Chapter 215: Artificial Organs (4)

Young-Joon was escorted by the Public Security Bureau and flew to Beijing. After landing at the airport, he got into a car and drove behind the Zijincheng[1], circling west. Soon, a huge lake appeared. The central and southern regions of this lake were collectively known as Zhongnanhai. This area was the heart of the Chinese Communist Party’s power. It was home to the State Council, the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party, and other major institutions. The essence of all of them was the Hall of Diligence. It was the office of Chen Shui, the leader of the Chinese Communist Party and the pinnacle of power in China.

While the White House in the United States, a comparable center of power, was largely open to the public, the Hall of Diligence was highly secretive. Not only was it off-limits to the public, even pictures weren’t allowed. Even the website of the Zhongnanhai said very little about the Hall of Diligence.

“Doctor Ryu has to go in alone from here,” the Chief said to Kim Chul-Kwon, the head of K-Cops who was with Young-Joon.

“Please wait here for a moment,” Young-Joon told Kim Chul-Kwon and followed the officers inside.

It was the moment Young-Joon stepped into the heart of power of the continent that was shrouded in a veil of secrecy.

“Are you Doctor Ryu Young-Joon?”

After passing through the luxurious gates into the waiting room, a middle-aged man who had been waiting for him stood up.

“My name is Peng Kui, the chief of staff. Thank you for coming. Please follow me.”

Peng Kui bowed respectfully and walked in front of Young-Joon, leading the way.

“This is your first time in the Hall of Diligence, right? Have you ever been in the White House?” he asked.

“A few times,” Young-Joon replied.

“We take security of the Hall of Diligence very seriously, so we rarely open it to the public unless they are our own people. We are more careful if they are close with the United States. There’s also only a small space allowed for foreign state guests who are invited into the Zijincheng,” Peng Kui said. “Ever since President Chen Shui came to power, there have only been a few foreigners who have entered this hallway from the Hall of Diligence, and one of them is you, Doctor Ryu.”

Keng Kui stepped outside at the end of the hallway. He walked around the small pond and entered the side door of the palace.

“This is the medical room inside the palace. It is equipped with excellent medical staff and facilities for surgery and treatment in the event of an emergency.:

Peng Kui walked down the hall again, then stopped in front of the lavish door at the far end of the hall.

“That’s why the President’s hospital room is located here as well.”

Click.

Peng Kui opened the door. Young-Joon, who stepped inside, was a little nervous. A dozen guards, who looked like they could stop a bullet with their bare hands, stared at Young-Joon with a piercing gaze.

At the center of the room was a giant hospital bed. Two attending physicians, both of whom looked like they had been through all kinds of hardship, and some nurses stood beside the bed. On the bed, a man who looked to be in his early sixties was leaning back against the cushions with a frozen face.

“Welcome, Doctor Ryu.”

One of the physicians approached Young-Joon and shook his hand.

“I’m Fen Mao, the attending physician of the Hall of Diligence .”

“I’m Ryu Young-Joon from A-GenBio. Nice to meet you.”

Young-Joon shook his hand.

“As you know, I’m not a doctor, and I cannot examine the patient. The professors here are probably much better than me at diagnosing and prescribing medicine based on the patient’s symptoms,” Young-Joon said. “Nevertheless, I’m sure there’s a reason you brought me here. What is it?”

“

Sigh

...”

The attendings let out a deep sigh.

“Doctor Ryu, everything you are seeing and hearing now are state secrets. We have brought you here because we trust you. You must not speak of this out of this room.”

“Yes,” Young-Joon replied.

“If we hear any strange rumors, we will assume they came from you.”

“Enough,” Chen Shui said, his pronunciation slightly slurred. “How can we scare him when we brought him here? That’s enough.”

Chen Shui raised his right arm and gestured at Young-Joon.

“It’s a little difficult for me to move right now, so could you come closer?”

“...”

When Young-Joon approached him, he let out a small sigh.

“I apologize for the impertinence of my staff. It doesn’t matter if you talk about this.”

“Sir!” Peng Kui shouted. “The Chinese economy will suffer if word gets out that you have fallen sick. We must keep it hidden as long as we can.”

“Alright, alright.”

Chen Shui waved his hand in annoyance.

“Doctor Ryu, as you can see, I cannot move much because my muscles and nerves have become paralyzed. I can’t even speak properly because my facial muscles are also paralyzed.”

“...”

“It’s subacute necrotizing encephalomyelopathy,” said Fen Mao. “It took a long time to confirm this diagnosis because it usually only affects babies.”

Fen Mao picked up a medical chart from the table and held it out to Young-Joon.

“We’ve already translated it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Young-Joon took the chart and skimmed through it.

Fen Mao, who was watching him nervously, spoke up.

“Doctor Ryu, subacute necrotizing encephalomyelitis does not have a cure yet. There is nothing more that modern medicine can do, but Doctor Ryu, you have conquered incurable diseases many times,” he said in a desperate voice. “Perhaps... there is something you can do?”

“There is,” Young-Joon said.

“There is?”

“You do?”

Fen Mao, Peng Kui, and Chen Shui all looked surprised. They had brought Young-Joon here with a glimmer of hope, but they honestly didn’t think it would be possible. No matter how good he was, what could he do about an unusual case like this? Even Fen Mao, Chen Shui’s attending physician, didn’t know much about the disease, because it was a rare genetic disease that usually only affected newborn babies. They were trying to find the answer to this peculiar case where the disease suddenly appeared in an adult in their sixties, but it seemed unlikely, even for Young-Joon.

However, Young-Joon was one step ahead of them.

