The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 50

“This… this just isn’t working!” Yin Ya quickly shook off the strange images in her mind and waved her hand. “Just transfer your spiritual power to me!”

Though she had already made up her mind, once the ache in her other wrist subsided, she couldn’t help but ask in a hushed voice, “To relieve the ankle pain… do we also need to clasp hands and press palms together?”

For a moment, she couldn’t decide which scenario was more embarrassing: this or “Cang Lanyan holding me while I brush my teeth.”

…Both images were so cringeworthy she wanted to dig a hole and bury herself right then and there.

“If you want to try it, I don’t mind,” Cang Lanyan said with a smile.

Yin Ya froze, meeting the merfolk’s cunning amber eyes. Suddenly, another possibility dawned on her, and she belatedly realized she’d been tricked again.

What ten-finger clasping or palm-to-palm contact? As long as Cang Lanyan touched her skin, she could transfer spiritual power, couldn’t she?

Even more absurd was that she’d actually gone along with it like a fool!

“Cang Lanyan!” Yin Ya exclaimed, both angry and embarrassed, grabbing Cang Lanyan’s arm. “After all the trust I’ve placed in you, you actually took advantage of me like this?!”

“My apologies,” Cang Lanyan said with a smirk, her smile unapologetic. “I just felt like trying something new. I didn’t expect you to be so… cooperative.”

Yin Ya seethed with anger, grinding her teeth. She glared at the arm she was gripping, tempted to bite it, but ultimately restrained herself and released it with a huff.

“So cooperative”? That was just another way of saying “so easy to push around”!

No matter how many prohibitions she set, this Old Spirit only needed to use a simple trick to trap her within seconds. It was best to avoid self-inflicted suffering and spare herself the embarrassment later.

“Still, channeling spiritual power requires physical contact,” Cang Lanyan said, shifting to Yin Ya’s ankle and reaching out again. “Your rules prohibit me from initiating spiritual contact with you.”

Reluctantly, Yin Ya sat up, rolled down her pant legs, gripped Cang Lanyan’s wrist, and pressed her hand against her left ankle.

The icy chill of Cang Lanyan’s skin sent another shiver through Yin Ya.

“I have a question,” Yin Ya couldn’t help but ask. “Why is your skin so cold, but your mouth feels normal?”

“It’s just the way I am,” Cang Lanyan replied. “This body was molded after the Merfolk Tribe, but my internal organs were granted by the Sacred Tree.”

She paused. “Does Your Excellency the Author truly not know this?”

“I don’t bother with such minute details unless they’re relevant to the main story,” Yin Ya said. “But aren’t you supposed to be a manifestation of a Merfolk Teardrop? Why aren’t you completely like a Merfolk, inside and out?”

“It’s said that the Chief Elder feared I might become too powerful and refuse to protect my kin,” Cang Lanyan explained, lowering her gaze. “So he bound my life to the Sacred Tree. In essence, the Sacred Tree bestowed upon me these organs, granting me emotions and desires, making me the ‘living’ character you speak of.”

“How ironic,” Yin Ya thought. “In the end, after their deaths, Cang Lanyan only managed to protect her people for so long by shedding these very emotions and desires.”

She didn’t voice these thoughts aloud, merely gave a quiet acknowledgment and refrained from pressing further.

“Don’t worry about it,” Cang Lanyan said calmly, seeing through Yin Ya’s thoughts. “It all happened over a thousand years ago. I don’t care about it anymore.”

Yin Ya nodded slightly, her thoughts drifting back to the second day after Cang Lanyan’s arrival.

Back then, she had asked Cang Lanyan whether she intended to travel through the Human World or settle down permanently.

At the time, Cang Lanyan had answered “settle down permanently.” Yin Ya had assumed this was a test, but only now did she realize that Cang Lanyan’s answer stemmed from the collapse of her original world.

Her kin and ocean realm had vanished, leaving only her—an immortal being, alone in the world. With nothing left to bind her and no responsibilities to shoulder, there was no reason to return.

Once Cang Lanyan had eased the soreness in her ankles, Yin Ya got out of bed and stretched. Remembering that she had to enter the “Merfolk’s Delight” Dream Realm every night, she couldn’t help but glance at her wrist.

If she didn’t resolve her emotional block, she’d need Cang Lanyan’s help to fade her memories or transfer spiritual power to her, as she had just done, every time she left the Dream Realm. It was both troublesome and time-consuming.

But how exactly did she need to resolve her emotional block?

Yin Ya pondered deeply and realized that all the solutions she could think of to resolve her emotional block whether it was coming out to her friends and family or convincing her mother to overcome her prejudices against homosexuality were all incredibly difficult to achieve.

Her emotional block stemmed from her father’s sexual orientation and his infidelity, but with his sudden death and the passage of time, it had become a “sin” she kept buried deep within her heart.

Ever since her second year of high school, when she accidentally discovered her own sexual orientation, she had repeatedly brainwashed herself into believing she was straight. She avoided interacting with same-aged peers of the same gender as much as possible, and even when writing fiction, she strictly avoided yaoi and yuri genres.

Even Cen Xiang, who had grown up with her, remained unaware of her true sexual orientation.

Burdened by this “sin” that wasn’t even hers to begin with, Yin Ya had hidden this secret so deeply that when the day finally came when she could have someone to confide in, she found herself too afraid to reveal it.

