The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 33

For the first time in her life, Yin Ya regretted her keen observational skills.

She hadn’t written in the story that Cang Lanyan had a symbiotic jellyfish, nor did she understand what that jellyfish meant to Cang Lanyan. All she knew was that Cang Lanyan definitely didn’t want her to discover it, which was why she had repeatedly kept her outside, preventing her from seeing her disheveled state.

Looking at her hands, Yin Ya felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, unsure of what to do.

Pretending ignorance would respect Cang Lanyan’s choice, but it would also leave her feeling guilty and uneasy.

Even if this was just a test Cang Lanyan had deliberately set up, with Yin Ya being the one kept in the dark, now that she had noticed something, she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

Lost in thought, she suddenly felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

“Can I listen?” Cen Xiang asked, stepping closer.

“This is really hard to explain,” Yin Ya said, her face falling.

“It’s okay. Tell me as much as you’re comfortable with,” Cen Xiang encouraged her.

“Basically, Cang Lanyan created a jellyfish using her Spiritual Power. It might be for spying on me, but because it was so cute, I couldn’t help… squeezing it a few times,” Yin Ya whispered.

“So you only just realized something was off with that jellyfish?” Cen Xiang asked. “You thought you were just playing with a Spiritual Power Jellyfish, but actually… her senses are connected to the jellyfish’s?”

Cen Xiang’s guess was too accurate. Yin Ya fell silent, her face flushing as she lowered her head.

“She’s sick! What does she even want from you?!” Cen Xiang couldn’t help but curse. “Using a cute jellyfish to trick you into playing with her?! What kind of ultimate OOC Major Antagonist is this?!”

“But I don’t think she did it on purpose,” Yin Ya said softly. “The jellyfish seems to have its own mind, beyond her control. I saw it with my own eyes…”

“Ya-zai!” Cen Xiang interrupted, exasperated. “You need to stand up for yourself! She’s forcing you to be gay, do you understand?”

The moment her sexuality was mentioned, Yin Ya fell silent again.

Her silence made Cen Xiang swallow the rest of her lecture. She gently patted Yin Ya’s back and changed the subject. “Is the jellyfish something outside the original story?”

Yin Ya nodded absently, then shook her head. “If it were just the jellyfish, I actually did write about it in her backstory.”

Before coming of age, Cang Lanyan lived in the deep sea for three hundred years. Because she was so lonely and her elders were so strict, she began making friends with the sea creatures near her home.

These creatures lacked intelligence. To the Merfolk, they were no different from grazing sheep or roadside weeds and wildflowers. No one would interfere with a child talking to a sheep or a flower.

Cang Lanyan’s favorite “friends” were the jellyfish.

But Yin Ya knew these were just childhood preferences. After the tragic coming-of-age ceremony, Cang Lanyan left the deep sea, bidding farewell to all her jellyfish friends.

From then on, her emotions seemed to fade, as if sealed away by some secret Merfolk spell.

“…So, you still haven’t named that spell?” Cen Xiang couldn’t help but ask after Yin Ya finished explaining the backstory.

“Because it’s not important,” Yin Ya murmured, her voice barely audible. “These are just flashback details, and they don’t involve the main character. They won’t be used in the main story, and readers who dislike Cang Lanyan won’t care about them. I only need to describe the spell’s effects, not the exact process of casting it.”

“But right now, you need to figure out if this spell has anything to do with the jellyfish,” Cen Xiang sighed. “I finally understand what they mean by ‘the setting automatically corrects and fills itself in.’ It seems the situations transmigrators face are the same ones the characters they transmigrate into will encounter.”

Yin Ya couldn’t argue with that. As she looked away, her gaze instinctively drifted to the tightly closed bathroom door.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back now,” Cen Xiang glanced at the time. “Your Major Antagonist is really jealous of a fish. I’m afraid if she wakes up and sees me here, she’ll freeze me again!”

Yin Ya snapped out of her thoughts, recalling the death glare Cang Lanyan had given her after freezing her yesterday. She involuntarily shuddered.

She didn’t know what she was feeling as she saw Cen Xiang off. After the door closed, she dragged a chair into the bathroom and sat by the bathtub.

Staring at Cang Lanyan, still unconscious and wrapped in a down jacket, Yin Ya fell into deep thought.

For Cang Lanyan, emotions might be the only thing she couldn’t control. That’s probably why she chose to use a secret technique to suppress her seven emotions and six desires years ago.

Could it be… that she stored her severed emotions inside the jellyfish?

But jellyfish lack intelligence and cannot speak. They possess almost no self-awareness, living primarily on instinct. Though their tentacles carry potent venom, they are fundamentally fragile and pure creatures.

A powerful Innate God like Cang Lanyan would never store her severed emotions in such a weak vessel, would she?

Unless she considered those emotions unimportant, easily discarded at any time. In that case, choosing a jellyfish she trusted and cherished as a container might make sense.

Yet why would the jellyfish, as a mere vessel, share her emotions?

This was an impossible scenario. If true, it would expose a fatal weakness: controlling the jellyfish would mean controlling Cang Lanyan herself!

Yin Ya couldn’t make sense of it. She could only cast a puzzled glance at Cang Lanyan.

