Pretend to be crazy - Chapter 58

Shen Yan held Ai Wei’s hand and spun her around once.
“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“Don’t pretend,” Ai Wei laughed. “I knew from the moment I heard you—you’re just like me.”

Shen Yan: “What kind of person?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, kid.”

In the banquet hall, the music picked up its pace. Shen Yan wrapped his arm around Ai Wei’s waist and leaned close to her ear, whispering,
“I’ve got a lot more questions to ask, Miss Ai Wei. You can find me at Ant Hotel, room 1321.”

She hadn’t told him her name.

Anyone who knew who she was wouldn’t dare get close.
After that bloody incident, even in public, people avoided her like the plague—afraid that the man behind her would seek revenge.

Ai Wei was silent for a few seconds, staring at him, trying to find even a hint of fear on his face.
“Any time?”

“Of course.”

She gave a meaningful smile.
“Aren’t you afraid your boyfriend will rip you apart?”

“Not at all.”

As he spoke, Shen Yan looked outside the venue. Warren, a tall man, stood just outside, eyes fixed on him the entire time.

Shen Yan pulled Ai Wei a little closer, turned his back his gaze, and at the height of the music’s climax, said something that she couldn’t resist, with a low chuckle.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Between your husband and my lover… who’s better?”

Before Ai Wei could respond, Shen Yan let go, swapped dance partners, and went off to chat with someone else.

By the time they left the banquet hall, it was almost completely dark.

Warren followed behind Shen Yan, clearly displeased.
“You danced with seven people tonight. Five kissed your cheek. You kissed back three. Shen Yan.”

Unbothered, Shen Yan mentally organized the intel he’d gathered, his eyes gleaming.
“Only three, huh?”

After a beat, he added ambiguously, “Math genius.”

Warren, having been mocked, stayed silent and opened his terminal. Five minutes until midnight.

The tongue ring refresh was imminent.

He narrowed his eyes, dragged Shen Yan to a small grove by the road, shoved him against a tree, and projected the terminal display in front of them.

Three minutes to go.

Shen Yan realized what was going on and, somewhat helplessly, thought that Warren must’ve been holding back too long.
The not-so-bright guy actually figured out how to seize the moment all on his own.

If he put that drive into studying, he could probably build a rocket in a month.

One minute left.

They’d both been quiet since entering the grove, dimming the screen. Shen Yan kept his hands in his pockets, looking everywhere except at him.

Yet he didn’t move away. Trapped in his arms, his expression and posture were so natural that it made the upcoming kiss seem no more important than doing the dishes or homework—just another everyday task.

Warren pinched his chin, about to make him focus, when a man and woman’s voices came from nearby.

“Right here? You sure?”

“Paradise Island is covered in surveillance. Took me three days to find this blind spot.”

Midnight struck.

Just as Warren moved to chase them off for interrupting his moment, Shen Yan grabbed him.

Shen Yan silently shook his head and pulled him behind a tree.

The two newcomers stopped nearby. Perhaps thinking no one would be around at this hour in this godforsaken spot, they were relaxed.

“I scoped the exhibit out. The moment I used a gadget to disable the infrared, people swarmed in. Security’s too tight—way beyond what a normal exhibit should have.”

“So we have to act during the actual exhibition? I’ll go prep more explosives.”

“I don’t think that’ll cut it.”

The woman lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
“Let’s wait for the boss’s signal. The person in charge hasn’t shown up yet—probably caught wind of something.”

“A mole?” the man asked, surprised.

She punched him twice.
“What’s so shocking? If the other side offers more than our sponsor, I’d spill everything too.”

“Wow, Shui-jie, you’re so cultured.”

“Cut the crap. Here’s the master plan the boss sent. Memorize it in ten minutes—it’ll self-destruct afterward.”

Shen Yan found the woman’s voice very familiar. He peeked out to confirm her face, then memorized their plan too.

They didn’t linger and soon left.

Shen Yan waited a few more minutes before relaxing and stepping out from behind the tree.

To think that woman… was Chen Yushui, code name “Wrath” from the Church.

The intel Fang Luo gave him only described her as a regular university student from District Eight. Her file was so basic, you could skim it in three minutes.

Judging by her words, they’re targeting the person in charge.

They’re from the Traditionalist faction.

Shen Yan grabbed Warren’s hand and petted it seriously, as if he were a house pet.

Were those Traditionalist operatives really just mercenaries willing to do anything for money?

Something felt off.

This was a massive military base, heavily armed. Even a trained elite team wouldn’t dare guarantee a successful assassination under such tight security.

Do they have a trump card? Or are they just reckless?

