It goes back to 1987, before Master began to preach openly and when She had few disciples living with Her . One day, due to external circumstances, Master suddenly asked us to pack and prepare to leave the Hsintien Center in suburban Taipei immediately. We had been trained to be ready within ten minutes of receiving such an order; those who dawdled were left behind. Master's training is even more effective than military training, for even the older monastic disciples managed to keep pace with the rest of the group.

At the time, all we had was a small truck. Master sat beside the driver, while all the monastic disciples squeezed into the rear compartment, together with our luggage. Under these difficult circumstances, we set out somewhat aimlessly, without a destination in mind. As we drove through the rural suburbs of Taichung, we passed by a deserted villa, and Master suddenly told us to alight and check it out.

It was a mountain villa, left half-built because of a dispute over property rights. Tall, wild grass grew everywhere, and there was no water or electricity. The villa was uninhabited, and the place looked desolate. As we explored the premises, we ran into a man who was amazed to find a group of monastic people wandering in the remote countryside. We discovered that he was an adherent of I-kuan Tao (a spiritual sect in Formosa) and a vegetarian. When he learned that we had no place to stay, he earnestly invited us to stay at his home temporarily.

He was a caretaker and lived in a house provided for the caretakers of the property, which had water and electricity. The caretaker had to attend to business elsewhere and invited us to stay for a week. We moved into the villa, not without paying him, of course. Master insisted on giving him rent money.

Beautiful as the term "mountain villa" may sound, the place was practically unfurnished and teeming with mosquitoes, especially since it was summertime. Squadrons of the insects zoomed in on us in an encounter that was beyond anything I had ever experienced. The house had two stories. The men slept on the ground floor, while Master lived in the only room upstairs and the women occupied the small living room adjacent to Her room. Master's room had no door, so, if we were attacked by mosquitoes, there was no way that She could be spared.

To protect ourselves from the hungry mosquitoes, we wrapped ourselves completely with our sleeping bags. The summer heat was intolerable, but it would have been worse to let the mosquitoes feast on us the whole night long. Even more irritating was their dull buzzing sound, which reminded us of bomber planes. Master observed our strange behavior and came out of Her room to ask why we were tightly wrapped like mummies in such hot weather. When we explained the reason, She exclaimed with amazement that She didn't detect any mosquitoes in Her room. I rushed into Her room to verify Her words. Really, there was no sign of a single mosquito. It was inconceivable! The mosquitoes only bit us, but they showed great respect for Master and did not dare to touch Her. Later, I realized that a sage who has attained great enlightenment has no karma of Her own and is above attack by mosquitoes. Only when She has taken upon Herself the karma of sentient beings does the odor of the karma attract mosquitoes to attack Her.

That night, we slept like "butterflies in cocoons" amidst the threatening buzz of the mosquito bombers. But strangely, when we fell deeply into slumber, the annoying noise seemed to fade away. The next morning, I told Master that the mosquitoes seemed to have disappeared and I admired Her miraculous power. Master laughed and pointed at several transparent mugs which, She said, were Her miraculous power. The truth was, Master could not bear to see Her miserable disciples being devoured by the mosquitoes, so She had gotten up in the night to catch the mosquitoes with these mugs and then set them free outside the house. She sent away almost two hundred mosquitoes; no wonder we could later sleep in peace.

A few days afterward, we left the Taichung mountain villa and ventured into the unknown mountains nearby. Our small truck bounced and danced on the rough road, which was blocked in some places by tree branches so thick and dense that we thought it was the end of the road. However, Master instructed the monastic disciple at the wheel to drive on. Indeed, after we had passed through the thick growth of trees, we saw a road ahead of us. These adventures were frightening enough for those who were not so daring and bold. But that was only the prelude; greater adventures were yet to come. In the remote mountain area, the roads were narrow and in poor condition. In many places, the road was barely wide enough for the truck, but we moved on, with hills on one side and an overhanging cliff on the other. We had close calls on several occasions! But of course, Master's blessings carried us safely through all the dangers along the way.

As we drove deeper into the mountains, we met a farmer. This second coincidence was just unbelievable; this farmer was also a vegetarian. He offered us a work shed on the mountain as our temporary abode. So we stayed in the shed which had no living facilities. The front part of the house, which had no roof, was where the female disciples slept. Master slept in the small storeroom in the rear portion. (Initially, She had wanted to sleep in the roofless portion, and gave in only under the firm insistence of Her disciples.)

Out of loving concern, Master repeatedly asked us whether we could sleep well, and our unanimous answer was "No problem!" Having gone through the torture of mosquito bombardment, it was a great blessing to sleep in a work shed that was serene, cool, and free of those insects. Furthermore, lying on the floor, looking at the countless sparkling stars in the sky and enjoying the fresh air, we felt as though we were sleeping in the palace of Mother Earth! We were very thankful.

The next morning, we got up to find that the floor around us was damp with dew because we had been sleeping directly under the sky. Incredibly, our sleeping bags and the floor around them were completely dry! This miracle was too obvious! We had heard that when Master Kuang-Chin (an abbot of a temple in Formosa who was famous for ascetic practices) meditated in the open at night, the dew never touched him or the area around him. But we knew very well that this was not the case with us; we were not that good at spiritual practice yet. I immediately reported the incident to Master, who smiled and confided that this was a natural miracle borne of Her concern that we might be dampened by dew while sleeping at night. She had not performed a ritual or chanted a mantra to keep off the dew. She had only been concerned about the health of Her disciples, and since it was truly necessary, the miracle had occurred naturally. All these incidents were miracles "done without doing" by Master.