Pretend to be crazy

Shen Yan swore he wasn’t gay.

And he could also swear that Ruan Zhixian wasn’t either.

Four times in three hours—eighty percent of it was just testing the waters.

On the way to the arena, he kept replaying what had happened in that room.

At first, the atmosphere between them had been somewhat awkward, each maintaining their assigned roles—one as a flirt who always ran away, the other as a hopeless, heartbroken secret admirer.

After a few exchanges, Ruan Zhixian started pressing him, trying to unmask his disguise and uncover his true motives.

“Didn’t you say you liked me? Why won’t you look at me?”

“I regretted it the moment I got home that day. Why did I push you away on impulse? Even Fei Shen knew you loved me.”

“I’m so jealous of that piece of clothing you held in your arms. It got to be close to you, to be cherished by you, while I could only stand here and watch from a distance.”

Shen Yan had nowhere left to retreat and found himself trapped in Ruan Zhixian’s embrace.

From above, Ruan Zhixian looked down at him, issuing a command in a tone that sounded almost like a plea: “hold me.”

Shen Yan knew exactly what he meant.

He was supposed to play the role of an unrequited lover, while Ruan Zhixian would step into the part of the one being adored, walking into his trap to see what he really wanted.

If he had had a month to prepare, he could have pulled out any random disguise to stall for time. But right now, he had nothing—everything was still in motion.

So he could only commit to the act, embracing Ruan Zhixian.

What kind of expression would a desperate admirer wear when finally holding their unattainable love?

Complicated, to say the least.

Thankfully, this part was easy to fake.

He held him tightly, burying his face in his neck, letting him feel only the faint dampness against his skin.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a lingering, lovesick tone: “Zhixian… I’m sorry… It’s my fault…”

Ruan Zhixian stiffened slightly.

Shen Yan’s heart leaped—he prayed Ruan Zhixian would push him away.

But instead, he did the exact opposite. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and kissed him roughly.

Without warning, his lips were pried apart, his breath stolen, his mouth invaded with force.

Shen Yan was caught off guard by the aggression. His first instinct was to push him away, but just as his hand reached for Ruan Zhixian’s collar, he suddenly realized—

A pitiful, devoted admirer would never feel offended by an unexpected kiss.

They would crave it.

Almost fell into the trap.

So instead of pushing, he grabbed hold of Ruan Zhixian’s collar with one hand and wrapped his other arm around his shoulder, turning what had started as a rough, one-sided, almost forceful kiss into something deeper and more entwined.

Ruan Zhixian was the first to pull away.

A thin strand of saliva stretched between them, disappearing in an instant.

Both of them, breathless, searched each other’s eyes for cracks in the performance.

They both knew it was an act, yet neither could find any flaws.

Shen Yan lowered his gaze and leaned closer, using the fabric of Ruan Zhixian’s shirt to wipe away the small bead of blood that had appeared on his lip.

The material was rough against his skin, a sharp contrast of warmth fading into tingling pain.

A streak of red stained Ruan Zhixian’s white shirt.

Shen Yan decided they had done enough and changed the subject, pretending to panic. “S-Sorry, I got your shirt dirty.”

If Ruan Zhixian wanted to stop, this would be his way out.

But clearly, he had no intention of stopping.

He stared at Shen Yan intently and uttered just four words:

“Bro, help me undress.”

Shen Yan sucked in a sharp breath.

He hesitated, half resisting, half yielding.

Most of his hesitation was real, but it was obvious Ruan Zhixian wasn’t about to back down—his patience had run out.

He undid two buttons of his own shirt, revealing his collarbone.

Then he said, “you want more than just a kiss, don’t you?”

A few seconds passed.

Ruan Zhixian kept his gaze locked onto him, guiding his hand to his third button.

“Undo it,” he commanded.

Shen Yan took a deep breath and steeled himself.

With trembling fingers and a flushed face, he undid the button.

Was this some kind of power play? Since he couldn’t win in a kiss, was he trying to regain control through this?

Hilarious.

The moment the last button came undone, Ruan Zhixian swept him off his feet, pushing him onto the bed before leaning down to kiss him again.

A cold hand slipped beneath his high-neck sweater, fabric bunching up as fingers traced upwards, pressing against his skin.

Ruan Zhixian curled his fingers slightly, and Shen Yan gasped, twisting slightly as if trying to escape, only to press his body closer instead.

Ruan Zhixian chuckled. “You don’t like it?”

Shen Yan shook his head. Then he quickly nodded.

Finally realizing how ridiculous he must look, he covered his flushed face with his hands, voice trembling.

“…Zhixian, stop messing with me.”

Ruan Zhixian wrapped his arms around him and laughed. “I take back what I said earlier.”

Shen Yan gripped his wrist tightly, trying to stop him from moving. “W-What?”

“You are cut out for acting.” Ruan Zhixian kissed him again, murmuring between kisses, “you’re a natural. I was blind to not see it before.”

For a moment, Shen Yan thought, Yeah, I really am extraordinary.

Then he pretended not to understand the deeper meaning behind those words and quickly averted his gaze. “It really feels weird, I’m not lying.”

He hesitated before glancing at Ruan Zhixian, then tested the waters with a single, hesitant jab. “If I pinch you, you’ll feel it too.”

