Operation Hemorrhoid: My Best Friend's Brother is My Surgeon?! Chapter 1

My best friend's older brother is a cold, brilliant surgeon who looks like a Greek god. I've always been terrified of him.

One night, while devouring skewers at a BBQ joint, I passed out from blood loss and was rushed to the ER.

Turns out, the icy heartthrob was the one performing my hemorrhoidectomy...

* * *

I might be the first person in history to be carried away by an ambulance because of hemorrhoids.

Here's how it went down:

That night, my chaotic best friend, Zoey, insisted on dragging me out for BBQ. Even though I knew I'd been bleeding for days, I couldn't resist the siren call of grilled meat.

A bunch of us from middle school were tearing through skewers and beer when I excused myself to the restroom. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor.

I woke up in the hospital where Zoey’s brother works.

Zoey was grinning. "You're a legend, Sarah. We were all freaking out thinking you were dying, but nope—just a hemorrhoid explosion."

"Three BBQ dinners... and you never speak of this again."

"Deal, Your Majesty!"

Later, my parents showed up, and then I was wheeled into the operating room.

The surgeon? Dr. Ethan Stone. Zoey's actual brother.

Before surgery, I was clawing at the door frame, wailing. Zoey was happily prying my fingers off.

"Go on! My brother is the best, don't be scared!"

"I want a different doctor! Switch doctors! Mom!"

The hallway leading to the OR was quiet, making my screeching even more embarrassing.

My mom actually helped Zoey pry me loose. "Sarah, stop it. Ethan is the Vice Chief of Proctology. I asked around; nobody is better than him."

"I don't care! It's just a hemorrhoid, I don't need a genius! I want a female doctor!"

"Oh, stop being a baby! Did you learn nothing in school? Doctors don't see gender, only patients..."

In the end, I went quietly. Because while I was fighting a losing battle against my mom and Zoey, a tall figure in a white coat stopped in front of us. His dark eyes swept over me calmly.

"Let's go."

That cold voice. That crushing aura...

I turned beet red, let go of the door, and followed him into the OR like a scolded puppy.

Zoey says I'm scared of her brother. She's right. Since we were kids, just seeing him makes my heart race.

I won't detail the surgery. It was a humiliating blur of consciousness and fear. I'm traumatized.

Now I have a new symptom. Before, seeing him made me nervous. Now, seeing him makes me pale, dizzy, and chilled to the bone.

Basically, I'm useless.

Even worse was the post-op checkup.

After morning rounds, Ethan walked in, pristine in his white coat, snapping on medical gloves.

He pulled the curtain. His voice was icy and professional. "Pants down. Lie on your stomach."

Tears welling up, my body obeyed automatically.

A rectal exam right after surgery? Kill me now!

The pain made me break out in a cold sweat. I instinctively whimpered, "Ethan... Dr. Stone... it hurts, please be gentle."

Holy crap. Was that weak, pathetic voice mine? Why did it sound so... wrong?

I felt his hand pause for a second. I buried my face in the pillow, wishing for death.

That hemorrhoid surgery became the psychological shadow over my life.

Not to mention the agony of the first post-op poop. It made me question my will to live.

I howled like a banshee for days.

The day I was discharged, my mom went to handle the paperwork. I sat in Ethan's office, clutching my butt, watching him write. He casually reminded me: "Avoid spicy and greasy food. Rest well. Sitz baths with warm water after bowel movements..."

Face burning, I nodded like a bobblehead. "Mhm, mhm, mhm..."

After the instructions, the room went silent. He suddenly looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze was dark and unreadable.

I shivered, stuttering, "G-got it. I remember everything."

A slow smile curved his lips. "Good. Go home."

Damn it. Why am I such a coward? I had nowhere to vent my frustration.

Later, seeing Zoey, I snapped. I put her in a headlock. "Your brother saw everything! This is on you!"

Zoey gasped for air. "Don't shoot the messenger... Sarah, let go!"

I squeezed tighter. "Today, sister teaches you a lesson!"

Twenty days into my recovery, I was back to my old tricks with Zoey.

My "friends" from middle school insisted on celebrating my survival.

Since they brought a fruit basket to the hospital, I went.

We had hotpot. They ordered a split pot, and I swear on my life I only ate from the non-spicy broth.

But that night, my butt was on fire, and there was blood again.

Disaster. I panicked.

I texted Zoey to ask her brother if it was serious.

She panicked too. "You have his WeChat! Ask him yourself! He's home right now. Voice call him. If he asks, don't mention the hotpot! Sisters for life, snitches get stitches!"

I...

Call Ethan?

I opened our chat. The last message was from last year—a mass-sent link for a Pinduoduo discount, followed by a very aggressive: "Click it! Don't make Daddy beg!"

