Interview with a Chinese Businessman Kidnapped in the Philippines: The Only Known Survivor Among Over 100 Cases - And His First Encounter with Crypto

In this episode of WuBlockchain Podcast, K vividly recounts how he was kidnapped in the Philippines and eventually freed. Out of more than 100 abductions in the country in 2022, K was one of the very few victims to make it out alive. His case involved local Filipino kidnappers, a Chinese criminal syndicate, and a bodyguard who betrayed him from within. K explains how he remained calm under blindfolds, endured electric shocks, burns, and repeated threats, and negotiated for survival — ultimately securing his freedom by paying a ransom in USDT (Tether). He later cooperated with the police to help dismantle the kidnapping ring. His ordeal sheds light on the dark criminal networks behind the surge of kidnappings targeting Chinese nationals in the region — and he shares crucial safety lessons based on firsthand experience.

Audio was transcribed using GPT and may contain inaccuracies. The content represents the guest’s personal account and does not reflect the official views of WuBlockchain. Listen to the full episode:

YouTube:

Spotify: https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/7qfkmlvhrl8/episodes/EP-65--K2022-e33j7ec

What follows is K’s firsthand account:

I moved to the Philippines nearly eight years ago for business — specifically to run nickel mining operations on a contract basis. After the incident, I shut down my company and stepped away from mining altogether. I needed a new path forward, so I turned to cryptocurrency investment. It’s a space where you don’t need to be in the spotlight or attend public functions. Ever since the kidnapping, I’ve withdrawn from my old social circles. The industry is small — everyone knows what happened to me.

On the morning of December 12, 2022, around 10 a.m., my bodyguard — who also acted as my driver — was supposed to take me to a business meeting. I had been sitting at a café near my house, but since the meeting was scheduled for 11, I waited until 10 to leave.

That bodyguard was a local Filipino we hired via a Philippine job site. Our HR department handled the hire, with no background checks or guarantees, and frankly, the guy was unreliable.

That morning he dropped my son off at school as usual — thankfully, they didn’t go after my kid. Then he came back to pick me up. I told him we didn’t need to stop by the office and to just head straight to the meeting around 10. Later, police reviewed surveillance footage and discovered that as early as 7 a.m., members of the kidnapping crew had already been lying in wait at the main road outside our compound. Clearly, someone had tipped them off ahead of time.

Right after our car left the compound, it abruptly stopped. Two men in construction worker uniforms jumped into the backseat on either side, pinning me in the middle. They slapped a hood over my head, handcuffed me, and the car sped off. At some point, they switched vehicles and moved me to a different location. I ended up being held captive for six full days — from December 12 to 18.

I stayed calm. This wasn’t a revenge hit — it was a kidnapping. They wanted money, not blood. So I cooperated and asked them, “What do you want?” They said, “We just need money.” I pleaded, “Please don’t kill me,” and they kept me hooded and cuffed the entire time.

Initially, I only interacted with Filipino captors who spoke to me in English and repeatedly reassured me, “We’re not going to kill you — we just want the money.” Later, they started going through my phone and asked for the passcode. I complied without resistance. I believe my bodyguard had already fed them all the relevant information about me.

I could hear him throughout — he was present the entire time. I recognized his voice clearly: the way he coughed, even the sound of him smoking. That’s when it hit me — he was in on it.

I remained blindfolded the entire six days, which gave me some hope. From what I understand, if hostages see the kidnappers’ faces, they usually don’t live to describe them.

Time and again, they told me, “We’re not going to hurt you. Just give us the money.” I played the part — acted weak and pitiful — and did everything they said. Because of that, they barely beat me.

They tried to gag me early on, but I gagged as if I were about to vomit. Worried I’d choke and die, they removed the gag. After a while, someone switched to speaking to me in Hokkien and Mandarin, saying things like: “We just want money. Do you have USDT (Tether)?” But I had never used crypto before. They checked my phone and realized there were no crypto wallets or trading apps installed. That convinced them I wasn’t lying.

They told me to call a friend and claim I owed him money, so he’d transfer funds. I agreed and chose a major mining client from my contact list — a real big shot.

When I got him on the line, I switched to Hokkien and said bluntly, “Sir, I’ve been kidnapped — please get help!” He got it — he’s from Putian. After the call, the kidnappers scolded me for using the word “kidnapped.” They insisted I say I was “in debt” instead, for future calls.

Then they asked me to call my wife. I couldn’t remember her number offhand, so they scrolled through my contacts until they found her. I told her, “I’ve been kidnapped, but don’t panic. They won’t kill me. Just pay them.” I also urged her to contact Mr. Huang and Mr. Cai for help.

I was speaking in a mix of Hokkien, Fujianese, and Mandarin — which confused the kidnappers, especially the ring leaders, a Chinese man and woman, who only partially understood what I was saying. They suspected I was trying to get help but couldn’t fully stop me.

