The heart of the city under the night sky.
Tall buildings stand, neon lights flicker, like a flowing galaxy.
Amidst this, the top-floor office of a certain office building remains brightly lit.
It seems there are still people busy with work.
On the mirror-like marble floor lies a soft, thick woolen carpet.
On the wide mahogany desk sits a pure gold dragon-shaped ashtray.
Under the illumination of the crystal chandelier, it gives off a vulgar, ostentatious vibe.
On the wall behind the desk hangs a refined reproduction of "Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains".
The room's owner subtly reveals grand ambitions hidden within the ostentatious decor.
Xiao Shuai's hands are tied behind him with hemp rope, kneeling awkwardly in the corner.
His once fairly handsome face is bruised and swollen, eyes puffy, lips cracked, with still-drying blood.
Clearly, he has taken quite a beating since being brought here.
