Preface: 30 years ago, doctors said I only had three months to live. Now, at 78, my health keeps improving, and I feel younger with each passing day.
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One day in October 1995, I sat in Dr. Hu’s office at the ENT department of Anqing First Hospital. Her expression was somber.
“There are two tumors in your sinuses, and things don’t look good,” she said gravely. Then came the crushing words: “You may have only 3 months.”
She handed me a treatment plan, but I barely glanced at it. “I don’t have much time to waste,” I murmured. Strangely, faced with the prospect of death, I did not panic. Perhaps this was fate.
My name is Yang Li. I was born in 1947. Growing up in Anqing, Anhui Province, I was Number 4 among six kids. My parents worked at a bank, but their true passion was the performing arts. Under their influence, four of us siblings eventually became performing artists.
At Age 12, I attended the Anqing Arts School, where I studied Huangmei Opera. My training covered a wide range of skills, including stage movements, civil and martial roles, and tumbling techniques.
In 1963, at 16, I graduated and joined the Youth Troupe of the Anqing Huangmei Opera Company. We toured extensively across Anhui, Jiangxi, Hubei, and Jiangsu provinces, performing traditional Huangmei Opera to widespread acclaim.
When the Cultural Revolution erupted in 1966, many performers were sent to the countryside for hard labor. I was fortunate to keep my job, but my stage career ended due to vocal cord injuries. I became a costume designer and makeup artist.
In 1967, I married a mechanical engineer, and we had a son the following year.
After the Cultural Revolution, the troupe experienced a renaissance, producing many plays, films, and TV dramas. My artistic contributions were highly praised, but the intense workload and frequent overtime began to take a toll on my health. After each major production, I would fall seriously ill.
From childhood, I was prone to illness. Typhoid fever, hepatitis A and B, gastrointestinal disorders, rhinitis, pharyngitis, bronchitis, hyperthyroidism, coronary heart disease, arteriosclerosis, and frozen shoulder plagued my life. Hospitalization became routine. However, none of these compared to what lay ahead.
In 1990, I began experiencing severe stomach pain and vomiting blood. In September, a gastroscopy revealed a malignant tumor approximately 2.5 x 3 inches in size. Doctors insisted on immediate surgery, warning that without it, I had only three months to live.
The nine-hour operation removed 90% of my stomach and the tumor. Post-surgery, the prognosis was grim. Doctors estimated I had at most two years left and recommended chemotherapy.
At home, I survived on liquid foods like rice soup. Malnutrition and chemotherapy left me frail, with hair loss, a weight of 90 pounds, and a white blood cell count of 2,100—well below the normal range of 45,000 to 11,000. Chemotherapy was halted, leaving my recovery to my immune system.”
By late summer 1993, sharp pain in my right elbow revealed cancer had spread, with X-rays showing honeycomb-like bone damage. A nerve block gave brief relief, but further treatment was ruled out, and I was advised to rest at home.
In autumn 1994, strange sensations began on my left cheek, resembling crawling ants. My left eye watered, my ear clogged, and bloody nasal discharge appeared. I delayed seeking help, and my condition worsened.
In September 1995, a CT scan at Anqing First Hospital revealed two pea-sized tumors in my left sinus. Dr. Hu somberly explained that a biopsy was unnecessary. “It’s too close to the brain and could be life-threatening,” she said, recommending conservative treatment.
“How long do I have?” I asked.
“Do you really want to know?” she replied.
“Yes,” I said, bracing myself.
“Maybe three months,” she said gravely.
Death seemed like a release, but the thought of my family’s anguish—my husband, my son, my elderly father, and my siblings—was unbearable. Watching their suffering was harder than enduring my own.
Three months passed. I was still in pain, but I was alive.
In October 1995, a colleague lent me a book titled China Falun Gong. As I read it carefully, I felt every sentence resonating deeply. Following the book’s instructions, I began learning the Falun Gong exercises.
Remarkably, my symptoms began to ease. My appetite and energy returned, the pain in my arm disappeared, and the discomfort on my face vanished. One day, I felt an itch in my nose. I took a deep breath and spat out a peanut-sized hard lump. Incredibly, the tumor had expelled itself.
By spring 1996, I joined a local Falun Gong practice group. When acquaintances saw me, they were shocked: “You’re still alive?” I joyfully shared my recovery story with them. From that day forward, I practiced Falun Gong daily, steadily regaining my health and vitality. My husband wholeheartedly supported me, and our family life became harmonious. With newfound peace of mind, my son left for the US in 1999 to pursue graduate studies.
My miraculous recovery inspired many. My elderly father and a sister also became practitioners.
In July 1999, the Chinese Communist Party began persecuting Falun Gong practitioners, making me a primary target. For over four years, I endured constant surveillance, house raids, detentions, fines, and four abductions to brainwashing centers, each lasting over 20 days. Despite the pressure, I refused to renounce Falun Gong and shared my recovery story with my persecutors, leaving them speechless.
My husband, though not a practitioner, stood by me and defended the truth during those difficult times. His support, however, made him a target too. He endured years of persecution, including imprisonment, which took a severe toll on his health. In 2005, he passed away, but on his deathbed, he urged me to continue practicing Falun Gong.
In 2010, a senior official from the Six-Ten Office—a CCP agency dedicated to eradicating Falun Gong—visited the brainwashing center where I was detained. He came to make one final attempt to force me to abandon my beliefs after numerous failed efforts. Calmly, I recounted my story of healing through Falun Gong and exposed the CCP’s horrific crimes. I even encouraged him to quit the Party, which made him visibly agitated. “How dare you?” he exclaimed. Staying composed, I replied, “I’m saying this for your safety. Regardless of how you treat me, I sincerely wish you a bright future.”
After a long silence, he finally said, “You should go join your son in America—and don’t ever come back.”
The process of obtaining my passport was surprisingly smooth. In December 2011, I was on a flight to the US.
Now I live in San Jose, California, close to my son’s family. For nearly 30 years, I have enjoyed robust health and boundless energy, without ever needing medical care or medication. At 78, I lead a fulfilling and active life, dedicating four hours each day to reading Falun Gong books and practicing the exercises.
I frequently go to the Chinese Consulate in San Francisco to raise awareness about the persecution of Falun Gong and regularly share insightful articles and videos on my Facebook, YouTube, and two X accounts to spread the truth. Over the past decade, I have also consistently made phone calls to people in mainland China, helping them see through the CCP’s lies and embrace the truth.
My son’s family fully supports Falun Gong, and my grandchildren are both intelligent and kind-hearted. Recently, my granddaughter gave birth to a baby boy, making me a proud great-grandmother. Four generations together—it’s truly a special fortune for us!
I am deeply grateful to Falun Gong and Master Li Hongzhi for giving me a second life and countless blessings.
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