Standing at the Heart of the Snowstorm

On the operating table, the man I loved removed my kidney with his own hands.

He said, “Niannian, your sister needs this kidney, and you need to keep quiet.”

I watched in despair as he placed my organ in a cooler and walked away.

Three years later, I returned as the chairwoman of an international medical group.

My ex-husband knelt before me and begged to get back together. I smiled and handed him a medical report.

“I hear you need a liver transplant. What a coincidence. I happen to have a compatible one.”

He was overjoyed, unaware that what I had handed him

was the document I had prepared just for him: a “Voluntary Organ Donation Consent Form.”