When the Wild Beast is Trapped in the Nightmare Cycle (BL)-Chapter 700: Shang’s Nightmare (3)

Shang was fired dishonorably from his job, leaving with nothing but another sum of hush money in the name of compensation, as well as an infuriating sense of defeat and shame.

By all accounts, he could have switched to another job and continued his stable life. The amount of money he received this time was even more staggering than the previous, enough to ensure that he could live comfortably for the rest of his life. Both his parents’ retirement had been secured and he had also bought them a nice house in the countryside. All the things he used to worry about had been solved with the power of money, but...

He was unwilling.

Truly, extremely, bitterly unwilling.

Seeing the balance in his bank account now felt like an unbearable stain, a stark reminder of how weak and insignificant he was, so cheap, so easily discarded and trampled underfoot. What could secure his family for a lifetime was nothing more than loose change to those people. It was the very first time he learned how much disparity could exist between human beings, and how laughable his resistance was in their eyes.

Power. He wanted more power— enough to make those who had once looked down on him regret it. To erase the condescension in their gazes and replace it with a look of extreme regret, fear and flattery!

Just thinking about it was enough to fill him with unprecedented thrill and bliss.

Therefore, Shang started a company.

Transitioning from a teacher to a businessman was no easy matter, especially since the business world had always been ruthless. It demanded not only courage, wit, determination but also— luck. Fortunately, Shang was gifted with high intelligence, keen emotional acuity, and combined that with an appearance that worked to his advantage, he managed to befriend some quite influential figures and slowly established his own footing.

Yet one problem remained: he needed more money.

Nobody warned him that starting a company was just like feeding a black hole. In just the first few months, Shang had burned through nearly all of his savings just to polish his image and make himself look more presentable, molding himself into someone worthy of blending with potential business partners.

It was during this difficult time that his new acquaintance told him: "I heard Mr. Fang is coming to town! He has always been very generous with start-up companies. Shang, if you can impress him, you won’t have to worry about investors ever again!"

At that time, Shang was at his wit’s end. He had almost drunk himself to stomach ulcer, having to host dinner for potential investors every single day. And yet they all hesitated to pour their funds, mainly because Shang was still too green and inexperienced and had yet to create a name for himself.

If this went on, he wouldn’t be able to pay his employees’ wages for the next month, and his company would go bankrupt sooner or later!

No! How could he accept such an outcome?! He had only just begun, so how could he bear to lose everything now?!

This one phone call arrived just at the right time, like a long-awaited spring rain that extinguished the raging forest fire.

Shang was instantly invigorated. "I..." he wanted to say he’s in, but all of a sudden, he was paralyzed, his tongue becoming so numb and heavy that he could not get a single word out. Every single cell on his body seemed to scream and resist, telling him— don’t accept! Don’t go there!

However, this inexplicable sensation only lasted for a few short seconds before vanishing.

What was that...? Shang frowned, rubbing his chest. Am I coming down with something?

"Hello?" The voice on the other end called out. "Hello, Shang??"

Shang snapped back to his senses. "Ah, yes, yes! Of course, I’m in! Where should I go?"

The meeting was held in a private, members-only club, clearly a gathering place for the elites. For this occasion, Shang spared no effort to groom himself, making sure that every single strand of his hair was in place.

He had to succeed this time, he told himself. He could not afford to mess up!

He simulated countless scenarios in his mind and prepared himself for any traps the other person might lay out. He kept practicing his smile and body language in front of the mirror, ensuring he looked neither submissive nor arrogant. He armed himself to the teeth, fully prepared to tackle the battle ahead.

But when he pushed open the door to the private room, his entire person froze at the sight of someone who absolutely shouldn’t be there.

The other person was equally surprised to see him, a bright smile spreading across his face. "Eh, isn’t this Teacher Shang?" he waved. "Teach, do you still remember me?"

Shang stood rooted on the doorway, feeling his blood flowing backwards. An intense chill enveloped him, as if he had plunged into an icy abyss.

How could he have forgotten? How could he?

He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to!

It had been over a year since they last met, and the grouchy teen had now shed off his adolescence, showing a hint of maturity. And yet Shang still recognized him at a glance. And the way the boy called him ’Teacher’... it instantly brought him back to those nightmarish days he would rather forget. How could he be here? How could he possibly be here, sitting between people twice as old as him, yet still blending in effortlessly as if he was born to be there?!

He even addressed Mr. Fang as ’Uncle’!

Shang was horrified. For the very first time, he learned how narrow the world could be. No matter how far he ran and how desperately he tried to sever himself from the past, it was bound to catch up to him one day.

.

.

He should have heeded his instinct and never stepped foot into this gathering.

That had been his last—and also biggest—mistake.

.

.

"So Teacher Shang is now an entrepreneur, huh? Should I call you Mr. Shang?"

Shang raised his head and locked eyes with the boy’s reflection in the mirror, who was leaning against the door watching him with interest.

His heart sank, but he tried not to show it on his face and simply pursed his lips.

Reaching for tissue papers, he dried the water droplets from his face while answering in a slightly hoarse voice, "You’re free to call me whatever you want." His tone was polite yet distant, but most importantly, not flattering.

He had drunk quite a bit tonight and had come out to wash his face and freshen up a bit. Who could have guessed the boy would take this opportunity to ambush him?

If possible, Shang did not want to engage further with the boy, and thus as soon as he was done with his business, he immediately turned to leave. But the boy blocked his way, almost gleefully so. "Ah, ah, what’s the hurry? We haven’t met for so long. Teacher, don’t you miss me?"

