All of Huan Zi's friends know how scared she is of dentists. This is not her fault. In her childhood, a dentist once pulled a dangling tooth out of her mouth without anesthesia. When Huan Zi recounts this incident vividly to the handsome dentist in front of her, he looks astonished.

"Modern hospitals are humane," he says, trying to comfort her.

But humane isn't enough. Fifteen years after that tooth incident, Huan Zi finds herself deeply trapped in that childhood nightmare. As she lies on the dentist chair with her hands clutched, her face contracts and her small eyes stare hard at the dentist.

The dentist looks worried. "Why are you so nervous? Does a tooth hurt?" Huan Zi waves her head. "Try to relax," he says, plucking around Huan Zi's teeth with a tiny hook.

Huan Zi shuts her eyes, anticipating the bone-chilling drill. Surprisingly, the dentist says: "Shut your mouth and take a break. There's something I need to discuss with you."

The dentist asks Huan Zi if he could take a picture for her. It's not an X-ray photo, but a common picture, of her teeth. Huan Zi agrees without thinking, taking a picture involves no pain.

But the dentist says the pictures will be useful for his medical studies. Such terrible teeth are hard to come by these days.

In order to take quality photos, the dentist calls out two colleagues who bring a professional camera. As the camera flashes into her mouth, Huan Zi wonders if she would look better if the dentists paid more attention to her overall appearance. What a waste for such a good camera.

While Huan Zi pities the camera, the dentist says: "If you take pictures of your teeth every six months, you'll realize how your teeth are decaying. Do you want one of the pictures? We can make an extra."