( Strange tension)
The first thing Zhang Wei did when he woke—
Was yawn.
Soft. Unrestrained.
As though nothing in the world had shifted.
His lashes fluttered slowly, vision blurred at the edges before clearing in pieces. The ceiling above him came into focus first—wooden beams, unfamiliar patterns carved along the edges.
His brows knit faintly.
When did I fall asleep again…?
The thought came slowly, like wading through fog.
The last thing he remembered—
The window.
The wind.
Standing there.
And then—
Nothing.
He pushed himself up, movements unsteady but light. The fabric around him shifted with a soft rustle, brushing against his skin like water.
His gaze dropped.
Orange.
A muted, warm shade—different from anything he had worn before.
The robe was simple, yet refined. The outer layer was thin and smooth, with faint embroidered lines that curved like drifting clouds. It wasn't flashy—but it felt… deliberate. Carefully chosen.
Zhang Wei blinked.
"This… isn't mine."
His fingers brushed the sleeve, feeling the unfamiliar texture.
Strange.
His gaze lifted again, scanning the room.
It was bigger.
Not by much—but enough.
The layout was different. The table stood in another corner. The bed was wider. The air felt… less personal.
"This isn't my room…"
He said it quietly this time.
Then—
His eyes dropped again.
To his wrist.
Bandaged.
Clean.
Wrapped tightly in white cloth.
He tilted his head slightly, staring at it as if trying to recall something that refused to come.
"…Did I… throw up last night and cut myself?"
The logic made little sense.
But his mind didn't offer anything better.
He shook his head lightly, his long white hair slipping over his shoulders in soft strands, the colored threads tangled faintly among them.
"Strange…"
The word barely left his lips before he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His boots had been placed neatly a short distance away.
He slipped them on without thinking.
Then stood.
—
The corridor outside was quiet.
Too quiet.
The door opened with a soft creak.
And immediately—
Two disciples turned.
Their reaction was instant.
Relief.
Clear.
Unhidden.
"Young—"
They stopped themselves, straightening quickly.
Zhang Wei blinked at them.
"What are you doing here?"
His tone was genuine.
Confused.
Then—
It clicked.
He looked back briefly into the room.
Then at them again.
"…Ah."
A small, sheepish expression crossed his face.
"Wrong room."
Before either of them could react—
He bowed his head slightly.
"Sorry."
And walked past.
Light steps.
Unbothered.
Unaware.
"Wait—!"
Too late.
He was already halfway down the corridor.
—
The stairs creaked softly under his weight as he descended, his orange robe flowing lightly around him with each step. The color warmed his pale complexion, making his features stand out more than before.
Different.
Noticeably so.
And downstairs—
It was noticed immediately.
The moment he appeared—
The air shifted.
Whispers died mid-sentence.
Eyes turned.
All at once.
"…There—"
"…He came down…"
"…So that's him…"
The murmurs returned instantly.
But sharper now.
More focused.
Zhang Wei didn't understand why.
He simply continued down, one hand brushing lightly against the railing for balance.
"Sister Sang—"
His voice carried softly.
Warm.
Familiar.
Sang Sang's head lifted immediately.
She didn't need sight to know.
The moment he stepped into the open—
She felt it.
The shift.
The attention.
Her fingers tightened slightly against Fei Fei's hand.
"Zhang Wei," she called.
Relief.
Clear in her voice.
He smiled faintly, his hair falling loosely over his shoulders, catching the light as he moved. The orange robe flowed around him, soft and unrestrictive—
Too soft.
Too revealing.
Not indecent.
But enough.
Enough for eyes already watching.
He reached them quickly—
But not freely.
A sudden weight settled over his shoulders.
A coat.
Light at first—
Then firm.
He blinked.
"What—"
The fur-lined outer layer wrapped around him, covering the thin robe beneath almost entirely. The texture was warmer, heavier, unfamiliar.
Zhang Lin's hands moved with quiet precision, fastening it in place without a word.
Zhang Wei frowned immediately.
His skin already felt warm—
Now it burned slightly beneath the added layer.
"…Why?"
The thought lingered in his expression, clear as day.
He shifted slightly, instinctively trying to loosen it—
But Zhang Lin's hand tightened just enough on the tie to stop him.
Zhang Wei looked up at him.
And paused.
Zhang Lin's face—
Was serious.
Not calm.
Not neutral.
Serious.
That alone was enough to quiet him.
—
Around them—
The whispers had not stopped.
They had only changed.
"…Covered him…"
"…Too late…"
"…Still visible…"
"…That skin…"
Low laughter followed.
Soft.
Hungry.
Zhang Lie stepped closer, his presence cutting through the space like a blade. His deep blue robe flared slightly with the movement, his gaze sweeping across the room once—
Cold.
Warning.
Enough to silence a few.
But not all.
—
"Let's go," Zhang Lin said quietly.
Not a suggestion.
Zhang Wei blinked again.
Something wasn't right.
He didn't understand what—
But he felt it.
The way hands moved around him.
The way the disciples closed in slightly.
The way the room looked at him—
Not like before.
Something in his chest tightened faintly.
"Wait for Elder Mi," Sang Sang added softly, her voice steadier now, though her grip on Fei Fei remained firm.
Zhang Wei opened his mouth—
But before he could ask—
"Upstairs. Now."
Zhang Lie's voice left no room.
Zhang Wei barely had time to react before a hand caught his arm—not rough, but firm—and guided him back.
Fast.
Too fast.
His steps stumbled slightly trying to keep up.
"H-Hey—wait—"
His confusion spilled onto his face clearly, each thought unhidden, each question forming and dissolving just as quickly.
"What's going on—?"
No answer.
Only movement.
The stairs again.
The corridor.
The door.
Then—
He was back inside.
The room felt smaller now.
The lanterns cast a warmer glow, but it did nothing to ease the tension.
Zhang Wei turned, looking between them.
Zhang Lie stood near the door.
Zhang Lin near the bed.
Both serious.
Both silent.
"…Zhang Lie," he started, his voice uncertain now, "what's going on?"
No answer.
"Did I miss something?"
Still nothing.
His brows drew together.
"Don't you remember?" Zhang Lie asked finally.
Zhang Wei blinked.
"…Remember what?"
Genuine.
Completely.
Blank.
Zhang Lie frowned.
The tension in the room thickened.
Then—
"Nothing," Zhang Lin said.
Calm again.
Too calm.
"Elder Mi wants to speak with you."
A pause.
"…We'll wait."
Zhang Wei stood there, still wrapped in the unfamiliar coat, his fingers lightly gripping the edge of it.
Confused.
Unsettled.
And for the first time—
A faint, quiet unease settled in his chest.
Because whatever had happened—
Everyone else knew.
And he didn't.