I sat up slowly, head pounding and ears still ringing from the explosion of light—or whatever that magical light beam from my body had been. The cave was pitch black again, save for the distant dripping of water and the steady thump of my own heartbeat.
"Are you... okay?" I called out into the dark, my voice barely above a whisper.
A soft groan answered me. Faint, but there.
I crawled toward the sound, fumbling with numb fingers. "Hang on, I've got a first aid kit," I muttered, because clearly, now was my time to shine. Band-Aid Girl to the rescue.
As I moved closer, a soft light flickered to life ahead of me. That same hovering fireball from earlier—it was back, casting a gentle glow across the stone walls. My breath caught. The warm light illuminated two figures: White Robes crouched beside Black Robes, one hand outstretched, the fireball hovering just above the injured man.
"Stay where you are," White Robes snapped, his voice like ice cracking through still air.
I froze.
"Is he okay? What's happening?" I asked, trying to sound helpful instead of freaked out.
He didn't look at me. His focus was entirely on the man slumped against the wall—Black Robes, bleeding heavily and barely breathing.
I hovered uncertainly, then remembered my kit. The one thing I had that might actually matter here. "I have something that could help," I offered, inching forward like someone trying not to spook a wild animal.
White Robes finally looked at me. "What is that?"
"It's a first aid kit," I said. "You know—bandages, antiseptic, that kind of thing."
His expression didn't change. "I've never heard of such a thing."
Of course, he hadn't.
"Who are you? How did you come to be here?"
Great. The interrogation part of the fantasy crossover.
"I'll explain, I swear. But can we maybe stop the bleeding first?" I said, pointing to the barely-conscious man currently leaking onto the stone floor. "I promise I'm not here to hurt anyone."
He didn't answer for a moment. Then: "If you try anything, I will not hesitate to deal with you."
That was... comforting.
"I get it," I said quickly. "Totally fair."
He nodded once, curt and controlled. The universal sign for I don't trust you, but I'm desperate.
I crouched beside the man in black and opened the kit. He was in bad shape—pale, clammy, soaked in blood. I fumbled for gauze and antiseptic wipes, pretending I wasn't shaking.
"I need more light," I said. "Can you move that thing closer?"
White Robes didn't speak, but the fireball drifted closer at a flick of his hand, bathing the scene in flickering amber. It was oddly beautiful… and mildly terrifying.
And then I saw the man's face.
My hands froze mid-motion.
No. No, absolutely not.
But yes. That was Xiao Zhan.
Like, the Xiao Zhan. Lying on the cave floor like he'd just been ripped from set and thrown into a real war zone.
My heart did a weird somersault. "You've got to be kidding me."
I looked up, hoping the delusion would stop.
And then I saw the other man clearly.
Wang Yibo.
Still in full Lan Wangji mode. White robes, hair ribbon, aloof scowl. I was losing it. Fully, completely, medically gone.
"No way," I whispered. "This... this can't be real."
My brain short-circuited. Had I passed out mid-binge? Was I in a coma? Had Netflix pulled me through the screen?
Wang Yibo frowned. "What are you doing?" he asked, like I was the confusing part of this situation.
I opened my mouth. No words. Just static.
"I... I don't know," I stammered. "I think I'm... in the drama? But I don't remember this scene."
Xiao Zhan stirred weakly, too out of it to comment on the absurdity. I glanced at him, then back at Wang Yibo—sorry, Lan Wangji—who looked almost as confused as I felt.
"What do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowed.
"I mean... this isn't how it's supposed to go," I said, voice rising with my panic. "There's no cave scene like this. Is this... is this supposed to be the turtle part? But that wasn't a scorpion. That was definitely a giant turtle."
We stared at each other—two people clearly existing in very different rulebooks.
And that's when it hit me, really hit me.
If this were The Untamed, or some version of it, I was so not supposed to be here. This wasn't fanfiction. This wasn't cosplay. This was real.
And if that was true...
Then I was in way, way over my head.
I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn't say anything. But curiosity had claws, and it wasn't letting go.
"Are you… by any chance… Lan Wangji?" I asked, cautiously, like the answer might shatter whatever fragile grip on reality I still had.
To my surprise, his eyes widened. Not a lot—but enough. "How do you know my name?" His voice was suddenly sharp, edged with suspicion.
