A 25-year-old young man who fled from a scam in Cambodia recently shared with Epoch Times the nightmares he has been experiencing every night since leaving the Baolong Four scam compound more than four months ago. The young man, identified as Li He (alias), from Sichuan, embarked on a journey back home in August 2025. In just three months, he went from being a young job seeker in Shenzhen to becoming a “hostage” who was imprisoned, beaten, and forced into scam activities. It took his family exhausting their savings of 250,000 RMB to secure his release and save his life.
The Baolong Four scam compound in Cambodia, also known as “Xinchengjimeng,” from which Li He escaped, is still believed to be holding thousands of Chinese nationals captive. Although the top management has already evacuated, the compound continues to operate, dealing exclusively in domestic scams and unwilling to release its captives. They even threatened that they would not let anyone out, even if they were all blown up inside.
Li He, who exposed his abduction on Douyin in December 2025, further revealed the inner workings of the compound and his escape process during an interview with Epoch Times in early January this year, hoping to raise awareness among the public.
According to Li He, it all started when he saw a video of “Dafei” in Fangchenggang, Guangxi, on Douyin and left a comment asking to be taken along. Someone immediately added him on WeChat, and they chatted for over a month. The individual did not rush into discussing getting rich; instead, they bombarded him with images of luxury cars, villas, beautiful women, and hotels. Since Li He was having trouble finding a job in Shenzhen at the time, he took the initiative to ask if they could help him “earn some money.”
They initially offered him a “Vietnamese line port cargo” job: a ship “500 pieces,” transported to Fangchenggang, Guangxi, to engage in a tax-free industry, emphasizing that it had a “gray-black nature but no need to handle cargo, completely safe.” They even kindly bought him a high-speed railway ticket to Nanning so he could head there directly. However, at the last moment before departure, the route was changed from Fangchenggang to Nanning, with the reason being “it’s not cost-effective for just one person on a ship.” Li He later regretted, “Now looking back, I realize how foolish I was to believe his lies.”
After reaching Nanning, he was transferred to Chongzuo and then crossed into Vietnam through “small roads, past wire fences.” Li He described the journey as “unobstructed all the way,” and he felt that “someone had already arranged official matters,” upon arrival in Vietnam. When he requested to use the restroom, it became a turning point in losing his freedom – “I couldn’t hold it anymore and forcefully tried to open the car door. Then four people grabbed my hair and forcibly subdued me.” He attempted to escape once during the journey but was unsuccessful and ultimately ended up in the Baolong Four compound.
Upon arrival at the compound, Li He was subjected to a strict “entry process”: first, he was asked to “undress for inspection,” his mouth was checked with a flashlight, even his “rear end” was examined; then he was forced to be videotaped with his identification card displayed on his chest while reading a piece of paper word for word, stating, “I voluntarily came to Southeast Asia for fraud without being forced or coerced by anyone,” providing personal information such as his ID number, name, address, family members, and so on. If the facial expressions during filming looked unnatural, he would be beaten.
Next came the contract – he said he did not read its contents clearly, so they directly pressed his hand to sign it. The supervisor verbally promised to “safely send you back to the country in two years,” but Li He emphasized that it was a deception. Instead of fulfilling their promise, once the contract expired, they would “sell the person to the next compound.”
Crucially, the rules were enforced with fists rather than advocacy. Li He recounted that within the first four or five days of his arrival, just because he subconsciously glanced at the team leader when he entered, “two seconds later, his fist was hitting my face”; even when he tried to smile through the pain, he was still punched, and they would say, “I enjoy hitting you.”
The list of compound rules was extensive and strictly enforced: no looking around, no staring at the office door, no approaching the wall, restroom breaks not exceeding 10 minutes, no conversing with others, maintaining a proper sitting posture, and not making eye contact.
What terrified Li He the most was the prohibition against facing any unexpected event – “even if a grenade exploded behind you, you could not turn to look.” He explained that the compound threatened with warnings: “the first time, they warn you; the second time, they take your eyes out.”
Li He described the fraud at Baolong Four not as isolated incidents but as a highly organized and reproducible “factory.” The work hours ranged from 8 am to 2 am, with “almost no rest,” and he described an environment where life and work spaces were forcibly merged, meaning, “You eat, drink, and even relieve yourself all within the same office,” in appalling hygienic conditions.
The compound was structured like a quadrangle with over 20 dormitories, each containing 12 to 14 people, bunk beds equipped with iron bars and windows. In the dormitories, chatting was not permitted, and each group had a leader, deputy leader, or internal security guard monitoring them closely.
