Want to Be My Apprentice? Fine, Dissect a Corpse First

"Become your disciple? Serena Feng, you’re thinking too much. How could I possibly apprentice under you?" Sun Zhengdao’s reaction was even stronger than Serena’s—he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

The dignified head of the Imperial Medical Directorate apprenticing himself to a young girl—no matter how you look at it, it’s absurd. Serena Feng must be dreaming.

Who does Serena Feng think she is? Just because she cured William Wang Jinling’s eye disease, she thinks she deserves him as a disciple? Far too naive.

Serena realized she’d gotten ahead of herself. She gave an awkward smile, hurriedly bowed, and said, "I agree, I was overthinking it. With my limited skills, it’s not like I could take on a disciple. I really don’t understand, so please, Imperial Physician Sun, just say it plainly."

Take on a disciple? She didn’t have that kind of ability. She wasn’t here to promote Western medicine in ancient times—she still wanted to learn Chinese medicine herself.

"Ahem…" Sun Zhengdao coughed awkwardly, his face flushing red. Forcing himself to continue, he said, "No need to belittle yourself. Your medical skills are quite good—everyone has their specialty. You excel at trauma care, and your suturing and wound management are far beyond ordinary. It’s my son, Simon Sun (Sun Sixing), who wants to apprentice under you to learn those techniques."

How humiliating! The son of the head of the Imperial Medical Directorate apprenticing under someone else—how could he bear it? But his stubborn son simply refused to listen to reason.

If he hadn’t stopped him, his son would’ve already knelt outside Feng Manor, begging Serena Feng to take him as a disciple.

"Ah… your son? If he wants to learn wound management and suturing, I can just teach him—there’s no need for him to formally apprentice under me." Serena never intended to keep her skills secret. The only reason she hadn’t taught the imperial physicians before was because they were so unpleasant.

If they wanted to learn, they could have just asked. Instead, they’d rather criticize her behind her back. How could she be willing? If she taught them and things went wrong, she’d get blamed anyway. Did they really think Serena Feng was some kind of saint?

"That won’t do. Without the title of master and disciple, how can my son learn your secret techniques?" Sun Zhengdao was adamant about this.

"Secret techniques? Imperial Physician Sun, you’re exaggerating. It’s just suturing wounds, nothing special. Where is your son? I’ll teach him right now—he’ll pick it up in fifteen minutes." Suturing wasn’t that difficult; Serena was sure that if they watched her do it once, both Sun Zhengdao and his son could learn.

But seeing her so casual, Sun Zhengdao started to reconsider. If Serena Feng could cure William Wang Jinling’s blindness, treat Prince Rowan’s tricky hand injury, and perform emergency stroke rescue… maybe she really did know more than a little. Maybe having his son apprentice under her wouldn’t be so shameful after all.

His own medical skills were among the best in Eastlyn, but even he couldn’t cure William Wang Jinling’s eye disease. He’d seen Prince Rowan’s injury too—if he had treated it, the prince might have survived, but his leg would’ve been crippled.

Serena Feng was even more formidable than he’d imagined. Maybe his son’s choice was reasonable. Changing his mind, Sun Zhengdao said to Serena, "There’s no rush. Miss Feng, if you have time, could you do me a favor?"

Sun Zhengdao’s tone suddenly became polite. Serena Feng knew that when things got strange, there was usually trouble, but she couldn’t back down now—she was still hoping he’d take her to see Ninth Royal Uncle. She replied boldly, "Please speak freely, Imperial Physician Sun. Anything I can do, I won’t refuse."

"Good, Miss Feng, you’re straightforward. I’ll be direct too: my wife isn’t feeling well, and I’d like you to diagnose and treat her." Sun Zhengdao was also testing Serena Feng.

If Serena Feng’s skills were truly impressive, he’d let his son apprentice under her. If she only knew a little, he’d never allow it—at most, his son could learn suturing from her, but nothing more.

Treat Madam Sun’s illness?

If even the head of the Imperial Medical Directorate couldn’t cure her, it had to be a serious problem.

Serena Feng started to worry, but in this situation, she could only grit her teeth and push forward, just hoping it wasn’t something like cancer.

Led by Sun Zhengdao, Serena entered the inner courtyard. Before she even reached the door, she heard a woman groaning in pain inside. Sun Zhengdao immediately stepped forward and asked the maid, "Has Madam’s pain not eased yet?"

"No, sir," the maid replied, head lowered.

Sun Zhengdao nodded worriedly, but clearly this wasn’t the first time Madam Sun had fallen ill. He didn’t panic, just said, "Go call the young master. Tell him Doctor Feng is here."

After all, he wanted his son to see for himself whether Serena Feng had the skills.

Sigh... Seeing all this, if she still didn’t get it, she’d have wasted two lifetimes.

Serena Feng let out a sigh. Since ancient times, only masters tested their disciples—when had a disciple ever tested a master? If she really became a master, she probably wouldn’t have any authority at all.

As for taking on a disciple, Serena felt no joy—just trouble.

