Pretend to be crazy

Shen Yan did not have myopia, but the original character wore glasses, meaning he was supposed to be highly nearsighted.

He squinted slightly and tilted his head up. In the dim moonlight, he could barely make out the person in front of him.

His body visibly relaxed, and his eyes lit up. He quickly said, “Zhixian, you know them, right? Please talk to them—there must be some misunderstanding.”

Ruan Zhixian responded, “answer my question.”

His expression was unreadable, and his gaze, cast from above, made Shen Yan instinctively show fear.

Swallowing nervously, Shen Yan stammered, “I… I was using my computer. It broke, so I wanted to take it to the recycling center. But I forgot to bring navigation, got lost by accident, and then…”

His voice grew smaller and smaller, and under the strange looks from others, he couldn’t lift his head.

The man in the suit cast a suspicious glance between Shen Yan and Ruan Zhixian.

This place was extremely remote. If someone came on foot from the lower city, it would take at least half an hour.

Although the mechanical recycling center operated 24/7 without staff, few would take their computer for recycling in the middle of the night—let alone get lost all the way out here.

Ruan Zhixian remained silent. Shen Yan’s arm, gripped behind his back, was aching. He tried to move, but it only brought harsher restraint.

He whimpered softly, “Zhixian…”

The man in the suit turned to Ruan Zhixian. “What’s your relationship with him?”

Ruan Zhixian: “No relation.”

Shen Yan froze, about to say something when the suited man cut him off and continued his aggressive questioning.

“Then how does he know your name? We were told that no one else should know about this. If we break the rule, everyone suffers the consequences.”

Ruan Zhixian looked at him coldly. “I said, no relation.”

Pinned to the ground, Shen Yan stared at him in disbelief. He stopped struggling and lowered his head, hiding his expression.

The suited man made up his mind.

The two clearly knew each other, but Shen Yan’s arrival had not been planned.

As for why he showed up at such a convenient time, that could be set aside. The real concern was the game.

Even if this weak-looking young man was some kind of tool or test sent by the organizers—or something else entirely.

As long as he could help them pass the game and win the money, there was no need to investigate his background or purpose.

He didn’t know the rules, didn’t know what was in the box, and was timid and easy to manipulate.

A perfect scapegoat.

The suited man let go of him, deliberately using some force.

Shen Yan tumbled to the ground, his coat picking up dust. Luckily, it was synthetic leather. He quickly got up and patted off the dirt.

The suited man handed him a card and ordered, “Go open that box.”

Shen Yan blinked. “Why?”

The suited man clicked his tongue, grabbed his shoulder, and punched him in the stomach.

Shen Yan doubled over from the blow, and the suited man shook his hand, slightly surprised.

His abs were quite firm—like someone who had trained.

A middle-aged man stepped forward, supported Shen Yan, and gave the suited man a disapproving glare. “You’re too reckless. He’s just an ordinary person.” Then, he spoke gently to Shen Yan, “Are you okay? By the way, I don’t think I caught your name.”

Clutching his stomach, Shen Yan straightened up and said gratefully, “My name is Shen Yan.”

The suited man sneered. “Stop pretending to be nice. Don’t you also want him to open your box?”

Each participant’s card was bound to their personal terminal, which was in turn linked to a spider bomb.

By transferring their card to Shen Yan and making him open the box, they could temporarily escape danger.

The middle-aged man sighed, his eyes instantly reddening. He clutched his card and spoke slowly:

“I wouldn’t ask the young man to do something so dangerous if I had any other choice. My son is only three years old, and my wife… She was stabbed during a robbery a few years ago. We couldn’t afford the hospital fees, so a black-market doctor gave her a kidney transplant. Every year, it costs hundreds of thousands to maintain her condition. I… I…”

His voice trembled, and he started sobbing.

A skilled actor.

In reality, this man had sold off his family and friends to pay off gambling debts.

Now, he looked genuinely heartbroken.

Shen Yan found himself comforting him.

“Sir, I don’t know exactly what’s happening here, but if you need my help, I’ll do my best.”

