The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 4

Yin Ya just realized that her understanding of the characters in her story was incomplete.

All she knew was what she had written. Even though she was clear about Cang Lanyan’s background and experiences, that was only a part of what made up the character “Cang Lanyan.”

For example, she never imagined Cang Lanyan would choose to stay of her own volition.

As the Guardian God of the Merman Clan, having accidentally been transported to another world, logic and sentiment both dictated that she should do everything possible to return as soon as possible.

Unless… she had already set a new goal.

This suspicion gave Yin Ya a major scare.

This was clearly an unknown world. Apart from finding a way back, what other goal could the Big Villain possibly have? Could she be searching for the person who created her?!

A chill ran down Yin Ya’s spine, but before fear could fully take hold, she secretly pinched herself, forcing her emotions back down. She offered Cang Lanyan a friendly smile. “Why don’t you stay with me for now? Once you’re more familiar with the Human Realm, if you need a different arrangement, I’ll help you find another place to stay. How does that sound?”

Cang Lanyan nodded, her interest piqued. “Do all humans treat gods like this?”

Yin Ya paused, unsure what the Big Villain was referring to. After a moment’s thought, she cautiously replied, “Not necessarily. Modern humans have very free minds. While religion exists, many people firmly believe there are no gods or spirits in the world.”

Due to their vastly different backgrounds, she couldn’t explain much more to Cang Lanyan for now, only trying to clarify things using language the goddess might understand.

At this point, she seized the opportunity to suggest, “To avoid trouble, it’s best to appear as an ordinary person when you go out, and your attire should… be as appropriate to the season as possible.”

Though she made the suggestion, Yin Ya harbored no real hope. In fact, she had already resigned herself to the situation.

If this thousand-year-old demon refused to cooperate, she truly had no other options.

“If there are so many who don’t believe in gods, why should I reveal my true form in public?” Cang Lanyan’s voice remained calm, yet it carried an innate arrogance.

Her words struck Yin Ya. She realized her previous reasoning had been flawed. Cang Lanyan was a Guardian God of the Demon Race, fundamentally different from the mortal characters in novels who traveled through time.

She felt a strange sense of relief and nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”

Come to think of it, if the Big Villain didn’t want to show her face in public, she didn’t even need an ID card. After all, any purchases she made would be paid for by her anyway.

The matter Yin Ya had feared the most had been resolved so quickly, and the Big Villain’s attention had already shifted to the air conditioner, which was now blowing warm air.

“This is a heating artifact used by our Human Clan,” Yin Ya explained hurriedly. “It needs to be connected to an electrical source to work. Electricity is a form of energy—think of it as the heat you get from burning fire, the kind that can cook food. You can’t see or touch it, but it’s incredibly versatile. Each of us can use as much or as little as we want.”

Cang Lanyan gazed thoughtfully at the air conditioner. In the next instant, she formed a hand seal, and a stream of aquamarine light shot toward Yin Ya. Before it could reach her, the light suddenly spread out, forming a luminous dome that enveloped Yin Ya completely, like a translucent eggshell.

Warmth immediately radiated from all around, swirling gently around Yin Ya.

Yin Ya struggled to describe the sensation. The warmth flowed around her, within reach, but its texture wasn’t like warm air—it wasn’t dry or breezy, just comforting.

Just as she was about to express her surprise, Cang Lanyan said, “I can dispel the cold for you without needing to activate the artifact.”

For a few seconds, Yin Ya was genuinely touched.

After all, last night she had merely mentioned feeling “cold,” and Cang Lanyan had immediately used her power to warm her. It was incredibly considerate.

But reason quickly pulled her out of the fleeting warmth of gratitude.

What am I thinking? To Cang Lanyan, I’m just an insignificant believer, as trivial as an ant.

The moment Yin Ya considered the possible reasons Cang Lanyan might be lingering in this world—even unconfirmed suspicions—she dared not casually accept her kindness again.

She immediately refused: “Lord, you don’t need to do this! I…”

“There’s no need for further words.” Before she could finish, Cang Lanyan cut her off.

Yin Ya opened her mouth, but found she couldn’t speak.

Confused, she looked at Cang Lanyan, unsure why the goddess was forcing her to accept her generosity.

“Turn off the Heating Artifact,” Cang Lanyan commanded, her amber eyes sharp and stern.

This time, her tone was imperious. Yin Ya had no choice but to comply.

As she picked up her phone and used the AC app to turn off the heating, Cang Lanyan strode to the bookshelf by the window, her gaze sweeping across the densely packed volumes.

Only when the AC stopped humming did she ask, “Are these all your books?”

Having been freed from the silence, Yin Ya nodded quickly and ventured, “Yes. Are you interested?”

“I have also read the texts of the Human Clan,” Cang Lanyan replied, her gaze still fixed on the books. “But the characters in those texts differ greatly from the ones in your collection.”

