Chapter 8: Let's Earn a Billion First

After finishing his class, Gu Cheng returned to the dormitory to rest, only to realize that Han Geng had been tense all evening. It wasn’t until Gu Cheng appeared that Han Geng finally relaxed.

Gu Cheng thought for a moment and immediately understood what Han Geng was worried about. “Afraid I’ll run off? Rest assured, the reputation of Gu Cheng will be worth something in the future. I wouldn’t ruin my name over petty matters.”

Han Geng smiled awkwardly, not daring to say anything more.

The night passed without incident.

Early the next morning, it was finally time to put the plan into action. During training, Gu Cheng found a moment to slip over to the neighboring group’s training room. He searched around, confirming Park Eun-ho’s whereabouts.

He waited for Park Eun-ho to be alone and intercepted him at the entrance of the dance studio.

Park Eun-ho was completely unprepared, startled as he was stopped. “What? I thought you’d already chickened out. It’s been a week—don’t tell me you’ve suddenly got the guts again!”

Gu Cheng’s smile was icy. “A gentleman’s revenge is never too late in a week. You were the one who smeared oil on my spot that day, weren’t you? I repay kindness with kindness, and enmity with enmity. Even if I have no evidence, I’d still dare to beat you to death.”

Park Eun-ho had been worried that Gu Cheng might have secretly gathered dirt on him, and had planned to deny everything to the end if necessary. But hearing that Gu Cheng intended to settle things with violence, Park Eun-ho immediately regained his bravado. “Fight? Aren’t you afraid the company will punish you?”

“Do you dare, you coward? Don’t think I don’t know how poor you are, how much you need this job. If you lay a finger on me today, you’ll be fired tomorrow. Tsk tsk, a year and a half of hard training swept away in an instant—how tragic.”

A cold gleam flashed in Gu Cheng’s eyes, but he feigned a fierce yet hollow bravado, continuing to provoke him. “You think I don’t dare hit you? I just don’t want to wrong the innocent—do you believe that if you admit you framed me that day, I’ll beat you down, or I’m not Gu Cheng!”

Park Eun-ho instinctively stepped back half a pace, then steadied himself, silently berating himself: Why am I letting this blustering coward intimidate me? Aren’t all these guys here for money, only caring about profit? How could he have the guts to do something reckless? Unless… he’s wearing a recording device to set me up?

Yet, Gu Cheng’s hands were visible as he spoke. His right hand hung naturally at his side, not in his pockets, clearly unable to operate anything. His left hand pointed at Park Eun-ho’s nose, also incapable of holding anything.

So, even if there was a recording, it would be continuous—not selectively edited. After Gu Cheng’s bold words, “If I don’t beat you down, I’m not Gu Cheng,” if Park Eun-ho admitted his guilt and Gu Cheng didn’t act, even if the recording was exposed, everyone would look down on Gu Cheng for being timid and unreliable.

Who jokes about their family name and then fails to keep their word?

But if Gu Cheng actually fought, he’d be fired for sure.

Either way, Park Eun-ho felt he couldn’t lose.

Gu Cheng’s posture became the last straw fueling Park Eun-ho’s arrogance.

“So what if it was me? Fine, I’ll say it now—I framed you last week. Too bad I didn’t break your leg, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here today. I admit it. If you’ve got the guts, hit me! Come on!”

Gu Cheng suppressed his anger and finally asked coldly, “Is it just because I’m Chinese?”

“So what if it is, so what if it isn’t? That’s none of your concern. Enough talk. If you’re going to do it, bring it on.”

“I must ask clearly. Otherwise, I won’t even know your motive, and I don’t want to beat people up in confusion—if you just look down on Chinese, why target only me? Isn’t Han Geng also Chinese?”

Park Eun-ho laughed wildly. “I thought you were brave, but you’re just trying to drag others into your feud—well, I’m not afraid to tell you, Han Geng isn’t Han, so he’s not as unreliable as you Han people. And I’ve heard your ancestral home is Wu-Yue Province, right? People from there are famous for selling fakes—even we Easterners know it. Ha ha ha… sure enough, a swindler born in a nest of crooks!”

