Prosthetic Limb and Nolan’s Frustration

Prince Titus of Lyndaria’s heart leapt up and down with every word Serena Feng spoke. No matter how much he reminded himself to stay calm, rational, and dignified—to keep his composure and not let her look down on him—he still couldn’t help but ask, “Miss Serena, what about my leg? When will you finish the prosthetic so I can walk like a normal person?”

He cared deeply for his country and people, but only if he himself was well. Serena Feng’s energy was limited, so of course she would make his prosthetic first; she couldn’t help anyone else.

Everyone is selfish. He was no exception.

“Second Prince, the simplest way to install a prosthetic is to just fix it to the stump. But that kind isn’t very useful—it can’t bear much weight. The prosthetic I plan for you will be directly anchored to your bone. This method is more complex, but it’ll make the prosthetic fit your body much better.

I’ll add a special material to the prosthetic that will extend into your skin, so the tissue will gradually grow around it and bond tightly. This will make the prosthetic stronger and more practical, and you won’t feel any discomfort. Once you’re fully healed, your left leg will walk like a normal person’s—maybe even run.”

This was a new military technology, designed for wounded soldiers so they could live normal lives after leaving the battlefield. Ironically, she hadn’t used it on any soldiers yet, but was about to use it for this Second Prince.

At that moment, Prince Titus’s heart finally settled. If Ninth Royal Uncle weren’t standing nearby, he would’ve rushed forward and hugged Serena Feng in gratitude.

“When? When will you do it?” He wanted to stand, to walk like a normal person. He’d dreamed of this for fifteen years—ever since the accident at age five, he’d never stopped wishing he could stand again.

Serena Feng didn’t answer. Instead, she quickly sketched a few lines on white paper, then tore it off: “Second Prince, here are my requirements. When you’re ready, let me know and I’ll operate anytime. Also, take good care of your health. Even though it’s ‘just’ a prosthetic installation, if something goes wrong it could cost you your life.” Like postoperative infection—especially since this prosthetic would be anchored to the bone, the risk was even higher.

Prince Titus glanced over the list, then read it carefully. Even without a brush, Serena Feng’s handwriting was bold and powerful—not at all like a typical woman’s.

"Three days. I’ll get everything done in three days. I’ll meet every requirement you listed." Prince Titus was anxious—if Serena Feng hadn’t asked for so much, he would have wanted to start today.

"Alright, send someone to fetch me in three days." Money and power really do make a difference—he could build an operating room and produce the equipment she needed in just three days. Back when William Wang Jinling built her a surgical suite, it had taken much longer.

"For these three days, Second Prince, focus on your health. Your body is too weak for prosthetic installation right now." Serena Feng did her duty as a doctor, explaining everything clearly. Finally, she picked up her medicine chest: "If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving."

"Alright, take care, Miss Serena." Prince Titus was still lost in the joy of possibly walking like a normal person, so he responded to Serena Feng’s words on instinct. By the time he came to his senses, both Ninth Royal Uncle and Serena Feng were gone.

Prince Titus felt so frustrated. He desperately needed someone to share his joy with, but—he couldn’t tell outsiders. He was afraid that if the news got out, someone would sabotage it. He remembered how Serena Feng’s treatment of William Wang Jinling’s eye disease had been plagued with trouble.

Ninth Royal Uncle had come hoping to see Serena Feng make a fool of herself, but unexpectedly she really did have a way to let Prince Titus walk like a normal person. To say he wasn’t shocked would be a lie—but at the same time, he felt proud of Serena Feng. The woman he had his eye on was truly extraordinary.

Ninth Royal Uncle was happy; his steps even felt lighter. Using the excuse of escorting Serena Feng, he sent everyone else away.

"Serena Feng, how confident are you that the Second Prince will recover?" Serena had sounded so certain, but Ninth Royal Uncle worried something might go wrong. If Prince Titus’s hopes were dashed, he definitely wouldn’t let Serena Feng off easy. There were things Serena hadn’t considered, so Nolan had to think them through for her.

Serena Feng didn’t need Nolan to remind her—if she wasn’t fully confident, she would never have suggested the treatment plan. "Over ninety percent."

For a doctor, over ninety percent confidence was more than enough to proceed. After all, no surgeon ever claims a hundred percent certainty—some complications can never be entirely avoided, no matter how careful you are.

With over ninety percent certainty, Ninth Royal Uncle was reassured. He knew Serena Feng’s medical skills well. Still, what really intrigued Nolan was who had taught Serena Feng—after all, even the Valley Master of the Divine Healer Valley couldn’t guarantee success. Nolan was smart enough not to ask, though; instead, he brought up someone else.

"What about the Crown Prince? What’s your view of his condition?" Nolan didn’t want Serena Feng involved with the Crown Prince’s illness—he worried that if she couldn’t save him, she’d only get into trouble. Now it seemed he’d underestimated her.

Heart-repair surgery—maybe Serena Feng really could pull it off.

"The Crown Prince? He was born with a heart defect." Serena Feng frowned slightly. Wasn’t she told not to get involved with the Crown Prince’s illness? Why bring it up again? Congenital heart disease wasn’t a minor issue—even she couldn’t be too confident.

"Yes, but if you were to treat him, how confident would you be?" Nolan pressed. Serena Feng thought for a moment, then answered cautiously, "At most, seventy percent."

If she really had to do it, operating on the Crown Prince’s heart wasn’t impossible—but she’d need to ensure her own safety first. She was a doctor, not a god; she could only race against death, not snatch someone back once they’d crossed the line.

Seventy percent? That was far too risky. Nolan couldn’t let Serena Feng take that chance: "Don’t let the Crown Prince find out."

Nolan reminded Serena Feng again. He was afraid that if she saw the Crown Prince having an episode, she’d forget his status and make a rash decision that would put herself at risk. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Serena, but based on what he knew of her, she really might do something impulsive.

"I’ll do my best." Some things were hard for her to control, and Nolan understood that, so he didn’t say more. He just quietly considered whether it was time for Serena Feng to leave the capital for a while.

Serena Feng had no idea what Nolan was thinking. When she saw him fall silent, she became wary. As they reached the courtyard, she spoke up: "Ninth Royal Uncle, please stop here. I can find my own way."

She bowed to Nolan, not caring if he agreed, then quickened her pace toward the side gate, asking a servant to escort her home.

He’d given her a hard time that morning, and now he was sending her off warmly at night—bringing up the Crown Prince’s condition again. Who knew what Nolan was planning? His words were obviously a test; caution was best.

Serena Feng couldn’t be blamed for being cautious. She’d just offended Nolan that morning, so she wouldn’t dare accept the privilege of being personally escorted by him.

"Ungrateful."

Nolan stopped in his tracks, snorted coldly, and turned to head back inside.

His pride wouldn’t let him cling shamelessly. Serena Feng’s refusal was so clear he couldn’t ignore it, and her single sentence ruined his good mood.