The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 6

“Forgive me for asking, but did you see anything unusual on the packaging?” Yin Ya ventured after a few seconds of silence. “Like… ‘protein,’ ‘carbohydrates,’ or ‘calcium’?”

She nearly forgot about the nutrition label on the packaging, which contained many terms that didn’t exist in ancient times. The unknown breeds fear, no wonder the Big Villain wouldn’t even drink a bottle of ordinary milk.

“And ‘pasteurized milk,'” Cang Lanyan added, her amber eyes staring intently at Yin Ya.

Yin Ya considered that “pasteurized milk” must be a product type. To prevent the Big Villain from overthinking even her diet, she pondered for a moment, then used her long-forgotten chemistry and biology knowledge to clumsily explain these unfamiliar terms to Cang Lanyan.

“These are nutrients your body needs. They were present in ancient foods too, but now the Human Clan has categorized them and given them new names. Even though you can’t see or touch them, they’re real.”

“It’s like… blood is red because it contains iron. I don’t mean there’s actual iron flowing in your veins, but I want to show you that these invisible nutrients are perfectly normal. They’re not poison; they’re actually good for you.”

“Even if someone really wanted to poison the food, there’d be no need to label the poison so plainly for everyone to see!”

Meanwhile, the glob of milk remained suspended by her lips. Yin Ya pretended not to notice, focusing on her explanation.

The Big Villain’s invitation to taste the food was neither a good habit nor a sign of trust. If Yin Ya wanted to get closer to the Big Villain’s heart, she first needed to dispel her doubts.

“In short, just drink it safely,” she concluded. “As long as the taste hasn’t gone bad, it’s generally safe to drink.”

Only then did Yin Ya open her mouth, sucking the glob of milk clean from her lips. She licked them and looked at Cang Lanyan.

This was her way of showing sincerity.

Cang Lanyan’s eyebrows twitched slightly, and she finally took the milk bottle. Gripping the neck with one hand and supporting the bottom with the other, she took a small, restrained sip before pulling back. She frowned slightly and didn’t swallow immediately.

Seeing this, Yin Ya wasn’t sure if Cang Lanyan disliked the cold temperature or found it too cold. She cautiously offered, “If you don’t like it cold, I can heat it up for you.”

Cang Lanyan shook her head, her gaze drifting to the half-cup of still-steaming floral tea nearby. With a flick of her finger, the milk in the bottle flowed out in a steady stream, merging into the tea.

Yin Ya was stunned by the Big Villain’s casual act of making bubble tea. The next moment, she heard Cang Lanyan say, “Let’s continue talking about the refrigerator. Please proceed.”

Yin Ya hesitated, afraid that opening the refrigerator again might reveal more worded packaging, forcing her to rack her brains for biochemistry knowledge once more. She quickly suggested, “Why don’t you enjoy your drink while I go tidy up the bathroom?”

Cang Lanyan didn’t refuse, merely nodding slightly. It seemed soaking in the bath was more important to her than learning about new things.

Relieved, Yin Ya returned to the bathroom. She first dried and put away all her bottles and jars, then picked up the cleaning agent and bathtub brush and began scrubbing methodically.

As she scrubbed the bathtub, she couldn’t help but recall their first encounter the previous night.

The Big Villain had risen from this very bathtub and walked out.

Staring at the bathtub filled with snow-white foam, Yin Ya’s mind wandered, thinking like an author.

If she were writing this entrance, it would undoubtedly be majestic. After all, Cang Lanyan was the Guardian God of the Merman Clan—beautiful, elegant, aloof, and cold. Her entrance wouldn’t just come with special effects; it would have its own lighting, backdrop, and even a soundtrack. The scene had to be properly staged, ideally with a raging storm outside to set the mood.

But last night, the power went out, and she had to rely on her phone for light. The full head of white hair on Cang Lanyan made her look like a ghost from a horror movie… Maybe that’s the difference between reality and fiction. Either way, she was genuinely terrified last night.

Yin Ya sighed inwardly as she scrubbed the bathtub.

Something about last night’s blackout seemed off. She’d lived in Linjiang City for three years and had never experienced such a widespread power outage, especially during winter.

But just because it hadn’t happened before didn’t mean it couldn’t. It was like the Big Villain suddenly popping out of a book. How could anyone predict such a low-probability event?

Convincing herself of this, Yin Ya stopped dwelling on it and continued her work.

Before she knew it, morning had passed. After mopping the bathroom, Yin Ya turned off the light and walked out, casually pulling out her phone to order takeout.

Her apartment was on the 22nd floor, too high for her comfort, and she was a bit afraid to go out. At home, she usually ordered takeout for all three meals, only occasionally venturing to the underground mall when it was less crowded to buy groceries and cook.

Before placing the order, Yin Ya asked Cang Lanyan, “Would you like me to order you a lunch too?”

“No need,” the Big Villain replied, with her head buried in a dictionary. “I don’t require frequent sustenance.”

Yin Ya ordered only one bowl of lamb noodle soup. As she was specifying the type of kimchi, Cang Lanyan suddenly asked, “Is this how you send messages to Culinary Cultivators?”