The middle-aged man quickly stuffed his card into his hand. “Really? Thank you so much! Just bind this card to your terminal, and then…”

A tall, lanky man suddenly kicked the middle-aged man aside and grabbed Shen Yan, eyes gleaming with manic enthusiasm.

“You know about Lotus, right? There’s a guy named Aino in Lotus—he’s my father. He’s got a high position in the organization. If you open my box, I can introduce you to Lotus. How about it?”

A stylishly dressed teenager scoffed from the side. “Aino? That guy’s just a bootlicker wiping people’s shoes. And you dare bring him up?”

The lanky man’s expression twisted with rage. He lunged at the teenager like a rabid dog.

The two started fighting.

The suited man pulled the middle-aged man back to keep him away from Shen Yan.

A woman, injured by a child’s knife, limped over to Shen Yan and suddenly knelt before him.

She had a figure that would attract men, her bare arms covered in intricate tattoos, and a faintly glowing information receiver implanted at the back of her neck.

Shen Yan was at a loss. He tried to help her up, but she clung to him, gripping his arms tightly.

She tried to force-bind her card to his terminal in silence.

A child ran over, grabbed her ankle, and yanked her away, cursing viciously.

It seemed they were husband and wife.

One by one, people fought to make Shen Yan bind their card, while others tried to stop them.

The situation, which had barely been stable due to Shen Yan’s presence, spiraled into chaos once more.

Ruan Zhixian watched the scene from a distance with a faint smirk. His gaze landed on Shen Yan.

Despite being treated so coldly, he still instinctively saw him as a savior, glancing at him every now and then.

Idiot.

An idiot—and gay.

Ruan Zhixian looked away and suddenly spoke, “Enough. You’re wasting time.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but since he hadn’t joined the fight, the others had kept an eye on him. No one wanted him to take advantage of the chaos.

But to their surprise, even now, he showed no intention of competing for “safety.”

The first to react was the suited man.

The game had a time limit. Once a card was bound, the terminal would display the remaining time.

There were only three hours left.

That was barely enough for solving puzzles or anything else.

The others gradually stopped fighting.

Ruan Zhixian threw his card on the ground. “Let him choose.”

The suited man sneered. “You two know each other. Who else would he pick?”

Ruan Zhixian shrugged. “Then exclude me.”

The others exchanged glances.

Ruan Zhixian: “Once he chooses, I can find the answer. Hurry up.”

Seeing his indifference, those who had suspected collusion between them felt reassured.

The first person to open a box had a 90% chance of dying.

Basically 100%.

Ruan Zhixian hadn’t told Shen Yan the rules—just like them.

That made things easier.

The suited man laid the collected cards before him like a fan and urged, “Pick one.”

Shen Yan: “What’s in the box?”

Faced with death, only now did he ask.

How had such a clueless person survived this long?

The man in the suit did not answer his question. Instead, he waved his fist in front of his face, openly threatening him: “Don’t ask. Just choose.”

Ruan Zhixian said, “Inside are bombs. You might die. The last person alive after the detonation will get ten million.”

The scene fell silent.

The innocent lamb, deceived and manipulated, suddenly learned the truth. His eyes widened in shock. The tall and thin man let out a furious roar and charged at Ruan Zhixian, only to be kicked down to the ground.

That kick must have been powerful—his face turned pale as he was sent flying and landed motionless on the ground.

His chest still rose and fell slightly; he wasn’t dead yet.

But even if he was, so what?

They were all doomed criminals anyway.

Ruan Zhixian knew that displaying his strength would prevent others from provoking him.

Shen Yan, however, seemed easier to threaten.

The man in the suit gathered up the cards and fanned them out in front of Shen Yan, spouting nonsense: “Don’t listen to that guy. If you—”

Shen Yan interrupted him. “I can open it. But I have a condition.”

The suited man found it amusing. Someone about to die was still bargaining for conditions?

Still, to keep him cooperative, he feigned understanding. “Alright, what is it?”

This time, Shen Yan fell silent. He closed his eyes and randomly selected a card. Number seven.