Shen Yan didn’t have an answer yet.

But it didn’t matter.

The exhibition was in two days—plenty of chances to block their path and figure things out.

Paradise Island was full of complicated factions. Shen Yan wasn’t about to miss the chance to stir things up at the slightest hint of chaos.

Ruan Zhixian was still out there somewhere, definitely watching him, curious what kind of ending Shen Yan and his team would carve out on the island—and what ripple effects they’d leave.

The bigger the mess, the better.

He still didn’t have nearly enough intel.

The exhibition would last two weeks. Plenty of time before it ended.

Shen Yan had a habit of absentmindedly fidgeting with whatever was nearby when he was deep in thought.

It wasn’t until Warren called his name softly that he realized he’d been rubbing Warren’s hand.

Warren had tanned skin, and though it was too dark to see him blush, his voice was clearly softer and more tender than usual.

At least it was just a hand—he hadn’t grabbed something he shouldn’t.

Shen Yan smirked wickedly and glanced at the time.

12:30 AM.

If Ai Wei took the bait and planned to use him to take out her husband, she’d likely show up around 1 AM.

A perfect time for an affair.

Shen Yan looked up and met Warren’s eyes.

Warren’s throat bobbed. His eyes sparkled, and in that brief moment, he felt something click.

Even if their relationship was all an act, no one ever said they couldn’t make it real.

Shen Yan had gone as far as faking intimacy with Blaze to help him regain his memory.

Even when he shoved him away hard enough to drive a nail through his foot, Shen Yan hadn’t blamed him much.

He didn’t believe for a second that Shen Yan felt nothing for him.

And besides…

He had great night vision. Even in the pitch dark, he saw Shen Yan smile, eyes curved sweetly.

The next second, Shen Yan wrapped his arms around his neck, tiptoed, and gave him two quick pecks on the lips.

Warren, stunned, felt a rush of heat explode—half to his brain, half to… somewhere else.

No kiss before, no matter how deep or passionate, had hit this hard.

He instinctively stepped forward.

But Shen Yan cut in right on time,
“Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“I can’t wait.”

Warren’s face was black as thunder.

In the luxury hotel suite, a woman lay on the bed, bound up in a messy tangle of ropes. Hair disheveled, expression terrified.

Shen Yan pointed the camera at her, casually flipping a butterfly knife between his fingers. The flash of the blade was sharp and cold.

He tapped her face with the tip, pulled the gag from her mouth, and she immediately screamed,
“Honey! Save me!”

Then the gag was shoved back in.

Shen Yan ended the video and sent it to Ai Wei’s husband, District Eight crime boss Connie.

Expressionless, Warren untied her. She got up and leaned in next to Shen Yan, admiring the video—clearly pleased by the bound, helpless state that could both arouse protection and domination in a man.

“You’re really something,” she purred, watching it several times.
“The rope tension, the tying style, the camera angles, the pacing—it’s all so professional. Where’d you learn this?”

Shen Yan: “Used to do part-time work.”

“No wonder.”

Under Warren’s death glare, Ai Wei, who usually liked to express affection with kisses, reluctantly sat back down.

Twirling her soft curls, she cooed,
“Sweetheart, if this goes well, I’ll pay a million to have you film me and my lovers.”

Shen Yan: “I’m not interested in money.”

Ai Wei, eyes dreamy and voice sultry:
“Then what are you interested in?”

Shen Yan looked up at her.
“I’m interested in you.”

Warren had had enough. He strode over and slapped a hand over Shen Yan’s mouth, glaring daggers at Ai Wei.
“Shen Yan has a boyfriend. Watch what you say.”

Ai Wei blinked innocently.
“Did we say anything?”

Shen Yan lightly scratched Warren’s hand. Like he’d been burned, Warren yanked it away.

Now free to speak again, Shen Yan added,
“I’m very interested in the biological lab under your name.”

Ai Wei froze, the flirtatious smile vanishing from her face.
“Where did you hear about that?”

Shen Yan: “Not convenient to say.”

The bio lab was one of Ai Wei’s biggest secrets. For someone to throw it in her face so openly, she couldn’t help but be pissed.

Deals needed to be clear-cut. Shen Yan pushed his screen toward her—it showed his chat with her husband.

“Connie’s very worried about you. Says he’ll be here at Ant Hotel in five minutes.”

Already in disguise, Shen Yan handed Warren one of the terrorist masks he’d bought earlier.

With both of them masked, Shen Yan’s voice was muffled as he spoke.

“You have five minutes to decide—either cooperate willingly… or I put a gun to your head.”

Warren: So that’s what “can’t wait” meant.