Why Bother Arguing with a High-IQ Lunatic?
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“Yuyu, what were you looking at while you were showering?”
—Chen Cebai had discovered it.
Qiu Yu’s pupils slightly dilated. Her first reaction was shock. How did he know she was looking at something while showering? Had he hacked into her chip?
It made sense.
He had said it himself—unless the intruder’s skill far surpassed that of the person who designed the anti-intrusion program, it would be impossible to hack into the city center’s billboards.
And he himself was the intruder.
If he wanted to see her chip, it would naturally be effortless.
Just as Qiu Yu was about to speak, Chen Cebai suddenly reached out and covered her mouth.
“Don’t speak. Let me guess.”
His body temperature was always cold, but it had never been as frigid as now, almost like ice, freezing the lower half of her face.
Qiu Yu couldn’t help but wrinkle her face and sharply inhale, pushing against his arm.
However, Chen Cebai’s hand didn’t budge in the slightest.
“You saw a pathetic wretch. He was born in a filthy garbage dump and spent the first half of his life struggling and surviving under the company’s control.”
“But this pathetic wretch had extraordinary luck. Every day, thousands of people wrote to the company, hoping to change their fate. But only he and a little over a thousand others were chosen.”
“Over a thousand test subjects underwent five years of genetic modification simultaneously. He thought he was doomed to die, yet by sheer luck, he survived along with twelve other test subjects.”
“Maybe because his luck was too good, ‘God’ sent someone among these thirteen test subjects to randomly choose a Judas to kill—or maybe a Jesus, whatever, just to put a stop to his streak of luck. But he still survived.”
As he spoke, Chen Cebai abruptly turned on the room’s wall lamp.
Qiu Yu disliked cold-toned lighting, so every light fixture in the room, no matter its position, was warm-toned.
But no amount of warmth from the lights could soften the horror before her eyes.
The floor, the walls, the ceiling, even the chandelier—every surface was crawling with cold, slick, pitch-black filth. It spread outward like some grotesque, deformed organism, creeping and writhing, expanding like pulsating viscera, maliciously invading every inch of the bedroom.
It was like a scene straight out of a horror movie—an abandoned mansion deep in a desolate forest, where opening the door reveals nothing but dense, sticky cobwebs.
It felt as if the moment she stepped inside, a massive spider would lunge at her from behind.
Fear comes from the unknown, and faced with this overwhelming sense of uncertainty, Qiu Yu found it impossible not to feel her scalp tingle.
She could only desperately chant in her mind: This thing is Chen Cebai. This thing is Chen Cebai. It’s Chen Cebai… Just to barely suppress her terror.
Wait… This thing was Chen Cebai, right?
Chen Cebai’s voice carried no emotion.
“The side effect of genetic modification was the complete rupture of his DNA chains. For nearly a year, he existed only as a mass of dissolving, restructuring, and dissolving flesh.”
Chen Cebai never released her mouth, as if it were Pandora’s box—one he had to ensure remained tightly shut at all times.
“Later, someone injected him with a highly active, highly aggressive, infinitely proliferating adhesive substance. His luck never disappeared. Despite undergoing genetic modification, despite his entire DNA chain breaking apart, despite being injected with an unknown substance, he still managed to survive until today.”
“And he even married you.”
The shift in perspective that came with that last sentence made Qiu Yu’s heart stop for a beat.
She instinctively held her breath.
As if sensing her reaction, Chen Cebai let out a low chuckle—still emotionless, but laced with an unmistakable chill of malice.
It was unclear whether that malice was directed at her, or at himself.
“Back when he was still in school, he was already coveting you.”
Chen Cebai pinched her cheek, his thumb slowly stroking her skin.
“At first, he only wanted to know why you were so naïve—clearly, you understood everything, yet you acted as if you understood nothing. So naïve that it was almost foolish.”
When Qiu Yu heard the words “so naïve that it was almost foolish,” she raised her eyebrows and had the urge to bite him.
But his next sentence made her freeze:
“But it was precisely that foolish naïveté that allowed him to experience what it felt like to be a normal person.”
—Was he even human?
For a long time, Chen Cebai had been pondering this question.
He was born in the sweltering, hellish landfill, where the stench of decaying, unclean corpses lingered in the air all year round—a place unfit for human habitation.
From the moment he was born, he had never lived a normal life.
And afterward, it was even more impossible.
He didn’t even have a human form—so how could he be considered human?
After entering university, even though his academic performance was unparalleled, no one ever valued him.
The professors and lecturers at the school all knew about his origins. They feared and dreaded him, with a tinge of unspoken envy mixed in.
The students, unaware of his true identity, believed he had been admitted purely through his own abilities and “exam results,” so they subjected him to relentless bullying.
Experiment records were destroyed. Equipment was sabotaged.
Mockery, isolation, endless insults, and rumors.
None of it had any effect on him.
