The summer rain and sunbeams interlace,
As Righteous Thoughts guard the inner space.
No speed demanded, and no outcomes sought,
One line of mercy breaks what shadow wrought.
Across the land where walls of silence rise,
The truth travels beneath the guarded skies.
No border binds a compassionate heart,
And every step becomes a sacred start.
The Summer Light and the Echoes of the Heart
Rain pattered gently against the auditorium roof, blending with summer sunlight that filtered through the glass windows.
The national Fa conference began without banners, slogans, or hollow cheers. Practitioners from across the country sat together in quiet concentration, like raindrops gathering into a river.
Within that space, stories of steadfastness unfolded:
❖ Some spoke of guarding their Righteous Thoughts through difficult trials.
❖ Others described their mistakes and how they had found the strength to stand again.
Hoa Long listened quietly. He did not compare himself with others or seek encouragement. Instead, he used their experiences to examine his own heart, as though looking into a clear pool after summer rain. He saw that his compassion still contained subtle distinctions between people, and that his diligence had not yet reached the consistency he aspired to.
There was no self-pity, only a simple realization: If shortcomings existed, he still had work to do.
The Secular Gaze and the Fixed Axis
Across the auditorium, some eyes were warm and welcoming, while others were cold and skeptical. A few looked at Hoa Long as though asking: “What have you done for the Fa?” Others offered only a quiet sneer before turning away.
Hoa Long's heart remained unmoved. He understood that the secular gaze was simply another layer of the worldly matrix. Rain and sunlight could exist together, but only Righteous Thoughts could keep his moral character steady amid the fluctuations of human emotion.
A Conversation Without Borders
During the interlude, Hoa Long met a middle-aged practitioner in the corridor. They exchanged a few words about ordinary life before the man spoke about his quiet project:
“Lately, I mainly clarify the facts to people in China through the internet. I send electronic letters quietly. Not many, but consistently, every day.”
He paused, looking into the distance:
“Over there, information is blocked by layers of censorship. Countless people have never had the chance to hear the full truth. We don't decide their destiny for them; we simply open another door so they can make their own choice.”
Hoa Long said nothing, yet something shifted deep within him. He suddenly understood that his path did not have to resemble anyone else's. He did not need to stand where crowds gathered, nor did he need ideal circumstances. If an ordinary method could carry the truth through invisible barriers to reach souls in the dark, then perhaps that was precisely the path prepared for him.
Stolen novel; please report.
Compassion required no borders.
The Thin Scrap of Paper
Before leaving the conference, the practitioner handed Hoa Long a small, folded piece of paper. It was not professionally printed, containing only a few handwritten lines describing the technical steps.
The final line had been underlined with care:
“Do not rush. Chase no outcomes. Hold only a single, pure conviction: Let them know the truth.”
Hoa Long folded the paper and placed it carefully in his pocket. He felt a quiet sense of relief. He had not found a shortcut, but a path suited to his own circumstances. For the first time, the cold world of the internet appeared to him as something far greater than a mere secular tool—it was another battlefield where a disciple could fulfill his sacred vow.
The Digital Frontier
When Hoa Long returned home, he sat before his old computer. Rain tapped against the porch outside, while summer light slipped through the wooden window frame. The room was deathly quiet.
He opened a new mailbox and began typing. He did not choose a particular person to persuade, nor did he wait for a response. He simply remembered the words on the small paper: Do not rush. Chase no outcomes. Let them know the truth.
Five electronic addresses disappeared into the digital network. Nothing dramatic happened—no thunder broke across the sky, and no immediate sign appeared on the screen. It was an ordinary act, yet Hoa Long understood that cultivation was often carried forward through such quiet steps.
The First Echoes
Some days, the letters passed through the digital network without difficulty. On one such morning, a brief reply appeared on his screen:
“Thank you. I have never heard about these things before. I will look into them myself.”
Hoa Long read it calmly, feeling neither excitement nor pride. He simply closed the monitor, as though finishing one page before turning to the next. There were no numbers to celebrate and no outcomes to chase—only the next step.
When the Crucible Reached the Screen
Other days were filled with friction:
❖ Letters bounced back repeatedly.
❖ The system displayed unexplained technical errors.
❖ Accounts were suspended soon after being created.
At times, Hoa Long felt an invisible, heavy pressure lurking behind the cold glow of the monitor. He did not become frustrated. He stopped, closed his eyes, and sent forth Righteous Thoughts.
Rather than fighting the technical obstacles directly, he examined his own mind: Am I becoming impatient? Am I chasing an outcome? Am I trying to validate myself?
The questions were simple, but the answers were not always comfortable. He gradually realized that external interference was merely a mirror reflecting his internal attachments.
When Righteous Thoughts Become Natural
Over time, Hoa Long stopped separating the act of sending letters from sending forth Righteous Thoughts:
❖ Before beginning, his heart became completely still.
❖ While working, his resolve remained upright and steady.
❖ Afterward, he let go completely, leaving no trace in his mind.
Righteous Thoughts were no longer something he consciously summoned as a technique; they were becoming part of his fundamental nature.
At times, when the space around him grew heavy with spiritual darkness, he did not analyze it. One thought arose naturally: Preserve the purity. The heaviness would gradually dissolve, and the room would return to quiet peace.
Echoes from the Secular Realm
Not every response was receptive. Some letters returned with blunt rejection: “I don't believe this,” or “Stop bothering me.” Hoa Long read them calmly and deleted them, harboring no resentment toward the senders.
Other responses revealed awakened hearts:
“I've always felt that something was wrong with this society, but I never had anyone to talk to about it.”
Another wrote:
“Thank you for speaking to me in an ordinary way without forcing anything on me.”
Hoa Long read the words quietly. People did not need beliefs forced upon them; they simply needed an opportunity to see the truth for themselves.
A Realm Without Borders
From then on, Hoa Long continued sending the letters day after day. There were no quotas or fixed numbers—some days he sent many, some days only one, and some days none at all. What mattered was not the volume of messages disappearing into cyberspace, but whether his own Dao-heart remained upright and pure.
He no longer measured his cultivation by visible results. He simply fulfilled the duty of a Dafa disciple: one letter, one righteous thought, one act of truth-clarification. Small in the eyes of the mortal world, yet carrying profound weight within the vast movement of the Fa.
Hoa Long looked at the summer rain outside. The path ahead remained long, but it was no longer without direction.
Canto 67 — Letters Sent in Silence
The summer rain and sunbeams interlace,
Quiet words move through the digital space.
Though doubt and darkness gather through the night,
A single truthful word may kindle light.
No speed demanded, and no outcomes sought,
He sends each letter without fear or thought.
Across the land where walls of silence rise,
The boundless Dao illuminates the skies.