Warning : Mature content (R18) and rape simulation

Originally, with Wen Muyan’s skills, sneaking into the house without alerting anyone would have been effortless. However, this time he was burdened—with a person. And although the script didn’t particularly care whether complications arose or not, if Wen Muyan actually ran off with Zhuo Fan, it would definitely throw the plot off-course.

Thinking about the possibility that Xiao Han was still waiting for him somewhere, Wen Muyan’s heart clenched in worry. Still, on the surface, he maintained a look of pleasant surprise and affection.

One day, he thought bitterly, if I can ever break free of this damned script, I’ll surely become a movie star.

But that wasn’t today. For now, he had to escort this troublesome "little ancestor" back to his room. “Zhuo Fan, I only came to see you today—”

Zhuo Fan immediately cut him off. “Muyan, don’t say more. I understand!”

Understand? What exactly do you understand?

Wen Muyan stared at him, speechless. Then he watched as Zhuo Fan sighed deeply, sorrow thick in his voice.

“Muyan,” Zhuo Fan said, “I know you’ve always been so good to me, ever since we were kids. But I never imagined you’d take such a huge risk to come and save me. For someone as possessive as Xiao Han to let you near me, you must have paid a huge price. Tell me… why?”

With every sentence, Wen Muyan’s face fell further. How the hell am I supposed to respond to this? He knew perfectly well that tonight’s infiltration had been reckless—an utterly stupid move. I’m a complete idiot, he thought grimly.

Now that he considered it, Xiao Han—who lived with this guy—probably had to hear these melodramatic monologues every single day. What kind of expression did he even wear when faced with this level of nonsense?

In that moment, Wen Muyan—against all odds—felt a rare and strange flicker of compassion for Xiao Han.

“Zhuo Fan, listen to me. Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, trying to stay calm. “Everything I do, I do for myself. I’ll save you—that much is certain. But not today. Go back to your room and don’t do anything suspicious.”

He glanced around, making sure no one had noticed them yet.

Zhuo Fan looked deep into his eyes and nodded slowly. “I understand. Muyan… I know you’re only saying that because you don’t want to cause me trouble.”

You understand my ass.

Wen Muyan had to forcibly suppress the bitter smile that twitched at the corners of his lips. His only priority now was getting Zhuo Fan safely back to his room.

He was just beginning to relax, preparing to slip out through the window, when the door suddenly swung open. Steward Xian Fu stepped in, carrying Zhuo Fan’s dinner!

The two men, who had just shared their quiet farewell, stood frozen like statues.

Xian Fu also stood stunned for a moment, then quickly regained his composure. He shouted for the guards to inform the Young Master and ordered others to intercept the intruder.

Knowing Xiao Han would arrive any second, Wen Muyan’s mind snapped back into gear. He didn’t bother trying to run anymore. Instead, he calmly clung to the windowsill, silently waiting for Young Master Xiao to come and drag him in.

The method had gone completely off-script, but what mattered wasn't the means—only the result.

Unfortunately, someone intervened.

Zhuo Fan rushed to the window, blocking Wen Muyan’s escape and shielding him with his body. Finding no weapon at hand, he grabbed a vase, smashed it on the floor, and picked up a jagged shard. He pressed it against his own throat.

When Xiao Han arrived, the first thing he saw was Zhuo Fan standing defiantly, ready to end it all. Frowning, he listened to Xian Fu report what had happened, but Zhuo Fan’s figure blocked the window, making it impossible to tell whether Wen Muyan was still there.

Xiao Han took two steps forward—only for Zhuo Fan to immediately yell, “If you come any closer, I’ll kill myself right here!”

“…”

What the actual hell? Since when are you this determined? You spend all your time trying to escape, and now suddenly you’re suicidal?

Xiao Han stopped in his tracks, forced to halt. He had no choice. Even if he doubted this idiot would actually go through with it, he couldn’t risk injury—especially with an important scene set to unfold two days from now.

He was at a loss.

He had no idea that outside the window, Wen Muyan was barely holding on, fingers aching, body trembling. Exhaustion was catching up with him fast. He was dying to climb inside, but Zhuo Fan remained planted like a stubborn guard dog—refusing to move, even flailing one hand behind him to wave Wen Muyan away.

Wen Muyan had to dodge that wildly swinging arm again, narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the face for the umpteenth time. This is hell, he thought, clinging desperately, his limbs shaking. I’m going to fall at this rate…

“Over there! Catch him! Don’t let him get away!”

The villa guards were closing in.

Realizing there was no hope of slipping into the room, Wen Muyan exhaled. He had no other choice now—he had to let himself be caught.

As expected, Xiao Han was surprisingly cooperative. He immediately ordered his men not to harm Wen Muyan and to escort him politely to the office.

