The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 1

In late winter, Linjiang City was rarely graced with snow. Feather-like snowflakes danced through the biting wind all day, finally ceasing only at nightfall.

In a high-rise building near the subway entrance, a young woman in a cream-colored fleece pajama set stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, her eyes were vacant as she gazed at the glittering skyscrapers outside.

After resting her eyes, she brushed aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her right shoulder, drew the curtains, and slumped into her swivel chair at the nearby computer desk with an air of utter despair. Donning her black-framed glasses, she opened her author’s dashboard, navigated to the comments section of her latest chapter, and began reading them one by one.

Even though she hadn’t updated for several days, the comments section exploded within half an hour of posting the new chapter.

Readers who had cheered her on in the previous chapter, believing she could salvage the plot, were now giving negative reviews and abandoning the story.

[I’m done. I waited three days for some kind of divine twist.]

[The protagonist can’t beat the villain, so you just make the villain disappear? Seriously?!]

[I guess there might be a twist coming, but right now it looks like the author’s given up.]

[I remember someone saying in the last chapter that the only way to end this was for the villain to disappear. Is the author just writing based on the comments section now?]

Some readers still clung to a sliver of hope, but their comments were quickly drowned out by the torrent of criticism.

After skimming through the comments, Yin Ya closed the page and let out a long sigh.

She knew she had messed up.

Originally, this was supposed to be a straightforward, sweet romance novel. For the first thirty thousand words, the entire early and mid-sections, she had stayed on track.

Her mistake was becoming too attached to the book’s villain, Cang Lanyan.

A spiritual pearl formed from the tears of countless Mermen, absorbing the essence of the sun and moon, emerged from the sacred tree of the sea. This fairy, born connected to the tree, erected a barrier that transformed the South Sea, the ancestral home of the Mermen into a peaceful sanctuary untouched by war.

When she turned three hundred years old and transformed into human form, she officially became the guardian deity of the Merman race, revered and worshiped by her people.

For the next millennium, Cang Lanyan tirelessly protected the Merman race. Every action she took, whether slaughtering enemies or conquering cities, was solely for the benefit of her people.

Yin Ya had long wanted to write a character burdened with such a destiny and responsibility. However, she doubted her writing skills were up to the task of making such a character a compelling protagonist. Thus, she decided to introduce Cang Lanyan as a late-stage villain with limited screen time.

Initially, Yin Ya had only intended to write a simple, sweet romance. But to her surprise, the book achieved unexpected success.

As the protagonists’ daily sweet romance unfolded, more and more readers became hooked on the sugary plot. Collections and revenue soared, and Yin Ya began to get carried away just by watching the daily earnings.

However, her original outline couldn’t sustain the growing word count. To extend the story, she needed to find ways to add more plot.

Tired of writing the protagonists’ saccharine routines, Yin Ya turned her attention to the newly introduced villain, Cang Lanyan.

She began adding all sorts of melodramatic tropes to Cang Lanyan, transforming her into a “beautiful, powerful, and tragic” villain with a devastating past and a lonely existence. With a final flourish, she bestowed upon her the heaven-defying cheat of immortality, then orchestrated her rise to power, turning her from a reclusive guardian deity into a war god feared by all.

None of this would have been a problem if she could have created a villain with depth and complexity, one that readers would both love and hate.

The real issue was that she had developed the plot without any idea how to resolve it. She couldn’t figure out how the protagonist could defeat an immortal villain without the story ending in a complete mess.

To put it bluntly, her brainpower wasn’t up to the task. She couldn’t write a grand, logical plot that matched the scale of her character design.

Worse still, because she had devoted so much attention to developing the villain, the story had now progressed to the point where the protagonist had no time for romance. Forced to pick up arms, he had to confront the villain’s deadly threat head-on.

Faced with this wildly diverging plot, Yin Ya racked her brains for days, struggling with writer’s block. The best solution she could come up with was to have the villain temporarily disappear!

After closing her browser, Yin Ya couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation as she gazed at Cang Lanyan on her desktop wallpaper.

To be honest, she had poured her heart and soul into creating Cang Lanyan. To her, this character felt as real as if she had truly lived.

She had even commissioned numerous illustrations from artists, selecting the one that best captured Cang Lanyan’s essence as her computer wallpaper.

In the painting, Cang Lanyan’s snow-white, slightly wavy hair cascaded like a waterfall, partially concealing her pale, fish-fin-shaped ears. She wore a sky-blue silk gauze robe, her hands forming a mudra as she stood barefoot on the crest of a wave. Her amber eyes were serene and unwavering, her expression radiating an innate majesty, as she gazed back at Yin Ya with a flawless, almost sacred purity.

Yet both her arms and wrists were adorned with intricately openwork metal rings, connected by delicate copper chains—more like shackles than mere ornaments.

Yin Ya felt as if she had placed shackles on herself.

If she hadn’t been so timid and hesitant, so afraid of this and that, and had simply written Cang Lanyan as the protagonist from the start, perhaps she wouldn’t be struggling so much now.

Just then, the fluorescent light overhead began to flicker, accompanied by a faint buzzing sound.

