The Call from the ‘Embassy’ That Almost Changed Her Life
- YUXIN XUE
- 7月28日
- 讀畢需時 11 分鐘
It was around midday when the student dormitory at Taylor’s University became quiet. Xie
Yuxin, a girl from China majoring in the Bachelor of Mass Communication had just finished
lunch and was getting ready for a nap when her phone suddenly rang. It was a local
Malaysian number. She didn’t think much of it — after all, in this foreign country, a phone
call usually meant something important.
As soon as she answered, a robotic female voice played:
“Hello, this is the Chinese Embassy in Malaysia. You have a document pending collection. Please press 9 for more information.”
She had never had any dealings with the embassy. But curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated for a moment and didn’t hang up. The call automatically moved to next stage. A man with a stern voice came on the line, claiming to be from a certain department of the embassy. He didn’t explain the situation straight away. Instead, he asked coldly:
“Don’t you know what you’ve done?”
The question threw her off. Confused, she kept asking what was happening. Only then did the man soften his tone and begin to “explain”. Someone had reported her WeChat account for illegal activity, and her bank accounts and e-wallets were about to be frozen.
She denied it repeatedly, but the man replied,
“Then you must report it to the police right now and check the surveillance footage to see who's impersonating you.”
He proceeded to reel off a string of disturbing personal details. Then he told her the exact time and location a mobile number had been registered at a telecom office in Quanzhou. The information was so accurate that she had no reason to doubt it.
“You need to go back to China and report it,” he said.
She told him she couldn’t. There was a pause. Then his tone shifted to something more “understanding”:
“We have channels. We can transfer you to the Quanzhou police.”
Moments later, the call was “smoothly connected” to a man claiming to be Officer Lin Weien. He said that she would need to give a statement remotely via WhatsApp. Panicked, she followed his instructions.
And just like that, it began — step by step, with no room to breathe — drawing her into an abyss built from polished scripts and a carefully rehearsed system.
No Pause, No Exit
Lin Weien continued “questioning” her via WhatsApp, speaking calmly but with an air of authority. He asked her to provide her personal details such as IC number, passport number and visa information, saying it was necessary to “enter the system to check if it was related to other cases.” Panic-stricken, she almost instinctively complied.
A few minutes later, a strange male voice suddenly interrupted the call. Though calm in tone, his voice was suffocating:
“She is involved in a top-secret case connected to the Zheng Shaodong case.”
The atmosphere seemed to freeze instantly. Lin responded quietly before relaying the message to her “Your name has appeared on the suspect list of a major classified money laundering case. In one of our investigation sites, over two hundred bank cards were found, several registered under your name, with transactions totaling millions.”
She vehemently denied any involvement. Lin said, “This is not the time for explanations. This is feedback from the superior system. According to regulations, you should be detained for investigation.”
She was stunned, her mind blank. All she could say was, “I didn’t do it,” and “Has someone stolen my identity? I lost my IC in Malaysia before!” Lin feigned understanding: “I believe you’re innocent. But this case is confidential and must be handled discreetly. Publicising your arrest would alert others. You need to apply for ‘release on bail’ and prove you have no malicious intent, as well as social connections and a stable identity.”
He then instructed her to call a “higher department” to speak with Wang Shuangqing, director of the Economic Crime Investigation Department. Wang’s tone was harsh:
“All classified cases require detention. There is no special procedure.” She even urgently offered to cooperate and return to China to clarify matters. Wang replied coldly: “If you come back now, we will arrange an immediate face-to-face confrontation with Zheng Shaodong.” For a moment, she thought this might clear her name quickly, so she said, “Okay, I’ll go back.” But when she called Lin again, he anxiously warned: “Are you stupid? He just wants you to turn yourself in! I’ll plead for you. Don’t hang up.”
What followed was a “dispute” she would never forget. Lin “dialled” Wang in her ear and pleaded: “She’s young, has no criminal record, and is a student studying abroad. She embodies the expectations of her parents. Isn’t she worth a chance?”
Wang shouted:
“You’re vouching for her? Can you take responsibility if she flees?”
Lin insisted:
“I’ve reviewed her records and know her family background. She doesn’t seem like a criminal. I’m willing to vouch for her.” The argument lasted nearly ten minutes. She was trapped in the middle, like a prisoner awaiting judgment. The line between reality and illusion blurred; she began to believe she was truly caught in an invisible trap.
Eventually, Wang “relented”:
“We can consider granting bail pending trial. But she must submit a detailed guarantee letter of at least three thousand words, outlining her personal history, family background, financial situation, and reflecting on her own issues. Only then can the court consider it.”