Despite knowing that sexual orientation itself was not sinful, the ones who truly sinned were those who crossed the line.

As usual, dinner was takeout, but Yin Ya had no appetite. She held her chopsticks in one hand and propped her chin with the other, staring blankly at the frozen dumplings in the plastic box.

Cang Lanyan dipped her dumplings in the sauce and slowly finished her plate of scallion and egg dumplings. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and propped her chin up, watching Yin Ya.

“Is your stomach upset, or is something bothering you?” she asked.

Yin Ya snapped out of her daze and replied dejectedly, “Both, I guess.”

Her period coinciding with this major life event felt like hell on earth.

“You still want dinner?” Cang Lanyan asked, picking up a dumpling and holding it to Yin Ya’s lips. With a deadpan expression, she whispered, “Ah.”

Yin Ya stared at her in shock.

Has this old spirit eaten something weird? Why is she suddenly trying to hand-feed me out of nowhere?!

“I-I can feed myself!” Yin Ya hastily grabbed the dumpling with her chopsticks and stuffed it into her mouth. “Did you go read my novel again?” she asked, bewildered.

“Your protagonist does so many things I don’t understand,” Cang Lanyan said, blinking. “So I thought, if I did the same thing to you, it might help me understand.”

Help! Yin Ya screamed inwardly. Out loud, she tried to reason, “But… doesn’t that seem kind of strange?”

“Strange?” Cang Lanyan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Yin Ya desperately wanted to take back what she’d just said.

This old spirit didn’t even understand the most basic concepts of human emotions and desires. How could Yin Ya possibly expect her to grasp something as complex as “two-dimensional/three-dimensional separation”?

For a fleeting moment, Yin Ya considered recommending some novels to Cang Lanyan, like Obsessive Antagonist Development Diary, hoping she might empathize with protagonists who shared her traits and gain some understanding of normal human emotions.

But the moment she imagined Cang Lanyan imitating the characters’ actions, the thought was crushed before it could take root.

I have to educate the villain I created myself. Relying on external help won’t work.

So, she tried to correct Cang Lanyan: “Some actions depend on the relationship between the people involved. For example, a male lead feeding food to a female lead is only appropriate when their relationship has reached a certain level of intimacy…”

“Is our relationship not intimate enough?” Cang Lanyan countered.

Yin Ya was once again speechless, her words caught in her throat.

How could she possibly explain this?

Though they’d only been together for a few days, their constant proximity, combined with Yin Ya’s familiarity and fondness for Cang Lanyan and Cang Lanyan’s effortless ability to see through her, had rapidly deepened their bond.

“How do humans define a ‘close’ relationship?” Cang Lanyan pressed.

Yin Ya was momentarily at a loss for words. She stuffed a dumpling into her mouth and mumbled vaguely, “It’s not something you can explain in just a few words.”

She realized she was utterly unfit to teach others. Every time she thought she could convince Cang Lanyan, the other woman would easily sway her with just a few words.

But she knew all too well that once certain steps were taken, they couldn’t be undone.

Especially during this period of her own confusion.

At times like these, the best course of action, as Cen Xiang had said, was either to feign ignorance or engage in a bit of “tug-of-war.”

“Is that so?”

Hearing the familiar catchphrase, Yin Ya instinctively looked up and saw Cang Lanyan pull out her phone and start tapping the screen rapidly, probably searching online for keywords to find an explanation.

It had to be said, this old spirit learned things remarkably quickly. The time it took her to go from struggling with pinyin to typing swiftly was frighteningly short.

Yin Ya didn’t know what exactly she had found, nor could she discern any emotion from Cang Lanyan’s impassive face. Seeing her remain focused on the screen, Yin Ya began to feel a flicker of unease.

When this old spirit wanted to feign ignorance, her face turned as rigid as a sculpture, devoid of even the slightest hint of expression.

“You…” After a brief silence, Yin Ya couldn’t help but voice her concern, her words awkward and forced. “Are you… trying to establish a close relationship with me?”

The phrasing sounded unnatural, and Yin Ya knew most people wouldn’t speak like that. But erring on the side of caution, she deliberately chose each word to clearly convey her meaning, hoping to prevent any further misunderstandings.

“Mm,” Cang Lanyan nodded, meeting her gaze with an earnest look.

“Then… can you tell the different types of close relationships apart now?” Yin Ya asked. “Close relationships come in many forms. For example, the one between Cen Xiang and me and the one between my mother and me, both are types of close relationships.”

“I suppose I have a general understanding,” Cang Lanyan said. “But you haven’t mentioned the type of close relationship I want to establish.”

Yin Ya’s heart skipped a beat, but she replied, “That’s because there are so many types of close relationships. I was just giving examples.”

“Then, if I wanted to establish that type of close relationship with you, would you refuse?” Cang Lanyan asked.

She still hadn’t specified which type, and though Yin Ya vaguely understood what she was implying, she didn’t dare answer recklessly. She stammered, “It would depend on the specific circumstances.”

Though she maintained a calm facade, her heart was boiling over inside, turning her into a whistling teapot about to burst.

“Is that so?” Cang Lanyan put down her phone and watched her with keen interest. “What if I wanted a close relationship where we could share a bed?”

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