Yin Ya looked up at the flickering fluorescent light, wondering if it was about to fail. The next moment, the room plunged into darkness, leaving only the glow of her computer screen.

Frowning, she rose and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains. Outside, the world was pitch-black, and all sounds had ceased. It seemed like a widespread power outage.

In the dead of winter and the middle of the night, even with emergency repairs, it was impossible to know when the power would return.

Better hurry and wash up while the air conditioning is still warm. Then fill a hot water bottle and go to bed!

She closed the curtains, shut down her computer, grabbed her phone, and switched on the flashlight, hurrying toward the bathroom.

Yin Ya slid open the bathroom door and shone the flashlight inside. The beam illuminated the silhouette of a woman.

Snow-white hair cascaded down the woman’s body like a waterfall.

Yin Ya froze, thinking she must be mistaken. She blinked and looked again, but the woman remained in place—sitting in her bathtub?!

Even as Yin Ya stared in astonishment, the woman slowly rose, gracefully stepped out of the tub, and placed her bare feet on the icy tile floor. She glanced up at Yin Ya, then began walking toward her, step by step.

Clink—

A crisp metallic clang echoed through the silent bathroom. The woman’s gaze remained serene, her snow-white hair swaying without wind. A ribbon coiled around her arm, its eerie blue glow flickering gently as she moved.

With each step, a stream of blue light rose from beneath her feet, vanishing almost instantly.

Despite the bitter winter, she wore only a thin, pale gauze robe, its sheer fabric revealing glimpses of her skin beneath, accentuating her soft, graceful curves.

When Yin Ya met the woman’s amber eyes, she instantly felt an invisible pressure envelop her.

Overwhelmed by an unknown terror, Yin Ya instinctively struggled, only to find herself completely immobilized.

Her mind reeling in chaos, Yin Ya felt utterly lost.

This must be a dream, she thought.

Why else would a stranger I’ve never seen before be in my rented apartment, complete with all these bizarre special effects?

Wait… her attire looks strangely familiar, especially those armlets and bracelets connected by copper chains, like shackles…

Yin Ya’s eyes widened in realization.

Am I dreaming that the missing villain from the novel has crossed over into reality?!

The next moment, a strand of hair brushed against her neck, soft and cool. A faint, peculiar fragrance drifted into her nostrils, reminiscent of sea salt-flavored mint toothpaste.

The woman before her, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Cang Lanyan, gazed down at her with lowered eyes. She reached out, her fingers pressing against Yin Ya’s chin, forcing her to tilt her head slightly upward.

The woman’s fingers were icy cold, and her sharp nails scraped against Yin Ya’s skin, causing a slight sting.

“Where is this place?”

The voice washed over Yin Ya’s ears like a gentle tide. Though authoritative and cold, it didn’t sound like a command, but rather an irresistible enchantment.

Yin Ya instantly thought of the sirens from Greek mythology. Her mind went blank, yet her lips moved involuntarily. “This is my home.”

The woman paused, then asked, “Who are you?”

Yin Ya instinctively resisted the feeling of being forced to answer, clenching her jaw tightly.

But the next moment, her mouth opened against her will. “Yin Ya.”

Their eyes met. Yin Ya glimpsed confusion on the woman’s face, along with a hint of displeasure. Then, the woman’s icy fingers pressed against her wrist, gently probing as if taking her pulse.

Yin Ya shivered from the cold. Just then, a frigid gust of wind swept through the crack in the bathroom window, jolting her chaotic thoughts into a semblance of clarity.

But this newfound clarity instantly plunged her into fresh panic.

From the itching and pain to the biting cold, every sensation felt overwhelmingly real. She had never experienced such a vivid dream before.

Just because I haven’t experienced something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, but… what if?

What if this isn’t a dream? What if Cang Lanyan has truly crossed over from the book and is standing right in front of me…?

If not for the woman’s complete control over her body and voice, Yin Ya would have screamed.

It was true that she adored Cang Lanyan, but a fictional character was fundamentally different from a real person! Moreover, Cang Lanyan was a ruthless, cold-blooded villain who killed without hesitation!

But if this was real, what should she do? What could she do?

With a single move from Cang Lanyan, she would be paralyzed!

Before Yin Ya’s frantically racing mind could devise a plan, she saw the woman’s lips curve into a faint smile.

“Afraid of me?” the woman asked.

Yin Ya couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, but the woman’s tone seemed softer than before.

Yet the fear and panic in her heart remained intense. Terrified, she found herself compelled to speak the truth against her will: “I-I’m absolutely terrified.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Yin Ya suddenly felt a wave of relief. The oppressive force vanished, and the woman withdrew her fingers from Yin Ya’s chin.

Caught off guard, Yin Ya’s legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground with a thud. The phone she had been using as a flashlight clattered beside her.

Before she could pick it up, she felt a hand supporting her arm, pulling her to her feet.

“My name is Cang Lanyan,” the woman said gently, her face was half-hidden in shadow under the phone’s dim light.

“I am a guardian deity. Don’t be afraid.”

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