Out of Control

Chapter 4

"I don't understand what you mean. People die, that's all. What else is there to say?" She became a little impatient and turned to fiddle with the items on the shelf.

Seeing that she couldn't get any more information out of her, Wu Bingbing quickly said, "I still want to go to her house and see if the auntie can tell me who else lives in her family?"

"Dongmei's mother died young; her father is a stubborn old man, usually quiet and unyielding, but when he does speak, he can talk you into a brick wall. There's also an old lady in her family, over 80 years old, who has gone blind from crying... Go straight ahead from here, the second house in the northwest of the village, there's a dead elm tree in front of the door, that's her house. Go on, be careful of the dogs."

As soon as Wu Bingbing entered the courtyard, she felt a chill in the air. The house was dimly lit, like a deep, dark tunnel. She saw the old woman asleep in bed, and her father dozing against the doorframe. There was no sound; even the dog and chickens in the yard lay motionless. When someone came in, her father raised his head, glanced at her indifferently, and then put his head back on his knees.

Wu Bingbing said, "Grandpa, my surname is Wu, and I've come to see you."

The old man remained unmoved. She thought he must be too heartbroken.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything your daughter has done for me."

The old man still didn't react. Wu Bingbing wondered if he didn't want to talk about her daughter. Perhaps he felt it was all in the past, and gratitude was unnecessary.

Wu Bingbing finally asked again, "I want to see Sister Dongmei. Where is she buried?"

At this moment, the old man stood up, picked up a straw hat from the side, and walked outside. When he was almost out of the yard, he turned back to look at her, his eyes filled with pain and sorrow—she quickly followed him.

At the edge of a large field north of the village, there was a small grave mound. The fresh soil on the grave was not yet completely dry, and a few pieces of paper money and paper offerings were scattered around it.

Wu Bingbing stood in front of the grave and cried. The old man squatted to one side, not crying, as if he had been waiting for her.

Wu Bingbing sobbed, "Thank you, Dongmei, and thank you, Dad, and Grandma. Thank you for your immense kindness. Without your whole family, I wouldn't be who I am today... Dongmei, I will always remember you. You didn't actually die. You gave me your heart, and that's how I survived. You live on too; you live on in my body. My life is your life..."

The old man suddenly stood in front of her, stared at her, and asked, "Huh? What are you saying?"

She recoiled in fright: "Did I say something wrong? Dongmei gave me her heart..."

"Pah! Pah!" the old man pointed at her angrily. "Nonsense! What nonsense are you spouting!"

She hurriedly tried to explain to the old man, but the more she explained, the angrier he became. His eyes widened, his mouth agape, and he pointed at her, unleashing a torrent of abuse. He accused her of insulting him, of insulting his dead daughter. "What gave her a heart? It's all nonsense!" he raged, spitting all over her face. She retreated hastily, apologizing profusely. If she hadn't run fast enough, that thin, bony hand would have surely grabbed her by the neck.

She ran quite a distance, and when she looked back, the old man was still pounding his chest and cursing...

Sitting in the taxi, Wu Bingbing asked herself: Had I hurt this old man? But after thinking it over, she couldn't think of anything inappropriate. She hadn't said anything wrong! She had only thanked his daughter; wasn't she the one who saved her life? Why did he react this way?

"Wait, let me think. If his daughter donated her heart to me, then he should be able to accept my gratitude and wouldn't feel offended. Now, he's so disgusted, refusing to acknowledge it, and thinking I insulted and offended him, which means there was no such thing as his daughter giving me a heart." Wu Bingbing unconsciously used the syllogistic reasoning she had just learned last semester.

That makes sense. His daughter was injured in a car accident on September 24th, and I was notified to come to the hospital to see Dr. Meng on September 22nd. Even though I was anesthetized and put into a dormant state, allowing me to wait until the third day for surgery, how could Dr. Meng have foreseen a car accident on September 24th? How could he have prepared for surgery in advance, and specifically, to use her heart?

Therefore, when Dr. Meng anesthetized and put me into a state of suspended animation on September 22nd, it's impossible for him to have known that an organ donor would be available on the third day; otherwise, the donor was already in his control beforehand...

Wu Bingbing was immediately taken aback by her own deduction...

Before she knew it, the taxi had returned to the city center. Wu Bingbing didn't want to rush home. Her mind was in turmoil. She wanted to find a quiet place to sort things out. When they reached an intersection not far from her home, she asked the driver to stop the car and got out, walking into the nearby coffee shop.

She ordered a coffee with milk and unconsciously stirred it with a small spoon. Amidst the wafting aroma, she tried to sort out her chaotic thoughts, but still couldn't determine if Liu Dongmei was the person she was looking for.

She remained perplexed, wondering why they couldn't tell her who donated her heart.

