(Minghui.org) My mother began practicing Falun Dafa in 1997. At the age of eight, I started practicing with her. Back then, I wasn’t very diligent. I knew Falun Dafa was beneficial, but my understanding was limited; I only wanted to be a good person.
After the persecution began on July 20, 1999, my mother was arrested and detained several times and repeatedly made to pay huge fines, further straining our family’s already tight finances. After our home was ransacked, my mother’s whereabouts and safety were unknown. My father also lived in constant fear, which intensified his distrust of Falun Dafa.
I had no peaceful days growing up. We faced financial hardship and strained family relationships. I attended school, but at night, crying, I would go to the detention center to see my mother. My childhood was one of constant fear and anxiety.
I was traumatized after our home was ransacked and my mother was displaced. Back in the dormitory, I barely spoke, unsure if I’d ever see my mother again. With no money, I hid in corners whenever it was mealtime, eating steamed buns to stave off hunger. I spent almost nothing. That experience taught me that, as long as I have food and shelter, I can survive. Everything else is a bonus.
In this situation, I found both hardship and joy. Why? Because ever since I started school, I’d had a superpower—the ability to effortlessly come in first academically. From elementary to junior high, I was almost always the top student in my class, and half the time I was the top student in my grade. Even during the years my mother was persecuted, I continued to excel academically.
Back then, no matter how difficult or painful things were, my ability to excel academically gave me confidence and comfort. I believed my future held limitless possibilities and that I would carve out a world of my own through hard work.
After the high school entrance exam, I easily gained admission to the Olympiad Class at the best local high school. I was then selected for the large Experimental Class at a key municipal-level high school that recruits top students from across all regions. In this class, which brought together top scorers from all over, my academic performance remained strong, and my grades consistently ranked among the highest.
My scores on the college entrance exam, however, didn’t qualify me for any of the prestigious universities. If fact, I made the worst scores ever, and the only belief that had sustained me evaporated.
I’d heard so many stories about children in families that cultivated who had sudden bursts of wisdom and did extraordinarily well on crucial exams—why was I the exact opposite? I not only failed to perform at my usual level, I earned the worst scores in my academic history.
Before the college entrance exam, I’d spent three days researching my options and had narrowed it down to two medical schools in Wuhan. But with my scores so low, I was unsure which school to apply to.
My mom heard about a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) program, and I quickly decided to apply to the seven-year program at a TCM university. Back then, TCM was an unpopular field, finding work after graduation was tough, and a future in the field was quite uncertain.
After four years of hard work in college, I resolved in my fifth year to turn things around and make a name for myself. I applied to a graduate program at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, studied diligently, and made it to the interview stage. But the night before heading to Beijing for the interview, I changed my mind and withdrew, deciding instead to stay with my home university for a seven-year graduate program.
I later heard that all my classmates who went to Beijing for interviews, even those with lower scores than mine, were invited by their professors to stay in Beijing and were granted Beijing residencies. Many classmates expressed sympathy for me.
Later, when I was applying for doctoral studies, I easily reached the interview stage at Shanghai Jiao Tong University. But yet again, for personal reasons, I backed out at the last minute.
After graduating with a master’s degree, I went job-hunting and took the civil service exams, but I missed opportunities at top-tier hospitals. I ultimately ended up at a district-level hospital—arguably the least desirable position among my peers at the university. What’s more, my post-graduate experience proved to be the most challenging among all my classmates. Unlike most new-hires, who were mentored by senior doctors before handling night shifts on their own, I didn’t have a structured learning environment.
My first month on the job, I was assigned to work night shifts on my own. My ward was notorious for its high volume of critical emergencies and complex cases, making it the busiest in the hospital. Nurses dreaded being paired with me, because it meant nonstop work until the end of the shift. I often went without sleep or food for over 20 hours straight, working round the clock.
As a recent graduate, I reached my physical and mental limits. I wondered if any job could be more grueling than this. A single misstep could result in death. The mental toll was the most intense I’d ever experienced. Working such long hours without food or sleep while fighting to save patients pushed my physical endurance to its absolute limit. I dreaded going to work every day and often broke down in tears after my shift.
By the time I turned 30, I’d had enough of clinical work, so I quit my job. I wanted to pursue Traditional Chinese Medicine. Though my diligent efforts had earned me promotions and praise from my supervisors, civil service positions didn’t allow voluntary resignations; they could be processed only as dismissals. Only then did I regain my freedom. My subsequent job search was fraught with setbacks, and I endured endless gossip from neighbors and acquaintances.
I didn’t understand why, among my peers, I’d always been the one with such bad luck. Whether it was college, graduate school, the doctoral entrance exam, the civil service exam, or job hunting—everything had been a downward spiral. It felt like my destiny was nothing but hardship. Why was it that after others cultivated themselves, they experienced twists and turns that led to unexpected breakthroughs, while my path only grew more difficult?
