Pretend to be crazy

The banquet was over, the honored guests had left, and only members of the cult remained in the hall. The Pope, who rarely had much presence, cleared his throat softly and motioned for the other Six Deadly Sins to sit beside Shen Yan.

Seated at the head of the table, Shen Yan had been coaxed into drinking quite a lot. His skin was flushed a bright rosy pink, and his eyes were half-closed as he slouched lazily in his chair.

Even in that state, he couldn’t let go of the wine. He held his glass, sipping slowly, a faint smile on his lips and a blank stare in his eyes.

There was only a little wine left in the tall glass. After he drank it all, he stared at the empty glass for a while, then brought it back to his mouth again.

Of course, there was nothing to drink.

He frowned in dissatisfaction, stubbornly trying again and again to get something out of the empty glass.

The one sitting closest to him, Pride—named Li Wento—casually took the glass away. Under Shen Yan’s confused and slightly angry gaze, he swiftly refilled it and placed it back in his hand as it was.

Shen Yan stared at the glass in silence for a few seconds, then slowly turned to look at him. “You’re good.”

“My honor,” Li Wento replied with a light chuckle.

Seeing Li Wento’s sycophantic act, the cool girl Chen Yushui twitched at the corners of her mouth, as if trying not to laugh. Beside her, Chen Yumu quietly tugged at her sleeve. The two locked eyes, and Chen Yushui managed to suppress her laughter.

She knew she should also try to curry favor with Shen Yan.

The cult only let people in, not out. This place was way too strange. She had tried to escape with her sister several times but failed each time.

Now that Shen Yan had been placed in such a position of power, getting close to him might be their ticket out.

The Pope saw through all of their schemes and bowed respectfully.

“You should rest now. Besides the Father, would you like to choose one more Holy Son to escort you?”

Shen Yan rested his head on one hand, taking a moment to process, then looked toward Li Wento.

Li Wento wasn’t surprised. He smiled gently and rose to help him.

But just before he could touch him, Shen Yan suddenly shifted his gaze to the quiet man sitting at the end of the table with his head down.

“Let him.”

The quiet man looked up in surprise, not expecting to be chosen. He seemed frozen, staring silently at Shen Yan.

“Him? He’s no good,” Li Wento said, his smile unwavering. He leaned in to whisper in Shen Yan’s ear, “Holy Son, the thing I mentioned to you earlier—I can help you with that tonight.”

Shen Yan paused, lips pursed as he quickly glanced at Li Wento, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

Before he could respond, the quiet man suddenly stood up, stammering, “I—I can do it too!”

All eyes turned to the quiet man in surprise.

By now, everyone knew that pleasing Shen Yan was the quickest way to get what they wanted. Their heads were full of selfish schemes, though none as openly obvious as Li Wento.

The only exception was the quiet man. He was Sloth—seemingly too lazy for even desire himself, always with that passive, resigned expression. He was terrified of death, but had never shown much will to live, either.

His sudden initiative was truly eye-opening, yet baffling.

“You probably don’t even know what we’re talking about,” Li Wento said gently. “There’s no need to get involved.”

The quiet man suddenly grew stubborn. “If you can do it, there’s no way I can’t.”

Li Wento scoffed. “You’re more suited than me to represent Pride.”

“I can do it,” the quiet man insisted.

Shen Yan yawned, lazily looking at the quiet man. “Alright then. You take me back.”

Li Wento sat back down in silence, barely suppressing the hostility and killing intent in his eyes.

Being too eager after rejection could be a turn-off.

So Shen Yan preferred the quiet, seemingly dull ones?

Li Wento sneered slightly, looking into his reflection in a shiny silver platter and trying to mimic the quiet man’s expression.

Didn’t work.

He withdrew his gaze in frustration and watched Shen Yan being carried out of the hall by Ruan Zhixian, along with the Father.

Fang Luo held it in until they reached the door.

Along the way, he had hinted multiple times that Ruan Zhixian should hand Shen Yan over to him, but that fool pretended not to understand and kept changing the subject.

He looked simple, but he wasn’t dumb.

He might even be the most cunning of them all.

Fang Luo’s expression turned cold. He stopped at the door and said icily, “You can leave now.”

The quiet man stammered, “But… I haven’t helped him… with his bath yet…”

Fang Luo sneered, just about to say something, when Shen Yan lifted his eyes and waved impatiently, “You go.”

