The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 3

The text reappeared on the page, as if mocking Yin Ya’s helplessness.

While Cang Lanyan was still outside, Yin Ya, undeterred by her failed attempt, devised another plan. She opened her writing software, pulled up her outline, and swiftly typed a line at the end:

“The missing Cang Lanyan is encountering extraordinary adventures in an unknown dimension. After enduring countless trials, she finally returns to the world of the book.”

Just as she hit the save button, a “Save Failed” window popped up.

Yin Ya frowned deeply, closed the window, and tried replacing “returns” with “recognizes” before saving again.

The “Save Successful” notification seared her eyes.

Naturally, Yin Ya refused to give up, but she was truly powerless at this point.

She was just an ordinary person who wrote stories, lacking magical abilities or any divine power as a “creator god.”

After encountering a supernatural phenomenon beyond scientific explanation, her attempt to send the Big Villain back by revising the text was nothing more than wishful thinking.

Hearing movement behind the tightly closed door, Yin Ya quickly placed her phone and glasses in the storage basket on the railing, clutched her hot water bottle, and closed her eyes.

She couldn’t let the Big Villain notice she was writing!

Moments later, she heard a faint “ding-a-ling” sound and caught Cang Lanyan’s subtle, refreshing scent—remarkably similar to the mint sea salt toothpaste she loved and used daily.

But accompanying this refreshing fragrance was a bone-chilling wind, swirling around her forehead before slipping through the gaps in the quilt and burrowing into her bedding.

Yin Ya instinctively curled up, clinging tightly to the only warmth in the bed.

Hearing movement from the lower bunk, she finally dared to open her eyes. Her gaze met the wide-open bedroom door, and she nearly gasped.

The Big Villain might not fear the cold, but she did!

Yin Ya didn’t dare ask the Big Villain to close the door. Instead, she fished out her glasses from the storage basket, put them on, and climbed out of bed to shut the door.

The moment she landed, she felt a gaze fixed on her. Turning instinctively, she met a pair of glowing amber eyes.

Yin Ya: “……”

Can your glowing special effect even be applied to your eyes?

She cleared her throat. “I’m just closing the door. I’m going back to sleep.”

The residual warmth in the hallway had nearly dissipated. Clad only in her nightgown, Yin Ya didn’t dare linger. She closed the door, quickly padded back to the bed in her cotton slippers, and scrambled up to the upper bunk, burrowing under the quilt.

Just as she reached for the hot water bottle, she heard Cang Lanyan ask, “Are you afraid of the cold?”

Yin Ya hummed in acknowledgment, hesitating over whether to say more. Suddenly, a streak of blue light ascended from below. Before she could react, the light scattered, showering her with specks of fluorescent dust that nearly engulfed the upper bunk.

Yin Ya: ???

She didn’t know what spell Cang Lanyan had cast. Huddled under her covers, she watched in a mix of surprise and curiosity as the glowing particles fell and vanished.

She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, but she felt the air around her growing warmer, as if a warm current were enveloping her.

Is Cang Lanyan warming me?

The thought surprised Yin Ya, but upon reflection, it wasn’t entirely out of character. Since Cang Lanyan claimed to be a Guardian God, warming a devout believer should be part of her divine duties.

“Thank you, Lord God,” Yin Ya said sincerely, regardless of Cang Lanyan’s intentions.

“Sleep now,” Cang Lanyan’s voice echoed softly.

Yin Ya had intended to politely say “goodnight,” but as soon as she heard those words, her eyelids grew heavy, and her consciousness faded.

She had never slept so deeply before, without a single dream. It wasn’t until 9 a.m. the next morning that a gentle, soothing alarm finally woke her.

The thick curtains blocked out the sunlight, and the dim lighting and chilly air in the bedroom made it hard to get out of bed.

Yin Ya picked up her phone, turned off the alarm, and out of habit, ordered breakfast delivery, leaving the receipt on the door. She then closed her sleepy eyes and went back to bed.

