Heartflutter, Valentine’s Day Must Be Sweet

Serena Feng's boldness is now famous throughout the imperial capital. As an orphaned girl, she dares to challenge the Empress above and execute beggars below. Amidst swirling rumors, she grows rapidly and wins the favor of Eastlyn’s most honored Ninth Royal Uncle. Every move she makes is the talk of the city.

Whether it was escaping the Empress’s grasp or ordering the public execution of rioting beggars, each incident caused a huge stir. Many imperial physicians present knew of these events, but only by hearsay. Now, watching Serena Feng’s knife skills rivaling a death by a thousand cuts, they finally understood what true boldness meant.

"Miss, that's human flesh—can you not be so swift when you cut?"

"Miss, that's a blood vessel—could you slow down when you snip?"

"Miss, that's living tissue—when you reach in to fish out the vessels, could you not be so calm?"

"Miss..."

There’s nothing beautiful about trauma surgery. Serena Feng, long used to military camps, works with methods that are simple and brutal, focused only on achieving the best results as quickly as possible. Whether her hands are too bloody is never something she considers.

Blood-soaked bandages pile up, and the silver tray fills with rotten flesh. Anyone who didn’t know better might think Serena Feng was dismembering a corpse.

It’s truly gruesome!

Ugh... Some of the younger imperial physicians couldn’t help but gag. Prince Colin shot them a cold glare, scaring them into quickly covering their mouths.

Of the dozen or so imperial physicians present, only three specialized in treating trauma. The rest looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Still, they all knew their craft. Watching Serena Feng’s technique, it was clear she was extraordinary. Even though the sight made them queasy, they craned their necks for a better look and, when Prince Colin wasn’t paying attention, whispered their impressions to each other.

"If Miss Feng doesn’t suture that vessel she just drew out, there’ll be lingering problems in the future."

"Exactly. Miss Feng is so thorough—even the tiniest bit of rotten flesh stuck to the bone, she picks it out. Her eyesight is amazing."

"It’s not just Miss Feng’s eyesight—didn’t you see that little device she’s using to look? I bet it magnifies things. Remember when she carved characters onto grains of rice?"

"Good point, good point! That’s a fantastic tool—if only we could buy one." Some of the imperial physicians were already coveting Serena Feng’s microscope.

"She can see those tiny blood vessels and even stitch them—Miss Feng’s hands are truly skillful. I used to look down on women who only did needlework, but now I see that good needle skills can save lives." The white-bearded elder was full of emotion; from the look of him, he’d probably ask his wife or daughter to teach him needlework as soon as he got home.

Prince Colin kept mentally noting Serena Feng’s techniques, planning to share them with the military doctors back at camp. If her trauma methods spread through the army, far fewer soldiers would die of their wounds.

Prince Colin had no time to deal with the physicians, so their chatter only grew louder. Serena Feng focused entirely on Felix Fuller’s injured leg, oblivious to everything else—until sweat broke out on her forehead and she finally said, "Someone, help me wipe the sweat off my brow."

Her words worked like a spell—the roomful of physicians instantly fell silent. Prince Colin shot to his feet, and Felix Fuller’s dazed eyes suddenly cleared.

Everyone stirred, but not a single person stepped forward to wipe Serena Feng’s sweat. Seeing the droplets about to fall, Serena urged again.

"Alright." Several nearby physicians heard and hurried over, but one person was even quicker.

"Let me." Prince Colin strode forward, shooing away the physician who tried to beat him to it, and took out his embroidered handkerchief.

Serena Feng lifted her head at just the right moment, making it easy for Prince Colin to wipe her brow.

Her fair face was untouched by any powder, her eyes clear and bright, pupils inky and focused. Prince Colin felt his heart skip a beat.

He absentmindedly wiped Serena Feng’s sweat, then absentmindedly withdrew his hand. Prince Colin had no idea how he’d managed the gesture—he only knew that Serena lowered her head again to treat Felix Fuller’s wound, her focus so intense it was as if nothing else existed in the world.

For a split second, Prince Colin realized he was jealous—jealous of the wound that commanded all of Serena Feng’s attention. But he was even more jealous of Ninth Royal Uncle.

Prince Colin couldn’t help but wonder—if Serena Feng ever looked at him with that kind of focus, what would it feel like?

Just imagining it made Prince Colin’s heartbeat race, so fast he could barely control it.

How could this be happening?

Prince Colin panicked, quickly collecting himself and wanting to flee—put as much distance between himself and Serena Feng as possible. But when he looked up, he saw Felix Fuller gazing at Serena with an intense, focused look...

It was burning hot!

Felix Fuller...

Prince Colin looked at Felix Fuller, then at Serena Feng.

He admitted that Serena Feng’s seriousness was captivating. He admitted that for a moment, his heart had been moved. But his reason told him such feelings were forbidden—Serena belonged to Ninth Royal Uncle.

He could admire her, respect her, but he could never fall for her—otherwise, the only path left for him would be death.

Prince Zelda was a cautionary tale—a once-favored prince, ruined in an instant, with his mother’s clan wiped out by Ninth Royal Uncle. That was an enemy Colin could never afford to cross.

If Felix Fuller was simply grateful to Serena Feng for saving his life, that would be fine. But if he felt anything more, his fate would be even worse—Felix wasn’t a prince, and his own Ninth Uncle would show no mercy.

Prince Colin quickly reined in his thoughts and calmed his racing heart. He quietly stepped aside, wiping Serena Feng’s brow when needed, and did nothing more.

From childhood, Colin understood what it meant to know his place. As a prince without the backing of a maternal clan or his father’s favor, survival depended on strict self-restraint—and never reaching beyond his station.

Prince Colin stood there until nightfall. Only then did Serena Feng finally finish cleaning Felix Fuller’s wound—and by that time, Felix had already slipped into unconsciousness.

After tying off the wound and taping it up, Serena Feng—pale-faced and covered in blood—finally stood. The intense work had drained her; she could still push through, but she was truly exhausted.

She thumped her legs to restore feeling, then took a syringe from the medical kit, drew up the medicine, and injected Felix Fuller’s arm. She also started a glucose drip and placed anti-inflammatory and fever-reducing drugs on the side table, instructing the imperial physicians on Felix’s aftercare.

That was all she could do; the rest was up to Felix Fuller. Whether he lived or died was out of her hands—it was up to fate.

Seeing Serena Feng’s exhaustion, Prince Colin didn’t insist that she stay to care for Felix. He personally escorted her back to Feng Manor before returning to the palace to make his report.

As soon as she entered, the steward came forward and handed her a finely crafted card. "Miss, Young Master Su sent over a calling card."

"Young Master Su? Vincent Su?"

"Yes." The old steward nodded.

Serena Feng took the card, opened it, and smiled...

Midnight tomorrow—of course it had to be something that couldn’t see the light of day.