I am 50 years old, born in Laiyang, Shandong Province. In the morning of March 5, 2000, I went to the Civil Appealing Office of the National People's Congress to appeal. I was told that it was the wrong place and I should go to the one at Yongdingmen. I took a detour to visit Tiananmen Square but was arrested. I was detained at a police station close to Tiananmen Square. Over 300 practitioners were already there when I walked in. I knew if I told the policemen who I was and where I lived, I would be escorted back for further detention in my hometown. Falun Dafa was confronted by a gross injustice and I hadn't gotten a chance to appeal, how could I be sent back? I decided not to reveal my identification, so did some other fellow practitioners. Then policemen put us into a separate room. They closed the curtain and started to torture us. We were handcuffed from the back with one arm over the shoulder. Then they ordered us to bend down in a 90 degree position for about 2 hours. Some practitioners lost consciousness. Maybe because the police were afraid of causing death, they decided to transfer us to local police branches.

A plainclothes agent from Laixi asked me whether I came from his county. I didn't answer him. He got angry and beat my hands with an iron bar many times. My hands turned purple immediately. I still didn't identify myself. In the evening, a policeman from Zhaoyuan suspected that I came from his county. He put me in the trunk and drove me to their liaison office in Beijing. I couldn't breath well while I was in the trunk. Once I got there, they started to torture me again. They handcuffed me and slapped my face. When they were tired of using their hands, they used leather shoes to slap my face. My face turned black and purple, my mouth was bleeding, but my heart was very calm. They continued until one policeman was out of breath and complained of his hands aching. I felt pity for them because they didn't know how much sinful karma they had committed when they tortured people. No matter how they beat me and cursed me, my heart was not disturbed. I conducted myself as a practitioner without complaint and hatred. Finally they called in a policeman from Laiyang who identified me. I was taken to the liaison office of Laiyang in Beijing and was tortured again. They ordered me to bend down and they hit my neck with a heavy object (I couldn't tell what it was). I suddenly felt dizzy, and started to throw up. They were scared and asked me whether I had any diseases. I answered, "A genuine practitioner has no diseases." He asked me what diseases I had had before I started practice. I answered, "pleurisy and pyogenic ascites, and I almost lost my life. But I got cured by practicing Falun Gong." He shook his head and said, "I will not beat you any more. You must have some mental problems. I will send you to a local mental hospital."

On the way back to Laiyang, they handcuffed me with the head of my village, who came to Beijing in order to find me. When we got on the train, I asked them to open my handcuff. They did. They asked me to sleep on the top berth and took away my shoes and coat. At midnight I opened my eyes and got up. I looked at those officers who were supposed to watch me. They seemed to have fallen asleep. I decided to get off the train. I was barefoot, with a sweater on. I followed the crowd and got off the train. A policeman stopped me for my ticket. I said that I wanted to use bathroom first. He pointed out the way to me. I walked a short distance, then started to run. He started chasing me and threw rocks at me from behind. Suddenly I found an iron fence about one man tall. I ran towards it and climbed over. But the fence stopped the policeman.

I walked out of the rail station. It was dark. I had no friends or relatives to turn to, nor did I have any money in my pockets. My two feet were hurt badly by the stones on the road. It was also very cold in early spring. I didn't have any coat on. What should I do? Where should I go? At dawn I was told that I was in Zibuo, about 500 kilometers from Beijing. "Yes, I will beg on my way to Beijing." I told myself. Once the determination was made, I found a pair of worn-out sleepers from a trashcan. Even though it was worn-out, I was still very happy. Two days later, I found a better pair of sleepers. A few more days later, those two pairs of sleepers were totally worn-out. Coincidentally, from another trashcan I found a pair of worn-out sport shoes with shoelaces. I was overjoyed. Now I was able to walk much faster.

Along my way, I begged for food when I was hungry. Sometimes I have to pick up some rotten orange, apple, or radish from trashcans. The worst part was having no place to sleep. I had to hide myself in a straw stack. After midnight, the temperature would fall below zero. Without a coat or cover, I was frozen and couldn't fall asleep. I had to get up and hurried on with my journey. I knew Falun Dafa practitioners have to bear the hardship knowingly. After eleven days of hardships, I finally got to Beijing. It was the evening of March 16.