When we were kids, my arch-nemesis always mocked me: "With grades like yours, you'll grow up to be a septic tank cleaner." I didn't believe in curses until I became a proctologist. And he? The untouchable, icy movie star. Clutching his butt, he registered for my clinic. I slowly pulled on my gloves: "Pants down, bend over." He looked like he wanted to die of shame: "Can you perform the surgery..." I smiled: "Sure. Call me Daddy first." 1 I'm Dr. Layla Liang. The youngest proctologist in the hospital. Three years in the game, I've seen countless anuses and every hemorrhoid under the sun. 4 PM. The quietest time at the clinic. I pressed the button for the last patient: [Patient No. 250, Julian Gu, please proceed to Exam Room 3.] My pen froze. A punchable face instantly popped into my mind. No way... Isn't that guy currently filming some "Most Handsome Ancient Costume Drama Ever," riding a majestic steed and acting cool? Could it be... karma? The clinic door creaked open a crack. A sneaky figure slipped in and immediately locked the door behind him. "Layla..." The visitor lowered his voice, taking off his sunglasses to reveal a pair of familiar peach-blossom eyes. Good lord. Mask, hat, sunglasses. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was here to rob the place. "Julian Gu?" I almost jumped out of my chair. "It really is you." "Shh! Quiet! Don't say my name!" He rushed over to cover my mouth. "There might be paparazzi outside." I pried his hand away and deliberately raised my voice: "Oh, so it's 'The Reddest Butt on Monkey Mountain'!" I called out his ridiculously flamboyant gaming ID directly. "Layla, shut up!" Shutting up was impossible. Back in the day, he always mocked my poor grades, saying I'd grow up to shovel sh*t. As a result, my college application got adjusted to medicine, and I was assigned to proctology. He laughed at me for ages. Now, he's in my hands. If I didn't roast him now, I'd be letting down our twenty years of rivalry! "Well, well, isn't this the icy, abstinent movie star? Abstaining all the way to the proctology department? That's wild!" Julian choked on his words. He hesitated for three seconds before whispering: "Um... I'm a little uncomfortable..." "Where?" I asked knowingly. He stammered: "Just... it hurts back there..." "Where is 'back there'? Waist? Buttocks? Or a little further down? Be precise, we doctors need accuracy." I spun my pen quickly, secretly delighted. Julian gritted his teeth, face flushing red: "My butthole hurts! Happy now?!" "Why didn't you just say so?" I typed away on the keyboard. "How long has it been hurting?" "Since last month, filming that period drama. Riding horses all the time..." I raised an eyebrow meaningfully, my eyes gleaming with gossip: "Riding horses or riding people? Don't lie to your doctor." Everyone knows Julian Gu has been scandal-free for seven years. He keeps his distance from female stars. The only name linked to his is the young actor he starred with in that BL drama. "Layla, do you have any medical ethics? I'm straight as a pole!" Ooh, he's mad. "Ethics? For others, yes. For you..." I stood up slowly. Opened the cabinet and took out a pair of disposable gloves: "Pants off. Lie on your side on the table. Knees to chest." 2 Julian froze. Under the baseball cap, his handsome face turned blood red. Who would have thought? The nemesis who always one-upped me... Now has to take off his pants and present his ass to me! Hahahaha!!! He struggled: "Do you have to look? Can't you just prescribe medicine? Money is no object..." "Dear, you can't take medicine blindly. We need a diagnosis." I put on the gloves, snapping them loudly. "Relax. In a doctor's eyes, all beings are equal. Anuses possess no rank. It's just tissue." He closed his eyes in resignation. Took a deep breath, and with the air of a martyr going to the gallows... Began to unbuckle his belt slowly and awkwardly. Finally, he slid down his grey boxer briefs. I glanced at his tight waist and hip line, maintained by years of fitness. Tsk. Nice body. Shame about the tiny appendage. He dawdled getting onto the bed, his voice fragile: "Can you... be gentle..." I almost forgot, this screen tough guy is actually a wimp when it comes to pain. As a kid, he'd hit a high C getting a vaccination. "Relax. I've seen thousands of chrysanthemums. My technique is professional." While comforting him, I urged him on: "Hurry up. Standard posture." He glared at me resentfully and lay flat. Tsk tsk... If his 80 million "wives" (fans) saw this submissive expression, they'd have a collective heart attack. Walking to the exam table, my gaze swept over the exposed area. I couldn't help shaking my head: "Tsk, Julian lives up to his name. The real-life 'Reddest Butt on Monkey Mountain'." "Layla, you..." Before he could finish. "OWWW!!!" A pig-slaughtering scream echoed through the clinic. "Layla, you're taking personal revenge!" I was speechless: "I haven't even gone in yet. What are you screaming for?" "Relax. I need to do a deep examination." He let out a despairing whimper, burying his face in his arms, leaving only a blood-red ear tip exposed. "Relax, how can I go in if you're like this?" Julian buried his face deeper, his muffled voice filled with immense shame: "I... I can't control it..." "Control it anyway! Deep breaths! Exhale, inhale." Like a ruthless repeater, I directed his breathing. While secretly applying force with my hand. "Oww oww oww! It hurts!" So troublesome. More work than ten constipated grandpas combined. Just as my finger finally struggled to begin exploring the internal situation... Suddenly. A certain indescribable part perked up spiritedly! 