Pretend to be crazy

At first, Warren only had a vague shadow of his lover in his mind—he didn’t know exactly what he loved.

It was Shen Yan who gave that shadow a concrete form.

From then on, even if he wanted to search for someone else, he would unconsciously seek out the image of a lover that Shen Yan had constructed.

Shen Yan met his scrutinizing and slightly angry gaze while casually thinking about how effortlessly he played the role of a coquettish wife. He clung to Warren, resting against his chest, teasing him.

“Honey, someone’s knocking on the door outside. What should we do?”

“I’m so scared.”

His voice was pleasant to the ear, each syllable intentionally soft and connected, carrying a hint of laughter that made one’s bones go numb.

Warren’s jaw muscles tightened, his lower jaw tensed, and veins bulged on his clenched fist. He looked as if he wanted to chew Shen Yan up and swallow him whole.

He wanted to say something fierce, something to make this liar afraid and back off, but in the end, all he could force out was:

“Don’t call me ‘honey.’”

Shen Yan looked innocent and aggrieved. “But you clearly liked it when I called you that before. Every time I said it, you’d get so excited. You’d kiss me fiercely, pick me up, and then…”

“Shut up!”

Blushing, Warren shoved him hard. Because he lost control of his strength in his agitation, Shen Yan was thrown two or three meters away, crashing into the edge of the bed with a dull, painful-sounding thud.

His pupils trembled, and his toes instinctively shifted as if he wanted to help. But the violent shaking of the door behind him brought him back to his senses. Warren stood firm, casting a cold and contemptuous glance at Shen Yan.

“I won’t kill you, but don’t try to seduce me either. What you did in the past—I’ll let that go. But if you dare lie to me again…”

He removed the doorknob with one hand, twisting the steel handle out of shape before tossing it at Shen Yan’s feet with a clang.

Shen Yan lowered his head, his long black hair falling to obscure his expression, making it difficult to discern whether he was afraid or not.

Warren barely managed to drag his gaze away from him, opened the door, and brushed past Blaze.

Blaze had heard everything from outside.

“Honey,” “seduce,” “kiss”…

Liar.

But Shen Yan hadn’t lied to him.

He hurried forward to help Shen Yan up.

Shen Yan’s physique wasn’t bad. Although Warren had shoved him forcefully, the impact wasn’t too severe. Only his lower back had slammed into the bed’s edge, causing some pain.

He just needed a moment to recover.

Once he stood upright, he rubbed his waist, twisted left and right to make sure he hadn’t injured any bones, and then turned to Blaze. “Thanks.”

He was about to walk outside to check on the villa’s setup when Blaze blocked his way. When he moved left, Blaze moved left; when he moved right, Blaze moved right. Finally, Shen Yan stopped and said calmly, “Move.”

“Shen Yan.” Blaze locked eyes with him. “I’m not like that man.”

Shen Yan didn’t understand. “What?”

Blaze said, “You can lie to me too. Or…” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You can call me ‘honey.’”

People tend to laugh when they’re speechless.

“Your thought process is as bizarre as Little Blaze’s.” Shen Yan moved toward the window, deliberately widening the distance between them. “Instead of rushing to be deceived, why don’t you go talk to Warren and help him sort himself out?”

Sensing Shen Yan’s rejection and vague displeasure, Blaze didn’t stubbornly push forward. He simply stood his ground, staring at him.

Shen Yan, unnerved by his gaze, clicked his tongue in frustration. “You’re not a stray dog, and I’ve never adopted you. Don’t look at me like that.”

The room fell silent again. Blaze’s stare made Shen Yan feel like he was sitting on needles. Eventually, he sighed and beckoned him over. “Come here.”

Blaze instantly appeared by his side, his brows relaxing as he focused on him.

Shen Yan was completely out of patience. He lightly punched Blaze’s shoulder. “Alright, say something.”

People familiar with Shen Yan’s temper knew that this was his way of offering a truce, a step toward reconciliation.

Blaze lowered his gaze, capturing him entirely in his eyes.

He knew exactly what he needed to do at this moment.

He restrained his emotions, tentatively reaching out to take Shen Yan’s hand.

Shen Yan didn’t resist. His eyes shifted from their interlocked hands to Blaze’s face.

“Friends…” Blaze said softly. “If you want, we can always be friends. I’ll stay exactly where you set the boundaries.”

“Just don’t ignore me, okay?”

Kissing, confessing feelings, being on the verge of intimacy—what kind of “friendship” was this? But hearing Blaze say it, Shen Yan couldn’t help but feel relieved. He hugged him tightly.