Entering the room, she saw a woman of about thirty lying on the bed, her face pale with pain. The woman was somewhat plump, but now looked exhausted. Seeing her clutching her belly, and knowing even Imperial Physician Sun couldn’t help, Serena guessed it must be one of a few possible illnesses. She apologized, then stepped forward to examine her.

Following her medical habits, Serena first checked clinical reactions—doctors always diagnose based on symptoms. Without using her Smart Med-Pack, she simply asked a few questions, then pressed gently on Madam Sun’s upper right abdomen. "Ow..."

As soon as she pressed the affected area, Madam Sun’s pain intensified.

"Is it a stabbing pain, or severe cramping?" Serena’s expression was calm, with not a trace of a smile—she looked unusually serious.

"It’s agony—so painful," Madam Sun replied weakly.

Sun Zhengdao stood aside, watching Serena Feng’s demeanor and expression. He instinctively slowed his breathing, not daring to approach for fear of disturbing her.

"Does it hurt here?" Serena pressed lightly on her stomach.

"No, it doesn’t hurt."

"And here?"

"It hurts." The plump woman trembled all over from the pain.

Serena withdrew her hand and checked Madam Sun’s eyelids. Hmm, the whites of her eyes and her face showed a faint yellow tint. Serena continued, "Any nausea or vomiting? Did you ever have a fever during previous attacks?"

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"Yes, I do," Madam Sun replied.

Serena Feng nodded and continued, "When did this episode start?"

"Yesterday. Last night," Madam Sun answered.

"Did you eat something greasy, and then feel a sudden cramping pain in your belly?" Serena could basically diagnose the condition, but needed to confirm.

"Yes, yes—after dinner, it started hurting in the middle of the night," Madam Sun shivered painfully.

"Alright, I understand," Serena nodded, not rushing to a conclusion.

With these symptoms, Serena could basically diagnose acute cholecystitis, but even with a diagnosis, she wouldn’t skip the necessary checks.

Serena had plenty of clinical experience, but she still relied on various instruments to confirm her judgment. Even if she trusted herself, she needed enough scientific evidence—that was her responsibility to the patient.

In the modern world, even if she could diagnose acute cholecystitis, she’d still send the patient for a liver and gallbladder scan and an ultrasound. She’d never gamble with a patient’s health.

Even seasoned doctors with years of experience could make mistakes, so CT scans and other checks were almost always required.

That’s why, in modern times, Western medicine is more popular than Chinese medicine. With all those diagnostic tools and straightforward treatments, people have more confidence—and as long as the case isn’t too complicated, even a rookie doctor won’t prescribe the wrong medicine.

Every illness gets its own medicine—stomach pain, treat the stomach; foot pain, treat the foot. Nothing else matters.

But Chinese medicine is different. It’s all about personalized treatment—according to traditional medicine, even if two patients have the same illness, their prescriptions and dosages will differ, because every body is unique.

That means you need even more experience and precise judgment. In Chinese medicine, only the old are trusted—because only then do people believe you won’t misdiagnose thanks to your experience.

Using her sleeve as cover, Serena activated her Smart Med-Pack. Madam Sun’s groans completely masked the device’s soft beeping.

Serena held Madam Sun’s hand, checking her while secretly reading the Smart Med-Pack’s diagnostic results.

Sun Zhengdao kept his eyes on Serena Feng, but just then the door banged open, forcing him to look away—giving Serena time to check the results.

Just as she’d suspected: acute cholecystitis, with necrosis of the gallbladder. Surgery was needed to remove the dead tissue.

Serena lowered her sleeve, now completely confident...

"Doctor Feng!" The one who burst in was a young man of about twenty, his skin pale—not from illness, but from rarely seeing the sun. The look he gave Serena was feverish admiration.

He entered and immediately bowed deeply to Serena Feng: "Master, please accept your disciple’s respect."

Serena quickly stepped aside, refusing to accept the bow.

"You’re too polite, Young Master Sun," she said. She hadn’t agreed to take a disciple yet, and besides...

If the would-be disciple could test the master, then surely the master could test the disciple too.

Want to be her disciple? Fine...

First, toughen up. She remembered her own first anatomy class—she couldn’t even make the first cut, and when her instructor started removing organs, she went pale and fainted on the spot. For a whole week, she couldn’t eat; even a bowl of pork intestine noodles made her throw up everything.

But you get used to it. Later, she could watch her juniors dissect a corpse while eating pork intestine noodles, completely unfazed.

If he wanted to be her disciple, he’d have to pass that test.

This gentle-looking Simon Sun—who knew if he had what it took.

If he did, great—she’d have found a good assistant to boss around. If not, sorry, Serena Feng wouldn’t accept him.

Serena’s eyes narrowed, radiating a dangerous energy. Sun Zhengdao and Simon Sun both shivered, sensing trouble. When they looked up, Serena had already composed herself and reported Madam Sun’s diagnosis to Sun Zhengdao.

"That’s correct. Does Miss Feng have a treatment plan?" Sun Zhengdao asked seriously.

This concerned both his wife’s health and his son’s future.

"I do," Serena replied simply, her lashes quivering as she hid the glint in her eyes.

If you want me to treat your wife, that’s fine...

But first, take me to see Ninth Royal Uncle!