“Actually, I already have the cure.”

Young-Joon took out a small, brown vial out of his bag.

“...”

For a moment, Peng Kui wondered if Young-Joon had been hired by the CIA to poison the President; that was how abnormal the situation was.

“H-How did you know to prepare the treatment?” Fen Mao asked.

“We discovered a virus at the hideout of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, the organization that attacked the last GSC International Conference,” Young-Joon replied.

“A virus?” Fen Mao asked, frowning.

“I was asked to determine what it was. It was a lentivirus, and the DNA in it contained genes coding for a nuclease. Once inside the host’s cell and expressed, it travels to the mitochondria and mutates the mitochondrial gene MTATP6, changing the eight thousand nine hundred ninety-ninth theorenine to a glycine or cysteine.”

“...”

Only Fen Mao could barely understand his explanation; the others were simply stunned.

“So... Wait, you’re saying that a virus is in the President’s body right now?”

“That mutation is the pathogen underlying the subacute necrotizing encephalomyelitis,” Young-Joon said. “However, being infected with that virus doesn’t cause the disease in the adult body because cell division is not happening vigorously. When cell division is occurring rapidly, the mitochondrial mutation produces a large amount of lactic acid that becomes concentrated in the cerebrospinal fluid. This induces gangrenous disorders in the basal ganglia, thalamus, brainstem, dentate nucleus, and the optic nerves.”

“...”

“When the symptoms begin, the patient will first feel nauseous, followed by rapid paralysis of muscles and nerves, loss of vision, impairments in breathing or heart function, eventually resulting in death.”

Young-Joon stared directly at Chen Shui.

“Mr. President,” he said. “You received an organ transplant in Xinjiang Uygur, right?”

“...”

Chen Shui gulped.

The attendings and Peng Kui just glanced at each other, not knowing what to do.

“Yes, I did,” Chen Shui said. “I received a heart transplant.”

“I’ve heard that there were thirty thousand organ transplant surgeries in Xinjiang Uygur in the last three years, and I’ve also heard that there is a fairly large number of Muslim Ugyurs imprisoned there.

Nature

is investigating that with the suspicion that most of those organ transplants were unauthorized harvestings from prisoners of conscience,” Young-Joon said. “How much of this is true?”

“...”

Silence filled the room once again.

“Um... Doctor Ryu, I don’t know where you heard something like that from, but...”

The moment that Peng Kui jumped in, trying to break the awkward silence before it became even longer...

“Most of it is true,” Chen Shui said, interrupting Peng Kui.

“S-Sir...”

Peng Kui stared at Chen Shui, surprised.

“It’s okay. Doctor Ryu will find out eventually. I’m not the only one who did this.”

Young-Joon clenched his jaw in anger.

“How many patients were there?”

“I don’t know, but there are quite a few, especially among the higher-ups.”

“You reap what you sow,” Young-Joon said.

“What?”

Peng Kui frowned and glared at him.

“Am I wrong? The terrorists from the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine sent the virus to the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region and infected the Ugyur people there. You got subacute necrotizing encephalomyelitis from getting that organ transplanted into you, right?”

“Doctor Ryu!”

“Hahaha.”

Peng Kui was about to say something when suddenly Chen Shui laughed quietly.

“You really are brilliant. It wouldn’t be easy for even the President of the United States to talk about something I don’t like so openly.”

“...”

“But Doctor Ryu, we didn’t harvest the organs of prisoners of conscience without consent. They were all people who had committed great crimes, and we got consent for organ harvesting from the prisoners. We are not that evil.”

“What great crimes do citizens imprisoned for religious reasons commit?”

“The conflict in that area is more nasty and complicated than you think. The Uygur people want independence, and there is no politician in the world who would allow themselves to lose their territory and people. I am President Mao Zedong’s legitimate successor, and I have a duty to maintain and lead a united China,” Chen Shui said. “And of course, some of them have been sentenced to death, Doctor Ryu. It was a riot, bordering on a civil war, and many people were killed or injured during the suppression. But the entire process was legal, even the organ donation.”

“A Uygur citizen who rebelled for independence in Xinjiang Uygur and ended up being executed donated his heart to the President of China? Do you think that makes sense?”

“Again, it was legal.”

“...”

What Chen Shui was saying had a strange nuance to it. There was a good chance that they made a deal with the prisoner, such as releasing their families or paying them, instead of them donating their organs out of pure humanitarianism. Any kind of external pressure was against medical ethics, but Young-Joon didn’t know what the law was in China. It could have actually been legal here due to some clever wordplay.

“Anyway, thank you for delivering the cure,” said Chen Shui, pointing at the brown bottle Young-Joon had set down. “You can go now. My chief of staff will reward you generously.”

It was over now. Peng Kui came over to escort Young-Joon out, but at that moment. Young-Joon uttered something completely unexpected.

“You won’t be cured with this.”

“What are you talking about?” Fen Mao asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“This treatment is for subacute necrotizing encephalomyelitis in infants. It racks down and destroys the virus-infected mitochondria and removes the lactic acid from the cerebrospinal fluid.”

“Isn’t that it?” Chen Shui asked.

At the same time, Fen Mao, who was standing next to him, looked concerned.

“Not in your case, Mr. President,” Young-Joon said. “If I destroy the virus-infected mitochondria, the cells at the heart junction will become necrotic, triggering an immune response near the heart, and the heart will lose its function.”

“...”

“This treatment only buys you three months.”

“No... Is there any other way?” Fen Mao asked.

“There is. But there’s a condition,” Young-Joon said.

1. the Forbidden City in China ☜