Pretend to be crazy

Ruan Zhixian despised boredom.

Simple-minded individuals with no depth, foolishly grateful souls moved to tears by two meals, and romantics who’d give everything away for a few sweet words—these were the three major red flags that disgusted him when interacting with others.

By reverse logic, the colder, more elusive, and harder someone was to read, the longer they could endure in his world.

Shen Yan decided to use him as a template and adopt the persona of a fake lunatic.

Whatever traits the protagonist displayed, he’d mimic them exactly.

But beyond that core identity, he needed to add more layers—enough that Ruan Zhixian wouldn’t easily see through him.

The outermost layer was crucial.

What persona could both avoid raising Ruan Zhixian’s suspicions and pique his interest?

The answer was simple.

Ruan Zhixian was homophobic.

So he decided to act gay.

He blushed, leaning back and stammering, “Zhixian, y-you’re too close.”

Ruan Zhixian didn’t seem to hear him.

He sat back, his expression unchanged, and abruptly changed the subject, “What are your thoughts on work, bro?”

“Work, huh…” Shen Yan pressed the back of his hand against his flushed face and sighed. “I’m useless. Who am I to pick and choose?”

“How about working for me?” Ruan Zhixian fiddled with the feather pendant on his necklace. “The manager’s expanding the business. The pay’s decent, but…”

“I’ll do it!” Shen Yan blurted out.

Only after speaking did he seem to realize what he’d said, and his head dipped even lower, his face turning bright red. He stammered, trying to cover up his eagerness, “I mean, um, I really need a job. Thank you.”

Ruan Zhixian chuckled. “Nervous? Don’t worry, the manager’s a good guy. The environment’s just a bit messy, but you’ll be fine.”

Shen Yan lowered his gaze, his long, dark lashes casting a fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes.

“…Okay,” he murmured. Then, gathering his courage, he looked up and added softly, “I’m looking forward to it.”

They didn’t talk much after that, and Ruan Zhixian saw him off with a faint smile.

But Ruan Zhixian didn’t leave immediately.

Instead, he stood in front of his home’s surveillance screen, watching.

After Shen Yan left, he bent over, covered his face, and let out an odd, small noise.

“Great, I get to work with Zhixian.”

“I’m even closer to him now.”

“If only…”

The rest of his muttering was too faint to catch, but Ruan Zhixian could roughly guess its meaning from Shen Yan’s flushed ears.

After a prolonged moment of peculiar behavior outside the door, Shen Yan finally returned to his own place.

Ruan Zhixian averted his gaze, put on gloves, and began tidying up.

He threw away the empty nutrient bottle Shen Yan had touched.

He wiped down the places he had sat—four times.

He sprayed air freshener to remove the faintest trace of lingering scent.

Then, he opened the window to let the night breeze in and booked a hotel room for seven days at 1,000 credits per night.

This job marked the turning point where the original Shen Yan became utterly devoted to the protagonist.

In the original story, Shen Yan had successfully applied for a job as a bartender, only to clumsily spill drinks on a customer.

The customer, furious at first, changed his tune after seeing his face and demanded a month of “companionship” as compensation.

It was Ruan Zhixian’s quick wit and high emotional intelligence that placated the customer, making him drop the matter entirely.

The original Shen Yan was so moved that he became completely loyal to the protagonist.

Ruan Zhixian seized the opportunity to make a request.

He asked him to accompany him to get treatment for his heart condition—a private hospital was too expensive, and public hospitals wouldn’t accept a third-class citizen like him, leaving only black-market clinics.

Watching Ruan Zhixian suffer through the treatments left a deep impression on Shen Yan, and under the influence of the shady doctors, he grew interested in organ trading.

Over time, he sold every organ except his heart. Even if Ruan Zhixian hadn’t hinted at needing it, the patchwork of shoddy mechanical replacements left him with only a few years to live.

Shen Yan truly needed a job—the bar’s pay would barely sustain him but would elevate him from a fifth-class citizen, whose life rights could be reclaimed at any time, to a fourth-class citizen.

There were additional benefits, too.

Working with Ruan Zhixian meant more time to observe and interact with him.

Ruan Zhixian’s homophobia was even more pronounced than Shen Yan had expected.

In the original story, Ruan Zhixian accompanied him to the interview. Now, he let him go alone.

If pretending to be gay could disgust Ruan Zhixian enough to abandon him as a target, all the better.

But until Ruan Zhixian showed signs of giving up, he had to keep up the act.

He booted up his dilapidated computer. While playing a steamy striptease video, he logged into the black-market hacker forum mentioned in the novel.

【Plum Blossom Six】: Newbie?

【Diamond Five】: OMG, is that a fifty-year-old antique? How’s it not exploded yet?

【Rabbit】: Who referred you? How’d you even find this place?

【Tiger】: Fill out your basic info, and you’ll get a signup bonus.

【Diamond Five】: LOL, Tiger, why didn’t I get a bonus? Gimme one retroactively!

【Tiger】: Scram.

As messages flooded the chatroom, Shen Yan’s location and basic info were quickly uncovered.

Had it not been for his ancient, virus-laden, camera-less computer, his awkward photo would’ve been plastered everywhere for ridicule by now.

Ignoring the chaos in the chat, he clicked the admin’s avatar—a smiling emoji.

【User0982】: If you want to escape, come find me.

Leaving that cryptic message, he minimized the forum and opened a third tab.

Intro to Programming Languages.

The small screen was split into two: a serious e-textbook on the left and a spicy male striptease on the right.

Shen Yan watched with great interest, pulling an all-nighter and still feeling full of energy.

