Because He Saved Many Lives, My Father was Able to Live for 20 Years Longer

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Good is rewarded with good and evil meets with retribution is a heavenly principle. This is what my father used to say when he was alive. After he retired, I was in the midst of the busiest time of my career and had very little time to look after my parents. One day, in between business meetings, I took time to visit my parents' home.

At that time, my father had just recovered from a severe illness, and was sitting outside when I arrived. I pulled up a stool and sat next to him. My father's complexion didn't look too bad and was quite rosy. Just as I sat down, a fortune-teller passed by and said loudly,

"Hey, sir, you don't look too bad. But, it looks like you must have just been through a big illness. Don't worry, don't worry; you still have many years to live from the extra years the heavens have given you. The devil does not dare to take you."

Then he started to laugh. I felt annoyed and gave him some money, saying, "You want money don't you. Here, take it and now go."

My father smiled and said, "Don't go so quickly," and wanted me to bring a seat for the fortune-teller. In order to make my father happy, I had to obey. After the fortune-teller sat down, he and my father had a good long discussion. The fortune-teller's main points were: My father had saved lots of people during his life, so he had gained lots of virtue. Originally, his natural life was to last 64 years, but because he saved lots of people, the heavens gave him another 20 years. This way, he could live to be 84 years old, and would live to see many grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

The fortune-teller finally finished. Before he left, he said, "In your life, whatever is yours you will not lose; whatever is not yours, do not fight for it. The business world will disappear like smoke; to gain prosperity and good fortune, the only way is to increase virtue and to do good deeds." After he finished, he glanced at me as if he were talking to me.

I grumbled, "Ruffian from the streets, no proper employment." My father said, "This is all true. I know you don't want to listen and don't understand, but you must remember these words."

After we went inside the house, my father suddenly became serious.

"I don't want to get involved in your job, but remember one thing: Don't bully people just for the sake of it. I have become clearer about the way the Communists bully people. Amongst you and your sisters, I am most worried about you," he said.

He continued, "The Discipline Committee, actually, this is a tool that the Communists use to bully people. The fortune-teller was right, I really did save the lives of the people in a village. That year, you were only eight years old."

Below are my father's memories:

In 1958, father was accused of being a "rightist" (counterrevolutionary) and the whole family was forced into the countryside. The entire family ended up living under an awning, against a wall of someone else's house, which was immediately opposite a shed housing cow feed. The village people felt sorry for us and helped us to build three walls.

Not long thereafter, the county government brought a message that said, because my father's original birth family was very poor, he would now no longer be designated a "rightist" and could return to the factory to work. Actually, my father was the head of the technical department in the factory, and after he was kicked out, the factory could not solve its technical problems, and several machines stopped working, seriously affecting production.

After receiving this letter, my father became very angry, and refused to return to the factory. He said, "The village people are good to us, we can be socialists anywhere. I don't have to go back." So, my father did not return to his factory.

Not long after, my father became the leader of the First Team in the village. At that time people were encouraged to grow food, cotton and oil, and every village had a large community kitchen. All food grown by individuals had to be given to the government.

In 1958, everyone was encouraged to produce steel instead. Every family took out their pots and pans and threw them all into kilns. Not one bit of food was put into storage, and the food in the village's warehouse became scarce. Most the food was handed to the level above, in order to increase the area's production statistics. Furthermore, the county government was coming to the village to check that all food had been handed in. My father became so worried he started getting ulcers in his mouth. During the night, he discussed with the village's Party head how to save the last bit of food.

Following my father's lead, a group of people dug a hole in the ground in a very secluded location and hid the food. Another group of people, under the village head's lead, quickly harvested the last few acres of yams in the fields. This was all done at night, with everyone working under the moon and the stars, since they were afraid to turn on the lights. The villagers were afraid to speak loudly and did not even dare to light a cigarette. Even the women helped in the fields. Some people were pulling up the yams, while others worked their oxen, turning the fields. The men carried the yams to the hole in the ground.

By dawn, all of the yams had been harvested, and all the food had been hidden. My father relaxed for a moment, but then fainted on the ground. The villagers carried my father back home. The whole family was so scared that we all cried.

When the sun rose, my father went to deal with the inspection personnel from the county government. The fields had already been planted with wheat. At the meeting, the inspection group praised my father for being the first to complete the task of winter sowing. However, they scolded my father for being the most conservative, because his team had handed in the least food rations. My father at the time said he had tried his best. "I will do my best in handing over food rations next year," he said.

