After Transmigrating as Cannon Fodder, I Became the Darling of the Variety Show - Chapter 14

Fourteenth Day of Wanting a Divorce.

Chu Guannan looked down at An Rao coldly, his eyes as dark as an abyss.

“There is some money inside. Use it to pay off your father’s debts.”

After a long silence, he added in a low voice: “The password is your birthday.”

An Rao was stunned. He slowly sat up, looking at the bank card in his hand and then back at Chu Guannan. The key point was not just the card given to pay the debt, but the fact that the password was his birthday.

Chu Guannan said nothing more. He walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

An Rao downloaded the bank’s application. After entering the card details, he fell into deep thought at the password prompt. Was it his own birthday or the original owner’s birthday? With a “try and see” attitude, he entered his actual birthday.

The application successfully logged into the home page.

• • Balance: 20,000,000 yuan

• • Account Holder: Chu Guannan

• • Account Opening Date: August 4, 2022

It was a new account opened on the day Chu Guannan took him to buy clothes.

An Rao’s hands trembled slightly. His biological father was indeed a minor millionaire, but the money available for him to spend had never exceeded 500,000 yuan. He had never seen this much money before. With this sum, he could shake off the original owner’s bloodsucking father, ignore the ridicule of his anti-fans, and stop acting obedient in front of Chu Guannan. He could freely pursue his own dreams, travel the world, or buy an RV to explore the country.

But.

An Rao gripped the bank card tightly, his brow furrowed. After a while, he shouted toward the kitchen: “You earn so much every year and you only give me twenty million? You are so stingy! I do not want it!”

With that, he slapped the card onto the coffee table, put on a baseball cap, and walked out the door.

An Rao went to a gazebo in a park. He pulled up the text messages from the unknown numbers and dialed one back. The person on the other end seemed to be waiting by the phone; it was answered after a single ring.

“Is this Rao Rao? You finally called me.” The voice was old and hoarse, yet it could not hide the joy in its tone.

An Rao was in no mood for a reunion. To him, this man was a stranger he had never even met. He went straight to the point. “Where are you? Come out and meet me.”

The man asked cautiously: “Are you with any debt collectors?”

An Rao took a deep breath. “No. I will wait for you at the Navy Park in the city center.”

As the night grew darker, a thin, hunched figure appeared at the park entrance, looking around nervously. An Rao had waited for over an hour. This man only dared to show his face after dark, clearly terrified of his creditors.

“Rao Rao, it has been a long time.” The figure’s voice was thick with emotion.

An Rao looked him over. He was an ordinary middle-aged man wearing a dirty factory jacket, old sneakers, and pants worn white at the knees. His thin face was full of hardship, making him look like a street scavenger. He sat down cautiously beside An Rao, his gaze fixed on An Rao’s face.

“Rao Rao, Daddy missed you.” The man reached out as if to hug his son, but his hand stopped mid-air and slowly pulled back.

Seeing that An Rao remained silent, the man sighed and gave a bitter smile. “Daddy knows I have failed you. I caused you to be dragged into this and insulted by so many people online.”

An Rao did not want to hear this. If he knew the consequences, why do it in the first place? The most unforgivable thing in the world is committing a wrong while knowing it is wrong.

“You knew you were failing me, yet you still went to gamble?” An Rao gave a cold laugh, his gaze landing on a beautiful lotus in the pond.

The man lowered his head in panic and apologized repeatedly.

An Rao held out his hand. “Give me all your IOUs.”

The man was stunned. He quickly said: “Forget it, Rao Rao. I have realized that it is only right to pay what I owe. You do not need to worry about this. At worst, I will give them my life.”

“What use is your life to them? Give me the IOUs. All of them.”

The man swallowed. After a long pause, he tremblingly pulled a thick stack of papers from his pocket and handed them over. An Rao counted them. There were twelve in total, adding up to 3.5 million yuan.

He frowned. “Is that all?”

“That is all.” The man spoke carefully, not daring to look at his son’s expression.

