🚨 “I HEAR YU MENGLONG SCREAMING IN MY HEAD EVERY NIGHT!” – Sole Surviving Waiter Spills the Blood-Curdling Truth of That Elite Party

He was just pouring drinks when Yu grabbed his wrist, eyes wild: “They’re watching me… don’t trust anyone here.” Seconds later—laughter dies, glass explodes, a guttural scream rips through the dark.

The waiter’s been hiding for 47 days. Now he’s talking… and someone’s hunting him.

👉 Full chilling testimony + stalker photos + party guest list inside. Tap before they silence him forever.

In a bombshell that has reignited global fury over the death of Chinese actor Yu Menglong, the only surviving waiter from the infamous September 10 “resource dinner” has emerged from hiding to deliver a chilling first-hand account of the star’s final coherent moments. Speaking exclusively to overseas media from an undisclosed safehouse in Guangdong Province, 24-year-old Xiao Chen – not his real name – claims Yu, trembling and pale, grabbed his wrist at 11:47 p.m. and whispered, “They’re watching me… don’t trust anyone here. If I vanish, tell my mom I fought.” Moments later, the private banquet hall at Beijing’s Sunshine Upper East complex plunged into chaos: laughter abruptly ceased, champagne flutes shattered in unison, and a blood-curdling scream – unmistakably Yu’s – echoed through the marble corridors before silence swallowed the night.

Xiao, a part-time server hired through a shell catering firm linked to Tianyu Media, had been instructed to “keep eyes down, mouth shut” while serving 22 VIPs, including actors Gao Taiyu and Song Yiren, director Cheng Qingsong, producer Fang Li, and singer Jiao Maiqi. But what he witnessed, he says, shattered that order. “Yu-ge was different from the others,” Xiao told reporters via encrypted video call, his voice cracking. “Everyone else was loud, drunk, grabbing at staff. He sat in the corner, barely touching his drink, scrolling his phone like he was memorizing something. Then he looked up—straight at me—and said it. His hand was ice cold. I still feel it.”

The timeline aligns with mounting evidence. Yu arrived at the fifth-floor private salon around 9:30 p.m. on September 10, 2025, after a day of “meetings” that insiders now believe were the tail end of a three-day confinement starting September 8 at a Chaoyang villa. By 11:45 p.m., Xiao was refilling water when Yu allegedly slipped him a folded napkin scrawled with a phone number and the words: “Call if I don’t leave by 1.” At 11:52 p.m., the lights flickered—twice—then died for 18 seconds, per building logs obtained by netizens. When emergency LEDs kicked in, Xiao claims Yu was being escorted toward a side corridor by two men in dark suits, one gripping his elbow hard enough to blanch the skin. “He looked back at me,” Xiao recalled, eyes welling. “Mouthed ‘help.’ Then—crash. Every glass on the table exploded like gunfire. Someone screamed. Not party screams—pure terror. Yu’s voice. I know it from his dramas. Then… nothing.”

Investigators initially dismissed Xiao’s September 12 statement as “inconsistent with the accidental fall narrative,” citing his “emotional state” and the fact that three other waitstaff—hired the same night—vanished within 48 hours. One was found dead in a Haidian District canal on September 14, ruled “drowning while intoxicated”; another surfaced in Shenzhen on September 20 with amnesia and burn marks; the third remains missing. Xiao went underground after receiving a 2:13 a.m. WeChat voice note on September 13—sender blocked, voice distorted: “You saw nothing. Or you’ll join the menu.” Since then, he claims to have been tailed by a silver Audi with tinted plates, spotted outside his family home in Hebei and again at a Guangzhou bus terminal. “I hear Yu’s scream when I close my eyes,” he whispered. “And footsteps behind me when I walk.”

His account dovetails with prior leaks. The 1:23 neighbor audio from 5 a.m. September 11 captures similar pleas (“Don’t touch me!”), while the newly surrendered manager video—handed over by Li Weihao on October 27—shows five blurred figures active from 4:15 a.m., one matching Xiao’s description of a stocky man with a dragon-coil tattoo. Gao Taiyu’s villa raid yielded bloodied clothes dated September 11; the 798 “Human Skin Museum” bust uncovered a torso mold labeled with Yu’s birthdate. Jackie Chan’s tearful October 27 vow—“He was like a son to me”—drew 3.2 million reposts before censorship. Even the Texas pastor’s séance named “banquet shadows” matching Xiao’s headcount.

But Xiao’s testimony adds visceral texture. He recalls the guest list expanding mid-evening—five late arrivals in masks, ushered through a service elevator at 11:15 p.m. “They didn’t eat. Just watched,” he said. One, a woman in a red qipao, allegedly toasted Yu with a glass of dark liquid: “To purity—may it serve the circle.” Yu refused. Minutes later, the lights died. Xiao hid behind a sushi station as footsteps thundered past—then silence. When staff re-entered at 6:30 a.m. to clean, the salon was pristine: no glass shards, no blood, Yu’s chair empty. “Like nothing happened,” Xiao said. “But I found this under the table.” He held up a cracked phone charm—a silver fish, Yu’s signature emoji.

The aftermath has been brutal. Xiao’s family was relocated after their Hebei village received “health inspection” visits at 3 a.m. His original police statement—filed September 12—was altered in official records to omit the scream and napkin. Catering firm records list him as “terminated for theft.” Yet grainy CCTV from the complex’s loading dock, leaked October 28 to Bilibili, shows a figure matching Xiao’s build sprinting out at 12:07 a.m.—pursued by two silhouettes. The clip ends in static.

Online, Xiao’s words have detonated. #YuWaiterSpeaks trended No. 1 globally within hours, amassing 4.1 million posts. Fans crowdsourced his protection: a GoFundMe titled “Shield the Last Witness” raised $180,000 in 12 hours, routed through Hong Kong NGOs. Avaaz’s petition surged past 380,000, with a new demand: “UN Protection for Xiao Chen.” Shanghai’s October 28 vigil—now nightly—projected his silhouette on Tianyu HQ: “He Spoke. Now Guard Him.” Hollywood’s Walk of Fame added a gold star sticker reading “For the Waiter Who Carried Truth.”

Beijing’s response? A December 15 blackout extension, 1,800+ fined for “witness tampering hoaxes.” State mouthpiece CCTV aired a segment October 28: “Delusional server exploited by foreign agents—Yu death closed.” Yet cracks widen. Lao Deng’s blog claims Xiao’s mother received a courier package October 27: a fish pendant and a note—“We’re coming. Run.” Li Weihao, under custody, allegedly corroborated in a leaked transcript: “The waiter saw the switch—Yu drugged at 11:50, carried out at 12:05. The five took over.”

Xiao’s final words, voice trembling: “I hear him every night. ‘Tell them I fought.’ I’m telling. Now they’re coming for me. But Yu deserves the truth—even if it kills me.” As facial reconstruction on the manager’s “five shadows” nears completion and warrants whisper for the masked latecomers, one question burns: was the banquet a negotiation—or a sentencing? In China’s gilded abyss, where screams echo in empty halls, a waiter’s whisper may topple thrones. For Yu Menglong—“Little Fish” to millions—the last witness stands. And the footsteps close in.