A First Glimpse of the Compound
The rough hemp rope dug deep into the flesh of my wrists and ankles, bringing a burning stinging pain and a numb feeling of poor blood circulation. The black hood reeked of a mixture of sweat, oil, and unknown chemicals, completely blocking out all light and plunging me into a terrifying darkness and suffocation.
All that could be heard were heavy breathing, suppressed sobs, and the dull rumble and creaking of vehicles driving on the bumpy road.
K's hands were tied behind his back, and like all the other illegal immigrants who had been captured, he was crammed into what appeared to be a closed truck like cargo. The truck floor was cold and hard, and with each bump, his body was uncontrollably bumping against each other or slamming against the cold walls.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of fear and blood—the smell of the two young men whose toes had been cut off. Their intermittent groans of pain echoed through the carriage, adding to the sense of despair.
The vehicle traveled for a long time, long enough to completely lose track of time and direction. Only occasional turns and changes in the degree of bumps indicated that the road had transitioned from wilderness into an environment that resembled the interior of a building or a smooth road surface.
Finally, after a series of sharp brakes and a violent swaying of the vehicle, it came to a stop.
The rear door of the carriage was yanked open with a loud bang, and the blinding light could be faintly felt even through the thick hood. Rough shouts and shoving followed immediately:
"Get up! All of you, get the fuck off here!"
"Hurry up! What are you dawdling for!"
K was shoved hard from behind, staggering off the car and landing on the hard, flat cement ground. There seemed to be many people around; he could hear chaotic footsteps and even more shouts. He and his companions were like lambs to the slaughter, being pushed and shoved, stumbling forward. After crossing a threshold and turning a corner, the air became stuffy, and the echoes were distinct, as if they had entered the interior of a building.
Ultimately, they were ordered to stop.
The hood was roughly ripped off, and the sudden light made everyone squint, taking a while to adjust.
They were in a spacious room resembling a warehouse or large garage. The walls were rough cement plaster, and several rows of stark white fluorescent tubes hung from the ceiling, illuminating the entire space as bright as day, yet devoid of warmth. Dust and a faint musty smell filled the air. A dozen or so thugs, armed with sticks or stun guns, stood around them, coldly watching them.
Brother Kun — Li Kun —stood not far in front of the crowd, hands behind his back, his face bearing that signature, insincere smile. He had changed into a slightly more formal shirt and trousers, but the gold chain around his neck was still dazzling.
"Untie them." Brother Kun waved his hand casually.
Several thugs immediately stepped forward and used daggers to cut the ropes binding the men's hands and feet. The cold blades grazed their skin, sending shivers down their spines. Their arms and legs, now free, were numb and tingling from being bound for so long. Many men staggered, trying to move their limbs, their faces still showing signs of shock.
"Alright, everyone's done with the activities, right?" Brother Kun clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Come on, new colleagues, don't just stand there. Follow me, I'll show you around the company and help you get familiar with your workplace."
He turned and walked toward a heavy iron door that was open on the side of the warehouse. The thugs immediately signaled to the others to follow with their eyes and clubs.
No one dared to resist. Having witnessed the bloody "welcome ceremony" on the beach, no matter how unwilling or terrified they were, they could only drag their tired and aching bodies, timidly following behind Brother Kun. K walked silently through the crowd, his eyelids lowered, but his gaze was like the most sophisticated scanner, quickly and discreetly recording everything around him: the location of the entrances and exits, the angles of the surveillance cameras, the number and positions of the thugs, the structural features of the buildings...
Passing through the iron gate, there was a long, dimly lit corridor. The walls were mottled, and the floor was not clean. On both sides of the corridor were tightly closed doors, their purpose unclear. The oppressive atmosphere was almost tangible.
After walking for about two or three minutes, a faint, dense "crackling" sound came from ahead, as if countless people were banging on something at the same time.
Brother Kun stopped in front of a heavy, leather-covered double wooden door, turned around, and gave the group a meaningful smile, "Look, this is our company's core business area. Open your eyes wide and take a good look."
He pushed open a door.
Instantly, a complex heat wave, a mixture of sweat, body odor, cheap fast food, cigarette smoke, and the acrid smell of burning electronic devices, hit me. At the same time, the crackling sound suddenly amplified, becoming incredibly clear and intense—a heart-pounding torrent of noise from hundreds and thousands of keyboards being frantically pounded.
Behind the door was a vast, seemingly endless hall. The hall was illuminated by stark white LED lights, making it as bright as an operating room, yet it was also deathly still. Rows of simple, long tables were densely packed together, and in front of each table were several desktop computer monitors, the cold light from the screens reflecting off the faces on them.
Those faces...
K's gaze swept over the area closest to him. Sitting in front of the computers were men and women, ranging in age from their teens to their forties and fifties, but without exception, all of them had sallow or deathly pale complexions, sunken eyes, dark circles under their eyes, bloodshot eyes, and empty, numb gazes, yet they were staring intently at the screens in front of them, exuding an eerie focus and... fear. Their fingers flew across the keyboards, their movements almost blurring, as if a second's delay would bring disaster.
