Good and Evil Chapter 135: Dong Gan'en Who Understands Gratitude

About a month after Zhou Hongwen had arrived here, one day, Zheng Lei and his group suddenly reappeared, ordering Zhou Hongwen to come out and go with them.

Zhou Hongwen was reluctant to comply because, during that month, he had already come to understand what it meant when Zheng Lei took people away. All those confined here were kidney donors, treated like prisoners, birds trapped in a cage, or meat on a chopping block—helpless and at the mercy of others. When he had first arrived, several men had been lying on the communal beds. Once their bodies had sufficiently recovered, they were taken away. During this period, new arrivals came in, and some were taken away by Zheng Lei’s group. These men, healthy when taken, returned looking half-dead and barely alive. This was because they had lost a kidney.

Despite his unwillingness, under Zheng Lei’s threats and the cold stares of others in the same room, Zhou Hongwen was eventually taken away.

His eyes were blindfolded as he left. He clearly remembered that after about twenty minutes of driving, the blindfold was removed. Zheng Lei told him it was time to repay his debt.

It was then Zhou realized they were heading toward the urban area of City Y.

Upon arrival in the city, Zheng Lei took Zhou Hongwen directly to a hospital for a medical examination. This was a legitimate hospital. After thorough tests confirmed Zhou’s health, Zheng Lei took him to a hotel, arranging for Zhou to share a room with Wang Yiming, while Zheng Lei and Zheng Maocai each had their own rooms.

The day after the checkup, after receiving Zhou’s medical report, Zheng Lei left the hotel, destination unknown.

Two days later, Zheng Lei returned accompanied by two men. One was Feng Liang, a man missing three fingers, and the other was a wealthy-looking man in his fifties, well-dressed and refined. This man entered Zhou’s room and scrutinized him up and down, left and right, with a gaze that made Zhou feel as though he were a naked object being inspected in a market. The man’s eyes were cold and calculating.

After his inspection, the man nodded at Feng Liang and Zheng Lei before leaving the room. They followed him out soon after.

Not long after, Zheng Lei returned holding a photocopy of an ID card and an organ donation agreement. He instructed Zhou to memorize the name on the ID, the recipient’s name on the donation form, and their relationship. After repeatedly confirming that Zhou had memorized these details, Zheng Lei left with the signed documents.

The next day, Zheng Lei woke Zhou, had him freshen up, and then led him to a hospital—not a reputable one like the First People's Hospital, but a private clinic. Upon entering, Zhou noticed the sanitary conditions were far inferior to a proper hospital, comparable to or worse than a small rural clinic.

Soon after, Zheng Lei had Zhou lie on a bed, where several masked doctors and nurses in white coats pushed him into an operating room. Inside, Zhou saw the wealthy man from the day before lying with an oxygen mask on, eyes closed, surrounded by medical staff seemingly waiting for something.

Realizing what was about to happen, Zhou tried to jump up and escape, but it was futile. He was pinned down, felt a sharp sting in his arm—as if bitten by ants—and then a cold sensation coursed through his body before he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, it was a full day later. His first sight was a stark white ceiling. Moving his head made him dizzy, and turning his body caused sharp, intense pain in his abdomen—pain beyond anything mild.

After a few moments, shaking hands reached for his abdomen and touched not fabric but layers of bandages. Tears streamed down his face.

At that moment, Zhou knew something was missing from his body. He clearly understood what had been taken: a kidney. The organ donation agreement Zheng Lei had shown him stated he was to donate forty percent of one kidney to a man he didn’t even know. The excruciating pain confirmed the grim reality.

In the days that followed, Zhou drifted in a haze between sleep and wakefulness, occasionally hearing voices. It was only after a week that he fully regained consciousness. While chatting quietly with a nurse, he learned a devastating truth.

He had actually lost sixty-five percent of his kidney, far more than the forty percent stated in the agreement. Losing so much meant one kidney was effectively useless, leaving him with only a single kidney to sustain him for the rest of his life. And he was only eighteen, just barely an adult.

After nearly two weeks in the hospital, Zheng Lei’s group took Zhou back to the room he now occupied. Upon return, he found no familiar faces; all the people who had shared the room before were gone—either moved elsewhere or taken away for kidney transplants. Zhou barely cared. Since waking, his world had been plunged into darkness. He didn’t know how to go on living.

Before Xu Lang’s arrival, Zhou was almost recovered—he couldn’t do heavy work yet but could at least walk around. But the room was small; even if he could walk, where else could he go?

Having listened to Zhou’s emotionally flat recounting, Xu Lang was silent for a long time. He understood Zhou’s feelings well—such calmness born of profound despair. The situation was irreversible. Since it had come to this, all one could do was accept their fate. Who could he blame? Wu Mengmeng? Or Wu Qiuyue? Xu Lang thought Zhou must hate Wu Qiuyue deeply, but besides her, he must also harbor hatred for Zheng Lei and his gang. Above all, Zhou likely blamed himself most.

After Zhou finished speaking, Xu Lang repeatedly tried to say something but finally only patted Zhou’s shoulder in consolation.

As Zhou spoke, Xu Lang quietly observed everyone in the room. Two men lying beside Zhou moaned softly, neither looking at Zhou or Xu Lang. Anyone who had endured a knife to the abdomen and lost an organ would be indifferent to others’ words.

Three men playing poker in the corner paid no attention to Xu Lang and Zhou’s conversation. They laughed loudly at times, which made Xu Lang both pity and pity them—knowing what awaited them.

