A Small, Peaceful Family Before the Storm
After the shock of learning more about the brutal truth of the persecution, Qing Ling and I felt our hearts grow heavy. We temporarily participated less in the group Fa-study sessions, partly to have more time for our own thoughts, and partly to avoid causing unnecessary trouble for everyone in what seemed to be an increasingly tense situation. However, there was one family with whom we still kept in regular contact, partly out of sincere affection, and partly because their little daughter was very attached to Qing Ling. That was the family of Kang Yu and Chen Mai.
We met them during our first Fa-study sessions at Uncle Liu’s home. Kang Yu was about thirty years old, a skilled carpenter with a sturdy build, a simple way of speaking, but eyes that always shone with sincerity. His wife, Chen Mai, was a former elementary school teacher (I guessed she had likely left her job because of her cultivation), with a very gentle face and a soft voice. They had a little daughter named Xiao Lian, about three years old, chubby and incredibly adorable with big, round, dark eyes.
Their small family lived in a simple apartment in a residential complex on the outskirts of the city. They were by no means wealthy, but their home was always filled with laughter and a warm atmosphere. Both Kang Yu and Mai were very diligent Falun Gong practitioners. Their belief in Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance was evident in their every gesture, word, and the way they treated everyone. They lived simply, were friendly with their neighbors, and were always ready to help others if they could.
We were invited to their home for dinner a few times. They were just simple meals with a few homegrown vegetables and tofu, but the atmosphere was incredibly cozy. Kang Yu would often tell funny stories from his work, Mai would gently care for their daughter, and little Xiao Lian would chatter away, sometimes running to Qing Ling’s lap to ask for a story. Looking at them, I could feel a very simple, genuine happiness, a peace that radiated from the very souls of people who were striving to live a good life.
Little Xiao Lian was especially fond of Qing Ling. Perhaps because Qing Ling also loved children very much and was always patient in playing with her and reading her stories. Every time we visited, Xiao Lian would squeal with delight, run out to hug Qing Ling’s legs, and ask “Auntie Ling” to hold her. The image of that innocent, pure little girl was like a warm point of light in the increasingly oppressive atmosphere we were sensing in this place.
Because, parallel to the peace in that small family, we knew that the shadow of the persecution was drawing ever closer. Through the incomplete accounts of other practitioners, through the scarce information we could find when trying to circumvent the firewall, we knew that the situation in many places was becoming very tense. There were new waves of arrests, and harassment of practitioners was becoming more frequent. Even here in Shanghai, though it seemed calmer than some other places we had heard about, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.
We could see the fleeting worry in Kang Yu’s and Mai’s eyes whenever the general situation was inadvertently mentioned. They were well aware of the dangers they and their fellow practitioners faced. But instead of being afraid or evasive, they seemed even more resolute in their faith. They still quietly read the books and did the exercises at home every day, and still taught their daughter with kindness and virtue.
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” Kang Yu once told me in a private conversation, his voice deep but very firm. “We just want to be good people according to Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance. Dafa has brought my family so many good things; how could we give it up just because of slander and threats?”
Their steadfastness made us both admire and worry for them. How long could this fragile peace last? Could this small, happy family withstand the storm that was drawing ever nearer? Looking at Xiao Lian’s innocent smile, at Mai’s gentle eyes and Kang Yu’s resolute expression, an indescribable sense of foreboding rose in my heart. I could only silently pray for their safety, even though my reason told me that in this situation, a prayer seemed all too fragile.
The Brutal Midnight Raid
My sense of foreboding about Kang Yu’s family, terrifyingly, came true, and in a way more sudden and brutal than I could have ever imagined.
That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Perhaps the thoughts of the persecution, of the dangers the practitioners faced, kept haunting my mind. The summer night in Shanghai was quite sultry; despite the air conditioning in our hotel room, I still felt suffocated. At around one in the morning, unable to bear it any longer, I quietly went out onto the balcony to get some night air. Our hotel was not very close to Kang Yu’s residential complex, a few hundred meters away at least, but from our high-floor balcony, I could still see a part of that area.
