I didn't know how much time had passed. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly, each one blending into the next. Exhaustion eventually claimed me, and I drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Suddenly, I was jolted awake by the sound of voices echoing through the cave. The commotion was loud and frantic, filling the cavern with a sense of urgency. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and looked around in confusion.
"Hanguang-jun! Prince Wei!"
The voices grew louder, and I realized with a surge of relief that help had finally arrived. The soldiers worked quickly, clearing the cave exit with practiced efficiency. The sudden influx of people was almost overwhelming after the quiet isolation of the cave.
As the soldiers rushed in, their attention immediately turned to retrieving Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Among them was a man who exuded an aura of authority and calm strength. I recognized him instantly—Lan Xichen.
So THIS is the Lan General. My heart skipped a beat in surprise. Seeing him in the flesh was even more surreal than encountering Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.
Oh my God, that's Lan Xichen! I thought, my mind reeling. The calm and composed leader of the Lan Sect, right here in front of me.
Lan Xichen's gaze swept over the cave, landing on me. His eyes narrowed as he took in my appearance, clearly puzzled by the sight of my modern clothes.
"Who is this?" he demanded, his voice carrying a note of suspicion.
Before I could explain, two soldiers moved to capture me, their grips firm and unyielding.
"Wait, let me go—" I began to protest.
"Zewu-jun, we don't know who she is," one of the soldiers said. "Take her into custody until we can determine her intentions." His tone was sharp and commanding.
Panic surged through me as they bound my hands, my heart racing.
"Wait, hang on! Let me go!" I insisted, my voice rising in desperation. "Please, you have to believe me!"
Lan Wangji, who had been supporting Wei Wuxian, turned sharply at my words.
"Brother, wait," he said firmly, his tone brooking no dissent. "She helped us. She saved Prince Wei's life."
Lan Xichen looked between Lan Wangji and me, his expression softening slightly but still wary.
"Explain," he commanded, his gaze fixed on me.
With a deep breath, I recounted the events that had led to our current situation, emphasizing my attempts to aid Wei Wuxian and my inadvertent arrival in their world. Lan Wangji nodded in agreement, vouching for my sincerity and intentions.
Lan Xichen considered this for a moment before nodding to the soldiers.
"Release her," he ordered.
The soldiers complied, and I rubbed my wrists, relief flooding through me.
"Thank you," I said, my voice shaky with a mix of emotions. "I really am just trying to help."
Lan Xichen gave me a small, reassuring smile. "You have my gratitude," he said. "But we must move quickly. We need to get Prince Wei to safety and proper medical care."
Once we were out of the cave and loaded into the carriage bound for the palace, I finally got a proper look at the world I'd landed in.
And that's when the full weight of it hit me.
This wasn't just some random forest with elaborate cosplay energy.
This was not my world.
Not even close.
Outside the tiny window, the landscape unfolded like a living ink scroll. Rolling hills draped in mist and morning dew stretched out beneath a sky tinged with soft strokes of lavender and gold. Ancient willow trees dipped their fingers into a slow, winding river that cut through the valley like a painter's brush.
Traditional wooden houses, the kind I'd only seen on field trips or in dramas, clustered along the banks in tidy harmony. Their tiled roofs curved like phoenix wings, perfectly weathered by time and rain. Farmers in wide-brimmed hats moved through jade-colored rice paddies, and temples crowned distant hills, their golden rooftops catching the sun like fire.
It was stunning.
It was unreal.
And it confirmed every terrifying suspicion that had been gnawing at the back of my mind since I woke up in that cursed cave.
I was in ancient China.
Or a version of it. One dipped in fantasy, smoothed by cinematography, and ruled by the laws of cultivation, danger, and heartbreak.
A real-life historical drama—minus the cameras, and with a very real chance of dying in a field somewhere.
The carriage jolted, breaking me out of the daze, and for a moment panic surged again.
How am I going to get back?
My thoughts spiraled faster than the wheels turning beneath me. Where am I? Is this a hidden realm? A parallel timeline? Is there even a way out?
I pressed my hand to my chest, as if I could steady my racing heart through sheer pressure. I tried to remember every story I'd ever read, every isekai drama I'd binge-watched. People like me—girls accidentally transported into other worlds—usually had some magic token, some family heirloom or cursed book or inexplicable lightning bolt.
I had… a first aid kit. And some half-melted protein bars.
Not exactly the stuff of legend.
The "maybe I'm in a coma" theory was still hanging on by a thread, but the pain, the cold, the smell of burning herbs and sweat and horse leather—it all felt too real.
I pinched my arm again, just to be sure.
Ow.
Still here.
I turned my gaze back toward the carriage interior. Lan Wangji sat opposite me, his composure as polished as ever, though the faint tension in his jaw gave him away. His gaze stayed fixed on Wei Wuxian, who lay with his head resting on a folded robe, face pale but breathing steady.
Outside, the soldiers marched alongside us with choreographed discipline, as if the entire rescue had been just another day on the job. Meanwhile, I sat across from two living legends, trying not to have a breakdown in silk robes.
I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. My mind kept spinning, looping through every impossible explanation.
Portal? Magical scroll? Cultivation gone wrong? Divine punishment for reading too much fanfic?
The possibilities were infinite. And not one of them came with instructions on how to leave.
Lan Wangji's voice pulled me out of the spiral.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
I looked up, startled. His tone was calm, but I could hear the concern woven beneath it.
I forced a small smile. "I'm... managing," I said, which was true in the same way that a duck "manages" by paddling frantically beneath the surface while trying not to scream.
"It's just… a lot to take in," I added, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts.
He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary, then gave a slow, measured nod. No platitudes. No comfort. Just that steady, grounding silence.
Somehow, it helped more than words.
I turned my face back toward the window, pretending to be fascinated by a distant temple, but the truth was simpler.
I was trying not to cry.