—Every single time, he could calculate the probabilities in advance and avoid them perfectly.
Throughout his schooling, he had never actually suffered real bullying.
No one could surpass his computational abilities and inflict violence on him.
The only time it happened was because he had willingly walked into it.
—That time he kissed Qiu Yu.
The moment he was restrained by the people around her, it looked like prey walking into a trap—when in reality, it was the hunter silently approaching his target.
Aside from using their genetic compatibility to avoid unnecessary harassment, he also wanted to see—
In that situation, would she treat him the same as everyone else?
How would she see him?
A poor nobody? A genius?
Or just a foolish dreamer deserving of pity?
With an expression of indifference, Chen Cebai effortlessly hacked into the machine calculating compatibility scores, then cast a glance at Qiu Yu.
But in Qiu Yu’s eyes, there was nothing—only clarity.
To her, he was no different from anyone else around them.
Chen Cebai averted his gaze, but an uncontrollable numbness spread through his heart.
In this world, he had too many identities.
A genius, a monster, a pauper, the hope of the lower class…
The company turned him into a disgusting mass of blood and flesh, then packaged him into a product—so exquisitely crafted it became repulsive.
From the very beginning, he was never a living person. He was merely an object, a consumable in an experiment, the final data of the research.
Only Qiu Yu looked at him as if he were a living person. And she kissed him.
A naïve and foolish girl.
Yet he was so greedy for that foolish naïveté.
After that, they became husband and wife.
His body had been deteriorating all along—his body temperature dropping, his heart rate never exceeding 50, his breathing frequency approaching that of a corpse.
He thought he could die at any moment. He never once considered plundering or possessing her.
Until she willingly walked into his net.
Chen Cebai’s tone was exceedingly calm, and paired with his use of third-person narration, it was as if he were a detached observer.
Several times, Qiu Yu felt a moment of daze, as if he were truly telling someone else’s story.
But no.
It was him.
He had personally gone through those things.
A suffocating feeling overwhelmed her. It felt as though her heart were a towel being wrung tighter and tighter. Her eyes grew hot and misty—she had the urge to turn around and embrace him.
But he was gripping her cheek with one hand, while the other locked around her waist, forbidding her from moving.
Qiu Yu felt utterly miserable, and without thinking, she really bit him.
Chen Cebai paused for a moment, then let out a light chuckle, his voice returning to that peculiar gentleness.
“Don’t be impatient. I’m almost done talking.”
As his words fell, he suddenly lifted her up horizontally, holding her like a child, settling her onto the crook of his arm.
Qiu Yu was stunned, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. Then, to her surprise, she realized—she could speak again! Just as she was about to open her mouth, some unknown adhesive substance suddenly emerged and stuck over her lips like tape.
Qiu Yu: “…”
She was a person with a very good temper.
But no matter how good one’s temper was, in a situation like this, there was bound to be an urge to explode.
Chen Cebai held her waist and lightly bounced his arm, as if adjusting her position to make her sit more securely.
But this action was far too shameful. Qiu Yu’s anger hadn’t even subsided before another wave of embarrassment surged over her. She buried her face into the side of Chen Cebai’s neck, using her actions to express her resistance.
His tone revealed no trace of emotion:
“Even if you don’t want to listen, you have to.”
Qiu Yu just wanted to curse him out.
Chen Cebai sensed her resistance, and a wave of irritation flared in his heart. The hostility in his chest surged even higher.
He knew he couldn’t expect her to sympathize with a monster.
But before, she had shown how much she liked him—almost unconditionally trusting and indulging him.
And so, he couldn’t help but let a sliver of hope rise within him.
Like a pauper longing for gold to fall from the sky, he hoped she would continue to love him as she had before, to believe in him, to indulge him.
Chen Cebai closed his eyes for a moment.
He pinched her chin, forcing her to turn her head and look at him.
There were tears in her eyes, burning with the fire of anger.
Chen Cebai stared at her, enunciating each word:
“So, my luck has finally run out, hasn’t it?”
His luck was both good and bad.
Though he hadn’t died, he had completely turned into a monster that defied nature—his desires and emotions amplified and intensified at every moment.
There are no walls in the world that don’t let wind through. He couldn’t hide it forever, but he hadn’t expected the truth to be exposed so quickly.
On the way back, he hadn’t spoken to her because he had to focus all his attention on figuring out the rules of the higher-dimensional world. Otherwise, with just one careless move, he could cause unimaginable destruction.
After entering another dimension, she appeared as thin and fragile as paper before him. Even the slightest touch could press against her blood vessels and organs. Until he figured out the rules of the higher-dimensional world, he couldn’t go near her.
The moment she opened those videos in the bathroom, he sensed it immediately. But at the time, he was still figuring out how to touch a human body without pressing against bones and blood vessels, so he hadn’t rushed over immediately.
…It was also because he held onto a faint sliver of hope.
The hope that she would treat him the same way she had treated the human Chen Cebai.
