Leaving the Palace and the Hsieh Clan Bows Its Head

“Prenatal medicine? Are you saying the medicine you gave me before saved both me and the little prince?” Though still weak, Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh perked up at the news she was out of danger. Her hand trembled as she touched her belly, confirming its roundness, and a gentle, maternal smile spread across her face.

Her child was safe.

At the same time, word spread through the palace that Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh had kept the imperial heir safe thanks to the prenatal medicine from Serena Feng. Once again, Serena became the woman every consort wanted to curry favor with.

Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh was out of danger, but that didn’t mean Serena could leave. Helena trusted no one now—only Serena. She refused to eat, wear, or use anything unless Serena had checked it first.

It wasn’t about winning favor. It was all for the child in her womb. As her pregnancy progressed, Helena’s feelings for the baby only deepened.

When the imperial physician said she might lose her child, her first concern wasn’t whether she’d lose favor or a tool for palace competition. She cared only about the child in her belly.

She was the child’s mother; the child was part of her life. During her darkest days, this baby was her companion. She couldn’t lose him—she would protect him, no matter the cost.

It was this overwhelming motherly love that kept her going after the imperial physician’s cold verdict, holding out until Serena arrived. She knew that with Serena here, she and her child had hope.

And she was right—Serena never let her down. Thinking of this, Helena gave Serena another grateful smile.

Serena saw the change in Helena. She hadn’t expected that a woman known for scheming could radiate such intense motherly love.

That’s for the best—at least this child will be happy. His mother finally doesn’t treat him as a tool.

Helena’s change of heart put Serena in a better mood, so staying to care for her wasn’t too much of a burden. But...

Faced with a constant stream of noblewomen—supposedly visiting Helena, but really seeking medical advice, fertility secrets, or prenatal help—Serena’s face darkened.

Most people would be delighted to be flattered and courted by the Emperor’s women, but Serena just found it a hassle—one problem after another.

“Serena, I’m the third miss of the Scholar’s family. I’ve heard your name since I was a girl. You’re amazing—you even cured the eldest young master’s eye disease. Could you take a look at me? I’ve been feeling weak lately and have no appetite.” She looked at Serena with hopeful eyes, waiting for her reply.

“Serena, my father is the Governor of Liangguang. If you ever need anything, just ask him—he’ll help you. Um... do you have any more of that fertility medicine?” The last sentence was barely a whisper.

“Serena, I... I was wondering if you could check me? My stomach’s been hurting these past few days. Maybe the baby’s acting up? Please help me...”

These consorts were clever; in front of Serena, each adopted a humble attitude. Even if Serena refused, they never made trouble—just came back the next day with even more expensive gifts.

After seeing what happened with the Hsieh clan and Helena, they finally understood just how important a good female doctor could be.

Didn’t you see that Noble Consort Helena and the Hsieh clan’s second wife were both childless until they met Serena—then both got pregnant? Didn’t you see Helena’s child was doomed until Serena intervened and saved him? Didn’t you see that every pregnant woman in the harem is from a family close to Serena?

That Lady Ning sure lucked out—otherwise, how could she get pregnant so early? The Ning family must have burned a lot of incense in their last life, because this time both their wives and daughters got Serena’s help.

Serena could barely handle the consorts’ flattery, but when the Virtuous, Benevolent, and Graceful Consorts all tried—openly or secretly—to get her to treat them, she finally reached her limit.

Seriously? She was a surgeon, not a gynecologist—and definitely not a fertility specialist. What did these women take her for, some kind of child-bestowing goddess?

After seven days in the palace, Helena’s condition was stable, though she needed strict bed rest. Serena finished her final checkup and asked to leave.

Serena had expected Helena to be formal and distant, but instead Helena burst out laughing: “I was wondering how long you’d last, Serena. Turns out you only made it seven days! That won’t do—in the harem, the most important thing is learning to endure.”

“Your Ladyship...” Serena was startled by Helena’s friendly tone. This woman, as noble and proud as the Empress herself, was suddenly so easy to talk to.

“What’s wrong? Surprised? Do you prefer me acting all high and mighty?” Her hair was loose, she wore only an underrobe, and though still weak, the arrogance was gone—her expression was calm and serene.