“Was it not supposed to be twelve million in total?”

“The principal is 3.5 million. The interest is 8.5 million,” the man murmured.

An Rao could not help but gasp. A chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Seven percent interest; that was forty percentage points higher than the bank. Was the person who signed such a loan a fool?

“I hope this is the last time. Think about how much your family has suffered for you.” An Rao pocketed the IOUs and left the park. In the darkness, the disheveled man watched his son’s departure for a long time before suddenly covering his face with his hands, his body trembling uncontrollably.

When he returned home, the aroma of food filled the house. An Rao took off his hat and walked to the dining table. There were four dishes, a soup, and a glass of fresh pear juice. He sat down and silently ate every bite. Then, he took out the stack of IOUs to examine them one by one.

He discovered that all the lenders were linked to a nightclub called Jin Zhehui. An Rao searched for the club online. Its parent company, Shuangmu Group, was a venture capital firm owned by a man named Lin Changming. Lin Changming also owned the Changshi Group in Myanmar, which focused on the entertainment industry.

Opening an entertainment company in Myanmar usually suggested gambling industries that were not restricted by local laws. An Rao could not think of any other “entertainment” that would flourish there. Meanwhile, Shuangmu Group had invested in many films, television dramas, and art galleries over the past two years.

However, their biggest investment remained the Jin Zhehui nightclub. This club was extremely famous in celebrity circles for its high costs and high standards. Almost everyone, from low-tier idols to top stars, frequented the place.

An Rao tapped his fingers thoughtfully. Eventually, he found the club’s number online and booked a private room. He went to the second floor bedroom and saw that Chu Guannan was already asleep. The bank card he had left on the coffee table had been moved and placed next to his computer.

Gazing at the card, An Rao picked it up and gave it a light kiss. “I am borrowing this. I will pay you back soon.”

He put on a hat and a mask, then took a taxi to Jin Zhehui. The nightclub was very hidden. One had to enter through an underground parking lot, find a small elevator door, and go down to the second basement level to find the entrance.

As soon as he entered, a row of bunny girls in revealing outfits stood in a line and bowed.

“Good evening, guest. Welcome to the Angel’s Habitat. Jin Zhehui welcomes you.”

An Rao pulled his cap lower and said in a muffled voice: “I booked a private room.”

A man in a suit immediately approached and led him toward the back, glancing at him occasionally. “You look very familiar, sir. Have you been to our establishment before?”

An Rao said nothing.

“You are an artist, right? Your aura is quite unique. We often have artists coming here to play,” the man in the suit continued to chatter.

An Rao remained silent.

“What would you like to play tonight? If it is karaoke, we have many companions to sing and play with you. You can choose one you like to spend a beautiful night with.”

An Rao finally interrupted him, laughing softly. “If I wanted to sing, why would I not just go to any KTV?”

The man in the suit was taken aback, then laughed with understanding. “I see. Please follow me this way.”

The man led An Rao into a very small room. He pressed a switch, and the mural in the room instantly slid open to both sides. Behind it was a dark, narrow corridor ending at a large, maroon fabric door guarded by two large men. After a brief whispered exchange, the men nodded and pushed the door open.

“This way, guest.”

When the door opened, a thick smell of smoke hit him. It was stifling even through his mask. An Rao adjusted his mask and pulled his cap lower. His fingers quietly found his phone and pressed the “Share” button.

The world inside was entirely different. Amidst the swirling smoke, about a hundred people were gathered. Tables of various shapes were placed in different areas. In the center was a large round table where four men sat, each at a different position, with playing cards and colorful chips in front of them.

As expected, Jin Zhehui used the name of a nightclub to hide an illegal underground casino. The man in the suit followed respectfully. “What would you like to play? Mahjong, Pai Gow, or Show Hand?”

An Rao said in a low voice: “Mahjong.”

The man in the suit immediately whispered to a nearby waiter. The waiter nodded, glanced at An Rao, and left. An Rao sat at a Mahjong table, followed by three men in various outfits.

