Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I couldn’t think of a more clichéd scenario than having a toothache so bad it made me bleed—forcing me to go to the hospital—only to find out the dentist pulling my tooth was my ex-boyfriend.

The second I locked eyes with the attending doctor in his white coat, I wanted to run. But the nurse held me back, telling me not to go the wrong way.

For the sake of my tooth, I endured it.

My best friend, Olivia Wilson, told me I should count my blessings. "At least Ethan Davis isn’t an obstetrician," she said. "Can you imagine how suffocating it’d be if your ex was the doctor delivering your baby?"

"Been eating a lot of sugar lately, haven’t you? Still snacking after brushing your teeth? And you don’t rinse your mouth afterward, do you?" I never knew getting a tooth pulled could feel so endless. I’d tried to stay quiet the whole time to avoid awkwardness, but Ethan Davis just had to ask.

A good ex should be like they’re dead. Please, Ethan Davis—treat me like I’m dead!

The nurse beside us couldn’t hold back her laughter. Well, as long as I didn’t feel embarrassed, someone else would. I turned to her and said, "Your doctor’s good-looking, too bad he has a mouth. Is he this harsh with all his patients?"

Ethan Davis, who was working on my mouth, motioned for me to stop talking. I reluctantly shut up—only for him to tell me to open wide again. Of all the "exes meet and eyes burn with hatred" clichés, I’d completely lost face. My persona as the glamorous, stunning ex-girlfriend had collapsed.

When the endless procedure finally ended, I got off the operating table, clutching my sore cheek as I waited for Ethan Davis to return my medical records. He seemed free that day; he stared at my file for ages before handing it over. "Sophia Miller. Nice name."

Quit pretending to be some big shot!

"Dr. Davis! Your girlfriend’s here with your lunch!" My heart skipped a beat when I heard that. But Ethan Davis just kept writing, like the nurse wasn’t talking about him at all. I grabbed my medical records and fled, not even sure what I was running from. Before I left, though, I couldn’t help glancing back at the girl standing by the door, holding a lunch box. I had to admit—Ethan Davis had great taste in women.

"Chloe Brown wants to see the handsome Ethan Davis! Dentist hottie, notice me~ Notice me~!"

The sweet sound of a young girl’s voice followed me out. She and Ethan Davis actually made a good match!

Four years after we broke up, he had a new girlfriend. It was totally inconsistent with the "heartbroken romantic" persona he’d built on Weibo, where he posted late-night sad messages.

I first found out about Ethan Davis two days after my junior year started—when I ended up on the confession wall. To be precise, the most popular girl in my class had publicly posted a photo of a guy eating in the cafeteria and confessed to him. I happened to be in the picture, and the shot made me—dressed in a white dress—look surprisingly beautiful. Maybe it was the soft, hazy lighting?

Comments quickly shifted focus to me. When my roommate excitedly showed me the post, I noticed someone had mentioned the guy’s name and attached a side-profile photo. The second I saw Ethan Davis’ sharp jawline—fresh off a basketball game, oozing charm—I couldn’t deny I was superficial.

So, as the self-proclaimed president of the "Looks Matter Club," I launched an all-out pursuit of Ethan Davis that night. I found out he was a freshman majoring in Stomatology, 182cm tall, and single. I had everything I needed—except his contact info.

I was debating whether to spend a month’s breakfast money buying his roommate meals in exchange for details about him when my WeChat pinged with a friend request. I looked closely, then screamed—scaring my roommates half to death.

"Hi, I’m Ethan Davis from the Stomatology Department." The last person who messaged me like that was a salesperson. I accepted the request in a flash. The only roommate who hadn’t jumped at the noise leaned over to look at his profile picture and, drawing on her experience of dating five guys in three years, told me, "He’s a player."

Great. My chance at a romance was declared dead before it even started. I felt deflated, like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. My roommate had a knack for reading guys, so if she said that, it must be true. My excitement fizzled out instantly.

Still, I replied out of politeness: "Hi, I’m Sophia Miller from the New Media and Communication Department."

"Do you have time to grab lunch tomorrow noon?" Ethan Davis asked me to meet him at a Chinese restaurant less than 100 meters left of the school’s east gate. I’d eaten there once when touring the campus—the food was good, but the prices were steep.

My roommate didn’t hesitate: "Asking you out this fast? Total player."

I bet Ethan Davis sneezed a few times in his dorm that day—since someone was badmouthing him behind his back.