But his hope was in vain.
When she frowned and turned away, unable to bear watching his atrocities in the bathroom, he should have faced the truth.
—She was afraid of him.
Just as she had said—she feared voyeurs, feared intruders.
And she was right. He was shameless beyond measure.
Even knowing she was afraid, he still refused to let go of her.
A violent rage surged in his heart.
Chen Cebai stared motionlessly at Qiu Yu, his breathing growing rapid, his gaze taking on a terrifying madness.
He couldn’t quite describe the feeling—he only knew it was unbearably irritable, and within that irritation, there was a trace of… despair.
He knew he wasn’t worthy. That was why he had never even thought of possessing her.
It was she who had become his prey, placing her neck into his palm, inviting him to hunt her down.
And now that he had completely mutated into a monster that preyed on her, she was afraid of him. She didn’t want him anymore.
Chen Cebai’s face was expressionless. He let out a cold laugh.
Before she decided she didn’t want him—had she gotten his permission?
Qiu Yu’s mouth was finally freed.
She exhaled sharply, just about to start cursing—
When a violent, storm-like kiss crashed down upon her.
He gripped her chin, pressing forcefully against her lips, his icy tongue forcing its way between her teeth.
Cold and heat. Despair and fury. Predator and prey.
It was still that kind of beast-like, primal, and unrefined kiss.
But this time, something was different.
Qiu Yu was kissed until her brain was deprived of oxygen. It took her a long time to realize what had changed.
—A wolf in sheep’s clothing, having shed its refined veneer, now fully exposed its violent and untamed nature.
This time, he wasn’t just brutally plundering the saliva from her mouth; he was also fiercely and mercilessly sucking on the tip of her tongue.
She felt a sharp pain and tried to retreat.
He grabbed her hair in one swift motion, refusing to let her pull back even an inch. His eyes were crazed, his gaze terrifying:
“Did I allow you to move?”
Qiu Yu glared at him angrily, just about to speak, when he coldly looked at her, gripped her cheeks, and kissed her again.
Just as aggressive as before, just as… desperate.
Qiu Yu had been so enraged that her heart was pounding violently, but when she saw the despair in his eyes, all her fury deflated like a punctured balloon.
Why bother arguing with a high-IQ lunatic?
She thought to herself—he had the nerve to say she was naïve to the point of stupidity.
She thought he was intelligent to the point of stupidity.
The moment the kiss ended, before she could say a word, the ghostly hands formed from the adhesive substance once again covered her mouth.
Qiu Yu could only continue glaring at him.
Chen Cebai was also looking at her.
Through his glasses, his pupils had shrunk into two thin slits. His expression was both strange and dazed, with darkened veins bulging across his forehead and neck.
His hand was clasped around her neck, trembling slightly, as if his emotions were so intense that his brain had lost control over his body.
Only Chen Cebai knew the reason—it was because, in another dimension, her carotid artery was infinitely close to the pad of his finger.
That overwhelming sense of control, amplified to the extreme, made him feel slightly dizzy, drowning in a tidal wave of excitement.
Not only did his pupils contract into needlepoints, but the adhesive substance around them also writhed feverishly, as if boiling.
She was his.
No other predator could ever control their prey as completely as he did.
She would never be able to escape him again.
He was already a despicable, shameless monster—why not be even more despicable and shameless?
After permanently possessing her, he could slowly scheme for her feelings.
When that time came, he would teach her, step by step, how to love him, how to sympathize with him, how to tolerate him as she once did.
And yet, in this seemingly exhilarating fantasy, a lingering trace of despair refused to dissipate.
Perhaps because he knew—he would never actually treat her that way.
He would never strip away her personality, never take away her freedom, never turn her into his possession.
He couldn’t bear to.
Chen Cebai thought—he had completely lost her.
…
Qiu Yu glared at Chen Cebai in a furious rage, finally waiting until he released her mouth.
He placed her back on the ground, took a step back, his cold and sharp features concealed in the shadows of the room. He lifted his chin toward the door, as if signaling for her to leave.
Qiu Yu was utterly baffled.
He had just bitten her all over, leaving her lips sore—and now he was telling her to leave?
Her brain was still deprived of oxygen. For the moment, she couldn’t even think of any insults to hurl at him. She remained standing where she was, wanting to catch her breath before cursing him out.
Chen Cebai glanced at her, his tone still that infuriatingly emotionless one:
“If you don’t leave now, you won’t have the chance to later. Or… do you want to be mine forever—”
Qiu Yu’s head was spinning. She didn’t want to listen to his rambling.
On top of that, she was truly furious. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Unable to hold back, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
“Smack—”
It wasn’t a hard hit.
But it was enough to shut him up.
Qiu Yu thought—if she had known a slap would shut him up, she should have done it earlier.
The moment he covered her mouth and started his long-winded speech, she should have just given him two slaps right away.