The White Robe of Compassion: A Prison Guard's Journey

Su Meiyou was a dedicated physician who spent her life serving in epidemic zones and impoverished regions. After her passing, she served as a prison guard in the hells, where she eventually sought deliverance through the teachings of Practitioner Su. This interview, recorded on July 19, 2025, captures her journey from a healer in the human world to her final liberation in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

Su Meiyou speaks:

"At this very moment, we have truly attained happiness.

Today, we sixty prison guards have been blessed by the compassion of Practitioner Su, who guided us to the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. Every one of our spirits has endured endless cycles of being reincarnated throughout our many lives; if it were not for the help of Practitioner Su, we would still be wandering, continuing to suffer in the darkness, unable to find an exit or wait for salvation. Now that we are truly liberated, our gratitude is beyond words; we can only keep chanting Buddha's name and making prostrations to the Buddha.

Gratitude to Namo Amituofo. Gratitude to Practitioner Su."

A Life of Purpose and Privilege

"Reflecting on my this lifetime—if you ask me, 'Was it bitter?' It was, but within that bitterness lay a light, a sense of happiness that I considered the most precious thing of all.

I was born into the Su family. At that time, our family was a pillar of the town, known as a prestigious household. My grandfather and great-grandfather were both involved in commerce and local government, and my father continued this path. Our family assets were substantial, and we had many visitors. People called me 'Miss Su' for my entire life.

Although outsiders saw us as wealthy, our family discipline was strict: 'What is ours, we guard well; what is not ours, we do not take a single cent.' We never used underhanded means in business, and we remained incorruptible in politics, which earned us the respect and trust of the town. This family ethos subtly influenced me; although I never lacked food or clothing, I never developed arrogance."

The Choice of a Healer

"My parents had only me. My father invested heavily in my education, hiring teachers, purchasing books, and arranging for my studies and language training. My mother was gentle and often reminded me, 'Wealth and status must not cloud your heart.' I was born with a love for people and small animals, and I never had my guard up when interacting with others. The neighbors said my smile was 'like a small lamp,' and they said I did not act like a wealthy young lady, but rather like the girl next door.

From a young age, my ambition was to become a doctor. I did not want to inherit the business, nor did I want to enter politics. When I told my father, 'I want to be a doctor,' he paused for a moment, then nodded solemnly: 'If you have decided, then do it. I believe in you.' It was not indulgence; he understood that whatever I set my mind to, I would do with all my might.

In that era, female doctors were rare, and there was significant resistance. Some advised me, 'Studying so much is too exhausting; just marry into a good family.' I only smiled faintly. My heart was clear: if I could become a healer, those hands would not exist to earn money, but to alleviate suffering."

Facing the Depths of Human Need

"The path of studying medicine was long and arduous—days and nights of reading, internships, observations, records, being scolded, and being questioned. I did not fear the exhaustion, the pale lights of the operating room at night, or the heavy heart after a failed resuscitation. What I feared were the eyes of patients begging for life, yet unable to receive equal aid. Because of this, every practice and every memorization of anatomical charts reminded me: 'This is not for achievement, but for that lonely, helpless patient in the future.'

Finally, I obtained my qualifications. Many asked me, 'Which major hospital will you work at?' I answered almost without hesitation: I chose the remote epidemic zones of Africa.

My family was shocked. My mother was worried, and my father remained silent for a long time before saying, 'Since your heart is set, let us prepare what we can to help you.' He arranged for nearly ten reliable attendants to provide protection and logistics.

When I stepped onto that hot, barren land, I felt for the first time that no matter how much education I had received, it was not enough to face such deprivation: lack of medicine, lack of clean water, lack of nutrition, and above all, lack of hope. The lines of people waiting for treatment stretched from the broken sheds to the cracked mud, the children's eyes gray with thirst."

The Healer's Resolve

"I kept myself very humble, learning the language while practicing how to make correct judgments with so few resources. Not long after, an epidemic broke out. In less than three weeks, hundreds of lives were lost. No one knew the source, and there was no effective medicine. The sounds of crying, moaning, and pleading hit me like waves, one after another.

A child of about seven knelt before me, skin and bone, kowtowing incessantly: 'Please, save my father and mother.' I looked down at his trembling little hands, and my heart felt as if it had been struck. The urge to save him surged through my whole body, yet I knew that the oral medicine and temporary IV drips I could distribute were merely a drop in the bucket.

