Pretend to be crazy

“I was the one who pursued you.”

“The first time I saw you was at the military competition on campus. It was a desert map, and by the end, all the other students had given up, except for you. You stared at that flag, and your eyes were filled with a desire for victory. It felt like there was a raging fire burning inside you. The light from that fire could have scorched my eyes, but I couldn’t look away, not even for a second.”

Below the deck, between the second and first levels of the ship, the captain had added an extra level—narrow, low, and filled with a faint musty smell. This was where the stowaways who had paid a hefty price to board the ship rested.

Shen Yan and Warren, one dead and the other an escaped lab subject, couldn’t show themselves on the upper decks right now.

Besides, with Shen Yan releasing Warren, not only were the researchers in a panic, but the aristocrats who got wind of the news likely wished they could flee the ship on the spot.

It must be chaos upstairs by now.

With such a major upheaval, the cowardly aristocrats would probably contact external forces today. Once the rescue teams arrive and the crowd disperses, Ruan Zhixian wouldn’t be able to continue his human experimentation games.

The key points of the plot: one is Warren, and the other is the bomb.

The disappearance of Warren might mean that the gladiatorial arena can’t continue and that Ruan Zhixian loses the chance to meet him. The chaos Warren caused on the ship would also be absent.

The bomb, on the other hand, prevents Ruan Zhixian’s game from having a perfect conclusion.

As a criminal, Ruan Zhixian had a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder. A “game” needed a beginning, a middle, a climax, and an ending. All forms should be under his control. Anything that would disrupt his plan would be unacceptable and needed to be corrected or adjusted.

Now that Shen Yan had disrupted his plan by using his clairvoyant ability, I wonder how he would feel.

Angry? Or pleased?

Probably neither. After all, he was a peculiar kind of pervert.

Warren, who was holding Shen Yan, noticed that his mind seemed to wander and assumed his boyfriend was lost in their sweet memories. He couldn’t help but pull him a little tighter.

“Go on.”

Shen Yan snapped out of his thoughts and casually fiddled with Warren’s big hand.

Warren’s hand was calloused. In this society, joining the military was the fastest way to rise to the upper echelons, and before participating in the experiments, Warren had been striving toward that goal. His physical condition had always been good.

Shen Yan was a healthy adult male, but Warren’s super strength allowed him to easily lift him with one hand, pinning him under his chest.

So his identity couldn’t be that of a fighter.

He continued fabricating the story: “I was studying Federal Language and Literature at the military academy. After I left, I immediately tried to contact you, but you didn’t like men. You always ignored me, and the love letters I wrote were never read.”

“I came to your school, but you told me to leave, saying you were disgusted by me and didn’t like me, this useless piece of trash.”

At this point, he shot a resentful and angry look at Warren.

“Sorry,” Warren chuckled, his deep voice vibrating from his chest. “But you still love me.”

Shen Yan sighed, then smiled sweetly and kissed his chin, quickly pulling back into his arms.

Warren laughed again. “Then what?”

Shen Yan, not very skilled at playing the role of a delicate lover, thought of the romance novels he had read. He smiled and said:

“I was upset for a while and tried to forget you. But whether it was day or night, your stubborn and unwilling eyes would always appear in my mind… I couldn’t forget. Instead, I made myself go crazy.”

“My mentor and I had a good relationship. Seeing my bad condition, he left the overseas training position for me. I went to your school to be your teacher, and then…” he paused. “Well, after a series of events, we ended up sleeping together.”

Warren could tell from his unfinished words that things hadn’t been so simple.

There was no way he would suddenly turn soft and gentle toward someone he hated, let alone sleep with them. So Shen Yan had likely used some harsh, underhanded methods to force him into the relationship.

The fact that he hadn’t torn him apart back then and that he was still alive to rescue him now meant that Shen Yan wasn’t entirely unwilling in this relationship.

That’s love.

Complex, unpredictable, and captivating.

Warren analyzed the version of himself in Shen Yan’s story seriously. He slid his hand under his shirt, feeling his soft muscles. Shen Yan was relaxed, his body soft to the touch.

But Warren was far stronger and larger. His hand easily covered most of his waist, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much determination Shen Yan must have had to consume him back then.

Shen Yan had thought about Warren’s reaction by now, and Warren was much more understanding than he had imagined. However, his touch didn’t suggest he wanted to take things further.

But as a clumsy wife, he couldn’t show that he was handling things with ease. He had to always seem like he was yearning for Warren, and any action Warren took would make a huge impact on him.

