(Minghui.org) Time passes by fast. Looking back on my more than 20 years of cultivation practice, I feel a surge of emotions: from the joy of starting to practice Falun Dafa, to validating the Fa at Tiananmen Square when the persecution began, from remaining steadfast during the persecution, to my gradual maturation in cultivation. Every scene replays itself in my mind like a movie, or like a snapshot, frozen in time.
I was held in a detention center for remaining steadfast in my belief in Falun Dafa. One early morning, close to the Chinese New Year, my name was called in the hallway. It turned out that I, along with several other practitioners, was to be taken to a labor camp.
That winter was unusually cold. The van we were in had windows covered in thick frost, completely blocking the view outside. Occasionally, I leaned forward and stretched my neck just enough to glimpse at part of the outside through the front windshield. The overwhelming impression was white—white snow, white frost. Even the air seemed to be frozen white.
The van swayed as it drove, and no one spoke. Our hearts felt heavy. The police did not follow legal procedures, as we should have been allowed to see our families before being taken to the labor camp. We all knew the labor camps were brutal, but didn’t know what dangers lay ahead. I moved closer to the other practitioners and softly recited Master Li’s teachings to them. At that moment, only Master’s Fa could help us let go of all distractions and stay on the righteous path in our cultivation.
Suddenly, the van braked, and everyone jolted forward. I was shocked to see my husband standing in front of the van, holding our four-year-old child in his arms. It was freezing, and he had likely been waiting there for a long time. Frost had formed around the edges of his hair. Though my child was bundled up, his eyebrows, the corners of his eyes, nose, and cheeks were red from the cold. Even his woolen hat was frosted over. My husband’s eyes were red, and my child’s timid expression pierced my heart. I hadn’t seen my child for so long, and tears began streaming down my face uncontrollably.
My husband rushed to the van door and quickly handed me a letter, but the female guard from the detention center snatched it away and slammed the door shut. I instinctively stood up, only to be forced back down by the guards. I stood up again, but they pushed me back into the seat. It was a heartbreaking farewell—we were so close, yet unable to say a single word. In the confusion, we managed to scrape a small patch of frost off the window with our fingernails. Through that tiny spot, we silently looked at each other with unspoken words.
I had learned that my husband had been seeking help everywhere, trying to get me released. As the van was about to leave, I wanted to tell my husband not to bribe those involved in persecuting Falun Dafa just to get me home sooner. I knew they wouldn’t dare release someone who refused to give up cultivation. But there was no chance to speak, and we weren’t allowed to talk.
The van started moving, and that precious moment slipped away without me having spoken a single word. In desperation, I shouted to my husband, “Don’t look for help. Even if you do, I won’t come back!” All my thoughts were condensed into this one seemingly ridiculous sentence. The driver laughed, the guards in the van laughed, but the other practitioners understood what I meant. I just wanted my husband to know my mindset, to understand my unwavering determination to practice Dafa, so he might give up on the idea of paying someone to get me released.
My husband knew me well. After the guard had read my husband’s letter, she handed it to me. The letter mainly expressed his concern that I would face brutal persecution for refusing to give up my belief. He gently urged me not to be too stubborn, though he lacked confidence in his own advice because he knew me too well.
The van was moving faster and faster, and I could no longer see my husband and child. But the image of my husband walking away holding our child lingered, like a picture frozen in time.
A Police Officer with a Conscience
One evening in the fall of that year, two practitioners and I went out to hang truth-clarification banners to help people understand the truth about Dafa. Just as we were about to finish and head home, several police officers suddenly emerged from the shadows. Without listening to our explanations, they tried to arrest us and take us to the police station. Seeing no other option, I seized the moment and ran.
I ran as fast as I could, with an officer chasing after me, shouting for me to stop. I ignored him and kept running, thinking that I couldn’t just wait to be persecuted—it wouldn’t be good for him either. As I ran, there was suddenly a dead end. It was a bridge still under construction, with stagnant water below and railings on both sides. The bridge was only half complete, with barriers blocking the middle. There was no other way out. I couldn’t jump into the water, so I turned around and found myself face-to-face with the officer.
It was late at night, and there were no streetlights. Although we were close, we couldn’t clearly see each other’s faces. I wanted to explain the truth about Dafa to him, but there wasn’t enough time, as there were other officers in the chase. If he wanted to stop me, I wouldn’t be able to get away. I said, “Young man, do something good. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
I didn’t say it in a pleading tone, but rather with righteous conviction. He hesitated and replied, “What?” Seizing the moment, I quickly passed him and started running again. I didn’t look back and just kept running with all my might. At first, I could hear his footsteps, but gradually, the sound faded. I spotted a pond about six meters down a slope ahead. And without thinking too much, I slid down and hid in the grass on the slope between the road and the pond, holding my breath, with an audibly pounding heart.
