Reincarnated as a Scholar: But I only write Erotica-Chapter 19: Flaring ember

He smirked, determination lightning in his eyes. "Next time, I'll challenge them with something they've never seen—something so bold, so scandalous, it'll shake this sect to its core."

Ti Xhin choked on his dumpling, coughing as he stared at Lin Mao in disbelief. "You—what? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," Lin Mao said, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "This sect's about to learn what happens when you mix philosophy with a little bit degeneracy. Watch me turn this rejection into a revolution."

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Ti Xhin shook his head, half-amused, half-confused.

Lin Mao smirked, leaning back with a smug smile. "And what happened to all those saint-like words you were spouting before, huh? All that 'scholarly dignity' and 'path of wisdom' nonsense?"

Ti Xhin paused mid-bite, the dumpling halfway to his mouth. He coughed awkwardly, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he tried to regain his composure.

"What do you mean by that, Junior Brother?" he said, his voice awkward as he to cling to that gentle, scholarly tone he had been using earlier. "I'm merely recounting the tale as it happened—"

"Oh, shut up, Senior Brother," Lin Mao cut him off, chuckling as he waved a hand dismissively. "You can be open with me. Drop the holier-than-thou act—you're enjoying this way too much. I can see it in that smug little grin of yours."

Ti Xhin's lips twitched, caught like a child. He set the dumpling down, folding his arms with a huff. "Fine. You want the raw version? You were a lovesick fool who thought he could win her with half-baked verses and a cocky attitude. It was pathetic. Happy now?"

Lin Mao grinned wider, unfazed by the blunt words. "Much better. See? Was that so hard?"

He popped the dumpling into his mouth, chewing with a calm satisfaction before his gaze drifted back to Jin Lina. She was still there, a vision in green, laughing softly with her friends. The way the lantern light danced across her face made her look like she had stepped straight out of heaven—untouchable, radiant, and way too perfect for a screw-up like him.

But then, something shifted. His chest tightened, a strange warmth stirring deep inside. His smirk faded, chopsticks hovering mid-air.

What the hell? He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on her. Was this... the real soul acting up? The original Lin Mao, forcing his way out of whatever void he had been shoved into when this new consciousness took over?

Was she the one who had turned him into this—this broken, pitiful mess Ti Xhin was mocking?

His mind flashed back, subconsciously to that poem he had found in his room—the one scribbled in that hurried, desperate manner.

"With the passage of time, I have buried us, the possibility of you and me... within. For I have withered... withered."

The lines were suddenly heavy. He could almost feel the weight of them, the ache of a guy who had poured his soul onto that page and gotten nothing back. Jin Lina's face flickered in his mind again—those sharp eyes, that serene smile—and suddenly, it wasn't just some random poem anymore.

It was her. She was the "you" who had left the original Lin Mao to wither, wasn't she? The one who had snapped his ambition like a twig and sent him spiraling into whatever pitiful state he had been in.

Lin Mao blinked, shaking his head to clear the fog. "No way," he whispered.

"I'm not that guy. I don't simp over anyone." But his heart wouldn't shut up, beating louder as he watched her tilt her head, her hair moving like a waterfall.

He gritted his teeth, forcing a laugh to cover the unease creeping up his soul. "Get a grip, man. She's just a chick. A hot one, sure, but still—just a chick."

Ti Xhin raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle shift in Lin Mao's tone. "What's that? Talking to yourself now? Don't tell me you're still head over heels after all this time."

"Head over heels?" Lin Mao snorted, leaning forward with a forced grin. "Please. I don't do that. I'm just... strategizing. Yeah, that's it. Figuring out how to one-up her and that poetic fiancé of hers."

He jabbed a chopstick in Ti Xhin's direction. "You said I lost a poem battle, right? Well, I'm not losing again. Next time, I'll hit 'em with something they can't handle."

Ti Xhin smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Sure, Junior Brother. Keep telling yourself that. But those eyes of yours? They're saying something else entirely."

Lin Mao glared at him, then stole another dumpling off the tray. "Shut it. My eyes are saying 'feed me,' that's all." He bit into it aggressively, chewing as if he could grind away the weird ache still lingering in his chest.

But even as he played it off, his gaze flicked back to Jin Lina one last time. She turned slightly, her eyes brushing past him—distant, indifferent—and that ember flared again, sharp and uninvited.

Damn it, he thought, shoving the feeling down. If she broke the old me, she's not breaking the new one. I'll show her—I'll show them all.