The end of The Untamed was supposed to mark freedom.
Freedom from endless takes, late nights in cold fields, cramped costumes, and heavy makeup.
Instead, it was the beginning of something far more complicated.
The drama exploded like wildfire. Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo became household names overnight. Every expression, every outfit, every word was captured, replayed, dissected. Their names trended on social media constantly, often paired together in ways that made Xiao Zhan's stomach twist with both joy and fear.
But beyond the glamour, their bond grew in the shadows.
They rarely had time to rest, but they learned to communicate in stolen moments. On interview stages, they were "co-stars." But under the bright lights, their subtle language flourished. Yibo's shoulder would tilt slightly toward Zhan's, just enough to brush their arms. Zhan's laughter would soften whenever directed at him, his gaze lingering a second longer than necessary. Their hands, when they passed microphones or bottled water, would graze with the lightest of touches—too fast for cameras to confirm, too obvious for either of them to ignore.
Behind the scenes, though, their secret world was much more alive.
Yibo began riding his motorbike across the city at night, wind tearing against his jacket as if the urgency in his heart could be lessened by speed. He always ended up at Xiao Zhan's apartment. Never once did he knock—he used the spare key, and somehow Xiao Zhan was always awake waiting, a quiet lamp left on by the couch as if he knew Yibo would come.
Those nights were sacred.
Sometimes, they cooked simple meals together—no fancy recipes, just noodles with too much chili oil, or dumplings Yibo insisted on wrapping himself (badly, Zhan would tease). Other times, they sat in comfortable silence, Yibo's head on Zhan's shoulder, the older man sketching absent-mindedly in a notebook while Yibo scrolled his phone, occasionally showing him memes just to hear that laugh.
But the world outside was merciless.
Rumors spread. Accusations. Haters crawled out in swarms, and sometimes the words cut deep. Xiao Zhan bore them silently, lips pressing into a smile during the day, but Yibo saw through him at night.
One evening, the facade cracked. Xiao Zhan broke down on the couch, shoulders trembling as he whispered into Yibo's chest:
"Maybe it's too dangerous. Maybe… maybe we shouldn't do this."
Yibo froze. Not from doubt, but from the anger that surged inside him—anger at a world so cruel it would make his Zhan-ge doubt his own happiness. He cupped Xiao Zhan's face, forcing him to look up.
"Then let the world burn," Yibo said fiercely, his usually quiet voice edged with steel.
"I'm not letting you go. Never."
His lips pressed to Zhan's temple in a vow, and Xiao Zhan closed his eyes, tears spilling freely this time—not from fear, but from relief.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't safe. But it was theirs.
And for both of them, that was enough.
💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️🐢🐢🦁🐰🦁🐰🦁🐰