The Prison Guard’s Redemption

This is a record of an interview with Li Wenyou, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Dharma-Nature Land. This account reflects upon his life and his time as a prison guard in the hells. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Faxin, on October 18, 2024.

Li Wenyou speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. Throughout the cycle of rebirth, spanning countless lives, I have finally seen the Buddha today. The emotion is beyond words! I have finally reached the true home of my spirit.

In the past, I took every life so seriously, which is why I remained trapped in the whirlpool of samsara, unable to find my way out. Now, I believe that everything is the Buddha’s arrangement. The Buddha arranged for me to wake up at this very moment, to truly resolve to leave this cycle behind.

I am Li Wenyou, and my family were farmers for generations.

A Legacy of Generosity

Although we were farmers for many generations, the prosperity of each era was different. The most brilliant period was during my great-grandfather’s time. Through his own hard work and intelligence, he rose from nothing to become a major landowner. This was only because my great-grandfather possessed a vast mind-capacity. Every year, he would donate the rice grown in his fields to villages in need. The better the harvest, the more he would give away.

My grandfather once told me that during one particularly severe drought, the harvest in our fields was reduced to only ten percent. That ten percent was barely enough for our own survival, let alone for selling or donating. Yet, my great-grandfather knew that villagers were waiting in need. So, he used his own savings to purchase the harvests of other farmers and distributed them to the villagers who were struggling. He could not bear to see the villagers go hungry and suffer; he was simply happy to do what he could.

My great-grandfather’s example influenced my grandfather, who inherited the farmland. My grandfather did not expand the business; he simply maintained what we had. He followed in my great-grandfather’s footsteps, continuing to donate rice to the villagers. My grandfather knew this was my great-grandfather’s wish, so he guarded it well.

The Shadow of Addiction

However, things changed when the responsibility passed to my father’s generation. My father never had to worry about food or clothing growing up. As the second son, he was not expected to work the fields; only his elder brother was required to learn the various skills needed to take over the family business.

The business was already set to be handed over to the eldest son, and the transition was nearly complete. My grandfather was preparing to retire. But unexpectedly, two days before the handover, the family found my father’s elder brother fallen on his bed, having passed away. The whole family was heartbroken; we could not accept such news.

After my father’s elder brother passed away, my grandfather had no choice but to transfer the business to my father. Initially, my father went to the fields every day to learn. But my father’s character was quite restless; such a lifestyle felt like being a caged bird to him. He would often try to escape, slipping away whenever he found the chance.

When my father was thirty-eight, in his relentless pursuit of excitement, he became addicted to gambling. After that, he began staying away from home for long periods. Sometimes he would leave in the evening and not return until the next morning.

One day, my father came home very late and began rummaging through the house. The noise was so loud it woke everyone up. When we turned on the lights, we saw my father looking dishevelled, his expression one of utter helplessness. He grabbed my mother’s hand and said he needed a large sum of money, or his life would be in danger. My mother asked, 'How much do you need?' My father replied, 'Two hundred thousand.' My mother cried out, 'Two hundred thousand! That is our entire year’s living expenses. If you take that, how will we survive?'

My father said impatiently, 'Just give it to me first; I’ll figure out the living expenses later.' My mother burst into tears, but my father ignored her completely. He ran back to the room, frantically searching until he found where my mother kept the savings. They struggled, and eventually, my mother fell to the floor. My father quickly grabbed the money and bolted out the door. Despite my mother’s desperate screams, he never even looked back.

A Teacher’s Path of Compassion

Seeing such a scene, I knew in my heart that this would not be the only time. My father continued to gamble away our family’s land, piece by piece. Within six months, all our large tracts of land were gone. Without the harvest, there was no talk of donating rice to the villagers.

My mother, fearing my father would gamble away the house we lived in, hid the title deed in a place where it wouldn't be found. But my father did it anyway. When my mother refused to hand over the deed, debt collectors soon arrived. From that moment on, our family lived in constant fear. My mother was always crying, and debt collectors would bang on our door incessantly. We had to keep our doors locked tight.