Clearly, the key to learning was balancing work and play.

The next day, he aced the interview and started his shift that evening.

The bar was dimly lit, the pounding bass rattling the patrons’ eardrums. Men, women, intersex individuals, and robots swayed under the flickering neon lights.

A VIP booth popped a champagne bottle under the staff’s persuasion. The golden liquid sprayed onto one of the servers, only to be quickly licked off by a guest.

“I heard there’s a new hire tonight,” a man with a mouth full of gold teeth whispered to one of the servers. “What’s he look like?”

The server gave a mysterious smile. “You’ll love him.”

Ruan Zhixian overheard the conversation but didn’t care. After placing some drinks at another booth, he left the area.

It was 9:30 PM.

The crowd buzzed with excitement, the flickering neon lights dimmed until only one remained, and the bar was plunged into darkness. At the center of the bar, a hydraulic platform began to rise slowly, revealing a completely sealed metal box, half as tall as a man.

One of the reasons for the bar’s booming business was the nightly special performances, each with a different theme.

The crowd fell briefly silent, their eyes fixed on the platform.

“Who’s it tonight? Jiang Sen?”
“Jiang Sen’s routine is boring. Same old tricks.”
“Vivi? Li Ya? Or maybe our little star?”
“The little star switched to Mystery Den. The other two got taken off the market.”
“Damn, so what’s even worth watching?”

As the tense music built, the murmurs died down, hearts pounding in sync with the suspense.

Bang!

At the crescendo, the music stopped abruptly, and the iron box’s walls slammed open, revealing a man trapped in a cage.

He was kneeling on the stage, his eyes and wrists bound with black silk ties, a collar around his neck with a chain trailing to the floor. His impeccably tailored three-piece suit clung tightly to his body.

Following the lines of his legs downwards, between his dress pants and polished black shoes, was a glimpse of ankle wrapped in black stockings, sleek and taut.

Hearing the shift in sound, the man straightened his posture and shuffled to the edge of the cage on his knees.

“…Is anyone there?”

Everyone instinctively held their breath. When no response came, the man frowned impatiently. “A childish prank. How much do you want?”

Still no answer.

He seemed a bit panicked, gripping the bars of the cage and shaking them forcefully. “Hey! Is anyone there? Let me out!”

The atmosphere turned peculiar. His performance felt almost too real, causing a ripple of doubt in the audience, but no one could tear their eyes away.

He… was beautiful.

Not in a fragile, pitiful way, but in the opposite sense—his presence was upright and commanding. His features were sharp and handsome, his nose straight, and his lips a deep, wine-red hue. Though his eyes were hidden, his chiseled face left little room for disappointment.

He looked like a corporate executive, freshly off work and about to drive home in a new model flying car, only to be drugged and kidnapped to this trashy, third-rate venue for a vulgar spectacle. Even in his pleas for help, he exuded a lofty arrogance.

It made people want to crush him, humiliate him, destroy his pride and reason, make him kneel at their feet like a submissive pet.

Someone quickly moved to fulfill the fantasy.

The platform’s built-in mechanism activated again, revealing another man to the right of the cage.

Jiang Sen was dressed as a beast tamer tonight, holding a whip in his left hand and raising a finger to his lips, signaling the crowd to quiet down.

He walked around to the front of the cage and pulled out a set of keys, jingling them teasingly.

The metallic sound echoed.

The man in the cage smirked coldly. “I knew it, you—”

Before he could finish, Jiang Sen yanked him out roughly by his hair.

Music blared back to life, and as the crowd roared in delight, Jiang Sen wrapped the chain around his hand twice and tugged hard.

The man, who had just crawled to the edge of the stage, was pulled back violently, his body arching in a taut curve from neck to hips. As he fought against the collar, Jiang Sen pressed a foot on his back. His attempt at an elbow strike was deftly evaded, and his suit jacket slipped off in the scuffle.

At that moment, liquid sprayed from the ceiling. His shirt soaked through, clinging tightly to his skin.

The audience could clearly see the figure beneath his previously reserved attire: a body bound by provocative black harnesses, exuding raw sensuality.

The bar erupted in a frenzy.

Jiang Sen’s whip cracked, but the man dodged, only to be restrained again by the leash. There was no escaping far.

A forced, suggestive striptease unfolded amid the crowd’s wild cheers and pounding music.

When the performance ended, the platform lowered halfway. The audience surged forward, eager to touch Shen Yan.

Covered in a sheen of sparkling liquid and sweat, Shen Yan crouched low, animalistic, letting people grope his chest and abdomen as wads of cash were stuffed into the gaps between his harness and skin, even into his underwear.

He seemed unaccustomed to the touches, his movements awkward and tense, but he maintained his professionalism, smiling with his eyes and lips.

One man grabbed his wrist and wouldn’t let go, shoving more bills at him while demanding to be stepped on.

The once-dominant and unyielding performer, now unsure of how to handle the situation, cast a pleading look toward Jiang Sen.

Before Jiang Sen could intervene, someone kicked the rude man away, only to take his place, reaching for Shen Yan with equally fervent hands.

If not for Jiang Sen controlling the scene, Shen Yan might have been pulled off the stage by the overly enthusiastic crowd—with disastrous consequences.

In a dark corner, Ruan Zhixian watched him intently.

As the tipping frenzy finally concluded, he bit down on the candy in his mouth, its shards cutting into his gums and mixing a hint of blood with the sweetness.

He swallowed it all and headed for the backstage lounge.

A weak, incompetent “dead gay,” veering completely off his intended script.

Interesting.

He wanted to meet Shen Yan.