Zhao Chenyang stood on the dusty northern Myanmar border, squinting slightly as the scorching sunlight pierced his eyes. Everything around him was unfamiliar and oppressive; the low buildings resembled cages shrouded in shadows, with the sharp barbs of barbed wire glinting with a harsh metallic sheen. He knew there was no way back for him now.

Several tall guards were pushing a group of newcomers, and Zhao Chenyang was forced to join them. His heart pounded violently in his chest, and scenes of bidding farewell to his mother at home flashed through his mind. "Come back soon, son, and don't cause trouble," she had said, smiling with gentleness and hope in her eyes. But reality felt like a nightmare, and his body was now inside this hellish scam compound. The air was hot and humid, filled with an unpleasant stench—a mixture of rot and dampness.

"I should never have come here..." Zhao Chenyang swallowed hard, his gaze wandering. His stomach churned as he recalled his friend's persuasion and the promise of a high salary that had led him here. All he could think about now were images of home—his mother gently patting his shoulder, his father's silent but deeply hidden worry.

He was led into a makeshift dormitory. The room was cramped, with a rusty bed that had only a worn-out thin blanket on it. The air smelled of decay, and the walls of the dormitory were covered in mold, with cracks that seemed to swallow all light. Around him were some weary figures, their eyes empty, their expressions vacant as if they had long given up resisting. Looking at these strangers, Zhao Chenyang felt a growing unease.

A few guards began distributing what they called "dinner"—a few chunks of something resembling pig slop thrown into a basin, emitting a foul stench. Zhao Chenyang stared down at the porridge in his bowl, its thick grains floating on a layer of greasy residue, exuding a nauseating smell. He picked up a spoon, his hand trembling slightly.

He could hardly suppress his revulsion. The meals at home, his mother's smile—these images kept coming to his mind, making everything before him seem terrifying and unreal.

Leaning weakly against the wall, the man beside him muttered under his breath, "Don't even think about escaping; this place isn’t somewhere you can get out of..." Zhao Chenyang looked at him—his face was covered in dust, his clothes torn, and his eyes were filled with fatigue and numbness.

"This place is hell," said another captive softly. "They'll beat you until you can't walk, and they'll do worse if you disobey..."

Zhao Chenyang felt his heart pounding, but he knew this wasn't the scariest part. He felt a deep sense of despair, like an invisible net silently spreading above him.

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On the third day after Zhao Chenyang entered the scam compound, the weather was still sweltering, the air feeling as though it had solidified, making it hard to breathe. He was assigned to move supplies—mostly mundane tools and crates. Following the group at the back, carrying a heavy box, his body felt weak. But more than the physical exhaustion, it was the psychological pressure that was unbearable.

Cameras were installed at every corner of the compound, the dark lenses watching everyone coldly, like invisible shackles. Zhao Chenyang's heart raced, his unease growing. As he passed a hidden corner where a warehouse stood, he heard a few muffled voices inside.

"The goods are ready; they must go out tonight. Don't let anyone find out."

Out of curiosity, Zhao Chenyang glanced at the warehouse and noticed the iron door was slightly ajar. Lowering himself, he approached quietly. Sweat gathered in his palms as he pressed his ear against the door.

"The organs are in good condition, especially the hearts... They'll fetch a good price."

The words exploded in Zhao Chenyang's ears like thunder. He held his breath, feeling like he was rooted to the spot. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. To confirm his suspicion, he slowly pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside.

Under dim lighting, several people were busy by a refrigerated box. The lid was half open, revealing frozen organs. Zhao Chenyang's breath quickened, his eyes fixed on the box—a pale finger protruded from it, as if reaching out from the darkness, trying to grasp something. He felt his stomach churn, barely managing not to vomit.

"Why did I come here? What kind of monsters are these people?" His scalp tingled, unable to believe such cruel things existed in this world. The telecom fraud was just the surface—there were deeper horrors hidden beneath. This place... was truly a living hell.

Zhao Chenyang wanted to run, but his feet felt nailed to the ground. He barely managed to step back, afraid of being discovered. Just as he turned to leave, a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. He almost screamed, turning sharply.

A tall, thin man stood behind him, his face showing a cold and guarded expression. It was Ah Hua—someone Zhao Chenyang had seen a few times around the compound but had never expected to meet here.

"Don't make a sound," Ah Hua whispered, motioning for Zhao Chenyang to follow him. Still in shock, Zhao Chenyang nodded mechanically, following Ah Hua away from the warehouse.

The two circled around a few buildings and finally stopped behind an abandoned shed. Ah Hua looked around to make sure they weren't followed before speaking in a low voice. "You shouldn't have seen that," he said, his voice both warning and resigned.

"What... what was that?" Zhao Chenyang's voice trembled. "They're trafficking human organs?"

Ah Hua's eyes grew cold, then he nodded. "Yes. This place isn't just a scam den—it's an organ trafficking black market. Those who disobey... they’re stripped of their organs alive and sold."

Zhao Chenyang shivered all over. He dared not imagine how those people were handled; this place was far more evil and terrifying than he had imagined.

"You'd better stop wandering around," Ah Hua warned. "If they find out you know about this, the consequences will be unimaginable."

Images of the frozen corpses and the limp finger he had just seen flashed through Zhao Chenyang's mind. He couldn't suppress the fear welling up inside him—this place was truly a living hell. He suddenly realized that if he didn't find a way to escape soon, he might never see the outside world again.