The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 41

The plastic bag exchange made Yin Ya swallow the complaint that was about to slip out. With a soft scoff, she followed Cang Lanyan up the steps.

Not bad for a Major Antagonist, she thought. She’s already grasped the concepts of “guilt” and “concealment” so quickly. Otherwise, given her personality, offering to carry someone’s bags would be like the sun rising from the west.

It was 8:30 in the morning, and as they returned to Ruiye Garden, many office workers were still heading out.

As they passed by, Yin Ya noticed Cang Lanyan glancing at them curiously. Softly explaining, she said, “These are people going to work. They’re just like the ones we see on the streets and in shops.”

“Why are they leaving so late?” Cang Lanyan asked.

“That depends on their jobs,” Yin Ya replied. “Some have regular ‘nine-to-five’ hours, starting at 9 AM and finishing at 5 PM. But others work shifts, especially in industries like coffee shops and bubble tea stores that are open 24/7. Early shift workers might need to leave as early as 6 or 7 AM to prepare for the day, while night shift workers might not finish until midnight or even 1 or 2 AM.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Cang Lanyan said, looking at her with interest.

“Not really,” Yin Ya replied, a little embarrassed. “Cen Xiang often complains about her part-time jobs and mentions these things to me. I’m terrible at socializing, so I’ve never even looked for work like that.”

As she spoke, she noticed the Security Office up ahead. She suggested that Cang Lanyan wait outside while she went in to talk to the security guard.

This time, Cang Lanyan wasn’t willing. “What, are you afraid they’ll give me a hard time?”

“No, no! I’m afraid they’ll start asking too many questions!” Yin Ya shook her head quickly. “They’ll definitely ask how we knew the camera was broken, and I’m afraid you’ll just blurt out that you cut the power…”

“I won’t say anything,” Cang Lanyan said, picking up the fruits, vegetables, and papers and striding toward the Security Office.

Yin Ya had no choice but to hurry after her.

Only one man was on duty at the Security Office today—a short, thin old man with a kind heart. When Yin Ya first moved into her rental apartment, she’d bothered him several times about the utilities and package storage. He had a good memory and recognized her now.

Yin Ya arrived at the Security Office a step ahead of Cang Lanyan. She pushed open the door and greeted the middle-aged man reading the newspaper inside, “Good morning, Master Xie.”

“Morning, young lady,” Master Xie replied with a kind smile. “What seems to be the problem this time?”

“The surveillance camera in our hallway doesn’t seem to be working,” Yin Ya said quickly, trying to get to the point. “The light on it doesn’t seem to be lit.”

“Oh, that was fixed a couple of days ago,” Master Xie said, standing up and walking toward the surveillance monitor. “When exactly did you notice it wasn’t lit?”

Yin Ya gave him an approximate time.

“It looks fine here. It must have been fixed.” Master Xie pointed to the monitor, where the camera feed appeared normal.

“Oh, that’s good.” Yin Ya felt a sudden wave of embarrassment.

She had been so anxious that she’d forgotten what she’d just seen in the school security room: that a malfunctioning camera would simply go black. The Security Office would have been the first to notice anything amiss.

“But the camera in your area has been acting up a lot lately,” Master Xie added.

Yin Ya knew immediately who was behind the trouble. She wished she could find a hole to bury herself. After bidding farewell to Master Xie, she awkwardly gripped Cang Lanyan’s wrist and slunk out of the room.

The only thing that gave her a slight sense of relief was that Cang Lanyan hadn’t uttered a single word throughout the entire incident.

After steering clear of the crowd and reaching an empty space, Yin Ya finally released her grip. Looking up, she said weakly, “You really need to stop messing with the surveillance! Cut down on unnecessary spells and stop wasting spiritual power. Isn’t that better?”

“This isn’t an unnecessary spell,” Cang Lanyan corrected her calmly, clearly unaware of her own mistake.

“But without the surveillance cameras, the Security Office will definitely install new ones. If a burglary or something happens while the cameras are down, we won’t be able to lock in on suspects!” Yin Ya explained rapidly. “You’re just making other people fix the mess you created for your own convenience! Not everyone can understand why you’d do this like I can!”

Though still timid at heart, she managed to steel herself when necessary. Even her voice unconsciously rose a few pitches.

Even Cang Lanyan was momentarily speechless. After a few seconds, she let out a soft scoff. “As expected of the Human Race. Their rules are truly intricate.”

“Yes, exactly! That’s right!” Yin Ya nodded solemnly. “It’s okay if you don’t understand them all right now, but you must follow them!”

“What if I don’t follow them?” Cang Lanyan pressed.

Yin Ya hadn’t anticipated this question. Caught off guard, her voice caught in her throat.

“If you don’t follow them, it will bring you trouble,” Cang Lanyan continued, answering her own question. “Isn’t that right?”

“…Right,” Yin Ya forced herself to admit, subconsciously biting her lip as she avoided meeting Cang Lanyan’s gaze.

The truth was, this was exactly the case.

When Cang Lanyan first arrived, Yin Ya had anticipated that she might not adhere to the Human Race’s various rules.