He controlled his breath, gently shaking his head at Warren’s hand. “…No, let’s wait until we get back.”

He said that, but looking at Warren’s eyes, which were filled with desire, it was clear that he wasn’t about to stop.

Warren’s feelings were complicated. A growing sensation within him felt almost tangible, as his senses sharpened. The tip of his tongue inexplicably tasted sweet.

He pulled his hand back, teasingly watching as Shen Yan looked confused, then lowered his eyes, his furry head brushing against his arm. He spoke softly: “You never used to listen to me like this.”

Then, thinking of something, Shen Yan’s face slowly turned red. He looked up at Warren, his eyes flickering, “Do you really want to wait until we get back?”

Warren held his breath, his mind blank. His heartbeat seemed to stop.

He suddenly rolled over, pinning Shen Yan beneath him, and the thin metal of the makeshift bed creaked under their weight.

Shen Yan stared quietly at him. They locked eyes in the stifling heat of the room, the strange atmosphere spreading. Warren’s lover smiled faintly, slowly closing his eyes.

But Shen Yan didn’t receive the kiss he was expecting.

Warren flipped over again, leaping off the bed, and hurried out of the room, leaving only the hasty words: “I’m going to find something to eat. I’ll be back soon.”

Lying on the bed, Shen Yan waited until he had truly left before he took a sharp breath.

He was terrified, clutching his chest, shaken by the sudden realization.

Holy shit!

Had Warren’s body modification changed that as well?

That’s insane!

He had initially planned to make up some excuse and part ways with Warren after disembarking, but now he found himself unable to resist.

The ship’s conditions were bad, so Warren probably wouldn’t want to do anything, but if they kept playing this out, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

It was his own fault. Sometimes, when the act went too far, there was no room for control, and things could easily backfire.

With the ignition bomb now in hand, staying by Warren’s side would only become more dangerous. Now that Warren was gone, it was the perfect opportunity to leave.

Go! Right now!

He tucked the bomb into his pocket, looked around the door.

The narrow, dim corridor seemed suffocating. Even a slight cough would alert those around.

Three hours ago, it had been bustling here, but now it felt like a graveyard.

Footsteps of the security team echoed from the deck above, and news had spread that someone had died outside. The ship’s security had been tightened, and everyone boarding was being checked thoroughly.

These stowaways were shaking in fear, too afraid to move, hoping they wouldn’t be found out and shot on the spot.

Every district above the 13th was separated by walls, requiring proper documents and permits to enter. For fourth and fifth-class citizens, the requirements were too high to follow normal channels.

So, they could only smuggle in.

Unfortunately, security had become strict, and the guards had the right to execute smugglers on the spot.

Shen Yan wasn’t a smuggler.

He was a dead man, a black cardholder. He feared Warren far more than the guards.

Both sides of the corridor were passable, and Shen Yan, removing his shoes, chose the opposite direction from Warren to leave.

Meanwhile…

“Still haven’t found the murderer?”

“Sorry, it’ll take some more time.”

“Understood.”

Liu Dan frowned, hands in her pockets, staring at the woman lying in the bathtub.

Yami’s consciousness had a backup in Zone 7. She wasn’t dead, just embarrassed.

She was a high-ranking official within the Federation’s system, and killing her would challenge the authority of the entire national machine—something that those in control absolutely didn’t want to see.

If their bodyguards could just be trampled on, how could they sleep at night?

Yami had issued Liu Dan a hard order: Find that damn murderer before the ship docked, no matter what.

After the security team finished collecting evidence, Liu Dan had Yami’s body stored carefully, lit a cigarette, and headed to the monitoring room.

To protect the privacy of the SVIPs, there are no cameras in any of the top-tier rooms, and the footage only shows the movements of the white-haired minor after leaving the room.

After leaving the top floor, the minor went to the preparation area of the beast fighting arena. After talking to a staff member who was still cleaning, the minor was led to the recycling area on a lower floor.

The place was chaotic. A fire in the lab had burned all the important paper records that hadn’t been backed up, and many people were walking back and forth in the hall, their faces showing expressions of “we’re doomed.”

Taking advantage of the confusion, the suspect quietly entered the recycling area that connected to the laboratory. There were many corpses in the recycling area, and the suspect frowned in disdain, stepping back and pausing at the door, seemingly searching for something.

A minute later, it seemed like he confirmed there was nothing he was looking for and, disheartened, opened the door to leave.

Next, he went to the deck, leaned on the railing, and stared at the pitch-black sea, suddenly smiling and jumping overboard.

The footage showed the mask of pain.

