Pretend to be crazy

“Shen Yan? Has anyone ever told you that your name sounds really nice? And both of our names have just two characters—what a coincidence!”

“Th-thank you.”

“Now that we’re colleagues, don’t be so reserved. Think about how well we worked together on stage. Honestly, I might just fall for you.”

Shen Yan smiled shyly and dabbed some makeup remover onto a cotton pad, carefully pressing it over Jiang Sen’s exaggerated eyeliner. “You’re great too. This is my first time doing this kind of job—if it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be able to adapt.”

Jiang Sen turned to him, throwing a flirtatious wink. “Want to grab a drink after work?”

“I…”

Jiang Sen tugged at his arm. “Come on, not just me—some employees will be there too, even the boss.”

Shen Yan hesitated. “Uh… will Ruan Zhixian be there?”

Just outside the door, Ruan Zhixian, who was about to enter, paused.

Jiang Sen dragged out his words playfully. “Ohhh—Ruan Zhixian? You know him? Do you like him?”

“Of course not! He’s my neighbor. He introduced me to this job—I was just asking.”

Jiang Sen narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him.

Shen Yan continued removing his makeup gently. “He’s helped me a lot. Without him, I probably would’ve starved to death half a month ago.”

“Hah.” Jiang Sen rolled his eyes. “Then he sure is lucky.”

After a pause, he smirked. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?”

Shen Yan said, “The lucky one should be me, actually.”

Jiang Sen casually took Shen Yan’s hand and tilted his head to look at him. “No offense, but if it were me, and I could get an adorable, loyal, and beautiful little pup in exchange for a bit of nutrient solution and a job that he had to interview for himself…”

He rubbed Shen Yan’s fingers meaningfully and whispered, “Even if it cost me ten years of my life, I’d say it’s worth it.”

Panic flashed across Shen Yan’s face as he tried to pull his hand away, but Jiang Sen’s grip was firm. Instead, with a tug, he pulled him into his lap and trapped him there with an arm around his waist.

“Baby, do you have any idea how mesmerizing you are? Everyone, including me, is cheering for you. You—”

Knock, knock.

The crisp sound of knocking interrupted him.

A young man entered the dressing room uninvited, his expression calm.

Jiang Sen was caught off guard, while Shen Yan, face pale, scrambled off him as if he’d been burned, stumbling toward Ruan Zhixian’s side.

He didn’t dare to stand too close, only reaching out with two fingers to pinch the fabric of his jacket, hoping not to be noticed.

Ruan Zhixian met Jiang Sen’s dark expression with an indifferent gaze. “Sorry, I’m taking Shen with me. I’m afraid of the dark, so he’s walking me home. You don’t mind, do you?”

Jiang Sen sneered, locking his eyes onto Shen Yan. “Baby, my place is just nearby—180 square meters. I even bought some fresh fruits and vegetables yesterday. Have you ever had any? Want to try some?”

For fourth- and fifth-class citizens, fresh food was indeed a great temptation.

Ruan Zhixian turned to Shen Yan.

Shen Yan quickly shook his head and went from gripping the jacket with two fingers to holding it tightly in his whole hand, the fabric wrinkling under his grasp.

Ruan Zhixian glanced at his hand but didn’t brush him off. Instead, he turned to Jiang Sen and said, “He doesn’t want to.”

With that, he turned and left.

Shen Yan followed closely, feeling the burning intensity of Jiang Sen’s gaze from behind, even though the dressing room door remained open.

Once they stepped out of the bar, he exhaled deeply.

District 13 was in the north, and before October had even arrived, the nights were already chilly.

Shen Yan had been too focused on helping Jiang Sen remove his makeup and had left in a hurry, forgetting to take his jacket.

The night wind made him shiver, and the next second, a warm jacket was draped over his shoulders.

He blinked in surprise and turned to Ruan Zhixian. The other man was dressed even lighter than he was. He hurriedly tried to take the jacket off. “I’m not that cold. You should wear it—it’s just a short walk home.”

Ruan Zhixian said, “No. If I don’t want it, I’ll throw it away.”

He strode ahead, leaving Shen Yan behind as if he had made up his mind.

Ruan Zhixian couldn’t see the way Shen Yan looked at him from behind—couldn’t see the admiration in his eyes.

When reading a novel, people see things from the protagonist’s perspective. Even when the protagonist is cruel, their charm still makes them likable.

But now that Shen Yan had entered this world and was truly interacting with him, he realized that the man was exactly as terrifying as the book had described.

If he were just an ordinary person in this world instead of an outsider, would he really be able to resist Ruan Zhixian’s constant waves of care and concern?

Probably not.

Even though he knew he was dangerous, even though he knew this man was black-hearted through and through, he might still waver.

What was fiction, and what was reality?

Who else but Ruan Zhixian would treat him this well.

He lowered his gaze and reminded himself sternly:

Beneath the sweet words was a deadly trap. If he fell for it, only death awaited him.

Stay alert.

Stay alert.

Stay alert.

When they arrived home, he hurriedly took off the jacket and handed it back to Ruan Zhixian.

Ruan Zhixian pushed it back. “I don’t like using things other people have used. Keep it.”

Shen Yan, too poor to afford proper clothes, only had a thin jacket that barely kept him warm.

Tomorrow’s temperature would drop sharply, and today’s tips were just enough to pay this month’s “living fee,” approved by the local management. To have even a semblance of warmth and enough food, he’d have to wait until next month.