The hall was packed with people, probably several hundred, but there was none of the usual office chatter or phone calls. Instead, there was the incessant clatter of keyboards, like a torrential downpour pounding on a tin roof, and the occasional, suppressed cough or sob. A deathly silence hung over the immense noise, creating an extremely eerie and oppressive atmosphere.
Brother Kun watched with satisfaction as the newlyweds' faces showed shock and fear. Like a tour guide, he strolled along the aisle between the two rows of computer desks, his voice low but clear enough to reach everyone's ears:
"See that? This is our company's 'battlefield'! Every computer is a money-printing machine! And those sitting in front are our 'business elites'!"
He casually patted the shoulder of a young man who was engrossed in typing. The man jumped in fright, almost leaping off his chair. Upon recognizing Brother Kun, he immediately forced a fawning smile that looked more like a grimace, and then typed even more furiously.
Brother Kun smiled and continued walking forward, gesturing for everyone to follow. Some people's gazes involuntarily fell to the ground. Many people in the hall were wearing cheap plastic slippers or were simply barefoot. When some people walked, it was clearly visible that their big toes, or other toes... were missing. The fresh scars on their pale feet were particularly glaring. Recalling the scene on the beach, all the newcomers felt a chill run down their spines.
Brother Kun took it all in stride, but didn't seem to care. Instead, he introduced it in an almost boastful tone:
"I'm the manager here, just call me Brother Kun. I oversee six business teams, each with five to ten people, all of them highly capable!"
He walked to a slightly elevated platform at the front of the hall, where a large desk and several chairs were placed, presumably for a manager. He turned around to face a group of new "employees" with varying expressions.
"From now on, your work will be very simple," Brother Kun's voice carried a seductive quality. "You'll just use the scripts the company has prepared for you to chat with people on the computer. Don't worry, it's all simple, repetitive work. There are templates; just follow them. It's not difficult at all! If you're smart, you can get the hang of it in a day or two!"
He paused, observing the crowd's reactions, and then threw out the bait:
"As for the compensation, our company has always been generous! The base salary is $1,400 USD per month! At the current exchange rate, that's about 10,000 RMB! Where else in China can you find such an easy and lucrative job?"
A very slight commotion arose in the crowd. A base salary of 10,000 RMB was undoubtedly a shocking figure for these people, most of whom came from the bottom of society, harbored dreams of getting rich, or had resorted to illegal immigration out of desperation. In the eyes of many, the fear seemed to be slightly diluted by a faint glimmer of "greed" or "luck."
Brother Kun, seizing the opportunity, sped up his speech, recounting the details as if they were his own treasures:
"Base salary is nothing! We mainly rely on commission! The more you do, the more you earn! The specific commission rate depends on what kind of business you're in."
"For fraudulent online order scams, you get 50 to 200 yuan for each person you bring into the group. The more people they get scammed, the more you get a 5% to 10% cut!"
"Those who impersonate law enforcement officials can get you 8% to 15% commission just by making the phone call and getting the other party to transfer money!"
"The most profitable scam is the 'pig butchering scam'!" Brother Kun's eyes lit up. "Talk to those lonely rich women and men about relationships and investments. As long as you get their money out of their pockets, you can get a 15% to 25% commission! If a single transaction exceeds 100,000, the commission can reach 30%!"
He waved his arms, his voice inflammatory:
"Just think about it! If you successfully complete just two or three 'pig butchering scams' in a month, your commission could easily reach hundreds of thousands! Millions aren't a dream! Isn't that a million times better than working on a construction site or in a factory in China?!"
"And!" he held up a finger, his tone enticing, "Our company has a transparent promotion path! As long as you do well and have outstanding performance, you can become a sales team leader next month! You'll manage a few people and take a cut from their earnings! Further up, supervisor, manager... even reaching my current position isn't impossible!"
Brother Kun opened his arms wide, as if embracing the entire noisy and oppressive hall:
"By then, money will just be a number to you! Luxury cars, villas, beautiful women—you can have whatever you want! You'll completely change your destiny and become a superior person! Isn't that better than you struggling and begging for a living back home, always having to be subservient to others, and never getting ahead in your entire lives?"
As Brother Kun spoke persuasively, and with those seemingly attainable high figures, some of the newcomers did indeed undergo subtle changes in their expressions.
The initial extreme fear and resistance seemed to begin to loosen under the pressure of survival and the temptation of greed. Some people quietly swallowed their saliva, their eyes wandering, not daring to look at the "old employees" around them who were like walking corpses, yet they couldn't help but imagine the "glittering" future that Brother Kun described.
Especially those few who originally intended to "make a quick buck" and "get rich quick," even began to have a morbid, eager glint in their eyes.
In the soil of despair, the seeds of evil seem to be quietly absorbing distorted nutrients, preparing to sprout.
K remained standing at the back of the crowd, his face expressionless, as if everything Brother Kun described had nothing to do with him. His gaze, however, was like the coldest ice, slowly sweeping across every corner of the hall, every numb or greedy face, deeply imprinting every detail of this hell on earth into his mind. His mission had only just begun.