I was kidnapped to a brainwashing gulag near Chatou.
The gulag was enclosed by a high wall. Its iron gate was shut twenty-four hours a day. There was a three-story building in it; inside the building was dark and gruesome.
There were over ten cells on either side of the hallway. All the cells’ doors were shut, with a woman standing on guard in the doorway of each cell.
A goon paced back and forth on the hallway twenty-four hours a day. Every now and then he peeked in the cells from a tiny piece of glass on the doors, which was covered up by a sheet of paper.
I was put in a cell on the first floor. The cell was tiny and dark. The only window was sealed up with steel sheets and steel bars. From the window I could see nothing but a high wall.
In the cell, there was a tiny bunk, a tiny pail and faucet for toileting and bath.
I was locked in the cell twenty-four hours a day. Only at night they made me take the pail to the toilet outside the cell to empty and clean the pail.
Four female guards took turns watching me in the cell twenty-four hours a day.
First thing my first morning in the gulag, one of the female guards bawled at me fiendishly, “Get up!”
After dressing, I quietly sat on the side of the bunk.
When the breakfast came, I didn’t eat. I had declared hunger strike the night I was kidnapped.
The guard bawled orders at me, telling me to do this and do that. I didn’t budge. Nevertheless she didn’t do anything to me. Maybe because she hadn’t received specific instructions as to how to handle me.
Suddenly, from the upstairs and next-door cells, came the dull sound of hitting people with a stick-like stuff, then came the sound produced when people, who had their mouths wrapped up by tapes, were struggling desperately.
Thereupon I heard the footsteps of several men dashing toward the cells where the sounds came from, asking while dashing, “Which room? Which room?”
Such sounds, such scenarios, I had heard and seen a lot while I was in the forced labor camps.
My heart was bleeding for my fellow practitioners suffering tortures.
Later I often heard such sounds, day and night, hearing several goons dashing to the cells to back up the executing of tortures.
When I had sat on the side of the bunk for a while, a middle-aged man came in. The guard said to me that he was the chief of this gulag.
I had heard of this person from my fellow practitioners who once were imprisoned in the gulag. He had been persecuting Dafa practitioners in numerous brutal methods.
“You are the Yiwen Tang? Have heard of, have heard of,” he said.
“She sits there and wouldn’t budge!” The guard lodged a complaint.
The man said in a tone of feigned kindness, “Then let her rest today. We have plenty of time. No rush. Right, Yiwen Tang?”
I didn’t look at him nor responded him.
For the rest of the day, a bunch of men and women came into the cell one by one, saying they were the teachers of this Law School and had come to teach me how to obey the law of the country. They said: Our government had banned Falun Gong, so practicing Falun Gong was disobeying the law of the country.
I utterly ignored them. Feeling very put out, they left the cell one by one after self-talking and self-listening for a little while.