After a Year of Viral Pleas, Semi-Famous Douyin Figure Zhao Juncheng Finally Extracted from Myanmar
- Global Anti-Scam Org

- Dec 20
- 3 min read

For more than a year, 赵俊成 (Zhao Juncheng) was a familiar name on Chinese social media. He did not become known through fame, controversy, or media interviews, but through repetition. His father appeared again and again on Douyin, publicly calling out his son’s name, pleading for information, asking strangers to remember him. Video after video, the same message, the same fear, the same unresolved absence. Over time, this persistence turned Zhao into a semi-famous individual online — not by choice, but through a prolonged public vigil that refused to fade.
Public attention intensified after reports emerged that a 16-year-old Sichuan youth named 赵俊成 was believed to have been lured to northern Myanmar after being contacted online and promised easy money. According to family accounts, Zhao left China after receiving such offers, and his father later received messages suggesting that his son was “safe” at the time — messages that both reassured and alarmed the family, helping to fuel sustained public concern. As the situation became clearer, Chinese police in both Sichuan and Zhejiang were reported to have opened investigations into Zhao’s disappearance after it was determined that he had travelled from Zhejiang through Kunming and into Myanmar without authorization, likely crossing the border illegally.
As Zhao’s name spread online, so did assumptions. The most widely repeated claim placed him at the so-called “Pursat 16” scam center in Cambodia, a location already infamous online and therefore easily believed. That narrative circulated for months, reinforced by reposts, comments, and speculation. Yet internal verification efforts failed to locate Zhao anywhere in Cambodia. No survivor testimony, ground channel, or operational trace placed him there, demonstrating how viral repetition can harden into perceived truth even in the absence of evidence.
Subsequent findings confirmed that Zhao had never been in Cambodia at all. He was always located at Wan Hai–Dangyang in northern Shan State, Myanmar. Wan Hai is a village under Wan Hai Township in the Koxi Subdistrict of Mong Hsu County, Shan State, and currently serves as the headquarters of the Northern Shan State Army. The area is under militia control and is widely regarded as one of the most notorious telecom-scam zones in the region. According to credible sources in direct communication with all involved parties, Zhao was not a confined or trafficked worker but held a supervisory position within the scam operation, a reality unknown to the public while his name circulated widely online.
Zhao’s departure only became possible after the scam center was dismantled. As is common in Myanmar’s border regions, the collapse of scam operations does not immediately result in formal law-enforcement control. Instead, sites often fall under the authority of local militias. In this transitional space, individuals are neither rescued nor detained in any official sense; movement is determined by negotiation, access, and payment rather than legal process.
It was under these conditions that Zhao was extracted. His exit was facilitated by power brokers acting as intermediaries, negotiating release through payment and coordination in militia-controlled territory. This was not a police rescue and not a humanitarian extraction. It was a transactional departure, reflecting the realities of non-state control in post-crackdown zones. Zhao is now on his way back to China, closing a chapter that unfolded publicly for more than a year but was fundamentally misunderstood for much of that time.
Zhao's case exposes a difficult truth about the scam-compound ecosystem and the social media environment surrounding it. A person can become widely known online while the actual situation remains misrepresented. Families amplify names to keep hope alive, platforms reward repetition over verification, and narratives solidify long before facts are confirmed. In the end, this story is not only about disappearance and return, but about the distance between virality and reality — and how long that distance can persist.



