Gold Blood Eyes ||Mo Dao Zu Shi||

Chapter 4: The Fragrance Hall

When Wei WuXian woke up the next morning, he had a mild heart attack. Instead of the black walls and blown out candles, with the touch of a small back ache, he woke up in comfortable night robes, tucked under a blanket in a bedroom that was nothing but old memories in his head.

Wei WuXian sat up, looking around his old bedroom that resonated within the warm walls of Lotus Pier. He sat there silent, just taking in the room. He knew it was his, he saw the childish and silly carvings in the wood he had made years and years ago. But the air felt different...as if it were unreal, not supposed to exist.

Wei WuXian stood up, slowly basking within the atmosphere so different but so familiar, as he got ready for the day. Jiang Cheng had insisted on providing some new black and red robes for the demonic cultivator, who took them with gratitude. His old robes were simple, black and red, occasionally he wore a dark grey or deep brown hue. But these robes, the robes gifted to him, were high quality. The fabric was strong and Wei WuXian could feel the hums of protective wards and talismans to keep him warm and for the robes to not stain. He also noticed the lotus motif that was sown in a slightly different shade of black. It too wasn't obvious unless you were familiar with Yunmeng stitching as he was or had been informed it was there. A smile crawled onto the pale face, silver eyes sparkling with affection.

That motif was not just an assurance that he was still considered a part of the sect, despite "defecting", but it was a promise that he wasn't alone. Wei WuXian let himself be selfish and relish in it, letting himself trust the fabric that would hide his thin frame.

Once he had given himself the longest and most thorough bath in years, Wei WuXian adorned his new, but old, robes. He noticed the new red ribbon instead of his old one, another amused smile curling at his lips. He reached for a comb, fingers coming to a stop as a pale hand grabbed it instead. Wei WuXian glanced in the mirror to see two females and one male with glowing and slightly transparent bodies floating around him. Wei WuXian smiled, "You followed me,"

The female who picked up the comb giggled, the laughter pleasant and warm. Her clothes were a minty green color, her black hair ending at her shoulders. In her hair was a simple headpiece with a pale pink flower, matching with the earrings she had on. She was the youngest of the three spirits and her name was Bai Chunhua and when she was alive, she was a simple common woman. Her death was unfortunate, killed by her family as she refused to marry let alone have any romantic relationships with a man. She was not interested in the male gender as she was the female, "Of course, we did, *Xiao Wei"

The second female was the eldest of the three. She wore female cultivator robes, a sword just as transparent as her strapped to her waist. Her black hair was tied back into a high ponytail and her eyes were sharp yet bright. Her robes were dark blue, with white inner robes. The name belonging to her was Ren MingXia, a former cultivator who had died in the Battle that caused the Yiling Mountains to become the Burial Mounds. She raised an eyebrow at Wei WuXian, "As if we'd let you just walk out of Yiling without our company when the cultivation world is out for your head!"

The third and final spirit was older than Bai Chunhua, but younger than Ren MingXia, and his name was Zeng Minsheng. He wasn't a cultivator, but he had a large sword strapped to his back and daggers hidden on his body underneath the dark brown robes, with equally dark grey inner robes. He was a talented fighter, but when he was alive, was nothing more than an orphan who taught himself to fight and survive, doing quick jobs to earn money and living as a street rat, who occasionally resulted in stealing. He had died by getting attacked by a powerful yao. Zeng Minsheng rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall, "Are you sure leaving is a good idea?"

Wei WuXian sat down and let Bai Chunhua do his hair. She had done it multiple times before. Out of the spirits he communicated with, these three were the closest to him. They protected and nurtured him, kept him company at night when the nightmares plagued him. They had warned him multiple times of intruders and cultivators trying to start trouble during the past two years. He spoke with a firm tone, "Lan Zhan is in danger,"