The man in the suit bowed and smiled. “First, I must explain the rules. Before we begin, everyone must hand over all electronic devices. No photography is allowed. Second, no violent destruction of the facilities is permitted. Finally, the chips at our establishment are fixed at 200,000 per hand, and the dealer’s stake is doubled. If you understand the rules, please sign this agreement.”

Four papers were placed before them. The other three signed without hesitation. Only An Rao hesitated for a moment before signing his name. He took out his phone, gave a meaningful smile, and handed it to the man in the suit.

After exchanging for chips, the first hand began. The man opposite was the dealer. He seemed to have great luck, winning on the very first draw. According to the rules, the other three each had to give him 400,000.

As the Mahjong machine shuffled the tiles, An Rao placed his hands on the table, feeling the vibrations beneath. This hand was An Rao’s turn to be the dealer. Similarly, if he won, the others would give him 400,000 each; if he lost, he would owe them 400,000 each.

An Rao had never actually played Mahjong, but he knew the winning formulas and basic rules. Even though he was unfamiliar with the game, he could tell the hand he currently held was abysmal, with almost no chance of winning. However, he did not play by the book. He broke up several seemingly connected sets and managed to turn the tide. Now, he only needed a Nine of Bamboo or a Six of Bamboo to win.

He looked at the discarded tiles on the table and calculated what suits the other three were waiting for. He had an extra One of Bamboo. The person to his right was waiting for dots, the person opposite for characters, and the person to his left for dots. This meant if he discarded the One of Bamboo, he would definitely be safe. Without hesitation, he slapped the tile onto the table.

“Win!” the three men opposite shouted in unison.

A single discard leading to three winners? Was this a joke? An Rao looked at their tiles; they were indeed all waiting for the One of Bamboo. This meant he had lost 1.2 million in a single hand.

His gaze swept across their revealed tiles and landed on the discarded pile in the center of the table. The man opposite had three Nine of Dots in his hand, there was one Nine of Dots in the discard pile, and An Rao had one Nine of Dots in his own hand. Were there five Nine of Dots in a single Mahjong set? Moreover, they had ignored a chance to “Kong” just to keep that Nine of Dots.

An Rao gave a cold laugh and quietly pressed down the Nine of Dots in his own hand.

“Pay up! Pay up!” the three men shouted impatiently, their faces blooming with greedy smiles.

An Rao gripped his few remaining chips, his face darkening. Seeing An Rao’s hesitation, the man in the suit assumed he was out of money and leaned in, whispering in his ear:

“Guest, if you do not have enough funds on you, we have staff here who specialize in loans. Should I call them over for you?”

An Rao nodded. “Call them.”

The loan staff handed over a promissory note. It clearly stated an interest rate of thirty percent of the principal, with the amount doubling if it exceeded one year. Thirty percent interest might not sound like much at first; three dollars for every ten. But the trap was in the “doubling after one year” clause. This meant the second year would be sixty percent, and the third year ninety. Truly, only a fool would sign it.

An Rao thought of that man in the tattered clothes. Seeing An Rao’s delay, the man in the suit enticed him. “I can see you are a star. Stars make money quickly; a few million is just a drop in the bucket for you.”

An Rao smiled and picked up the pen. Just as the tip touched the paper.

The door behind them burst open with a loud bang.

“Run! The police are here!” A waiter stumbled in, sliding across the floor into the crowd.

The people present immediately abandoned their money and scrambled to their feet, rushing out of the casino like a swarm of hornets. The man in the suit ran around in a panic before his gaze landed on the window. He jumped onto the sill to pull the curtains down, trying to cover the gambling table.

But it was too late.

A group of police officers burst through the door, shouting at the gamblers who had not yet escaped: “Do not move! Put your hands behind your heads and squat in the corner!”

The man in the suit tremblingly squatted in the corner, cursing whichever “bastard” had called the police.

An Rao smiled. Amidst the chaos, he found his phone and turned it on. The screen showed the location sharing he had initiated an hour ago; with the police.