Gu Cheng’s last suspicion was confirmed by Park Eun-ho’s own admission. “Seems your prejudice against Han people runs deep. Too bad you don’t know the saying: villains perish from too much talk!”

The first half of Gu Cheng’s words carried a tone of pity, with no hint of threat. But as he uttered the last words, the atmosphere turned murderous.

He exploded into action, delivering a flying kick straight at him.

Park Eun-ho, relaxed and unsuspecting, was certain Gu Cheng was just a loudmouth—caught completely off guard, he was sent sprawling.

A mouthful of stomach acid spewed out violently.

Before his body hit the ground, Gu Cheng leapt forward, driving his knee hard into Park Eun-ho’s cheek.

Dazzled, ears ringing, Park Eun-ho tasted everything—spicy, bitter, acidic—all at once.

Just two moves, and he was beaten as miserably as the infamous Zhen Guan Xi.

“Ambush… the Chinese is attacking! Cough cough…”

After shouting this, he could only lie on the ground gasping for breath.

“Oh? I only kicked you, haven’t punched you yet. If you’re going to accuse me of assault, I might as well throw a few punches so it’s not wasted.”

With that, Gu Cheng swiftly stepped forward, pinning Park Eun-ho with his knee, then, in the style of Muay Thai, formed a loose fist and quickly struck several painful but hard-to-detect pressure points on Park Eun-ho’s body.

A fresh wave of shrill screams erupted.

Everyone in the dance studio rushed out, stunned by Gu Cheng’s ferocity.

“Whoever acts, takes responsibility alone! Don’t let him provoke you! What does ‘the Chinese is attacking’ mean? The only one fighting is me, Gu Cheng—it has nothing to do with any other Chinese trainees!

I accuse Park Eun-ho of framing me! And of racial discrimination! Just because a Chinese trainee once broke an agreement, does that justify sticking political labels on all Chinese trainees? Is the East still a democracy? If this is how things are, I’d rather not stay!”

Gu Cheng’s words were righteous and fierce. As he spoke, he pulled out a recorder and played back the incriminating words he’d just coaxed from Park Eun-ho in full, for everyone to hear.

The group of Eastern boys truly didn’t dare to gang up on him; if both sides fought, it could affect their own prospects in the company. These guys were still hoping to ingratiate themselves and get into a group.

At first, upon hearing Park Eun-ho’s screams, they had made as if to rush forward. Now, stopped in their tracks by Gu Cheng’s words, they seemed cowed by his presence.

Onlookers who didn’t know the full story only saw Gu Cheng standing proudly amid the crowd, showing no sign of fear.

The two sides faced off for a few seconds. Gu Cheng scanned the room, but no one dared step forward.

Han Geng hid far in the back, finally relieved at the sight.

A few female trainees, unfamiliar with Gu Cheng and late to arrive, couldn’t help but feel a flutter in their hearts: So heroic! A burst of masculinity among effeminate boys! Though this oppa would soon be fired, even that was done with style!

At last, Jung Yun-ho stepped forward and grabbed Gu Cheng’s arm.

Everyone tensed.

Jung Yun-ho was two years younger than Gu Cheng, clearly no match for his size.

Fortunately, the expected “blood and gore” didn’t happen.

Gu Cheng said coldly, “Yun-ho, you taught me the moonwalk before—I distinguish between gratitude and resentment, I don’t want to fight you. Let go!”

“Cheng-ge, you’re crazy! Don’t you want a future? Two years of hard work—for what? Hurry up and apologize to Park-senior, then come with me to Miss An and confess! If we keep this from Director Kim, maybe the company will forgive you.”

“No need, thank you.” Gu Cheng ignored Jung Yun-ho’s advice.

Within minutes, Miss An arrived, furious. After learning the situation, she berated Gu Cheng bitterly:

“You… you’ve really disappointed me! If a classmate framed you, why didn’t you report it? Instead, you set him up with a recorder. Such despicable methods—how could this happen in our company! You’ve corrupted people’s hearts! I can’t protect you anymore. Wait for the supervisor’s decision.”