Then he snuggled deeper into the quiet man’s arms and mumbled, “Hurry up.”

The quiet man turned to Fang Luo. “What should I do? Father, he says you have to go.”

Fang Luo: “…”

He held back.

His expression grew colder as he opened the door for them. After standing at the threshold for a while, he finally walked away.

As soon as they entered the room, Shen Yan jumped down from Ruan Zhixian’s arms and headed into the bathroom on his own.

He didn’t come out for half an hour, and when he did, he was already in his pajamas.

Without sparing Ruan Zhixian—a human coat rack—a glance, he climbed into bed and got ready to sleep.

He was truly drunk today. His body felt weak, and his mind was slow.

The Pope had clearly told him to choose someone for a reason, but he was too lazy to think about it now.

It was too hard to pretend to be a devout Holy Son at this point. Besides, he couldn’t be sure if anyone, including the Father, would try something while he was drunk.

The Father was a no-go—too clingy, too annoying.

He didn’t know Gluttony well—too risky.

The Chen sisters were too young—not appropriate.

Adlai, representing Greed, was actually a good choice, but he talked too much and had too many thoughts. Shen Yan didn’t want to deal with that tonight.

Li Wento’s ambition was obvious. He’d subtly flirted at the table, hinting that he was obedient, skillful, versatile, and… eager.

Shen Yan had no idea why the guy assumed he was gay—or why he assumed he would be the bottom. He hadn’t corrected him, decided to just go with the flow and see what he really wanted.

Not just Li Wento. Shen Yan was still observing what everyone truly desired.

As the Holy Son of lust, of course he had to make the most of what was available—get some benefits for the family.

So, after weighing everything, Ruan Zhixian was the safest option.

In some ways, they knew each other pretty well.

Neither of them was exactly gay. It had just… happened, unexpectedly.

If nothing else provoked Ruan Zhixian, he wouldn’t make a move.

Shen Yan relaxed into the bed, sleepiness washing over him.

The blanket lifted, and the freshly-bathed, warm quiet man crawled in behind him.

He wrapped his arms around Shen Yan’s waist and pulled him close with surprising strength. Shen Yan knew he couldn’t break free and gave up, letting himself be held.

“You’re not the quiet type at all, are you?” Shen Yan said calmly.

“Huh? What do you mean, bro? I don’t get it.” the quiet man replied. “That guy earlier, what did he say to you? I can do it too.”

Shen Yan gave a helpless little laugh. Too sleepy, he muttered, “He said he’s really good.”

The quiet man: “…”

“He said he’s great at it, and can keep going for a long time.”

The quiet man: “Bro…”

Shen Yan lazily added, his voice fading, “Keep going for a long time… doing… housework…”

He fell asleep.

Ruan Zhixian slowly propped himself up, expressionless, and looked down at Shen Yan, who was breathing evenly in sleep.

Shen Yan’s eyes and lips were flushed. Earlier, even after a few drinks on the ship, he could still pull him by the tie, tease him, almost bite through his knuckle like a mischievous pup. Now he was curled up quietly in his arms.

His eyelashes were long and thick, the thin lids covering those clear, slightly amber eyes.

Very good at acting, a bit mischievous—he had no idea what Shen Yan was up to.

He stared for more than an hour before he finally lay back down.

The Church of Divine Descent’s shampoo and body wash were combined into one product, carrying a faint herbal scent—slightly different from the earlier whiffs of lemon and mint. Only when very close, with his nose pressed against Shen Yan’s skin and inhaling deeply, could he catch the faint trace of his personal scent beneath all the chemical fragrances.

Sweet.

Like sugar.

The next morning, it was the priest who came early to wake Shen Yan.

Seeing him being held in Ruan Zhixian’s arms, Fang Luo’s heart skipped a beat.

Partly because Shen Yan—who matched his aesthetic and had been impatient with him recently—was now being so intimate with someone else. He felt a bit jealous.

The other part was pure danger.

Shen Yan was his hope for completing the mission. If someone gained his full trust before him, his job would become almost impossible.

In fact, he’d received word from above last night, suggesting he withdraw. This matter had gone beyond the scope of what the escort squad could handle.

He pretended not to understand and insisted on staying to complete the task.

They didn’t force him to retreat, but the implication was clear: don’t forget where you came from.