Writing the guarantee letter felt like deep hypnosis. Under relentless psychological pressure, she began doubting reality. When she finished her over three-thousand-word “self-rescue letter” late at night, a strange calm washed over her — as if she really were part of the case. She no longer doubted the other party was a real police officer, and that it was all really happening. The script was set, she had been cast in the role, and was even adding lines to this absurd play.
The pace was relentless, leaving no time to pause or question. Every call and negotiation was a step-by-step “clearance process,” pushing her forward in panic and fear. The scammers quietly built walls with words like “confidential,” “national security,” and “internal control,” isolating her from reason and help, forcing her to trust these “kind-hearted” fake officers.
And indeed, she believed them.
Step by step into the abyss — and no one knew she was about to break
Wang Shuangqing sent over a file titled “Decision on Granting Bail Pending Trial.” She opened it and froze. 1.08 million yuan. She could hardly believe her eyes.
Before she had time to ask anything, Lin called back. “Well? You saw it, didn’t you?” she replied with a trembling voice, repeating the number. Lin, too, sounded “shocked” on the other end.
“What? Why is it so high? A Singaporean student had a similar case before, and it didn’t cost nearly as much. Let me try to bargain for you again.”
Soon, Lin “brought good news” — the amount could be negotiated.
She felt a flicker of hope, and once again found herself tethered to a strange sense of relief. Encouraged by Lin’s hints and reassurances, she slowly began to convince herself. To outplay their script, she started writing a script of her own — one meant to deceive her parents.
To get the money, she lied and said she had been accepted into an exchange program in Australia, and that the school required an upfront deposit. First, she laid out the full story. Then, in a softened tone, she brought up the amount. When her parents hesitated, she feigned compromise, saying she would “check with the school if it could be lower,” or “look into the minimum requirements.”
In this psychological tug-of-war between fiction and reality, she negotiated over and over — lowering the figure, applying for a ‘discount,’ and bringing back ‘updates’ to steer the next round.
In this psychological tug-of-war between fiction and reality, she negotiated over and over — lowering the figure, applying for a ‘discount,’ and bringing back ‘updates’ to steer the next round.
Meanwhile, her mental state began to unravel. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think. Every six hours, she had to “check in” to prove she was safe. She kept her camera on around the clock. She was told to upload her phone’s browsing history and chat logs. She didn’t dare tell anyone — not just out of fear of “leaking state secrets,” but also out of fear of dragging the people she loved into it. Her nerves were stretched to the limit. Even the sound of a phone ringing made her heart drop.
But the worst pain came from within.
She watched her parents on the other end of the phone — their doubt, hesitation, and eventual surrender.
Each compromise was like a blade to the heart.
She wanted to protect them — but to do so, she had to lie to them. The guilt, despair, agony, and determination almost crushed her.
She couldn’t tell them the truth. She couldn’t stop the lie.
What hurt her wasn’t just being scammed — it was carrying the burden alone, including lying to the people she loved most.
More than once, she wanted to give up.
More than once, she whispered to herself,
“I can’t do this anymore.”
But the scammers’ “encouragement” and pressure were like shackles, keeping her locked in place. Her own imagination and sense of responsibility became a whip — driving her forward while slowly draining her dry.
Eventually, she wrote a long letter to her parents —
a letter soaked in blood and tears, a record of her internal struggle, and a final farewell in case she ended up in prison.
She wrote:
“In life, anything can happen to any of us — whether good fortune or misfortune. Life is full of the unexpected. Then let’s face it head-on. I will accept whatever fate brings me, calmly. I will keep trying to live — please, trust me.”
During that time, every day she woke up to nothing but despair. She began to confront questions she had never dared think about —
life, the future, responsibility, money — and death.
It was the first time she seriously looked into how to take her own life.
She didn’t know what the next day would bring, or if she would even wake up free. All she could do was keep repeating to herself: hold on a little longer.
One Step Away, Pulled Back by Love
She had to return to her country. The Chinese authorities were extremely strict with regulations. Her bank card had never been granted the permission for large-scale transfers, and she had tried every possible method but failed. The other party urged her, and she was extremely stressed. Eventually, she told the other party that she had to go back in person to activate the function. Her ID card was not with her, so she simply chose to return home under the pretext of the Dragon Boat Festival and the school's independent study week. During that time, she was extremely miserable. Perhaps the decision to go home was also mixed with a longing for family affection. She returned to her country with a completely self-consistent logic and lies: She was very clear that that WeChat account was registered by the gang using her identity, and the bank card was also forged. She was just an ordinary person assisting in the investigation. She believed that deceiving her parents was to protect them; she believed that as long as the matter was handled smoothly, everything would pass. After returning, she followed the other party's instructions to go to the bank and obtained the U-Card device, activating the large transfer function. The fraudster repeatedly emphasized that they must not disclose any information to the counter staff because "there are people within the organization", there was a risk of information leakage. She remained calm and followed each step. She was almost seeing the day of her "freedom".
