The waiting area of that men's health clinic downtown is always quiet to the point of awkwardness.
That morning, two men sat one behind the other on a bench. The one on the left was in his early thirties, wearing a neat shirt, his fingers constantly spinning his phone case; the one on the right was in his forties, slightly overweight, with fine sweat covering his forehead. They didn't know each other, but a subtle resonance arose from their shared 'unspeakable difficulty.'
The shirted man spoke first. He looked left and right, lowered his voice, and asked, “Bro, are you... here to see that too?”
The fat man nodded, gave two awkward laughs, and said, “Yeah. What about you?”
"I have a red ring on my JJ." After the shirted man finished speaking, he blushed first himself. "I don't know how I got it, and it's still there after washing it several times."
The fat man froze for a moment, then said with a pained expression, “What a coincidence. Mine’s a green ring.”
Both fell silent at once. The air conditioner in the waiting area hummed, and the atmosphere suddenly grew heavier.
The man in the shirt tentatively asked: 'Is it serious?'
“I don’t know. I was almost scared to death, I couldn’t sleep last night.” The fat man wiped the sweat off, “That red thing of yours… what does it look like?”
"Kind of like a mark, but not really. What about yours?"
“A vivid green, and the edges also had a slightly fluffy feel. I checked Baidu, and the more I looked, the more panicked I got.”
While the two were speaking, the nurse pushed open the door and called the number: “Mr. Zhang, please go to consultation room number three.”
Shirt Man (Mr. Zhang) stood up, nodded towards the portly man, and walked in.
Five minutes later, he came out.
His expression relaxed considerably, even seeming relieved. The portly man immediately moved closer: "How did it go? What did the doctor say?"
Mr. Zhang waved his hand: 'It's fine. The doctor took a look and said it's not a big problem, just told me to pay attention to hygiene when I get back.'
The fat man’s eyes lit up, and he felt somewhat relieved. But when it was his turn and his number was called, his legs still felt a little weak.
He walked into the clinic, and the doctor told him to lie down for an examination. When the light shone down, he was so nervous that his palms were covered in sweat.
The doctor put on gloves, examined it carefully, then dabbed a little of something with a cotton swab, his expression growing increasingly grave.
“The situation isn’t very optimistic.” The doctor pushed up his glasses. “This green ring... will gradually spread. If it isn’t dealt with in time, the tissue may necrotize, and in severe cases there is a risk to life.”
The fat man was completely baffled: “What?! But the one with the red ring just now—you said it was fine?”
The doctor sighed, his tone calm but carrying a hint of helplessness:
“Oh, that’s different.
"A circle of lipstick on the crotch and a circle of mold on the crotch are completely different things."
The consultation room was silent for a full five seconds.
At first the fat man was stunned, then his whole face turned red. He finally understood—his so-called “green ring” was not some romantic mark at all, but a genuine fungal infection. And the lucky guy in front was just a lipstick mark left after being intimate with his girlfriend last night.
When he walked out of the clinic, his steps were unsteady. Mr. Zhang was still waiting outside for the results. Seeing him come out, he asked with concern, “Bro, are you okay?”
The fat man gave a miserable laugh and waved his hand. “It’s nothing... I just got moldy. Yours is lipstick; mine is real mold.”
Mr. Zhang froze for two seconds, then couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. After laughing, he quickly apologized: 'Sorry, sorry, I'm not gloating. It's just... the contrast is too stark.'
The fat man also gave a wry smile: “Yeah. Same circle, but our fates are worlds apart.”
The doctor prescribed the medicine and told him to apply it on time and keep the area dry. The overweight man took the prescription, feeling as if all the strength had been drained from him. He sat back on the bench and chatted a few more words with Mr. Zhang.
“Actually, I was scared too,” Mr. Zhang suddenly said. “Before I went in just now, all I could think was, ‘Could it be that I’m sick?’ Then the doctor took one look and laughed, saying, ‘This color is fresh, like it was just painted on.’ I wanted to find a crack in the ground to crawl into.”
The fat man nodded and said with a forced laugh, “Now I’d rather be lipstick. The word ‘mold’ sounds awful no matter how you hear it.”