The fraudulent operation required an intricate supply chain: each person had “at least three mobile phones,” accounts sourced from specialized number vendors, “creating dozens of accounts, specifically used to sell to the compound.” For instance, an account with “100 followers” could be rented for 500 to 800 yuan for a period, and once used up, it would be replaced with a new one as the old account would be blocked after a month. Inside the compound, there were engineers using AI to “swap faces,” placing fraudsters’ faces on photos of celebrities.
In terms of scripts, the compound demanded that scripts be “memorized verbatim.” Li He mentioned the common “military package” script: pretending to be a military veteran “for over thirty years,” fabricating family backgrounds (such as having a daughter studying in Australia, and losing both father and wife), and endorsing the trustworthiness of the scheme by mentioning that “Sergeant Major works at ‘Chinese Gold.'” This script led victims to invest by claiming that they could earn “5% daily.” He stressed that it wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed, rather it was complex and required a whole process.
When targeting victims, the company particularly sought “women aged 45 to 70” who were “wealthy, not previously scammed, and had time to spare.” The compound referred to this selective process as the “trio, lacking one” screening.
To bring funds into the compound, Li He explained that victims were guided to invest in stocks or gold, convert the gains into USDT (Tether), then exchange it for physical US dollars, which were handed over to the compound by offline “drivers;” Li He commented, “There are drivers all over the country, and even if you are in Shanghai, they can send someone to collect your money within an hour.”
Within the compound, “debt” was another means of control. Li He stated he owed the compound “200,000 yuan” from the first day he entered, including transportation costs and the expenses of “purchasing personnel from the human smuggler;” expenses for subsequent meals, water, using the restroom, typing on the keyboard, mobile equipment, purchasing TikTok and Kwai numbers, and even breathing and lodging, were all counted as debts.
The compound did not provide any salaries – only compensation. Li He explained that one had to “clear all the compensation” before receiving a salary, but he straightforwardly said, “you could never clear it all.”
Violence was also systematized. Li He mentioned that being beaten “more than 20 times a day” was normal because “every team leader or supervisor could hit you at any time.” Penalties for underperformance increased exponentially: if someone failed to bring new clients for three days, they would receive five hits on the fourth, ten on the fifth, and a maximum of “160 hits.” In addition to physical punishment: 500 squats, two hours of duck walk exercises, 30 minutes of push-ups, one hour of planking; failure to complete results in “electric shocks, whip lashes, and being beaten with sticks,” and sometimes they were required to do so “until they faint.”
He also described more extreme forms of humiliating punishment: forced to eat “10 raw lemons” followed by “20 raw baby chili peppers,” or being compelled to “eat feces and drink urine” in the restroom; if one refused, their teeth would be pulled out, a tube would be inserted into their throat, “stuffing it inside,” and he added, “I have seen it with my own eyes,” he had to do it himself and even drank urine.
Regarding sexual violence and electric shocks, he mentioned that males would be subjected to electric shocks on their private areas, while females might be asked to “stand on a chair and squeeze a mop for 5 minutes; if they couldn’t, they would be gang-raped.”
Li He also mentioned instances where death wasn’t merely a threat. He claimed to have witnessed someone being beaten to death on the spot for falling asleep at work; the compound would “dig a hole near the facility, and bury them alive.”
“If you want to commit suicide, your team leader provides you tools. You choose how you want to die, whether by rope or knife,” Li He explained.
In this system, people were also treated as commodities for trade. He stated that “they generally didn’t beat people to death because they can be sold,” adding that “a person was worth $15,000, and women were even more expensive.” He also mentioned that Telegram channels known as “aircraft groups” were used for trading in people, effectively turning human trafficking into an open market.
Under intense surveillance, Li He attempted to seek help through “indirect” means: first contacting classmates, who then contacted others before finally relaying the message back home. He stated that the compound would conduct surprise phone checks, looking through follower lists, comments, and chat records; if any irregularities were found, the person would be “beaten to death on the spot,” particularly those who interacted with family members using accounts provided by the compound.
Around June 2025, through a person known as “Old Piglet,” Li He provided his family with more precise location information, including the name of the compound, dormitory number, and his personal code. However, as soon as his family contacted the embassy in early July, “he was sold off.”
“If you report to the police or seek help from the embassy, they will betray you,” Li He added, saying that “in Baolong City, the company name doesn’t matter. Every two months, the company would change its name. The internal codes and management aliases were also changed periodically, including moving locations every now and then.”
