Pretend to be crazy - Chapter 54

Warren had been reflecting on the love stories Shen Yan once told him. But no matter how many times he replayed them in his head, he could no longer taste the sweetness—only bitterness remained.

It was all sour.

Before Shen Yan fell in love with him, he had used force, threats, emotional blackmail, and pitiful theatrics to worm his way into Shen Yan’s life. All because Shen Yan was kind-hearted and soft. That was how he forced himself into the family.

During that time, Shen Yan had suffered terribly—no need to elaborate.

And after all that hardship, it still didn’t end well.

Shen Yan rarely talked about what happened after the three of them got together. Warren never asked—because he didn’t want to know.

Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t that Shen Yan forgot to mention it. He was deliberately avoiding the topic.

Avoiding what?

A complete mess, obviously. He recalled the wounds on Shen Yan’s wrists, and how—despite being hurt himself—he had forced a smile to comfort him. The memory made him feel like his chest was being pummeled by a dozen little bread loaves. Not painful enough to kill, but endlessly dull and bruising.

He ran all the way from their base to the desert town, bought food and medicine, then rushed back with them in his arms.

The coarse sand lashed his face, nearly blinding him, and the winter wind slashed like a knife.

What should have been a deadly environment was nothing to him.

The howling winds roared past his ears, and in the vast desert, his chaotic mind gradually cleared.

He was sick.

But illness could be treated.

Until it was under control, he’d keep his distance from Shen Yan.

He would never allow himself to hurt him again.

When he returned, the patrol guards looked at him like he was some kind of monster.

Warren, now having sorted through his thoughts, was in a good mood. He smiled at them, so brightly that the guards quickly averted their eyes.

Blaze had already unlocked access for both him and Shen Yan—they could come and go freely now.

He went first to the decontamination area to shake off the sand, cleaned himself thoroughly, and styled his hair into something he considered neat and dashing.

Looking in the mirror, he wasn’t totally satisfied—but for his taste, this was the best he could manage.

He picked up the medicine and headed out.

Shen Yan didn’t go out much, spending most of his time in the room Blaze arranged for him. Easy to find.

Warren had traveled over 600 kilometers round trip, taking ten hours.

It was winter, so by 6 PM, the sun was already setting. The desert sunset, in its pure intensity, was far more dazzling than the neon glow of a cyberpunk metropolis.

The door to Shen Yan’s room was ajar. A sliver of vibrant orange sunlight sliced through the crack, casting a line across the cold marble floor.

Warren heard faint sounds—someone calling Blaze’s name, very softly, like sobbing.

Something urged him to slow his steps, to quiet his breath.

The closer he got to the light, the slower he walked. His feet felt like they were glued to the ground, sinking into quicksand. Every step felt like a battle.

But the corridor wasn’t endless. No matter how much he didn’t want to move forward, eventually he reached the door.

He stopped by the crack, eyes wide open, staring into the room.

Shen Yan was straddling Blaze, collapsed on top of him, looking exhausted. Blaze held his back and waist. The lower half of their bodies was covered by a blanket, but the rhythm of the blanket’s rise and fall made it obvious what was happening underneath.

Warren’s mind exploded with a deafening roar. His heart pounded as he stared at the bed, at the two bodies entangled. His eyes began to sting.

After a long while, he sneered bitterly.

Shen Yan had once told him that the three of them had agreed—kisses were allowed, but nothing more until after marriage.

Warren had even asked: “Did Blaze ever sleep with you?”

Shen Yan had firmly shaken his head. “No,” he’d said without hesitation.

He had sounded so convincing. So sure.

The setting sun dipped lower.

Its light, cutting through the marble, now cut through him as well.

The pain was like death by a thousand cuts.

Finally, the sun set.

The room fell into complete darkness.

Warren expressionlessly shoved the door open, making a loud noise.

Shen Yan looked over. Warren’s fingers curled tightly. He stared into Shen Yan’s teary eyes and said coldly:

“Shen Yan, is it that you don’t want to do it”—he walked slowly to the edge of the bed, towering over them—“or that you don’t want to do it with me?”

The air froze.

Blaze reacted quickly, pulling the blanket higher to cover their waists. His eyes shot daggers at Warren. “Get out.”

Warren only looked colder, his voice sharp and cruel: “Shen Yan, why aren’t you saying anything? Are you dumb from being fucked? Or did he fuck you so well you lost your voice?”

“…Warren.”

Shen Yan, weak, tried to prop himself up. He hit something, groaned in pain, and nearly collapsed again.

He finally sat up. The blanket slipped off him, revealing the violent marks all over his body.

