Transmigrating Into a Book, the Villain Becomes the White Moonlight!

51: Chapter 51 Lin Wan’s Unspoken InvitationShe had rarely—or rather, almost never—seen Su Bai laugh so heartily.

He was a completely different person from the Su Bai at school, who was always lazily slumped over his desk, disinterested in everything, or treated her with a cold and distant expression.

Vitality.

Yes, that was the word.

For the first time, she felt this vibrant, genuine vitality so clearly from Su Bai.

This vitality stemmed from the game world he had created with his own hands, and it infected everyone around him, including... herself, who was currently immersed in it.

“Su Bai,” she took the opportunity while returning to base to buy equipment to proactively turn and ask, “This minion wave is pushing in, do you want to take it? I can leave it for you.”

She was trying to understand the game’s resource allocation and also trying to communicate in a way he could accept.

“No need, take it yourself and farm up. I’m going to the bottom lane to help and see if I can break the stalemate.” Su Bai didn’t even turn his head, his attention still focused on his map and controls, answering crisply and decisively.

In truth, he didn’t have much personal opinion or ill will toward Lin Wan.

His coldness stemmed more from a deliberate effort to keep his distance due to the original plot and her status as the female protagonist; it was a strategic ’slacking off’ rather than being targeted at her personally.

Su Bai wouldn’t be like the Villains in some novels, meticulously plotting to woo the female protagonist to prove himself or fight fate, nor would he pointlessly look for trouble with the Protagonist or female protagonist just because he knew he was the Villain.

His philosophy was simple: don’t proactively provoke others, but if inevitably caught in a relationship, he was too lazy to bother forcefully sabotaging or escaping it.

His goal from the moment he transmigrated had been exceptionally clear: make good use of existing resources, eat well, drink well, have fun, live his own life comfortably, and do things that made him happy on the side—like recreating the games from his memory to play.

And now, he had clearly over-achieved this core goal.

As for whether the fiancée beside him was playing the game seriously or had other intentions, to him, it was far less important than the crucial team fight right in front of him.

However, during this brief period of harmonious gaming, a detail was keenly captured by Lin Wan—although Su Bai was focused on shot-calling, his phone screen seemed to stay lit, the notification light flashing from time to time, and his fingers would quickly tap the screen during gaps, clearly replying to someone’s messages.

She was sitting to his left, and Su Bai’s habitual sitting posture was slightly leaned back, which happened to block the phone screen completely from that angle.

What made this concern even more frustrating was that before the game match had even fully ended, Su Bai’s phone began to vibrate.

He glanced at the caller ID, his brow furrowing slightly, then hurriedly dropped a sentence to his teammates: “You guys play first, I have an urgent matter.” He then grabbed his jacket and strode out of the private room without looking back, not even having time to give the group much of an explanation.

Once Su Bai left, the lively atmosphere in the room cooled down quite a bit. Zhou Feng scratched his head and turned to Lin Wan with some embarrassment: “Class Monitor, uh... are you still playing? We can start another round.”

Lin Wan shook her head gently, her gaze still fixed on the doorway where Su Bai had disappeared. “No, I should be heading back too.”

As she spoke, she also stood up and began to pack her small handbag, which she had barely touched.

Her intention was actually quite obvious, and the few boys present exchanged knowing looks—the Class Monitor had come for Su Bai; now that the main attraction was gone, this task of accompanying them to play naturally came to an end.

Lin Wan walked quickly out of the internet cafe, the afternoon sunlight feeling a bit piercing.

She searched with her eyes and happened to see Su Bai opening the door of a black sedan by the roadside, preparing to get in.

“Su Bai!” She couldn’t help but call out to him.

Su Bai stopped his movements and half-turned around: “What is it? Is there something else?”

“Um...” Lin Wan walked closer quickly, her hands unconsciously tightening around her bag straps. She took a deep breath and mustered the courage to ask, “Do you... are you free Tuesday night? Do you want to... come to my house for dinner?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the invitation was a bit abrupt.

Sure enough, Su Bai showed a puzzled expression: “Did Uncle Lin ask for me?”

He thought Lin Feng had something else related to the game.

“Uh, no...” Lin Wan shook her head hurriedly, her cheeks heating up slightly, “It’s me...”

“I want to invite you—”

These few words rolled around on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn’t say them, missing the best opportunity.

Seeing her hesitating and remembering the phone call that couldn’t wait, Su Bai waved his hand and spoke decisively: “If it’s not Uncle Lin asking, then never mind. I probably won’t have time on Tuesday, I already have plans. I’m leaving now, we’ll talk next time if there’s anything.”

After saying that, he nimbly slid into the car. The door closed, and the sedan soon merged into the traffic, disappearing around the street corner.

This time, Lin Wan stood in place, watching the direction the car went, and for once, she didn’t feel immediately angry about being rejected.

In its place was a deeper sense of frustration with herself.

Tuesday was her birthday.

If she had just now... if she could have been more direct and said, “Tuesday is my birthday, I want to invite you to come,” it would have been fine.

Why couldn’t she just say it?

On the other side, Su Bai was completely unaware of Lin Wan’s convoluted thoughts.

He sat in the speeding car, his brow still not fully unfurrowed.

The message Mu Xue had sent earlier was brief but unusual: “Su Bai, can you come to the hotel now? I have something I want to tell you in person.”

This was very out of character. In the fixed pattern of the past year or so, the meeting times were usually decided by him; Mu Xue had never proactively, and especially not so urgently, contacted him.

He rushed to the hotel and swiped his card to enter the familiar suite.

Mu Xue wasn’t waiting or bathing as usual; instead, she was sitting upright on the sofa in the living room, her hands flat on her knees and her back straight.

Hearing the door open, she immediately looked up.

Mu Xue stood up from the sofa, her eyes shimmering with joy: “My father woke up! He woke up this morning!”

The first person she wanted to share this good news with was Su Bai.

In her heart, this miraculous joy only seemed complete if she told him.

Hearing this, Su Bai’s brow, which had been slightly furrowed from being interrupted, unconsciously smoothed out, and a string that had been inexplicably taut somewhere in his heart quietly relaxed—though even he hadn’t realized why he’d felt a trace of tension earlier.

He paced over to Mu Xue, his tone softening a bit: “That’s a good thing. Then why aren’t you staying at the hospital to keep him company, and instead ran over here?”

A person in a vegetative state waking up was a low-probability medical miracle in Su Bai’s understanding, but in this novel world, perhaps it had its own logic.

He didn’t look into it deeply; as long as the result was good news, it was fine.

“My father’s condition is still unstable after waking up, he drifts in and out of sleep. I stayed at the hospital all day, and my mom told me to come back and rest first,” Mu Xue explained, her voice carrying exhaustion, yet overflowing with a full, almost bursting happiness.