Pain!
Pain so intense it could make someone faint.
His teeth were chattering. Prince Terrence Valen bit down hard on his lip, refusing to let himself cry out.
He seriously doubted Serena Feng was even a woman—this woman actually reached her hand into his wound and pulled out the retracted tendon.
This woman simply propped his foot up on a low table, her whole face nearly pressed against it, stitching into his leg one needle at a time.
Prince Terrence Valen trembled all over from the pain, biting his lips until they bled, yet Serena Feng acted as if she didn’t notice at all. Her eyes were fixed only on Terrence’s wound, as if in this moment, nothing else existed for her.
Terrence was sure of it—Serena Feng was doing this on purpose!
"Hypocritical woman!" Terrence cursed inwardly, secretly deciding that no matter what, he would drag Serena Feng back to Lyndaria this time.
Once in Lyndaria, with no one to back her up, he could deal with Serena Feng however he wanted.
He would never let this woman off easily. The pain he suffered today, he would make her pay back a hundredfold. Little did he know, this time he was truly blaming Serena Feng unfairly.
Ultra-fine work like suturing tiny tendons and blood vessels is supposed to be done under a microscope, but in these circumstances, Serena Feng couldn’t possibly take out a microscope. All she could rely on were her own eyes and sense of touch—which meant she absolutely couldn’t lose focus, couldn’t afford a single mistake.
Besides, she’d already warned Prince Terrence Valen it would hurt, and anesthesia wasn’t an option. He was the one who refused the painkiller, so this pain was entirely his own doing.
Terrence was sweating from the pain, but Serena Feng was drenched as well—her hands covered in blood, her back aching from bending over, yet she didn’t dare move.
More than a dozen people stood in the room, but not a single one dared speak. Even their breathing was cautious, terrified they’d disrupt Serena Feng.
Feeling sweat about to drip from her brow, Serena Feng called out directly, "Wipe my sweat!"
No one responded. Nolan Dongling heard her, gripped the handkerchief in his hand, but didn’t move.
Serena Feng snapped, "Are you all idiots? Didn’t you hear me say wipe my sweat?"
She couldn’t stop her hands, couldn’t move her eyes—only her mouth could function. Immersed in her work, she didn’t have the bandwidth to care what kind of environment she was in.
"Oh, right!" Sun Zhengdao snapped out of his daze and hurried forward.
He and the other imperial physicians were utterly entranced. None of them had ever imagined anyone could suture such tiny tendons and vessels, and with no visible stitch marks. What kind of technique was this?
Her son had already said it: Serena Feng’s knife skills were almost supernatural. She could separate blood vessels on a gallbladder as fine as a hair, could peel away a membrane as thin as a cicada’s wing without damaging it.
But hearing was one thing—seeing it for himself, Sun Zhengdao was so stunned he couldn’t recover for ages. Right now, he was full of regret: he should have formally apprenticed himself to Serena Feng. Maybe then he could’ve learned these exquisite suturing and knife techniques.
Regret, regret—his son had become Serena Feng’s disciple, but if he tried to apprentice now, would Serena Feng even accept him?
Face twisted in conflict, Sun Zhengdao stepped forward, just about to wipe Serena Feng’s sweat—when Prince Terrence Valen suddenly leaned in, reached out, and took over. "Let me."
Seeing the seriousness and focus in Serena Feng’s eyes, and the beads of sweat all over her forehead, Terrence suddenly felt he might have misjudged her.
If Princess Yara hadn’t made trouble for her, Serena wouldn’t have deliberately made things difficult for him. It wasn’t his first time dealing with this woman—he knew her personality was incredibly stubborn.
So proud it was almost deadly. He had no idea where she got the confidence to be so arrogant she could ignore even his status.
As Terrence wiped the sweat from Serena’s brow, seeing that seriousness and stubbornness in her eyes, he felt as if something had slammed into his heart. Like he was bewitched, he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away.
"Move your hand," Serena snapped. What kind of idiot was this—couldn’t he see he was blocking her light?
But the owner of that hand seemed possessed, still refusing to move. Serena was about to lose it, her heart pounding—what kind of lunatic was this, trying to get himself killed?
Serena was so anxious she felt like crying. There was absolutely no room for error right now. Where did this lunatic come from? Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point—she couldn’t see, but her hands couldn’t afford to slip.
"Idiot, move your hand, are you trying to die?" Serena gritted her teeth, relying on her sense of touch to place the final stitch, silently praying she wouldn’t make a mistake. If she did, she’d kill whoever was wiping her sweat.
Can’t even wipe sweat properly—what’s the point of someone like that existing?
"Move your hand, now!" Serena’s voice shook, but Terrence still didn’t pull back. Serena was desperate, forced to close her eyes and tie off the suture by feel alone.
It was only an instant, but to Serena it felt like forever. In the blink of an eye, another layer of sweat broke out on her forehead, and her back was soaked through.
"Bastard!" This time Serena was truly furious—she hated anyone who interfered with her saving a life.
Serena grabbed the scissors, intending to cut the excess suture. Unable to see, she nearly snipped her own hand. That made her even angrier—without thinking, she swung the scissors upward, aiming straight for the hand on her forehead.
"Fine, you want to die? I’ll help you!"
Snip! The scissors slashed right into Terrence’s hand, and because she used so much force, she also cut open her own forehead. Serena didn’t even feel the pain—her whole being was consumed by rage, a murderous urge boiling up inside her.
The last time she’d felt this kind of fury was when a rival doctor sabotaged her during a surgery, fighting over a chief surgeon’s position. That sabotage ruined the operation, and the patient died as a result.