The waiting area of that men's clinic downtown is always quiet to the point of awkwardness.
That morning, two men sat on a bench, one behind the other. 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 on his forehead. They didn't know each other, but a shared 'unspeakable difficulty' created a subtle resonance between them.
The shirted guy spoke first. He looked around and asked in a low voice, “Bro, are you... here to see that too?”
The fat man nodded and gave two awkward laughs. "Mm. What about you?"
“I have a red ring on my JJ.” The shirt guy, after saying it, blushed first. “I don’t know how I got it. It’s still there after washing it several times.”
The fat man was stunned for a moment, then said bitterly: "What a coincidence. Mine is a green ring."
The two fell silent at the same time. The air conditioner in the waiting area hummed, and the atmosphere suddenly became heavier.
The man in the shirt tentatively asked, 'Is it serious?'
“I don’t know. I was scared to death. I couldn’t sleep last night.” The fat man wiped away a sweat. “That red thing of yours... what does it look like?”
“Kind of like a print mark, but not quite. What about yours?”
"It's bright green, and the edges feel a little fuzzy too. I looked it up on Baidu, and the more I looked, the more panicked I got."
As the two were talking, a nurse came out through the door and called the number: “Mr. Zhang, please go to consulting room No. 3.”
The man in the shirt (Mr. Zhang) stood up, nodded toward the overweight man, and walked in.
Five minutes later, he came out.
His expression relaxed a lot, even seeming relieved. The portly man immediately leaned over: 'How is it? 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 issue, just told me to pay attention to hygiene when I get back.'
The fat man lit up, feeling somewhat relieved. But when it was his turn to be called, his legs were still a little weak.
He walked into the examination room, and the doctor told him to lie down for an examination. When the light shone down, his palms were so sweaty from nervousness.
Wearing gloves, the doctor examined him carefully, then used a cotton swab to pick up a little something, his expression gradually growing serious.
"The situation isn't very optimistic." The doctor pushed up his glasses. "This green ring... will spread slowly. If it's not dealt with in time, the tissue may necrose, and in severe cases, it could be life-threatening."
The whole fat man was dumbfounded: "What?! But the one with the red ring just now—you said it was fine?"
The doctor sighed, his tone calm yet carrying a hint of helplessness:
“Oh, that’s different.
A ring of lipstick on JJ and a ring of mold are completely different things.”
The consultation room fell silent for a full five seconds.
At first the fat man froze, 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. The lucky one in front, on the other hand, was just a lipstick stain left after getting intimate with his girlfriend last night.
When he left the clinic, his steps were unsteady. Mr. Zhang was still waiting outside for the result, and when he saw him come out, he asked with concern: “Bro, are you okay?”
The fat man gave a miserable laugh and waved his hand. "It's fine... it's just mold. Yours is lipstick; mine is real mold."
Mr. Zhang froze for two seconds, then couldn't help but chuckle softly. 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 bitter smile: "Yeah. Same kind of circle, but the fate is worlds apart."
The doctor prescribed medicine and instructed him to apply it on time and keep the area dry. The plump man took the prescription and felt as if all his strength had been drained away. He sat back down on the bench and chatted with Mr. Zhang for a few more words.
“Actually I’m afraid too.” Mr. Zhang suddenly said, “Before I went in just now, all I could think was, ‘Could it be an illness?’ Then the doctor took one look and laughed, saying, ‘This color is fresh, like it was just applied.’ At the time I wanted nothing more than to find a crack in the ground to crawl into.”
The fat man nodded. "Now I actually wish I were the lipstick one. The word mold sounds awful no matter how you hear it."
The two sat for a while longer until the nurse reminded them they could leave. When they walked out of the clinic, the sunlight was a bit glaring. Mr. Zhang patted his shoulder and said, “Use the medicine on time, and you’ll get better. Next time... be more careful about the environment.”
The fat man said with tears and laughter: "Definitely. I won't use public bathhouse slippers again."
From that day on, this story of the "red circle and green circle" became a private joke between the two of them. Mr. Zhang later even added the chubby man's WeChat, and would occasionally send a meme teasing him: "Have you checked today? Red or green?"
The fat man would always reply with a "Get lost," then attach a photo of a medicine box.
At the one-month follow-up, the green circle had disappeared. As the overweight man walked out of the examination room, he deliberately sat for a while in the waiting area. Thinking of the conversation that day, he still could not help shaking his head and laughing.
That one sentence from the doctor became his most unforgettable memory:
Lipstick and mold are really two different things.
And life is sometimes so absurd—the same position, the same shape, yet the outcome can send someone straight from heaven into an awkward hell.
On the day the re-examination results came out, the portly man—later we all called him Old Zhou—was completely relieved.
The green circle completely disappeared, skin returned to normal. The doctor just advised him to keep it dry and avoid public baths for a while. 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 moment he could: 'How is it? Has the green faded?'
Old Zhou sent back a photo of a medical report, with the caption: 'Retreated. Finally upgraded back to human from mold.'
Mr. Zhang instantly replied with a string of 'hahas,' adding: 'Celebrate? I'll treat you to soup tonight. Consider it a toast to the friendship between 'Lipstick Man' and 'Mold Man.'
The two became friends like that.
Calling them friends is 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 was most afraid of then?" Old Zhou once said, resting his chin in 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're moldy.'"
Mr. Zhang laughed so hard he nearly 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 finished laughing and then both sighed at the same time.
That experience was like a splinter, not deeply embedded, but it would always surface at some unexpected moment. Old Zhou later didn't even dare go to public swimming pools and would take extra glances while showering; Mr. Zhang became allergic to any red marks. Once, when his wife's lips brushed against him, he instinctively looked down to check and was scolded by his wife all night.
"Are you crazy?" his wife was furious at the time.
Mr. Zhang could only force a dry laugh: 'Last time, the lipstick scare left me with lingering effects.'
My wife rolled her eyes but didn't pursue the matter further.
In the blink of an eye, half a year passed.
Old Zhou's condition did not relapse, and his life returned to normal. He sometimes still thought of the bench outside the consultation room, the hum of the air conditioner, and those hesitant conversations between him and Mr. Zhang. One night, he suddenly sent a message to Mr. Zhang on WeChat:
“Actually, red circles and green circles are both reminders.
Red reminds you not to be too reckless, green reminds you to pay attention to hygiene.
Life is like that, the same position, the results can be worlds apart.
Mr. Zhang took a long time to reply:
"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 down his phone.
The night outside the window was deep. He suddenly felt that some embarrassments, once laughed at and spoken aloud, were no longer so terrifying. Whether it was lipstick or mold, they all eventually became tacit signals between the two of them.
And the doctor's phrase 'two different things' became the line Old Zhou most often recalled when facing various situations in life that 'looked similar but turned out completely different.'
The same position.
The same shape.
It’s a world apart.
Life is sometimes so absurd, yet so fair.
It always gives you the most straightforward answer when you are most flustered.
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