The First Ripples of Unease
After about three weeks in Shanghai, having integrated into the small group of Uncle Liu and his fellow practitioners, we had grown closer and more attached to them, to these kind-hearted people we were so fortunate to meet. The exercise sessions at Uncle Liu’s home or at other discreet locations, along with the evening Fa-study and sharing sessions, had become an indispensable part of our daily life here. These activities brought us peace of mind and great hope. However, just when we were feeling most at ease, the first signs of unease began to quietly appear, as if heralding something ominous to come.
The first thing we noticed was the change in the exercise meetups. The number of participants would sometimes inexplicably decrease. There were familiar faces we wouldn’t see for several days in a row. Then one morning, Uncle Liu would call to say that day’s practice was temporarily canceled, or sometimes the meeting place would have to be changed abruptly with no clear explanation, just a general “it’s more convenient” or “something urgent came up.”
Not only that, but the demeanor of some of the practitioners also seemed to become more reserved. The lively, open conversations after Fa-study were now sometimes interrupted by somewhat wary glances around the room, or someone would suddenly lower their voice when mentioning certain topics. Uncle Liu, the retired engineer who had always been so enthusiastic and forthright, once during a private conversation, I noticed him occasionally glancing out the window, his eyes holding a flicker of anxiety I had never seen before. He didn’t say anything directly, but his manner gave me a sense of unease for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint.
One afternoon, as Qing Ling and I were taking a walk near Uncle Liu’s neighborhood, I noticed a man in plainclothes, looking rather unfamiliar, loitering at the opposite street corner. He wasn’t doing anything specific, just leaning against a wall, his eyes occasionally darting towards Uncle Liu’s residential complex. It could have been a coincidence, but in this context, the sight made me a little suspicious. Qing Ling noticed too, and she gently tightened her grip on my hand.
It was clear that something was happening covertly that we were not yet aware of. The initial serene and open atmosphere seemed to be veiled by a thin mist of anxiety and caution.
Once, during a group Fa-study at Uncle Liu’s house (the number of participants that day was also noticeably smaller than in the beginning), as we were sharing our understandings from the book, the kind Mrs. Chen suddenly sighed and said softly, as if to herself, “The weather seems like it’s about to change…”
I asked in surprise, “The weather? I think it’s still quite nice, ma’am.”
Mrs. Chen just gave a slight, somewhat unnatural smile and offered no further explanation. Uncle Liu, sitting beside her, gave a light cough, then looked at us, his voice lowering. “You two are foreigners, and you’ve just arrived, so there are many things you may not know. Here… things are not as simple as they seem. It’s not always easy to be a good person. You two… should be a little careful.”
The veiled, meaningful words of Uncle Liu and Mrs. Chen only deepened my sense of unease. Be careful of what? Why wasn’t it easy to be a good person? The questions spun in my head, but I sensed that this was not the time or place to ask more. There was some invisible curtain hiding the truth, a truth that our new friends were apparently facing every day, while we had only just touched its edge. These signs of unease, though still vague, were enough to signal that our journey of discovery was about to enter a dangerous and more challenging turn.
Whispers of the Persecution
The vague warnings and the increasingly cautious atmosphere caused the unease in my heart and Qing Ling’s to grow. Although we had vaguely sensed the danger and the “sensitive” nature of Falun Gong through the incident in the park and the difficulty of finding information online, we still couldn’t grasp the full picture. The opportunity to understand better came one evening when we were again invited to Uncle Liu’s home. This time, the atmosphere was different. It was just Uncle Liu, Mrs. Chen, and us. The small room seemed quieter than usual; tea was already prepared on the table, but no one seemed to want to touch it.
The silence stretched for a moment, then Uncle Liu looked directly at us. His gaze no longer held the scrutiny of our first meeting, but was filled with a seriousness and a certain heaviness. He sighed, as if he had just made a difficult decision.
“You two,” he began, his voice deeper and slower than usual. “These past few days, you seem to have been troubled, and perhaps you’ve also sensed some unusual things. We see you as family and don’t want to hide things, but speaking of these matters, we’re also afraid of causing you more worry.”
Qing Ling and I held our breath, knowing that what we were about to hear would likely clarify what we had vaguely known and sensed.
Uncle Liu continued, “As you already know from the book ‘Zhuan Falun,’ Falun Gong, or Falun Dafa, is a high-level cultivation practice of the Buddha School that teaches people to live according to Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance, bringing great benefits to both health and spirit. Previously, there were nearly one hundred million people practicing it here in China, even more than the number of Communist Party members.”
He paused, taking a small sip of tea. “But… as you may have sensed from the incident with the fellow practitioner who gave you the book, since July 20, 1999, everything completely changed.” His voice dropped, and I could hear a suppressed pain in it. “The head of the Chinese Communist Party at the time, Jiang Zemin, out of personal jealousy and an irrational fear of Falun Gong’s rapid growth, afraid that the people would believe in Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance more than the Party, disregarded the disagreement of many others in the Politburo and ordered the launch of an extremely brutal and senseless persecution nationwide, targeting Falun Gong and everyone who practiced it.”