Ruan Zhixian’s smirk deepened, though his eyes remained eerily calm.

Then he kissed him again.

And from there, things escalated.

“Sir, please sign here.”

A staff member handed a pen to Shen Yan.

He snapped out of his thoughts.

They had arrived at the arena’s preparation hall.

The dim yellow lights overhead cast shadows across the rugged, unpolished stone walls, making the place feel more like a cavern than a facility.

The other contestants came in all shapes and forms, their bodies modified with varying degrees of cybernetic enhancements—most of them at least fifteen percent mechanical.

The most extreme was a hulking half-machine man whose head was encased in a fluid-filled chamber inside his chest. He loomed over the others, an unmistakable warning to keep their distance.

Shen Yan averted his gaze.

He signed his name on the massive holographic screen as instructed.

The number at the top flickered, changing from 314 to 315.

The staff member handed him a black wristband.

“This is your life monitor,” the staffer explained with a smile. “Once you enter the arena, you can choose to forfeit your life at any time.”

The wristband was oversized at first, but the moment Shen Yan slipped it on, it automatically adjusted to fit snugly around his wrist.

The black light turned green.

The staff member was a little surprised: “You haven’t eaten anything?”

Shen Yan: “Eat what?”

The staff member looked around. The waiting hall was spacious enough to accommodate five hundred people with ease, and there was a significant distance between each person.

He took him to a corner and mysteriously pulled out a palm-sized syringe from his pocket. . Once injected, I guarantee you’ll be like the Red Devil. Want to try?”

Shen Yan took it and curiously flipped the syringe around. The liquid inside was an ominous shade of dark green, and faintly, he could see tiny worms wriggling within.

Seeing his interest, the staff member pulled out even more. “Not just this. We also have some internal goods—perfect for someone like you, a pure human with no modifications. You’re so healthy; the effects will definitely be even better than on experimental subjects.”

“Each injection lasts a full twenty-four hours, at the very least enough to get you through tonight,” the staff member continued enthusiastically. “And if you buy enough, we also provide complimentary corpse disposal services. A highly respected priest from District 13 will personally bless your remains and send you off. A quick escape from hell, a swift ascent to heaven.”

Shen Yan couldn’t help but laugh.

The people in this world had a good sense of humor—introducing a drug that would kill him and bundling it with funeral services as part of the sales pitch.

“How much?” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have much money…”

A subtle glint flashed through the staff member’s eyes, and his enthusiasm became noticeably more forced. “Who brought you onto this ship?”

Shen Yan: “Fei Shen.”

The staff member thought for a moment, vaguely recalling the name, then continued, “No problem. The new drug is only 30,000 per dose. The others are 25,000 each. If needed, you can take out a loan and put Fei Shen’s name down as guarantor.”

Shen Yan: “How many do you have?”

Staff member: “Seven doses.”

Shen Yan: “Is there a discount if I buy them all?”

“It’s already at rock-bottom price,” the staff member said, delighted that he had sold out all his stock for the night. “Let me find the loan contract, just a moment.”

Shen Yan: “No need. Just scan my face.”

Fei Shen had previously given Shen Yan a card with 500,000 credits on it. Even after this purchase, there was still plenty left.

Fei Shen never asked for repayment, only saying they would settle it once they were off the ship.

After buying the drugs, the staff member left happily while Shen Yan sat back down.

Tonight was the elimination match. Some of the seeded contestants didn’t have to participate; they would be watching from the stands with their sponsors.

Ruan Zhixian was one of the spectators.

The VIP sponsoring him was a major shareholder of Daylight Technology Pharmaceuticals, someone Ruan Zhixian had already arranged to work with in advance.

Using his hacker alias online, he had intervened in a power struggle between this shareholder and another, selling him critical information that secured his victory. In return, Ruan Zhixian received payment and arranged for himself to board the ship.

The shareholder had no idea that Ruan Zhixian himself was the mysterious hacker. He simply assumed that the hacker, being aware of the numerous underground deals happening on the ship, wanted to claim a share of the profits. Ruan Zhixian, playing the role of an ordinary service worker, was just another piece in his game.

Like Shen Yan, he was also a pure human with no modifications.

After winning his second match, the shareholder who had bet on him made a huge profit and became even greedier. By the third day, he arranged for Ruan Zhixian to undergo body modifications, wanting to ensure his continued winning streak.

Predictably, he turned the tables and killed him instead.

The modification intended for him ended up being forcibly applied to the shareholder himself—who later achieved quite impressive results in the tournament under Ruan Zhixian’s control.

This was the advantage of wearing multiple disguises.

Thinking of hackers naturally led to thoughts of the “pea princess” locked in her home. Shen Yan opened his terminal and checked their chat.

No new messages.

He closed it. Opened it. Closed it. Opened it again.

Repeated the process a dozen times.

[Blaze]: ?

[Blaze’s dog]: So nervous, about to go fight.

Shen Yan sent a photo of the drugs he had just bought.

[Blaze]: If you want to die with some dignity, you’d best not use that.

[Blaze’s dog]: Too late, already bought them. One dose cost 50,000.

A moment later, Shen Yan’s account balance increased by 400,000.

[Blaze]: Return them.

[Blaze’s most loyal dog]: Got it, bro! No problem, bro! Anything else you need, bro?

[Blaze]: Stay alive.