The man slid the door open, and Lin Mao stepped inside. His jaw dropped, and he stopped breathing for a moment as his eyes took in the sight before him.
It was as if he had walked into a world of its own. A small ecosystem with its own sun, own sky, and own small wildlife.
Plum trees with bright pink blossoms stood tall, their petals swaying in the air. A crystal-clear pond reflected the soft 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 peacefulness.
Underneath one of the plum trees sat an old man in a lotus position. He was meditating with his eyes shut.
His beard was so long that it nearly touched the ground beneath. His robes were white with deep blue patterns on them.
Lin Mao was utterly mesmerized.
"This," he whispered, "is like a painting brought to life."
The old man opened his eyes slowly. He radiated a calm, commanding aura that seemed to blend perfectly with the nature surrounding him.
Without moving a muscle, he asked, "Lin Mao, do you know why you are here?"
Lin Mao swallowed, feeling the weight of the question.
"I... have no idea," he admitted. "But if it involves another staircase, I might reconsider my choices."
A small, amused smile formed at the corners of the old man's mouth.
The old man's hands reached for his beard, brushing it gently as he spoke, his voice filled with emotion.
"Lin Mao, I took you from your parents when you were just eight years old. If not for me, you would have died. Your parents were incapable of feeding themselves, so how could they hope to feed you? I did all I could to raise you, to shelter you, and now here you stand before me, grown into a fine young man."
Lin Mao listened quietly, though a sharp ache suddenly developed in his head.
Unfamiliar memories began flooding his mind—blurred faces, unfamiliar words, and emotions that he didn't fully understand.
His body tensed in pain, but he kept his silence, unwilling to let the pain show as he pressed a hand lightly to his head.
"You were diligent in your studies," the master continued, "and your mind shone with the potential to become a true master of philosophy. Your questions were sharp, and your insights profound. But then…"
He sighed deeply, a trace of bitterness in his tone. "Everything changed because of a young woman."
"You let your heart become your undoing. Just because she refused to be your companion, you gave everything up. You let the rejection poison your ambition."
The old master's eyes narrowed as he watched Lin Mao closely. Even though Lin Mao tried to hide the confusion, his awkward body language quickly gave him off.
The old master stroked his beard thoughtfully. His hands paused for a small moment before he turned his gaze to the man standing beside Lin Mao.
"Ti Xhin, what happened to him?"
Ti Xhin bowed respectfully, his expression solemn.
"Master, he claims to have forgotten his memories."
The old master's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and his gaze returned to Lin Mao.
"Is that true?" he asked.
Lin Mao nodded slowly. "Yes, master. I… I can't bring myself to remember who I am, where I am—or anything."
The old master gestured for Lin Mao to come closer.
Lin Mao swallowed hard, his throat dry, as he took tentative steps forward. When he finally reached the master, he kneeled before him.
The old man brought his wrinkled hands to Lin Mao's forehead. Closing his eyes, he exhaled a long breath.
A silence hung in the air as the master's aura seemed to radiate with a calming energy, his fingers pressed gently against Lin Mao's brow.
After a few tense moments, the master's eyes fluttered open.
"Lin Mao truly has lost his memories. There is nothing but jumbled fragments within his mind."
Lin Mao took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing.
"Thank god,"
Ti Xhin, who had been watching intently, furrowed his brows in confusion.
"But, Master, how can such a thing happen out of nowhere?"
The old master shook his head slowly, his eyes half shut as if lost in thought.
"That is not of importance, Ti Xhin. What matters is what lies ahead. Take him to his room and help him regain his memories. Guide him back to the path he once walked."
Ti Xhin opened his mouth as if to protest but quickly closed it.
He bowed deeply. "I will, Master."
He turned to Lin Mao, his expression finally softening.
"Junior brother, follow me."
Lin Mao was surprised at being called junior brother. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed closely behind Ti Xhin.
I really walked straight into a Chinese fantasy novel. But not gonna lie—being called 'junior brother' feels pretty damn good.