Although Xiao Han gave the order in front of everyone, Zhuo Fan stubbornly refused to believe it. He pleaded with Xiao Han to release Wen Muyan, insisting on seeing him leave with his own eyes. Otherwise, he threatened, he would slit his throat with the shard of the broken vase still gripped tightly in his hand!

At that moment, both Xiao Han and Wen Muyan simultaneously wanted to die from sheer exasperation. Consumed by frustration, Xiao Han glared at Zhuo Fan—only to ultimately give in, worn down by the threat. He ordered his subordinates to let Wen Muyan go.

From the window, Zhuo Fan watched Wen Muyan walk away, a look of regret in his eyes. When Wen Muyan paused and turned back after a few steps, Zhuo Fan, thinking he was worried about him, was deeply moved. He shouted, “Muyan, go! Don’t worry about me! We’ll meet again soon!”

Hearing that, Wen Muyan nearly stumbled. Clenching his teeth, he barely suppressed the violent urge to turn back and grind the heel of his shoe into Zhuo Fan’s face. Without a word, he left the villa, his body drained from fatigue and his mind fuming with irritation.

Not far behind, Xiao Han covered his face with one hand. Imagining what Wen Muyan must be feeling, he found himself torn between helpless amusement and sheer irritation. When Zhuo Fan turned to him with a pleading expression, Xiao Han looked away, thoroughly defeated. Too tired to say another word, he silently walked out of the room.

Due to a casual line in the script stating that Xiao Han would remain at home for three days awaiting Wen Muyan’s return, he was forced to hole up in his office. Bored out of his mind, he secretly called Wen Muyan. The two of them passed the time by venting their frustrations and mocking the absurdity of the script like two comrades trapped in a farce.

Wen Muyan, meanwhile, hadn’t given up on sneaking into the villa again. But each time he tried, Zhuo Fan somehow managed to interfere, sabotaging his efforts and rendering them completely useless.

These bizarre coincidences eventually led Xiao Han and Wen Muyan to a disturbing realization: every time they tried to outmaneuver the plot… was the script mocking them?

It wasn’t long before they noticed something was off.

The script… had changed.

Originally, Wen Muyan was supposed to come to Zhuo Fan three days later and give him a pocket pistol. After all, Zhuo Fan had once been a mafia prince. Even if he was now playing the role of the "redeemed good guy," he still knew how to use a gun. That night, Zhuo Fan was meant to escape with the pistol, while Wen Muyan waited for him outside. During the chase, Xiao Han was supposed to shoot Zhuo Fan in the arm. The wound—combined with betrayal and despair—would send Zhuo Fan spiraling into heartbreak, leaving his feelings for Xiao Han in ashes.

As for Xiao Han, devastated by Zhuo Fan’s disappearance and uncertain whether he’d survived, he would be consumed by guilt and regret. Only then would he realize that beneath his need for revenge, he had developed genuine feelings for Zhuo Fan.

What followed was to be a long arc of repentance and redemption, with Xiao Han transforming from a vengeful scoundrel into a man determined to win back the one he had lost.

But on the eve of that pivotal day, both Xiao Han and Wen Muyan noticed something strange: the script had been altered. In the original version, Wen Muyan’s role was limited to waiting outside. Now, he was expected to personally break into the villa and extract Zhuo Fan himself. And Xiao Han’s storyline… had taken an even weirder turn.

Moreover, the scene where he was meant to shoot Zhuo Fan had been rewritten entirely—and what was supposed to happen now was so absurd, neither of them had the courage to finish reading it.

“You saw that the script changed too?” Xiao Han asked, voice level.

In the quiet of night, he sat on the couch, legs crossed, cigarette in hand. A cup of black coffee rested on the table in front of him, its rich, bitter aroma wafting through the air.

“…Mn.” Wen Muyan’s voice came through the phone after a brief pause. “Don’t you think this script has it out for me?”

“You’re only realizing that now?” Xiao Han replied, exhaling a puff of smoke. “The protagonist exists to push the plot forward. The supporting character? They’re just there to suffer and be loved for it. If you’re not a little tragic, how else will people pity you?”

His words were light, but the tension in his voice betrayed a deeper frustration.

“Let them pity someone else,” Wen Muyan muttered darkly. “All I want is a peaceful life.”

Thinking about what awaited them the next day, Xiao Han felt a ripple of unease. “…How are your preparations coming along?”

“I’m going to follow the plan step by step,” Wen Muyan replied. “Since the script already changed once, it can just as easily change again. Who knows what we’re walking into tomorrow?”

“Oh? How optimistic,” Xiao Han said with a faint smile, his brows easing slightly. “Don’t tell me… you’re actually looking forward to it?”

“…W-who’s looking forward to it!” Wen Muyan snapped, stumbling over his words.

Xiao Han burst out laughing. “W-who’s the one stuttering now, huh?”