“You might be looking at ancient texts of the Human Clan,” Yin Ya explained. “It’s like this: The current era is separated from that time by several millennia. The Human Clan’s script has undergone numerous improvements and simplifications, undergoing significant changes.”

She opened the glass cabinet and took out an Illustrated Compendium of Script Evolution. “This book records all discovered script changes up until now. You can see which period’s script looks familiar to you.”

As a literature student, Yin Ya never lacked reference books like this.

However, when Cang Lanyan took the compendium and began flipping through it, Yin Ya secretly opened her phone, opened the character profiles, and checked if she had given Cang Lanyan any strange details.

When writing character profiles, Yin Ya always casually added minor details that were hardly ever used. These details were numerous and varied, and with the number of characters in a book, even she couldn’t keep them all straight.

And sure enough, she found one.

According to the profile, the common script of the Merman Clan didn’t differ significantly from that of the Human Clan at the time. The main differences lay in the complexity of the strokes.

Just then, Cang Lanyan’s voice came from behind her: “I found it.”

Yin Ya quickly put away her phone and went over to check. After confirming, she casually pulled out a thick comparative dictionary.

“Common characters are all recorded here,” she said. “You can use it to look up the translations.”

The dictionary was as thick as a brick. Yin Ya’s wrist ached after holding it for just a moment, but when it reached Cang Lanyan, it seemed weightless, floating in the air and flipping through its pages by itself.

Seeing Cang Lanyan completely absorbed in the book, Yin Ya immediately recalled her ability to remember everything she reads.

She didn’t disturb the Big Villain as she pored over the dictionary. After returning the Illustrated Compendium of Script Evolution to the bookshelf, she hurried to the kitchen to boil water.

While waiting for the water to boil, Yin Ya pulled out her phone, opened her reading app, and stared at the cover of her novel, feeling troubled.

With the story nearing its end, she could justify taking breaks by claiming she needed time to “organize her thoughts.” But no matter how long she took, she’d eventually have to finish the story. She’d been contracted for almost three years and had never abandoned a book, and she didn’t want to ruin her perfect record now.

But now she couldn’t even save the text that would send the Big Villain back to his own world, and he was right here with her, and she couldn’t let him discover her true identity as the author…

To be honest, she was completely stumped.

With Cang Lanyan constantly watching over her, Yin Ya couldn’t write during the day, let alone focus on sorting out the severely derailed plot of her story. She didn’t even know when she’d be able to start the latest chapter.

In other words, for the foreseeable future, she couldn’t return to a normal life where she could think deeply.

Yin Ya could only put up a “vacation” notice, sincerely apologize to her readers, close the reading app, switch to WeChat, and casually open the pinned conversation at the top.

It was with Cen Xiang, her childhood friend and classmate. Since they were little, they’d shared practically everything, keeping no secrets from each other.

But now, Yin Ya hesitated, unsure whether she should tell Cen Xiang about this.

There was still time before school started, and Cen Xiang lived on campus rather than renting an apartment off-campus. Her home was too far away—far water couldn’t quench a nearby fire.

Moreover, Yin Ya wasn’t yet certain about Cang Lanyan’s attitude toward others. Better safe than sorry; she didn’t want her childhood friend to be dragged into unknown danger.

The electric kettle beside her let out a soft “click,” pulling Yin Ya back to reality.

The boiling water gradually quieted. Yin Ya steadied herself, picked up the kettle, filled the thermos, and brewed a cup of floral tea for Cang Lanyan. She carried the steaming tea out.

The Big Villain remained standing by the bookcase, flipping through an airborne dictionary she was levitating.

Her slightly curled snow-white hair cascaded past her ankles, pristine and dustless. Nearby, equally soft and white curtains hung, creating a serene, picturesque scene from the back.

Yin Ya saw Cang Lanyan’s portrait on her desktop every day, so she thought she was somewhat immune to her beauty.

But none of the portraits showed her profile. Now, with the good lighting in the room, Yin Ya approached with the floral tea, only to be unexpectedly captivated by Cang Lanyan’s profile. She froze, rooted to the spot.

Only when Cang Lanyan’s gaze swept over her did Yin Ya snap out of her daze and hastily raise the cup. “This is your tea. I put it on the desk.”

The desk near the bookcase was, of course, her computer desk. As Yin Ya set down the cup, she glanced at her laptop.

She needed to find a way to create writing conditions for herself—something that wouldn’t draw the Big Villain’s attention but would allow her to quiet her mind and plan the next plot developments.

But before she could come up with a plan, Cang Lanyan suddenly asked, “What is the artifact you keep in your pocket?”

Yin Ya’s heart skipped a beat. She was talking about her phone!

But she had tucked her phone into her pocket several times last night. Why was the Big Villain only asking about it today?

“It’s a cell phone,” she answered truthfully, her heart racing as her gaze involuntarily drifted to the glowing screen still enveloping her body, radiating warmth.

Could this be the Big Villain’s Surveillance Spell?

Support The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story