“Why is your face glowing red while you didn’t sleep all night?” one of the watching-inmates asked me in surprise the following morning.
I was running a temperature. But I said nothing.
The other watching-inmate said, “Your feet are swollen badly. People usually have such swollen feet after standing for six days straight. Now as long as you verbally consent to give up Falun Gong, I’ll let you go to bed immediately!”
I stood there saying nothing.
Thereupon the two watching-inmates began swearing hard at me, saying the guards would scold them if they couldn’t make me yield, and that my refusing to yield was preventing them from becoming free (Chatou had promised to all the watching-inmates: The more successfully they tortured Falun Gong practitioners, the earlier they were released).
I kept silent, letting them swear as they pleased.
My legs had become extremely stiff and leaden, hurting like being cut by a dozen of knives. They could fail to hold on and collapse at any minute.
But I wouldn’t allow myself to collapse.
I had resolved to break through this tribulation in a dignified and upright manner, thereby shaking evil.
At night, I heard one of the watching-inmates whispering to the patrolling-inmate outside the cells by the cell window, “Her feet are swollen horribly. Who knows what would happen. We have got to report to the guards, thereby preventing them from shifting the responsibility onto us once anything happens to her. The guards are just using us. We can’t trust them. We have got to guard against them.”