The video had no sound, and the suspect’s actions were bizarre, stranger than even the things her grandmother would mumble in her sleep.

If one didn’t know better, they might think the person was possessed.

The captain, who had vacated his spot for Liu Dan, respectfully added, “There are traces of tampering with the surveillance footage. The technical department is trying to restore the original images. We will ensure we provide a satisfactory report to the higher-ups.”

Liu Dan nodded. “Thank you, I’ll leave you to it then.”

As she was about to close the door, an idea suddenly struck her, and she pushed the door open again.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her, except for the young man in the corner who was focused on fixing the video.

His back was very familiar.

She had just seen him earlier.

Liu Dan felt inexplicably nervous as she walked over and patted his shoulder.

The young man turned around, his face plain, smiling obsequiously. “Hello, is there anything you need?”

Liu Dan exhaled, “It’s nothing. Please continue.”

The young man returned to his task.

The footage on the monitor was becoming distorted under his manipulation, finally showing vague human figures.

The young man pulled out a USB drive and put it in his pocket, turning to the captain. “The person who tampered with the surveillance footage is highly skilled. Restoring it to this extent is the best we can do. Should we seek backup from the headquarters?”

“Let’s hold off for now.”

The captain squinted, trying to discern the features of the shadowy figure, which looked almost ghostlike.

Black hair, wearing a researcher’s white coat, threatening the two real researchers and guiding them toward the monster house.

The monster house’s surveillance was independent from the ship’s system, only connected to the temporary laboratory, which had been destroyed in the fire. It was certain that the local files in the lab were destroyed, and even the files uploaded to the cloud were likely compromised by hackers.

The captain couldn’t figure out why this person with such abilities would cause trouble on a ship.

Of course, excluding the possibility of disruption, he might be a pawn in the current power struggle, using the ship to create this scene.

Perhaps the young man who killed Yami was related to him.

The power struggles above were dragging ordinary workers into it.

The security team was only responsible for ensuring the safe voyage of the ship. The captain had enough authority to check the surveillance and question people, but doing so might offend some powerful figures.

Those big shots would handle things their own way.

The captain patted the young man on the shoulder, yawned, and said, “Alright, you’ve done your best. Let’s eat and sleep, and deal with this when we wake up.”

The young man, with a face full of righteousness, replied, “But…”

The captain interrupted, “No buts! You’ve done everything you can, but this matter can’t be solved just by effort. I’m telling you again, rest well, understood?”

The young man forced a smile. “Alright, I’ll finish the report and then leave.”

The young man was still too honest.

The captain waved his hand, and, with his team looking exhausted, they left.

The monitoring room was left with the young man alone.

He locked the door, expressionless, inserted the USB drive again, switched pages on his laptop, and put on his headphones.

The blurry image that had been shown to the captain was now crystal clear.

By adjusting the camera’s size, he could even see the red mole on the person’s earlobe.

It was now clear on the screen: the person was none other than Shen Yan.

Liu Dan had watched him die and come back to life, coldly kill a recycling worker, and threaten two unlucky researchers in the laboratory.

When the footage showed him fooling the researchers into believing he was the director of the Rose Institute, she couldn’t help but laugh.

But her amusement didn’t last long.

In the footage, the young man in the white coat nervously opened a coffin lid and fell into the arms of the man slowly rising from the coffin.

—“Honey! You…”

Pause, replay.

“Honey!”

Pause again, slow down the playback speed.

“Ho… ney…”

One last pause, and Liu Dan watched frame by frame, hearing Shen Yan’s distorted voice in the audio.

Though somewhat garbled, there was no doubt in her mind that the person in the footage was the same one who kissed her yesterday afternoon, calling her name and asking her to slow down.

Liu Dan continued watching, her expression turning cold and grim.

She doubled the playback speed until the video stopped at the moment Shen Yan, smiling with pleasure, took the detonator bomb from the weapons cache and left for the lower deck.

As he disappeared from the video, the smile on his face was the same as someone reunited with an old lover, as if he would die for that person.

Liu Dan’s lips curled in a cryptic smile, and then she turned off the monitor, backing up the video before deleting all the data on the computer and preparing to leave.

When she opened the door, it seemed to collide with something.

Looking down, she saw a service robot, no taller than her calf.

The robot opened its storage compartment, revealing a palm-sized detonator bomb, glowing faintly red, showing a countdown.

The countdown, ten minutes.

Liu Dan’s fingertips twitched nervously as she stared at the flashing numbers.

Dangerous red light reflected in her eyes.

