My name is Cheng Muyun, the same as that young marshal who was known as a serial killer in history.
Because Cheng Muyun is a figure who only appears in the modern history of high school humanities and is only mentioned briefly, I was spared from being bullied at school.
On the contrary, many people have praised its beautiful name.
But which parent would name their child after a negative character?
My parents are history professors.
Because they had studied modern history for most of their lives, they firmly believed that Cheng Muyun was not the murderer in history.
Everything he did was beneficial to our Party. They firmly believed that Cheng Muyun was a good person, and they also asked me to participate in the research. My greatest wish in life is to exonerate Cheng Muyun.
However, I'm not interested in this at all. Just having this name is enough for me. And you want me to choose humanities and go into the history department? No way.
But bearing this name, my fate seems to be moving in some inexplicable direction.
During my third month of hospital internship, a girl who was in a vegetative state was transferred out of the ICU. The cause of her illness was a febrile seizure.
It was originally a minor matter, but who knew she would fall into a coma? The doctors in the hospital were all at a loss. Seeing that her vital signs had stabilized, they transferred her out of the ICU.
However, she is still in arrears.
I later learned that her name was Xu Zhuohua, and she was a sophomore in the history department at the university where my parents taught.
I tried asking my dad, and he actually knew her. He even looked at me with a smile and said she must be very interested in me.
I thought my dad was going crazy with pressure to get married, so I really didn't want to talk to him.
I majored in neurology, and every day when I accompanied my supervisor on rounds, he would look through her case several times over and then shake his head helplessly. If she weren't a classic case of seizures, the hospital would probably have kicked her out long ago.
Strangely, Xu Zhuohua sometimes talks in her sleep. When I was on duty, I once tracked her neurological responses, and she seemed to be in a dream.
This dream was not a pleasant one. Her nervous system reacted, showing that she was very tense and anxious, and sometimes even showed signs of helplessness and pain.
Her neural responses were almost exactly the same as those in the textbook. Every time I saw her neural circuit diagram, I wanted to verify the theories in the textbook, and I could always find the original diagram.
This feeling of seeking validation is wonderful and has an endless attraction for me.
Without realizing it, I became aware that my mind was filled with her sleeping face.
Peaceful, tense, happy, anxious.
Her nervous system reactions have become a reflection of my daily mood.
I felt that she wasn't dreaming, but experiencing a life full of ups and downs. Her subtle emotions could be captured by the instrument, and it felt like a completely real reaction.
I was fascinated by it, and whenever I had free time, I would go to her ward to study her emotions.
The bad news is that my research has made almost no progress.
The good news is that her family in Shanghai sent her the money for her medical expenses, so I no longer have to worry about her being kicked out of the hospital one day.
However, frustratingly, she still has no family to take care of her.
I was worried that lying down for too long would cause bedsores, so I paid out of my own pocket to hire a female caregiver to take care of her.
Damn it, the caregiver's monthly fee is nine thousand, while my monthly allowance is only a few hundred yuan. I have no choice but to rely on my parents.
Fortunately, my parents also felt sorry for Xu Zhuohua and were willing to help her financially, but on the condition that the money I borrow now has an interest rate of 15%, which is even worse than loan sharks.
She remained in a coma for five months.
Lately, I've sensed that her story seems to be coming to an end.
Her emotions were very stable, and her nerves were not very sensitive, like an old woman in her twilight years, as quiet as a piece of rotten wood floating on the Huangpu River.
I don't know why, but I have a feeling that she's about to wake up.
Her mentor said it was a sign of neurodegeneration due to prolonged lack of external stimulation.
However, the instruments clearly showed that her vital signs were stable and all her organs were active. She was a vibrant life lying in bed, so how could there be any talk of degeneration?
I don't believe it. I firmly believe that she is on an adventure, and she will wake up when the adventure is over.
As a staunch materialist, I shouldn't think this way, but why must the wonder of life be explained by science?
I know that Xu Zhuohua is an exception.
The night she woke up, I lay by her bedside and had a dream.
In my dream, I was a majestic general, commanding hundreds of thousands of people in battle. Amidst the hail of bullets and the flying blood and flesh, everything felt so real, as if it were happening right there.
My mind is filled with the image of a woman in a cheongsam. Her eyes are beautiful and warm, and her smile is lovely.
I held her hand and walked from the streets of old Shanghai to the smoke-filled battlefield, then to Tiananmen Square to witness the awakening of the Eastern lion, and finally stopped on a hospital bed, watching her gradually stop breathing.
I could clearly feel my heart bleeding, my soul weeping, and my body struggling.
I buried her with my own hands, and finally, holding her favorite clothes, I lay down on the tatami mat and fell asleep peacefully.
This dream, both real and painful, is vivid in my mind. In the dream, I closed my eyes, but in the real world, I opened them.
Then, I saw those beautiful, gentle eyes on the hospital bed.
She woke up and was looking at me with those familiar eyes.
The moment our eyes met, the dream I had just had seemed to become clear in an instant.
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