Chapter 4 — Fake Perfect Family

Scared. “Tell me the truth.” She opened her mouth and said this. “What the video says, is that kidney yours?” I said nothing. Her voice rose a half tone: "Answer me!" “Go ask your parents.” "I asked! They said I was lying, said it was an anonymous donation from a matched gene bank, said my mental state had a problem that needed treatment." I leaned against the wall, staring at the crack in the ceiling. “So who do you believe?” The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds. The sound of her breathing was very heavy. I didn't wait for her to answer. I opened my mouth and said: "After I had the transplant surgery when I was fifteen years old, I was also hospitalized. What did they tell me I had? Appendicitis?" She did not speak up. "You've been studying medicine for so many years. The kidney incision is on the left waist, the appendix incision is on the right lower abdomen. Haven't you ever thought to ask a question?" The other end of the line heard a very soft sniffle. Then the phone was disconnected. I placed my phone next to my pillow, staring at the dark screen. Not indignant. Also not expected. Believe it or not, which side you take, it's all up to you. What I should have done has already been done. On Wednesday, the lawyer's letter arrived. Stuffed under the door was a kraft paper envelope, exactly the same position as the match notification letter from before. Open it, three pages. The main idea is only one sentence: Within forty-eight hours, you must publicly apologize and delete the video, otherwise you will be sued for defamation. I took a photo of the lawyer's letter. Then open the drawer, flip from the bottom layer to a USB. The things inside, I have accumulated for six years. I didn't go home after four years of college, not because I hated them so much that I didn't want to see them. But because every winter and summer vacation, I do one thing. Collect evidence. The portfolio I took in the library in eleventh grade is just the beginning. During winter break of my first year, I used my student ID card to go to the hospital records room to ask for a copy of my surgical records. Organ removal surgery on a minor, guardian's signature page, two signatures, each stroke clearly. My second year of college, I found a cloud backup account for my dad's old computer. The password is her birthday. I took a screenshot of that "monitoring the condition of usable organs" panel and saved it with the last editing time. In my third year, I had a complete medical examination report completed at the level of judicial examination, proving that my missing left kidney was due to surgical removal and not congenital. In my fourth year, I contacted three lawyers for free consultation, asking one thing clearly: taking organs for non-therapeutic purposes from minors, under what conditions would it constitute a crime? Everything is saved on USB. Backup two copies. One copy is in the motel room, one copy is in the bank safe. I didn't expose it because of a temporary impulse. I waited six years. Wait for the day they say "untrue". The reporter's second video was created over the course of two days. The headline was simple: “Open the entire chain of evidence: She did not lie.” I'm not in the video. There is only evidence. Close-up of surgical signature page, two signatures. Full scan of the embryonic record scoring page, including the last line of footnotes. Screenshot of the organ tracking table, showing file properties created on the third day after surgery when I was fifteen years old. The judicial appraisal report, on black and white paper, clearly states: "The left kidney was removed by surgery." At the end of the video is a recording. It was the voice message my dad sent me that day. His voice in the recording trembled: "Delete the video. Immediately. Immediately. Do you know what you are destroying?" Two hours after the video was posted, the comments section below announced that the parents' lawyer had failed. Four hours later, their academic cooperation unit issued a statement: suspending the entire cooperation project, waiting to clarify the truth. Six hours later, the genetic company's official website took down Dad's photo and advisor introduction. That evening, a lawyer posted a long analysis on the social networking platform: "Based on the existing chain of evidence, if true, the two guardians are suspected of carrying out this crime."

The act of removing unnecessary organs from a minor can constitute the crime of intentionally causing injury. The starting sentence is three years.” Ninety thousand shares. I sat in the motel room, watching the numbers on the phone screen jump up. Don't feel happy. There is no feeling of pleasure from revenge. I just feel like the rock that has been pressing on my chest for over ten years has loosened a bit. Just a little. After nine o'clock in the evening, someone knocked on the door. Not express delivery. Not the homeowner. I looked out through cat eyes. The hallway light was very dark, but I recognized that figure. Sister. She stood in front of the door, didn't call, didn't text. He clutched a kraft paper bag in his hand, his knuckles turning white. I opened the door. She stood in the hallway, her eye sockets were red, her makeup was smudged. Seeing my room, her eyes glanced at the iron bed, the folding table, the yellowed curtains, her lips pursed a bit, but she didn't say anything.