As soon as Serena Feng returned, her mind was on the two unfamiliar palace maids beside Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh. These two were definitely not simple...
If her guess was correct, they were probably sent by the Emperor. The Emperor still refused to give up on seizing the Ninth Royal Uncle's Command Medallion from her—if force didn't work, he'd switch to infiltration.
Serena toyed with the command medallion in her hand, a mocking smile appearing on her lips.
Even with trouble closing in, she didn’t regret making the medallion public. Watching the Emperor run in circles, frustrated and helpless, was just too entertaining.
Meanwhile, as Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh worried about possible spies in Serena’s household, Summer had already found an opportunity to report the day’s events to Serena, then quietly waited for her orders.
Originally, Summer was meant to replace the previous spy and be used to play against the Emperor’s agents. But... Serena had acted too soon, and Nolan’s people hadn’t managed to send a replacement in time, leaving a suspicious gap. The Emperor’s side would definitely suspect something; now Summer was nowhere near as useful as before.
Serena sighed inwardly and told Summer not to do anything for now. If the Emperor’s people approached her, she was to pretend she knew nothing.
She’d wasted a good chess piece for nothing. If that day hadn’t gotten so noisy, maybe there’d still be room to maneuver, but unfortunately...
Sigh... Now every time Serena saw Summer, she just got angry. Summer’s presence was a constant reminder of Nolan’s harsh judgment: impulsive, acting without thinking.
Summer nodded to show she understood and quietly withdrew.
She knew Serena Feng found her disagreeable now, so she didn’t dare get close. Still, she believed that with time, her loyalty would be understood.
Because the surgery was scheduled for the next day, Serena didn’t dare stay up late. She went to bed early, and when she woke up the next morning, she felt refreshed. After meeting Simon Sun in the dining hall, they went together to find Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh.
The Eighth Prince was still sound asleep. After a brief greeting with Helena, Serena asked her to carry the prince to the operating room.
Helena refused to let anyone else carry her child, holding him herself as maids and guards followed. At the operating room door, she kissed the Eighth Prince, still reluctant to hand him over to Serena.
“Can I go in?” Helena looked at Serena with a pleading expression.
Even though Serena had repeatedly assured her that the Eighth Prince’s life wouldn’t be in danger, as a mother, Helena couldn’t help but worry.
“No.” Serena replied, her tone brooking no refusal. Her cold demeanor was reminiscent of Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan.
“I’ll just stand aside, I won’t interfere,” Helena pleaded again, but Serena still shook her head.
Even though this was a “novel surgery,” the process would inevitably be bloody and tense. Serena had no time to look after Helena.
Helena, seeing her repeated requests were useless, handed the child to Serena. Serena took the prince, walked straight into the operating room, and shut the door with a decisive slam in Helena’s face. Helena stood outside, stunned.
The maids and guards behind Helena were all rather angry, thinking Serena was too arrogant. But Helena herself didn’t think Serena had gone too far.
Serena was acting for the Eighth Prince’s sake; as long as it was good for him, Helena didn’t care if Serena was being rude.
Once the Eighth Prince was brought in, Serena anesthetized him. Then she and Simon Sun waited inside for the anesthesia to take effect before starting.
When the anesthesia took effect, Serena and Simon Sun changed into surgical gowns. The blue gown made Simon look even more refined—if not for his serious expression, it would be hard to believe he was a doctor, let alone lead surgeon.
“You’ll be the lead surgeon for this operation. I’ll assist,” Serena said, wrapping up her hair and changing into operating room shoes before stepping into the inner surgery room.
“Master, maybe you should lead the surgery this time and I’ll observe,” Simon said. He was confident he could do it, but...
Because the patient was the Eighth Prince, Simon couldn’t help but feel nervous. After all, Helena only trusted Serena; otherwise, she wouldn’t have insisted on entering the operating room.
“I told you, my hand is injured—I can’t hold a scalpel right now,” Serena repeated. Simon said nothing; he knew full well her hand had healed and the injury was just an excuse.
This wasn’t a particularly delicate surgery—Serena could easily have performed it herself.
“Simon, remember: though people’s status may differ, in a doctor’s eyes, every life is the same. Whether it’s the Eighth Prince or an orphan on the table today, it makes no difference to us. Whoever the patient is, we can only do what we’re able.” Serena knew Simon was troubled by the prince’s status.
After all, the first time you operate on a “big shot,” there’s bound to be pressure. Serena remembered her own first surgery—her teacher assigned her the mayor’s wife, and she was so anxious she couldn’t sleep for days, terrified something would go wrong and the family wouldn’t forgive her.
Her teacher had told her: “From now on, treat every patient as carefully as you did the mayor’s wife. Only with that attitude will you do your best.”
Ideally, society tells us that everyone is equal before life, and for doctors, a patient’s status shouldn’t matter. But the truth is, life isn’t equal. With the same illness, the poor may lose their lives, while those with status get the best and most timely treatment.
A patient’s status matters. When facing someone of high rank versus an ordinary patient, no doctor can truly treat them the same—not even Serena.
With the same illness, saving a national leader versus saving a village elder brings very different fame and reward.
It’s not snobbery—it’s just reality.
“Simon, if you can finish this surgery for the Eighth Prince, the next ones will feel much easier.” Practicing on the most exalted patient, Simon would have nothing to fear.
“Simon, I’m not asking you to treat the Eighth Prince like any ordinary patient, but you can treat every other patient as if they were the prince. On the operating table, always give your best.” This was Serena’s own solution.
Be rigorous and careful on the operating table—do everything a doctor should. As for what happens after, the kind of care a patient receives is beyond her control.
She was a doctor, not a god—she couldn’t guarantee fairness for everyone.
Simon took a deep breath and nodded to Serena. “Master, I understand.”
He wouldn’t disappoint his master. In the future, he might encounter more high-status patients, and he couldn’t afford to be timid every time. Of course, his nerves today were mainly because this was his first solo surgery. Even with Serena nearby, he was still anxious; with any patient, he’d feel the same.
But with Serena’s reassurance before surgery, Simon relaxed a lot. Seeing he was ready, Serena gave him the signal to begin.
The lights in the operating room brightened. The Eighth Prince’s small body lay on the surgical table, looking even more frail. Simon gazed calmly at him and steadily accepted the instrument Serena handed over…
He was determined not to let his master down!