At some point, exhaustion finally won. I curled up against the cave wall, the flickering firelight warming my side, and drifted off.
When I woke again, the cave was quiet. Still. My neck hurt from the angle I'd slept in, and my limbs were stiff from the cold stone, but Wei Wuxian's breathing was calm. Steady. That alone made everything else bearable.
Lan Wangji still sat by his side, unchanged—like time had frozen around him. His eyes, as ever, didn't waver from Wei Wuxian's face.
I rubbed my eyes and stretched, trying not to groan aloud. "We should get more water," I murmured, my voice rough with sleep.
Lan Wangji glanced at me and gave a small nod. Without a word, he rose and walked toward the inner cave. I grabbed the empty container and followed him, the soft light from his floating flame leading the way.
We said nothing at first. The silence between us was thick, but not hostile. Just… full of things unspoken.
When we reached the dripping wall, he lifted his robe and began to collect the water again. I crouched beside him, feeling the damp stone under my fingers, the chill settling back into my bones.
And still, I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen.
The moment. The kiss. The confession.
Clearing my throat, I decided to break the silence. "Lan Zhan," I said softly, testing the name.
Lan Wangji's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he remained silent, waiting for me to continue.
I swallowed hard, feeling the awkwardness creep in. "I... I wanted to thank you for everything you're doing. You're really brave."
Lan Wangji nodded curtly, his expression unreadable.
Encouraged by his acknowledgment, I decided to tread lightly into the territory that had been haunting my thoughts.
"So, um... Lan Zhan," I began, my voice shaking, "about what I saw earlier, between you and Wei Wuxian... I mean, Wei Ying... earlier, when I went to get water... I saw... I mean, I couldn't help but notice the... the moment you shared with Wei Wuxian."
Lan Wangji's reaction was immediate. His eyes widened in shock, and a flush crept up his neck to his ears. Before I could react, he pulled out his sword, the blade gleaming menacingly in the firelight.
"What did you see?" he demanded, his voice icy and dangerous.
"I—nothing bad! I swear. I just… I saw you two—together. It was beautiful. Emotional. Not… not something I would ever mock."
Lan Wangji's expression shifted from pure shock to something colder—more guarded. A wall slammed down behind his eyes.
"You should not have witnessed that," he said, his voice suddenly stern, clipped. Controlled. "It is not your place to speak of it."
The air in the cave thickened instantly, like it knew what was coming.
Panic surged up my throat. My hands shot up instinctively, palms out like a helpless side character in a crime drama.
"Please, Lan Zhan—don't—don't kill me," I blurted out, my voice barely keeping up with my heart. "I didn't mean to intrude or make you uncomfortable. I just... I saw the love between you two, and I wanted to reassure you that it's okay."
I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," I added quickly, forcing myself to breathe. "I didn't mean to cross a line. I just… I was moved. Honestly. It was beautiful. And I won't say a word."
His grip on the sword tightened. Not just in anger—there was something else in it. Fear, maybe. Or shame.
His eyes were blazing now, not with fire but with something even more volatile. Don't look too closely, they seemed to say. Don't say it out loud. Don't make it real.
"If you ever speak of this to anyone," he said, each word deliberate, like a blade being drawn an inch at a time, "I will kill you."
A chill skittered down my spine, and for a second, I genuinely believed he might. Not out of cruelty—but out of instinct. Out of the raw need to protect what little he had left.
"I won't," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the terror curling in my gut. "I swear. I respect your privacy. Your secret is safe with me."
He held my gaze for a long, crushing second. Then, slowly, his stance loosened. Not relaxed—but less ready to strike.
The firelight flickered across his face, and something in his expression… softened.
Lan Wangji looked down, the corner of his mouth barely twitching. "Wei Ying and I…" he began, then stopped.
The silence that followed was heavier than words.
"I get it," I said quickly, softly. "In my world, it's not something you have to hide. Love is love. People are free to—well, mostly free—to be who they are. You don't have to explain."
Lan Wangji's expression didn't change, but I could feel something shift—like a ripple under still water.
He didn't nod. Didn't speak.
But he didn't correct me either.
"In this world…" he said at last, then stopped again. His voice was quiet, more breath than sound.
He didn't need to finish the sentence. I saw it in his posture. The way his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not in threat, but habit. Defense. Protection. Shame disguised as discipline.
My heart clenched. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "That must be… incredibly lonely."
He didn't answer.
"I saw what you did," I continued. "I saw the way you looked at him. The way he looked at you. That wasn't something to be ashamed of. That was… real."
Lan Wangji said nothing, but the tips of his ears turned the faintest shade of pink. The only outward betrayal of what boiled beneath that ever-composed surface.
"I won't tell anyone," I added. "I swear. Your secret is safe with me."
Lan Wangji held my gaze, long enough to make the silence throb.
And then—finally—he lowered his sword.
And sheathed it.
No words. Just that.
A truce.
An act of trust more meaningful than anything he could've said.
As we walked back, the silence between us was no longer sharp.
Back at camp, Wei Wuxian still slept, his chest rising and falling with a little more ease. The firelight painted soft shadows over his face.
Lan Wangji moved to his side immediately, pressing the damp cloth to his forehead with infinite care. Like he'd done it a thousand times before.
He finally turned to look at me. Not sharply. Just… fully. Like he was finally seeing me not as a threat, or an anomaly, but as someone who might understand.
Maybe.
"You are not from here," he said after a beat, his tone low, unreadable.
"No," I admitted. "And I still have no idea where here is, but I know enough to recognize something when it's worth protecting."
Lan Wangji didn't respond. He didn't have to.
He turned back to Wei Wuxian, reaching down to gently brush a strand of hair from his face. It was the kind of gesture you'd miss if you blinked—but I didn't.
"Thank you," he said, barely audible. Whether to me, or to Wei Wuxian for surviving this long, I couldn't tell.
My heart was still pounding from the close call.
I mean—seriously. I almost got myself decapitated because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Curiosity didn't just kill the cat—it waved a red flag in front of a cultivator with a legendary sword and a hairline trigger for emotional repression.
Note to self: in this world, think before you speak. People carry swords, and they use them. Often. With terrifying precision.
What even was this place?
Some version of ancient China? A historical fantasy? A parallel realm that forgot to install basic rights but remembered how to perfectly style flowing robes and weaponized longing glances?
In modern, love between two men is still a complicated subject. Tolerated in some places, celebrated in secret spaces—but still shadowed by judgment. But at least it's possible to speak it aloud. At least we have a voice.
Here? It could get you killed.
I thought about The Untamed—how millions of people watched, shipped, analyzed every lingering stare and almost-touch. The way the fandom exploded, not just because of the story, but because we saw what wasn't allowed to be said. We knew. We built it into canon with sheer collective willpower and a thousand edits set to dramatic piano covers.
I was part of that.
And now I was inside it.
As I sat there, watching the flickering firelight dance across their faces, I realized that I was part of something extraordinary.
And I knew that no matter what happened next, I would do everything in my power to protect that love. Because it was worth protecting. It was worth fighting for. Just like in the dramas I loved so much, real love always was.