After a flurry of activity—water, sour plums, everything—the group finally managed to get Serena Feng to swallow the medicine. This time, she didn’t throw it up again.
“Whew, I’m exhausted.” After all that fuss, Serena was drenched in sweat, slumping motionless against the headboard.
Being sick is honestly just miserable.
Everyone else let out a huge sigh of relief. Finally, she’d gotten the whole dose down in one go.
“What a shame, the other nine portions are all wasted.” Dr. Sun left with the empty bowl, his tone ambiguous—half regret, half relief.
“Nine portions? What do you mean?” Serena asked, confused.
Evan Zhou snorted and explained for her.
Turns out, Serena’s reaction to medicine was so extreme that every time they brewed her decoction, they made ten portions at once—and brought all ten in, yet she couldn’t even finish the volume of a single portion.
How embarrassing!
Serena’s face flushed even redder.
She was a doctor herself, yet she was afraid of taking medicine.
Catching the teasing looks from Vincent Su and Caleb Wang, Serena felt even more mortified. Those two men were just here for the spectacle. She yanked the quilt over her face and shouted, "Get out, get out, all of you—just get out!"
Hahaha...
Serena could hear Vincent and Caleb laughing loud and unrestrained just outside the bed curtains.
...
Serena’s illness had come on fiercely, but it faded just as quickly. By the next day, she was able to get out of bed, and by afternoon, she looked fully restored: her cheeks flushed, all signs of sickness gone.
Evan Zhou clicked his tongue in amazement, insisting that Serena’s recovery was extraordinary—far beyond what any normal person could manage.
Of course, it wasn’t just her body—her psychological resilience was just as remarkable.
He and Vincent Su both assumed that after Prince Rowan’s humiliation—losing face so badly in the capital—Serena would be depressed and brooding.
They took turns trying to comfort her, telling her not to dwell on it, but to their surprise...
Serena acted as if nothing had happened. When she woke up, she even mentioned kneeling at the city gate and being pelted with rotten vegetables by the crowd—calm and unruffled.
Faced with Evan and Vincent's bafflement, Serena just smiled softly and didn’t explain. Her life belonged to herself—no one else had to take responsibility for it.
As for her body? Only she knew the truth: even though her fever faded quickly, her vital energy was badly damaged. She’d need careful, long-term nourishment, or she’d end up with lingering problems.
Ironically, she’d acquired a rich person’s illness—but didn’t have a rich person’s life. As a doctor, overwork was normal; everything else could wait, but illness couldn’t, and neither could her patients.
Now that she was well, there was no way Serena could keep hiding at home. She wasn’t sure yet if William Wang’s eyes could be treated, but she knew she had to visit Hsieh Manor today to change Second Madam Hsieh’s dressings.
She also needed to discuss the timing and location for the surgery with Second Madam Hsieh.
The operation to unblock her fallopian tubes wasn’t exactly minor, but not major either. The success rate was far from guaranteed, and it likely couldn’t be completed in a single procedure. The surgical environment and post-op recovery were both crucial.
It all needed to be carefully arranged. In Eastlyn, Serena didn’t have the resources—but Second Madam Hsieh did.
A dying camel is still bigger than a horse; even though the Hsieh second branch wasn’t favored within the clan, it still had far more than Serena could muster right now. She had to rely on Second Madam to quietly set everything up, so things wouldn’t become a chaotic mess when the time came.
When Evan saw Serena lifting her medical box to go out, his face changed. He started searching for some excuse to keep her home.
Thinking fast, Evan Zhou clutched his chest wound. "Ah—so painful."
To make it convincing, Evan deliberately tugged at the injury and tore it open. In front of Serena, he could play little tricks, but pretending wound pain wouldn’t work unless it was real.
His wound really did split open. Four days ago, when he carried Serena back from the city gate, he’d already strained it; now he was just pouring oil on the fire.
Sure enough, Serena stopped dead in her tracks. "Evan, what’s wrong?"
"My wound really hurts—it feels like it’s split open," Evan said, face pale with pain.
"Let me see." Serena set her medical box down by her feet and reached out to pull open Evan’s clothes.
Evan froze, a little embarrassed, but Serena’s attention was entirely on his wound. Her gaze was focused—she didn’t notice anything amiss.
"It’s inflamed—sit down, quickly." Serena scolded herself: she wasn’t being a competent doctor, having forgotten Evan was also injured.
She forcibly pressed Evan into a chair. "Don’t move."
Serena warned him, then lifted her medical box onto the table. With a sharp click, she opened the clasp, laid out the tray, took out antiseptic solution, bandages, alcohol, forceps, and medical gloves—all in one smooth, orderly motion that inspired instant confidence.
"I’ll change your dressing."
Not giving Evan a chance to react, Serena turned to wash her hands. Once dry, she put on medical gloves—her movements smooth and swift, transforming her from a frail young lady into a crisp, capable military doctor.
Evan sat bare-chested in the chair; most of the bandages over his wound were stained with blood, and yellow pus mixed in.
He seemed completely numb, not making a sound—almost as if he hadn’t just complained of pain.
"It’ll be over soon." Serena didn’t think much—she simply did her duty and changed Evan’s dressing.
The wound was on his chest, and now it was festering. Serena had to clean out all the yellow pus, so she leaned in, bending over Evan.
Serena’s scent washed over him. Evan, flustered, shut his eyes; he could feel a stray lock of her hair brush his shoulder, making his whole body tense. Only when the cold tweezers touched his wound did he jolt and snap his eyes open.
But the moment he opened his eyes, he was mesmerized all over again.
They say a focused woman is the most beautiful—clearly true. In that moment, Serena seemed to glow, drawing every gaze—including Evan’s.
“Ah, that hurts…”
The pain of cleaning the wound snapped Evan back to reality; his eyes cleared, no longer dazed.
A woman like Serena could, at most, be a close confidant—or someone whose strength he might borrow. He couldn’t allow himself any other feelings.
"Don’t move. Bear it a little longer—it’ll be over soon." Serena’s gaze was stern, warning Evan not to act up.
Evan nodded repeatedly, all those stray thoughts vanishing. Now, his only concern was how to stop Serena from leaving and facing the storm of rumors outside.
Outside… the rumors were everywhere. People heaped every ugly, biting word they could onto Serena—the weak, disgraced woman.
Ever since Serena was humiliated at the city gate, crowds had gathered outside Feng Manor, waiting to see her fall, hoping for a glimpse of the infamous Serena Feng.
They judged her lower than a brothel girl, gossiped and set her price as if she were merchandise—just waiting to be sold.
While Serena was shut in, recovering, the gossip couldn’t reach her. But now that she was well and ready to go out, even if she didn’t care, Evan couldn’t bear to see her hurt again.
No matter what, this woman had saved him.
If Serena hadn’t understood before why Evan’s wound split open at just the right moment, she did now, seeing his worried, furrowed brow.
But she was destined to disappoint his good intentions. Words could wound, but she couldn’t lock herself away in Feng Manor because of slander, nor punish herself for other people’s mistakes.
Today, no matter what, she had to go out.
It was her responsibility—to herself, and to her patients.