3 My movements paused. Julian's body stiffened. Before, he was just burying his face. Now he wished he could stuff his entire head into the crack of the exam table. Dead silence. I haven't been in the industry long, but in proctology, I've seen what I should and shouldn't see. Local reflex caused by stimulation during examination—it's in the textbooks. It happens occasionally, totally normal. But... Theory is theory. When this "normal category" happens between two arch-enemies in this situation... It feels completely different! "Ahem." I cleared my throat, trying to maintain calm. Even putting on a bit of... Well, the numbness of seeing it all. "Normal physiological phenomenon. I've seen it plenty." "You... you've seen plenty?" Julian suddenly snapped. "Even if you've seen plenty, there's a quality gap!" "Mine, at the very least, is a premium grade!" He stiffened his neck, his shame mixed with a bizarre sense of... Defiance? I withdrew my finger expressionlessly: "Average." Just one word. Light as a feather. Smashing onto Julian's crumbling self-esteem. "What?" He exploded. Almost jumped off the exam table, forgetting the pain. "What do you mean average? Are your eyes covered in cow dung!" "I'm clearly 7 inch—" "What 7 inches? I meant the severity of the hemorrhoids is average." I rolled my eyes. "What is in that brain of yours? Playing too hard? Restrain yourself, Teacher Gu." He pulled up his pants frantically. "I... I wasn't thinking anything!" I tossed him a pack of disinfectant wipes with disdain. "Based on the exam, Stage II mixed hemorrhoids. Surgery recommended. Minimally invasive, quick recovery." "Surgery?" Julian's face turned green. "No! I have a schedule next week!" "Then see you on the trending topics." I shrugged indifferently. "#Shocking! Top Movie Star Rushed to ER for Exploding Hemorrhoids#. How's that for a headline?" "Or #High-Mountain Flower Image Collapse? Behind Julian Gu's Ruptured Hemorrhoid: The Untold Story with a Mystery Man#." 4 Julian stood frozen, as if previewing his social death. I was secretly thrilled. Rare to see him eat humble pie. I hate Julian Gu. Because he's been hacking life since childhood. Face sculpted by gods, top grades without trying, scouted at 17, top tier by 20. The whole world praises his perfection. But only I know. As a kid, he blew up cow dung and sent the principal's wig flying. Stole watermelons and fell into a cesspit; I fished him out with a branch. Got diarrhea on a field trip without TP, crying and begging me to find him leaves. Every item could make his 80 million fans run for the hills overnight. The entertainment industry's famous icy flower, the abstinent top actor in fans' eyes. ID: "The Reddest Butt on Monkey Mountain." Fans beg for content, he plays dead. In reality, he's trash-talking in League of Legends daily. Terrible but addicted. Bombarding me on WeChat: [Layla! Log on! I'll carry you!] [Laylaaaaa~ Look at my new skin, handsome right? Like your long-lost Jungler Daddy?] Me: [Busy, don't @ me] Or just ignore him. Then I get a 60-second voice message phalanx. Click open, all lame dad jokes: "Do you know why sharks can't beat octopuses? Because they have too many hands! Hahahaha!" So annoying. Why hasn't he been cancelled yet! And right now. My lifelong nemesis, clutching his butt, is experiencing his darkest hour: "Surgery is fine, but you must be the lead surgeon!" I smiled: "Sure. Call me Daddy first." Julian: "!!!" "Lay! La! In! Your! Dreams!!!" "I'd rather die than yield!" 5 "Oh?" I shrugged nonchalantly. "Forget it then. We have plenty of experts here. I'll help you contact..." "Wait!" Julian panicked. "Anything else! Anything but calling you Daddy!" That's the sentence I was waiting for. "Okay then. Get me a signed autograph from Keke. Addressed 'To my dearest Layla'." The air went still. Next second: "Layla, you stan my rival?!" He spun around in anger. "When did you go blind? Him? That national school hunk with painted-on abs, three layers of insoles, and plastic surgery his mom wouldn't recognize! You stan him? Am I not ten thousand times better? Face! Body! Talent! Acting! Box office appeal!!" I dug my ear with my pinky: "So loud. He's gentle, loves his fans, and..." "Gentle? Loves fans?" Julian jumped in anger. "That's a persona! A persona, do you understand! Privately he..." "Cut the crap." I interrupted him ruthlessly. "Doing it or not? One word. If not, I'm booking Director Wang. He loves celebrity cases." I reached for the phone. "Don't!" "Da... Daddy..." Me: "???" I didn't react for a moment. Wait... bro? What happened to 'rather die than yield'? This flexibility. I'm speechless. Julian, red-faced and exasperated: "Happy now... hurry up! Surgery!" I suppressed a smile, walked over slowly, and patted his head: "Good boy. That's right. Don't worry, leave your little chrysanthemum to Daddy. Guaranteed clean cut." I paused, leaning close to his red ear. "Don't scream like a pig on the operating table later and embarrass Daddy." Julian ground his molars: "Tch! Just a small surgery! When has Big Bro ever been scared? One shot of anesthesia, sleep, done!" Ten minutes later. "Holy sh*t! Layla! Layla!!!" Heart-wrenching screams came from the bathroom. Accompanied by the sound effects of "explosive artillery fire." "I feel like my intestines are coming out! What the hell is this stuff! Murder! Absolute murder!" I sat outside, leisurely recording on my phone: "Ooh, isn't this our icy, abstinent top actor? Why does taking a dump sound like a symphony orchestra?" "Layla! Get the hell away from me!!" His roar carried a despairing whimper. "Wuwuwu... life is too hard... just let me die..."
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