The only person who caught Xu Lang’s attention was a boy around Zhou’s age. Since Xu Lang arrived, the boy had been discreetly watching him. Although seated far away, he had heard every word Zhou had spoken. Xu Lang was certain of this.

“Who is he?” Xu Lang asked Zhou, gesturing toward the boy.

Zhou, who had closed his eyes after speaking so long, opened them and looked in Xu Lang’s direction. “His name is Dong Gan’en, sixteen years old. He’s also a donor.”

“Was he tricked into coming here?” Xu Lang frowned.

Zhou shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. “No, he came willingly.”

Xu Lang’s interest waned instantly upon hearing this. He glanced coldly at Dong Gan’en but did not ask further.

At first, Xu Lang thought the boy’s parents had given him a good name, suggesting he was hardworking and grateful. But learning he had come voluntarily was disappointing. Yet, Zhou’s next words made Xu Lang view the boy differently.

Dong Gan’en noticed Xu Lang’s icy gaze when he asked Zhou about him and lowered his head in fear, no longer sneaking glances.

Perhaps seeing Xu Lang’s thoughts, Zhou explained despite no prompt, “Dong Gan’en is a child of hardship. His coming here was out of necessity.”

Xu Lang sneered, “What kind of necessity? Those who come willingly are all after money. Otherwise, why come here at all?”

Zhou was momentarily stunned, then smiled wryly and nodded. “You’re right. Since I arrived, over ten people have come and gone in this room. Most came willingly, all for money. Dong Gan’en is no different, but unlike the others…”

“What’s different about him?” Xu Lang asked, intrigued.

“He came to sell his kidney to raise money for his sister’s medical treatment. She has leukemia and needs a large sum. Their father died long ago, leaving only their illiterate mother, him, and his sister. She’s about to have surgery, but they still lack funds. So, he came here,” Zhou said with a soft smile, looking at Dong Gan’en.

Xu Lang was surprised and turned to the boy who had tried several times to speak since Xu Lang’s arrival. He felt guilty for his earlier harsh judgment.

“Come here,” Xu Lang beckoned.

Dong Gan’en, who had kept his head down, looked up briefly at Xu Lang’s smiling face, then shyly lowered his head again.

“Don’t be afraid. Come over,” Xu Lang urged again.

The boy stood hesitantly and shuffled over, sitting beside Xu Lang.

“Is your sister really sick? You’re not lying, are you?” Xu Lang asked.

“I’m not lying. Everything I said is true.” The boy raised his reddened face to meet Xu Lang’s eyes.

Xu Lang said nothing, simply stared back, their gazes locked—one big, one small, silently testing each other.

Having dealt with countless criminals, many masterful liars and actors, Xu Lang knew well that no matter how sincere or perfect a lie seemed, a lie remained a lie. Others might be fooled, but the eyes never lied—they are the windows to the soul.

In Dong Gan’en’s eyes, Xu Lang saw sincerity, stubbornness, and a trace of instinctive fear—but no guilt. He was certain the boy’s story was genuine. Admiring the young boy, nine years his junior, Xu Lang was reminded of his own sister and family.

His mother had been murdered, the killer shockingly his own father—the man he had admired. Despite public opinion branding his father a scoundrel or corrupt cop, Xu Lang unwaveringly believed his father innocent. Since Xu Lang was five, he had been raised by his sister, Xu Chan, and grandmother. Though he lost his parents young and never fully experienced parental love, he did not feel unhappy because Xu Chan was always by his side.

Xu Chan was only two years older. From the time Xu Yuan was imprisoned, Xu Chan had cared for Xu Lang. Xu Lang was five; Xu Chan seven.

Until Xu Lang turned fifteen, no matter what hardships or troubles he faced outside, Xu Chan would comfort him, telling him not to worry. As a child, Xu Lang had naively thought Xu Chan would always be there. One night, nestled in his elderly grandmother’s arms under a star-filled sky, he asked, “Sister, you’ll take care of me forever, right?”

Xu Chan smiled affectionately and nodded firmly, while their grandmother gently chided, “Your sister will marry one day. She can’t take care of you forever. Besides, you’re a boy, a man. When you grow up, you must take care of your sister, understand?”

Xu Lang was a little upset and looked at Xu Chan, asking, “Sister, is that true?”

Xu Chan smiled and nodded, pinching his nose playfully.

But things did not unfold as Xu Lang had hoped. At fifteen, his sister was murdered, dismembered brutally. Her body lay in the cold morgue of the Public Security Bureau. Ten years later, her killer remained at large.

Lost in memories, Xu Lang regarded the frail yet fiercely determined boy before him and felt a strange connection. In Dong Gan’en, he saw a reflection of Xu Chan. Compared to the boy, Xu Lang felt he had fallen short.

He would never allow Zheng Lei and his gang to take Dong Gan’en’s kidney. He refused to watch another truly grateful child be lost in this world, and he could not bear the thought of Dong Gan’en’s sister losing such a devoted brother.

Xu Lang had endured the agony of losing a loved one—a pain few could bear. He could not let that tragedy repeat.

He understood that even if Dong Gan’en sold his kidney and received a sum of money, it would be meager—only a few thousand yuan—insignificant for his sister’s surgery. If she knew her operation fund came from her brother selling a kidney, she might rather die on the hospital bed than witness such a sacrifice.

Remember the ultimate evil’s permanent address.