When my father reached this point in the story, he felt he had to explain himself.

He said, "In my entire life, this was the one time that I stole and became a thief, a big thief. I led the entire village of people to steal. In order to have the inspectors not doubt me, at lunchtime I told the kitchen to cook them a big pot of yams, which was brought to the food warehouse. Although they were from the county government, they also could not get enough food. Before they left, I had them take two yams home for their children to eat!" [Note: at that time, there was a commune policy which stated that everything belonging to the people also belonged to the government. In order to validate the central government's propaganda announcements, the local party officials had no choice but to hand in farmers' own rations in order to increase the quota to "expected" propaganda levels. In the end, this resulted in a widespread famine that caused the unnatural deaths of 30 to 40 million people.]

After awhile, my father said, "I stole just one time, but I saved the lives of an entire village. There were more than 100 families, so the heavens increased my life by 20 years. Heaven is fair. Now, thinking back on those years during which people starved to death, it is truly chilling. In some villages, more than ten entire families died. In our village, nothing bad happened. If anyone came to our village, such as a villager's in-laws and their grandchildren, we provided meals and water for them. I never let anyone who came to our village die."

My father continued his recollection, "When spring arrived in 1960, there was still not much food left in our village. Food is the village's whole life. Every day and night, two village authorities and I would take shifts safeguarding the food-hiding place. One morning, I just finished doing the last shift, and at dawn I was walking back to the village, when I passed the bean field closest to our village. As I approached the field I saw a person face down on the ground, and soon realised that she was an elderly lady. I called to her a few times, but she did not reply. I squatted down and shook her, and quickly realised she had already starved to death. Her mouth was filled with bean sprouts."

At this point, my father could not continue any further. I was also shaken by his story.

After stopping for a while, my father began again.

"I went back to the village and found a few people to bury the elderly lady. I did not attend her burial. It was all so miserable and sad. I had to do another shift that day. If only I had found out earlier, and had given her a hot yam, she would not have died. Even if it had been just a bowl of hot water, she would not have died."

I could see that my father was in the depths of self-blame. Perhaps this blame had followed him for years. I could not find the words to comfort him, so I mechanically passed the teacup to him. My father drank some tea and continued.

"So many years have passed, I dare not think back and remember those times. Dried yam sprouts were usually used to feed cows. During those years, people used to eat them. People even ate cow feed. In the end, we survived until it was again time to harvest the wheat. Then, the whole village again had a continuous food supply. As the new wheat was harvested, we had finally passed death's door. At this time, the county government passed a message down asking me to go back to my original work unit (factory in the county). This time, I had no choice but to leave. As I was leaving, the entire village, the authorities, and the team leaders cried, pulling on me and asking me to stay.

My father smiled happily, and said, "For my whole life, I never wanted to be a government official, but in the end I became an official of a village for two years. During that time, I saved the lives of an entire village, so heaven gave me another 20 years to live. I am already 80 years old this year, so I have another four years to live. There are some things you just have to believe."

Then he declared, "I remember when your grandmother was still alive, she said that a fortune-teller had told her that I would live to be 64. But when I did not die at 64, I thought that the fortune-teller had made a mistake. Today I finally know the reason I have those extra years. It is because heaven gave me another 20. We must live properly, do good deeds, and gather more virtue. If I die when I'm 84, that means that the fortune-teller is correct. You should not believe the Communist Party's rubbish that there are no gods. You must still educate your children to do good deeds and gather virtue. Tell my story to the children. If I do not live to be 84 or 85 years old, you can choose to believe or disbelieve in gods. Irrespective, gods will still exist even if men do not believe in them. Just remember to do good deeds. This is good for you and your children.

My father lived to be 84 years and 112 days old.

Two years after he died, I was lucky enough to discover the practice of Falun Gong, and start my cultivation path. I have wanted to tell my father's story for a long time.

First, this is what my father wanted before he died, and secondly I want to tell all those atheists under the poisonous influence of the Communist Party: You will do yourself harm if you do bad things.Good will be rewarded with good, and evil will meet with retribution. These are heavenly principles! The gods will punish the Communist Party even though communists do not believe in gods. For over 55 years, the Chinese Communists have committed millions of evil deeds, and killed 80 million people. The gods have it all recorded. Now that the Nine Commentaries on the Communist Party have been published, retribution is coming to the Chinese Communist Party.

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