Mr. Cai was the supplier for our fleet of trucks. At the time, we had purchased 100 heavy-duty trucks and 10 excavators. The launch event was huge — so much so that the mayor attended. That extravagance probably led the bodyguard to believe I was hugely wealthy — and made me a target.

My wife acted fast and immediately contacted the authorities. Throughout the kidnapping, she and I had multiple phone calls — with officers from the Philippine National Police’s Anti-Kidnapping Group monitoring every call in real-time. The Chinese consulate was involved too. Without their support, the police likely wouldn’t have taken action. In 2022 alone, the Philippines saw more than 100 kidnapping cases — averaging one every three days. Over 90% of the victims were Chinese, mostly linked to gambling operations. But I was in legal mining. People vouched for me. That helped mobilize a real response.

I was a member of the Philippine Mining Association, and I had a clean record. Once the police verified that, they were willing to deploy resources — especially with Christmas coming and the government eager to maintain stability.

They assigned four officers to guard my family around the clock in rotating shifts and relocated them to a secure location. Every call between me and my wife was logged, monitored, and coached by trained negotiators.

Over the first few days, conversations focused primarily on the ransom. The kidnappers initially demanded $100 million USD. I told them, “You do realize how big 100 million is, right? Not even a Philippine bank has that kind of cash!” Little by little, we negotiated — via WhatsApp and voice-altered calls — until we brought it down from $100 million to $50 million, then $20 million, and finally to a figure both sides could accept.

By Thursday afternoon — Day 4 — we had a deal. I was abducted on Monday. It was agreed that my wife would arrange for the ransom payment.

What happened next felt straight out of a crime thriller. The police deployed four or five squad cars and launched a major operation at a hotel in Manila, securing a five-kilometer perimeter. My wife, escorted by armed officers, went alone to withdraw a massive bag of cash from the bank.

Under police protection, she delivered the money to the hotel — surrounded at every turn by plainclothes officers. The scene was surreal — something out of Infernal Affairs.

In a VIP lounge at the hotel, set up by the police, they made the final exchange: the cash was converted to USDT (Tether) and transferred to the kidnappers. Once they confirmed receipt of the crypto, they initiated my release.

She made the crypto exchange inside 9 Dynasty Casino, which had long worked with the gang to help them launder funds. That casino has since been shut down, and the owner is now a fugitive.

Before transferring the funds, my wife called to ask, “Are you sure we should go through with this?” I, seated in front of the kidnappers, answered, “I believe they’ll let me go once they get the money.” She sent the USDT. Once they confirmed receipt, they told me, “We’re all set — you’ll be released tonight.”

We thought it was over, but then they asked for more money, claiming too many members needed a cut. I told them, “I understand, but first you have to let me go.” My wife had already emptied every fund she could access. I explained, “I’m the only one authorized to move the rest of our money — my signature is required.” They were suspicious. I reminded them of the assets I had: my company, the mining sites, all the trucks. “Where exactly would I run to?” After more negotiation, bluffing, and playing it cool, they reluctantly agreed to let me go.

Over the six days, I tried to read them. The first two days were rough — they used stun guns and heated coils to threaten me, even scratched my chest with a knife to scare me — but there was no real torture. Later, they gave me fried chicken, cup noodles, and beef bowls. By Day 3, the physical abuse had mostly stopped. Some of the Filipinos keeping watch even seemed like they wanted to let me escape.

Interestingly, the kidnappers were split into two factions: one loyal to my bodyguard, the other to the Chinese ringleaders. It created a power balance. I tried to exploit that and quietly offered the Filipinos under my bodyguard’s faction money if they helped me escape. They were tempted, but the Chinese boss had my phone, so they couldn’t follow through.

On Day 1, they threatened to cut off my fingers if no payment came within 12 hours. I begged to make a call. They allowed it, but 12 hours passed — and nothing happened. I realized they were bluffing. Same later: knives at my neck, crackling stun batons, even fake guns with empty clicks. I thought, “They’re not actually going to kill me.”

So I stayed humble and cooperative, always agreeing to the ransom demands. One kidnapper even said, “You’re easy to work with — we like that.” They believed I was sincere and willing to pay. Ransom was paid on Day 4, and by Day 6, they were prepping to release me.

That night, they gave me a dated, GPS-free Nokia phone, added in a fresh SIM card, and even returned my old SIM, sealed in plastic. One of them applied ointment to a few wounds — maybe to prevent bleeding before I got out.

Around 9:30 p.m., they loaded me blindfolded into a Toyota, placing me between two men. Though my hands were free, they held me tightly. After a long, winding drive, the car stopped. They helped me out, steadied me on my feet, and said: “Don’t move. Don’t take off the hood. Don’t look back.” I said okay. Then I heard the car door close and the engine drive away.