“…Go to hell.”

Xiao Han’s laughter faded, and he grew serious again. “Tell me, Wen Muyan… have you noticed how the time we get to prepare for the script is getting shorter and shorter?”

“Mn. At first, we had two weeks' notice. Now, it’s only a few days at best.”

Xiao Han paused, searching for the right words. “Then… is it possible that one day, we’ll be like ordinary people—unable to predict what comes next?”

Upon hearing this, Wen Muyan suddenly sounded cheerful. “Does that mean we might finally break out of this cursed cycle?”

“Maybe. It’s just a guess,” Xiao Han muttered, slipping his cigarette between his lips. “If that really happens, have you ever thought about becoming an actor? You’d be amazing.”

“Ha! Not a bad idea. What about you? Got any grand plans?” Wen Muyan asked enthusiastically.

Xiao Han stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. Gazing into the distance, he replied solemnly,
“Me? I’ve got simple dreams. I just want to marry a rich, terminally ill woman and live the rest of my life in peace.”

“…You think too much, you gay!”

No matter what wild speculations they had about the future, the long-dreaded second day eventually arrived.

Wen Muyan came as planned and asked to speak to Zhuo Fan in private. Xiao Han’s face turned cold, and he led the two of them into a dim basement. The room was gloomy and narrow, with only one door and a palm-sized air vent. There was no escape.

As if that weren’t enough, a CCTV camera was installed in the corner. Xiao Han had had it put in over the past three days, without telling anyone.

Though he didn’t listen to their conversation, Xiao Han watched the feed and saw Wen Muyan suddenly grow strangely excited. Then, as though he could no longer hold back, he grabbed Zhuo Fan and kissed him hard.

Xiao Han’s rage exploded. He stormed toward the door and kicked it open with such force that it slammed against the wall. Guards rushed in, quickly prying the two apart.

Wen Muyan struggled, but he was no match for the overwhelming numbers. Soon his limbs were restrained, bound tightly to prevent him from moving.

Don’t accuse the script of being lazy. After all, this isn’t a wuxia novel.

“Xiao Han! What the hell are you doing? You promised to let us talk in private, and yet you were spying on us the whole time!” Zhuo Fan yelled, struggling in vain, his voice thick with frustration. Even though he had only resisted the kiss half-heartedly, now he found himself arguing against the man who had forced it on him.

“Wen Muyan, you’re something else, huh? Bringing this kind of thing—wait, what the hell is this?” Xiao Han ignored Zhuo Fan’s outburst and searched Wen Muyan. Feeling a strange bulge in his clothes, Xiao Han assumed it was the pistol the script called for and, with dramatic timing, retrieved the item while delivering his line.

But what he pulled out was… a bottle of lube and a box of condoms!

—Wait, where’s the gun?! Did this man really come this prepared?

Xiao Han locked eyes with Wen Muyan, who looked so mortified he seemed ready to dig a hole and crawl inside it. Frantically, Wen Muyan gestured toward his other pocket.

Xiao Han coughed awkwardly and quickly fished out the pistol.

“Zhuo Fan, do you take me for a fool?” he barked. “You dared to pull a stunt like this under my nose? Fine—then I’ll show you what happens when you piss me off!”

His face darkened as he sneered, grabbing Zhuo Fan by the chin and forcing his gaze upward. His eyes glinted with menace.
“So it’s true—there really is something going on between you and that Wen guy. Since you’re willing to threaten your life to protect him, fine. I won’t kill him. But let me show you what it means to destroy someone!”

“X-Xiao Han, what are you going to do to him? Your grudge is with me! Don’t drag him into this—” Zhuo Fan cried out in genuine panic, shaking his head desperately.

Xiao Han gave a cold signal, and his subordinates dragged Zhuo Fan out. He didn’t even glance back. His eyes were locked firmly on Wen Muyan.

And then… he lunged forward and began tugging at Wen Muyan’s clothes.

—Only, they wouldn’t tear.

He pulled again, harder this time. Still nothing. The buttons held fast. Annoyed and muttering under his breath, Xiao Han growled, “Couldn’t you wear something easier to rip? In novels, the clothes always come off so easily… This isn’t even scientific…”

Wen Muyan rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. Forgive him for his idiotic lifestyle full of reckless decadence!

Meanwhile, Zhuo Fan was screaming in the distance—his cries reaching operatic levels, as if he were the one about to be violated.

Xiao Han fumbled with the buttons for what felt like an eternity, finally managing to get Wen Muyan undressed. By the time he was done, his forehead was glistening with sweat.

He used his body to hide their actions, lubricated it well, then stood up and directly entered the 'enemy's' lair. After the initial pain, Wen Muyan gradually couldn't help but call out, his moans changing from pain to pleasure. Now, it was Xiao Han's turn to go crazy.

 

Translator : DarNan