The Denture Craftsman Part I

Dr. Liu is a dentist, though strictly speaking, he’s not really a dentist in the formal sense. At best, you could call him a craftsman. He doesn’t treat oral diseases; instead, he specializes in making dentures for people missing teeth — taking molds, crafting, installing, and polishing artificial teeth.

His studio sits deep inside a narrow, dim, and damp alley in the old, run-down part of the city near Laoximen. The houses lining the alley are low and patched together with all sorts of illegal extensions, each one trying to grab as much extra space as possible. Some even stretch their windows outward with stainless steel frames to make tiny bay windows — just twenty extra centimeters, enough to dry shoes or stack clutter, and that small “gain” makes the owners secretly proud of themselves. Overhead, drooping electric wires tangle together like spider webs — some wound up, some crudely reconnected after snapping, the insulation tape peeling and curled.

A narrow, dim, and damp alley in the old, run-down part of the city near Laoximen.

Even in such a back alley, Dr. Liu’s studio doesn’t even have a signboard. Patients lie on a medical recliner while Dr. Liu skillfully uses his tools to polish, fit, or mold dentures.

Dr. Liu’s studio.

Dr. Liu is sixty-four years old. He doesn’t wear the typical white doctor’s coat, nor a mask or sterile gloves. His workspace is simple: one medical chair, a basic polishing machine, and a messy worktable full of molds and tools. His hair is neatly combed, his face smooth and youthful for his age. He wears a tidy black leather jacket, slim-fit pants, and sneakers.

Dr. Liu skillfully used his tools to carefully install and polish dentures for those who needed them.

What surprises most people is his smoking — he simply can’t go without it. One cigarette after another, non-stop. Even when he’s adjusting dentures inside a patient’s mouth, he’s got a cigarette dangling from his lips. Can you imagine that scene? What a sight!

To be continued.