Tricked by My Best Friend into Making Quick Money in Northern Myanmar

The person who experienced this wasn’t me — it was my cousin from my uncle’s family. She told me everything that happened to her in Thailand and Myanmar. Now, I will recount the entire story in the first person. I hope you can read this story. I hope it can serve as a warning to everyone. Ladies, never trust anyone too easily — especially beautiful women. Once you’re tricked into going abroad, the only thing waiting for you is a dead end. Or more accurately, a fate worse than death. Some novel authors write about Northern Myanmar purely from imagination. They claim you can be tricked there and still return clean and unscathed. That’s pure bullshit. Let me say it again: The reason you haven’t been scammed yet is simply because you haven’t encountered the scam that was made specifically for you. Don’t doubt this. Especially when your mental defenses are weak — you must stay extremely vigilant. People believe in gods when they’re sick. They seek warmth when they’re cold. They crave food when they’re hungry. And when they’re helpless, they long for someone to reach out a helping hand. It was 11:30 p.m. The city had gradually fallen silent. I curled up in the corner of the sofa, refreshing my banking app for the countless time. No miracle appeared — the balance showed 37,652.80 yuan. That was my entire savings after five years of working. Another window was open on the screen, displaying my father’s diagnosis and the estimated cost of surgery: 500,000 yuan. That number stood like an insurmountable wall in front of me. For a rural family like ours, it was impossible to overcome. Three days ago, my department supervisor called me into his office and regretfully announced that due to large-scale layoffs, my position was being eliminated. At that moment, it felt as if fate had already set up a series of traps, simply waiting for me to fall into them one by one. My phone vibrated. It was a call from the hospital caregiver. “Miss Zhou, your father’s condition is unstable. The doctor says it’s best to arrange the surgery as soon as possible.” My throat tightened. I barely managed to reply, “Okay, I understand,” then hung up and buried my face in my knees. Tears poured out uncontrollably. I had begged and borrowed everywhere. Only a small portion of relatives and friends were willing to help. My father had worked hard and lived simply his whole life. He had just retired and should have been enjoying his later years, but he was diagnosed with a serious heart condition. My mother’s hair had turned mostly white in just a few months, yet she kept forcing herself to comfort me, saying, “There will always be a way.” And I, their only daughter, had lost my job at the exact moment I needed to step up and take responsibility. Even if I sold everything I could, it would still be a drop in the ocean compared to 500,000 yuan. My phone rang again. This time, it was a WeChat message. I wiped away my tears and lit up the screen. A long-forgotten name appeared — Chu Yao. “Chengcheng, are you asleep?” Those five simple words made my heart tremble. Chu Yao, my closest friend from childhood. We hadn’t had a real conversation in nearly two years. Our last chat record was just a polite birthday greeting. As I hesitated on how to reply, her second message popped up: “I saw your Moments post. I have something good for you. Can we talk?” Yesterday, because of my father’s illness, I had posted on Moments: “Only when you sit beside an IV drip at night do you realize that health and peace are the most precious wishes.” She must have seen that post. Before I could answer, a video call invitation popped up. I quickly tidied my hair, took a deep breath, and accepted the call. Chu Yao’s face appeared on the screen. She looked much more mature than I remembered. She was wearing delicate makeup, sparkling earrings, and the background seemed to be a luxurious living room. “Chengcheng! Long time no see!” Her voice was cheerful, forming a sharp contrast with the dead silence on my side. I forced a small smile. “Yao Yao, it really has been a long time.” “Look at your Moments post — are you in some kind of trouble?” At a moment like this, I desperately hoped someone could help me, so I didn’t deny it. I nodded and briefly told her about my situation. She sighed, her tone full of sympathy. “I’m currently working at a cross-border company in Thailand. The benefits are excellent. The company is expanding, and there’s an administrative vacancy. Monthly salary of 20,000 yuan, with accommodation and meals included. I thought of you immediately and saved the position especially for you!” Chu Yao had mentioned it once last year, but back then she said the salary was 10,000. My job was stable — even though I only earned 5,000 a month, it felt safer staying in China, so I never considered going. But now, things were different. 