To say this place is a grim hell on earth is no exaggeration.
Even though this is just a mass grave behind the park, anyone with a sense of normalcy would break down at the sight.
The bodies of men, women, and children dumped here are mostly naked, often missing limbs or other parts. The women suffer even more horrific fates, with certain unmentionable parts removed and used for the captors' vile pleasures. Their death states are unimaginably gruesome.
Some bodies, stripped of organs or used as blood donors, still appear somewhat whole. However, they are pale, emaciated, and have bulging eyes, creating a haunting image that one can never forget.
A flock of vultures pecks at the rotting corpses, which are crawling with maggots and rats, emitting a strong stench of decay. Some freshly dumped bodies have not yet decomposed and are being gnawed at by rats the size of cats.
"Ugh!"
I couldn't hold it in anymore and retched on the spot. Looking down, I realized I had stepped on a pile of bones, which startled me into a sprint.
"You coward! Get back here and bury these bodies, or you'll be buried instead!"
Brother Meng shouted at me from a distance, aiming his AK at me.
The giant rats were unfazed by our presence, continuing to feast on the corpses.
"What are you standing there for? Start digging!"
Brother Meng kept his distance, wary of the stench, knowing that as long as he had a gun, he could control us.
"Little Bottle! Hurry up and dig!"
Uncle Scar grabbed me, shoved a hoe into my hand, and started dragging the bodies over to a pile of bones.
There were shallow pits here; we only needed to dig a bit deeper. But my hands and feet were shaking uncontrollably, and besides, I'd never dug a grave before.
"My parents never treated me poorly, but this place is hell on earth," I mumbled, unable to hold back my tears as I squatted down to cry.
"Uncle, this is inhumane! I can't take it!"
Uncle Scar sighed and continued digging in silence.
"I just want to go home! I miss my mom!"
I wept, fearing that my loud cries would attract Brother Meng's wrath. Witnessing those men being tortured to death had shattered me. Coming to this mass grave pushed me over the edge.
"Eventually, you get used to it. These overseers were once like us, but once they gained power, they became sadists. Rest a bit and compose yourself before Sister Yu sees you like this. I've dug graves four or five times here already..."
Uncle Scar rambled on about his past and the horrors he had witnessed. He was trying to keep talking, afraid of the silence. Once, he had encountered a man who wasn't fully dead when buried. The man spoke, pleading for help, and it scared Uncle Scar so much that he didn't eat for three days.
By the time my tears had subsided and my eyes were swollen, he had finished digging two pits and buried the bodies.
"Look at that electric fence. It's low, right? People have tried escaping over it, but they got lost in the forest and were caught and tortured to death."
"Isn't there any successful escape?"
"Rarely, very rarely. Maybe one in a million. It's tough, really tough."
Uncle Scar placed the hoe on the cart and sighed. "Little Bottle, if I die trying to escape, make sure to tell my family what happened."
"Uncle, don't talk like that. We'll make it out alive," I said, wiping my tears, trying to remain hopeful.
"Let's go! Staying here any longer will drive us mad!"
He pushed the cart down the slope, his expression somber.
I stayed silent, helping him push the cart. The back hill's electric fence was lower than the one around the park, but no one had successfully escaped from here. The lack of dense forest made it easy for escapees to be spotted and killed before reaching safety.
Only a few managed to flee through the forest and return home, but their stories gave hope to others, inspiring occasional escape attempts that often ended in brutal executions as warnings.
When we returned to the park, we saw a new couple had joined our department. They were about 25 years old, both former white-collar workers and college classmates. They had been captured while on a group tour in Yunnan for the girl's birthday.
Many new travel agencies and other companies in border cities like Yunnan operate under legitimate facades while secretly sending people to northern Myanmar. They pretend to function normally, paying salaries and organizing trips, but in reality, they gather personal information meticulously. After a few months, they lure employees on "team-building trips" to Thailand or Malaysia, then transfer them here during transit.
Even if Chinese authorities investigate, they find nothing because the kidnappers work in separate groups. The shell companies continue recruiting, sometimes targeting high-achieving recent graduates, who often become tools for making money until they die.
A moderately attractive girl can generate millions in revenue in just a couple of weeks. Virgins are even more valuable. After traffickers post their details online, buyers pay in advance, and a "seven-day train ride" event is organized, during which many girls perish.
Couples or spouses brought here suffer unimaginable fates. The women are taken to a dark room and repeatedly violated, while the men are bound and forced to watch. If they refuse, the women are tortured until they comply. Men who react are further humiliated with rubber bands or electric prods.
This method breaks women's will to rely on men and shatters the men's spirits, ensuring complete submission.
Success stories like Fei Fei's, who returned home after her family paid over a million yuan and negotiated with the embassy, are rare. Most families can't quickly gather such sums or navigate diplomatic channels.
I couldn't shake the anger over Chen Weiqiang swindling my father out of 800,000 yuan. Imagining their plight back home tore at my heart.