Everyone, stay calm!
Serena Feng nodded, signaling that she heard.
She understood perfectly: today, she had no choice but to endure—whether she wanted to or not. The Bloodcloak Guard were carrying out their orders, and that was reasonable enough. The Crown Prince could point at Prince Adrian and curse him out, but she, Serena Feng, could not.
To ordinary people, princes and high officials are never wrong. Even if Prince Adrian only smashed up Feng Manor—or flattened it entirely—it wouldn’t be Adrian Dongling’s fault; it would be hers, Serena Feng’s.
Serena gave a bitter laugh, braced herself, and kept handling the household affairs: "How many servants were injured? Bring in a doctor to check everyone. I’m a bit worn out and might not be able to see them all myself."
"Miss, there aren’t many injured servants. I already called a doctor—they’ve all been seen and settled. Please don’t worry." The butler quickly replied, and Serena exhaled, satisfied.
Mira Tang had been standing by Serena’s side, listening anxiously to the butler’s report but not daring to interrupt. At last, unable to hold back, she bit her lip and dropped to her knees at Serena’s feet with a thud.
"Miss, Jada—please, I beg you, please go see Jada. Her forehead was split open by the Bloodcloak Guard—a wound the size of a teacup, and the blood won’t stop. The doctor said if it doesn’t, Jada… Jada will…" Mira Tang pleaded as she kowtowed to Serena.
Everyone in Feng Manor knew Serena excelled at treating injuries. If Serena stepped in, Jada might be saved. But never mind how exhausted Serena was—the hierarchy was clear: servants who were hurt could expect the master to hire a doctor, and that was already more than generous. Who would dare ask the mistress herself to treat a servant?
Mira Tang knew her request was out of line, which was why she kept kowtowing, clinging to a sliver of hope as she begged Serena to go see Jada.