The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 48

Yin Ya never imagined that during her most painful moments, the person she could embrace without reservation would be a character from her own writing.

She was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to speak, oblivious to Cang Lanyan’s questions. She only felt a pair of arms gently encircle her.

The fresh mint scent lingered in her nose, offering a comforting contrast to her distress over family matters. Despite her anguish, she couldn’t help but feel grateful toward the spirit before her.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Cang Lanyan whispered in her ear, “Go wash your face.”

Yin Ya choked out a muffled agreement, removed her glasses, and went to the bathroom to wash her face and the tear-streaked lenses. Upon returning, she immediately went to the bedroom, retrieved the bedding and pillows she had prepared for Cang Lanyan, and returned the pillows she had piled on the lower bunk.

Cang Lanyan stood nearby. With a flick of her fingers, the pink jellyfish Yin Ya had tucked into her pocket flew back into her hand, dissolving into spiritual power. In the next instant, more spiritual power combined into a jellyfish shape, forming a palm-sized blue jellyfish.

Yin Ya had just finished making her bed when she turned around and saw Cang Lanyan holding out a small jellyfish to her.

“It’s a creation of Spiritual Power,” Cang Lanyan said softly. “Feel free to squeeze it.”

So Yin Ya took the jellyfish, sat down on the bed, and absentmindedly began kneading the soft creature.

Cang Lanyan sat down beside her, observing Yin Ya’s expression as she opened her phone’s search engine and hesitantly typed two words: “male child.”

Of course, she found nothing. But remembering how God had practically spat out that term, she hesitated for only a second before typing “male homosexual” into the search bar, the term that her phone’s input method had automatically suggested.

The information that came up made her furrow her brow immediately. After reading it, though, her eyes filled with confusion.

The human race clearly acknowledged and accepted same-sex relationships. So why did the term “male homosexual” make Yin Ya react with such intense revulsion?

“Cang Lanyan,” Yin Ya suddenly said, “do you find everything that just happened completely incomprehensible?”

Indeed, Cang Lanyan thought.

Mother and daughter? The two of them? Whether it was the sudden shift in attitude or the abrupt change in topic, it left her utterly perplexed.

It was like trying to understand why the protagonist in God’s story would get into a huge argument over such a trivial, boring question.

She had originally intended to calmly explain the situation as usual, then wait for God’s explanation.

But when she saw the dullness in God’s eyes, the words already on her tongue inexplicably shifted into something she couldn’t quite grasp: “I hope I can understand this as soon as possible.”

“However, matters of blood ties and familial bonds are far more difficult to explain than the Seven Emotions and Six Desires,” Yin Ya said softly, stroking the tentacles of the jellyfish. “That’s why I’ve been hesitant to tell you; I feared you wouldn’t understand.”

“I know,” Cang Lanyan nodded. “You mentioned it not long ago.”

Seeing Yin Ya bite her lip again, she turned off the phone screen and added calmly, “If you’re willing to explain, I’ll do my best to understand.”

Hearing this, Yin Ya’s fingers, which had been gripping the jellyfish’s bell, relaxed slightly.

“Actually, you’re right,” Yin Ya said after a moment of silence, keeping her head lowered. “It’s not that I don’t like women. It’s just that I’ve never dared to.”

Cang Lanyan remained silent, listening intently.

“From as far back as I can remember, my parents were deeply in love,” Yin Ya recalled. “Whenever I accompanied them to social gatherings or parties, their colleagues would always praise them as a ‘model couple.’ “A’model couple’ meant a married pair who lived in perfect harmony—no quarrels, no suspicions, always forgiving and understanding each other; their bond was unbreakable.”

She paused. “In short, to outsiders, their relationship seemed absolutely perfect, and for a long time, it truly was. When I was little, I always believed I was the luckiest child in the world. My parents adored me, and I hardly have any memories of them ever arguing. But then…”

As painful memories resurfaced, she unconsciously tightened her grip on the jellyfish, her body trembling violently.

She would never forget the sound of those heated arguments.

The bloodstained shards of a shattered vase on the floor were torn and the shredded bed sheets.

That couple, consumed by rage, was refusing to listen to a single word she said.

And then… with a heart-wrenching cry, the dark little box was slammed to the ground.

The nightmare flashed through her mind, and she suddenly felt a chill at the back of her neck. A familiar and comforting presence quickly drew near.

Cang Lanyan wrapped her arms around Yin Ya through their clothes.

“…Even though it’s my ‘self’ driving me to do this, I also… inexplicably want to embrace you.”

Her gentle voice, tinged with apology, whispered in Yin Ya’s ear, “Should I be doing this?”

“You can,” Yin Ya murmured. “I… also… hope you’ll hold me right now.”

They fell into a brief silence. In the end, Yin Ya spoke first: “I’m sorry. I can’t say it after all.”

“Then don’t say it,” Cang Lanyan said, stroking her hair. “Think of something happy instead.”

“How can I think of something happy?!” Yin Ya said, looking miserable. “My head is full of the argument with my mother just now, and all those old things…”

“Ask Cen Xiang,” Cang Lanyan cut in.

Her? When Cang Lanyan mentioned it, Yin Ya suddenly remembered she hadn’t checked in with her childhood friend, Cen Xiang. She’d planned to text or call Cen Xiang after her mother left, provided Cang Lanyan’s secret remained safe.