Recalling Dr. Meng's resolute expression of keeping quiet, her father's evasive manner in the face of her questions, and her mother's flustered attempts to change the subject, she felt that some kind of secret was hidden. What was it? It seemed that only she herself was kept in the dark.

Just then, she heard increasingly loud banging beside her. Turning her head, she saw the taxi driver who had just dropped her off standing outside the large floor-to-ceiling window, waving anxiously at her.

As she curiously stepped out, the driver handed her a red women's handbag, saying it was something she had left behind, which he had just found in the car and immediately returned.

Wu Bingbing said, "This bag is not mine, and I did not lose it."

A maroon, heart-shaped handbag—the leather is excellent, the workmanship exquisite; it has a zipper in the middle, and two side compartments, each with a small pocket; the bag is bulging, its contents unknown. Each side of the bag has a pattern, one a bird, the other a dog's head, both simple line drawings. The bag's handles are even more unique, yellow, woven into feather shapes, like wings sprouting from the heart, or a golden arrow piercing its red core—beautiful enough to inspire contemplation and imagination.

After looking at it, Wu Bingbing said, "Really, Master, this isn't mine."

The driver said, "Those belong to your sister, no doubt. Take them back."

Wu Bingbing smiled wryly and said, "I don't have any sisters. You're talking nonsense!"

The driver said, "Isn't the girl you were riding with your sister?"

Wu Bingbing thought that this man was talking inexplicably, and he must have made a mistake. But the tall, thin man in front of her was indeed the driver who had dropped her off half an hour ago.

“What girl?” She shoved the bag at him. “Are you out of your mind?”

The driver refused to answer, but got angry, saying, "You really are... what can I say about you? You're so petty! Even if you sisters have a falling out, you should still take her lost bag back, right? How can you hold a grudge against an outsider? I could tell you two were arguing on the way there; you sat in the front, she sat in the back, and you didn't exchange a single word the whole way. I didn't expect you to be like this on the way back. Why are young people holding grudges!"

Wu Bingbing asked, "You said I'm in front, so who—is sitting in the back?"

The driver said, "Your sister—that girl! Why are you asking me? In the past, many of my female passengers would sit together in the back seat. It seemed like we were close, and it made it easier to talk on the road."

Unlike you two, I opened the back door, she squeezed in and waited for you, while you sat in the front with a sullen look on your face. Are you trying to spite her or something? Am I right? —"

Upon hearing this, Bingbing recalled that when she first took the taxi, the driver opened the back door first and stood by the door for a while... Could it be that a girl got in the car at that time? And sat behind her? She suddenly felt her scalp tighten and couldn't help but become nervous.

She asked in surprise, "You mean, that girl, that sister... was sitting in the back of the car?"

The driver said, "Where else would you sit if not in the back? As soon as you got in the car, I guessed you two were sisters. You look alike, you're dressed the same. But why don't you get along? You two aren't even from the same mother, are you? Even your clothes are strange, like reversed door gods. She's dressed in all white, and you're dressed in all black..."

As Wu Bingbing listened, she felt her hands and feet grow cold, and a shiver ran through her body. She never imagined that a girl would be following her, and she hadn't even seen her. She'd even gotten into the car she was in, silently watching her from behind, and she hadn't known. It was unbelievable; she felt a chill run down her spine.

She nervously hugged her arms and stammered, "You saw her...where did she get off the bus?"

"Didn't she get off the bus with you?" Then, he pointed to the gate of the residential compound in the distance, "I saw her walk towards that compound alone."

Wu Bingbing gasped, her heart clenching instantly—because her home was in that courtyard.

She threw her handbag on the ground. The driver also left impatiently. She lost all interest in her coffee and decided to pay and leave. The waiter opened the door for her, and as she walked out, she saw a white figure flash through the glass door, with long hair. A face almost touched hers, and she jerked back—it was clearly a woman, a woman whose face she hadn't seen clearly, brushing past her or passing by—but when she turned around and looked around, she saw no one. A sudden panic gripped her, and like a startled deer, she ran home as fast as she could, constantly looking back, afraid someone was following her…

She finally breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the main gate of the residential complex. A stern-faced security guard stood there. As she entered through a side door, she suddenly felt someone chasing her from behind, but when she turned around, there was no one there. She secretly breathed a sigh of relief and continued walking. But then she felt something lightly cling to her body—like a garment draped over her shoulders—and instantly, a chill ran down her spine, her hair standing on end. Looking around, the main gate was empty; there was no one there except for the indifferent security guard. Terrified, she turned and ran inside, her steps frantic as she rushed into the apartment building, frantically pounding on the elevator doors and bursting inside.

A gust of cold wind blew into the elevator, even ruffling her hair. She distinctly felt someone follow her into the elevator; she could hear the soft rustling of clothes and the sound of air moving as they walked, and she could feel the stalker standing behind her, tilting their head to look at her. What terrified her even more was that, extremely nervous, as she stepped into the elevator, her trembling fingers just reached for the floor button, before she could even touch it, the "12" floor control light up—clearly, someone had pressed it for her. Her heart pounded.