Hearing Uncle Liu state it so clearly, the pieces of information we had gathered before began to connect. Although we were no longer surprised that there was a persecution, hearing an insider, someone we respected, affirm “an extremely brutal and senseless persecution nationwide,” the scale of the issue began to appear much larger than we could have imagined.
“So what we read online in the US, and what we witnessed in the park that day… it’s all true, and even much more serious, isn’t it, Uncle?” Qing Ling asked softly, her voice unable to hide her shock at the magnitude of the situation. “I still can’t understand why they would resort to such brutal measures against a peaceful practice that only teaches people to be good.”
Uncle Liu shook his head, a look of sadness on his face. “To the Communist Party, anything not under their absolute control, any ideology that has a great influence on the people but is not the Party’s, is considered a threat to their power. They cannot accept people having faith in gods and Buddhas, in universal values like Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance, because it goes against their atheist and struggle-based nature.”
He went on to describe how the state’s massive propaganda machine had been systematically used to slander and defame Falun Gong. “They used all media channels, from TV and radio to newspapers and the internet… to broadcast fabrications day and night. They labeled Falun Gong an ‘evil cult,’ concocting all sorts of evil stories to incite hatred among the uninformed public, brainwashing an entire generation. They even staged the ‘self-immolation hoax’ in Tiananmen Square and blamed it on Falun Gong, a clumsy play that nonetheless deceived many people both at home and abroad.”
Mrs. Chen, sitting beside him, her eyes having turned red at some point, added softly, her voice choked with emotion, “Millions of our fellow practitioners have been arbitrarily arrested and harassed in countless ways just for refusing to give up their belief in Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance. Their homes were ransacked at any time of day or night, Dafa books were confiscated and destroyed, they were fired from their jobs, their children were discriminated against in school, and their families were monitored and pressured…”
Every word from Uncle Liu and Mrs. Chen, though spoken calmly, was like a knife stabbing at my heart. The scale and evil of this persecution far exceeded what I could have previously imagined. This was no longer a “sensitive” issue or “being given a hard time”; this was a deliberate, systematic, and incredibly brutal campaign to eradicate a faith. How could the gentle, kind people we knew, who only wanted to live better lives according to Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance, be branded an “evil cult” and have to endure such terrible things?
I looked at Qing Ling and saw her face had turned pale, her eyes filled with horror and indignation. The beautiful spiritual values we had just found and cherished were now revealed to be a target for deliberate trampling and destruction by state power.
“The scale of it… it’s just unimaginable,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady but unable to hide its tremor. “What we knew before was only a very small part.”
“We understand this is very difficult for you to accept and fully comprehend, especially coming from a free environment,” Uncle Liu said, his voice full of sympathy. “But this is the painful truth that has been happening in this country for over twenty years. This is also why we must be extremely cautious in everything we do. We are not telling you this to scare you, but so you can better understand the real situation that we and millions of other practitioners are facing every day.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was a heavy, suffocating silence, thick with the brutal truth that had just been laid bare. Questions about the true scale of the persecution, its level of brutality, and the dangers our new friends were facing swirled in my head. What Uncle Liu and Mrs. Chen had just told us was only a part of a much larger, darker picture, and I knew we had to find out more.
Evidence of Brutality and Absurdity
The initial accounts of the persecution from Uncle Liu and Mrs. Chen left Qing Ling and me truly stunned. For the next few days, my mind reeled with the horrific information. Could the truth really be so brutal? Could there be some misunderstanding or exaggeration somewhere? My scientific mind still tried to find some rational explanation, but the images of the kind, sincere faces of the practitioners we had met kept coming back, a complete contradiction to the “evil cult” label they had been given.
A few days later, on another visit to Uncle Liu’s home, seeing that we were still troubled by many doubts, he decided to speak more deeply. This time, there was also a middle-aged woman named Lan, whom we had not met before. Her face bore the lines of hardship, but her eyes shone with an unusual determination. Uncle Liu introduced her, saying that Lan had been imprisoned for several years just for refusing to give up her practice of Falun Gong.
Lan began to tell her story. Her voice was even, with no hint of resentment, but every word seemed to cut into the listener’s heart. She spoke of the night the police stormed her home, ransacked it, and took her away right in front of her small child, who was screaming in terror. She spoke of the days in the detention center, and then the forced labor camp.
“They didn’t treat us like human beings,” she said softly. “They used every means to force us to renounce our faith in Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance. They wanted us to write the ‘three statements’—a guarantee to no longer practice, a letter of repentance, and a statement denouncing other practitioners.”
She described the torture that she and other practitioners had endured. Not in general terms, but with specific details that made us shudder. “They used electric batons on the most sensitive parts of our bodies. The sound of agonizing screams echoed through the hallways. They forced us to stand or sit motionless for days on end, without sleep; the moment we dozed off, we were mercilessly beaten. Some were hung up by their handcuffed wrists for hours until they fainted. Some were force-fed by having a hard plastic tube shoved through their nose into their stomach, then a mixture of food and filthy water was poured in, causing excruciating pain and terrible internal injuries…”
Hearing this, Qing Ling couldn’t hold back; she covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes already filled with tears. My chest felt tight, a wave of indignation and disgust rising within me. These were not the actions of law enforcement officers; this was clearly a crime.
