My name is Zhang Xiaoqiang (pseudonym), and I run a clothing store in Qixia, Shandong Province. Although the store isn’t very large, it’s a thriving business. Today, I own a house and a car, have a virtuous wife and a well-behaved son, we’re a harmonious family living a contented life. Looking at my happy present, I shudder to think how close I came to going astray and destroying everything I have now.
It was the late spring of 1995,, a time when a “qigong craze”(controlled breathing exercises) swept across China. In Qixia, enterprising locals began inviting self-proclaimed “qigong masters” to host workshops and give lectures, and spiritual gatherings of all sizes sprang up in community halls and open spaces. Falun Gong quickly seized the moment, marketing itself as a powerful form of “qigong”—one that promised not only improved health but also protection from illness and misfortune. Back then, as a curious young man open to new things, I was fascinated by popular trends and dove headfirst into this “qigong craze”.
One day, I heard that Falun Gong was going to organize a “monlam” at a cinema the next day, and best of all, admission was free. The next morning, I rushed over at the crack of dawn and used my youthful energy to push my way to the front of the line, determined to grab a good seat where I could see and hear everything clearly. As soon as the doors opened, the crowd surged forward. I sprinted inside, made a beeline for the front row, and claimed a seat right in the center.
After taking my place, I sat quietly and watched the Falun Gong organizers busily moving chairs and testing microphones on the stage. At that moment, a middle-aged man came down from the stage and asked some young people in the front row to help him carry a large number of Falun Gong books, tapes, manuals, and images of Li Hongzhi from the backstage to the stage. There was so much materials that we had to carry it in several trips. Once we finished, I assumed the materials were free of charge, so I casually picked up a copy of Zhuan Falun. Just then, a Falun Gong staff saw me and hurried to stop me, telling me not to touch anything and saying they would distribute the books to everyone after the lecture.
The "master" who gave the lecture spoke Mandarin tinged with a local accent. He talked animatedly for over two hours, but to be honest, I had little idea what he was actually saying. What stuck with me was what he said at the end: “If you truly want to cultivate Dafa, it’s best to read the books written by the Master and listen to his audio recordings on your own, and go home and study them carefully.” Then he gestured toward the large stack of materials on the stage and added, “We only brought a limited number of materials today. If you’re interested in learning Falun Gong, please line up to receive them one by one. We won’t charge you a single penny. But if you don’t want to leave regrets along your cultivation path, you may put a donation into this merit box in front of me, to show your sincerity. The amount doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you have the heart for true practice. Your Master will be watching from somewhere.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a man around 50 years old rushed onto the stage. He took out 400 yuan from his pocket and threw it into the merit box, then quickly took a book. At this moment, the audience below was completely silent, and everyone was looking up at the stage. About five seconds later, a middle-aged woman went up on stage, and then the audience below started to stir. At first, two or three people went up one after another to donate money. Some donated 100 yuan and took a tape, while others donated 200 yuan and took an image of Li Hongzhi. Perhaps everyone believed the “Master” was watching from somewhere, silently judging their sincerity. No one wanted to appear less devoted than the next person. One after another, people surged toward the stage to make their donations. In the thick of the crowd, one figure stood out—a frail elderly man, swaying unsteadily on his feet, leaning heavily on a crutch as he waited patiently in line. After he went up on stage, he took out a small handkerchief from his pocket, slowly opened it layer by layer. Inside were all banknotes of 10 yuan and 5 yuan. He threw the money into the merit box and then took an image of Li Hongzhi. Meanwhile, the Falun Gong organizers were busy trying to maintain order, urging people to form a line and approach the stage one by one. The person who gave the largest donation brought a thick wad of cash, likely two or three thousand yuan, and tossed it into the box before picking up both a book and a portrait. All the while, the “master” stood nearby, murmuring under his breath, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on the flow of money into the merit box.
I had come to the lecture thinking it was free, so I hadn’t brought any money with me. As the crowd began to thin out and most of the materials had already been handed out, I still lingered and wanted to learn more about Falun Gong. I genuinely hoped that, since I had helped carry the books and supplies earlier, one of the staff might let me take a copy of the book home for free. I thought to myself, as the saying goes, “Those with money contribute money, and those without contribute effort.” If that doesn't work, I can come back tomorrow to donate money. With this thought in mind, I made my way to the backstage.
There was a dressing room in the backstage, and the door was half-open. Through the crack, I saw the organizer of Falun Gong counting the money in the merit box with the “masters” who had just lectured, and what surprised me was that the first man who had donated 400 yuan was also helping to count the money. After counting the thick stacks of money, the head organizer personally handed 500 yuan to the man who had been first to donate. The man wore a broad smile, nodded vigorously, and uttered countless “thank you”. The organizer said, “Here’s another 2,500 yuan donated by our own, I’ll handle returning it to them. From the remaining money, we’ll take out 1,000 yuan for the venue rent, 300 yuan to each person who helped with propaganda, and 1,000 yuan to each of us internal staff”. He then lowered his head, picked up a thick stack from the money pile, and handed it to the “master”, saying, “Master, this is your payment for your efforts. Please take the rest back to the Li Hongzhi, this is our Qixia followers’ filial piety, please say a few words of praise in front of the Li Hongzhi, so as to help us improve our level of practice as soon as possible.” The “master” hurriedly took the money, a faint greedy smile crossing his lips, and began counting it eagerly.
Standing outside the door, I was stunned. Weren’t they claiming it was free? This was clearly a trap—they’d set a trap with planted followers leading the way. It was despicable! Even if the lecture had a normal fee, it wouldn’t cost so much. They were blatantly using the pretence of teaching Dafa to swindle hard-earned money from kind-hearted people, even targeting the elderly.
I was afraid of being seen by them and left in a panic.
Witnessing process of Falun Gong’s financial exploitation and profit-splitting made me deeply realize that Falun Gong is not a legitimate qigong practice but a cult dedicated to defrauding kind-hearted people of their money and deceiving their souls. From then on, I never again mentioned wanting to learn Falun Gong.
After the Chinese government officially banned Falun Gong in 1999 in accordance with the law, their scandalous were exposed. Rational people broke free from the cult’s scam and voluntarily handed over or burned books and other materials. Their so-called monlam and lectures vanished.
Although Falun Gong’s sophistry can temporarily confuse some people’s minds, it cannot withstand rational thinking and the test of time. I’m truly grateful I didn’t bring money that day—it gave me the chance to see Falun Gong for what it really was!