Oh god. I forgot I spammed everyone with that. How did Ethan get on that list?!

Depressed, I backed out of the chat, planning to drag my mom to the hospital tomorrow.

Seconds later, a voice call from Ethan popped up.

I shook, hesitated, then answered. My voice trembled. "H-hello, Dr. Stone."

"Hm." Ethan sounded tired and indifferent. "Zoey said you're bleeding. What happened?"

I froze like a kid caught stealing cookies. "I don't know. I ate hotpot, but it was clear broth. Nothing spicy."

"Is it a lot of blood?"

"Uh, not a lot, but not a little."

"Pain?"

"A bit."

"Is anyone home?"

"Dad's on night shift. Just Mom and me."

"Okay. I'll come over and take a look."

Wait, what? A house call? For my butt?

I panicked. "No need! I'll go to the hospital tomorrow! First thing in the morning!"

"That works too. Be at my office by 8 AM."

The call ended. My face fell. God, why?! Can't I see a different doctor?

The next day, I went alone.

Mom had work. Zoey was interning at her uncle's company. Nobody would take time off for me. Their excuse was uniform: "You're not three. It's just Zoey's brother looking at your butt. Stop being dramatic."

I was losing it. Is it "just looking at my butt"?!

So there I was, back in Ethan's office. Pants down. Lying on my stomach.

Even though he'd seen it before, it had been twenty days... my face was the color of a pig's liver.

Ethan applied medicine. It was cold. I clenched.

Afterward, I pulled my pants up fast. My face was burning.

Thankfully, he didn't look at me. He sat at his desk writing.

"Is the constipation bad?"

I nodded. "Kind of."

"How often?"

"Every three or four days... once it was seven."

He looked up.

God, that look again. Dark, deep, soul-piercing.

My scalp tingled. "Is... is there a problem?"

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "So young, and you treat your body like this."

I defended myself. "I didn't mean to. I've been constipated since I was a kid."

"BBQ, spicy skewers, hotpot... isn't that all you and Zoey post on your Moments? You think that helps? Hm?"

That "Hm?" sent shivers down my spine. I immediately threw Zoey under the bus. "She likes it! She makes me go!"

Ethan smirked, looking at me with amusement.

I shut up, planning to slink away.

Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at me while answering. "Yeah, she's here. Got it. Bye."

I guessed it was Zoey. Sure enough, he said, "Zoey said to wait for her here. She's coming over."

"Wait where?"

"Here."

Awkward. So awkward... Zoey, you traitor, making me wait in your brother's office!

No, I need an escape plan.

"Dr. Stone, Zoey takes forever. I'll go wait outside."

"The medicine needs to set. Stay put."

"Oh."

I sat down obediently. I checked my phone—yep, missed calls from Zoey. I couldn't even be mad.

The silence was suffocating. Just me, Ethan, and a wall of posters about anal health.

There was also a doctor profile on the wall.

His ID photo. Buzz cut, cold face, sharp brows, deep eyes, high nose, thin lips... Perfect features.

The bio read: Ethan Stone, Vice Chief Physician. Graduated from China Medical University, fellowship at Peking University Medical... Specializes in anorectal diseases and pediatrics...

Ugh, the elite aura.

I knew he was the "perfect child" every parent compared their kids to.

Smart, handsome, calm... Zoey said girls have been throwing love letters at him since middle school.

But in person, he was even better looking than the photo. Tall, intense, skin so pale it glowed. Combined with that aloof attitude... deadly.

I sat there for a while. It was the VIP ward, so nobody disturbed him.

I played on my phone, but my mind wandered.

He was reading files, occasionally checking the computer. Serious profile. Sharp jawline.

A beautiful female doctor walked in. Even the white coat couldn't hide her figure.

She clicked in on heels, smiling, and handed him a Starbucks.

She was about to speak when she saw me. Raised an eyebrow. "Patient?"

Ethan glanced at me. "Sister."

The woman paused, looking me over. She laughed, a bit flirtatious. "How many sisters do you have? I know Zoey."

Ethan didn't look up. "Zoey's friend. Had surgery here recently."

"Oh."

She smiled at me. "Sorry, sis, didn't know you were here. Didn't buy one for you."

I shook my head like a bobblehead dog. "It's okay, I don't drink coffee."

She turned her attention back to Ethan. Voice soft. "Let's go see a movie tonight. There's a good one out. After work?"

"No thanks. Tired lately. Not in the mood."

Being handsome has its perks. She wasn't mad about the rejection. "Okay, next time then. Take care of yourself, don't work too hard."

They chatted a bit more, and then she left. Didn't look at me again.