The Lost Sea

The boundless fog outside the window churns, so dense that it seems as though the entire world has vanished beyond its edge. Only the faint, ambiguous daylight penetrates the fog, casting a half-lit, half-dark ambiance in the quiet room.

In the slightly disheveled single apartment, Zhou Ming hunches over his desk, shoving aside the clutter with a rough motion. He looks exhausted as he scribbles away in his journal:

“Day 7, and nothing has changed. The fog continues to envelop everything outside the window, and the windows have been sealed by an unknown force… The entire room feels like it’s been ‘cast’ into some abnormal space…

“I can't contact the outside world, and there’s no water or electricity, but the light remains on, and the computer still functions—even though I’ve unplugged it…”

A faint sound of wind seems to come from the direction of the window. Zhou Ming, engrossed in his writing, suddenly looks up with a glimmer of hope in his weary eyes. However, he quickly realizes it’s merely an illusion. Outside the window, the same thick, white fog persists, a lifeless world coldly enveloping his small, isolated space.

His gaze drifts to the windowsill, where discarded tools like a wrench and hammer lie in disarray. These were his attempts to escape over the past few days, now merely mocking his futile efforts as they quietly sit there.

After a few moments, Zhou Ming’s expression returns to calm. With this eerie calm, he looks down and resumes his writing:

“I’m trapped, completely at a loss. Over the past few days, I’ve even tried dismantling the roof, walls, and floor, but despite using all my strength, I couldn’t leave a single mark on the walls. The room has become like… like a box ‘cast’ with space itself, with no way out…

“Except for that door.

“But what lies beyond that door… is even stranger.”

Zhou Ming pauses again, slowly examining his recent entries. He flips through the pages of his journal, seeing the oppressive language, meaningless ramblings, frustrated doodles, and cold jokes he forced himself to write to relax.

He questions the significance of these writings, unsure who might read them in the future. He wasn't accustomed to keeping a journal—being a high school teacher with little spare time, he rarely engaged in such activities.

But now, whether he likes it or not, he has plenty of time.

After waking up, he found himself trapped in his own room.

Outside the window is the unending fog, so dense that nothing else is visible. The entire world seems to have lost the cycle of day and night, with a constant, dim light filling the room. The windows are locked, the power and water are cut off, and there is no phone signal. No matter how much noise he makes, no help comes from outside.

It feels like a bizarre nightmare where everything defies natural laws, but Zhou Ming has exhausted every method to confirm one thing: this is neither an illusion nor a dream, but a world that has ceased to be normal, with only a temporarily sane self remaining.

He takes a deep breath and his gaze falls on the only door at the end of the room.

A plain, cheap white door, still adorned with a calendar he forgot to replace since last year, the doorknob polished from frequent use, and a slightly askew door mat.

The door can be opened.

If this enclosed and distorted room is like a cage, the most cruel part is that it retains a door that can be opened at any time, constantly tempting the prisoner to leave—yet what lies beyond that door is not the “outside” Zhou Ming desires.

There is no familiar corridor, no sunlit streets or lively crowds, no trace of what he knows.

Instead, there is only an unfamiliar and unsettling foreign land, and “beyond” that door is also an inescapable predicament.

But Zhou Ming knows that he has little time to hesitate and that the so-called “choice” has never truly existed.

His food supplies are limited, with only a quarter of a few bottles of water remaining. He has tried every means of escape and rescue in this closed room, and now the only option is to prepare himself to seek a sliver of hope beyond the door.

Perhaps he can also uncover the reason behind this bizarre and supernatural situation.

Zhou Ming takes a deep breath and writes the final lines in his journal: “...But regardless, the only choice left is to go through the door. At least on that strange ship, I might find some food, and the exploration and preparation I’ve done over the past few days should help me survive there… though my preparations are quite limited.

“Lastly, to any future readers, if I don’t return and one day someone does open this room and reads this journal, please don’t dismiss what I’ve written as a ridiculous story—it really happened. Despite being eerie, there was indeed a person named Zhou Ming trapped in a bizarre and supernatural anomaly.

“I’ve done my best to describe the strange phenomena I’ve encountered and all my efforts to escape. If there are any ‘later readers,’ please remember my name and that all of this really happened.”

Zhou Ming closes the journal, tosses the pen into the nearby pen holder, and slowly stands up from the desk.

It’s time to leave, before he is completely trapped and doomed.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he doesn’t immediately head toward the door leading to the “outside,” but instead walks straight to his bed.

He needs to be in the best possible condition to face the “foreign land” on the other side of the door—and right now, his mental state is far from ideal.

He doesn’t know if he will be able to sleep, but even forcing himself to lie down and clear his mind is better than heading into the unknown while mentally exhausted.

Eight hours later, Zhou Ming opens his eyes.

The fog outside remains as chaotic and oppressive, with a dim, stifling light filling the room.

Ignoring the outside, Zhou Ming retrieves some food from his dwindling supplies, eating until he is about 80% full. He then goes to the dressing mirror in the corner of the room.

The man in the mirror looks disheveled, his hair messy and his appearance rough, lacking any notable presence. Yet Zhou Ming stares at his reflection as if to imprint this image permanently in his mind.

He gazes at the mirror for several minutes, then speaks softly to his reflection as if addressing the person within: “Your name is Zhou Ming. At least here, you are Zhou Ming. Always remember that.”

After this, he turns and leaves.

Standing before the familiar door, Zhou Ming takes a deep breath and places his hand on the doorknob.

He carries no additional items, not even food or protective gear, a lesson learned from previous “explorations”—nothing can be brought through the door except himself.

In fact, he even questions whether this “self” is entirely certain because…

Zhou Ming turns the knob, pushes open the door, and is met with a writhing, expanding, and contracting gray-black mist like a curtain. Through the shifting mist, he seems to hear the sound of waves crashing.

Stepping through the mist, a slightly salty sea breeze greets him, the previously ethereal sound of waves becomes real, and he feels a slight rocking sensation underfoot. After a brief moment of dizziness, Zhou Ming opens his eyes to find himself on a spacious wooden deck, under towering masts and dark, ominous clouds, with a seemingly endless, gently undulating sea beyond the ship’s railing.

Looking down, he sees a stronger body than he remembers, dressed in a finely crafted, unfamiliar captain’s uniform, with large, rugged hands gripping an elegantly crafted black flintlock pistol.

Yes, even his “self” is now in question.

(Mother of God! I’m back!)

Here’s the English translation of the passage:

---

This was not the first time Zhou Ming had crossed this door to arrive on the "other side."

Since a few days ago, when Zhou Ming woke up to find himself trapped in his room by some kind of "phenomenon," with eerie mist obscuring the entire world, he had discovered this strange place on the other side of the door.

After all, that door was now the only exit from his "room."

He still remembered the confusion and helplessness he felt the first time he opened the door and saw the deck, and the shock and panic when he first looked down and saw he had a new body. However, since then, in his quest to find a breakthrough, he had bravely conducted several successful explorations on "this side." Although he still did not understand what exactly had happened to his body or the nature of the bizarre ship that appeared outside his "room," he had at least gained some experience and h