Wait.
They weren't actors?
They weren't filming?
They were… the actual characters?
My stomach flipped. I bit my lip, suddenly unsure how to explain. "I… I've seen the drama," I said slowly. "The Untamed. I know who you are."
Lan Wangji frowned, clearly lost. "The Untamed?" he repeated, the words foreign in his mouth.
"It's a TV show," I explained, trying not to sound completely unhinged. "A… story. About you. And… and him." I nodded toward the man lying unconscious beside us. "Wei Wuxian."
Lan Wangji's frown deepened. The more I talked, the less sense I seemed to make to either of us.
I realized how absurd it sounded—telling someone they were the star of a fictional show that didn't exist in their world. I was already mentally kicking myself when a soft groan pulled our attention back.
Wei Wuxian.
Still alive, still in pain.
I bolted into action, snatching up the first aid kit again. "He's bleeding too much," I muttered, half to Lan Wangji, half to myself. "We need to stop it."
I knelt beside Wei Wuxian, suppressing the tremble in my hands. Antiseptic. Gauze. Pressure. The motions came easier now, automatic, like my body knew I didn't have the luxury of falling apart.
Lan Wangji hovered nearby, silent, his eyes moving between me and Wei Wuxian. I could feel his distrust—but also something else. Helplessness.
Minutes passed like hours. The bleeding slowed. My heart didn't.
When I finally sat back, wiping sweat from my brow, I exhaled shakily. "That should hold for now," I murmured.
Lan Wangji's gaze dropped to the scattered contents of my kit—gauze packets, sterile pads, scissors—like he was staring at alchemy.
"You are a healer?" he asked at last. "Who are you, really?"
"My name is Li Mei Lin," I said, the words sounding weirdly formal in the flickering firelight. "And I honestly don't know how I got here. I was at home, and then suddenly I was… here. In this cave. With you."
His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in calculation. "You carry strange things. Where are you from?"
I hesitated. I… I don't know if I'm even in the same world anymore.
He didn't question that. Just nodded slowly, the crease between his brows deepening.
My attention returned to Wei Wuxian. Despite everything, he was still unconscious, still pale. I'd done what I could, but without real medical help…
"We need to get him to a doctor—uh, I mean a healer," I said quickly. "Someone who knows how to treat injuries like this."
Lan Wangji lifted his hand, and the fireball rose higher, casting its glow across the full span of the cave.
That's when I saw it.
Rubble.
A lot of it.
The entrance was sealed tight, nothing but a solid wall of collapsed stone.
I felt my stomach drop. "Oh no."
"There's only one path left," Lan Wangji said quietly, nodding toward the tunnel leading deeper into the mountain.
I stared at the wall of rock. "Can your fireball… I don't know… blast it?"
Lan Wangji's expression remained calm, but there was regret in his voice. "No. If we attempt that, the cave may collapse further. It is too dangerous."
I groaned, frustration bubbling up. "So what do we do now? Just… sit here?"
"We must send word to the palace," he replied. "They will send help, whatever the cost."
Palace?
I blinked. "Wait—palace? What palace?"
He gave me a puzzled look, as if the question didn't make sense. "The palace is where we reside."
"...We?" I repeated.
"Prince Wei and I live in the palace."
I gaped at him. "Prince what?"
My brain practically short-circuited. I stared at him, mouth agape.
"Wei Wuxian's a prince now? But—no. In the drama, he's supposed to be the Yiling Patriarch! He doesn't live in a palace, he lives in exile! Or a cave. Or—somewhere not royal!"
Lan Wangji stared at me, completely lost. "I do not understand. What is this… drama you speak of?"
I shut my eyes and sighed. Of course. He had no clue what television was. No concept of fiction. In this world, Wei Wuxian wasn't a character—he was just… himself.
And this wasn't some adaptation I could pause or rewind.
This was real.
And I was in it.
A wave of unease rolled over me. Whatever this place was, whatever had pulled me here—it didn't follow any script I recognized. And these people weren't playing parts.
They were living them.
Lan Wangji met my gaze, his expression unreadable but no longer hostile. There was something in his eyes—worry, maybe. For Wei Wuxian. For me. For whatever was coming next.
I swallowed hard and looked back down at the unconscious man on the ground.
Right now, questions could wait.
We had to survive first.