D1.8 Romance Scams¶
"Outlaw Zhang San" Clone Shares Story 8
"The First Time I Was Called a 'Goddess of Mercy'"
I was supposed to launch my UK Study Abroad Newcomer Guide website in September, but right when I was frantically rushing to meet deadlines, I accidentally came across a week-old chat in a group. After reading it, the chivalrous soul of Zhang San was fired up—and I added her WeChat immediately.
- This sister works in the UK. She originally came with her husband; they worked in different places but shared a room. Their plan was simple yet beautiful: earn enough money in the UK, return to China, and buy a house in their hometown. But as the saying goes, "plans can’t keep up with changes." Her husband, who worked as a chef, had an affair with an international student working part-time at the restaurant. Their relationship heated up so quickly that he moved out of their shared room overnight—leaving all his clothes and belongings behind. The "thrifty, honest, and down-to-earth" man she knew transformed into someone who acted like a wealthy tycoon: he rented an entire small apartment, bought many new clothes, and even got a haircut and perm for the first time. When the sister saw him again, she was shocked. She said, "I wouldn’t have recognized him if he hadn’t called my name."
- For the husband, there was a "silver lining": a marriage registered in China can be dissolved in the UK. Overjoyed, he wanted a divorce immediately, but the sister refused—leading to a stalemate. Since the rental contract was in the husband’s name, he wanted to get the deposit back. However, they had split the rent and deposit equally. Unfortunately, the sister trusted him so much that she often gave him cash for rent, which he then transferred to the landlord—making it hard to prove her share. Worse still, she held a spouse visa (a dependent visa)—the exact type I wrote a guide about yesterday. A divorce would mean she could no longer stay in the UK on this visa. Even if she refused to divorce, the husband could still apply to cancel her visa.
To make matters worse, the sister had sent most of her earnings back to China, keeping only a small amount for living expenses. This left her with little savings in the UK, making it difficult for her to afford a lawyer.
The husband knew her situation well. He contacted the landlord privately to terminate the lease. The landlord, a Vietnamese-Chinese who spoke Chinese, owned several properties in the UK and managed them himself. After learning about the early termination, he started advertising the room for rent—months before the contract expired. He had a key to the room and frequently entered without the sister’s permission to show it to potential tenants. After repeated unauthorized entries, some of her clothes were clearly rummaged through, and she lost a few items that weren’t extremely valuable but weren’t cheap either.
Shishengmiao’s Reminder: If both parties are Chinese and married in China, they can get a divorce in the UK even if they are undocumented (without legal status). However, the original marriage certificate is required. While divorce is possible in the UK, it depends on specific circumstances. Unless it’s an amicable divorce, the process is usually very lengthy.
Under multiple blows, the sister sought help in various Chinese groups—for her visa issue and housing problem. I used my limited thinking to offer a few suggestions. I couldn’t help with her visa directly, as she lacked skills to switch to another visa type. All I could advise was to find ways to prevent the visa from being canceled: negotiate or delay with her husband, frantically look for work, and prepare for either returning to China or overstaying (becoming undocumented). I also suggested she switch to a student visa by enrolling in a low-cost course, such as a certificate or vocational program. Although the certificate wouldn’t be officially recognized in China or eligible for a Graduate Visa extension, it was affordable, allowed her to extend her stay, and permitted legal part-time work—giving her more time in the UK. She declined this suggestion.
Instead, I helped her fight for her rights with the landlord—a minor strength of mine, honed through experience and countless similar cases. We resolved the housing issue: the landlord was required to obtain her consent and ensure she was present before entering the room for viewings. During this period, she also started looking for a new place to live. I suggested she negotiate with the landlord to either keep the current room or take over the lease if her husband terminated it, but she refused—finding the rent too expensive for a single person. Later, through fellow Chinese workers, she secured a spot in a shared house: a property divided into small rooms with partitions, cheap and private.
She was extremely grateful, thanking me repeatedly—almost every other message. She said she was lucky to have met a "female Bodhisattva" (Goddess of Mercy). She told me I listened patiently to her story and helped her carefully. She had no one else to talk to—her parents, relatives, and friends in China still didn’t know about what happened—and sharing it made her feel much better.
Conclusion: People are constantly changing. If you’re in a relationship, you must have the ability to separate at any time—an ability to live well (or even better) after leaving or being left. As the poem goes, "Willow catkins on the branches blow fewer and fewer; there are fragrant grasses everywhere under the sky."
Of course, if you’re the one being left, you’ll inevitably feel pain or discomfort for a period. As the saying goes, "Sweet dreams are always the easiest to wake from." While we know this pain is often an excuse for self-delusion, we can channel these emotions: treat that person as a legitimate "emotional trash can," set a time limit to vent, and then erase them from your world completely. Even if they reappear later, you’ll suddenly laugh—wondering why you ever cared.