Shen Yan hugged the jacket, clearly not believing the excuse. He saw it as a gesture of care meant to spare his pride. Looking up at Ruan Zhixian, his eyes glowed softly.

“Thank you.”

Then he hesitated, lowering his head in frustration. “I’ve said ‘thank you’ so many times but haven’t done anything to repay you. I’m sorry.”

Ruan Zhixian suddenly said, “That’s unfair.”

Shen Yan looked up in confusion. “Wh-what?”

Hands in his pockets, Ruan Zhixian stood under the dim, ambiguous yellow light of the hallway. His gaze, fixed on Shen Yan, held a mix of mischief and something unreadable.

“Then repay me.”

Shen Yan’s eyes darted around nervously, avoiding his gaze. Too anxious, he stammered, “O-of course! Tell me! I—I can do it!”

Ruan Zhixian commanded, “Put on the jacket.”

Shen Yan didn’t understand at first.

Ruan Zhixian’s face darkened. “You can’t?”

Shen Yan panicked and, blushing, scrambled to put the jacket back on.

It was too big on him—Ruan Zhixian’s clothes were a size up. The shoulders drooped, and the sleeves were too long, making him look small and out of place.

Ruan Zhixian smirked. “Turn around. Walk three steps forward.”

Shen Yan hesitated but followed the instructions.

Behind him, he could hear Ruan Zhixian’s voice, tinged with amusement at his successful prank.

“Go home and sleep. That’s your last task.”

“Good night.”

Shen Yan spun around suddenly, but the door closed swiftly before him.

Back in his apartment, Ruan Zhixian, just like last time, inexplicably pulled up the surveillance footage of his front door.

As expected, Shen Yan didn’t go inside right away. He lingered for a few seconds, raising his hand as if to knock on the door.

Perhaps afraid of disturbing him, or maybe worried that not following the joking order would annoy him, he ultimately lowered his hand.

He walked out of frame.

There was nothing else worth watching.

Just as he was about to turn off the footage, he suddenly heard a faint sound—a deep inhale, as if someone were taking in a scent intensely.

Then, an even softer, satisfied sigh.

“…Ha…”

On instinct, he muted the audio—only to turn it up to maximum volume a second later.

The high-quality surveillance system didn’t just provide ultra-clear visuals but also transmitted sound as if it were happening right next to him.

After three repeated, strange breaths, he finally heard an indistinct murmur of his own name.

“…Zhixian’s…clothes.”

“Hehe.”

The loud closing of the door echoed at maximum volume.

Expressionless, Ruan Zhixian turned off the footage.

Disgusting.

Meanwhile, Shen Yan casually tossed the jacket aside.

With no surveillance in his own home, this time he actually laughed out loud.

Hehe, Ruan Zhixian might be terrifying, but he wasn’t bad either.

With this level of acting, if he ever made it back to his world, he’d have to convince his family to invest in making a movie.

Unfortunately, there was no going back.

Being hit and run over by a massive truck—no matter how he thought about it, there was no way he could have survived.

It must have been some long-time enemy targeting his family.

But it wasn’t a big deal.

He had plenty of siblings. They might be sad about his death, but it wouldn’t affect their daily lives too much.

He had come to terms with it.

No matter the world or the circumstances, he had to live well.

That was what his family taught him.

After resting for a bit, he remembered his stellar performance tonight—the act he put on for Ruan Zhixian—and immediately felt reinvigorated.

He jumped out of bed.

His work wasn’t done yet.

If acting gay could keep him at a distance, that would be ideal. But if not, he needed a backup plan.

Ruan Zhixian was a hacker. That meant he had to learn some hacking skills too.

Even if he couldn’t reach a top-level standard quickly, he needed to know enough to bluff his way through interactions.

He opened his computer, pulled up the half-read e-book from yesterday, and, on the side, switched to a more elegant male stripper performance.

This time, he wasn’t learning how to dance—he just had trouble focusing on a single task and needed something to divide his attention.

Before diving into studying, he opened the dark web and browsed the beginner’s section of a hacker forum.

He could understand a bit of it now, but it would take at least half a month before he could convincingly fake expertise.

His message to the site administrator still hadn’t gotten a reply—it just sat there alone in the black chat window.

As expected.

He was just testing his luck anyway.

In the novel, one of the main group’s allies—Blaze, an arsonist and the second most skilled hacker outside of the protagonist—had connected with the protagonist through this site.

With the protagonist’s help, Blaze burned down his entire family estate and set fire to the entire Seventh District, becoming one of the Federation’s most infamous criminals.

But because of his hacking skills, he quietly altered his own arrest records in the central database. Even if tracking machines were right in front of him, they wouldn’t recognize him.

Right now, he was probably still imprisoned at home, undergoing brain modifications, viewed as a mere tool by his family to curry favor with the higher-ups.

Shen Yan left the site open and quickly skimmed through his book.

Just as he clicked on the next chapter, the text glitched into black question marks.

He switched back to the website.

The chatbox showed that someone was typing.

He ignored it, opened the stripper video, and resumed reading.

After just two lines, the screen suddenly went black, and white characters appeared, flickering.

I found you.

The screen flashed and rebooted, but this time, it remained locked on the chat window.

Shen Yan didn’t bother trying to close it. Without hesitation, he started typing.

[User0982]: Don’t believe you.

[User0982]: Send me an ExtremeShadow 18 Pro Max 512G Lightning Purple to prove your skills.

[Blaze]: ?