Jump up...

When she arrived at her apartment on the 12th floor, she looked like she had just crawled out of a well, her face and body covered in sweat. She turned and glared at the elevator with hatred until it closed and began its descent. She stood there, catching her breath, hesitant to open her apartment door…

Chapter Four

She thought that the donor's experiences, emotions, and memories were preserved in this heart and injected into her body through transplantation, which was why she could feel the heart's pain, resentment, and sorrow. She didn't know if other heart transplant recipients felt the same way.

In her spare time, Wu Bingbing would wonder if heart transplant recipients experienced psychological and emotional changes. For example, if a man's heart was transplanted into a woman, would she become more masculine, rugged, and assertive? If a woman's heart was transplanted into a man, would he become more sensitive, gentle, and tender? As for same-sex heart transplants, personality differences might lead to some reactions, but psychological and emotional connections should be mutual and harmonious… Furthermore, if a young person received a heart from an older person, would their emotions or lifestyle be influenced by that heart? And if an older person received a heart from a younger person, would they experience a renewed vitality and a renewed understanding and approach to life and relationships?…

These are all questions that Wu Bingbing explored through case analysis, drawing from her own personal experience. Some might say that speculating about psychological and emotional changes after a heart transplant seems to contradict medical science. As a recipient of someone else's heart, one's thinking still relies on one's own brain; how could one be influenced or controlled by someone else? The body is still one's own body; how could internal changes occur? But she doesn't see it that way. She believes that science itself is limited, referring to the processes of knowledge and proof that have already been and will be. Any scientific action and conclusion is temporary and finite. Just as humanity cannot fully comprehend the secrets of outer space, it also cannot fully unravel the mysteries of its own physiology.

In her theory, she believes that the brain is the primary thinking machine, governing and weaving thought processes, while the heart is the secondary thinking machine, the "terminal" connecting to the brain, forming a cohesive thought system that directs the entire nervous system. No one can definitively say that all human thought, or the resulting experiences, cognitions, and emotions, are stored in the brain without leaving a trace in the heart.

She firmly believes that after her heart transplant, she was psychologically and emotionally influenced by the foreign heart—the donor's experiences, emotions, and memories were preserved in that heart, and through the transplant, the stored information was injected into her body. Those haunting, unfamiliar dreams are evidence of this.

The nightmares continued to haunt her, and the resentful woman in white relentlessly pursued her in her dreams. During the chase and escape, she saw one dead body after another, all unfamiliar faces she had never seen before. Wu Bingbing often woke up in the middle of the night in terror, so she simply stayed awake, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, waiting for dawn…

Wu Bingbing wanted to understand whether other heart transplant recipients also had difficulty escaping the influence of their original heart, and thus frequently dreamed of reliving the past memories of that heart.

It was a nurse named Xiao Ye, introduced by a friend, who had a way to get close to Dr. Meng's colleagues in the department and find out about the heart transplant surgeries performed by the cardiothoracic surgery department over the years. She also found the hospital's follow-up treatment records for these patients on the computer of Dr. Meng's assistant, Dr. Qi—the tall, thin female doctor who had examined Bingbing—and also found their addresses and contact numbers.

The rehabilitation hospital has performed 13 heart transplant surgeries. Besides Wu Bingbing, of the other 12 patients, only 4 were from the city, while the other 8 came from provinces such as Hunan, Sichuan, and Guangxi. The patients varied in age, the youngest being 9 years old and the oldest 68. Only one patient died within the critical 3-month post-operative period; all others recovered safely, with zero relapses recorded in the records. Bingbing copied down the information of the four patients from the city.

Of the four patients in the city, three are women. The oldest among them is Wei Pan, 57 years old; Kang Qiujing is 24 years old, slightly older than Wu Bingbing; and Xu Miaomiao is only 9 years old.

Wei Pan was originally an employee of the municipal tobacco and alcohol company. She had been on sick leave for several years and lived at home with her son's family in the staff quarters of the district civil affairs bureau, where her son worked. Because Wei Pan lived relatively close to her, Wu Bingbing decided to visit her first to investigate and understand her situation.

In fact, from the copied surgical registration and treatment follow-up records, she had already learned about Wei Pan's general situation—born in 1945, married for 32 years, with a son and a daughter, and her husband had passed away from illness many years ago. Ten years ago, Wei Pan was diagnosed with ischemic cardiomyopathy, commonly known as coronary heart disease. Despite long-term medical treatment, her condition did not improve and worsened, eventually leading to a terminal stage where she opted for a heart transplant. The surgery was performed in April 1997. A 38-year-old rural woman with a brain tumor donated her heart before her death, and Wei Pan has lived a healthy life ever since.