Shang finally shifted his gaze toward the other person, albeit reluctant. "...What do you want?"

The boy’s smile widened at his obvious vigilance. "After all this time, I’m glad that Teacher hasn’t changed a bit." He leaned in to whisper, "Still a hypocrite."

"You—!" Shang glared at him, his fists tightening.

"I can see that Uncle Fang has a good impression on you, Teach." He tapped on his chin, pondering. But his tone and expression made it painfully clear that he wasn’t taking this seriously at all. "Hmm, how about this? Shall I put in some good words for you? You do need the investment, don’t you, Mr. Shang?" he sing-songed, emphasizing on the new form of address.

At the sight of that playful smile, Shang finally recognized what he was seeing— pure, innocent malice. The boy had not changed at all, still liked to target the helpless and watch them be at his mercy, much like a child destroying an ant nest out of curiosity.

The long-buried sense of shame and humiliation surged back, crashing over him in violent waves.

How unfair.

How absurdly unfair, how laughable. The things he fought so hard to achieve, the things he desperately needed, was no more than something the boy could hand out with a few mere words based on his generosity. As if he was offering leftovers food to a beggar.

Was he destined to stay at the bottom rung forever, to be trampled and played with however they pleased? Was he destined to swallow this humiliation for the rest of his life?

How could this world be so cruelly unfair?

Back in the private room, the boy deliberately pushed aside the lady accompanying him and addressed Shang, "Who could have guessed I would meet my favorite teacher here? This must be fate! Teacher, won’t you pour me a drink and have a toast with me?" he pushed his empty glass forward.

"Hahaha!" Mr. Fang broke into loud guffaws, looking both unrestrained and half-drunk with two beautiful ladies in each arm. "And you were still acting reluctant when I invited you earlier! Aren’t you glad to come here with me, boy?"

"Yeah, I’m sooo glad..." he responded while keeping his gaze locked on Shang, arching a meaningful brow.

Shang trembled in his seat, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles whitened under the force. He knew, he knew very well this was the boy’s attempt to humiliate him. And yet... he was still helpless. He couldn’t just storm out of the room out of momentary impulse. He needed this investment, needed to feed his employees and stabilize his young company.

Keeping in mind his purpose tonight, Shang gritted his teeth, stood up and humiliatedly poured a drink for the boy.

But just as he bent down, a force struck the back of his knees, causing him to stumble! The bottle of expensive wine shattered, and the liquid splashed onto the boy. "Ah, my favorite shoes!" he jumped up in shock, grumbling. "How can you be so careless, Teach? These are the limited edition my dad had just bought for me last month, and now it’s ruined!"

"Come on, Mr. Shang didn’t do it on purpose." The people around them spoke up to defuse the situation, laughing lightly. "If you’re angry, just ask him to drink three glasses as punishment. You’re willing, aren’t you, Mr. Shang?"

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

"Just three glasses? That’s no fun!" The boy protested.

"What do you have in mind, then?" Mr. Fang asked with a hint of amusement.

"Hmm, let me think..." the boy pretended to contemplate for a while, then his eyes lit up. "Aha! How about... licking the shoes for me? Come on, this is really expensive! My dad will surely scold me when I go home later!"

"Pfft— hahaha! Boy, you really knew how to play!"

"Come on, look at how you’ve scared Mr. Shang!"

"Lick! Lick! Lick!"

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Shang sat on the ground, nausea rolling violently in his gut. The overly sweet and pungent scent of wine, the surrounding cheers, the boy’s arrogant smirk and condescending gaze... all of it churned together into a whirlpool of black sludge, covering him inch by inch. The noises were muffled when they reached his ears, as if the filth had already flooded his mouth and nose, forcing its way into his very bloodstream.

So dirty, so lowly.

How could he be willing? Just how?!

The expensive limited edition shoes, stained dark with spilled wine, stopped in front of him. A hand grabbed the back of his neck, almost roughly, forcing him to bow. The repulsive voice echoed beside his ears, tinged with a hint of malicious glee. "Come on, Teacher, all the people here are my father’s friends. You will give me this much face, won’t you?"

Shang breathed heavily, his vision blurring due to the sweat sliding down from his temple. His entire body was tense, trembling, like a single thin branch on the verge of breaking apart.

Just do it, a voice inside him said. Just obey him and get this over with. You will get your investment and your company will start to run smoothly. Just treat everything that happens tonight as a nightmare.

Just do it...

JUST DO IT...!!!

The atmosphere froze, all eyes staring in shock and disbelief.

"Uh..." the boy staggered and crashed onto the table behind him, one hand clutching at his neck where a sharp broken shard was embedded, blood gushing out between his fingers. His eyes were dazed, as if he had yet to process what had happened.

Then he collapsed sideways, his eyes still wide in shock and confusion.

Only then did the crowd react.

"A–AAAAAAHHHH, MURDER!!!"

"Help, someone died!!"

"Call the ambulance— quick!!!"

All eyes were locked on Shang, who sat there dumbfounded staring at the body before him.

What had just happened...?

He looked down at his trembling hands. Did I do that?

Have I killed him... just like that?

The ringing and dizziness on his head intensified as he recoiled in horror, belatedly realizing what he had just done. "No... I-I didn’t... I didn’t do it on purpose!" Yet his voice came out no louder than a mosquito buzz, lost in the chaos of the room.

Only a single thought was left in his distraught mind:

I’m doomed.

This time, I’m truly done for.