From an angle he couldn’t see, Blaze smiled, savoring the embrace and inhaling the scent unique to Shen Yan.

If this identity allowed him to hold Shen Yan, kiss him, and be loved by him sincerely, then being a “friend” didn’t seem so bad.

Just as the two were basking in the warmth of reconciliation, a cold voice interrupted them.

“Mom.”

Falson had somehow appeared in the room, standing beside them, staring at Shen Yan expressionlessly. “You two seem very happy hugging. Can you make me happy too?”

Shen Yan: “……Ahem.”

Only now did he realize the awkwardness of the situation and tried to step away from Blaze.

Blaze shot Falson a warning look. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Falson sneered. “Then where should I be? Under the bed? On the ceiling? You can’t treat Mom like yourself. After all, Mom already said—you’re just friends, aren’t you?”

Shen Yan struggled again, and this time Blaze let go. Seeing the gap between them, Falson immediately stepped in between, forcefully widening the distance.

Shen Yan didn’t hug him, but that didn’t mean Falson wouldn’t hug him. He wrapped his long limbs around him, shot Blaze a vicious glare, then turned his head and switched to a pitiful tone:

“Mom, you’re so cold. Did Ruan Zhixian say something he shouldn’t have? He’s shit—you shouldn’t listen to him.”

Shen Yan: “Stand up and talk properly.”

Falson whined, “No, Mom’s arms are so warm. I want to stay in them forever. I want to drink Mom’s milk—I love Mom so much.”

There was a sentence in the middle spoken too fast to be fully understood, but given the sharp hearing of everyone present, their minds processed the information before they could react.

Blaze’s expression turned pitch-black. He wanted to pry him off, but Shen Yan moved faster. He grabbed Falson’s hair, kneed him hard in the stomach. Falson groaned and bent over, and Shen Yan clamped his hand around the back of his neck, slamming him to the floor.

Falson tried to get up, but Shen Yan stepped on his chest and pressed him down again, looking down at him condescendingly. “Did you forget what I told you before?”

Falson grabbed Shen Yan’s foot, panting as he laughed and complained, “But if I don’t call you that, you won’t even look at me. You hug and smile at some random bastard—Mom, what does he have that I don’t?”

His cold fingers traced up Shen Yan’s shoe, sliding past his pant leg to touch his ankle and calf, gripping them tightly.

“And I completed my mission properly. Mom, you promised me I could eat. So why are you reacting so strongly when you hear that?”

“Is it because of Ruan Zhixian, or is it someone else in this room?”

“Should I just kill them all? The two of us can stay here, in this bed. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

He was too agitated, speaking faster and faster, his words losing all coherence. Shen Yan stared at him for a few seconds and suddenly smiled.

“Falson, you seem very dissatisfied with me. Are you complaining?”

Excitement flickered in Falson’s eyes, as if he could already see a scene he longed for. He swallowed hard and, in a saccharine tone, said, “How could I? I just feel like I can’t sense Mom’s love. It makes me so sad I can’t help but say it out loud. Mom won’t blame me, right?”

Shen Yan turned to Blaze. “You, get out.”

Blaze, as if waking from a dream, exhaled slowly. He had been so shaken by Shen Yan’s aggressive side that he had unconsciously held his breath, staring unblinkingly, afraid to miss a single second.

Shen Yan asked him to leave, and he didn’t argue. He obediently stepped out.

The bedroom door, damaged by Warren, didn’t close properly, leaving a gap. From inside, the sounds of a violent struggle, mixed with Falson’s excited, shrill laughter, filtered through.

Blaze clutched his rapidly pounding chest and touched his heated face. After confirming that Shen Yan didn’t need him, he finally left for real.

—

Shen Yan advocated for peaceful education.

If things could be resolved with words, he would use words—unless a child made a severe mistake and showed no remorse. Generally, he wouldn’t resort to violence.

Falson was different.

He purely needed a beating.

If he wasn’t hit, he wouldn’t speak properly, and communication would be impossible.

Of course, too much beating wouldn’t work either. If the balance was off, there was always the risk of him snapping and stabbing someone.

Shen Yan lit a cigarette and took a puff before remembering that the little psycho was still a minor. He extinguished the cigarette, waved away the smoke, unbuttoned two buttons to cool off, and turned to look at Falson, who was lying obediently on the bed.

