I sat beside the flickering fire, staring at the shadows dancing across the cave walls. Lan Wangji sat nearby, silent, his attention fixed on Wei Wuxian. The only sound was the soft crackle of flame and the occasional drip of water echoing from deeper inside.
And all I could think was: This cannot be my life.
I mean, seriously. One minute I was curled up on my couch, binge-watching The Untamed for the tenth time, and now… now I was here. In a cave. With the actual Lan Wangji. And the actual Wei Wuxian, currently unconscious and possibly dying in front of me.
Somewhere out there, the fourth wall was crying.
I laughed. Quietly. The kind of laugh that comes out when your brain short-circuits and decides, sure, this is fine.
Hey guys, sorry I missed girls' night. I got pulled into an alternate reality where I'm responsible for saving the main characters of a Chinese fantasy drama. Hope karaoke went well!
And what about work? What was I supposed to say? Hi boss, I can't make Monday's meeting—I'm trapped in a cave with two fictional cultivators and zero WiFi.
I wrapped my arms around my knees. The fire warmed my clothes, now mostly dry, but inside I was still shaking. How long would I be stuck here? Was anyone back home even looking for me? Or had I just… disappeared?
Maybe I died, I thought. Maybe this is some kind of reincarnation thing. Or a coma dream. Or a simulation glitch. Theories spun through my head like a broken loading screen.
And none of them made me feel better.
I looked over at Lan Wangji—so calm, so composed, gently tending to Wei Wuxian without a word of complaint. He didn't question the situation, didn't spiral like I did. He just acted.
I envied that.
At some point, I must have dozed off. When I opened my eyes again, the cave looked the same—but something was different.
A faint groan.
Wei Wuxian.
He stirred, his body shifting slightly. Lan Wangji was at his side in an instant.
"Wei Ying," he said, his voice soft but urgent.
Wei Wuxian blinked slowly, disoriented. "Lan Zhan… what happened?" His gaze drifted to me. "Who… who are you?"
Before I could answer, Lan Wangji spoke. "This is Mei Lin," he said evenly. "I do not know how she came to be here, but she helped you. She is not a threat."
Wei Wuxian gave the tiniest nod. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely there.
"Don't mention it," I said, my voice softer than I meant. "Just focus on getting better."
Wei Wuxian stirred again, a faint tremor running through his body.
I blinked. Was he… shivering?
His breathing hitched, and his limbs gave a subtle jerk—barely noticeable, but enough to send alarm bells ringing in my head.
I looked toward Lan Wangji. "He's shaking," I said softly. "Can I…?" I hesitated, hand hovering above Wei Wuxian's forehead. "May I check?"
Lan Wangji met my eyes and gave a single, curt nod.
I reached out and touched his hand—and recoiled. He was burning up.
"Lan Zhan!" I gasped. "He's burning—he's got a fever!"
We moved quickly. Taking turns, we fetched water from the trickling wall and soaked cloth to cool him down. Forehead. Neck. Wrists. Over and over. Our hands moved in a silent rhythm, but nothing was working.
His breathing grew shallow. His skin flushed and slick with sweat. His body shook with fever.
"It's not working," I said, panic bleeding into my voice. "He's getting worse."
Lan Wangji's face was drawn tight with worry. "Keep trying," he said, but even he sounded unsure.
And then, Wei Wuxian slipped back into unconsciousness—limp and pale, like a flame sputtering out.
I stared down at him, dread settling into my bones. "No," I whispered. "No, no, no. I did not get transported into my favorite drama just to watch my favorite character die. That's not how this is supposed to go."
Without a word, Lan Wangji made the hand movement and pointed at Wei Wuxian's forehead, then closed his eyes. A soft, blue glow spread from his fingers, warm and steady, wrapping Wei Wuxian in a cocoon of light.
He was transferring his spiritual energy.
Just like the show.
Only this time, it was real.
I watched in awe—and horror—as Lan Wangji's face paled with the effort. His shoulders trembled. The light flickered once, twice, then steadied.
He wasn't stopping. He was giving everything.
"Lan Zhan," I said, rushing to his side. "You need to rest. Please. You can't—"
"I'm fine," he said, but his voice was barely audible.
"I'll get more water," I told him, already moving. "You stay here. Just… breathe."
He gave a faint nod, too exhausted to protest.
I turned and walked toward the back of the cave, the firelight at my back. My hands were shaking. My breath felt thin.
This was no longer a story.
This was life and death.
And I was part of it.
The floating lights that guided me back through the tunnel flickered, dimmer than before. Their glow pulsed faintly like fading fireflies.
Is this tied to Lan Wangji's spiritual energy? I wondered, quickening my steps. The water sloshed in my makeshift container as I hurried, heart pounding—not just from urgency, but from something I couldn't quite name.
