Reincarnated as a Scholar: But I only write Erotica-Chapter 6: Spark of Hope

The man slowly slid the door open, revealing a sight that made Lin Mao's breath stop for a moment. He stepped inside, his eyes widening in awe as he took in the view before him.

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It was as if he had entered a world on its own—a miniature ecosystem with its own sun, sky, and delicate wildlife.

Plum trees with bright pink blossoms stood tall, their petals swaying in the breeze. A crystal-clear pond sparkled under the sunlight, its surface rippling as fish swam beneath. Birds that Lin Mao had never seen hopped from branch to branch, their melodic chirps filling the air with serenity.

Beneath one of the plum trees, sitting in a lotus position, was an old man deep in meditation. His eyes were closed, his beard so long that it nearly touched the ground beneath. Dressed in a simple white robe, he exuded calm and commanding aura that seemed to blend seamlessly with the surrounding nature.

Lin Mao stood utterly mesmerized. "This," he whispered, "is like a painting come to life."

The old man's eyes opened slowly, revealing deep, knowing eyes that seemed to pierce straight through Lin Mao.

Without moving a single muscle, he spoke. "Lin Mao, do you know why you are here?"

Lin Mao's heart skipped a beat, feeling the weight of the question. He swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer.

"I... have no idea," he admitted. "But if this involves another staircase, I might rethink my life choices."

A faint, amused smile curved the old man's lips. His hands reached for his beard, brushing it gently as he spoke, his voice filled with emotion.

"Lin Mao," he began, his tone softer now, filled with emotion. "I took you from your parents when you were only eight years old. Had I not, you would have perished. Your parents could barely feed themselves—how could they have sustained you? I did everything in my power to raise you, to shelter you. And now, here you stand before me, grown into a fine young man."

Lin Mao listened quietly, but a sudden, sharp ache throbbed in his head. Unfamiliar memories flooded his mind—blurred faces, jumbled words, and emotions he couldn't grasp.

The pain was almost unbearable, but he fought to remain composed, unwilling to show any weakness.

"You were diligent in your studies," the old man continued. "Your mind shone with the potential to become a true master of philosophy. Your questions were sharp, your insights profound. But then..."

He sighed deeply; his voice tinged with bitterness. "Everything changed because of a young woman."

The words stung, as if the master had struck a deep, hidden wound. Lin Mao could feel the tension rise in his chest as the master's gaze sharpened.

"You let your heart become your undoing. Just because she refused to be your companion, you threw everything away. You allowed that rejection to poison your ambition, to cloud your mind."

Lin Mao shifted uncomfortably, his posture betraying the inner turmoil. The master, seeing through him, stroked his beard thoughtfully. He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the man standing beside Lin Mao.

"Ti Xhin," the old man said. "What happened to him?"

Ti Xhin bowed deeply before speaking. "Master, he claims to have forgotten his memories."

The old master's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but his expression remained unchanging. His eyes returned to Lin Mao, studying him with a piercing gaze.

"Is that true?" he asked, his voice calm yet filled with authority.

Lin Mao nodded slowly, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Master. I... I can't remember who I am, where I am, or anything."

The master studied him for a long moment before gesturing for Lin Mao to step closer. Lin Mao hesitated and with a deep breath he then took slow steps forward.

When he reached the old man, he knelt respectfully, his heart pounding in his chest.

The old man placed his wrinkled hands gently upon Lin Mao's forehead before closing his eyes. A heavy silence filled the air as the master's aura pulsed with calming energy, enveloping Lin Mao like a cocoon.

After a few tense moment, the old man's eyes fluttered open. "Lin Mao has truly lost his memories," he said. "There is nothing but fragmented pieces within his mind—disjointed, scattered, and unreachable."

Lin Mao's shoulders relaxed in relief, the tension easing from his body. "Thank god," he murmured.

But Ti Xhin, who had been watching the entire exchange with great attention, wasn't entirely convinced. "Master, how can such a thing happen out of nowhere? How could his memories simply vanish?"

The old master's eyes closed halfway, lost in deep thought. He shook his head slowly, his tone now distant.

"That is not of importance, Ti Xhin. What matters now is the path ahead. Take him to his room and help him regain what he has lost. Guide him back to the journey he once walked."

Ti Xhin opened his mouth as if to protest, but quickly closed it. "I will, Master," he replied, bowing respectfully.

Turning to Lin Mao, his strict demeanor finally softened. "Junior brother, follow me."

Lin Mao blinked, caught off guard by the term "Junior brother." A grin spread across his face as he followed Ti Xhin.

I really walked straight into a Chinese fantasy novel. But not gonna lie—being called 'junior brother' feels pretty damn good.

As they walked, Lin Mao's heart raced with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. He had no memory of the past, but the future—this strange future—was beginning to unfold before him, filled with endless possibilities. And for the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.