Falson gazed at him, dazed. Every wound on his body hurt just the right amount. Mommy’s slaps were so affectionate. It was no wonder that bastard liked Mommy too. No one could dislike Mommy.

The bedroom was spacious. Shen Yan found a first-aid kit in the bedside drawer—apparently, Ruan Zhixian had anticipated this situation. The kit was well-stocked.

In the last compartment of the left bedside drawer, there was even a white lily. Attached to the flower stem was a note with a simple smiley face drawn on it.

Shen Yan’s mind worked fast. After figuring out Ruan Zhixian’s intentions, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

He and Ruan Zhixian had slept together twice. Ruan Zhixian should have known by now that he had absolutely no interest in sleeping with men.

Throwing him into this room with three people, each of whom had an emotional entanglement with him for one reason or another—then making sure he found no condoms in three separate drawers, and finally, adding a white lily, a symbol of purity, as a subtle taunt.

It was obvious. It was all meant to disgust him, to imply that the reason he didn’t sleep with other men was because he was “saving himself” for Ruan Zhixian.

Ridiculous.

Shen Yan casually tossed the flower aside and began treating Falson’s wounds while pondering what game Ruan Zhixian was playing this time.

The white lily was just a petty trick to annoy him. It was a mere decoration in the grand scheme of their power struggle. The real goal was something else.

According to the original storyline, after rescuing Warren, Ruan Zhixian was supposed to take the group to Paradise Island in District 12, using the excuse of finding them lovers or mothers, all while engaging in a massive slaughter.

But now, the plot had changed. Because of his influence, Falson and Warren had already found their respective “targets,” and Blaze, who was supposed to join the team much later, had entered the scene early. This meant Ruan Zhixian’s plans for Paradise Island would definitely shift.

Ruan Zhixian wanted to kill him.

But for the Paradise Island arc to begin, Falson and Warren needed a strong enough motivation. The carrot dangling in front of the donkey had to remain out of reach.

Shen Yan was that carrot—one that had already been bitten into.

No wonder Ruan Zhixian locked him up with these three. A heart’s illness needs a heart’s cure. If he died mysteriously, the two of them would never let it go. Whether for revenge or something else, they likely wouldn’t follow Ruan Zhixian’s plan.

But if he died in the most raw, exposed way possible—at their hands—if they came to realize that their perfect lover and revered mother figure was nothing special, they would naturally redirect their focus elsewhere.

Shen Yan applied the antiseptic a little too forcefully, making Falson inhale sharply. Shen Yan glanced up at him, then discarded the cotton swab and blew gently on his wound.

“Alright, don’t get it wet for the next few days. It’ll heal soon.”

Falson tugged at Shen Yan’s sleeve hesitantly.

Shen Yan didn’t need to think to know what he wanted. He patted Falson’s face, which was now smeared with medicine. “Wait until your wounds heal, then we’ll talk.”

Falson was stunned for a moment before he lit up with excitement. “Really? Mo… Brother, swear it! If you go back on your word, I’ll die in front of you!”

Shen Yan paused while packing up the first-aid kit and chuckled. “That would actually be a win for me, wouldn’t it?”

Falson shamelessly clung to his arm, taking advantage of the remnants of Shen Yan’s sympathy for his injuries. “If I can’t have it, I might as well die.”

Shen Yan, who had now mastered dealing with psychos, felt better than ever. He ruffled Falson’s hair and smiled. “Then behave and heal up. Once you’re better, we’ll find a place where no one else is around. Sound good?”

“Good!” Falson pushed his luck further, hugging Shen Yan’s arm and cooing, “Brother, can I sleep with you tonight? I’m different from them. I’m still underage—I can’t do anything.”

Shen Yan gave him a deadpan smile and pried his arm away. “This villa has two master bedrooms and four guest rooms. Even if I split you in half, each half would still have its own bed. No need to squeeze in with me.”

Falson wanted to say more, but Shen Yan was already at the door, looking at him calmly as he tried to follow.

Having just been disciplined, Falson was in a semi-obedient mode and obediently lay back down.

Shen Yan left.

The living room was empty and silent. After glancing around, he headed for the kitchen.

The fridge was packed with food labeled for their consumption over the next seven days. Too lazy to cook, Shen Yan grabbed some bread and ate while casually searching for surveillance cameras.

He found three in the kitchen. There were probably even more elsewhere.

He was watching.

He wondered if the earlier scene had met his expectations.

—

Before entering the villa, Shen Yan had been well-rested, and his biological clock had become healthy.

