At Year’s End, I Can Live Well on My Own
Serena had always kept a close eye on Victor Young's illness. She’d prepared diagnostic equipment in her little wooden clinic long ago, so when Victor arrived, she took him straight in without delay.
Victor had planned ahead—he wouldn’t have chosen to come in the morning otherwise. He was prepared to spend the whole day at Feng Manor, letting Serena run a complete check-up and treatment.
No lines, no registration, no fees, no pointless tests—just one hour and all the diagnostics were done. Serena sent Victor off to eat while she stayed in the clinic, waiting for the results to come out.
Victor only realized when he got to the dining hall that he was the only one there. He’d wanted to wait and eat with Serena, but Mira Tang told him, “Young Master Yun, when my lady’s busy, she forgets to eat or sleep. You’d better not wait for her—no one knows when she’ll come out.”
Besides, when Serena’s working, no one’s allowed to disturb her. She’s the absolute authority in Feng Manor—no one can tell her what to do, so everyone just lets her run herself ragged.
“Workaholic,” Victor muttered, shaking his head. He picked up his bowl and started eating. He hadn’t had a proper meal in months, so seeing the fresh vegetables at Feng Manor, he didn’t stand on ceremony—he cleaned his plate until not a scrap was left.
After his meal, he took a walk to digest and then napped in a guest room. By the time Victor felt rested, Serena came out of the clinic, her face stern as she tossed the test results in front of him. She said seriously, “Victor, how exactly have you been taking care of yourself? You know you have a brain condition, yet you still overthink and overwork. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
Victor’s brain scan showed a benign tumor, with an 80% chance of surgical success. But in his current state, surgery wasn’t an option—he needed time to recover first.
Serena had hand-copied the report herself, and Victor could understand it easily. It detailed his brain tumor and noted—success rate above eighty percent. He was overjoyed.
He remembered Holden Cui’s case—Serena had only given him a seventy percent chance. Victor’s odds were ten percent higher. That meant he had an even better shot at getting cured and living on.
“Serena, can my illness be cured?” Victor Young gripped the thin sheets of paper tighter and tighter, his knuckles white, fingers stiff with tension.
She could see his real worry wasn’t about the numbers. Seeing Victor’s anxious, excited face, Serena answered as a doctor—no cold water, just seriousness: “Yes, it can be cured. But before treatment, you need to rest, relax, and stop overusing your mind. Brilliance pushed too far only destroys itself.”
“It can be cured, it can be cured—thank God!” Victor was so overwhelmed he could barely speak straight. He couldn’t sit still, and before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face—laughing and crying all at once, repeating, “It can be cured.”
Serena didn’t comfort him. She just folded her arms and watched the highborn young master lose control—maybe her half-amused look made him snap back to himself quickly. Victor wiped his tears and apologized, “Sorry, Serena, I lost it. Don’t worry—the Young family’s crisis is over. I can finally rest for a while, I won’t drive myself so hard again.”
He calmed down on the outside, but his voice was still tight and urgent—far from his usual composed young master style. Even at the Young clan’s worst, Victor had never lost it like this before.
Serena didn’t tease him. She’d seen this reaction in plenty of critical patients. “It’s fine. But don’t celebrate just yet—wait till the surgery succeeds. Your Young family is famous for medicine, you’re better at body conditioning than I am. If possible, I want you to recuperate for half a month, then bring someone medically skilled and move into Feng Manor for pre- and post-op care.”
As she spoke, Serena jotted down precautions and the proposed surgery date on a sheet of paper.
For Victor, not working in the Young clan is impossible. The only way to keep him from overdoing it is to bring him here to Feng Manor.
As the Young family’s heir, Victor will always put the clan first unless he’s dead. Serena insisted he recuperate and then move into Feng Manor—otherwise, he’d never truly rest.
“That’s fine, but half a month from now will be New Year’s Day. If I come to Feng Manor then, will I disturb you?” He’d timed it with consideration for Serena.
But Victor had forgotten...
“The whole Feng Manor has only one master—me. Whether it’s New Year or not makes little difference to me. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I’d have forgotten: going out on the first day of the year is unlucky. So come as soon as possible after the seventh day of New Year.” Serena quickly changed the surgery schedule.
Once the details were set, Serena didn’t keep Victor. She reminded him several times to rest and keep his mood light, then had Mira Tang escort him out. The reason she didn’t go herself was simple—Victor’s mention of New Year had soured her mood.
From birth until now, every New Year she’d spent alone. Even New Year’s Eve dinner was a table for one, and she’d always had to prepare her own red envelope for the year’s end.
She thought Simon Sun would be with her this year, but disaster struck and he was driven out of the capital before the year’s end. Once again, she’d spend the festival alone.
Solitude, long endured, becomes habit. But when the holidays come, the loneliness doubles. She’d never known what it was like to celebrate New Year with family or a crowd.
Friends and classmates all had families to spend New Year with. Only Serena was always alone.
Victor’s casual concern reopened Serena’s old wound. She walked to the small ancestral hall in Feng Manor, sent the servants away, and knelt on the floor, silently facing the spirit tablets of General Feng and Lady Feng. She didn’t speak or cry, just stared, her eyes empty and unfocused.
It was nearly past dinnertime when Jada Tang and Mira Tang, worried that Serena hadn’t come out, risked her anger and entered. They found her kneeling alone, her thin figure isolated before the ancestral tablets, as if abandoned by the whole world.
Jada Tang and Mira Tang couldn’t hold back their sadness. They stepped forward to comfort her, saying, “Miss, please don’t grieve. The dead can’t return, but your parents in the underworld wouldn’t want you to be so lonely.”
“I’m not grieving—I just came to keep my parents company.” To Jada Tang and Mira Tang’s surprise, Serena wasn’t sobbing or broken. Hearing their voices, she rose calmly, showing not a trace of sadness.
She didn’t need anyone’s pity.
“Let’s go—I’m hungry.”
Jada Tang and Mira Tang, still dazed, led the way out, half wondering if they’d misunderstood what they saw.
They didn’t realize that as she crossed the threshold, Serena glanced back at the spirit tablets and, in her heart, spoke to them.
“None of you wanted me, but I, Serena Feng, can still live very well on my own!”
She’d learned to hide her feelings well; after so many years, she was used to it. She quickly pulled herself out of disappointment, ate dinner as usual, and was just about to bathe and rest when an urgent summons arrived from the palace—so urgent the messengers nearly broke down the door. Another storm was about to drag her back into the chaos, even as the year’s end approached.