“The most painful thing wasn’t just the physical torture,” Lan continued, her voice faltering slightly. “It was the mental torture. They forced us to watch propaganda videos slandering Master and Dafa over and over again. They used the filthiest language to curse and humiliate us. They tried every way to break our will and destroy our faith.”
To show us more clearly, Uncle Liu carefully took out a thin folder, wrapped in several layers of cloth, from a locked cabinet. He opened it. Inside were a few old black-and-white photos, showing bruises and burns from electric batons on a person’s body. There was also a carefully handwritten list, recording the names and addresses of some practitioners in the region who had been arrested, sentenced, or had disappeared without a trace over the years.
“This is just a very small part,” Uncle Liu said, his voice full of sorrow. “There are countless others suffering in prisons and labor camps across the country. Many have been tortured to death, or have been secretly eliminated, their families never knowing the truth…”
Looking at those photos, those written words, hearing Lan’s heart-wrenching and truthful account, any last remaining doubt in me vanished. The truth was laid bare—stark, brutal, and utterly absurd. On one side were kind people who only wanted to improve their health and elevate their morals according to the principles of Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance. On the other was an entire state machine, using the most brutal methods, from deceitful propaganda to savage torture, to destroy their faith.
This contrast pained my heart. How could such an absurdity exist? Where was the law? Where was justice? Where was human conscience? The worldview based on scientific logic and social order that I had once trusted seemed to be collapsing right before my eyes.
I looked at Qing Ling and saw her silently wiping away tears. The indignation was clear on her face. She was born in China, once proud of her homeland’s long history and culture. Now, faced with this brutal truth, the pain and disappointment in her must be even greater than mine.
The conversation that day ended in a very heavy atmosphere. We left Uncle Liu’s home with troubled hearts, carrying the burden of the truth we had just learned. The beautiful light of Falun Gong that we had just found was now shrouded in the terrifying darkness of the persecution. We knew we could no longer just watch from the outside. But what could we do? The question kept circling in my mind, leaving us feeling truly conflicted and torn.
Inner Turmoil and Facing the Truth
That night, Qing Ling and I could barely sleep. We returned to our hotel room, but our minds were heavy with what we had just heard and seen at Uncle Liu’s home. The room was oppressively silent, with only Qing Ling’s soft sighs and the pounding of my own heart in my chest. The truth about the persecution of Falun Gong, with its evidence of brutality and absurdity, had stunned us both, leaving a deep wound in our thoughts and emotions.
The initial shock gradually subsided, giving way to a chilling horror. I could not comprehend how a country like China, with its modern facade and the kind, simple people we had met, could have a state machine that would torture and kill its own peaceful citizens just because they held a different belief. My view of the world, built on scientific logic and a belief in a certain social order, seemed to be shattering. Light and darkness, good and evil, truth and lies… all swirled together painfully before my eyes.
I looked over at Qing Ling. My wife was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees, her eyes gazing out the window into the night. Her tears had dried, but the pain and indignation were still etched in her eyes. I knew she was in more pain than I was. This was the homeland where she was born, the culture she loved and often taught. To be confronted with the reality that the authorities here were trampling on the finest moral values, destroying the kindest of people, was surely a great trauma and disappointment.
“How could they do this, Ming?” Qing Ling’s voice broke the silence, faint yet full of indignation. “People like Uncle Liu, Mrs. Chen, Sister Lan… they just want to be good people. Why are they treated like enemies?”
I didn’t know how to answer. All reason became meaningless in the face of such extreme absurdity.
Then, fear began to creep in, seizing my mind. We were foreigners, but we had been in close contact with Falun Gong practitioners. We had learned the exercises, participated in group Fa-study, and held a copy of “Zhuan Falun.” Were we being watched? Did knowing this truth put us in danger? The worry for our own safety began to rise.
But immediately, a sense of shame washed over me. We had only known about this for a few days, and fear was already making us anxious. What about our new friends? They had been living with this fear for so many years. They had faced the risk of being arrested, tortured, or even killed at any moment. Yet they still held fast to their beliefs, still tried to live with kindness, still helped others. Compared to them, our fear felt so small and somewhat selfish.
A fierce struggle raged in my mind. One part of my reason told me to leave this place immediately, to return to the safety of the US. China was too dangerous; we shouldn’t get involved. But another part, the part of my conscience and nascent faith in Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance, would not let me turn a blind eye. We had been helped by them, trusted by them with the truth. To leave now would be nothing short of cowardice, a betrayal of their kindness, a betrayal of the very values we had just begun to learn.
What were we to do? Pretend we knew nothing and quietly leave? Or stay, face the danger, and find a way to help them within our capacity? What could we even do? We were just two ordinary foreigners, with no power, no connections here.
Light and darkness. Safety and conscience. Fleeing and confronting. This turmoil made my head spin. This was no longer a simple cultural exploration trip. We had been drawn into the middle of a fierce confrontation between good and evil, between righteousness and the wickedness of power. And we had to choose. The truth had been revealed, and now, we had to face it, to face our own hearts, to decide the path forward.
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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