Pretend to be crazy - Chapter 62

Shen Yan closed his eyes.

He wasn’t really surprised.

Falson was just that kind of person—desperate for maternal love, yet clueless about what real love actually was. So he relied on animal instincts and society’s general image of a mother to seek out his ideal mom.

Warren and Blaze became his reference points. If others had something, he wanted it too. But when he finally got it, he wasn’t happy.

An emotional void that couldn’t be filled— the more he demanded, the more empty he felt.

Falson was difficult. The original story had shown that he’d made even worse demands of other “mothers.” Except for that one mute yellow dog, everyone else eventually gave in.

But once they did, Falson lost interest and didn’t take it further.

Let alone do something like now—suddenly sticking to Shen Yan like a ghost, acting as if they were close.

At first, Shen Yan was confused. Why didn’t Falson treat others this way? Why did he deliberately say things Shen Yan hated, just to get beaten?

Later, he figured it out.

He wasn’t afraid of Falson. He didn’t particularly like or dislike him either—kept a distance, which accidentally triggered something deeper in him, making him crave more.

But he could never be satisfied.

Once the novelty wore off, that little psycho would probably kill him and go look for a new “mom.”

And now, he wasn’t content with just touching Shen Yan through clothing anymore.

Feeling fingers poking beneath the fabric, Shen Yan sighed. As Falson panted softly into his ear, Shen Yan covered his hand through the shirt and said calmly, “Falson, I’ve never done anything with them.”

Falson didn’t believe him. He pressed him against the door until there was no space left between them, gently biting his ear with a laugh.

“That’s perfect.”

“I’ll be Mommy’s first.”

Shen Yan was getting a little breathless from the pressure. His neck was wet from licks. Falson, who had been teasing him, now wrapped his arms tightly around his waist like he wanted to fuse their bodies.

Then came the undeniable Little Falson, standing at attention.

No one had called on him, class wasn’t in session, and yet there he was—full of youthful vigor, self-taught and thriving.

Shen Yan remained calm. He’d done it many times with Ruan Zhixian in this world already. Plus, men here were so openly gay it was almost blunt. He’d actually gotten somewhat used to it.

“I don’t love them,” Shen Yan said, pressing down on his hand, voice even. “Falson, this isn’t love either.”

Falson’s fingers twitched but didn’t apply much force. “But they looked happy. I want to try too.”

He stood behind Shen Yan, expressionless but speaking in that sticky-sweet tone. “Mommy doesn’t love me, but I’ll make sure every part of Mommy’s body falls in love with me.”

Shen Yan: “What about you?”

“What?”

Falson froze. Shen Yan used the moment to turn and push him back a little, looking at him with a calm, forgiving gaze, as if what just happened didn’t bother him at all.

That look made Falson uncomfortable—itchy all over, like fleas were crawling on him.

Shen Yan ignored the silence. Instead, he patiently helped the now grim-faced Falson straighten the wrinkles in his clothes and said lightly:

“Falson, you don’t really love me, do you?”

Falson’s pupils shook. He grabbed Shen Yan’s wrist.

No one had ever cared enough to ask. He’d already come up with a clever response, but when he opened his mouth, his brain and tongue parted ways. He couldn’t speak the manipulative words he’d prepared—just stared at him.

“I…”

Shen Yan waited, but he never delivered his grand line. Eventually, all he muttered was, “I don’t.”

Shen Yan leaned in and gave him a pure kiss on the cheek, then hugged him tight.

“I’ll give you a chance,” he said. “Try to love me.”

“I’ll love you the way you love me.”

Shen Yan shifted from passive to active, chuckling softly as he caught Falson’s hand and pressed it to his chest.

Beneath the warm skin, protected by ribs, his heart beat steadily under Falson’s palm.

“Take it.”

“They’re right here.”

“Lots of them.”

After fooling Falson into leaving, Shen Yan had planned to sleep. But after tossing and turning, he couldn’t.

Maybe he’d slept too much after being knocked out.

Either way, he gave up. He opened his terminal, scanned his contacts, and decided to bother Ruan Zhixian.

That guy was like a router—online 24/7, diligently stirring trouble.

Usually, he was the one watching him. Cameras were his eyes. But today, Shen Yan felt like flipping the script.