As I neared the mouth of our little camp, I slowed.
Voices.
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.
I paused, half-hidden by the curve of stone. Their voices carried softly, filled with something raw and unguarded.
"Wei Ying, stay with me. We will get through this." Lan Wangji's voice was gentle but strained, trembling with emotion.
Wei Wuxian's familiar lilt—tired but still him—answered, "Lan Zhan, I'm fine. Really. Although I have to say… if I don't make it, at least I've had the pleasure of seeing you in nurse mode."
Lan Wangji's voice dropped. "Do not say such things. You will make it. You must."
Silence.
Then, quietly: "I'm a little sad," Wei Wuxian said. "I'm here, on my deathbed, and all I wanted was to spend more time with you."
Lan Wangji's breath hitched. His eyes were wet, though he didn't cry. Not really. "Wei Ying…"
And then he leaned down and kissed him.
I froze.
I was witnessing something so personal, so heartbreakingly intimate, that it felt illegal to breathe too loudly. And yet, I watched—because how could I not?
Lan Wangji just kissed Wei Wuxian.
Let me repeat that.
Lan Wangji just kissed Wei Wuxian.
Live. In front of me. In a cave. No script, no edits, no dramatic wind machines—just raw, desperate love and spiritual exhaustion.
Somewhere deep inside me, the ghost of my past self—curled up on the couch with a blanket, boba tea, and a playlist of WangXian fan edits—was flatlining from emotional overload.
Because there was no perfect lighting. No swelling music. No carefully choreographed camera work. Just two people, clinging to each other in the dark, trying not to fall apart.
They parted only slightly, foreheads touching. Lan Wangji whispered, "I love you, Wei Ying."
Wei Wuxian reached up weakly, thumb brushing away a tear. "I love you too, Lan Zhan. Always."
I couldn't move.
My heart punched the inside of my chest like it wanted front-row seats. My brain? Fully melting. My lungs? Not even functioning. I was honestly surprised I hadn't burst into sparkles and evaporated on the spot.
I had dreamed of this—of them—so many times. But now that it was in front of me, living and breathing, it was almost too much to take.
Part of me wanted to cheer. The other part? Cry.
Because this moment, so beautiful, was happening in the middle of a nightmare. Wei Wuxian was still weak. Lan Wangji was still pushing himself to the brink. And we were still trapped in a cave with nothing but dripping rocks and protein bars.
I looked down at the container in my hands.
Right. Water.
They needed it.
But I couldn't bring myself to interrupt—not yet. I backed up a step and waited, giving them a little longer.
When I finally decided it was time, I picked up a small stone and tossed it gently at the cave wall.
Click.
The soft echo bounced through the space like a whisper.
Lan Wangji immediately pulled back, composed in a flash, but still close to Wei Wuxian, who—of course—instantly closed his eyes and slumped back, pretending to be asleep like he hadn't just confessed his love mid-fever.
I smiled, warmth and heartbreak tangled up in my chest.
These two.
God, I was going to need therapy. Or a therapist who also watched The Untamed. Possibly both.
"I have water," I said softly, stepping into the light like some awkward forest spirit holding a bowl of salvation. "And I also have… um, painkillers. And antibiotics."
Lan Wangji's gaze locked onto me, sharp and searching. That look could've carved through lies like a sword through silk.
"What are these… painkillers and antibiotics?" he asked, cautious, but his voice carried the unmistakable edge of hope. Or desperation.
I knelt beside them, setting down the container and opening the first aid kit.
"Painkillers help reduce pain and fever," I said, pulling out the small foil pack. "Antibiotics fight off infections. They're from my world—used all the time."
He nodded once. Still wary, still quiet, but he didn't stop me.
And really, if Lan Wangji was willing to take a chance on me and my suspicious modern pills, things were very bad.
I handed them over, showing him how to give the dosage. He examined each item like it might combust, then gently roused Wei Wuxian with a hand on his shoulder.
"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian blinked blearily, wincing as he shifted.
"She says this will help," Lan Wangji murmured.
There was so much trust packed into those few words. And Wei Wuxian, without hesitation, took the pills straight from Lan Wangji's hand.
If I die here, at least I'll have that image.
"Thank you," Wei Wuxian whispered, his voice barely audible but still somehow charming. Of course he'd thank the weird time-displaced girl who shows up with mystery meds.
"You're welcome," I said, brushing my hands against my dress like that would stop them from shaking. "Just rest now. Let the medicine kick in. It's not magical, but… it helps."
I sat back on my heels, watching him already starting to drift off again. For the first time since this all began, there was a flicker of peace in the air. Fragile. Temporary. But real.