(Minghui.org) I had always considered myself the unluckiest child alive, because I always seemed to have bad luck. I once fell into a manure pit while playing hide-and-seek. While running around with other kids, I often bumped into things and ended up with a bloody head wound. Even if I was sitting down playing all by myself, I would get stung by a bee and my nose would swell up. While playing in a river, I cut my foot and it wouldn't stop bleeding.
One day I was with the adults helping to spread corn out to dry on the roof when I somehow fell off. Fortunately, I landed on my rear end and wasn't injured. Another time, I was swimming in the local reservoir when my foot got tangled in a fishing net, and I couldn't get out. Suddenly, an unknown force pulled me out of the water and I survived.
My name is Hui, and back then, everyone thought I was a naughty boy. I considered myself an unlucky child, the unluckiest of all.
My Wretched Childhood
My parents divorced when I was six, and I became shy and rebellious and had low self-esteem. My mother remarried when I was eight. That's when arguments and beatings became the new norm in my life. I was often injured. I remember clearly one time after a terrible beating, my entire body turned purple. My buttocks were so swollen and sore that I walked with a limp. After that, I started to run away whenever there was a fight at home. I stayed with my classmates in nearby villages and sometimes didn't return home for a week or more.
One winter night when I was ten, I had a big fight with my stepfather. It was very cold outside and the road was covered with snow and ice. I rode my bike by the light of the moon for 10 kilometers (6 miles) to cry and complain to my maternal grandmother. During another big fight with my stepfather, I had to jump high to avoid being hit by a knife that he threw at me. It flew between my legs.
I often skipped class to play ball during my middle school years. When one of the teachers caught me, she called me into the office and made me stand there for the entire morning. Another teacher kicked me in the classroom whenever I was naughty. The administrator slapped me in the face after I was caught fighting. I sometimes went with other kids to steal cardboard boxes and sell them. When I was bored, I spent the entire day at gaming arcades.
When I was 14, my family sent me to a manufacturing plant as an apprentice. My hand was almost crushed in a machine several times while working. In the dorm where the employees lived, I fought with men my father or grandfather's age. They beat me and hit me with batons.
That was my childhood, filled with pain and suffering. Fortunately, I was always able to escape actual danger, as if I was somehow blessed.
Becoming a Good Person
Before I turned 14, I had always considered myself a poor soul that no one cared about and who had perpetual bad luck. But in the eyes of others, I was a troubled teenager who did not listen and refused to learn. It was not until several years later that I heard that my biological parents, aunts, and grandparents had all been worried about me. But there was nothing my mother could do, and my biological father had no chance to intervene. My aunt once traveled a long way to see him to beg him to take care of me. She thought that if no one intervened I would end up in jail sooner or later.
The turning point in my life came when I met my grandfather’s sister (my great aunt) at my grandmother’s place. She had left to work in another city many years earlier, and we’d never known each other.
“Who is this?” she asked.
“This is Hui,” my grandmother replied.
My great aunt asked me about my situation.
Much later, she told me her memory of that encounter: “You looked like a gang member. You had long hair dyed in blue and yellow stripes, a big pair of flared pants, and a long, dangling belt. Thinking you were the grandson that your grandparents cared about the most and that you were doing dangerous child labor, I made up my mind to help you.”
With her help, I stopped doing child labor as an apprentice. Instead of living with my mother and stepfather, I moved in with my grandparents.
Not long after that, my great aunt enrolled me in a vocational school near her. She took me to a barbershop for a haircut before I started at the school, despite my protests. She then found me some appropriate clothes. I then appeared to be a normal student.
I often spent the weekends at my great aunt’s. She told me stories about being a good person and corrected my bad habits.
During the three years I attended the vocational school, she taught me to respect my teachers and the elderly, as well as how to be nice to other people. With these traditional values established in my mind, I was able to get rid of many shortcomings. My hatred for my biological father and stepfather faded and was replaced with understanding and forgiveness. Instead of fooling around and wasting time, I was able to calm down and be productive.
Becoming a Practitioner
The year I started the vocational school, I somehow got a copy of Les Prophéties by Nostradamus. Impressed by the accuracy of the prophecies, I said to myself, “Wow! It seems there really is such a thing as divine power.” That changed the way I looked at society and the world.
In 2007 when I was 22, my great aunt told me about Falun Dafa and the suppression. Out of curiosity, I began to read Dafa books. I had already graduated from the vocational school and had begun working. In my spare time, I often read Dafa books and recited poems written by the founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi. Because my mind was pure, my character quickly improved. I always tried to live by the principles of Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance.
One day I saw a paper bundle at the entrance of the hotel where I worked. It was full of cash that had recently been withdrawn from a bank. Thinking that the owner must be very worried, I went to the front desk and turned it in. Had I not practiced Dafa, I would have secretly put it in my pocket, since it amounted to about two months of my salary. But I could not do that as a practitioner. As I turned the money in, I felt my heart fill with joy.
A Person of Principle
The land in my hometown was sold to developers, and everyone received a decent amount of money. Because I was not there, my biological father and stepmother took my share. Thinking that the money belonged to me for emergencies, my grandparents tried to retrieve it and even cried in front of my father. But their efforts were in vain and follow-ups with village officials were also fruitless.
Out of frustration and despair, my grandfather called me at work and told me about the situation. I was very calm and said, “If they want to take the money, they can have it. Please don’t feel bad about it.” I know I could not have handled the situation that way had I not been guided by Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance.
My coworkers often argued with each other for the sake of their own material interests, as did the managers. Considering myself a practitioner, I remained undisturbed and just focused on doing my job well. Once again, I behaved this way because Falun Dafa had taught me how to be a good citizen.
Later on, more developers went to the countryside, and I found a job there as a warehouse manager and was responsible for all the materials coming in and going out. Many coworkers considered it a great opportunity for gray, or illicit, income. But I knew that being a practitioner, I could not do anything that went against my principles.
I was later planning to build a house in my hometown. Given my job, I could have easily acquired anything I needed, including rebar, cement, sand, power cables, and even manpower. People in my position could easily issue a few lists to get anything they needed to build a house without using any of their own money. But I did not do that. I built the house at my own expense with help from my grandparents.
Once when I was a child, I dreamed that I descended here from another place, a place that was very, very high. It was not until I became a Falun Dafa practitioner that I understood the meaning of this dream. Improving ourselves, becoming better people, and returning to our original selves by cultivating is what is most important in our lives.