“You’re right,” Yin Ya agreed, quickly pulling out her phone to text Cen Xiang.

But after typing just two words, she felt Cang Lanyan’s gaze. Suddenly, she felt too embarrassed to complain to Cen Xiang while leaning against Cang Lanyan’s chest.

Cang Lanyan… was still holding her.

Even if Cang Lanyan didn’t mind, Yin Ya couldn’t bring herself to comfortably lean against her and whine to someone else. It just felt wrong.

So she simply sent “Crisis averted,” tucked her phone back into her pocket, and resumed petting the jellyfish.

“Do you really like jellyfish?” she asked Cang Lanyan, trying to sound casual.

Cang Lanyan seemed taken aback by the sudden question but quickly nodded firmly.

“Deep Sea jellyfish are incredibly soft and beautifully colored, like flowers in a field guide,” she recalled. “They have such gentle temperaments too. They’re willing to listen to me talk for hours, and if I feed them some fish or shrimp, they’ll keep coming back.”

Yin Ya immediately thought of her who was imprisoned in the Deep Sea for three hundred years. Just as a wave of guilt washed over her, Cang Lanyan said, “Before I stripped myself of the Seven Emotions and Six Desires, I imagined that once I mastered the art of transformation, I would become a jellyfish and leave the Deep Sea with them.”

“So, the Seven Emotions and Six Desires you stripped away ultimately took the form of a jellyfish?” Yin Ya asked absently.

“That was the form I thought best suited them at the time,” Cang Lanyan replied. Her slender, long nails gently traced the outline of the blue jellyfish in Yin Ya’s hand. “But jellyfish are too fragile. After stripping them away, I’ve kept them hidden within my body, never showing them to anyone, to prevent their destruction.”

Yin Ya paused, then awkwardly continued, “I thought you didn’t care about the Seven Emotions and Six Desires, so you casually placed them in such a fragile container.”

“Now, I don’t even know if I cared back then,” Cang Lanyan said. “Besides, like me, they are ageless and immortal. I’m not worried about them being erased. I just don’t want to see the jellyfish shattered again.”

Yin Ya nodded understandingly.

Whether in her own world or in reality, jellyfish have very short lifespans. Cang Lanyan must have witnessed countless jellyfish deaths.

To Cang Lanyan, jellyfish weren’t just simple ornamental objects like flowers or goldfish. They were her only companions for three centuries  and the only ones who could truly listen to her heart’s voice.

“You seem to like jellyfish too,” Cang Lanyan said. “I thought you were terrified of them.”

“Of course I’m afraid of poisonous jellyfish!” Yin Ya said helplessly. “Humans are fragile; a lethal sting would kill us. But once I learned your jellyfish aren’t poisonous, I wasn’t afraid of them at all.”

As she spoke, she casually pinched two of the jellyfish’s tentacles, letting them slowly wrap around her fingers.

Seeing this, Cang Lanyan performed some kind of hand seal, channeling a massive amount of tangible spiritual power from her palms. The energy rose, transforming into strands of luminous light that drifted slowly through the room.

“Are you… creating a swarm of jellyfish?” Yin Ya asked curiously, watching the strands of light begin to morph.

“I love watching them gather together,” Cang Lanyan said, her fingers twitching as she directed the Spiritual Power Jellyfish. She turned to Yin Ya and asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” Yin Ya blurted out without thinking.

She recalled a science video she’d seen recently, showing blue bioluminescent jellyfish gathering in the deep blue sea—a scene as beautiful as a dream.

As she thought about this, she suddenly remembered the sea in the Heart-Image Illusion Realm.

“Cang Lanyan!” She immediately grabbed the woman’s wrist, where she was channeling spiritual power. “I just had a wonderful idea!”

“What is it?” Cang Lanyan asked, lowering her gaze.

“Can you cast your spells in my dream?” Yin Ya asked. “My bedroom isn’t the Deep Sea, and I… I want to see them gather in the ocean.”

“…Even if it will make your limbs ache again?” Cang Lanyan asked, surprised.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m resting at home these next few days anyway,” Yin Ya said, turning in Cang Lanyan’s arms and stroking the Curse on the back of her neck. She looked up at her pleadingly. “Can you?”

Her? She didn’t hear Cang Lanyan’s response, only felt her eyelids growing heavy as her vision gradually darkened.

After an unknown amount of time, she finally heard Cang Lanyan say by her ear, “Open your eyes.”

Yin Ya obediently opened her eyes.

The deep-sea water was dark, but it was precisely this darkness that made the sky-blue glowing jellyfish appear like clouds, lazily and freely drifting in the water.

Although they formed a jellyfish swarm, their colors weren’t limited to blue. Yin Ya quickly spotted white and pale orange jellyfish, and then saw deep pink ones slowly rotating, their gauzy tentacles trailing behind them like long wedding train veils, adding a touch of romance.

Jellyfish seemed to possess an innate dreaminess, fluffy and soft, light and free.

Yin Ya couldn’t resist reaching out to them, but she was restrained in place by the chains.

Just as she was about to struggle, Cang Lanyan gently caught her wrists.

“There’s no need to rush,” Cang Lanyan said.

In response, the nearby jellyfish swam toward them, continuing their dance within Yin Ya’s reach.

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