20,000 yuan a month was very tempting. “How about it? Tempted?” Seeing that I didn’t respond immediately, Chu Yao smiled and continued, “I know you’ve been feeling undervalued in that small company. There’s a lot of room for growth here. If you do well, you can get promoted every six months.” I licked my dry lips. “Why such a good opportunity all of a sudden? Last year you said the salary was only 10,000…” “Oh, the company expanded! And of course, I was thinking of our old friendship!” Chu Yao’s eyes flickered slightly. “From elementary school to junior high, you were my closest friend. Remember that time in junior high when I had a fever? You skipped class to take me to the infirmary.” Memories came rushing back like a tidal wave. Yes, back then we were inseparable — sharing all our secrets and snacks, sleeping over at each other’s houses, talking until dawn. But after university, we went to different cities. After starting work, we each built our own new circles, and our contact gradually became less frequent. The last time we met was during a classmate reunion for Chinese New Year two years ago — we only exchanged quick greetings. “Thank you for remembering me, but…” I hesitated. I had never been abroad in my entire life. Suddenly, a message from my mother popped up on the screen: “We should decide on the surgery date as soon as possible. Your father’s condition is getting worse the longer we delay.” That sentence pierced through all my hesitation like a needle. “What exactly does the company do? What would I need to do?” I asked. Chu Yao immediately became energized. “It’s cross-border e-commerce. I handle administration there. You’d do clerical work — it’s very simple. The company will handle the visa and flight tickets. You just need to come!” “Can I get an advance on my salary?” There was a short pause on the other side. “I can help you apply for three months’ salary in advance. Chengcheng, do you need money urgently? Once you’re here, I can lend you some.” “Can you lend it to me now?” I asked excitedly. “I could… but…” What Chu Yao meant was that she was abroad and I was in China. She was worried I might not repay her, so she could only lend me the money after I arrived. I was silent for a few seconds. Then I heard myself say, “Okay, I’ll think about it.” “Please reply to me as soon as possible. This position is in high demand,” Chu Yao said. Someone called her name in the background. She turned to answer, then looked back at me. “I have to go now. Waiting for your good news!” The video call ended. The room fell silent once again. That night, I barely slept at all. At four in the morning, I put on a coat and walked out to the balcony. The city’s night sky was dyed a dark red by the lights. Not a single star could be seen. I recalled how, when I was little, my father would carry me on his shoulders and point at the sky, saying, “Chengcheng, no matter what, there will always be light in the sky.” But now, it seemed our sky had lost every last trace of light. The next morning, I told my parents about Chu Yao’s proposal. “Thailand? That’s so far away…” my father said weakly, his brows tightly furrowed. “Monthly salary of 20,000 yuan, with food and accommodation included,” I emphasized, as if trying to convince myself. My mother put down her water cup and pulled me into the corridor outside the ward. “Chengcheng, I saw the news a few days ago. There are many scam companies in Southeast Asia that specifically target Chinese people. You and Chu Yao haven’t been in touch for so long — why would she suddenly save such a good job just for you?” My mother’s words felt like a bucket of cold water poured over my head. Indeed, there had been endless reports about Southeast Asian scams lately. I had considered the possibility. “But it’s Chu Yao,” I said softly. “We grew up together. How could she possibly deceive me?” “People change,” my mother said worriedly. “You haven’t seen her in so many years. Do you really know what kind of person she is now?” Back at my rental apartment, I pulled out an old photo album. In the pictures, two little girls with ponytails stood close together, smiling at the camera with missing front teeth. That was us in fourth grade — Chu Yao and me. Another photo was from our junior high graduation. We had promised to attend the same high school. Although we didn’t end up doing so, that friendship had once been real. My phone rang. It was a message from Chu Yao: “Chengcheng, have you thought about it? The company is urging me to find someone.” I stared at the message. “My family doesn’t really want me to go abroad.” A moment later, she sent another message: “Do Uncle and Aunt not trust me? Do they think I’m a scammer?” “It’s not that they don’t trust you,” I replied. “It’s just too sudden, and my dad is still sick. I can’t leave right now.” “That’s exactly why you need the money even more!” Chu Yao immediately called me, her voice urgent. “Chengcheng, I really want to help you. You know, I bought a house here last year, and I’m planning to buy a car next year. If you had come last year, you’d be just like me now — no money worries at all.”