The two of them sat a while longer until the nurse reminded them that they could leave. When they walked out of the clinic, the sunlight was a little harsh. Mr. Zhang patted his shoulder and said, “Use the medicine on time, and you’ll get better. Next time... pay attention to the environment.”
The fat man said with a bitter smile, “Definitely. No more public bathhouse slippers.”
From that day on, this story of the 'red circle and green circle' became an inside joke between the two of them. Later, Mr. Zhang even added the fat man on WeChat, and would occasionally send a meme to tease him: 'Checked today or not? Red or green?'
The fat man would always reply with “Get lost,” and then attach a photo of a medicine box.
At the follow-up checkup a month later, the green circle was gone. When the chubby man walked out of the clinic, he deliberately sat for a while in the waiting area. Thinking back to that conversation that day, he still couldn’t help shaking his head and laughing.
That line from the doctor became his most vivid memory:
Lipstick and mold are really two different things.
And life can be so absurd sometimes—the same position, the same shape, yet the result can send someone straight from heaven into an awkward hell.
On the day the recheck results came out, the fattened-up man—later we all called him Old Zhou—was completely relaxed.
The green circle completely disappeared, and the skin returned to normal. The doctor only advised him to keep it dry and avoid public baths for a short period. When he walked out of the consultation room, the sun was shining, and even the air felt sweet.
Sure enough, Mr. Zhang sent a message on WeChat the first moment: 'How is it? Has the green faded?'
Old Zhou sent back a photo of an examination report, with the caption: "Retreated. Finally upgraded back from mold to human."
Mr. Zhang instantly replied with a string of 'hahas,' then added: 'Celebrate? I'll treat you to soup tonight. Let's toast to the friendship between 'Lipstick Man' and 'Mold Man.'
The two became friends like that.
They call themselves friends, but it's more like 'comrades who've shared extremely awkward moments.' They've had dinner twice, mostly talking about work and family, but as soon as alcohol kicks in, the conversation always circles back to that day in the clinic.
“Do you know what I feared most at the time?” Old Zhou once said, propping his chin on his hand, “I was afraid the doctor’s next words would be, ‘Prepare for the funeral arrangements.’ In the end, he just told me calmly: You’ve got mold.”
Mr. Zhang laughed so hard he almost spat out his soup: 'I had it worse. After examining me, the doctor directly asked, 'What brand of lipstick did you use last night?' My face was already red, and he even suggested I ask my girlfriend to switch to a longer-lasting one.'
The two laughed, then sighed at the same time.
That experience was like a splinter, not deep, but it would always surface at some unexpected moment. Old Zhou later didn't even dare go to public swimming pools, and would glance twice while showering; Mr. Zhang became allergic to any red marks. Once, when his wife's lips touched him, he instinctively looked down to check and was scolded by her all night.
“Are you sick?” The wife was furious at the time.
Mr. Zhang could only force a dry laugh: 'Last time I was scared by the lipstick, it left a lingering effect.'
My wife rolled her eyes but didn't press further.
In the blink of an eye, half a year passed.
Old Zhou's condition didn't relapse, and his life returned to normal. He still sometimes thought about the bench outside the consultation room, the hum of the air conditioner, and those conversations with Mr. Zhang where they both held back. One night, he suddenly sent Mr. Zhang a message on WeChat:
“Actually, red circles and green circles are both reminders.”
Red reminds you not to be too wild, green reminds you to pay attention to hygiene.
Life is like that. The same position, the results can be worlds apart.
Mr. Zhang replied after a long time:
“So next time we meet, check the color first.
Red treats, green pays for the doctor themselves.
Old Zhou replied with a middle finger emoji, then put his phone down.
Outside the window, the night was deep. He suddenly felt that some embarrassments, once laughed at and spoken aloud, were no longer so frightening. Lipstick or mold, they all eventually became tacit signals between the two.
And the doctor's phrase 'two different things' became the sentence Old Zhou most often recalled when facing various situations in life that 'seem similar but turn out completely different.'
Same position.
The same shape.
But it was a world apart.
Life is sometimes so absurd, and yet so fair.
It always gives you the most straightforward answer when you are most flustered.
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