Pretend to be crazy - Chapter 65

Recent tensions on Paradise Island were high.

Previously, although the island’s New and Old Factions were at each other’s throats, they at least managed to sit at the same table and eat together.

Supervisor Zheng Linyou, hailing from Daydream Biopharmaceuticals, leaned more toward the Old Faction.

However, she understood the delicate balance between the two sides and worked hard to mediate, striving for an outcome that could satisfy both.

After all, the new technological weapons they were developing were far too powerful. If either faction showed the slightest overreach, the other would retaliate out of fear for their own safety.

If a weapons arms race broke out, it might be good for short-term investment in Paradise Island, but if District One caught wind of it—even if everyone involved was truly loyal—they wouldn’t listen to excuses. They’d likely just nip the rebellion in the bud.

So she walked on eggshells to maintain balance.

Until the seventh day of the exhibition.

Before that, a few bloodier conflicts had broken out between neutral forces not aligned with the New or Old Factions. They weren’t trying to drag the island into their disputes, just settling their own scores. Paradise Island turned a blind eye.

But on the seventh day, someone from the Old Faction was killed—using one of the “Plasma Pulse Guns” sold the day before.

The victim was someone of considerable standing within the Old Faction, an old schoolmate of Zheng Linyou’s. She knew his personality—smooth, well-liked, extremely cautious. It was unlikely he was killed out of personal revenge.

More likely, someone orchestrated the hit to ignite a war between the two factions.

All three of the plasma pulse guns had been bought by the New Faction. Victims of the weapon turned into puddles of yellow blood—identical to the lab demonstrations on white mice during the expo. No mistaking the cause of death.

The Old Faction saw this as deliberate murder. There were no personal grudges, but between factions, the tension was thick. The New Faction, now in possession of powerful new toys, had gotten cocky.

Some in the New Faction wanted to retaliate, but were forcefully held back. Now wasn’t the time for rash moves.

They even bit back, accusing the Old Faction of staging the whole incident—trying to flip the table and start an all-out war.

The Old Faction was furious.

Their guy was the one killed! And now they were being slandered?

As angry as they were, doubt crept in.

Because it was possible.

The Old Faction itself had two camps: the Moderates—open to innovation—and the Radicals—who wanted all New and even Moderates wiped out.

The Radicals feared the rapid advancement of machine technology would draw District One’s attention, leading to a resource redistribution that would cripple biotech’s influence.

Some of the smarter Radicals stayed in the shadows, subtly fanning the flames. Others—dumber ones—thought District One genuinely disliked mechanical tech and needed to be shown who was boss.

They were too low-level to access top-tier information, so others simply kept an eye on them, treating them as pawns for testing the waters.

Now it seemed things had spiraled.

Because one of the plasma guns had been purchased by the Radicals.

They swore they weren’t responsible, and few believed them—but their sincerity helped calm things down a little.

Under Zheng Linyou’s coordination, both factions were brought together to talk.

The meeting was held in Room 1236 on the 12th floor of Elephant Restaurant.

It was a hidden private room, richly decorated and full of class.

Seven people—four men, three women—sat around the round table. The food was barely touched, but the alcohol had been flowing.

The conversation was going well. At least on the surface, both sides were showing understanding. The mood was light. Zheng Linyou, seeing that they agreed to shelve the matter until after the expo, smiled and said, “Well then, if that’s the case…”

Knock knock knock.

Three knocks on the door.

Zheng Linyou had a bad feeling. Everyone turned toward the door.

One person called out with a frown, “Didn’t we say no service?”

The door, though locked, had its handle melted by heat and swung slowly open.

Two people stood outside.

Before anyone could react, they attacked—aiming for heads, chests, vital organs. Some victims didn’t even get to scream, dying with eyes wide open.

Falson, while handing over weapons to the survivors, muttered grumpily: “I could’ve handled all of them myself. Warren, next time just tell mom you’re sick. You don’t need to tag along.”

Warren: “Mhm.”

“And stop sticking so close to mom. You’ve got rough hands and dark skin. She’s only polite because she’s nice—not because she likes you. Don’t get delusional.”

Warren: “Oh.”

Falson looked up suspiciously at the emotionless Warren. “Why are you being so chill lately?”

