The Savage Within

“God has given me countless chances to get rich, and I never seized a single one. But when it came to chances to act like a fool, I nailed every single one!” This internet joke perfectly summed up Ethan’s ten years of working life. When he first stepped into society, his dream had been to save up money, start a business, and gradually climb onto the Forbes rich list… But after years of being battered by reality, he had abandoned those naïve and overambitious dreams. Now, all he wanted was to find a woman he liked, get married, and have kids. If he could make a little extra money to stay home and take care of his parents nearby, that would be even better. Exhausted in both body and mind, Ethan walked home after work, thinking of his younger self and couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he had been. He was thirty this year, working as an interior designer for a renovation company in Nanquan City, F Province. Ignoring the calls from clients at midnight on his days off, the job wasn’t too bad, and the income was decent enough. Unlike some design studios, this renovation company focused mainly on construction projects. Design work was often partly sold, partly free, and sometimes entirely free. Being an interior designer sounded impressive, but it was tough—especially in a construction-focused company. Besides doing design work, you had to explain techniques to clients, negotiate quotes and contracts. Once construction started, if the site supervisors were incompetent, you often had to visit the site repeatedly to mediate disputes. If projects went poorly and clients were bad-tempered, they could even call you in the middle of the night to yell. In short, knowing design but lacking client communication skills meant you’d starve in such a company. Even if you were talented in design and skilled at closing deals, it only ensured survival. To achieve great results, you need more. At the very least, you have to maintain good relationships with clients, superiors, the marketing department, suppliers, and competent site supervisors. In other words, you had to be proactive and bold. Nothing falls from the sky; everything has to be earned. You couldn’t be too soft-hearted. You had to negotiate kickbacks shrewdly, persuade clients, make money while appearing professional and responsible. Ethan, given his abilities, could have done better. But he was a bit high-minded (or maybe he had never been cornered by life). He wouldn’t flatter anyone he disliked, wouldn’t bend over for a client just for quality, and wouldn’t let clients waste money just for kickbacks. He knew his ambitions were limited; he wasn’t willing to leave his comfort zone—call it laziness if you like. People like him were called principled in a flattering way; in reality, they were workplace losers. Sometimes growth is a process of self-recognition and compromise. Ethan had compromised. He knew he’d never get rich. Lost in thought, he dragged his tired body back to his rented apartment. Just as he entered, he heard his landlady, Mrs. Tsui, chatting with someone in the living room. “Hey, Ethan! You’re home from work!” said Mrs. Tsui stopped mid-sentence when she saw him. “Yeah.” Ethan nodded and was about to head upstairs when Mrs. Tsui introduced him. “Mrs. Lan, this is Ethan, the interior designer I told you about. Your daughter has a condo to renovate, and Ethan is reliable—definitely someone you can trust with the job.” “Thank you, Mrs. Tsui,” Ethan forced a smile, taking out his business card and handing it to the woman. “Hello, ma’am, here’s my card.” Mrs. Lan examined him closely. His slightly wavy, side-parted hair framed a chiseled, angular face. Beneath sharp brows, his black eyes were deep, almost expressive. A high nose bridge and medium lips made him very attractive. The only flaws were some blackheads on his nose and rough skin, but they didn’t affect his charm. Paired with his short stubble, he had a rugged masculinity. “What a handsome young man! Are you seeing anyone? How old are you? Where’s your hometown? Do you own a place here?” said Mrs. Lan rattled off her questions. She glanced at his card. “Heartfelt Design—I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it the largest home renovation company in Nanquan?” Ethan had a ready-made marketing pitch in his head, but the rapid-fire questions left him a bit flustered. Luckily, when she found out he didn’t own a place in Nanquan, she stopped probing. “Well, it’s getting late. I’ll leave now, and I’ll have my daughter contact you later.” Mrs. Lan seemed disappointed, but added earnestly, “Ethan, work hard! With your looks and skills, you’ll definitely find a girlfriend!” Ethan, out of politeness and potential client consideration, nodded weakly. His rented apartment was in the Muchuo neighborhood of Xiufeng District, Nanquan City. Riding the wave of economic growth, locals often renovated their houses to rent to workers from out of town, collecting rent monthly and potentially huge compensation if the area was demolished. The building was five stories. The first, fourth, and fifth floors were occupied by the homeowner; the second and third floors were for rent. After Mrs. Lan left, Ethan greeted Mrs. Tsui and headed upstairs. A golden Labrador suddenly bolted from the kitchen and jumped at his feet. It was the landlady’s dog, Lucky. Ethan had lived there five years and considered Lucky practically his own. He often shared food with him, and Lucky was very affectionate. “No treats today, Lucky.” Seeing Lucky, Ethan sighed inwardly. He wished he could be a pet dog—carefree every day, eating, sleeping, playing. “Don’t mind him; he’s getting fat, should lose some weight.” “Yes, look at all that meat.” Lucky seemed to understand, wagging his tail and nudging Ethan’s hand with his head. Ethan patted his head and headed to his unit on the third floor. Once inside, he immediately removed his T-shirt and checked his back in the full-length mirror. About two weeks ago, during the company’s May Day promotion, Ethan had started suffering from insomnia, irritability, loss of appetite, and poor mental state. At the time, he blamed work stress and ignored it. But starting last Thursday, his spine began to itch and throb painfully at night, as if something was crawling out. His hunger intensified, and nothing he ate helped. Two nights ago, the pain spread to his joints and gums, worse than the night before. “Swollen again… as always, as soon as the sun sets.” Staring at his back, Ethan felt a sense of doom. During the holidays, designers had staggered time off. After the May Day campaign, he had three days off. Last Saturday morning, he went to City First Hospital for CT, MRI, and pathology tests; results will be ready tomorrow. Before leaving work, he had requested leave to pick up the reports. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he stayed for the next several minutes. As the sun set, darkness fell, and the hunger and itching pain came back—stronger than the day before. “Damn, everything was fine at the end-of-year checkup. Why now??” He sat on the bed, furious and scared. Within half an hour, the pain spread to all his joints, and his hunger grew unbearable. “Ah…” Eventually, the pain was too much. His throat involuntarily emitted a low growl. He collapsed to the floor, his spine on fire, stabbing his nerves, brain cortex overstimulated, as if thousands of needles were piercing him. For the next hour, the combined hunger and burning pain caused him to lose control. His limbs twitched uncontrollably, like a rabid dog in its frenzy. “This… this can’t be happening. Am I… dying?” The thought flashed as his consciousness began to blur, until he plunged completely into darkness.