With that, Miss An confirmed the situation and stormed off to report to Director Kim Young-min. The Eastern boys who hadn’t joined the fight now felt relieved and smug about Gu Cheng’s fate.

“Hmph, now you know! One moment’s pleasure—wasted a year and a half of training! Go beg at home!” A few venomous whispers mumbled indistinctly.

Gu Cheng sneered, surveying them with cold pride.

He was genuinely pleased—he’d never intended to join the group, and now had used this opportunity to gain startup funds. How could he not be pleased?

But in the eyes of those ill-intentioned boys, his satisfaction took on a different meaning.

Those who had mocked Gu Cheng now felt a chill, worried he might continue to be “unstable.”

Anyone he glanced at fell silent.

The barefoot fear not the shod. Anyone with assets or reputation to protect dreads having an unstable neighbor like Fatty Kim next door, lest one day he drag you down with him.

Gu Cheng’s posture now, in these people’s eyes, was like Castro waving Soviet “slipper” missiles, blasting rock music and shouting at President Kennedy, “Come on! Let’s hurt each other!”

No one played along, no one sought mutual harm.

“A bunch of cowards, so dull.” Gu Cheng slung his clothes over his shoulder and strode back to the dormitory without a backward glance.

…

That night, Gu Cheng received the company’s dismissal notice.

It was said that Director Kim Young-min even tried to personally intimidate Gu Cheng, promising that if he endured a “public beating” to restore management’s authority, the company would forgive his actions and not fire him.

At S-M, management beating debuted artists was common—let alone a few trainees.

But Director Kim’s attempt was firmly blocked by Gu Cheng’s “self-defense.”

Director Kim was left desolate, realizing that if an artist feared neither dismissal nor loss of reputation, and had no money, the company had nothing to hold over him.

Especially since Gu Cheng now held company scandals, which, if exposed, could be exploited by competitors.

This business could only end this way.

In the end, Gu Cheng and Park Eun-ho were both fired. No severance, but they had to repay part of the unpaid stipend and promotional expenses.

Gu Cheng, as a trainee, had hardly been promoted by the company.

The legal process would take a day or two to finalize.

His departure did not affect the selection schedule.

Two days later, Han Geng was successfully chosen for HOT’s second group—whether that group would replace the rebellious first group was now out of Gu Cheng’s hands.

The Han family was straightforward. Having witnessed Gu Cheng’s fierce decisiveness, they didn’t dare delay payment. The morning after the dismissal notice, they settled the remaining balance in cash.

Then both parties exchanged the incriminating documents and recordings from their agreement, and burned them with a lighter, so only heaven knew of their existence.

Finally, as the last flame consumed the papers, Gu Cheng lit a Halla Mountain menthol cigarette to calm himself.

“Brother Han, it’s been a pleasure working with you! May your future be brilliant, and may you become the next Ahn Chi-hyun. I won’t accompany you further,” Gu Cheng said, patting Han Geng’s shoulder calmly. “Miss An told me—together with the stipend and promotional compensation, I owe about ten thousand. Just a half year wasted, as expected.”

Seeing Gu Cheng so forthright, Han Geng’s impression of him improved. Rubbing his hands, he said,

“I thought you’d try to avoid paying the company. Didn’t expect you’d agree so readily.”

“No way!” Gu Cheng exhaled two smoke rings, speaking firmly,

“We Chinese are looked down upon for not being tough when signing contracts, relying on trickery, and then reneging when it’s time to fulfill them. I can negotiate by any means, but once the contract is signed, I must keep my word—a promise is a pit dug with spit! Don’t you have any legal spirit?”

“Sorry, Cheng-ge, I misspoke. I wish you a safe journey—no, I mean, may your future be bright.” Han Geng left, shamefaced.

Left alone, Gu Cheng counted his money and checked his bank card.

He had always been frugal, with about twenty or thirty thousand yuan saved. After paying, all his cash together amounted to a little over one hundred million in Eastern currency.

To register a company in the East, the minimum capital was one hundred million.

With this money, at least he could start a business.

“Life should start with a small goal—say, let me make my first hundred million.” Packing his luggage, Gu Cheng muttered.

Sadly, it was Eastern currency.