Last time in the cabin, he nearly beat him to a pulp just for sneaking a suckle from Mom’s milk. Now he’s enduring his verbal attacks like nothing happened…

“You don’t like Mom anymore?” Falson snapped, raising a gun at him. “How dare you not like Mom, you blind, worthless mutt?!”

Warren gave him a glance, easily disarmed him, and stayed silent.

He wasn’t the same as Falson anymore. No need to get riled up over a few words.

He walked away with Shen Yan. The one chosen to remain by Shen Yan’s side had been decided.

It was him.

Knowing that all of Shen Yan’s planning was for him made him ecstatic. He couldn’t suppress the joy in his rising cheekbones and curling lips.

Falson noticed his over-the-top cheerfulness and felt increasingly gloomy on the way back. He kept wondering why he was so damn happy.

The three of them didn’t interact much, but Ruan Zhixian had given them each other’s profiles. They knew what made each other tick.

Warren was a lovesick idiot—his every emotion tied to “Mom.”

He must have gotten a promise from him. That’s why he was acting so zen, even ignoring his taunts.

The more Falson thought, the more depressed he became. And with that depression came dark thoughts—images of Shen Yan being intimate with someone else flooded his mind, stabbing at his fragile sanity.

He clenched his hand so tight that his short nails pierced his palm. But his hand was already fully mechanical, so no blood came out—just a cracked white crescent.

He stared at it with a darker and darker expression.

He wanted to get close to Shen Yan—to make him care, to even get scolded by him—but he had no grounds.

His body was becoming more machine than man. Skin, bones, blood—all to be replaced.

Would he still count as human?

No wonder Mom didn’t love him.

His black eyes narrowed as he stared at Warren’s tall, healthy frame.

He gave a sudden laugh and caught up to them with a quick stride.

—

“All done.”

The dozen floating holographic screens around Blaze froze as he spoke.

He took off his blue-light-filter glasses and set them aside. After working overtime for days, he had finally cracked 60% of the military base’s weapon permissions.

Dark circles framed his tired eyes. He rubbed them and glanced toward Shen Yan, who stood by the window, deep in thought.

“If you’re short on time, maybe you should tell me your plan,” Blaze said. “There might be other ways to pull it off.”

Shen Yan walked over, stood behind him, tilted his chin gently back to rest against his stomach, and started massaging around his eyes. His voice was gentle. “No need. This access is enough.”

Blaze relaxed, letting out a sigh.

“You’re hiding something from me. Is this payback for not letting you join the Mobius operation?”

Shen Yan chuckled, tugging on both sides of his face until his handsome features warped.

Blaze didn’t resist, just patted his hand softly. “That was my mistake.”

Shen Yan stopped. “It’s been ages. I was mad, sure, but we made up. It’s not worth holding a grudge this long.”

Blaze didn’t reply. He pulled his wrist to his lips, kissed it lightly, and said calmly, “Kiss me.”

The request came out of nowhere.

They had just done it past midnight.

Shen Yan paused for a few seconds, then bent down and kissed him again.

The door unlocked.

Shen Yan tried to pull away, but Blaze locked him in place, kissing him even harder.

Warren and Falson entered with food—and saw everything.

Both faces fell.

Warren, upgraded by Shen Yan’s breadcrumb affection, didn’t react as wildly as usual. He just looked pissed and stayed quiet.

Falson? Not so composed.

He’d been on edge all day thanks to Warren, and now the string finally snapped.

His mind went blank.

He had only one thought:

He was willing to die for Shen Yan.

And Shen Yan had said: “I’ll love you the way you love me.”

So he should be willing to die for him, too.

He slowly walked up to them, eerily calm, watching them kiss.

Shen Yan quickly broke away and wiped his lips, trying to play it cool. “You…”

He only got two words out before Falson suddenly grabbed him and kissed him hard.

The digit on his tongue ring hit zero. Sharp pain stabbed his tongue.

Shen Yan’s heart stopped.

He shoved him away, but it was too late.

His body went weak, his vision darkened, and he collapsed. The last thing he saw before blacking out were the panicked faces of Blaze and Warren.

He passed out peacefully.

Ha.

If there’s a hell, and we meet again—

He’s gonna beat the hell out of Falson until he never dares say “Mom” again.