If Helena’s change in attitude toward her child was a major step, then this moment was a true transformation—her sharpness faded, replaced by quiet composure.

Serena had noticed the change days ago, but aside from medical talk, they hadn’t spoken. Serena had assumed Helena was just weak—now she realized Helena had seen through it all.

Serena smiled, genuinely: “No, Your Ladyship is much better this way—it’s good for you, and good for the little prince.”

Helena used to be dazzlingly beautiful, but lacked warmth. Now, she felt real.

“You’re honest. Aren’t you afraid I’ll punish you for it?” Helena had admired Serena from the start—otherwise, she wouldn’t have chosen to work with her.

Serena was always genuine. No matter who Helena was, or what her status, Serena was always Serena.

“Your Ladyship isn’t petty.” Helena was clever—always had been. Seeing things clearly was good for her and for the Hsieh clan.

Helena laughed: “You really know who I am, Serena. I, Xie Yankai, am not a generous person—I’m the type who always repays grudges, but also always repays kindness. You saved the lives of me and my child that day—not just a consort and prince. I, Xie Yankai, will remember this debt.” She would repay it in the future: that was the promise of a true Hsieh heiress.

Serena smiled, but didn’t take it to heart. Instead, she praised: “Your Ladyship’s name is beautiful.”

Helena knew Serena was deliberately changing the subject, but didn’t call her out. As long as she remembered Serena’s kindness, that was enough. Smiling, Helena explained the origin of her name: “My grandfather named me. Of all the girls in my generation, I was the only one he named. But what does it matter? In this deep palace, Xie Yankai no longer exists.”

In the imperial palace, there are only the Emperor’s consorts—not Hsieh heiresses. It wasn’t that she wanted to fight, but that she had no choice.

“But now, Your Ladyship is finally yourself.” Serena admitted that this version of Helena was much more likable—but she wouldn’t let Helena’s change sway her into anything she shouldn’t do.

Serena was always Serena. It didn’t matter who this woman was—her attitude toward Helena wouldn’t change. She wouldn’t become friends with Helena just because of a few words.

Serena’s refusal wasn’t obvious, but Helena was sharp. She appreciated Serena even more for knowing her place and keeping her stance—it wasn’t easy, and Helena had only just learned it herself.

Helena didn’t make things difficult for Serena. She let Serena pack her things, reported to the Emperor, and sent someone to escort Serena out of the palace.

Serena thanked her and withdrew. As she was leaving, Helena called out softly: “Serena, is there any way to resolve your feud with the Hsieh clan? I don’t want you targeting them. You know they haven’t truly harmed you. If possible, I hope you’ll reconcile—just name your terms, and the Hsieh clan will try to meet them.”

Serena paused, said nothing, and walked out. She didn’t understand Helena’s intent, but... would the Hsieh clan really set aside their pride and compensate her in a way that mattered? Helena’s words sounded nice, but didn’t mean much.

Helena watched Serena’s carefree figure, eyes full of bitterness and envy. She wanted to leave this cold, devouring harem too, but from the day she entered, she was doomed to never be free.

Helena touched her belly and murmured: “Serena really makes you love and hate her. If only you’d been born a few years earlier—someone like you would have been my closest friend. With a friend like you, I, Xie Yankai, wouldn’t have...”

...wouldn’t have entered this deep palace, wouldn’t have fought other women for one man, wouldn’t have lost myself in the harem’s battles, wouldn’t have ended up like this. Because you see things more clearly than I do—you would have told me it wasn’t worth it.

The lives of Helena and her child were worthless in the Emperor’s eyes—she was just a pawn to win over noble families. She understood her place as a pawn, but refused to accept it.

It wasn’t until the Emperor heard she might die with her child, and showed no anger, no worry, didn’t even order an investigation, that Helena understood: to him, she was just another woman in the harem—one more or less didn’t matter.

No one cared about her life or her child’s. The Hsieh clan’s claim that they insisted on Serena entering the palace—lies. It was Helena who fought to survive and demanded Serena come. The Hsieh elders only wanted to send another Hsieh girl into the palace, never caring whether Helena lived or died.