As I stood there looking into the distance, trying to push away the heavy thoughts, I was suddenly startled to see the lights in Kang Yu’s apartment blaze on, unnaturally bright in the dead of night. Immediately after, though the distance muffled much of the sound, I could vaguely perceive loud, unusual noises—something like the banging of a door, indistinct shouting, and the flickering movement of figures inside the lit window. My heart clenched. A cold chill ran down my spine. I rushed back inside to wake Qing Ling, who had also been stirred by my movements. “Ling, something’s wrong! I think… I think it’s Kang Yu’s apartment!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, we quickly threw on some clothes, quietly left the hotel, and hurried towards Kang Yu’s residential complex. We didn’t dare get too close, only hiding behind a large tree at the end of the building, from where we could see his apartment a few dozen meters away.
Under the dim yellow streetlights, the scene before us left us frozen in shock. The door to the small apartment of Kang Yu’s family had been smashed open, torn from its hinges. Several men in police uniforms and some thuggish-looking men in plainclothes were blocking the entrance. Inside the apartment, the lights were on full blast; the sounds of shouting and the heart-wrenching cries of little Xiao Lian echoed out.
Then we saw them drag Kang Yu outside. He was only in thin pajamas, his hands twisted behind his back, his face seemingly bruised. He struggled, his eyes looking back at the apartment, filled with pain and helplessness. Immediately after, Chen Mai was also dragged out by two women in plainclothes, her hair disheveled, her face dazed. She tried to call her daughter’s name but was gagged by one of them.
“Move it! Get in the van!” one of the uniformed men shouted, shoving Kang Yu and Mai towards a small, windowless, unlicensed van parked nearby.
Kang Yu tried to turn his head one last time, shouting, “Falun Dafa is good! Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance is good! Down with the persecution!”
Instantly, a policeman jabbed the butt of his rifle hard into Kang Yu’s stomach, causing him to double over in pain. They brutally pushed both of them into the back of the van and slammed the door shut. The vehicle roared to life and sped off into the night, leaving behind an empty space and the piercing cries of little Xiao Lian still echoing from the ransacked apartment.
The remaining men continued to rummage inside for a while longer. We saw them carry out several boxes of things, probably Dafa books and related materials, and throw them into another vehicle. After taking what they wanted, they too quickly got in the car and left, leaving behind the apartment with its shattered door, the lights still on, and the cries of a deserted child.
The entire incident took place in less than half an hour, as swift and brutal as a nightmare. In the surrounding apartments, all doors remained shut; no one dared to peek out. Perhaps they were too used to such scenes, or fear had paralyzed them into inaction. An atmosphere of terror enveloped the entire residential complex, cold and frightening.
Qing Ling and I stood frozen behind the tree, our bodies trembling. Not from the cold of the night, but from the horror and indignation boiling in our chests. We had witnessed firsthand the brutality, the inhumanity of the so-called “people’s government.” They had brazenly broken into a home in the middle of the night, smashing the door, beating and arresting people like animals, leaving behind a three-year-old child in utter terror.
My heart ached with a sense of powerlessness. We could do nothing to help them. We were just weak outsiders, witnessing a tragedy unfold without being able to do anything more. The indignation towards this regime rose up, choking me. And the worry for the fate of Kang Yu, Mai, and especially little Xiao Lian, weighed on my mind like a great stone. What would happen to them? And that poor child, now alone in the empty apartment, what would become of her? Her cries were like daggers stabbing at our hearts, haunting and tormenting us without end.
Bad News After Bad News – The Parents Disappear
After that horrifying night witnessing Kang Yu’s family being taken away, anxiety and unease weighed heavily on our minds and on those of the other practitioners we knew. The immediate task was to find out where Kang Yu and Chen Mai had been taken and what their situation was.
However, finding information in such circumstances was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and it was also extremely dangerous. The police stations and detention centers would never give any information to families, especially in cases considered to be related to Falun Gong. Any attempt to inquire could lead to suspicion and bring more trouble.
Uncle Liu and a few older, more experienced practitioners tried to discreetly and carefully inquire through informal channels. They asked acquaintances working in low-level government agencies or inquired with practitioners in neighboring areas to see if anyone knew anything. Each day passed in anxious waiting. We took turns looking after little Xiao Lian. She was temporarily being cared for during the day by a kind but also very frightened neighboring family. We tried to comfort and play with her, but Xiao Lian’s dazed, fearful eyes and her innocent question, “Where are Mommy and Daddy?” only made our hearts ache more.
