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Yan Qigui: The pain written on my face

2013-08-02 Source:Kaiwind Author:Narrated by Yan Qigui & Written by Long Yu

My name is Yan Qigui, born in June 1941, and now lives in Jingguan Town, Beibei District, Chongqing City. I’m illiterate all my life, unable to read or write. Years ago, I either toiled daily on a small piece of land our family owned, or fed pigs, did the cooking and household chores. And our family lived in the state of poverty and blankness.


I was a chronic invalid who suffered from asthma for many years and had to take medicine frequently to curb the illness. In August 1998, a neighbor named Zhang Shufen told me that if I practiced Falun Gong my illness would be cured automatically, no need for taking medicine. So I decided to give it a try and began to come into contact with Falun Gong. At the beginning, I was totally ignorant of Falun Gong, and all I could do was to imitate the movements of fellow practitioners and listen to their reading “Zhuan Falun”. Later Zhang Shufen asked me to follow her. She often told me that Master Li was the incarnation of Buddha and he taught us how to be a good person; that we had to cultivate in accordance with the Master's intentions so as to be promoted to higher levels; and that as long as we reached a certain level we would be able to become immortals and reach Consummation.


In July 1999, the Government banned Falun Gong according to law, but I kept going to Zhang Shufen’s home for practicing in a furtive manner. In a rage my husband sold all our four pigs.


In March 2004, my son came back home from Shenzhen where he worked as a migrant worker. Logically, a son’s coming home was a joyful event for the mother. However, I was upset by his returning for fear that it might interrupt my cultivation. So I left him out in the cold and complained about his interruption. My husband said to my son one day: “Your mother practices this damned Gong at home all day long and turns a blind eye to all the other things. Just look at our house, is it still like a home?” I retorted with my face flushed: “Stop slandering my master!” I held the book “Zhuan Falun” in my hands and then opened it, explaining to my son in excitement. But he laughed at me in amusement: “Hi! Mom, you hold your book upside down. How can you practice Gong like this?” I went to my room with resentment, then shut the door, bowed to the Master, and burned three incenses. Later, my son talked to me for four days, trying to dissuade me from practicing Falun Gong. He told me that what Li Hongzhi claimed was nothing more than nonsense; that I had been fooled by his heresy. But I still turned a deaf ear to my son’s words. A week later, my son left home in disappointment, heading for Shenzhen.


April 28, 2007 is the most painful day of my life. At 2 o’clock before daybreak, I burned the incense, lit two red candles, and sat in meditation facing the master’s portrait. Because of long-term staying up and chronic illness, I suddenly fainted during meditation. While I was unconscious, the candles ignited the paper portrait, and the fire spread quickly inside our wooden-structured house. Having gradually regained consciousness after a period, I kept shouting: “Help me Master! Please be quick to help me ...” However, I had seen no trace of the master, let alone the Fashen protection he promised. I was buried in flames, and finally it was my husband who saved my life.


When I woke up in the department of burn at the No.9 Chongqing People’s Hospital, my eyes were covered with thick gauze and I felt waves of terrible pains stinging my face. As I heard the familiar voice of my husband again, I could only swallow my tears and blame myself for never listening to the words of my husband and son.