One day, a debt collector even held a knife to my throat to threaten my parents, which terrified me into tears. Fortunately, it was just a threat, and no real harm was done. That night, my mother secretly woke me up and told me to pack my bag. She held my hand, and we walked through the darkness for a long, long time. I kept asking, 'Where are we going?' My mother didn't answer; she just walked forward with determination. We walked until I was exhausted, until I was nearly asleep, and finally, we boarded a bus. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a room. My mother was sitting at a round table with her back to me. I asked softly, 'Where is this?' She said, 'Your Sixth Aunt’s house.' I had never heard of her. My mother just stroked my hair and said, 'We will be staying here for a while.'

Although my mother didn't say it, I knew she had suffered a great injustice. I told myself, 'I must succeed; I must take care of my mother.' My mother sent me to school, and I studied very hard. I eventually became a teacher. With a stable salary, my mother and I rented our own place. I am so grateful for my Sixth Aunt’s care over those years; to me, she is an elder I deeply respect. These years, my mother always told me, 'Don't look only at your father’s faults. When I first met him, he was a good man; he just lost his way in the end.' She told me about my great-grandfather’s deeds of helping others. I decided to follow in his footsteps and become someone who could help people.

After becoming a teacher, I taught with great dedication. I would spend my own time after class tutoring students who were struggling. I discovered that many 'problem children' were struggling because of their family situations, which prevented them from growing up in a normal environment. I could understand this, so I gave them extra attention and guidance. I understood their psychological states because I had been there myself. With that background, I could empathise with them and bridge the distance between us.

From the Hell Realms to the Western Pure Land

After I had the causal conditions to study Buddhism, I understood the importance of giving. Giving is not about the size of the gift, but the intention behind it. I passed this concept on to the children and organised activities where they could donate their gently used items to children in orphanages. I wanted them to know that others were suffering more than they were, so they should be content and grateful. I taught them to be grateful to their parents and teachers. Seeing the children find joy in this, and learning and realising the truth, made me very happy.

My life was simple. When I was free, I would volunteer at the temple, and I would share my experiences with the children, letting them know that I was growing alongside them. In my later years, I moved into the temple and became a long-term volunteer. My heart was filled with joy every day, and I hoped to serve until my very last moment. At fifty-three, my legs could no longer walk, but my mouth kept chanting Namo Amituofo. The temple sent volunteers to help me, and my heart was filled with gratitude. I kept chanting,一心 wanting to follow the Buddha. Half a year later, I passed away. After leaving my body, my spirit wandered for I don't know how long, until I entered a flower vase in the temple. This was a task I did every day—cleaning the vases. I never expected that my attachment to this task would lead me into the space of the vase. I continued to chant Namo Amituofo there until the King of Hell sent someone to bring me to the Hall of the King of Hell. The King of Hell judged my many lives very clearly. Because I had done many good deeds, he allowed me to become a prison guard.

During my time as a guard, I saw too many scenes of hell, scenes of suffering that played out every day. I wanted to help, but the laws of karma and cause and effect existed; the stubborn beings could not hear my advice, so I could only chant Namo Amituofo for them. Fortunately, the sound of Practitioner Su’s Dharma talks entered the hells, allowing the beings there to hear them, which also helped me wake up. I am so grateful that Practitioner Su explained the Buddha and the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss so clearly, and personally led the way to help beings. This made me truly vow to follow the Buddha.

I am grateful that the Buddha fulfilled my wish, allowing me to be personally guided by Practitioner Su today to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I chanted Namo Amituofo loudly, saw the Buddha, and felt such gratitude. I hope more beings can be liberated from the cycle of rebirth and no longer be entangled by karma. I am so grateful for the causal conditions that allowed me to see the Buddha today.

Namo Amituofo.

Li Wenyou, with palms joined."