During their time in the desert, Blaze had given him access to all his men’s permissions, including those hackers from that black market site. Now, he could command them freely.

He told them to grab access to all island cameras, but to keep it quiet. Skip the tough ones if they were too risky.

That fired the hackers up. Messages started flooding in.

[Rabbit: Doubt my character, fine. Doubt my skill? Never! Sit tight, sis-in-law! Ten minutes!]

[Six of Spades: Three.]

[Rabbit: Three what?]

[Tiger: While you were chatting, Six already cracked three cams.]

[Rabbit: Argh! You sneak! Just wait!]

The hackers were fast. Cameras outside the military base were online in five minutes. The hard-to-crack ones took just over twenty minutes.

In the end, Six gave him a list of 25 cameras they couldn’t breach silently.

Shen Yan praised them while running facial recognition software, skimming through over a thousand feeds in seconds, looking for Ruan Zhixian.

And maybe other clues too.

Each screen stayed up for less than a second before vanishing. A sprawling surveillance network formed in Shen Yan’s mind.

Then he paused and rewound—thirteen feeds back.

A familiar face appeared.

Black hair, black suit, black sunglasses. Tall, well-built, expressionless, military aura just from standing still.

Brother Gen.

The buzzcut brute who had mysteriously shown up on the ship and stabbed him, wrecking his escape plan. That incident indirectly led to Ruan Zhixian riding him until they disembarked.

Shen Yan had looked him up. Professional bodyguard with a 100% satisfaction rate.

He turned up the audio and listened to Gen’s conversation with another man.

“I really can’t access the internal base. Everyone’s on alert after what happened today…”

“Five times the price.”

“Ahem. Well, anyway, there’s an upcoming exhibition on Paradise Island. I have a friend who works inside the base. If he’s willing to help…”

“Two hundred grand.”

“I’ll give you his contact. After the exhibit tomorrow, follow him to unload equipment. But if anything goes wrong, you’re on your own. We won’t cover for you.”

Gen nodded. The man, grinning, tapped at his terminal, and after Gen confirmed, they both left the frame.

Gen returned to his hotel. Nothing else noteworthy followed.

Shen Yan mulled over it, absently tugging the blanket corner in his hand.

In the original plot, the ship exploded. Less than 3% survived. But he had changed the story—both the ship and Paradise Island were safe.

The ship made sense—Ruan Zhixian had planted the bomb himself.

But what about Paradise Island?

Originally, the traditionalist faction should’ve struck during the military academy contest. The students were elite—perfect leverage to pressure their families and double the impact.

But due to Ruan Zhixian’s maneuvering, radicals within the traditionalists completed a near-impossible task—triggering a super-destructive protocol. The base suffered huge losses; many cadets died.

This incited outrage. Though the traditionalists weren’t wiped out, their power waned, while Paradise Island’s reconstruction surged forward thanks to newfound allies.

Ruan Zhixian, who backed Paradise Island all along, forged strong ties and never lacked weapons again.

The original never said who completed the mission. Many fans speculated it was one of Ruan Zhixian’s men—doing the dirty work and pinning the blame on others. Classic Ruan move.

Could it have been Gen?

Given his terrifying professionalism and what Shen Yan just overheard, the odds jumped from 30% to 70%.

But Shen Yan was now in the thick of it. Ruan Zhixian shouldn’t have a reason to intervene again.

Was this another of his tests? Or did someone else give Gen his orders—a clueless radical?

Shen Yan ran a scan using that photo Ruan Zhixian took of him at the airport, but out of all the cameras, not one caught a match.

He was probably disguised again.

Shen Yan went to close the program but accidentally hit “launch.”

The loading bar moved quickly. While it ran, the system couldn’t be turned off.

Might as well wait.

Images flashed by rapidly. Green and red boxes tagged faces. Halfway through, the progress bar froze.

All screens flickered—then unified into one.

Ruan Zhixian.

Removing his disguise, revealing his smug face.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of Ruan Zhixians smiled at him.

Shen Yan’s scalp tingled. The moment Ruan lifted a finger to start saying “bro,” he slammed the terminal shut and dove under the blanket.

In the warmth and darkness, he lay quietly until the mental trauma faded.

He reached out, turned the terminal back on.

Two messages awaited him: