Along the winding mountain trail near the border of China and Myanmar, a group of figures moved swiftly, their hurried footsteps muffled against the rocky terrain. The night was at its darkest, a thick shroud of black pressing down from the sky. The surrounding forest was an abyss of shadows, alive with the distant howls of wolves and the constant chirping of insects. Yet none among them flinched. Fear, it seemed, had long abandoned this group.
"We need to move faster," the lone woman in the group said in a low, commanding voice. Her presence was sharp, her posture exuding authority. "Ever since that trafficking ring was busted a few years ago, border security has been significantly reinforced."
"Don't worry, Leader," one of the men replied obsequiously. "Only a few kilometers more and we'll be underground. This time, we've struck gold. Just one look at the shipment, and anyone at the base will lose their minds."
Another man let out a coarse chuckle, adding, "Absolutely. Once we put her up for sale, people will spend without restraint. They won't be able to help themselves."
Even in their urgency, faint, sinister smiles curved on their faces. Their pace never slowed, but excitement crackled in the air like dry leaves ready to catch fire.
"But, Leader," a tall, heavily built man interjected, his voice grave. Despite his serious tone, the greed in his eyes was unmistakable. With a towering frame and unsettling features, he exuded a natural sense of menace. Even on the treacherous mountain path, he moved with practiced ease, as if the rugged terrain were a familiar ally. Slung over one shoulder was a large sack—disturbingly lumpy and taut, the shape unmistakably human.
"I think we should lie low after this," he continued. "This shipment alone can keep us afloat for years. Last time, things escalated all the way to the authorities. Even diplomats from China got involved."
"You're right," the woman said, glancing at the sack. "We were lucky to get the girl intact. Otherwise, this whole operation would have been a waste."
"But Leader," another man asked warily, "I heard she killed her stepfather. Are we sure we can control someone like her?"
"She's vulnerable now," the leader responded, a cold smirk tugging at her lips. "This is the perfect time to break her spirit. Once she's under, she'll be ours to use as we see fit."
After what felt like an eternity, the group finally crossed the border and exhaled in collective relief. But none of them realized that every step, every whisper, had been observed.
Cloaked in shadows just a few meters behind, a lone figure stood motionless. Dressed head to toe in black, his face obscured, he had been tailing them ever since they abducted the girl hours earlier in the city. His eyes locked onto the sack the tall man carried, and an eerie smirk crept across his face.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a phone and recorded a brief voice message.
"Last target is secured. There's no longer any threat to us."
A moment later, the phone vibrated with a response.
"Good. But don't celebrate yet. Meet her one final time. Make sure she's ruined—completely. Only then will I be at peace."
The man stared at the message, his expression unreadable.
Then, without a word, he turned and vanished once more into the night.
10 days later...
In a dim, cramped room barely larger than a prison cell, a girl around 24 years old sat motionless on the edge of a narrow bed, her vacant gaze fixed on nothing. The air was heavy with mildew and despair. The bed beneath her creaked under the slightest movement, covered with a thin, stained mattress draped in a torn bedsheet and an old, mustard-yellow blanket that had long lost its warmth.
She wore a red checkered shirt, now wrinkled and smudged with dirt, and faded blue pants stained from days of confinement. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin sallow, and dark circles framed her lifeless eyes like bruises of exhaustion. Ten days had passed, and she had not spoken a single word.
Suddenly, the metal door groaned open, and in stepped a woman, sharp-featured and cold-eyed, followed by a broad-shouldered man whose very presence darkened the room further.
The girl, Li Ziqing, turned her eyes slowly toward them but said nothing.
The woman sneered, the corners of her lips curling with cruelty. "You're a tough nut to crack, aren't you?"
Without warning, she lunged forward and slapped the girl hard across the face. Li Ziqing's head snapped to the side, but she didn't cry out. The woman grabbed a fistful of her matted hair, yanked her head back, and leaned in until their faces were inches apart.
"Li Ziqing," she hissed, "you're really starting to get on my nerves. Ten days, and you're still pulling this act? Who the hell do you think you are? If it weren't for us, you'd be rotting in prison for murdering your stepfather. You should be grateful—grateful you ended up here. This is your fortune."
Li Ziqing's expression remained blank, though her jaw clenched ever so slightly. She didn't cry. She didn't beg.
Disgusted, the woman shoved her away. Her frustration was growing. Beatings hadn't worked. Threats hadn't broken her. For five straight days, she had been denied food. Today was the sixth, and still—no tears, no pleas, no submission.
The bulky man leaned in and whispered cautiously, "Leader, if we keep starving or beating her, she might die. And if she dies, all our effort will have been for nothing."
The woman's eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at Li Ziqing, the silence of the girl becoming more infuriating than defiance.
"Then we use force," she muttered coldly. "If she won't bend, we'll break her."
She straightened, brushing invisible dust off her coat, and added with a venomous calm, "Tonight's client is generous. Fifty thousand kyat. That kind of offer can't be refused."
With that, she turned and strode out of the room, heels clicking against the concrete floor.
"Get her ready," she called over her shoulder to the man, her voice devoid of any humanity. "Tonight, she goes on sale."
The man silently locked the door behind him, the sound of the bolt echoing like a final verdict.
Inside the dimly lit room, Li Ziqing remained motionless, her frail body barely upright on the edge of the tattered bed. Silence had once again crept in, thick and suffocating. Then, unexpectedly, a soft, broken chuckle slipped from her lips.
In the cramped, airless space, that sound was eerie—hollow and mournful. A lone tear traced a slow path down her left cheek as the faint ghost of a memory emerged, sharp as shattered glass.
She still remembered that day—the day everything in her life was torn apart.
Ten days had passed, but every time she closed her eyes, the memory resurfaced with ruthless clarity, haunting her like a vengeful spirit.
It had started like any ordinary evening. She'd returned to her small rental apartment after a long shift, hoping for a moment of peace. But the sight that greeted her inside made her heart seize.
Her stepfather—Zhao Shide—was sitting calmly in her living room.
She froze, the blood draining from her face. Panic gripped her chest like a vise. Her breath hitched.
"What... what are you doing here?" she asked, voice trembling with dread.
Zhao Shide's expression darkened in an instant. The false civility melted away, replaced by the twisted rage she remembered too well. He rose from the sofa with alarming speed and barked, "What kind of question is that? Have you forgotten I'm your stepfather? Is this how you treat your elders? Where is your filial piety?"
His voice thundered through the room, and Li Ziqing's knees nearly buckled. Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
She knew what kind of man Zhao Shide was—abusive, controlling, cruel. She and her mother had both suffered under his tyranny. After her mother's death and the suspicious, uninvestigated demise of her younger brother in a Car Accident, Li Ziqing had finally escaped the town, cutting all ties and starting over, and it's been 5 years.
It had taken everything she had to break free.
But now, staring into the eyes of the man she thought she had left behind, the fear she had buried deep inside came rushing back like a tidal wave.
Her voice quivered as she took a step back. "My mother is gone. I have nothing to do with you anymore. Leave… or I'll call the police."
She fumbled through her small clutch bag, fingers shaking as she searched for her phone. But before she could find it, a rough hand seized her wrist.
Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up—and he was already standing in front of her, far too close.
"Don't—" she began, but the word barely escaped.
His filthy, calloused hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her scream before it could form. The stench of sweat and tobacco filled her nostrils as she struggled, eyes wide with horror.
She kicked, twisted, tried to break free—but his grip only tightened.