(Minghui.org) At the end of 2000, a fellow practitioner was persecuted for distributing truth-clarifying materials. After she implicated me, I was arrested and taken to the police station. To resist the persecution, I refused to cooperate or provide any statements and began a hunger strike in protest.
Two days passed, and I became anxious, wondering, "What happened to my fellow practitioners and the material production site? I can’t stay here." Silently, I pleaded, “Master, I want to get out. I can’t be locked up here.”
As night settled in, the police officers gradually left their shifts, leaving only two auxiliary officers to guard me. I figured it was time to go. I swung the handcuffs hard, and they snapped open. Tossing them aside, I hurried to the gate. When I tugged at the large iron gate, it swung open effortlessly and I walked out.
When I reached the main gate, the two auxiliary officers saw me leaving and didn’t try to stop me. Instead, they followed me, pleading, “If you leave, I’ll be laid off. My child is in high school, and my wife has also been laid off. If you leave, both of us will be out of work.”
At that time, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) was spreading malicious rumors and slandering Falun Dafa, poisoning the minds of people everywhere. I didn’t want others to develop negative thoughts about the practice and risk losing their jobs because of me. After a moment’s hesitation, I walked back into the interrogation room on my own, closed the iron door, picked up the handcuffs from the floor, and cuffed myself.
To avoid affecting the officers, I pretended that none of this had ever happened. In my heart, I said to Master, “Master, it’s so hard to choose!” At that moment, I truly felt Master’s loving gaze upon me as He smiled—just for a fleeting instant.
They stood guard outside the door as I spent the entire night sharing the beauty and wonder of Falun Dafa with them, recounting my personal experiences and the profound benefits I had gained through cultivation.
After hearing this, they rushed to the supermarket, bought drinks and cake and offered them to me, urging, “Young lady, eat something. Otherwise, how will you have the strength to fight the police?” Hearing this, I laughed and said, “Thank you for your kindness. I’m on a hunger strike to protest their unreasonable persecution. I’ve never considered fighting the police.”
On the third morning, the police escorted me to an office building within the Municipal Public Security Bureau. Each floor was secured by a locked metal door at the entrance of the stairwell. On the third floor, we entered an office furnished with three beds—one for me, and two for the officers tasked to monitor me. The police maintained constant surveillance, rotating shifts to ensure I was never alone.
I shared my personal cultivation journey with them. The two officers listened silently—one sat stone-faced, while the other’s eyes glistened as if on the verge of tears. Midway through, the expressionless officer stepped out for a meal. Seizing the moment, I told the officer who stayed behind, “Don’t feel sad. I appreciate your kindness. I’ll be fine.”
She glanced toward the door and, leaning closer, whispered, “I’m a fellow practitioner.” Hearing this was an unexpected delight—five days of tension instantly melted away. I confided, “I need to leave this place.” She asked, “How do you plan to get out?”
Surrounded by metal gates and six male police officers, escape seemed impossible. On this floor, the only unlocked window was in the bathroom, but its bars were welded firmly in place. The practitioner checked and confirmed the bars couldn’t be pried open without tools.
In my heart, I pleaded, “Master, please grant me a master key.” The moment I had this thought, a small object suddenly fell from the ceiling. I quickly picked it up and examined it—but it was not a key. My fellow practitioner was amazed. How could something have fallen from the ceiling? It must have been from Master!
She suggested, “Why don’t I try prying the bars?” At mealtime, she slipped outside and returned shortly after. From her expression, I knew it had worked! Master had orchestrated everything step by step, waiting only for me. My heart overflowed with joy. Thank you, Master!
Initially, I felt a pang of regret. The practitioner tossed out the master key I had obtained from Master, which I had thought about keeping as a souvenir. In hindsight, I understand that the practitioner’s decision was wise. Holding onto it would have definitely increased my attachments.
That afternoon, another female officer had family matters and couldn’t work the night shift, so she left early at 6 p.m., leaving only the practitioner and me. I sensed this was Master’s painstaking arrangement! As I reflected on my impending freedom, I felt a mix of excitement and concern for my fellow practitioner's situation, which made me hesitate.
The practitioner said anxiously, “Don’t worry about me. Your safety is our top priority. Even without a job, I can still support myself. If need be, I’ll just set up a small stall or fry doughnuts—I’ll manage.”
I am filled with mixed emotions. In today’s materialistic world, it is all too common for people to fight over petty gains, with even many relatives turning against one another for profit. Yet my fellow practitioner—a stranger I met by chance—selflessly set aside her future, career, and interests solely for my safety, making my escape possible.
Master said,
“From now on, whatever you do, you should consider others first, so as to attain the righteous Enlightenment of selflessness and altruism.” (“Non-Omission in Buddha-Nature.” Essentials For Further Advancement)
Late at night, as the room was still and we feigned sleep, the two officers on duty pushed the door open, looked in, then quietly closed it behind them and went off to sleep. I checked the time; it was a little after one in the morning, so it was time to leave. We hugged each other and said, "Goodbye, take care!”
I stood at the window, gazing into the pitch-black night; there wasn’t a single light in sight. As I was up on the third floor, I had no idea what lay below. In my heart, I cried out, “Master, I’m about to jump. Please catch me!” Summoning my courage, I climbed up onto the windowsill and jumped. The moment I landed with a loud “bang,” all the surrounding sensor lights lit up.
Before I could even stand, an old man appeared out of thin air, skidding to a stop right in front of me on his electric tricycle and calling out, “Young lady, hop on!” His crisp, decisive voice left me no time to think. I quickly jumped on and told him where I needed to go. Without another word, he sped off, leaving the chaotic scene behind.
How could this old man appear in the Public Security Bureau parking lot in the middle of the night in the middle of winter? It was incredible. We quickly arrived at our destination—so quickly that I didn’t even have time to thank him, nor did I see his face clearly, let alone ask why he was there. The old man vanished just as mysteriously as he had arrived, leaving no trace behind.
I stood beneath the apartment building, uncertain which floor or door belonged to the five displaced practitioners temporarily staying there. As I gazed upward, a light flickered on in a fourth-floor window. Two familiar faces appeared, watching me from above and urging me to quickly climb the stairs. Even after my seven-day hunger strike, I felt energetic and had no discomfort.
Seeing me, everyone’s faces lit up with joy. I asked in surprise, “How did you know I was coming?” They replied, “Just now, the little alarm clock fell on the floor and woke us all up. We turned on the light but found nothing unusual. For some reason, we felt compelled to open the window and look out—and there you were, standing below, gazing up at us.” Compassionate and magnificent Master had every step meticulously arranged for his disciple.
I shared every detail of my seven-day ordeal with fellow practitioners, describing Master’s ingenious arrangements, the wonder of Dafa, and its miraculous manifestations. Everyone listened with rapt attention. Seeing my emaciated figure, fellow practitioners wiped away tears of heartache. The entire experience unfolded like a play, each moment interlocking with the next—both thrilling and intense.
What precious memories and unforgettable years! I still remember the practitioners with whom we once shared our days together— each of us driven out from our hometowns and illegally incarcerated because of the persecution. Dafa united our hearts, forging a lasting bond that connects us always.
I bow deeply to my great and benevolent Master, who has graciously allowed me—a being burdened by karma and as ordinary as dust—to become a particle of Dafa and bathe in the boundless grace of Buddha.
I express my deepest gratitude to my fellow practitioners. I am fortunate to have shared this splendid chapter with you in this magnificent Fa-rectification period of the human world.
Views expressed in this article represent the author's own opinions or understandings. All content published on this website are copyrighted by Minghui.org. Minghui will produce compilations of its online content regularly and on special occasions.