I lifted my blindfold — and saw light for the first time in six days. It was already dark. I found myself alone in a grassy field in a remote area of Cavite, near a Philippine gaming zone.

I checked my hoodie pocket — there was a phone. They’d dressed me in new clothes; previously I’d been stripped. I followed the streetlights to a market where vendors were closing up shop. I saw a couple on a motorcycle and asked for help in English. They kindly helped me connect with my wife on Facebook, dropped her a message, and sent my location.

The guy even asked if I needed money — I said yes — and he gave me 100 pesos. I used it to buy a Coke. That Coke kept me alive. I felt like it gave me just enough energy to last the night.

Then my phone buzzed. A message from my wife. The kidnappers had notified her I was free. She called me: “Where are you?” I said, “I don’t know.” She said, “I have your location. I’ve called the police — we’re on our way.” And I broke down. That’s when I knew she had really asked for help.

I waited there alone until my wife and the police arrived. They immediately escorted me to Philippine National Police Quezon Headquarters.

There, in the conference room, over 30 officers were waiting — senior investigators, anti-kidnapping squad leaders, department heads. They gave me food and water and began recording my statement, which continued into the early morning hours.

They then took me to forensics for a full exam, photos, and evidence collection. I was given the option of a public or private hospital — and chose private. The police handled all the arrangements. As soon as we pulled in, doctors and nurses in white coats were waiting outside with a wheelchair. Straight into the ER — oxygen, ECGs, triage. It felt like something out of a movie.

The incident happened just before Christmas. For stability, police kept everything quiet and promised to protect me.

I stayed in the hospital for six days. Underwent two surgeries — treating burns and deep bruises from shackles and handcuffs. Officers were stationed outside 24/7. After I returned home, police continued guarding my residence in rotating shifts for more than a month.

I kept cooperating with the investigation. They eventually tracked down my bodyguard in May. He had gone into hiding but was arrested and gave up the gang’s number two. Police launched long-term surveillance and made additional arrests.

The last time I testified in court was November or December, right before the holidays. The case is officially in legal proceedings now. The key suspects remain in custody, but no final verdict has been reached yet.

During those six days, I purposely avoided using the bathroom. I wanted to look as miserable as possible — to play the part. I had read about how prisoners are humiliated — so I urinated on the floor and rolled around in it to appear utterly broken. After a few times, the captors couldn’t stand the smell. They told me to let them know next time. From Day 3, they began helping me urinate into a cup. My goal was to extract any sliver of empathy I could.

Police first caught the bodyguard, and six months later, they captured one of the Filipino aides to the group’s real boss — a Chinese man known as “Andy Lau” (not the Hong Kong actor). After that arrest, police raided the aide’s home and found a huge stash of firearms and luxury vehicles.

Apparently, Andy Lau had promised the bodyguard a 1% cut of the ransom — but never paid up. Feeling betrayed, the bodyguard cooperated with authorities and gave up Lau’s inner circle.

At first, Andy Lau hired lawyers to help the arrested individuals recant their confessions — reportedly spending close to $1 million. But then he stopped paying legal fees altogether. From that point on, no one came to their defense. They remain in detention with sentencing still pending.

Very few survive kidnappings in the Philippines. Police told me this: of over 100 recorded cases in 2022, I was the only known release. In 2023, again more than 100 cases — zero known survivors. Entire families have been executed. Across hundreds of incidents since 2022, fewer than five people got out alive — that’s less than 1%.

Not seeing their faces was key. Even the officers were skeptical: “How did you not see them for six days?” But it was true. At first, they thought I’d faked the whole ordeal — but I honestly never saw their faces.

In court, many questions focused on that: “If you didn’t see anyone, how can you ID them?” But I had a strong sense they wouldn’t kill me. If they’d wanted to, they could’ve at any second. Many hostages die when their families argue or threaten too much.

My wife and I were cooperative the whole way. We never pushed back. We just kept reinforcing: “You want money? We’ll pay.” I kept telling them, “I have a family, a business, employees — how would I possibly run?” That attitude and careful negotiation saved my life.

During the first hearing, the gang’s number two confessed that the boss was Andy Lau. Reports later confirmed the man in the couple arrested was indeed “Andy Lau” — and the woman was someone known as “Li Na” (not the tennis player). He had been in Hong Kong or China earlier, but later returned to the Philippines and continued running kidnappings. They were all Chinese.

At the end of the day, I was targeted because the bodyguard believed I was wealthy. He’d seen the massive truck launch event we held in Davao — even city mayors came. From there, he pitched me as a mark to his old colleague, the number two. Both of them had worked as bodyguards for Chinese business owners — and when the number two ran out of “jobs,” my bodyguard sold me out.

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