I tried to pretend Fangli’s mouth was just a canvas, and our goal was to create some art. Oh God, and now look, some blood—I mean, red paint—to use.

“We hit pulp!” Mr. Wang declared triumphantly. “That means we’re into the part of the tooth that houses the nerve, so we’ll put medication in to alleviate poor Fangli’s pain, and we’ll do the root canal—”

“Ooot cawnaw?” Fangli said, her mouth still open because of the bite block.

He patted her assuredly and amended, “We’ll do the painless root canal on Monday. So this is actually the start of the root canal procedure, but because today’s just an emergency visit, we’ll stop here and use a temporary filling over the medication. Name of the game today is no pain, right, Fangli?”

She nodded ever so slightly, which to me felt dangerous given how many power tools were in her mouth. Sheesh.

Since the mask limited my reaction options, I tried to show with my eyes how fascinated and not gross I found all this gobbledygook.

“You like art, Andrew?” Mr. Wang asked, mixing the medication on his tray.

Ha. Life can be funny sometimes. “I suppose.”

“Well, dentistry is like medicine, but it requires proficiency with art and your hands, even more so than most doctors.” He cleared his throat. “But, er, of course your parents know that, being surgeons and all.”

“Uh-huh.” I moved the suction around, trying to tell myself it was just water, perfectly normal and not bacteria-filled.

Note to self: When possible, lean toward playing the future architect, computer scientist, lawyer, or CEO—any profession where it’s okay to look as nauseous as I feel in a medical setting.

Thirty minutes and too many hand washes later (I hoped Mr. Wang wouldn’t notice how much less soap he had now), I threw my borrowed white coat into the hamper and took a seat in the Wang Dental Palace waiting room (I was not sitting in any of those disgusting operatories, even after I saw how much disinfectant was used).

“Andrew?” I heard from down the hallway.

Even though I wanted to call out What now? and stay where I was, I forced myself to get up and make my way to him. Instead of walking right in, I peeked around the door to his office, hoping it’d be quick. “Yes, Shǔshú?”

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he swiveled away from his computer and toward me. I loped in and sat with my ankles crossed (relaxed but respectful). I sincerely hoped he couldn’t hear my beating heart from where he sat.