It wasn’t until she heard the bedroom door open and the aroma of scallion oil noodles wafted in that she opened her eyes again. She lazily peeked out and saw a head of loose white hair.

Three seconds later, all traces of sleepiness vanished. Yin Ya shrank back into the bed, shrieking, “Ghost—!!”

Terrified, she didn’t even put on her glasses to get a better look. She grabbed the hot water bottle in her arms and hurled it forward.

The water bottle hung suspended in mid-air. A familiar, cool female voice came from below, tinged with amusement: “I’m not a ghost.”

If you’re not a ghost, then what the hell are you?!

Yin Ya roared inwardly, her back pressed against the wall. The shock lasted nearly half a minute before she remembered the inconceivable event from the previous night.

So…

The “ghost” standing in her bedroom right now was none other than Cang Lanyan, the Big Villain from her novel.

Sleeping hadn’t changed anything; the Big Villain was still here, proof of the impossible.

Though unwilling to believe or face it, Yin Ya took several deep breaths, quickly crawled back to retrieve her glasses and put them on, then grabbed her phone and climbed out of bed.

As she got up, she noticed Cang Lanyan controlling the hot water bottle, making it slowly descend onto the bedside table.

“Good morning, Lord God,” Yin Ya greeted, standing straight. Her voice still trembled involuntarily, but she forced herself to explain, “I have a vision impairment. I hadn’t put on my glasses when I woke up, so I didn’t recognize you…”

Cang Lanyan was still dressed in her “cool” attire from last night: a sheer, gauzy outfit that barely concealed her skin, and bare feet stepping on the wooden floor. From appearances alone, it seemed the winter chill hadn’t affected her at all.

“Glasses?” Yin Ya was still lost in thought when Cang Lanyan asked.

In the world of Yin Ya’s writing, “glasses” hadn’t yet appeared as an anachronistic item. Hearing Cang Lanyan’s question, she hastily removed her glasses and explained, “These are glasses. They help people with nearsightedness… or other vision impairments see clearly.”

“May I examine them?” Cang Lanyan asked.

Yin Ya was about to nod when the tantalizing aroma of noodle salad, which had been persistently invading her nostrils, finally awakened her appetite. A peculiar gurgling sound emerged from her stomach.

She had long noticed the overwhelming aroma of the scallion oil noodles—Cang Lanyan was holding a plastic bag containing a takeout box, the greasy plastic handles looped around her slender, pale fingers. The sight felt deeply incongruous.

But she hadn’t dared ask why Cang Lanyan was bringing her breakfast into the bedroom.

Yin Ya was still bewildered when Cang Lanyan raised her hand.

“Someone left food outside earlier. I brought it in while I was passing by,” she explained calmly.

Yin Ya immediately expressed her gratitude, took the takeout, and cautiously asked, “May I go wash up first?”

After receiving Cang Lanyan’s permission, she placed the takeout on the bedside table and fled the bedroom as if escaping a danger zone.

The electricity was back, and the electric water heater in the bathroom was functioning normally, but Yin Ya splashed cold water on her face to fully wake her groggy mind and get it running at full speed.

Today was February 23rd, and school would start again in just a few days.

As a third-year literature student, Yin Ya’s course load for the semester wasn’t particularly heavy. But now, with Cang Lanyan around, she felt like she’d been saddled with a whole new pile of unknown troubles.

Even though she believed she understood all the character’s background and traits, the vast power gap made it impossible for her to do anything or prevent anything. Therefore, she had no way of knowing when trouble would come knocking.

Since she couldn’t actively send Cang Lanyan away, Yin Ya needed to figure out as soon as possible, before the holiday ended, whether Cang Lanyan could still return to the book.

If Cang Lanyan had to stay here, Yin Ya would have to accept the fact that this Big Villain would be living permanently in her home.

After all, she was unwilling and afraid to kick someone out. It would be like releasing a serial killer with abnormal thinking from prison. No one could predict what he might do.

Although Cang Lanyan was indeed a Guardian God, she was still a demon, not a human, and might not follow the established laws of human society.