On July 9th, the company found out about his plea for help and “hung him up for three days and nights,” restraining him under a structure similar to a clothes hanger under the sun, and depriving him of food for “2 and a half days,” before he was resold to another company next door.
Li He explained that while the compound’s security guards were Burmese, the management was entirely Chinese, noting that “if they show some compassion, they wouldn’t be able to reach the management level.”
After Li He’s parents realized the severity of the situation, they resorted to “non-official channels.” Li He speculated that his family might have heard information through Douyin and eventually found a “rescue team,” requiring 250,000 RMB; he explained that his family had to sell off “the old sow pig and a few old hens” for this. He emphasized that “if you are short of even a penny, no one will help you.”
Li He was informed to expect a rescue on July 31st. He recalled waiting from 1 pm until 5:30 pm that day without seeing anyone, and as his emotions collapsed, his phone was snatched by the team leader. He overheard the boss instructing them through messages to “handle it correctly” and transfer him to “another building numbered 1.”
The boss personally came to verify him, and Li He was forced to repeatedly rehearse a statement: that he wasn’t physically beaten, didn’t commit fraud, and hadn’t arrived at the compound even a week ago; the property kept asking repeatedly “whether someone had beaten him”; he could only answer “no,” claiming the face injury was due to “falling downstairs.”
Finally, he was taken to the compound’s entrance where he could see the rescue team. He described the scene as having “only one Chinese person,” who had brought “2 carloads of gendarmes, and 2 carloads of police,” making it a total of 20 to 30 local personnel, suggesting suspicious connections. The payment method was to “rescue the person first” upon arrival in Phnom Penh, then pay the money through transfer and cash settlement, stating that “there are liaison persons within the country, who meet offline for payment.”
During the interview, he declined to comment on the governmental efforts to crack down on scams, stating, “I won’t discuss this topic; I want to live longer,” adding that “seeking help from the embassy or local police is useless.”
Numerous cases similar to Li He’s have come to light recently. The compound he described as “Baolong Four” or “Xinchengjimeng” is one of the notorious scam hubs in Cambodia termed “Pobe,” garnering significant attention lately, with its operational model, location identification, and rescue costs closely resembling other victim cases.
On the evening of November 25, 2025, mainland Chinese actor Tong Zhuo sought help on Weibo, indicating that his cousin, Li Yiheng, went missing after going out to work on November 13, and subsequent location tracking indicated he was in Cambodia. Hubei Daily’s website reposted a report by “Jiumu News” on November 26th, suggesting that the provided location information and satellite images seemed to match a compound in Pobe named “New City Seven,” also known as “Baolong Four.”
Li He stressed that focusing solely on “Baolong Four” or a single compound underestimates the genuine scale of the fraud industry in Cambodia. He stated that Baolong is just a part of it and not even the biggest or most malevolent batch.
From the information he gathered, “Qixinghai, Pobe, Baolong, Pusa” are larger and darker than his compound. Li He mentioned, “My compound had only over 10,000 people. When you compare it to these places, it’s nothing.”
“We have Baolong One, Baolong Two, Baolong Three, I was in Baolong Four, and they are currently constructing Baolong Five,” revealing that “the external perception is that the crackdowns are severe, but inside, they are continually recruiting and constructing.” He elaborated, “People are not enough, so they continue to deceive and recruit.”
One of the recent focal points is the founder and chairman of the Cambodian Prince Group, Chen Zhi, who was indicted by the US in mid-October last year, charged with massive telecommunication fraud and involvement in illicit activities. The authorities seized a significant amount of encrypted money in his name, with the Bitcoin alone valued at around 15 billion dollars. Political channel host Zhang Tianliang stated that Chen Zhi’s repatriation to China was a “protective arrest” because he had extensive knowledge of the criminal activities involving high-ranking Chinese and Cambodian officials. If extradited to the US for trial, his revelations would expose truths that could cause significant harm to the Chinese Communist Party.
Eric, a former Chinese Communist Party special agent in exile in Australia, who previously worked at the Prince Group, revealed in an interview with Epoch Times that the Prince Group is one of the most crucial agents the Chinese Communist government relies on for secretive operations in Cambodia and across Southeast Asia. He explained that the Prince Group provides comprehensive support for the Chinese Communist Party’s overseas initiatives- ranging from funds, personnel, to transportation; it is an all-encompassing entity. The group essentially serves as a financial and logistical hub within the Chinese Communist special operations system.