During that time, no other medical team was willing to enter. The epidemic zone was locked down; I was almost the only healer left. Someone urged me to evacuate: 'Doctor, if you do not leave now, you will be trapped here too.' I replied, 'I will leave, but I want to try one more round.' I used every method I knew—isolation, triage, rehydration, ventilation, fever reduction, and disinfection—writing records at night and running about during the day. Eventually, it was not my will that failed, but my body. I collapsed on the hot, damp mud and was forced to leave the epidemic zone upon waking. At that moment, I understood: staying alive was for the sake of more people who could be saved in the future.

After leaving, I did not return home to recuperate. I redirected the resources I had raised and established basic health education, teaching local youth to identify symptoms and perform basic treatments. Rather than letting the rescue stop with me, it was better to plant seeds in ten or twenty future helpers. This philosophy later became my medical principle as I travelled from place to place throughout my life."

A Life Dedicated to Others

"In my youth, I was stationed in Africa; in middle age, I moved to the malaria belts of inland Southeast Asia and the malnourished villages in the mountains; in my later years, I returned to the remote, cold regions of China to serve the elderly, the helpless, and those without money for medical care. I saw children cast out by witchcraft, young people left with missing limbs from war, and women haunted by post-disaster trauma. Some said, 'Why do you not stay in a hospital with good equipment? It is such a pity.' I knew clearly in my heart—if I were trapped in comfort, my heart would slowly lose that initial vibration of compassion.

As for my family, my parents tried several times in my later years to arrange a marriage for me. I thanked them but declined. It was not that I disregarded marriage, but that my heart had long been distributed to countless unfamiliar faces. If I were to organise a small family, I feared I would fail the other person, and I feared reducing the strength I could invest in rescue.

I lived to be over eighty. In my old age, my hands were not as steady, and my vision was not as good as before, but I still made it a habit to do my rounds. Until the day of my passing, I opened that old wooden box in the early morning—inside were the 'retirement life supplies' I had prepared for others but never truly owned myself. I stared at that white doctor's robe in a daze: so, I had once thought that one day I would take off my armour while wearing it, but in the end, I was walking directly toward another journey."

The Spirit in the White Robe

"After I stopped breathing, my spirit did not dissipate; instead, it merged into a white robe that I had not worn in life, yet with which I had a deep connection. That white robe belonged to a young doctor who, like me in my youth, was full of enthusiasm and often volunteered for medical missions. He did not know that I was inside that white robe, gently protecting his heart with thought power, so that when he faced exhaustion, temptation, or fear, he would not retreat.

Once, he faced a situation where the patient's family was agitated, equipment was scarce, and his peers were urging him, 'Do not keep pushing yourself.' Just as he was about to give up, I vibrated gently inside the white robe, and that thought transformed into a clarity in his chest: 'I came here to reduce the number of cries in the future.' He stayed on. The fibers of the white robe had absorbed sweat, bloodstains, and the smell of disinfectant, and my spirit had witnessed rescue and farewells time and again. Finally, this doctor retired, folded the white robe respectfully, and touched it with reluctance. At that touch, I knew the connection was complete. The white robe was put into a box, and I departed from it.

At that very instant, two black-clad officials appeared. Their faces were dignified, not cold. I pressed my palms together. They said, 'Su Meiyou, come with us.' I was taken into the underworld and arrived at the Yama Hall.

King Yama told me that I had accumulated much hidden merit in my life and granted me the position of a prison guard.

The scenes of hell were even more tragic than the epidemic zones in the human world—there, the suffering had no medicine, no painkillers, only the burning, cutting, pressing, piercing, and freezing cold caused by karma. Those spirits wailed, mourned, scratched, and repented. I felt for the first time: no matter how difficult it is in the human world, at least one can change, and there are still choices; in hell, there is no turning of the mind, and the suffering is endless."

Deliverance to the Western Pure Land

"I stood by the raging flames, and a silent question arose in my heart: 'What exactly does it take to truly leave suffering behind?' This thought went unanswered for a long time. Until one day, a soft, unobstructed light appeared in the darkness, and within the light was a clear Dharma sound. It was Practitioner Su giving a Dharma talk.

At first, I did not understand everything, but phrase after phrase of the Dharma allowed my heart to open layer by layer.

I began to counsel everyone in hell to chant Buddha's name, listen to the Dharma, and be repenting. Time and again, I witnessed with my own eyes the Buddha-light taking them away, and that sense of relief was even deeper than successfully saving someone in the human world.

I also made a vow: 'May I be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss and save more who are sinking.'

Today, the vow has been fulfilled. I, along with the other fifty-nine prison guards, have been guided by the Dharma Body of Practitioner Su and have stepped steadily onto the path to the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

I prostrate before the Buddha:

Gratitude to Namo Amituofo.

Gratitude to Practitioner Su.

Namo Amituofo.

Su Meiyou prostrates."