A Heart for Freedom (30 page)

On the third day of New Year’s, my hosts returned from the country. They said nothing about the discussion we’d had before their departure. They knew how embarrassed I was about my misplaced trust.

Feng never came.

25

Escape to Hong Kong

After another month had passed, the rescue network transferred me to a new hiding place. Though I was still worried about Feng, I was grateful. As the network continually expanded, my protectors enlisted the help of someone who worked in the security department and managed to obtain an ID card for me. Now I would be able to transfer between locations by taking the train. I felt I had survived the worst of my ordeal and that freedom outside of China was only a matter of time. Still, one could never be too careful.

They transferred me back to the city, where once again I was by myself. One day a rescue worker arrived to take me to a Buddhist convention. I donned a quick disguise and soon was walking city streets for the first time since my flight south. The convention was held inside a massive, open sports arena, with tens of thousands packing the grandstands. No one paid the slightest attention to me, including the guards. Having the ID was a great boost to my confidence.

The Buddhist master leading the conference spoke to the huge crowd as if he were engaged in an intimate conversation. He urged us to relax and to practice our systematic breathing.

“The key to life,” he said, “consists of three words: truth, kindness, and endurance. With those three words, we can create a world of peace and kindness. We must let go of all the bad emotions, such as greed and hatred, which only poison our real selves. We must let them go and let our pasts go.”

He led us through an exercise of releasing the past and encouraged us to let everything go. When I closed my eyes, all the images of the soldiers’ advance at Tiananmen and the ensuing chaos flooded in. Around me, people began to cry, laugh, and scream as they faced their own issues. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. As more voices joined the screaming and loud cries, I was silent, but my body was shaking with grief.

The master encouraged us not to be afraid to let all the hurt, resentment, anger, and hatred go. His calm words were reassuring, and I felt a gentle wave of energy begin to move my body back and forth. As I swayed rhythmically, I felt the pain in my heart was healing and some internal blockages were breaking down.

“Open your heart,” the master said. “Let your heart fill with truth, kindness, and endurance.”

When he encouraged us to make a wish for the future, I wished I would make a successful escape and achieve true freedom.

By the time we left the stadium, it was dinnertime. The day had passed in a blink. My body felt healed, full of energy, and in a state of harmony.

* * *

With the spring came renewed hope. When Big Brother dropped in for a surprise visit, I was almost expecting him. I was no longer the same girl who had begun this journey ten months before. No longer regretful, frightened, or full of sorrow, I was calm and at peace with my destiny, even though I had no idea what that destiny might be.

I was sequestered at a location near the border with a couple who had a sweet teenage daughter. She and I soon became close.

One afternoon I heard a distinctive knock on the door, which I recognized as the rescue network’s special code. When I looked through the peephole, I saw Feng on the other side. Even though my heart was pounding, I didn’t open the door. I was upset with him for breaking his promise to come for me during the Spring Festival.

Soon my hosts returned and invited Feng inside. Big Brother, who accompanied Feng, gently told me I should not be playing games at this particular time. Feng could have been exposed and captured. I was embarrassed by my childish behavior.

When I asked Feng why he didn’t come as he’d promised, he looked at me with surprise.

“Did I really say that?” he asked. He had simply forgotten.

Big Brother explained that our opportunity to flee China was near. “The odds of success are fifty-fifty,” he said. “If we succeed, it will be very good. If not, it could be disastrous. What do you think?”

What did I think?
After almost a year in hiding, most of it separated from Feng, all I needed to hear was that there might be an opportunity to leave. I was more than ready to stop depending on the care of others and to stop putting others in danger.

“We’ll take it,” I said.

Feng seemed to agree, though I wasn’t entirely sure. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he seemed different. Gone was most of the warmth he’d expressed when we’d sworn our oath to go on living. He seemed detached and a little lofty. I thought this might be the result of meditation and our long separation. He returned to his own hiding place to await final preparations.

The night before our escape, I couldn’t sleep. I kept imagining how Feng and I would soon be reunited. Together we were going to reach a world of freedom. No longer would we live in perpetual fear.

When Feng and Big Brother returned, we were led down to the harbor. The evening breeze carried a salty, fishy smell, reminding me of home in Rizhao. The breeze drove away the humid daytime air and evaporated our anxious sweat. For a moment, it felt refreshing.

The time came to say farewell to Big Brother and the many others who had faithfully risked everything to protect us. As always, Big Brother was calm and in control, but his sweaty palms revealed the tension underneath. He wished us well and told us the last step in our journey would be in a
wèng
, or “jar,” a small space of confinement. He warned us that the success of the voyage was uncertain and would depend on our strength and preparation.

In the darkness we were led onto a boat, the kind that regularly plies the waters between the mainland and Hong Kong, and were quickly spirited into a large cargo box below deck. If all went well, by the following morning we would be in a different world. For the crossing, we were supplied with two bottles of water, a loaf of bread, and a small box of matches.

When the cover of the cargo box was closed, darkness thicker than night enveloped us—no stars, no lights, nothing. The air was instantly hot and humid and hard to breathe. The container stank of dead fish. Using our matches judiciously to light up the space when we grew claustrophobic, we saw the bottom of the box was full of water. Every two feet, wooden boards stuck out on which we could place our feet. To rest and conserve energy, we sat on one piece of wood and put our feet on another.

Comfort was not an option. The lid of the cargo box was tightly shut. There was no way back. I had been separated from Feng for such a long time that my heart leaped with joy that we were finally alone together. But I had to suppress my feelings and emotions to conserve my energy and maintain my composure. With one quick touch of our hands, Feng and I sat down and began meditating as we’d been taught.