I stayed there for a long time, until I sensed there were no sounds above. I slowly crawled up the embankment and peeked around. It was completely quiet, with no one around. I then climbed out of the grass and started running again.
After running a short distance, a bright light ahead was coming in my direction. It was a car’s headlights, a police vehicle. I tensed up again. This was the only road home, and the surrounding area was all rice fields. I slowed my pace, pretending to be blinded by the headlights and used the opportunity to half-cover my face. The car moved slowly, and I steadied myself, acting as if I was unhurried. Once the vehicle passed, I looked back to make sure it had gone away, and only then did I breathe a sigh of relief and start running again.
I later found out that the patrol car had been called by the police to pick up the other two practitioners. We had been hanging the banners near a riverbank, where there were no cars, so they had called for backup. To avoid persecution, I didn’t go home that night. The community gate guard later told me that the police had staked out my building the whole night. I had to leave my hometown and live away from home, while the other two practitioners were given three years of forced labor.
The entire experience was like a scene from a movie. I was so close to being caught and wrongfully imprisoned, yet I narrowly escaped. That police officer initially chased me with full intent, but after I said those words to him, he hesitated, and his conscience stirred momentarily.
It’s like the story of the judge who was prosecuting guards stationed at the Berlin Wall and spoke about raising the gun barrel by one centimeter to fire a shot—as failing to follow an order is punishable, but missing a target is not. This is a moral responsibility one must take on. Conscience exists beyond the law! That officer made the choice of failing to catch me based on his conscience, and in doing so, he chose a good future for himself.
Remaining Steadfast
I watched the movie Once We Were Divine. When Song Guangming was forced to write a guarantee statement, my heart tightened like those of the heavenly beings who feared he might falter under pressure. I couldn’t hold back my tears when Xiaofeng showed Master’s lectures to Song Guangming. The divine beings then breathed a sigh of relief, and the heavenly world shone brightly once again. This brought back memories of my own bitter, unforgettable experience in the dark den of the detention center.
The guards colluded with criminal inmates to humiliate me in every possible way. They beat me, verbally abused me, deprived me of sleep, and didn’t let me wear warm clothes. It felt like I had fallen into a human hell. Because I refused to give up my belief, they didn’t allow my family to visit me. My husband, desperate to see me, sought help everywhere. The authorities, hoping that he could convince me to give in, made an exception and allowed us to meet.
I couldn’t stop crying when I saw my husband after such a long separation. I was weak, and my spirit was worn down by the prolonged detention and cruel persecution. My husband held my hands after seeing my disheveled appearance, pale face, and poor physical condition. He was a man who never begged or apologized, but he knelt and pleaded before me so I would give in and obtain an early release. Despite my tears, my heart remained unwavering in my faith. In the end, seeing their goal was not achieved, the guards angrily sent me back to my cell.
In fact, my husband has always supported my practice because he witnessed the great changes in both my temperament and health after I started cultivating in Dafa. Under pressure, he hoped that I could pretend to give up just to come home.
Master’s grace is unforgettable, and no words can fully express my gratitude for His salvation. How could I betray Master and Dafa for my own selfish benefit? That was something I could never do. No matter how difficult, the path I had chosen was one I would walk to the end.
Looking back, I am filled with emotion. The steadfastness I maintained in my faith during those difficult times now seems even more precious. A magnificent divine being descended to the human world, becoming an ordinary person. Yet my every action and every thought stirs the beings of all heavenly realms.
Over 20 years have passed, and in this time that seems both long and short, the trials, joys, and hardships on the path of cultivation could fill volumes. Those seemingly ordinary experiences, when recalled and written down, reveal extraordinary moments.
If one day in the future, my descendants reflect on the events of today and ask what I did during the time when Falun Dafa was slandered and persecuted, I can proudly tell them: In the face of persecution and under extreme pressure, I was once afraid, and fearful, but I never wavered—I kept standing tall and unyielding!
Master said,
“When this page of history is turned, the people who remain will see your magnificence, and the future gods will forever remember this magnificent time in history.” (“Rationality”, Essentials for Further Advancement II)
I simply wish to record these moments, to document the bits and pieces of my cultivation, to bear witness to the history of Falun Dafa’s spread across the globe, and to record this great historical period shaped by Master and the Fa. During this time, Dafa practitioners are performing a grand play in human history, composing the most magnificent chapter of all time.
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