The title of “priest” placed him close to Shen Yan, giving him access to benefits. But now, with so many eyeing this position, he was in real danger—if not just replaced, possibly assassinated.

He had to win back Shen Yan’s trust before anyone made a move.

Actually, it wouldn’t be that hard.

His thoughts raced. While placing food from the cart onto the table, he intentionally made some noise.

Shen Yan, half-asleep, opened his eyes, hair sticking out in all directions. When he sat up and looked toward the sound—

He met Fang Luo’s eyes. Fang Luo’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper. He set aside his task and quickly stepped over to the bed, lifting Shen Yan’s bangs and forcefully pressing his thumb to his forehead.

The pressure made Shen Yan’s head hurt. He smacked his hand away, annoyed: “You woke me up and now you’re acting crazy?”

Fang Luo snapped out of it like waking from a dream, then looked coldly at Ruan Zhixian beside him and said, “Get out.”

The quiet man” blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“Shen Yan, tell him to leave. I need to talk to you,” Fang Luo said, his voice cold and commanding.

Shen Yan, who’d been grumbling just a moment ago, was suddenly alert. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell him to leave,” Fang Luo repeated firmly.

No one had dared speak to Shen Yan in such a tone since he became “Beloved.” Without further hesitation, he drove Ruan Zhixian out.

Once the room was clear, Shen Yan asked with a bit of unease, “Father, what is it?”

Fang Luo silently apologized in his heart before stepping closer, lowering his voice to question him:

“What did you do yesterday?”

“Why can’t I sense the divine child in your womb?”

Shen Yan was stunned.

Fang Luo stepped forward again, palm pressing against Shen Yan’s abdomen, applying a bit of pressure. His expression grew even colder.

“Shen Yan, you lost the divine child.”

“No one but me will forgive you for this.”

Shen Yan stared blankly, a storm of thoughts churning inside. This guy really had something.

Using both threat and persuasion—though as a priest he couldn’t offer rewards, intimidation came easy.

This cult’s system was chaotic and full of fabricated dogma. The priest’s role was perfect for making things up.

The divine child was a myth to begin with—just a convenient tool for those in power.

But the foolish “Holy Beloved” didn’t know that. He genuinely believed he was pregnant and that the divine child made him supreme.

At first, Shen Yan had simply been happy to be pregnant. But after being flattered repeatedly, his vanity and greed awakened. The divine child turned into a means to a comfortable life. Faith was replaced by the allure of power and wealth. He became less devout.

So when that privilege was taken from him, he was supposed to—

“You’re lying!” Shen Yan trembled all over, unsure whether it was from anger or fear. He pushed the priest away hard enough to make him stumble, then turned to leave, panic setting in. “Where’s the Pope? I want to see him! I didn’t do anything! How could this be, how could this be!”

Fang Luo grabbed him and yanked him back. The spot where he’d been shoved still throbbed, and he was shocked by Shen Yan’s strength. But he kept his expression calm and said quickly:

“I’m your priest. I’m responsible for you and your child. I’d never lie to or hurt you. But if the Pope finds out about this, both of us will die!”

“This can’t be… I don’t believe it!”

Shen Yan clutched his face, trembling. After a few seconds, he suddenly looked up, grabbing the priest’s wrist and pleading, “Father—please, save me!”

Fang Luo shamelessly indulged in his desperate expression for a second before sighing. He gently patted his shoulder and spoke softly:

“My child, I, Fang Luo, swear by Ana’s name—”

“Fang Luo?” Shen Yan interrupted him for the first time. “Your name is Fang Luo?”

Fang Luo’s records had been altered by the Bureau, his identity reassigned to another with the same name. So now, he nodded calmly. “Of course. I must’ve never had the chance to tell you.”

Shen Yan said, “Squad number 656687, District 13, Third Escort Unit Captain?”

Fang Luo: “…?”

In that fleeting moment, one alias was destroyed—and a new one was born.

“I’m your superior. Squad number 00056.” Shen Yan patted the man—who in later stages of the cult’s development would be brutally killed by Ruan Zhixian—on the shoulder and sighed. “Little Luo, you’re very committed to your job. But there’s one thing I have to bring up.”

Fang Luo: “…Please go ahead.”

Shen Yan gave a subtle glance at a particular area, then said solemnly:

“We’re coworkers. I hope, as long as it doesn’t affect the mission, you can show a bit of restraint. Don’t get so…”

“Excited.”