I, twenty-five years old, was assigned to the andrology department on the first day after graduating from medical university.
From then on, what I saw every day were men at their most vulnerable: the accountant who dared not read the report, the civil servant who was overwhelmed by his mother, and the patient whose wife was waiting in the corridor after a craniotomy. The moment they took off their pants, I took off all my fantasies about men.
At the same time, the blind dates arranged by the mother collapsed one after another. Returned elites despised my career as "undignified". The rich second generation brought a resume to talk about "resource integration." The civil servant was held by his collar for thirty years by his mother.
One hundred blind dates, one hundred men. I've seen their bodies in the clinic and their disguises at the dinner table. Later I understood that those disguises that cannot be taken off are more difficult to treat than the pants that can be taken off.
This is the story of a female doctor who sees through the truth of love in the andrology clinic. It turns out that it's not just the body that deserves to be healed the most.
