Lan Wangji was dying.
Or so it seemed to Wei Wuxian, who could do nothing but to watch helplessly as the healers worked in frenzied silence. The world had narrowed to the pale, sweat-slicked face of the man he loved, and the only sound that existed anymore was the strained drag of Lan Wangji's breath—and the deafening, relentless pounding of his own heart.
The celebration had vanished like a mirage. Now, urgency cloaked the palace like fog—dense, suffocating, and cold. Lan Wangji was rushed to the royal infirmary, his unconscious body carried by trembling hands and accompanied by silent prayers. The hall once filled with laughter was now locked down under the glare of drawn swords and suspicion.
The jars of wine, once symbols of joy and camaraderie, now stood lined like criminals, each one tested under grim scrutiny. The healers moved with precision, their tools clicking against ceramic, the scent of crushed herbs thick in the air.
Wei Wuxian didn't move from Lan Wangji's side. He sat like a ghost made flesh, his usual roguish charm stripped away, leaving behind only raw desperation.
He didn't speak much. When he did, his voice trembled like a snapped bowstring.
I stood a short distance away, helpless. Watching Wei Wuxian hurt. It was the first time I had seen him this undone—his easy grin gone, his eyes glazed with fear, the kind that made his shoulders sag with the weight of love unspoken.
The palace had gone still. Even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.
Then, finally, Lan Xichen arrived.
He stepped into the infirmary like the eye of a storm—composed, dignified, but visibly shaken beneath the calm. He crossed the room in measured strides, kneeling beside his brother. One hand rested gently on Lan Wangji's chest, as if grounding him.
Then he turned to Wei Wuxian. "How is he?"
Wei Wuxian's answer came hoarse and ragged. "They're working on him. They're trying everything."
His voice cracked on the last word, and Lan Xichen reached out, briefly placing a hand on his shoulder. "He's strong. He'll fight."
Then his eyes met mine, searching. "How did you know?"
I hesitated. The truth hovered at the edge of my tongue, but something told me this wasn't the time to name Prince Jian Yi. Not yet. "A cat licked the spilled wine... it seized almost immediately. Then a servant collapsed while checking the jars. I connected the dots and ran to stop Prince Wei."
Lan Xichen nodded slowly. "You acted quickly."
I shrugged, though my hands still trembled. "I just—reacted. It could've been worse."
His gaze gentled. "You saved his life. We owe you more than we can say."
Then his expression steeled, calm but dangerous. "I must speak to the guards and the ambassadors. We need to find who did this." He looked at Wei Wuxian and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "I will return soon."
And with that, he left the room.
Wei Wuxian looked at me, and though his eyes were red-rimmed, there was a flicker of gratitude in them. "Thank you," he said, barely a whisper. "For stopping me."
Quietly, I asked, "Wei Ying… doesn't Lan Zhan usually avoid wine? I thought he never drinks." Everyone who watched the drama knew that Lan Wangji couldn't hold his wine.
Wei Wuxian gave a bitter laugh, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "He doesn't. Not usually."
I waited, sensing there was more.
He let out a shaky breath, "He took the cup from me. Said I'd already had too much. I dared him—half-joking—'if you care so much, then drink it yourself.' And… he did."
The guilt in his voice was unmistakable. Heavy. Raw. The kind that chews a man from the inside out.
"I thought I was being funny," he said, voice cracking. "Just teasing. I never thought…"
He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Before I could find the right words to comfort him, the head healer approached, his face solemn but steady. "We've identified the poison and administered the antidote," he said. "Hanguang-jun is stable now."
A collective breath released. Wei Wuxian's shoulders slumped, relief rushing over him like a crashing wave—but the worry didn't leave his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice raw and frayed at the edges.
The healer gave a respectful nod and stepped away.
Wei Wuxian turned to the others. "Please… leave us. Just for a moment."
The room emptied in silence, the last rustle of robes disappearing behind the door. Only the three of us remained—Lan Wangji lying pale but alive, Wei Wuxian at his side, and me, watching from the corner with my heart clenched in my chest.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the weight of the moment hit. Wei Wuxian's façade cracked, and he collapsed to his knees beside the bed, gripping Lan Wangji's hand with both of his. His voice trembled.
"Lan Zhan… I was so scared."
Lan Wangji's eyelids fluttered. Then, slowly, his gaze found Wei Wuxian's. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried more comfort than a thousand reassurances. "Wei Ying… I'm still here."
A sob caught in Wei Wuxian's throat. He held onto Lan Wangji's hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. "It's my fault," he said hoarsely. "I—I dared you to drink. I pushed the cup into your hand like it was a joke."
Lan Wangji's lips curled into a faint, reassuring smile. "It wasn't your fault," he said, each word deliberate but gentle. "You didn't know."
Then his gaze shifted to me, sharp and focused despite his pallor. "Did we catch anyone?"
Wei Wuxian's expression darkened. He shook his head. "Zewu-jun is investigating. But no one's been caught. Not yet."
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at the back of my mind. "Do you think this was the same person who sent the scorpion? This doesn't feel random."
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchanged a look, one of unspoken understanding and grim realization.
"It has to be someone from within," Wei Wuxian said quietly. "Someone with power. Access. Confidence."
Lan Wangji turned back to Wei Wuxian, his voice softening. "I'm glad you didn't drink any of the poison, Wei Ying."
Wei Wuxian's eyes flashed with a mix of indignation and relief. "Lan Zhan, don't be glad I didn't drink it! Be glad you didn't die! I was so worried about you!"
Lan Wangji's chuckle was weak but genuine. "You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough!" Wei Wuxian shot back, though the love in his eyes was unmistakable. "What would you do without me to keep you on your toes?"
Lan Wangji's eyes softened as he gazed at Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji's expression shifted, something gentle and rare blooming across his face. Then—
He smiled.
I blinked. Did… did that just happen?
It wasn't a big smile. It wasn't even smug or amused. It was soft. Real. The kind of smile that didn't exist in the official drama but slipped through in behind-the-scenes clips—the one that made the whole fandom combust when they caught it between takes. The kind of smile you only ever saw in real life when one actor looked at another with something dangerously close to love.
And there it was, right in front of me.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I nearly tasted blood, anything to keep from squealing and blowing my cover. My internal fangirl had dropped to the floor in a dead faint, fists clenched to her chest.
Oh my god. It was the smile. The smile.
That one, small, perfect thing—meant only for Wei Wuxian and no one else.
I couldn't believe I was seeing it in person. Forget the poison. Forget the party. I had just witnessed a moment of living history.
I was never going to emotionally recover from this.