I'd spent nearly half a year planning our National Day trip, but one call from my surgeon wife brought it to a halt. “I'm sorry. There's an emergency surgery out of town, and they've specifically requested me as the lead surgeon.” But by the afternoon, a colleague from her doctors' group had secretly sent me a video. In it, she, a renowned medical expert, wasn't in an operating room at all. She was at a filthy pig farm, her hands covered in blood as she helped a sow give birth. The caption read: “Witnessing a miracle of life, regardless of species.” A colleague said, “It's Xiao Xiao's hometown. He interned with her...” I was so angry I laughed, and commented, “A perfect match for her expertise. She's got the technique down.” Almost instantly, she called me, furious. “What do you mean by that? Are you trying to get Xiao Xiao kicked out of the hospital?!” “Lu Xingchuan, delete that comment right now, or don't expect me to ever listen to you and lead another operation!” So disgusted I could have thrown up, I hung up on her. This National Day, it looked like I needed to perform surgery somewhere else. At the civil affairs bureau, I would remove the tumor that was our marriage.