The suited man let out a breath of relief. This time, his blessing carried some sincerity. “Good luck.”

Shen Yan pressed his lips together and smiled slightly. Then, he walked up to Ruan Zhixian and stretched out his palm.

“Zhixian, give me yours.” He said, “I want to see if I can bind two cards at once.”

The moment he said that, not only Ruan Zhixian but everyone else was stunned.

Thirteen bombs, with only one offering a chance at survival.

It wasn’t that no one had thought about binding multiple cards at once—it was just that doing so had no advantage for oneself.

They were all here for the money. Who would risk their life for someone else’s benefit?

Ridiculous.

Yet this absurdity was unfolding right before their eyes.

Ruan Zhixian didn’t move. He lowered his gaze to Shen Yan. “You don’t need to repay me this way.”

Shen Yan smiled at him, then directly took his card and bound it himself.

Seeing this, the others crowded around, hoping Shen Yan would bind their cards too.

Unfortunately, the limit was two.

This hidden rule, not written in the game’s instructions, had been discovered and used up by Shen Yan before anyone else could exploit it. Frustrated, they had no choice but to retreat.

Now, Shen Yan was bound to two numbers—six and seven.

Two consecutive numbers.

Everyone else kept their distance, watching him anxiously.

It wasn’t that they feared death—they feared the explosion.

They worried that Shen Yan’s mild demeanor was an act, that he would try to escape.

The suited man was already prepared to chase him down if needed.

Standing before the paper bag, Shen Yan wasn’t nearly as tense as the others.

After all, he had carefully selected these two numbers.

One was the “Safe Bomb,” which would trigger all other bombs except itself. The other was the “Lucky Star,” which would deactivate all bombs upon detonation.

What would happen if both were activated at the same time?

The novel never gave an answer.

In the original storyline, it was a battle royale—everyone died at Ruan Zhixian’s hands.

Ruan Zhixian had merely set up the game to toy with their greed and fear, yet in the end, these tools became his personal playthings.

Even Ruan Zhixian, who had arranged the bombs, didn’t know which ones would explode and which wouldn’t. It was all random.

Holding the numbered cards, Ruan Zhixian had originally drawn six but casually swapped it for seven before binding it.

When he opened it—

All spider bombs, except for number seven, activated immediately, shooting toward their targets.

The entire abandoned building erupted into chaos. Even the corpses suffered secondary damage.

Seven was the Safe Bomb, and the one Ruan Zhixian originally had—number six—was the Lucky Star.

It was as if Death truly wanted to drag him to hell.

Yet God insisted on keeping him alive.

Thinking of how, in the original plot, Ruan Zhixian had tossed the number card away and walked off indifferently, Shen Yan mimicked his casual demeanor and opened both boxes at once.

Nothing happened. He picked up the small, intricate bomb and waved it at the others cowering in the corner.

“Looks like it’s broken,” Shen Yan said. “Want to try fixing it?”

On the way back, Ruan Zhixian didn’t speak to Shen Yan.

The sky was beginning to brighten. Shen Yan felt exhausted and drowsy, yet his mind was still buzzing with adrenaline.

He kept chattering beside Ruan Zhixian. “Zhixian, I know you did that for my sake. Distancing yourself in that moment gave us both a better chance of survival—I don’t blame you.”

“By the way, those spider bombs—were they really just bombs? So cool!”

Ruan Zhixian interrupted him. “What made you think of binding two cards?”

Shen Yan answered without hesitation, “Because of you.”

Ruan Zhixian chuckled.

Shen Yan scratched his head, lowering his voice. “You saved my life. I couldn’t just stand by and watch them threaten you, right?”

“After all, you’re really important to me.”

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery frost over the ground and the two figures walking down the quiet road. They hadn’t yet reached the city, so there was no neon light pollution.

Just a secluded path, with only the two of them.

It felt like the perfect moment for a confession.

Ruan Zhixian stopped and looked at him.

Shen Yan had fair skin, making his emotions impossible to hide. His flushed cheeks and reddened ears were even more noticeable than usual.