After several breakdowns, I finally realized that life doesn’t stay good for long—whatever fate hands you, you must endure. This life is full of hardship, and the next might be even worse. Being a good person isn’t the ultimate goal; one’s true purpose lies in cultivating oneself and returning to one’s true nature.
That was when I read all the Falun Dafa books and let go of fame, fortune, and worldly desires. I told myself that if I could survive on steamed buns alone, I could certainly manage now with my education, work experience, and strong work ethic. As long as I had the Fa and a meal to eat, even without a suitable hospital, I could survive by doing any kind of work.
After hitting rock bottom, a turning point came when a friend told me, “I heard there’s a private hospital hiring.” I had no expectations; I just hoped to scrape by. But when I went, I discovered the position was tailor-made for me. My strengths perfectly matched what they needed, and the facilities and resources were better than I had anticipated. I was given significant responsibility and successfully transitioned from a clinical physician to a TCM practitioner.
TCM experienced a resurgence following the COVID-19 pandemic. Thanks to the wisdom imparted by Master and my passion for TCM, my career has flourished. In contrast, the top-tier tertiary hospitals within the established system are now on a downward trend.
When I saw that the two hardest-hit hospitals in Wuhan—the epicenter of the outbreak—were affiliated with the very universities I initially aspired to attend, I understood why it hadn’t been part of my life’s design to attend these institutions that bore the brunt of the pandemic. My years of perplexity were resolved in an instant.
Searching the internet, I learned that Wuhan is the birthplace of organ transplantation in China. The Chinese Organ Procurement Organization Congress was held in Wuhan in late February 2019. I also learned that a Wuhan hospital cardiologist said they do heart transplant surgeries every one or two weeks. With such a high frequency, there must be a problem sourcing heart donors. Now add to that the fact that Wuhan TV, an official city media group, spearheaded the media smear campaign against Falun Dafa in 1999, causing tremendous suffering to millions of practitioners. Because so many of the city’s authorities were committing crimes, Wuhan suffered divine retribution when it was revealed that the Wuhan Virus Lab was the origin of the COVID-19 outbreak. The prolonged lockdown destroyed many lives and businesses.
In that instant, I understood why I’d endured all those hardships and setbacks between the ages of 18 and 30. Had I not failed the college entrance exam, I would have enrolled in one of Wuhan’s two top-tier medical schools, which are affiliated with leading hospitals. It’s common for medical students to assist in surgical operations. Wouldn’t my hands then be stained with the crimes of organ harvesting and transplantation? And if I’d stayed at the hospital after graduation, wouldn’t I have aligned myself with evil?
I was offered a position in the ophthalmology department at the Chinese Academy of Sciences during graduate school admissions, but I declined it. The surface reason was that I had just lost my grandfather and didn’t want to be far from home at that time; I wanted to stay close to my parents. So I stayed at my home university for the seven-year program and continued my graduate studies there.
But the deeper reason was that corneal transplants are very common in ophthalmology. If I went into ophthalmology, wouldn’t I be covering my hands in sin? Beijing is inherently a den of evil. So when I didn’t go to the Chinese Academy of Sciences, it was because Master once again protected me.
To earn a PhD, one is required to do lab experiments involving extensive animal testing, and after graduation, it would be difficult to practice purely Traditional Chinese Medicine, so I didn’t pursue a PhD there.
I missed out on a public hospital position and now understand why. Ideological control in public hospitals is extremely strict. I was classified as dismissed, which allowed me to leave the system and meant I couldn’t apply for other government positions. Fortunately, this protected me from further ideological indoctrination within the system.
The intense training I experienced early in my career now appears to have been precisely what allowed me to gain invaluable experience in which I encountered a wide range of complex and challenging cases within a short timeframe. Some of the cases I managed were ones that most doctors might never see in their entire careers.
This laid a solid clinical foundation for my practice of TCM at a young age, enabling me to assess patient prognoses, avoid medical errors, and confidently take on difficult cases that other doctors would hesitate to accept. It paved the way for me to forge my own path in TCM.
Looking back, I realize I’ve been walking a path that leads away from the evil regime, away from wickedness, and back to tradition. The “good” schools and jobs I once pursued weren’t truly good—they were merely empty titles, even aligned with evil. Master has compassionately arranged every step of my journey, a path that truly benefits me.
With the resurgence of Traditional Chinese Medicine, admission scores at TCM universities have skyrocketed. My fallback option after failing my exams back then was, as I see now, over a decade later, the best choice.
I now often share my experiences with practitioners whose children are preparing for college entrance exams or job searches. Once you embark on the path of cultivation, you and your life are transformed.
Whether you encounter good or bad moments, don’t rush to judge. Instead, focus on the future, and you'll realize that everything—both positive and negative—ultimately leads to the best outcome.
Thank you, Master! You have put so much effort into your disciple, always giving me the very best.