Blindfolded, Serena Feng walked through the suffocating, airless tunnel, her expression growing uglier by the minute. But she couldn’t say anything—she could only let Vincent Su drag her forward, seething with resentment.
I am the fish on the chopping block, others hold the knife. In a situation like this, all she could do was endure.
"Miss Feng, don’t worry. I won’t harm you. I’m only asking you to save someone. As long as you save this person, whatever fee you ask, the Su Clan will pay it."
Vincent Su held Serena Feng’s cool, smooth, and delicate fingers, unable to stop a ripple of emotion in his heart.
Serena’s hands were beautiful—cool, slender, soft and smooth, almost boneless to the touch. Yet they weren’t weak; the tension in her fingertips told Vincent Su these were not the hands of a pampered noblewoman who never touched spring water.
Serena Feng said nothing, her face dark. She let Vincent Su pull her along—who wouldn’t be angry, being dragged away in the middle of a good night’s sleep?
Besides, she’d repeatedly said she wasn’t a doctor, but Vincent Su simply refused to believe it.
And the warmth and sweat from his hand disgusted her even more. She hated her own hands feeling slick—hands like that couldn’t hold a scalpel. If Serena Feng couldn’t even hold a scalpel, was she still Serena Feng?
She absolutely hated anyone touching her hands, but under someone else’s roof, she had no choice but to bow her head.
"Miss Feng, I must ask you to keep this matter secret. You cannot tell anyone, or else…" Vincent Su reminded her again as they neared the secret chamber.