released by the body; sometimes I just gently fall down the small steps, but the whole body will be exaggeratedly compressed and bounced up, like a real drop of water falling on the trampoline.

The most fascinating thing is those “unpractical” interactions. There was a huge sunflower on the roadside. I drove it and hit it. Instead of breaking it, it bent the flower plate and gently rubbed it on the roof of my car. The pollen fell like golden snowflakes. When passing through a puddle, my wheel did not splash, but sucked up the whole puddle and turned into a transparent water ring rotating around the car body, which lasted for three seconds before it slowly fell. The game does not reward these behaviors. It just looks at you with a smile and finds these — it turns out that happiness can be so aimless.

Obstacles are also soft. The spike traps look scary, but when my car crashes, they will shrink back first, and then slowly unfold again like a shy mimosa. Temporary spring mushrooms will always grow on the edge of the cliff. Although the elasticity is big and small, it will never make me really fall. Once I was stuck between two stakes, and the car body was lengthened into an incredible strip. When I was about to restart the checkpoint, the stakes moved to both sides shyly, making up a gap that could be passed. The world is quietly helping you in its own way.

As the journey deepened, my car learned a new softness. Press and hold the jump button, it will lengthen itself like a rubber band, and then eject an amazing distance; when rotating in the air, the car body will automatically become streamlined according to the direction of rotation. I found that I no longer thought about “how to pass”, but began to try “how to pass in a more beautiful way”. I played a certain section of the canyon seven times, not because of the difficulty, but because I wanted the car body to cross under three consecutive arches and maintain the same smooth fluctuation frequency, like singing a whole song without breakpoints.

When the sunset dyed the sky honey, I arrived at the center of the world. There is no end flag there, only a huge, translucent bubble. I gently touched it when I drove, and the bubble gently wrapped me and the car in it, and began to rise slowly. The forests, rivers, and temporary ramps I have built below are slowly shrinking into a page in the album. At the right height, the bubble burst with a “bang”, and the car and I landed lightly at the starting point, and the car body still had the bubble rainbow, which lasted for three seconds before it gradually faded.

I quit the game and walked to the window. There was a child playing with clay in the playground downstairs. He lengthened, flattened it, and kneaded it into a ball. I suddenly remembered the touch of the wheel when it first pressed over the rainbow road — the soft reality. _JellyCar Worlds_ does not tell a fairy tale. It turns itself into a fairy tale itself: a age that allows you to temporarily put down all hard rules and return to the age when all objects are still a little soft, a little elastic and a little unstable.

And in our world, we may also need such a moment — instead of paving all the roads, but allowing ourselves to drive a soft car occasionally and be gently rubbed on the top of our heads by a flower at a corner.