The Proud Rat's Mansion - Previous Day - 6:47 AM
Ào Shǔ woke up in his heart-shaped bed—a gaudy monstrosity covered in red velvet with gold trim that screamed "nouveau riche with terrible taste." At 4'8" tall and easily 280 pounds, he looked like a swollen tick that had gorged itself on blood and money.
He was surrounded by women. Five of them.
All young, all conventionally attractive, all completely naked.
They stirred as he sat up, their practiced smiles appearing immediately despite the early hour.
"Good morning, boss~" one of them purred, a tall woman with long black hair.
"Want to start the day with some... exercise?"
Another woman, shorter, with dyed blonde hair, pressed herself against his side.
"We could make you feel REALLY good before breakfast~"
Ào Shǔ grunted, his voice like gravel being scraped across concrete. "Nah. Not in the mood. Get out."
The women's smiles faltered slightly but didn't disappear. They were professionals. Used to rejection. Used to his moods.
"Are you sure, boss?" A third woman tried, her hand trailing down his chest. "We could—"
"I SAID GET OUT!" His voice rose, harsh and commanding.
They scrambled off the bed immediately, gathering their clothes from where they'd been discarded on the floor, and fled the bedroom without looking back.
Ào Shǔ scratched his substantial belly and belched loudly. Then he rolled out of bed, literally rolled, his short legs struggling to find the floor—and waddled toward his ensuite bathroom.
The bathroom was as gaudy as everything else in his mansion. Gold-plated fixtures. A jacuzzi tub big enough for ten people.
Mirrors covering every wall. The décor of someone with more money than taste.
He showered, shaved his patchy facial hair, and dressed in one of his expensive suits—custom-tailored to accommodate his unusual proportions, but still looking ridiculous because no amount of tailoring could make a 4'8" obese man look dignified.
In-House Casino - 11:23 AM
Ào Shǔ descended to the main floor of his mansion, which had been converted into a private casino. Slot machines. Poker tables. Roulette wheels. Blackjack. All of it rigged, of course. The house always won when outsiders played. But when Ào Shǔ played, the house always lost.
The entire staff was female, all wearing uniforms that could barely be called clothing, essentially lingerie with the casino's logo printed on it.
Short skirts.
Low-cut tops.
Heels so high they looked painful to walk in.
A group of his friends, using the term loosely, since Ào Shǔ didn't really have friends, just people who tolerated him for money and access, were already gathered around a poker table.
There was Dāo Zi, a thin man with a scarred face who dealt in weapons.
Féi Zhū, another overweight man who ran a drug operation.
Lǎo Hēi, an older gangster with connections to human trafficking.
And Xiǎo Máo, a younger thug trying to work his way up the criminal hierarchy.
"AYE! THE RAT IS UP!" Dāo Zi called out, raising a glass of expensive whiskey despite the early hour. "We thought you died up there!"
Ào Shǔ waddled over, his short legs making his gait look comical. "Fuck you. I was busy."
"Busy sleeping, you mean!" Féi Zhū laughed, his own substantial belly jiggling.
"Come on, sit! We're playing Texas Hold'em!"
Ào Shǔ climbed onto a specially-designed chair, higher than normal to accommodate his short stature—and grabbed a cigar from the table. One of the female staff immediately appeared with a lighter.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, leering at her cleavage as she leaned forward to light his cigar.
She smiled professionally and retreated.
"So!" Xiǎo Máo shuffled the cards with practiced ease. "Anyone got good stories from last night?"
Dāo Zi grinned. "I moved fifty AKs to that buyer in Guangzhou. Thirty million yuan profit. Easy money."
"FIFTY?!" Lǎo Hēi whistled. "What the fuck are they planning? A war?"
"Don't know, don't care. Money's money."
Féi Zhū leaned back, puffing his own cigar.
"I got a new cocaine shipment coming in from Colombia. Pure shit. 95% purity. Gonna cut it down to 40% and triple my profits."
"You're gonna kill your customers," Xiǎo Máo observed.
"They're junkies. They'll buy it anyway."
Ào Shǔ chuckled, a wet, phlegmy sound. "You're all small-time. I just refinanced three new properties. Fifteen million yuan in passive rental income per year. That's REAL money. Money that keeps coming without me doing shit."
"Boring!" Dāo Zi threw a poker chip at him. "Where's the excitement? The risk?"
"Risk is for idiots. I like guaranteed returns."
A waitress walked by—a young woman, maybe twenty-two, carrying a tray of drinks. Lǎo Hēi reached out and grabbed her ass as she passed.
She flinched but didn't stop walking, her professional smile frozen in place.
"Anything else I can get for you gentlemen?"
"Yeah, come sit on my lap!" Lǎo Hēi cackled.
"I'm working, sir. Perhaps later."
She escaped quickly, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
Another waitress approached, older, maybe thirty, with tired eyes. Féi Zhū grabbed her wrist as she set down drinks.
"You're new, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir. Started last week."
"You single?"
"I... I have a boyfriend, sir."