9:55, 9:54, 9:53…

The little robot detected her rigid posture and, thinking she hadn’t noticed, extended its arm further. “This is a gift from your neighbor. Your neighbor has a message for you.”

Liu Dan clenched her cold fingers and asked, “What did he say?”

“Please wait, I’m broadcasting the message now.” After a couple of beeps, the robot’s electronic voice transformed into a pleasant, youthful voice with a hint of laughter.

“Zhixian, bored, aren’t you?”

“Wanna play my game?”

Ruan Zhixian’s hacking abilities were almost like a bug in the original story.

In front of Blaze, he seemed insignificant.

If he wanted to, he could even directly alter the stock prices of the entire world.

But such things didn’t interest him. He wouldn’t bother opening his computer unless the plan specifically required it.

Shen Yan never intended to hide anything from Ruan Zhixian. He didn’t plan to just let the detonator sit in his hands either.

The bomb has two modes: one was the remote control mode controlled by Ruan Zhixian, and the other was a countdown mode.

The two could coexist, but the countdown mode had a higher priority than the remote control.

In other words, once the countdown began, Ruan Zhixian had only two choices:

Either he detonates the bomb before the countdown ends, or he disarms it to stop the countdown.

Either way, the bomb wouldn’t achieve its original purpose of detonating the munitions storage.

This was an obvious provocation.

Shen Yan ate his bread silently, tears streaming down his face.

He had no choice.

If Ruan Zhixian found out that he stole the bomb only to prevent the ship from exploding, it would be seen as a form of survival, and he would easily be killed.

It was not paranoia—there was a plotline in the original where a teammate of Ruan Zhixian was kicked out of the team for hesitating to act according to his wishes. Despite completing the task by taking a roundabout way, the teammate was still despised and eventually died after being drained of value.

Shen Yan nervously swallowed the last bite of his bread.

Fortunately, these terrifying days would end once he got off the ship.

If Fei Shen followed his instructions and bet all the money, the winnings from this would help pay off his gambling debt, and he could ask him to make a new identity for him.

As a death-declared person, he naturally wouldn’t have to pay for the outrageous room charges and could go anywhere he wantes afterward.

As for the so-called game…

There were no real games. It was all a lie to divert Ruan Zhixian’s attention, to make him curious and wait.

The rescue team would arrive within three days, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to survive that long.

Once he was off the ship, the world is so big—who would recognize him?

Pretending to be a madman? No way. He’s a handsome guy! He didn’t want to play the madman!

“Hey! Come over for inspection!”

Shen Yan quickly swallowed the last bit of the bread provided to the staff and blended in with the crowd. Wearing a server uniform, he slowly moved forward.

Some bold stowaways dressed as servers, risking it all to earn tips.

As long as they payed the security team enough, the guards would turn a blind eye.

The servers and the security team didn’t have the authority to watch last night’s match, so they didn’t recognize him. Shen Yan wasn’t worried about being discovered as the man who returned from the dead.

He stayed in the staff rest area where he would be unnoticed.

If a rich person happened to wander into this area and spotted him…

He instinctively touched the stun gun hidden in his pants.

He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

Soon it was his turn.

He lowered his head, his wig hiding most of his face.

The guard sized him up and commands, “Push your hair back.”

He quickly slipped a note into the guard’s hand and, obediently, pushed back his bangs, giving him a wink.

The other two guards didn’t notice anything unusual. He quickly glanced at the note. A flicker of green crossed his eyes, and he casually pocketed it, allowing him to pass.

It was a check for ten thousand dollars, made out to Fei Shen.

After the inspections were finished, five stowaways were caught among the service staff in Area A.

One tried to escape and was shot on the spot, the rest were all taken away.

The nervous servers resumed their duties. The ship hasn’t docked yet, and they still needed to provide excellent service to the guests.

Shen Yan didn’t go up to the deck—he’d be asking for trouble. Unlike Ruan Zhixian, he didn’t have a bunch of high-tech gadgets to help him disguise himself.

He decided to rest for now.

He returned to an empty room, falling asleep in a daze.

Not sure how much time had passed, a cold breath slipped into his blanket.

He immediately woke up, his body stiff, too afraid to move.

“Mom.”

A head appeared from behind him, with a sharp chin pressing against his neck. The face was pale, eyes completely black with no human warmth.

A drop of cold, eerie seawater brushed against his neck, then another, then a third, as the same cold face rubbed against him, spreading the chill.

A cold hand wrapped around his waist, and a hot breath, full of obsession, came with a contradictory, chilly, youthful voice:

“I missed you so much.”