The Cambodian government is learning, the hard way, that reputations do not collapse only because of what happens on the ground. They also collapse because of what people can imagine, and what films like the Chinese No More Bets make instantly legible: a Southeast Asian “fraud farm” landscape where foreign workers are trapped behind casino facades. The film’s ambiguity, with vague references to Cambodia, Myanmar, Thailand, was precisely the problem for Cambodian officials and social media users: it treated the region as interchangeable terrain for organized cybercrime, and Cambodia as the default backdrop. The government’s preferred rebuttal is familiar and strategically convenient, asserting that the infamous compounds are “transnational,” run by foreigners, staffed by non-Cambodians, and fed by recruitment pipelines that begin in victims’ home countries, not Ca,bodia. The arrest of Fujian-born tycoon Chen Zhi is presented as proof of this supposedly systemic invasion of foreign criminals. In videos from raids, those fleeing the compounds are overwhelmingly foreign; in official statements, Cambodia is framed as an unfortunate victim, not the state responsible for such lawlessness. Yet the government’s defense can also serve as proof of guilt and culpability, showing how vast networks of scale were able to operate openly inside the country, embedded in real estate development and casino expansion, without meaningful friction until the Chinese government’s international pressure made inaction more costly. Chen’s personal story sharpens the contradiction between the official government statements and reality. He built his fortune in Cambodia, became a citizen, cultivated elite access and influence through patronage and philanthropy, and helped reengineer Sihanoukville into a casino boom town, exactly the kind of transformation that invites cash, secrecy, and impunity in equal measure. The allegations around Prince Group and its affiliates, in human trafficking, cyberfraud, online casinos, and social-media scams targeting victims back in China, shift the “transnational” label into something far more uncomfortable. These scam compounds were not floating threats passing through, but rather entire ecosystems that benefited from local permissiveness, legal loopholes, and the political advantages of not asking too many questions about who was building what, with who’s money, and for whom. What makes the case especially corrosive is how quickly it has spread beyond Cambodia’s borders and into the architecture of global finance and enforcement. Offshore shell-company webs, luxury assets, and the laundering of proceeds into international markets have shown that the scam compounds were the visible edge of a much larger machinery, one that took place in Singapore, the Cayman Islands, Dubai, London, and, ultimately, Western countries that publicly critiqued the scam compounds. China’s concerns, mainly related to famous missing citizens, embarrassment, and the suggestion that criminality is “counter to traditional friendship” underscore yet another reality: Cambodia’s image is increasingly hostage to the priorities of bigger states, and “friendship” becomes leverage when domestic enforcement cannot plausibly police the problem alone. The final and most damning govenrment statement, (that of an anti-trafficking official saying Cambodia still doesn’t understand why traffickers choose the country), lcan be interpreted as either denial or despair. However, the response is not at all mysterious. As long as Cambodia has permissive and relatively porous borders, lucrative grey industries, rapid-build development zones, weak oversight, and a political economy that rewards growth optics over scrutiny, widespread criminality will only prosper, . Unless Cambodia can make enforcement credible before Beijing demands it, and unless it confronts the enabling structures, such as real estate, casinos, shell finance, protection networks, its “image problem” will remain less a branding crisis than a security diagnosis. And in a world where cybercrime scales faster than regulation, the next wave won’t need a movie to convince people where it thrives.