That’s why, from the very beginning, Yin Ya had worked hard to keep Cang Lanyan confined at home, minimizing her exposure to the outside world and any potential contact with others.

After all, if anything truly went wrong, Yin Ya would undoubtedly bear the full responsibility, not Cang Lanyan, who didn’t even have an ID.

Unsure how to handle such matters, Yin Ya had simply decided to nip any potential trouble in the bud.

After acknowledging her, Yin Ya even began waiting for Cang Lanyan’s usual mockery, expecting the Major Antagonist to once again mock her for being cowardly.

But instead, she watched as Cang Lanyan simply turned and walked straight toward their apartment building.

Cang Lanyan… said nothing.

Did she find the truth so absurd that it wasn’t worth commenting on?

Feeling uneasy, Yin Ya hurriedly followed behind her, walking home in silence.

As soon as they closed the door at home, Cang Lanyan instantly reverted to her usual appearance of white hair and gauzy robes. She tossed the plastic bag onto the table, strode over, and nonchalantly unzipped Yin Ya’s down jacket.

Yin Ya was startled by the sudden movement, frozen in place as she stared at her in bewilderment.

“You really do love wearing this ‘cocoon’,” Cang Lanyan said coolly. “You enjoy trapping yourself.”

With that, she unceremoniously pulled off the jacket and tossed it onto the nearby coat rack.

Feeling flustered and unsure, Yin Ya hugged herself and asked softly, “Why do you say that?”

“I couldn’t have damaged the surveillance even if I wanted to,” Cang Lanyan said softly, meeting Yin Ya’s gaze. “Not since you issued that prohibition.”

Yin Ya froze, suddenly remembering the hastily written prohibition she’d scribbled down, banning Cang Lanyan from destroying electrical equipment.

“Already forgotten?” Cang Lanyan flipped the gauzy fabric on her arm to cover her palm, then gently lifted Yin Ya’s chin through the thin fabric. “What’s ever bound me wasn’t the rules of the Human Race, but your rules.”

Yin Ya finally realized how utterly foolish she’d been. Whether it was trying to stop Cang Lanyan from damaging the surveillance or rushing to the security office to confirm the footage, it all now seemed like a one-sided delusion.

Cang Lanyan had never intended to sabotage the surveillance at all. She’d only teleported over to check it out of habit when Yin Ya mentioned it.

“Self-contradictory little hedgehog,” Cang Lanyan chuckled, seeing Yin Ya’s dazed expression. “You’ve always treated me like a willful child, someone who enjoys wreaking havoc.”

She paused. “Is it because I’m the villain in your story?”

Yin Ya desperately wanted to say “yes,” but she didn’t dare. Under Cang Lanyan’s piercing gaze, she instinctively retreated to the wall.

Yet Cang Lanyan didn’t press further. Instead, she grasped Yin Ya’s arm and teleported them both to the computer desk.

“Buy? I bought it, but let’s print some out instead.” She waved her hand, and the pack of printer paper flew over on its own. “Skip the irrelevant romance stuff at the beginning. Start from where I first appear.”

Yin Ya swallowed hard, sat down stiffly, and opened her computer.

She could guess what Cang Lanyan was thinking right now: I’ll see exactly how much you’ve ruined me.

Since she’d promised to show Cang Lanyan the full text earlier, she had no reason to refuse now. Biting her lip, she obediently opened the document, copied all the content from Cang Lanyan’s first appearance to her disappearance, and pasted it into a new blank file.

This is practically a public execution, she thought, feeling out of place.

The printer quickly began working. To provide the text as quickly as possible, Yin Ya chose single-sided printing. She leaned back dejectedly in her swivel chair, watching Cang Lanyan approach slowly, a bottle of fresh milk in hand, twisting the cap open.

“You look troubled,” Cang Lanyan remarked.

“Are you really not thinking about it at all?” Yin Ya couldn’t help but ask. “About the fact that the world you’ve lived in for so long is just a book? And now you’re going to witness your destined fate with your own eyes…”

“I not only discovered the true nature of the world, but I also found the culprit who bestowed upon me this fate of eternal life,” Cang Lanyan interrupted. “I’m far luckier than those characters who remain ignorant of their predetermined destinies until death.”

The phrase “culprit” made Yin Ya tense up. She wondered if Cang Lanyan was deliberately using that word or if she was constrained by the rules and couldn’t say “Creator God,” so she had to find a similar term as a substitute.

After the printer finished spitting out pages, Cang Lanyan glanced at the stack and frowned. “Is that all? That’s far less than I imagined.”

“Because you’re not the protagonist,” Yin Ya whispered. “I’ve already given you a lot more screen time than usual. Readers have scolded me multiple times for ‘upstaging the main character.’ Originally, you wouldn’t have even had these few lines.”

Cang Lanyan, who had never paid attention to web novels, didn’t comment. She quietly took a few sips of milk and sat on the sofa, waiting.

“Let me be clear upfront: I’m just an immature, amateur author. I can’t compare to literary giants like Wu Cheng’en or Cao Xueqin,” Yin Ya warned Cang Lanyan after handing her the selected chapters from the serialized novel. “If you find my writing unappealing, please don’t compare me to them.”

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