Not a single one was left by Warren.

Warren flinched as if burned. His pupils trembled. He turned away abruptly.

Maybe it was the rage—so overwhelming it gave way to calm.

He thought, calmly, that he would kill Blaze.

Then he’d take Shen Yan away, wash him clean, erase all the filthy traces left on him.

It would take time.

But there was a simpler solution.

He could just kill Shen Yan.

That would only take seconds.

Warren turned back. His stiff eyes once again fell on Shen Yan.

The two had separated. Blaze hadn’t even taken off his clothes—just unzipped his pants, which were now stained. A strange smell hung in the air.

Shen Yan wrapped himself in the blanket, embarrassed. “Please leave… I look awful like this.”

Warren didn’t move. He sneered: “Shen Yan, why is your shame only reserved for me?”

Shen Yan was silent for a few seconds, then gave up entirely. He let go of the blanket and walked naked into the bathroom, ignoring Warren’s stiff posture.

As the water started running in the bathroom, Warren suddenly lunged at Blaze, who was at the wardrobe changing clothes.

He didn’t hold back. This punch was meant to kill—aimed straight for his skull.

Very few could dodge it. Blaze had enhanced brain functions, not physical strength, so his body wasn’t necessarily fast—but his awareness of his surroundings was razor-sharp.

He could tell Warren was coming to kill him—but he didn’t dodge.

He stood there, waiting for impact.

Warren’s instinct kicked in at the last second. He changed course, and the punch slammed into the wardrobe beside Blaze.

The cabinet, and the wall behind it, exploded with a deafening crash.

If that blow had landed, Blaze wouldn’t have survived.

Warren pulled his hand back. Blaze calmly looked at him. “Not going to kill me?”

Warren glared, trying to find even a hint of fear in his eyes.

He found none.

Blaze wasn’t afraid at all. He casually brushed the dust off himself. “Go ahead. I’m not wearing any protective gear.”

“Begging for death just so I’ll give Shen Yan to you?” Warren sneered. “You think I’m that stupid?”

Blaze looked disheveled, a spare shirt tied around his waist. Unfazed, he said, “Believe what you want. This is your only chance to kill me.”

Warren stared at him, eyes filled with suspicion.

Blaze typed something on his terminal, ordering his subordinates to disable the floor’s surveillance and stay away until midnight.

He showed the screen to Warren. “Anything else I need to do to help you kill me?”

Warren scowled, fingers itching to strike, but Blaze’s eerie calm made him hesitate.

“You sick or something?” Warren asked suddenly.

Then it clicked.

He smirked. “You think if you die by my hand, Shen Yan will remember you forever?”

He scoffed, “Modern tech makes it easy to erase someone’s memories. I could extract Shen Yan’s, rewrite every one of your moments together. He’ll believe it was me he slept with today.”

Blaze’s eyes flickered. After a moment, he said, “Go ahead. Try.”

Warren hadn’t thought of that before—but the more he did, the better it sounded.

Such services only existed in the sixth district and above, and were expensive. But that didn’t matter.

He’d find a way.

His expression brightened. Smiling, he raised his hand, ready to deliver a deadly blow.

“I’ll let you say one last thing before you die.”

Blaze opened his mouth—but Warren quickly cut him off. “You’re not allowed to say you love Shen Yan. Or anything related to that.”

Blaze closed his eyes. “Then I have nothing to say.”

That was when Shen Yan came out.

Seeing the two of them locked in confrontation, his pupils shrank. He rushed forward to stand between them. As he did, his thoughts scrambled: This scene is so cliché. Two men fighting over me? In real life?

But he knew the danger. This building was soundproof. Even individual rooms were isolated—he couldn’t hear anything from the bathroom.

He and Blaze had actually planned this whole act out beforehand.

To ensure Blaze’s safety, he’d worn a one-time-use high-voltage electric mesh. It would form a barrier over his skin and paralyze anyone who touched him.

To someone like Warren, that voltage was minor—but it would buy just enough time for Blaze to inject him with a sedative.

They had planned well.

But they hadn’t accounted for one thing:

Blaze had his own selfish thoughts.

He gambled that Shen Yan wasn’t entirely heartless. He wanted to die—so that Shen Yan would never forget him.

Thankfully, Shen Yan came out just in time.

Though terrified, he remained composed. Looking at Warren—at the ice in his eyes—he took a deep breath.

“Warren… we’re not right for each other.” Shen Yan’s eyes reddened, his voice trembled. “Let’s just be friends. Please?”

Note: They didn’t actually have sex—it was staged. If Blaze had really done anything, Ruan Zhixian would’ve started killing early.