I tried to visualize a peaceful body of water bathed in clear moonlight shining from high in the heavens. As willow trees and long branches moved gently in the breeze, I imagined myself on the top deck of the boat, in harmony with my surroundings. I realized that when we change how we perceive our situation and the world, we can alter our perspective from confinement to unlimited freedom and equip ourselves to adapt to any circumstance and survive.

Inside the blackness of the box, Feng and I had no concept of time. We had been told the voyage would take eight hours, but we had no idea how long it would be until the boat set sail.

As I continued to meditate, a hideous image of bones and skulls and rotting flesh suddenly appeared in my mind. A wave of fear swept through me, but Feng grabbed my hand before I could say anything.

“Did you see something?” he asked.

“Yes, did you see it too?”

When he described the same image I had seen, we were both shocked and frightened. The spirit of death had moved in on us. Feng struck a match. The flame illuminated the entire box. We saw nothing except the bare wood sides, the stairs, and the hatchway, which was tightly shut. Under the boards we sat on, the water was dark and dirty, and it was hard to see beneath the surface. As we gazed at the water, the flame reached the end of the match and died out. Darkness again enveloped us.

Feng and I gripped each other by the hand and began to chant the mantra we had learned from Big Brother: “May all the evil stay away.” As we prayed, another teaching of Big Brother occurred to me. In the Buddhist perspective of the world, our spirits must go through many levels to be born again, that is, liberated from earthly bondage: the level of hell and ghostliness, the level below the earth and the insects, the level of four-legged animals, the human level, the level of heaven, and the level of the Buddha. I had the feeling that before Feng and I could reach human freedom, we would have to be reborn to the world. At this moment, we were trying to survive hell. After intensive prayer, the hideous image vanished from our minds and the energy of sheer terror receded. As the night dragged on, our minds became blurred and we were on the verge of sleep.

Noises overhead awakened us from our drowsiness. We heard footsteps and the sound of things being moved. Afraid we might be discovered, we remained utterly silent and alert. After a while, the noises ceased, and all was quiet again. We later learned the crew had boarded the boat, but then the voyage had been rescheduled. A few crew members had remained on board and had been moving about. A member of our rescue team whom we called Little Brother had kept an eye on the situation, but with so many people coming and going, he couldn’t risk letting us out of the box.

By the second day, we had no idea whether it was night or day or how much longer we would have to wait. I reminded myself I had waited ten months and could wait a little bit longer if freedom was at the other end. But it took a lot of energy to make sure we weren’t losing our grip on our minds and hearts. I understood how people can go insane during times of solitude, waiting, and darkness. I thought of my mother and all she’d been through. I could not let evil defeat me that way. I refused to give in.

After what seemed an eternity, we heard the sound of what we guessed was an engine starting up, and the box began to vibrate. Ripples of water beneath our feet gave us the impression of movement, though it was hard to detect any forward motion of the boat. In the dark I touched Feng’s hand in excitement. We had survived the first great test. Finally we were on our way.

The renewed anticipation of freedom put us both in a good mood. Feng began to tell me what he’d been doing during our long period of separation. But when he told me he’d fallen in love with a Hong Kong TV star and had made up his mind to find her once he reached freedom, it was as if he had driven a knife into my heart. As it had the night we’d watched
Doctor Zhivago
two years before, his confession rocked our marriage to its foundation.

After the experiences we’d been through together and the way we’d bonded, I could not believe he would cast me aside for someone he’d seen on television. Yet we were still in grave danger. I couldn’t let something like this distract my focus. I went back into meditation and ignored Feng’s chatter. This prevented the pain from penetrating my heart as deeply as it once had.

* * *

The heat, the vibration, and the roar of the engine weakened my mind and will. I started to feel seasick as I drifted into sleep. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been dozing when a sudden jolt snapped me awake. The engine had died, and the sensation of motion had ceased. In the dark, Feng and I couldn’t tell what was happening. We heard noises overhead, both loud and muffled.

Feng had reached his limit. “I’m going crazy,” he whispered. “How do we know this isn’t some kind of a trick? Maybe they’ve left us to die. Maybe they never intended to let us out. I can’t take this anymore. I’m going up. I’m going to open the hatch right now.”

Feng felt sure we’d arrived at our port of destination. He couldn’t believe nobody had come to let us out. Perhaps the person who had put us here had forgotten us or passed out. He couldn’t stand to wait any longer. He was going to take the matter into his own hands.

“Please don’t do it,” I said. “They may be just outside, waiting for us to open the hatch so they can seize us.”

Feng did not agree.

“If you don’t care how much time and effort we’ve put into our escape for the last ten months,” I said, “if you don’t care what might happen to us if you’re wrong, feel free.” My strength and resolve were fading fast.

The stubborn Feng had resurfaced. He climbed over me in the dark, and I could hear him climbing the ladder. I continued to meditate. Whoever came below would find me in a state of peace.

As the noise above grew louder and clearer, Feng stopped and came back down the ladder. For whatever reason, he did not open the hatch.

Footsteps came and went outside our enclosure. We heard some loud shouts. Finally the engine started up again, and the sense of motion returned. We had only been making a stop.

After that experience, which could have derailed our entire effort, Feng became calmer. He sat back down and announced, “This time I’ll stay where I am, even if it means we have to stay here until we die.” This was not a pleasant thought, but he had a point. The hot and humid box felt like a tomb.

As our bodies weakened, all we had left were our wills and our faith. Not knowing how much longer it might be or how many more tests awaited us, we were compelled to give up all pretense of control, to let faith transport us to our destiny, whatever that might be.

As the engine labored on, I dozed. In my dreams I saw an image so bright I felt it could blind me. We were bathed in dazzling sunlight, overlooking a beautiful river. Flowers bloomed on the surface of the water. At that moment, someone lifted the hatch.