The so-called grateful “dead gay” had disrupted the game Ruan Zhixian had planned for a month, allowing everyone to escape unscathed.

Was it sheer luck?

Or had he been hiding his true nature all along?

Did he truly like him?

Or was it all an act?

He called softly, “brother.”

He grasped Shen Yan’s wrist, fingers trailing up his arm, brushing against his cheek, tilting his chin upward so their eyes met.

Under his thin, trembling eyelids, his uncertain gaze flickered with unease.

The night wind was cold, but the warmth of Shen Yan’s face made Ruan Zhixian’s palm feel like it was pressed against a furnace.

His thumb brushed over Shen Yan’s skin, making the other man blush even harder, unable to meet his gaze.

Their breaths mingled in the night air.

Ruan Zhixian lowered his voice. “You’re important to me too.”

He leaned in closer.

“Sometimes you stare at my face in a daze.” His voice carried a teasing smile. “Why?”

Shen Yan, his fingers trembling slightly as he weakly gripped Ruan Zhixian’s hand, thought: If this bastard keeps looking at me, I’ll punch him.

But what came out of his mouth was a soft and helpless plea: “Zhixian… don’t do this…”

Then, bracing himself for the worst, he squeezed his eyes shut.

This was a gamble.

He bet that the male lead wouldn’t suddenly kiss him just to test if he was actually gay.

A fleeting brush against his lips.

His eyes shot open in disbelief.

Ruan Zhixian’s expression was unreadable—neither happy nor disgusted.

“I hope I didn’t misunderstand your intentions.”

Shen Yan: (swears internally)

Did Ruan Zhixian really go that far?

Tonight had already been quite a shock for him.

Heh.

He took a deep breath, mentally boosting himself, then grabbed Ruan Zhixian’s collar and kissed him with a do-or-die attitude.

After all, his first kiss was already gone three seconds ago.

The male lead disgusted him first.

Thinking this, he clasped Ruan Zhixian’s nape and stuck out his tongue, brushing past his lips.

“Zhixian…” Shen Yan hugged him, timid yet bold, and murmured, “Kissing isn’t just like this, right?”

Ruan Zhixian didn’t show any signs of emotion, standing stiffly like a telephone pole.

But he still parted his lips, allowing Shen Yan’s tongue to slip inside.

On the way back with Ruan Zhixian, the latter said he had something to do and parted ways with him.

After returning home, Shen Yan brushed his teeth over a dozen times, using up nearly all of his toothpaste. The last four times were just rinsing his mouth.

His teeth were numb from the icy water.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he saw that his lips were red and swollen, the corners even split.

At first, he had endured the disgust and kissed him, but later, it seemed like the man’s competitive instincts took over—Ruan Zhixian turned the tables and nearly kissed him breathless.

However, Shen Yan believed that 80% of the suffocation was due to Ruan Zhixian choking him while kissing.

Near his Adam’s apple, there was a deep red mark encircling his neck. By morning, it would likely turn purple.

His voice was already hoarse, as if he were sick.

He thought, at some point, Ruan Zhixian had genuinely wanted to strangle him.

Next time, he should remain calm.

Reflecting on the events of the night, he finally lay down in bed, at ease.

The bar’s business hours were from 5 PM to 1 AM.

That meant he could sleep for at least five hours.

The exhaustion from the night quickly pulled him into sleep.

Unfortunately, he started dreaming.

In the dream, there was a raging sea of fire. Ruan Zhixian held him close, kissing him.

His arms wrapped around his waist, tongues entwined, and there was a faint taste of blood in their breath.

Three shadowy figures loomed nearby, crowding around them, staring intently and discussing with great interest.

“Yan’s face is so red,” said a tall shadow, reaching out to touch his face. “Can I kiss him later?”

Another, slightly thinner, slapped the hand away and said seriously, “Don’t disturb them. If the boss gets mad and takes him back to the bedroom, what then?”

The last one grabbed Shen Yan’s hand, licking and sucking his fingers. His fingertips turned soft and damp from the wet sensation.

The pervert murmured in a dazed voice—

“Mommy…”

Shen Yan woke up in terror.