Just then, she saw the “Sleeping Beauty Fish” in the bathtub slowly open its eyes.

“Cang Lanyan!” Despite the lingering questions in her mind, Yin Ya couldn’t help calling out. She braced her hands on the tub’s edge, leaning halfway over. “How are you feeling? Is anything still bothering you?”

Perhaps still groggy from waking up, Cang Lanyan’s gaze was somewhat dazed. After a few seconds, she murmured, “The clothes are heavy.”

Yin Ya immediately removed the down jacket covering her and hung it on the coat rack outside.

When Yin Ya returned to the bathroom, Cang Lanyan had already transformed her fishtail back into legs and redonned her sky-blue silk gauze robe. Even the bloodstains on her hair had been meticulously cleaned away in that short time.

“Shall I help you to the bedroom to rest?” Yin Ya tentatively reached out her hand.

Cang Lanyan shook her head. Before Yin Ya could speak again, she dissolved into a shimmering shadow and vanished into the bathtub.

Startled, Yin Ya hurried to the bedroom. She found Cang Lanyan already lying on the lower bunk, her eyes closed. Only then did Yin Ya breathe a sigh of relief, though anxiety quickly returned.

She desperately wanted to apologize for the Jellyfish incident, but when the words reached her lips, none seemed appropriate.

“Is there anything you wish to ask me?” Cang Lanyan suddenly asked.

Yin Ya let out a short “Ah,” hesitated, and finally sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What caused the unconsciousness and bleeding?” Yin Ya asked cautiously, deliberately avoiding mentioning the jellyfish. “Would you tell me?”

“I was testing a spell,” Cang Lanyan replied, her voice still faint, without opening her eyes. “The bleeding was a side effect. As for the unconsciousness, that was unexpected.”

“Then next time you want to test a spell, please tell me beforehand,” Yin Ya pleaded softly. “Otherwise… otherwise I’ll be really scared.”

“What’s there to be scared of?” Cang Lanyan countered.

Yin Ya’s heart skipped a beat, a sudden, inexplicable feeling that Cang Lanyan had discovered something again.

But Cang Lanyan seemed genuinely weak right now. Even her usual tactic of pressing for answers step by step was absent.

After a moment’s thought, Yin Ya asked, “Cang Lanyan, is there anything you want to eat? We’re out of mint, so I was planning to go out and buy some. I could also pick up some cooked food while I’m out.”

“Didn’t we not finish the braised pork liver and beef?” Cang Lanyan countered.

“If you want something else, that’s fine too,” Yin Ya said. “We have a fridge, so cooked food will keep for a few days.”

Cang Lanyan shook her head, anticipating Yin Ya’s next question. “You don’t need to go out just for me,” she said quickly.

That Old Spirit is so cunning! Yin Ya thought, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Even when she’s feeling this awful, she hasn’t forgotten to “see through” me!

But Yin Ya kept her voice even. “Then for dinner, do you want takeout or something I make?”

“Neither,” Cang Lanyan said softly. “Just make something for yourself. I need to rest for a few more hours.”

Sensing Cang Lanyan’s reluctance to talk, Yin Ya nodded. “Then I won’t bother you. Call me if you need anything.”

As she left the bedroom and was about to close the door, Yin Ya paused. She went back to the desk, grabbed the spare phone, and placed it by Cang Lanyan’s pillow.

“If you don’t feel like talking, you can text me,” she said. “I downloaded some apps for watching videos and reading novels. If you’re interested, you can try them out.”

Cang Lanyan didn’t respond, and Yin Ya didn’t expect her to. After giving her instructions, Yin Ya left.

As Yin Ya’s footsteps faded and the door closed, Cang Lanyan opened her eyes and pressed a hand to her violently pounding chest.

Since merging with her “self,” she felt unfamiliar emotions surging within her, growing increasingly intense, like an undercurrent beneath a calm sea, impossible to suppress.

Memories of what she had seen and heard while unconscious now flooded her mind.

Her coma hadn’t completely shut down her senses; at least her sense of touch remained partially intact.

She knew she must have lost a lot of blood, yet her face had been wiped clean. This must have been something the God did in a moment of panic and confusion, the bloodstained tissues in the trash can serving as proof.

Before the merging, she would have dismissed the God’s actions as incomprehensible. Now, however, she found herself unconsciously trying to recall the sensations of that time, from the God’s fingertips lightly brushing her face as she wiped away the blood, to the faint impressions left on her skin when the God tried to move her.

Was this the allure of the divine self? Now, even hearing the God speak made it difficult for her to maintain her composure.

The voice was like heavenly music, gently caressing her ears, considerate and tender. It filled her with a sense of peace, yet she couldn’t help but yearn to hear more, regardless of the words themselves.

Still, this wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

A God harboring secrets would naturally avoid excessive contact with her. If she chose to maintain her distance to control these emotions, it might actually lower the God’s guard, prompting them to reveal more information.

Even so, she was determined to master these unfamiliar emotions as quickly as possible.

The frail yet wary human God, now magnified by these emotions, seemed like a peerless treasure buried deep in the ocean. She felt an overwhelming desire to possess it, to linger in those depths forever, never wanting to leave.

This was absurd and ridiculous. She had long escaped the deep sea and could never allow herself to be imprisoned there again.

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