It was a rainy evening, and the school was nearly empty.
After class, I stayed behind to look for my lost notebook. My search led me to the storage room. As I pushed aside a pile of discarded chairs, I was stunned to find a hidden door.
Heart pounding, I reached out and grasped the cold handle. With a gentle twist—
Kachh.
The door creaks open, revealing a spiral staircase winding down into the darkness.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
As I reached the bottom, I realized this wasn’t my school anymore. Behind me, the door had already shut. In front of me stretched a wide corridor, its walls covered with posters and strange ancient symbols I couldn’t recognize. The air smelled of aged parchment and a faint metallic scent. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the rhythmic murmur of voices reciting words in unison.
I followed the sound and pushed open a wooden door. Inside, a man with a flowing beard and long robes stood at the front of the room, explaining the virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and integrity (The Hang Seng University of Hong Kong, n.d.). I gasped. This… this was Confucius?! Just then, the school bell rang. Students dressed in traditional robes rushed past me, hurrying home.
I cautiously stepped into Confucius’ class, thinking no one could see me. But then— His eyes look into mine. “You do not belong here,” he murmured. He could see me?! I forced an awkward smile. “Uh… sir, I think I might be a little lost.” Confucius looked at me for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “You are not the first outsider to come here… but you must leave immediately.” “Why?” I asked. “Those who wander here out of curiosity… are never allowed to leave,” he said gravely. “Everything about you is different with us. They will know.”
I hurried, asking if anyone had spare clothes I could borrow, but every person stared at me with fear and suspicion, as if I were some kind of monster.
Just when I was beginning to panic, a girl tugged gently at my sleeve.
“Follow me,” she whispered.
She led me into a small hut and handed me a simple linen outfit.
“Put this on,” she said.
“Thank you!” I quickly changed, finally blending in—at least a little.
Now dressed in period-appropriate clothes, I wandered through the bustling streets. Stalls lined the roads, offering delicious street food, while some elderly men sat around playing board games.
Yet, people still turned to stare at me.
Was I really that good-looking? I think
I reached into my wallet and pulled out the last RM10 I had, hoping to buy something to eat before figuring out how to get back.
But no one would accept my money. They all insisted they had no change for it.
That’s when I realized the street vendor selling noodles only charged 50 sen! Before I could think any further, a group of men suddenly rushed toward me.
The noodles vendor’s eyes widened. “Run! They’re coming for you!”
And then I realise—my hair.
My pink hair!
I had been recognized. I didn’t belong here.
Panic surged through me as I bolted back toward the school, desperately searching for the staircase.
“Where is it?! Where is it?!”
Then—I saw it.
The familiar door stood there, waiting.
Without hesitation, I shoved it open and stumbled inside, sprinting up the spiraling steps as fast as I could.
I burst through the doorway, back into the storage room, and slammed the door shut behind me.
Were they still chasing me? Would they come through, too?
Breathless and trembling, I stacked the chairs back against the door, piling them as high as I could to barricade it.
After class, I stayed behind to look for my lost notebook. My search led me to the storage room. As I pushed aside a pile of discarded chairs, I was stunned to find a hidden door.
Heart pounding, I reached out and grasped the cold handle. With a gentle twist—
Kachh.
The door creaks open, revealing a spiral staircase winding down into the darkness.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
As I reached the bottom, I realized this wasn’t my school anymore. Behind me, the door had already shut. In front of me stretched a wide corridor, its walls covered with posters and strange ancient symbols I couldn’t recognize. The air smelled of aged parchment and a faint metallic scent. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the rhythmic murmur of voices reciting words in unison.
I followed the sound and pushed open a wooden door. Inside, a man with a flowing beard and long robes stood at the front of the room, explaining the virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and integrity (The Hang Seng University of Hong Kong, n.d.). I gasped. This… this was Confucius?! Just then, the school bell rang. Students dressed in traditional robes rushed past me, hurrying home.
I cautiously stepped into Confucius’ class, thinking no one could see me. But then— His eyes look into mine. “You do not belong here,” he murmured. He could see me?! I forced an awkward smile. “Uh… sir, I think I might be a little lost.” Confucius looked at me for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “You are not the first outsider to come here… but you must leave immediately.” “Why?” I asked. “Those who wander here out of curiosity… are never allowed to leave,” he said gravely. “Everything about you is different with us. They will know.”
I hurried, asking if anyone had spare clothes I could borrow, but every person stared at me with fear and suspicion, as if I were some kind of monster.
Just when I was beginning to panic, a girl tugged gently at my sleeve.
“Follow me,” she whispered.
She led me into a small hut and handed me a simple linen outfit.
“Put this on,” she said.
“Thank you!” I quickly changed, finally blending in—at least a little.
Now dressed in period-appropriate clothes, I wandered through the bustling streets. Stalls lined the roads, offering delicious street food, while some elderly men sat around playing board games.
Yet, people still turned to stare at me.
Was I really that good-looking? I think
I reached into my wallet and pulled out the last RM10 I had, hoping to buy something to eat before figuring out how to get back.
But no one would accept my money. They all insisted they had no change for it.
That’s when I realized the street vendor selling noodles only charged 50 sen! Before I could think any further, a group of men suddenly rushed toward me.
The noodles vendor’s eyes widened. “Run! They’re coming for you!”
And then I realise—my hair.
My pink hair!
I had been recognized. I didn’t belong here.
Panic surged through me as I bolted back toward the school, desperately searching for the staircase.
“Where is it?! Where is it?!”
Then—I saw it.
The familiar door stood there, waiting.
Without hesitation, I shoved it open and stumbled inside, sprinting up the spiraling steps as fast as I could.
I burst through the doorway, back into the storage room, and slammed the door shut behind me.
Were they still chasing me? Would they come through, too?
Breathless and trembling, I stacked the chairs back against the door, piling them as high as I could to barricade it.
This experience taught me the power of curiosity and the danger of stepping into the unknown unprepared. While curiosity leads to discovery, it also comes with risks. I learned that some mysteries are better left untouched, and sometimes, blending in is the key to survival. Most importantly, I realized how precious my own world is—no matter how intriguing another place may seem, home will always be the safest place to return to.
Reference:
The Hang Seng University of Hong Kong. (n.d.). Junzi and Its Five Virtues. https://junzi.hsu.edu.hk/en/junzi-and-its-five-virtues/
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