It was not until a technical error pulled her back.
After the transaction was completed, she was about to transfer the money through the mobile banking app, only to realize that she had forgotten a crucial password. The transfer failed and she had to try again the next day. During that "gap day", she decided to meet her psychological counselor, Ma Fei in person - she had always had psychological issues and had been maintaining regular online communication with him. This time it was a face-to-face consultation, originally intended to relieve stress. Even if she couldn't fully disclose everything, she wanted to find some emotional comfort. She didn't elaborate on her experiences, but merely vaguely mentioned "too much pressure", "being released on bail pending trial", "it will pass soon, and you will be surprised by then", and other vague phrases. Ma Fei could sense that there was deep pain behind those words. She didn't expose her, but quietly consulted a lawyer and realized that the situation might be very serious. That afternoon, Ma Fei invited her to come again, saying "There are still a few things I want to add". She went, and not long after sitting down, she found that her father had also been called over - Ma Fei didn't tell her in advance, and everything was arranged secretly.
She was shocked, angry and defensive, her emotions on the verge of collapse. But this time, she finally heard the truth. Ma Fei spoke firmly, saying that she had been deceived. At first, she didn't believe it and even instinctively denied it. But when she saw her father standing beside her, that moment she realized that the deception had collapsed. The mental control, like a shattered mirror, crashed down with a thunderous sound. Her emotional barriers finally broke down, and a flood of emotions rushed in. She cried. The "prison" she had struggled in her nightmare, that persuasive letter filled with all her survival desires, those layers of probing and counter-probing with her parents... Everything finally collapsed. That evening, she, along with her father and Ma Fei, walked into the police station and reported the case.
No transfer. No final step.
She was saved.
Spared the Worst, But Far from Over
She didn't lose a single penny, and was rescued before even reaching the step of the transfer. But all of this doesn't mean an easy ending. Even now, she occasionally still dreams of that "guarantee letter for bail pending trial" written to her parents, and dreams of the "confidential case" that she almost believed to be true. It's not a recurrence of trauma, but a kind of hard-to-express fear - she truly knows that she was only one step away from the cliff. She is not the kind of person who is easily deceived, and has always considered herself highly vigilant. But during that period, she really thought she was "cooperating with the investigation" and thought she was smart enough to avoid risks and resolve crises. And precisely because of this, the emotions after awakening were more complex. Shame, self-reproach, and reluctance once made her reluctant to talk about this matter. Her father's initial reaction almost broke her. He was stern, intense, and didn't understand her choice, and even stopped her from searching for similar experiences on social platforms. She felt a kind of distrust from her relatives, which was a secondary injury. But later, he seriously reflected on his attitude and expressed his apology to her, admitting that it was because he was too anxious and too scared at that time. He said that after this incident, he would no longer use "you have problems too" to explain any deception. He wanted to stand by her side, rather than questioning her. Her psychological counselor Ma Fei, to this day, has not used the words "how could you believe?" to evaluate her behavior. She simply used the sharpness and judgment of a professional worker at the appropriate time to press pause for her. She said, "You don't need to bear any responsibility for explaining now. You just need to be protected." This crisis is over. But she is very clear in her heart that not everyone can have such an outcome. Those who "almost got deceived" rarely can tell a complete story. Because they may not be able to realize that they were deceived, or be able to detach themselves from it, or be silenced before they can even speak out. Therefore, she chose to write this story down, not for "sharing experiences" or "warning others", but not to emphasize that she "luckily escaped unscathed". She just thought that in the context of frequent incidents of fraud targeting Chinese students, someone needed to explain all of this clearly. She hoped that people could see: These scripted scams are no longer just simple telecommunications fraud. They are like the puppets in an opera theater, controlled by speech patterns, roles, rhythm, and emotions, leading people to step into the trap actively. And many students are precisely in the position where such scripts are most likely to hit: far from their families, information asymmetry, natural obedience to authority, and fear of "getting into trouble". She also hopes to show that what really matters is not "who was deceived", but whether we have built a sufficiently safe environment to accommodate those who are at risk of falling. She said that she didn't gain anything "growth" or "meaning", but just understood that sometimes, a person can survive not because she is smarter or stronger, but because someone saw her and promptly pulled her back.
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