As for calling the police… aside from the risk of being considered insane herself, if there really was an “Abnormal Creature Observation Bureau” or similar organization, Yin Ya, as the author, would undoubtedly be taken away for observation as well, possibly losing her freedom.

After finishing her thoughts, Yin Ya wiped her face, put on her glasses, and opened the bathroom door to walk out.

Cang Lanyan was already sitting on the sofa, two fingers that had held the takeout box submerged in a water sphere, presumably cleaning the grease.

Yin Ya still couldn’t figure out why Cang Lanyan would help her with the takeout.

But there was no point in asking such a question. Perhaps the Big Villain was in a good mood and did it casually.

To get information out of her as quickly as possible, Yin Ya naturally picked up the takeout from the table, sat across from Cang Lanyan, placed the food on the coffee table, checked its temperature, and glanced at the wall clock.

Cang Lanyan must have used another spell. Despite being left out for so long, the noodles were still hot.

“Would you like to try human-style noodles?” Yin Ya asked, starting to unwrap the takeout.

Cang Lanyan shook her head. With a flick of her finger, the water droplet surrounding her fingertip floated into the empty glass on the coffee table.

The two glasses from last night remained on the table. One was empty, the other still full.

Yin Ya didn’t wear her glasses while eating. After mixing the sauce with the noodles, she casually removed her glasses and set them on the coffee table. She picked up a large forkful of noodles and stuffed it into her mouth, chewing rapidly with her cheeks puffed out.

Before long, she felt a gaze fixed on her, lingering without moving.

Under Cang Lanyan’s unblinking stare, Yin Ya found it hard to eat properly. Unconsciously, she became more restrained with each bite, her mood growing increasingly sour.

Just as she was about to protest, Cang Lanyan finally shifted her attention away.

First, she picked up Yin Ya’s glasses from the table, examining them and running her fingers over the lenses. Then, with a subtle gesture, she summoned a stream of briny water from the glass. Following her guidance, the water slowly washed the entire pair of glasses.

It was like watching a magic trick.

Yin Ya couldn’t help but be drawn in, watching curiously as Cang Lanyan toyed with her glasses.

After removing the last droplet of water from the lenses, Cang Lanyan didn’t set them down. Instead, she casually put them on her own face.

Yin Ya hadn’t expected her to be so mischievous, and by the time she realized it, it was too late.

****

Two seconds later, she watched Cang Lanyan close her eyes, frown deeply, and remove the glasses, a puzzled look on her face.

Yin Ya quickly explained in a hushed voice, “My eyesight is very unusual. Anyone else wearing my glasses will get dizzy and disoriented.”

After all, I have severe nearsightedness and astigmatism, she thought.

Cang Lanyan hummed nonchalantly, still holding the glasses, her slender nails tapping lightly against the lenses. “This is quite intriguing.”

Yin Ya’s heart leaped—whenever Cang Lanyan said this in the original text, it meant she was about to claim something for herself.

But moments later, she saw Cang Lanyan fold the glasses and return them to their original place, her expression unchanged.

Noticing Cang Lanyan’s gaze lingering on her again, Yin Ya unconsciously sped up her breakfast, wolfing down the noodles, quickly tidying the takeout box, turning on the heater, and sitting upright before Cang Lanyan, still draped in her coat.

“I wanted to ask you a very important question,” Yin Ya said.

“Ask away,” Cang Lanyan nodded.

“Last night, you mentioned staying here for a while,” Yin Ya said, looking directly into her eyes. “Forgive my boldness, but… are you planning to travel through the Human Realm, or… do you intend to settle here permanently?”

Worried that Cang Lanyan might misunderstand, she quickly added, “It’s just that the difference between short-term and long-term stays is significant. If you’re certain you’ll be staying long-term, I need to prepare more—humans require periodic registration of residents.”

Cang Lanyan didn’t immediately answer. After a moment of contemplation, she said firmly, “I believe I will be staying for quite some time.”

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