The autumn rain descends, the yellow leaves fly,
A rainbow awakens beneath the dark sky.
No worldly measure can chart the way,
The Fa lights the path from night into day.
The Road of Fated Encounters
Late autumn arrived with a biting wind. Yellow leaves scattered across weathered rooftops and narrow streets as fog lingered over the avenues at dawn.
Hoa Long continued moving through the city on his old bicycle. He had chosen to ride it for a simple reason: he wished to slow down. A motorcycle carried him too quickly from one point to another, whereas a bicycle allowed him to observe the souls along the road—to halt whenever someone caught his attention, sit beside a roadside tea stall, listen to the Fa, or converse with someone waiting for an awakening.
He no longer measured the worth of a day by secular metrics. There were other dimensions of value that human eyes could not see.
One afternoon, Hoa Long stopped at a modest roadside tea stall beneath an aging awning. The pavement was quiet, and the faint, serene audio of the Fa played softly from his phone.
He had barely settled when an elderly woman approached from the main road, carrying a worn cloth bag and looking exhausted from long travel. Her face was deeply etched by years of hardship. The moment her eyes fell upon Hoa Long, she froze. Her gaze widened in utter shock:
“Falun Dafa is good!”
The exclamation came so suddenly that Hoa Long looked up in surprise. Tears welling in her eyes, the old woman hurried toward him and clasped her hands together in deep reverence:
“Teacher...”
Hoa Long immediately gestured with his hands: “Please, do not call me that. In cultivation, there is only one Master. We are all fellow disciples. Just address me as a nephew.”
She nodded repeatedly, wiping her eyes: “Yes... nephew. I met you once before, at the end of 2020. You gave me one million dong.”
Hoa Long searched his memory as the recognition returned. At that time, she had traveled from Central Vietnam, her family impoverished, her husband bedridden, and her village devastated by severe floods and storms.
“Because of the rice and necessities you told me to buy with that money, my family survived,” her voice broke with emotion. “When the pandemic reached our district, the whole village was locked down for twenty-one days. We had no money and couldn't leave to ask for help. If not for that food... we would not have made it.”
She paused, taking a trembling breath: “And the lotus flower charm you gave me with the nine sacred words... my family cherished it. When my husband fell critically ill one night and we thought he would pass, I urged him to sincerely recite those nine words. The next morning, he miraculously woke up and asked for porridge.”
Hoa Long listened in serene silence, touched by her faith. He reached into his bag, placing several fresh lotus charms and truth-clarification cards into her hands:
“Take these home to your family. Times are severe, but return to your village, tend to your fields, work patiently, and preserve goodness in your heart. Heaven will guide you through the storm.”
He gave her an additional one hundred thousand dong for her journey home, accepted her tearful gratitude, and quietly pedaled away.
Along the Avenue
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Hoa Long continued his quiet journey. He spoke with street vendors, vegetable sellers, and market workers anxious about their livelihoods and frightened by rumors.
He spoke not as a preacher, but as a humble peer. Conversations starting with the price of rice or the changing weather naturally transitioned into deeper reflections on human existence—gain and loss, karmic cause and effect, and the ultimate protection found in Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance.
He tracked no records and sought no acclaim. He simply planted seeds of Truth in receptive hearts, trusting the Fa to nurture their destiny.
Domestic Friction
At home, however, a different form of pressure waited. His wife no longer engaged in heated arguments, but her quiet, repetitive complaints lingered:
“Why don't you seek additional consulting projects? We need more savings. Our child is growing, and expenses will only multiply.”
To her, these were sensible, ordinary concerns about housing, education, and secular security. She had not studied the Fa deeply enough to perceive the reality beyond human timeline. To her, the future was measured in ordinary decades.
Hoa Long understood that the peace beneath their roof was not an ordinary guarantee, but a sacred grace granted for cultivation. He tried to explain gentle truths, but the softer he spoke, the more her mundane worries returned. Eventually, he could only offer silence, stepping outside to pedal into the autumn evening.
The Dream of the Examination
As the year drew to a close, an unseen weight pressed heavily against his spirit, making even the sending forth of Righteous Thoughts unusually demanding.
Then came the dream.
Hoa Long found himself standing before a grand hall, preparing for the most critical examination of his life. His mind was clear, his resolve firm, and his preparation complete. Yet as he stepped toward the entrance, the proctors suddenly announced:
“The examination has been postponed.”
Confusion swept over him. Before he could process the words, the sky ruptured. Torrential rain poured down in relentless sheets, submerging the world in a blinding white storm.
Suddenly, a brilliant light tore through the dark clouds. A magnificent seven-colored rainbow stretched across the heavens with divine clarity. Hoa Long stepped directly beneath its arc. The instant he entered its boundary, the storm could no longer touch him. The rain roared violently beyond the perimeter, but inside the rainbow's aura, there reigned absolute, sacred stillness.
He awoke before dawn, deeply stirred. The following night, the exact same dream returned—the exam, the postponement, the torrential storm, the rainbow, and the inviolable sanctuary within.
The Scripture That Shook the Three Realms
The next day, Hoa Long opened the Minghui website and found a newly published scripture from Master titled Stay Clearheaded.
He read attentively, his spirit growing exceptionally still. Then, a single passage resonated through his entire soul:
The Fa-Rectification of the cosmic bodies had concluded; the transition toward the Fa-Rectification of the human world had officially begun.
Hoa Long stared at the screen, his breath catching. The two consecutive dreams instantly aligned like a sacred tapestry.
The examination had not been canceled—it had been postponed. The storm had not vanished—he had been granted sanctuary within the Fa to complete his solemn vows.
Across the globe, the scripture fell like a mighty bell in the night. Practitioners everywhere were deeply shaken. Some wept over lost time and past shortcomings; others felt an overwhelming urgency to rectify their every thought and follow Master into the next phase. The divine announcement reverberated far beyond the physical realm, echoing through the Three Realms and unreckoned dimensions.
The Rainbow at Year's End
Hoa Long sat silently before his desk. The words of the scripture remained on the screen, illuminating the path forward.
He understood now why the dream had repeated. The rainbow did not promise an absence of storms; it revealed the divine protection granted to those who remained steadfast in the Fa. The postponement was not an indulgence, but a sacred extension of time to salvage remaining souls.
He thought of the old woman from Central Vietnam, the gold shop clerks, the vendors, and the anxious strangers along the avenues. He had never needed to track metrics. His sole duty was to walk his trajectory with absolute purity.
Outside, the late autumn wind swept the final leaves across the pavement. Hoa Long stood up and walked toward his bicycle. The city around him remained bustling and unaware, yet within his heart, everything had been transformed.
He mounted his bicycle and pedaled into the evening light. Behind him, the year's last leaves fell. Ahead, beyond the darkening horizon, the invisible rainbow shone bright—guiding his footsteps into the dawn of a new cosmic spring.
Canto LXXV — The Rainbow at Year's End
The autumn rain descends, the yellow leaves fly,
A rainbow awakens beneath the dark sky.
No worldly measure can chart the way,
The Fa lights the path from night into day.
Through fated ties, countless hearts draw near,
Through storm and silence, the road becomes clear.
The mortal world waits beneath Heaven's wing,
As Fa-Rectification enters a new spring.