Transmigrated into a Villainess? I’m Going to conquer the Heroine!

Meng Yao’er’s message came through.

Meng Yao’er: In short, I took a risk to save time, got caught, he tried to kill me, I stabbed him twice, and by midnight, he was dead.

A single concise sentence—no details, no location, just people and results.

Tang Yuan’s emotions were complicated. She had thought she had stopped Meng Yao’er last time, yet in the end, her hands were still stained with blood.

But the one who died was scum. A social parasite. Not worth any sympathy.

Online, bits and pieces of Lu Shan’en’s dark past were being exposed. For now, they were holding back the information about his smuggling operations with Chu Yu. The plan was to eliminate Lu Shan’en first—so long as that key piece remained hidden, Meng Yao’er could step forward and divert attention, leading Chu Yu to focus on internal disputes within the Lu family instead.

Chu Yu was an arrogant man. He had one foot in both the legal and underground worlds, so secrecy was never his concern. He wasn’t afraid. The only reason he cared about the chaos in the Lu family was because losing an ally infuriated him.

As the public outcry mounted, the news of Lu Shan’en’s death broke—along with a video.

Tang Yuan finally saw the full sequence of events.

In the footage, Lu Shan’en barged into Meng Yao’er’s room with two tall, burly men. Judging by the scene outside the window, it had only just turned dark.

Without a word, he had her restrained and dragged to the Lu family’s basement—tied to the very operating table where he had tormented countless others. The vast underground chamber was empty except for the two of them.

Lu Shan’en, with eerie elegance, changed into a pristine white lab coat and slipped on a pair of sterile gloves at a leisurely pace.

“My dear little sister,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “I underestimated you. Did you really think you could kill me?”

He opened a surgical kit, his tone gentle yet chilling.

“All these years… you must have suffered. You must hate me, don’t you? Hate me for killing that wretched mother of yours?”

He let out a low chuckle.

“Perhaps I was too kind. Letting you live at sixteen—giving you the chance to bite back.”

Lu Shan’en lifted a slender scalpel, his expression contorting into a sinister grin.

“I’ll make sure you experience the most excruciating death imaginable.”

He stepped closer. Meng Yao’er said nothing, but she struggled fiercely against her restraints.

Then, the icy blade plunged into her abdomen. Blood seeped rapidly, staining her white shirt crimson. And at that moment—her shackles came undone.

She grabbed a scalpel from the nearby tray and thrust it toward Lu Shan’en’s throat.

Blood splattered onto her face. But her expression remained unchanged.

The force of her movement caused his scalpel to pierce straight through her abdomen.

Lu Shan’en collapsed onto the floor, losing all strength. Meng Yao’er, gritting her teeth, tumbled off the operating table and landed on him. Without hesitation, she drove the blade into his heart.

Her hands, her clothes—drenched in warm, sticky blood.

The video’s angle obscured her face. Her voice was lost in the silence.

At the very end of the recording, she just sat there—motionless—on Lu Shan’en’s rapidly cooling corpse.

Until the door burst open, and the police arrived.

——

Jiang Zi snatched Tang Yuan’s phone and frowned.

“Don’t watch it. It’s too gruesome.”

Tang Yuan snapped back to reality and cursed, “That bastard Lu Shan’en! He actually did something so insane to Meng Yao’er?”

“…She’s in the hospital now, right? That scalpel…”

The thought of the scene sent chills down her spine.

Lu Shan’en hadn’t killed her instantly—he wanted her to suffer.

Meng Yao’er was hurt, but she survived.

“Should we visit her?”

Jiang Zi scoffed. “She has people taking care of her.”

Because Meng Yao’er had planned this.

She had orchestrated her own capture.

The fact that she could produce years’ worth of footage from that underground operating room proved that she had long since gained control over it. She had even modified the operating table in advance.

She had gambled—with her own life.

And she won. She got her revenge.

But that reckless gamble had consequences.

Like lying in a hospital bed now, too weak to even lift a cup of water.

Like facing Su Qingyao’s tear-streaked face, with no words to explain herself.

Su Qingyao wiped her tears away, silently pressing a cup of warm water to Meng Yao’er’s lips, carefully helping her drink.

“…Qingqing.”

Su Qingyao averted her gaze, then placed the cup back on the table with a trace of defiance.

“Don’t talk.”

Meng Yao’er’s voice was hoarse, but she still tried to act spoiled.

“Qingqing, I was so scared I’d never see you again…”

“…He was cruel, but he never beat me. Don’t cry, okay?”

She wanted Su Qingyao’s sympathy.

But seeing her with swollen eyes, looking so lost and devastated, Meng Yao’er’s heart ached instead.

She hadn’t told Su Qingyao about her plan.

Because she knew Qingqing would never approve of her risking her own life.

If she had died that night—if her first stab had failed to kill Lu Shan’en—his men would’ve rushed in.

She hadn’t thought about what would happen if she died.

Because the only thought in her mind was—I cannot die.

When she faced Lu Shan’en, she had told him:

You should’ve known you’d die by my hand one day.

Lying in bed now, pale and exhausted, Meng Yao’er reached out weakly.

“Qingqing, hug me… it hurts…”

Su Qingyao stared at her for a long moment. Then, without a word, she turned away and walked toward the door.

Her voice was thick with emotion.

“Get some rest.”

Meng Yao’er watched her stumble out of the room, and realization dawned.

Did Qingqing already know the truth?

So she… doesn’t want me anymore?

Does she think I’m a murderer?

A sudden panic surged in her chest. She struggled to sit up, but the movement reopened her wound, fresh blood seeping through the bandages. The IV needle in her hand reversed its flow.

Barefoot, she stepped onto the cold floor and yanked the needle out.

“…Qingqing—”

“What are you doing?!”

Su Qingyao, who had barely left the room, rushed back in.

Seeing Meng Yao’er struggling to stand, she dashed forward, forcing her back onto the bed.

“Are you insane? You’re injured!”

She frantically pressed the call button. Soon, a nurse arrived to scold Meng Yao’er while tending to her IV and rebandaging her wound.

Back on the bed, Meng Yao’er gazed at Su Qingyao with tearful eyes—like a pitiful, abandoned puppy.

“…Qingqing, don’t leave, okay? Please don’t go…”

“When did I ever say I was leaving?”

“You didn’t hug me…”

Su Qingyao glared at her.

“You’re so unreasonable! Can’t I be mad at you?!”

Meng Yao’er’s eyelashes trembled. She lowered her gaze, looking pitiful.

“…Qingqing can be mad at me. But don’t leave.”