The first benefactor, wrench

The notorious KK Park is dozens of times larger than the smaller park in Kokang, with at least over ten thousand people, according to Wrench. 

Located in the southeastern part of Myanmar's Karen State, it borders the Thai city of Mae Sot, separated only by a river. The Myawaddy area in Karen State also faces small Chinese border towns like Ruili and Wanding across the river. It's said that during the dry season, you can even walk across the border. This proximity makes Thailand a hub for human trafficking, while Myawaddy is the largest base for "organ transplantation" in the Golden Triangle.

The park has all sorts of entertainment facilities and dining establishments. The outer fence is about four or five meters high with barbed wire on top, making it impossible to climb over. Thugs with AK-47s patrol the park 24/7, and the outside is also filled with armed thugs and Karen border guards. The chance of escape is slim. Entering the park means facing death, hence the nickname "the end of the road."

Wrench took me to a dark, damp basement, left a bottle of Yunnan Baiyao spray, and left. I was unlucky to have just escaped and then been caught again and brought into KK Park. But I was also lucky to have met someone like Wrench in this hellhole.

The basement was similar to the one in Kokang but even more humid, eerie, and spacious, with more people. After being thrown in, I found a relatively clean corner to sit in. Clean only meant there was no visible feces or urine. The dirty, messy basement was filled with various unpleasant smells—stench, mold, and blood. Staying long in this place could suffocate you.

There were about ten other people inside, men and women in their twenties. The women were all disheveled, their faces swollen. The men were like me, covered in wounds, with some missing limbs. Despite the weather being similar to Yunnan, the basement was chilly at night, making it wise to huddle together for warmth.

Upon entering, they glanced at me before returning to their despondent states, treating me like I was invisible. Without clothes or blankets, they huddled together for warmth. I endured hunger and pain, spraying Yunnan Baiyao on my wounds. One bottle was far from enough, as my entire body, except for my face and lower body, was covered in bruises and blood. My head hurt terribly from being hit by the black thug's gunstock. Unable to see the wound, I simply sprayed Yunnan Baiyao all over.

After dealing with the dried blood and wounds, I contemplated how to rest. Sitting hurt my butt and was too cold, lying down hurt my back and head, and my chest and abdomen ached terribly. My hands were swollen like pig's trotters. Exhausted from the fight, my limbs were weak, barely able to support me.

As I struggled to find a comfortable position, the basement door suddenly opened.

"Hey, take this."

Wrench came in and handed me a package.

"... Th-thank you!"

I was so moved I didn't know what to say, just staring at him with teary eyes.

"No need to thank me. I won some money, so consider it a meal from me!"

Wrench smiled and left. He referred to the bet he won on my fight with the black thug.

Holding the heavy package, I watched his fading silhouette, my nose tingling and tears falling. Inside the package were essentials: water, bread, biscuits, pain relief pills, and safflower oil. The "package" was actually a t-shirt wrapped around a pair of pants and the food. I cried as I put on the t-shirt and pants, gulping down a bottle of water. I was so thirsty I felt I might die without drinking.

After eating a piece of bread, I quickly chewed and swallowed a Chinese pain relief pill. Most things here were made in China, and many people here had settled from China, engaging in fraudulent activities.

When I reached for a second piece of bread, I noticed the others staring at me with envious, longing eyes. They probably thought I was one of Liu Shiyi's thugs, hence their hesitation to ask for food. 

"Do you... want to share some food?" I asked, feeling guilty. They were also victims from China, likely hungry too.

"No, thanks."

One of the men shook his head, though his eyes never left my bread, and he swallowed hard. 

"We're all Chinese. Let's share."

Unable to bear their plight, I threw over two boxes of biscuits and a bottle of water, ensuring I could survive the day myself.

"Thank you, thank you..." They wept as they opened and shared the food, savoring each bite. 

Sighing, I finished my bread and continued applying safflower oil. I had to recover quickly to survive in this hell.

After finishing the food, they started talking to me. They were all here for failing to meet their quotas, while the women were punished for "disobedience." The girls who disobeyed were subjected to "four-wheel alignment" before being thrown into the basement. Those who survived were considered lucky; others were sent to the warlords, where hundreds of soldiers would brutalize them until they died. Even after death, the soldiers continued their atrocities.

One young man from Shandong had a centipede-like scar on his left waist, a remnant of a kidney removal a month ago. They kept him alive for future organ matches.

In Kokang, the initial full-body checks were to test blood and organ compatibility for potential buyers. When needed, organs were removed without anesthesia. 

Strapped to the operating table, helpless, people would endure the excruciating pain as unscrupulous doctors removed their organs. Those who survived were left to recover or die. The bodies were disposed of in the river, disappearing forever.

Your loved ones would never know your fate or the horrors you endured…