Just after 11 p.m., he felt drowsy. After finishing a final round of gaming with Blaze and Falson, he went upstairs to sleep.

He was about to drift off when a knock sounded at his door.

Dragging his feet, he went to open it, thinking that if it was Falson, he’d have to beat him again.

But it wasn’t him—or Blaze.

It was Warren.

Warren remained silent, standing at the doorway with a somber expression as he stared at him. The dim hallway lighting cast a shadow over his face, making him look like a crazed killer from a horror movie—unpredictable and ready to lash out at any moment.

But in Shen Yan’s personal ranking, Warren’s danger level was still lower than Falson’s.

This guy was ruthless and had taken many lives, but he had principles and logic. He might look terrifying, but in reality, he was the type to argue first and fight later—a semi-rational kind of person.

Shen Yan waited for a while, but since Warren showed no intention of speaking, he yawned impatiently.
“If you have something to say, just say it. I’m really tired.”

Warren’s face darkened further, as if he was suppressing something. Finally, he muttered, “…I’m sleeping with you.”

Seeing how unwilling he looked, Shen Yan chuckled.
“You hated me during the day, and now you’re trying to climb into my bed in the middle of the night? Does that seem appropriate?”

Warren didn’t answer. Instead, he strode into the room, his movements stiff. The master bedroom’s bed was large enough to fit three people easily.

Shen Yan had already been lying down for quite a while, and his body heat had warmed the sheets. Warren lifted the blanket and got in, lying down straight as a board, eyes wide open.

The bedding was soft, and a gentle, warm scent lingered in the air. He frowned and turned his head toward Shen Yan, who was settling in beside him.
“Don’t wear perfume. It smells bad.”

Shen Yan, already closing his eyes, responded lazily, “Noted.”

A few seconds later, Warren asked again, “What kind of perfume?”

Shen Yan, exercising patience, replied, “Shampoo.”

“It smells bad.”

“Mm.”

Just as Shen Yan was about to fall asleep, Warren suddenly asked, “Why did you become a conman?”

Shen Yan groaned.
“Warren, I have no interest in sharing my life story with you at 1:30 a.m. If you keep talking, I’ll kill both of us right now.”

Warren fell silent.
“…Oh.”

Shen Yan had no trouble sleeping anywhere. He often shared beds with friends, so having someone next to him wasn’t an issue. His breathing soon became steady and deep.

He had truly fallen asleep.

Warren carefully turned his head to look at him.

It was too dark to see clearly, but Shen Yan’s face was already etched into his memory. He could easily picture how he looked while sleeping.

Ruan Zhixian had told him that he was a liar—not only did he not love him, but he didn’t even see him as a person, just a tool to be used, no different from those researchers.

But lying next to him like this, he couldn’t help but waver.

Had he misunderstood Shen Yan? Had he hurt him? Was that why he had stopped calling him “husband”?

If they weren’t close, why would he sleep so soundly next to him?

Maybe he had just been angry and said something spiteful. After all, he had always been the scheming type. If he wasn’t, how could he have made him fall so hard that he even changed his sexual orientation?

The more Warren thought about it, the more convinced he became. And as his doubts faded, so did his inner turmoil.

Originally, he had come here to distance himself—to break his attachment. But now, he felt there was no need.

He turned over and, without making a sound, pulled Shen Yan into his arms.

Half-asleep, Shen Yan didn’t feel any danger. He simply adjusted his position and continued sleeping.

His complete lack of vigilance made Warren even more certain of his conclusion. He felt at peace.

Feeling settled, Warren started to feel drowsy himself. He pressed a soft kiss to Shen Yan’s hair before closing his eyes.

Click.

A nearly imperceptible mechanical sound echoed in the darkness. Then came the faint noise of a window being pushed open—so subtle that it could easily go unnoticed.

A figure slipped into the room and, grinning to himself, lifted the blanket—only to suddenly sense something was wrong.

In the darkness, Falson and Warren locked eyes across Shen Yan’s sleeping form.

Falson’s mind went blank for a second before instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he struck out with a blade in his left hand, aiming straight for Warren’s carotid artery.

But Warren was no easy target. He caught Falson’s wrist effortlessly, gripping it tightly. The mechanical components in Falson’s artificial arm strained under the pressure, wires sparking and crackling in protest as a brief burst of white light flared in the darkness.

A fight broke out.

The movements became increasingly violent.

“Right. I’m dead now,” Shen Yan murmured in a deadpan tone, trapped between them. “How about this? I leave, and you two can sleep together instead. Sound good?”