Song Yanyan's POV:
I jolted awake at 4am, fired up and ready to go. This was Day One of Operation: Ditch This Body. No way was I staying stuck in Song Yanyan's overweight form a second longer than necessary.
Look, I'm all about body positivity and self-love. But if I wanted to make it big for this chick in China's cut-throat entertainment world, losing major poundage was non-negotiable. Back in my 'hood, talents of every size and shape could get famous - just look at my queen Lizzo or Rebel Wilson slaying despite being thicker. I lived for their confidence.
But this wasn't the streets of Chicago or any state of America anymore. I was navigating bougie Chinese high society now, where the standard of beauty was straight-up smalls - petite, delicate figures celebrated above all else. An uphill battle if I'd ever seen one for a sister packing this much cake.
Slipping out in the pre-dawn quiet, I hit the dimly-lit street for my new crack-of-dawn routine. My lungs were already burning from the unaccustomed workout just a few blocks in. But I kept pushing through the fire, feet pounding the pavement with purpose. Failure was not an option.
I ran until I hit the massive park area. Pausing to catch my breath, I transitioned into a full-body stretch sesh, determined to start reshaping this body through any means necessary.
Two hours later, I was drenched in sweat but riding an endorphin high as I raced back to the estate, the sunrise's first hint of light peeking over the horizon. Timing was crucial - no way did I want anyone clocking my secret training just yet.
These rich folk seemed to typically roll out of their silk sheets around 7am to be pampered with some lavish breakfast spread. If I made it back by 6:30, I'd have just enough time to shower off the evidence before anyone suspected a thing.
Slipping back inside, I hustled up to my bathroom, quickly rinsing away the sweat and grime from my skin under a scalding spray. Despite my sluggish motions, I wrapped up with fifteen minutes to spare before the household started stirring.
Towelling off, I caught a glimpse of my flushed, fatigued reflection. My first baby step on this long road was done - but it was just the start of an uphill battle to execute my ambitions here.
Nodding at my newly fired-up mirror self, I felt that unbreakable determination solidifying in my core. This wasn't some fragile flower they could trample on. This body was about to be forged like steel in the fires of sheer, unbridled willpower.
A few rogue beads of perspiration still clung to my skin as I flopped down to hit the books for school, the open texts mere background noise compared to the defiant inferno now roaring in my spirit.
Let the games begin, elite snobs. The new Song Yanyan was rising - and she wasn't here to play nice.
I descended the grand staircase, stomach rumbling in anticipation of the usual lavish breakfast spread. But as soon as I entered the dining room, that familiar sinking feeling resurfaced. The entire parasite family was already assembled, simpering over their plates like rodents feasting on opulence.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," Song Yangyao sneered as I took my seat, disdain dripping from her perfectly made-up face. "I was beginning to think you'd slept yourself into the next century with that lardo bod."
Before I could retort, Uncle Jackass chimed in with a nasal bray of laughter. "More like the staff had to grease the door frame just to get Tub-Tub's mass through!"
His odious offspring, the grotesque horse-human hybrid Song Fangfang, immediately kicked her braying into high gear beside him. "Om-nom-nom, piggy piggy! Surprised you can even waddle after demolishing the entire trough!"
I felt a muscle twitch in my jaw as flop-sweat started beading on my brow. These delusional roaches were really feeling themselves over some bottom-tier insults? Oh, it was on now.
"At least I have the dignity to avoid open troughing unlike some trick-eating swine at this table," I countered, letting my dull gaze lazily roll over to Song Fangfang. "Though I guess when your genetic makeup is 60% Wilbur, overstuffed cud-chewing is a reasonable coping mechanism for that horror."
Fangfang's bulbous eyes widened in stunned outrage, like a dumb mule that just got bitch-slapped by the riding crop. Beside her, Donkey Song Dong's face flushed beet red with spluttering indignation as Uncle Jackass looked ready to combust from barely suppressed rage.
But I wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. Pivoting to Auntie Skank and her dated, haggard styling, I felt the demon inside me getting good and warmed up.
"And you, hon, have got to be suffering from some sad body dysmorphia thinking that decrepit Crypt Keeper bargain bin couture is doing you any favours," I continued, acid dripping from every syllable as I raked her shrivelled form over with undisguised disdain. "Like, were the mom jeans worn by literal foot-binding victims just too on-trend for your albatross tastes or--?"
I never got to finish that deliciously vicious barb. Because right on cue, my grease trap of a mother suddenly swept in like the Glamazon Godzilla she's always fancied herself. Except her beady eyes weren't fixed on me. Oh no, she was actually levelling a glare of unadulterated malice at the whole simpering poltergeist crew leaving them recoiling in open terror.
"ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE!" Chen Xinyi howled like an enraged dragon. "NOT ANOTHER WORD OUT OF ANY OF YOUR FILTHY INGRATE MOUTHS OR SO HELP ME--!"
We all froze as the shrill wheeze of her banshee shriek echoed around the chamber. Slowly, the hazy cloud of her fury dissipated to reveal her favourite target still locked in her crosshairs - yours truly.
"You...disgusting, bloated sow," she hissed with unrestrained venom, spittle flying in her rage. "Don't think your despicable behavior goes unnoticed just because these miserable fools can't keep their rotten traps shut!"
Chest heaving with indignation, I opened my mouth to defend myself only to be engulfed by the scalding eruption of her tirade.
"No, you worthless waste of flesh! You will sit there and STUFF THAT GAPING MAWLIKE THE REPULSIVE GLUTTON YOU ARE!" She punctuated this by violently seizing a nearby crystal tumbler of orange juice and hurling it across the table.
It struck the porcelain in front of me with a resounding crack, splattering sticky droplets across my shocked features as the glass slowly rolled to a stop, leaving an oozing trail of pulp in its wake. Mother's chest was heaving like a bellows as I finally found my voice again.
"...You senile, decrepit old harpy," I growled, leveling my coldest, most chilling glare at her quivering form. "Consider that juice your last warning shot before I open the floodgates of fiery fucking Armageddon on your worm-ridden family of reanimated shamblers."
Without another word, I snatched up the rolling tumbler and defiantly drained its remaining contents, maintaining unflinching eye contact with the stunned crone the entire time. Then, with a flourish, I hurled the empty glass aside, letting it shatter in a brilliant spray of crystalline fragments before shouldering my way out of the dining room, leaving chaos and terror in my wake.
A stunned silence hung heavy in the dining room after my dramatic exit. The once raucous ensemble of tormentors seemed utterly shell-shocked, frozen in place like petrified corpses.
I could practically taste the potent miasma of shock and terror wafting off them in waves. Good - the depraved vermin were finally getting their first tantalizing glimpse of the unrestrained demon they'd awoken.
With those chilling words, I stepped out into the crisp morning air, adjusting my uniform and preparing to brave the chaos that would undoubtedly await at school.
One thing was indisputably clear after today's eruptions - the reckoning foretold had been irreversibly set into irrepressible motion. The real war was only just beginning.
And I was done playing by anyone else's rules but my own.