About a week after that terrible night, the first piece of bad news arrived. Uncle Liu came to us with a distraught face, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and worry. He had received news from a reliable source inside the detention center (perhaps someone with a conscience who couldn’t bear the cruelty and had secretly passed the word out). Kang Yu… was gone.
“They said… they said Yu ‘died suddenly’ during an interrogation,” Uncle Liu’s voice broke, choked with emotion. “But the person who sent the news said that a few days before, he had been brutally tortured for refusing to confess, for refusing to write the ‘three statements.’ He had steadfastly maintained that Falun Dafa is good.”
My heart felt like it had stopped. Kang Yu, the simple, healthy carpenter we had just met, could “die suddenly” after only a week in detention? It was too absurd.
But something more horrifying was yet to come. Uncle Liu lowered his voice to almost a whisper, his eyes filled with an indescribable indignation and disgust. “That person also said… before he died, Yu and a few others were taken for a very thorough ‘health check,’ but at a place that didn’t look like a normal hospital. Then… his body was returned very quickly, the family wasn’t allowed to examine it closely, but they saw strange stitches on his abdomen… They suspect…”
Uncle Liu didn’t finish the sentence, but Qing Ling and I understood immediately. The horrific suspicion of live organ harvesting from healthy Falun Gong practitioners—a crime against humanity that we had heard whispers of but had never dared to believe was real—now loomed clearly and grotesquely before us. They had killed Kang Yu, not only for his faith, but possibly also for his healthy organs.
A wave of nausea and a chilling cold ran through me. The brutality of this regime had surpassed all limits of human imagination. This was no longer normal political or religious persecution; this was the destruction of humanity, the most barbaric of crimes. Qing Ling collapsed into a chair, her hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. She couldn’t bear this overwhelmingly cruel truth.
The pain of losing a fellow practitioner had not yet subsided when, a few weeks later, there was news about Chen Mai. Through a lawyer with a conscience (who didn’t dare to publicly take on Falun Gong cases but still secretly helped to find information), we learned that Mai had been sentenced to eight years in prison on the trumped-up charge of “using a cult to undermine law enforcement.” Immediately after the perfunctory, swift trial, she was transferred to a women’s prison in some remote, mountainous province. From then on, all information about her ceased. Family was not allowed to visit, and letters were blocked. It was as if she had completely vanished from this world, her fate unknown.
Bad news followed bad news. In just a short time, a happy family had been completely shattered. The husband was tortured to death, suspected of being a victim of organ harvesting. The wife was imprisoned and disappeared without a trace, with no knowing when she might return. All that was left was a small, helpless daughter, abandoned in a world full of injustice. The tragedy of Kang Yu and Chen Mai’s family was like a deep, gaping wound, laying bare the evil and inhuman nature of the persecution of Falun Gong. It was no longer just stories we heard or numbers in a report, but the real, present pain, the tears and blood of people of flesh and blood whom we had known and cherished. This truth was etched into our minds, an indelible mark, and at the same time, it posed an urgent question: What were we to do for little Xiao Lian, that poor, orphaned child?
The Abandoned Child and a Decision from the Heart
After the heartbreaking news about the fate of Kang Yu and Chen Mai was confirmed, a painful question hung in the air: Who would take care of little Xiao Lian? The three-year-old child had lost both her father and mother in the most brutal of circumstances, becoming a tiny, helpless soul in the midst of a storm.
The kind neighboring family, though they pitied the little girl, clearly could not shelter her for long. The fear from witnessing the brutal midnight raid still haunted them. They lived in anxiety, afraid of being implicated for helping the child of those considered “Falun Gong elements.” In a conversation with Uncle Liu, they expressed their difficult position and worry, hinting that they might have to send Xiao Lian to an orphanage or find some other relative—options that everyone knew were extremely slim and full of risks for the future of a child like her.
Every time Qing Ling and I visited Xiao Lian, our hearts felt as if they were being squeezed. She was no longer the lively, cheerful little girl she used to be. Now, she often sat huddled in a corner, her big, round eyes always wide with fear and confusion, staring into an empty space. She spoke little, smiled little, and would sometimes cry out “Daddy! Mommy!” in her sleep, then wake up startled, sobbing inconsolably. The image of this innocent, pure child caught in the brutal vortex of the persecution, having lost everything simply because of her parents’ faith, cut a wound of indescribable pain and indignation in our hearts.