"Dump him. I'll pay you better." He squeezed her wrist harder, his smile never reaching his eyes.
She pulled away gently. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."
A third waitress—this one younger, maybe twenty—walked past. Xiǎo Máo wolf-whistled.
"Hey baby! You free tonight?"
She ignored him completely, which made him angry.
"HEY! I'm talking to you!"
"I heard you, sir. I'm busy tonight."
"Busy doing what?"
"Not you, sir." Her response was so deadpan it made Dāo Zi burst into laughter.
"OHHHHH! SHE GOT YOU!"
Xiǎo Máo's face turned red. "Fuck you, bitch. I'll get you fired."
"You're welcome to try, sir." She disappeared into the back rooms.
The poker game continued. Cards were dealt. Bets were made. Ào Shǔ won hand after hand—not because he was skilled, but because the dealer was instructed to let him win.
After an hour, he'd accumulated a massive pile of chips.
"I'm gonna hit the slots!" he announced, climbing down from his chair.
He waddled over to a particular slot machine, his "lucky" one, which was rigged to pay out whenever he played it.
He inserted a chip worth 1,000 yuan and pulled the lever.
The reels spun. Symbols blurred past. Then—
DING DING DING DING DING!
JACKPOT.
Seven million yuan. The machine started flashing, alarms blaring, fake coins pouring out of the dispenser in a theatrical display.
"YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Ào Shǔ screamed, pumping his short arms in the air.
His friends rushed over, cheering and congratulating him despite knowing it was rigged.
"SEVEN MILLION! YOU LUCKY BASTARD!"
"DRINKS ON THE RAT TONIGHT!"
Ào Shǔ pulled out a small bag of white powder from his jacket pocket—cocaine, high purity—and dumped a generous line onto the slot machine's surface.
He snorted it directly, not bothering with a rolled bill or straw, his nose pressed against the metal.
His head snapped back, eyes dilating, a manic grin spreading across his face.
"WHOOOOO! FUCK YEAH!"
The Party - 2:34 PM
What started as casual gambling devolved into a full-blown party. More people arrived—other gangsters, associates, hangers-on, women hired specifically for entertainment.
Music blasted from expensive speakers. Alcohol flowed freely. Drugs were consumed openly.
Ào Shǔ terrorized his female staff with drunken glee.
He cornered one waitress near the bar, pressing his substantial bulk against her despite the height difference.
"You're pretty," he slurred, his breath reeking of cigars and whiskey. "Why don't you come upstairs with me?"
"I'm working, sir."
"I OWN this place! You work when I SAY you work!" His hand groped at her waist.
She pushed him away—gently but firmly. "Please don't touch me, sir."
"Or WHAT?!" His face turned red with alcohol-fueled rage. "I'll fire you! I'll ruin you! Nobody says no to me!"
One of his security guards intervened, pulling Ào Shǔ away. "Boss, come on. Let's get you another drink."
Ào Shǔ allowed himself to be led away, already forgetting the interaction.
He found another woman—a dancer performing on a small stage. He climbed up onto the stage, his short legs barely making it, and started dancing behind her, grinding against her in a grotesque parody of sensuality.
The crowd cheered—whether genuinely or mockingly was unclear.
The dancer endured it professionally, her smile never faltering despite obvious discomfort.
More cocaine. More alcohol. More groping. More harassment.
The party raged for hours, becoming increasingly debauch and chaotic.
Private Smoking Room - 11:47 PM
Eventually, the crowd thinned. People passed out or left. The music was turned down to a dull background noise.
Ào Shǔ found himself in a private smoking room, a small, luxurious space with leather chairs and ventilation systems designed to handle cigar and marijuana smoke.
He was alone except for Jīn Chán, his gambling buddy, one of the few people he actually trusted.
Jīn Chán was lighting a joint, the marijuana smell filling the room immediately.
"Long day," Jīn Chán said, passing the joint to Ào Shǔ.
"Every day's a long day when you're this successful." Ào Shǔ took a deep hit, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth.
Then Ào Shǔ spoke, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than usual. "You know... you're the only person here I actually trust."
Jīn Chán looked at him, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Everyone else? They're here for money. For access. For what I can give them. But you? You've been with me since the beginning. Before all this." He gestured vaguely at the mansion around them.
"We've been through a lot together," Jīn Chán agreed.
"I just... sometimes I wonder if it's worth it, you know? All this money. All this power. But I'm still alone. Still... empty."
Jīn Chán took another hit from the joint. "That's the price of success. Isolation."
"I don't even know who I can trust anymore. Except you. You're the only one who's never betrayed me. Never asked for more than what you earned. Never tried to stab me in the back."
Jīn Chán smiled sadly. "It's been nice knowing you."
Ào Shǔ's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean it's been—"
BANG.
The gunshot was loud even through the soundproofed room. The bullet entered Ào Shǔ's chest, puncturing his heart, killing him almost instantly.
He slumped in his chair, blood spreading across his expensive suit, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal.
Jīn Chán stood up, gun still smoking in his hand, his expression neutral.
"Nothing personal," he said to the corpse. "Just business."