My Whole Life: The Self-Account of a Spirit Medium

In 1958, in Kaoshantun, Heilongjiang, I, Li Xiulian, was said to have “the bones of an immortal” when I was only six. I saw the Yellow Immortal when I had a fever and could hear the cries of stolen chickens, but the villagers pointed fingers at me and called me wicked.

At the public denunciation meeting, they dragged me onto the stage, but Brother Jianjun rushed up to protect me. I secretly helped people find their children and avert disasters, while Grandma Wang taught me, “Don’t be greedy for money, and don’t hurt anyone.” The day I established my altar, the incense ash formed the character “peace,” silencing every skeptic.

From a mud-brick house to a brick-and-tile home, from a “weird girl” everyone shunned to “Auntie Lian,” trusted by the whole village, I followed the spirits’ rules and protected the people of this black-soil land.

My grandson’s tiny handprint pressed onto the altar register, Yadan bowing as she received the cinnabar box, and the kernels Brother Jianjun shelled into my palm... I never grew rich in this life, but the Yellow Immortal remembers me and the villagers think of me. That’s enough!