I'm Shen Moyu, twenty-eight years old, with stage-three hemorrhoids. The day I caught my ex cheating, I found a moving company, packed up, and turned off my phone, all in one go. My best friend said I ended the relationship more decisively than getting hemorrhoid surgery.
Then the hemorrhoids flared up. The registration fee was thirty yuan; my dignity was free. I pushed open the door, and the attending physician looked up.
Lu Zhi, the ex I dumped six years ago.
I hadn't even taken off my pants, and I already wanted to move to another planet. As I bent over the examination table, my phone rang: Fang Huai. Lu Zhi glanced at the screen and put on his gloves. When he pressed down, I gripped the examination table in pain. My phone kept ringing. He didn't stop, and I didn't answer.
The examination was over. He took off his gloves, wrote a prescription, and called the next patient.
I walked out of the examination room holding my lower back. I hadn't replied to Fang Huai's WeChat message. That evening, he sent another: Still mad? I didn't reply.
Then Lu Zhi messaged me too. I stared at it, more nervous than I'd been bent over the examination table.