In the residential compound of the district civil affairs bureau, there is a small flower bed where a group of elderly women exercise.

Some people were slowly massaging their legs on the flower bed steps, some were leading their children around the flower bed swinging their arms, and a few were huddled together chatting. After a while, they would clap their hands and laugh heartily. Some of them were laughing so hard they were bent over, repeatedly saying, "Mommy, Mommy, I'm dying of laughter!" It turned out that the one laughing the loudest was Aunt Wei Pan.

When the short, plump, ruddy-faced old woman stood before her, Wu Bingbing was stunned once again—she clearly remembered seeing a dead person in her dream yesterday, and that dead person was the face in front of her.

Wu Bingbing didn't know what to say: "Auntie, aren't you in good health?"

Aunt Wei Pan had a loud voice. Hearing what Bingbing meant by coming, and learning that Bingbing had also recently undergone surgery, she became much more talkative: "It wasn't this good before. Those years were unbearable; I suffered terribly. Coronary heart disease would flare up unexpectedly, and I was constantly experiencing chest tightness and shortness of breath—it was awful. Later, it got worse and worse; at night, I could only sleep lying flat, or sitting up. Even turning to my side made it hard to breathe, suffocating me. I thought I was going to die…who knew it could be cured? It must be because you accumulated good karma in your past life that such a kind person helped me like this. Girl, don't you think so?"

Bingbing nodded: "That person? ...Is the old lady still in contact?"

“What a kind person! How could I not keep in touch! I often tell the children that their mother's life was given to us by others, and we must not forget them. I often take a bus to the village, which is more than 100 miles from here, to visit her. She still has two children.”

"Does her child know about this too?"

"The child doesn't know; her husband didn't tell the child."

"Ma'am, did you see her child...? Was there anything?"

She wondered if the older woman would have any premonitions when she saw the woman's child, and whether her heart would react abnormally, but she couldn't say it directly and didn't know how to express it accurately.

The old woman sighed and said, "That man is both father and mother to his children, and the two children are very pitiful."

After a while, Bingbing asked again, "Has Auntie been taking medication all these years?"

The woman said, “I started taking it. Anti-allergy medication, vitamins, calcium, magnesium tablets, and things like that. Sometimes I would forget to take it when I was busy, and that was it, I never got sick. Later I stopped taking it. You see, it's been four or five years, and I'm perfectly healthy, I haven't had a single problem. Now I can eat and sleep well.”

"You can eat and sleep well," Bingbing repeated to herself, "You sleep well? Don't you dream?"

"It's great, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow," the woman said. "I sleep soundly until dawn every day, I don't drink much water at night, and I don't even wake up if I don't need to pee. I sleep very soundly, I can't even hear thunder."

"Don't you dream at night?"

"I slept well and didn't have any dreams."

"Have you not dreamed at all these past few years?"

"I don't think I've ever had a dream, really not."

"Before the surgery, did you still dream?"

"I had a lot of dreams back then. I couldn't sleep at all, and my dreams kept coming."

"If you don't dream, if you stop dreaming, do you feel like something's missing?"

"I have everything I need—what's the use of dreaming? I've finally had a few years of sound sleep, unlike before, oh dear, not eating well, not sleeping well, you have no idea how miserable that was—"

Bingbing quickly tried to dissuade her, "Don't say anymore, Auntie, things are better now!"

Afterwards, Aunt Wei asked about Bingbing's situation, and Bingbing briefly explained about having recurring dreams.

The older woman gripped her hand tightly again and said, "Don't worry, girl, you'll be alright."

Bingbing felt very warm and said, "Thank you, Auntie. I will come to see you often."

Bingbing left her home phone number and her mobile phone number with Aunt Wei Pan, saying she hoped Aunt Wei Pan would call her often. Aunt Wei Pan escorted Bingbing all the way to the gate of the residential compound.

Bingbing took a dozen steps and turned back, only to catch a glimpse of a white figure flashing into the courtyard. There was no one at the gate. She quickly ran back—and saw that Aunt Wei Pan had already joined the group exercising. She looked around again, but didn't see anyone in white. She smiled wryly and left, relieved.

Meeting Wei Pan did nothing to resolve Wu Bingbing's doubts; in fact, it deepened them—she had never met Aunt Wei Pan, so why had she seen her in her dream? And even saw her dead? What happened? Was it simply because they had both undergone heart transplants? But what necessary connection did she have with her?

Besides, Aunt Wei Pan didn't have any adverse reactions. She didn't have any nightmares, let alone seeing ghosts in broad daylight. Unlike her, who had so many nightmares and was being chased by the ghost that gave her her heart.

What exactly happened? Wu Bingbing was increasingly confused. But she still decided to continue the investigation.

She took out the transcripts of the other three heart transplant recipients and pondered who to contact next.