We could not turn a blind eye. The principle of Compassion (Shan) that we were trying to learn, and the most basic human empathy, would not allow us to turn our backs on Xiao Lian’s tragic situation. Sending her to an orphanage, where she could be stigmatized and mistreated, was something we could not accept.
However, the decision to reach out and help came with enormous risks. We were foreigners, and suddenly adopting a Chinese child without proper documentation in such a sensitive situation was like putting ourselves directly in the authorities’ line of sight. We could be suspected, monitored, even arrested or deported. Our own safety, our plans to return to the US, could all be seriously jeopardized. That fear was very real; it crept into every thought, making us hesitate and feel torn.
That evening, after leaving the neighbor’s home where Xiao Lian was staying temporarily, our spirits were heavy. We walked back to our hotel in silence, each pursuing our own thoughts but all focused on this same difficult problem. Back in the room, we sat facing each other for a long time, saying nothing, with only the sound of soft sighs.
Suddenly, Qing Ling looked up, her eyes meeting mine directly. Her usual hesitation was gone, replaced by an extraordinary determination, a resolve that seemed to come from the depths of her soul.
“Ming,” she said, her voice trembling but very clear and strong. “I’ve thought it over. I… I cannot abandon that little girl. Seeing her like this, my heart aches. We have to do something for her. No matter how dangerous it is, I cannot let Xiao Lian face this bleak future alone.”
Qing Ling’s words were like an electric current running through me. It wasn’t a question seeking my opinion, but a firm declaration, a decision formed from deep Compassion, from the love she had perhaps felt through the Great Law and the urging of her conscience when faced with Xiao Lian’s pain. The conflict within me instantly dissolved, replaced by agreement and a sense of admiration for my wife’s heart.
“I understand,” I replied, my voice also full of emotion, taking her hand tightly in mine. “You’ve made the right decision. We will do this together. We will bring Xiao Lian home, care for her, and protect her.”
The final decision was made, not by calculating the pros and cons of our own safety, but by the powerful impulse of our hearts, by our compassion for others, and by our faith in the values of Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance that we were learning. Though we knew the road ahead was fraught with difficulties and constant danger, looking into Qing Ling’s determined eyes, I felt an unusual sense of resolve.
The very next day, we informed Uncle Liu and the neighboring family of our decision. At first, they were a bit stunned and couldn’t help but worry for the safety of two foreigners like us, but then they were moved and understood our intentions. With their discreet help, we prepared everything necessary to bring Xiao Lian to our hotel room.
When we arrived, Xiao Lian was still huddled in a corner, her eyes full of fear. It was Qing Ling who gently approached, crouched down to her eye level, smiled kindly, and opened her arms. “Sweet Xiao Lian, come to Auntie,” Qing Ling’s voice was warm and gentle.
The little girl stared at Qing Ling for a few seconds, then, as if sensing the safety and genuine love radiating from my wife, she timidly stood up, took tiny steps towards Qing Ling, and nestled into her embrace. The moment Qing Ling held Xiao Lian tightly, her hand gently stroking the child’s tangled hair, patting her small, trembling back, I saw a saintly beauty on Qing Ling’s face, a boundless love and an extraordinary strength.
Looking at that image, an image I would never forget, I understood that our lives had truly turned a new page. The supposedly simple three-month summer trip, scheduled to end in late August, had now stretched to nearly the end of October. Initially, we had decided to stay longer only to delve deeper into this path of cultivation, but now, with Xiao Lian’s arrival, this decision would surely keep us in this turbulent land for much longer, for how long, we did not know. We were no longer just tourists. We had become reluctant parents, shouldering the sacred responsibility of sheltering and protecting a small soul who had just escaped a tragic fate. This decision from the heart, born from Qing Ling’s Compassion and courage, and carried out with our mutual consent, was the most profound and genuine lesson in practicing Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance we could have had amidst adversity. And it officially set us on a new journey, one full of danger but also full of meaning: the journey to find a way for the three of us to survive amidst the storm of the persecution.
This article is an excerpt from the book “RED DUST, GOLDEN LIGHT” – which tells the story of Professor Wang Ming and his wife’s journey to uncover spiritual mysteries and many hidden truths in China.
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