Serena Feng returned to her West District courtyard and, just as yesterday, closed her doors to visitors. No matter who came calling, she refused to see them. Serena repeatedly instructed Jada Tang and Mira Tang: unless the Emperor or a prince arrived in person, even if the sky fell, they were not to disturb her.
Those who didn’t know the truth thought Serena was quietly preparing for tomorrow’s contest. But Jada and Mira understood: their mistress wasn’t worried about the duel at all—she was just being lazy and sleeping in broad daylight behind closed doors.
Ahem... Sleeping in the middle of the day sounds a bit incriminating. In reality, it was more like mental exhaustion—she needed quiet rest. As for tomorrow’s calligraphy round, Serena wasn’t worried at all. She’d made some preparations, but whether they’d be useful wasn’t up to her. After all, going up against Wendy Summers in brush calligraphy was a guaranteed loss. Competing with her own weakness against someone else’s strength was something Serena had always been willing to do.
Serena slept straight through until nightfall, only to find—tragically—that her usual ability to fall asleep instantly had deserted her. Tonight, she was wide awake. Unable to sleep, she got dressed and went to her study to read by lamplight. Of course, she wasn’t reading the classics, but medical texts.
Lately, she’d been studying traditional medicine. With her background as a Western-trained doctor, learning TCM was easier and faster for her than most. While she wasn’t yet qualified as a practitioner, she could already diagnose minor ailments—it was just the prescriptions she hadn’t mastered yet.
Around midnight, Serena finally felt drowsy and decided to go to sleep. But as soon as she opened the door, she caught a faint whiff of blood in the air.
"Who’s there? Show yourself." Serena stood in the center of the doorway, instantly on guard.
There were guards posted outside the courtyard and she hadn’t heard any fighting. For someone to make it into the inner yard, they had to be formidable.
"It’s me. Don’t make a sound." Lance Quinn stepped out from the dead corner opposite the study, pressing his right hand to his lower left abdomen to keep blood from dripping.
His voice was weak, his breathing shallow. Clearly, he was seriously wounded.
"Lance? You’re hurt again?" Serena let out a breath of relief. Ever since she’d had guards posted, hardly anyone came seeking treatment in the middle of the night.
Although Lance was the most frequent midnight visitor, even Lyndaria’s Crown Prince Terrence had come once. Serena stayed cautious—if she ever fell into Prince Terrence’s hands again, she might keep her life, but not necessarily her purity. She hadn’t missed the way he looked at her.
In the darkness, Lance Quinn managed a bitter smile. "Yeah. Help me with the wound—I’ve got important matters tomorrow."
"Come into the study first." Serena didn’t ask how Lance had slipped past the guards. She opened the study door and motioned for him to enter on his own.
She’d promised that if Lance ever asked her for help, she’d do her best, but she never intended to meddle in his life—or pry into his affairs.
"Go rest on the low couch behind the screen. I’ll get supplies." Serena closed the study door and headed straight for Jada and Mira’s room.
Some things, it was time to let them know.
After Serena left, Lance took out the handgun he’d been carrying. He’d tried several times to give it back to her, but never found the right moment. Now, injured and knowing he’d be forced to rest for days, he decided this was the time—he’d leave it for Serena. However she interpreted it, that was up to her.
Lance slid the handgun under the low couch. He trusted Serena would understand what it meant.
Truth was, he was suffering this time because of Storm Cloud Bu. If Storm Cloud hadn’t failed in his duties, Lance wouldn’t have been injured at such a critical moment.
When news of Reid Yale’s disappearance leaked, Storm Cloud Bu’s holding site was discovered by Prince Damien of Southlyn, who sent a squad of dead-soldiers to rescue him. Storm Cloud, distracted by Bao’er, missed the guards’ distress signal. As Reid was about to be rescued, the guards had no choice but to send him a signal.
Storm Cloud rushed over, intercepted Reid, and tried to move him to a new location, only to be ambushed halfway by Crown Prince Terrence of Lyndaria. Reid was rescued, and Lance was seriously wounded.
Lance admired how Prince Terrence used Prince Damien’s rescue as cover, and also realized Southlyn was in serious internal trouble—otherwise Prince Damien wouldn’t have acted so rashly.
Of course, the one most at fault was still Storm Cloud Bu. One day, Storm Cloud would die on a woman’s belly—this time, Lance was determined to teach him a lesson.
Lance sprawled on the low couch, waiting for Serena to return. When footsteps approached, Lance instantly tensed—like a leopard, his entire body radiated a cold, lethal aura.
He heard three sets of footsteps. Two of them clearly had some martial training. Serena always bandaged him alone.
"Mira, Jada, wait outside for me." Serena seemed to know what Lance was worried about and called out from a distance.
"Yes, Miss." Mira and Jada replied respectfully. Serena had asked them to bring hot water and clean cloths, which meant she now considered them her own people. Still, even trusted servants couldn’t be privy to everything.
Serena entered carrying her medical kit. "The two outside are my maids. With them on guard, things will be safer. You can trust them."
Trust goes both ways. Since she was willing to give Jada and Mira a chance, she couldn’t keep pushing them away.
"Mm." Lance knew Serena was easygoing about small things, but never careless with matters of life and death. She was always cautious.
"Lie down and don’t move. I’ll bring in some water." Serena stepped out, took the supplies from Jada and Mira, then paused and instructed, "Jada, have the kitchen make a pot of chicken soup."
"Yes, Miss." Jada understood that Serena trusted them, but it was also their duty to mind their own business and never ask questions they shouldn’t.
"Mira, you’re in charge here. Without my order, no one comes in." The guards outside belonged to Prince Su’s estate; just because Serena had authority over them didn’t mean she could trust every one. With Mira on watch, she could block unnecessary trouble.
That was the benefit of having maids. In the past, Evan Zhou handled these things—she never had to worry.
Serena returned to the study, put down the supplies, carried in a lamp, and brought out several more from the corner, lighting each one.
The study was suddenly bright. Soon, the night patrol guards noticed and hurried over. Seeing Mira there, they relaxed, asked a few questions to confirm all was well, then left.
While cleaning Lance’s wound, Serena was grateful Mira was outside—otherwise, she’d have to go out and send people away herself. What a hassle.
Lance’s wound on his lower abdomen was over ten centimeters long, three or four wide, and about two centimeters deep. Any lower, and he’d have lost his manhood.
Because of the wound’s location, Serena cut away the fabric around it and gestured for Lance to take off his pants—otherwise, she’d have to cut everything, and he’d have nothing left to wear.
Lance froze, not moving an inch. Only now did he realize where he was wounded. When Serena wiped the blood away, she’d touched a place she shouldn’t have. If not for his self-control, he might have had an embarrassing reaction right in front of her. Now, with his pants off, if anything happened below, he’d have no way to hide it…
Author’s Note: I’m not a literary young lady—I’m wicked… Lance, just wait to embarrass yourself!