Culinary Cultivators were the chefs of the Merman Clan, cultivators who specialized in cooking. Yin Ya, who had been pondering how to explain takeout to the Big Villain, simply confirmed, “More or less. But in the Human Realm, you have to pay Culinary Cultivators to prepare meals.”

Multitasking, she finished typing the note and clicked “order” while speaking.

“When I picked up the food earlier, they didn’t ask for payment. They just handed it over and left,” Cang Lanyan said.

“That’s because the payment was transferred to the Culinary Cultivator at the same time the order was sent,” Yin Ya explained. Seeing Cang Lanyan look up, she showed her the successful payment receipt. “See? This means the payment went through.”

The Big Villain looked genuinely puzzled.

“Money still exists as physical coins, but most transactions are now digital transfers. For example, this number means I paid the Culinary Cultivator fifteen yuan for the meal.” Yin Ya paused for emphasis. “Does that make sense?”

Cang Lanyan didn’t answer, just stared at Yin Ya’s phone.

Yin Ya felt uneasy, afraid the Big Villain would suddenly say, “Interesting,” and demand her phone.

“This must be very important to you,” Cang Lanyan said after a few seconds, answering a question she hadn’t asked.

Yin Ya didn’t know what she meant, but nodded along. “Actually, nobody can live without phones these days. They can do so much more than just send messages.”

“Does it have a spirit?” Cang Lanyan asked.

“It’s just an object,” Yin Ya replied. “Do you know about mechanisms and automatons? Phones are similar. They’re just tools that make human life easier.”

Despite her words, Yin Ya couldn’t help but imagine a “phone spirit”—she’d actually seen a TV show where phones gained consciousness. The writers’ wild imagination made for an oddly entertaining story.

Cang Lanyan nodded in understanding but didn’t elaborate, returning to her dictionary.

Yin Ya didn’t press the topic further. Sitting on the sofa with her phone, she waited for her takeout, letting her mind wander.

Then Cang Lanyan’s voice cut through her thoughts: “Are phones rare?”

“Not difficult,” Yin Ya replied casually.

“Please find me one,” Cang Lanyan said.

Still lost in thought, Yin Ya heard the Big Villain say “please” and, without really processing it, mumbled an affirmative. A few seconds later, she snapped back to reality and suddenly realized what she’d agreed to.

Fortunately, she had a spare phone from her high school days. Though outdated, it still ran smoothly. The moment she came to her senses, she hurried to her bedroom, rummaged through a palm-sized storage box in the depths of her cabinet, retrieved the spare phone, and after a brief search for its charger, brought both back to the living room to charge the phone in front of the Big Villain.

“Phones are important, but they become outdated quickly,” Yin Ya explained, trying to justify her swift retrieval of the device. “This is an old phone I used before. Of course, it has everything the new one does.”

In the world of the book, residents valued old artifacts that had been carefully preserved over newly crafted ones.

However, as Yin Ya spoke, she kept a close eye on Cang Lanyan’s expression. Seeing only curiosity in the Big Villain’s gaze as she examined the spare phone, Yin Ya finally relaxed slightly.

The backup phone only contained her high school “black history” — documents with scrambled chapter numbers and hand-drawn character designs. None of it had anything to do with the stories she’d written since, so she wasn’t worried about the Big Villain finding it.

Seeing Cang Lanyan grip the data cable, Yin Ya hurriedly explained, “It hasn’t been used in ages and needs to be charged to wake up. All phones need to be charged before they can be used. If the battery runs out, they automatically shut off. It’s a… self-protection mechanism.”

“No, this is the fate the Human Clan has imposed upon it, not something it chose willingly,” Cang Lanyan suddenly retorted.

Sensing the Big Villain’s tone turning frosty, Yin Ya, though bewildered, quickly responded, “You could also say it’s simply operating according to the programs humans designed for it.”

After speaking, she realized that modern technical terms would be hard for someone from ancient times to understand, and fell into a momentary silence, frantically searching her mental vocabulary.

However, Cang Lanyan seemed to have understood—or perhaps misunderstood something. Yin Ya only heard her let out a cold laugh, and in the next instant, saw the data cable snap in two!

“There’s no need to wake it up.”

The Big Villain’s voice had dropped to a sub-zero temperature, freezing Yin Ya into an involuntary shiver and leaving her even more bewildered.

What’s going on? Why is the Big Villain suddenly angry?

Did she accidentally say something she shouldn’t have?

“But if you don’t wake it up, you won’t be able to use your phone,” she finally blurted out, unable to resist reminding her.

“I have no messages to send. No need to use it,” Cang Lanyan replied.

Yin Ya clicked her tongue and reluctantly faced the Big Villain’s stern gaze as she retrieved the backup phone and data cable, heading back to her bedroom. The entire way, she pondered why the Big Villain was so angry.

The moment she tucked the backup phone deep into the storage cabinet, a sudden realization struck her.

Could it be… Cang Lanyan is actually empathizing with the phone?!

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