Two years after I died, my wife wanted me to donate my corneas to her childhood sweetheart.
She came to the house with a voluntary donation consent form, only to find it empty.
With no other choice, my wife asked the property management office where I was.
But the staff told her:
"Mr. Sheng? He's been dead for ages."
"I heard he couldn't afford medicine after a donation surgery, then died of a systemic infection."
My wife refused to believe it, convinced this was just a lie I'd made up to avoid saving a life.
So she pointed at the staff and yelled:
"How much did Sheng Nanfeng pay you to help him lie to me?"
"I only asked him to donate a piece of his liver last time. It was a minor operation, and now he's pretending to be dead?"
"Tell him that if he doesn't show up within three days, his disabled father can forget about getting any more treatment!"
Then she slammed the door and left.
Watching her storm off, the staff sighed:
"But his father jumped into the river and killed himself a long time ago, unable to accept his son's death..."
