Refusal, I Am Not Made to Be a Man’s Mistress

"A consort?"

What, do I look like someone born to be the other woman?

Serena Feng stood by the bedside, looking down at Adrian Dongling from above.

There wasn’t a trace of affection in Adrian’s eyes; taking her as a concubine was just a favor, or maybe a way to rope her in.

Standing while he lay, the difference in strength was obvious. Serena almost seemed to be pressing Adrian down, but sensing the shift, she quickly reined herself in and calmly refused: "Prince Rowan, I won't be anyone's concubine."

"Not a concubine? What, you think you could be Princess-Consort of Luo?" Prince Rowan retorted, clearly annoyed.

Such an ungrateful woman.

"I wouldn’t dare dream so high," Serena replied, turning away to set down her syringe and picking up a pair of tweezers to clean out the broken threads from Adrian’s wound.

"As long as you know," Adrian said coldly. "With your status, you’re not even qualified to be a side consort." Side consorts were officially registered, with limited slots and a rank just below the principal consort. If he ever ascended the throne, Serena could, at best, be promoted to a palace consort.

"I know, so I wouldn’t dare reach so high. Your Highness, let me clean your wound—I need to focus." Serena fell silent and got to work.

Adrian Dongling ran into a wall—Serena’s refusal stung, but there was nothing he could say.

Should he keep pushing Serena to agree?

That would be humiliating for Prince Rowan.

Prince Rowan fumed in silence, but Serena didn't care at all.

Adrian had only brought it up on a whim. Even if she agreed, the Empress would never allow it.

Serena leaned over the bed, the light dim. After picking out several broken threads, her eyes ached, so she shifted to sit beside Adrian.

Adrian was about to scold Serena for her lack of manners, but the words died on his lips when he saw her focused, meticulous expression. He just stared at her...

Maybe it was the anesthesia, maybe it was the effect of her beauty—Serena cleaned Adrian’s wound so thoroughly, he barely noticed.

Adrian seemed almost entranced, his eyes fixed on Serena as if nothing else existed.

Serena had planned to stay alert around Adrian, but once she got to work, all her attention went to easing his pain—there was no room for grudges or schemes.

She cleaned the wound, stitched it up, applied medicine—all without any attempt to hide her technique from Adrian. Too bad he didn’t notice a thing.

After another half hour, Serena had finished re-bandaging Adrian’s leg. She hesitated, debating whether to leave him some anti-inflammatory medicine, but decided against it—traditional doctors were better at that, and she didn’t need to meddle.

"Your Highness, the wound is dressed. In the next few days, be careful not to tear it open again, avoid fishy, spicy, or greasy foods, keep the wound dry, and I’ll come every three days to change your medicine. Things might be a little inconvenient, so please bear with it…"

Doctors just have a habit of nagging. Whether Adrian listened or not, Serena went through every detail.

Normally, Adrian would have cut her off impatiently. But today, for some reason, hearing Serena’s careful reminders warmed his heart.

No one had ever cared about these things for him. No one had ever worried about the little details.

His Empress mother only ever said, "Son, you have to work hard and win your father’s favor. That’s the only way to claim the throne."

"Son, handle your duties well and outshine the Crown Prince. You’re the one who deserves the throne."

"Son, as long as you sit on the throne, you’ll be the most powerful man in the world. You’ll have anything you want."

And he’d always treated that throne as his only goal.

He’d always thought he didn’t need any of that, but today he finally understood: having someone genuinely care, even just in small ways, felt unexpectedly good.

For a moment, he forgot all about Princess Yara Valen—the noble, dazzling woman who’d once moved his heart.

All he remembered was Serena Feng, the woman who brought him warmth and a taste of ordinary happiness.

Serena wasn’t caught up in all these thoughts. She finished giving instructions, packed up her things, and left.

Adrian wanted to call her back but couldn’t think of a reason. He could only watch as Serena walked away, consoling himself:

It’s fine—she’ll be back in three days to change the dressings.

He knew Serena wasn’t suited for him, but he couldn’t let go of this tender moment—the kind of warmth only ordinary people ever get to feel.

Watching Serena’s departing figure, Adrian gripped his left wrist, his thumb rubbing over the tiny wound as he calculated the odds of making her his side-consort.

He already had one principal consort and three side-consort seats; giving one to Serena to indulge his new desire didn’t seem so hard.

Adrian closed his eyes, thinking through the obstacles to marrying Serena as a side-consort—and how he might overcome them.

As for Serena’s refusal, Adrian didn’t care at all.

If he decided to take her as a consort, Serena would have no choice but to marry.

...

Serena returned to Feng Manor unharmed. General Warren Yu and Evan Zhou didn’t ask about her encounter at Prince Rowan’s residence—they just happily suggested a big meal to celebrate, and Serena agreed.

Warren somehow produced a jar of wine and insisted Serena drink with him.

Serena couldn’t refuse and accompanied him.

Fortunately, Serena could hold her liquor; Warren got drunk, but Serena remained clear-headed.

It must be a doctor’s habit—never getting drunk, just in case there’s an emergency.

Drunk, Warren became like a child, holding onto Serena and talking endlessly about how hard it is to lead troops and how heavy the burden of the Yu family is.

The civil officials in the capital only know how to wield pens, making things hard for the army. His soldiers go hungry, poorly clothed, with only thin coats and watery porridge in winter.

Wounded soldiers on the battlefield don’t get timely treatment, and disabled veterans aren’t properly compensated.

"Serena, you tell me, what is this? They live in luxury in the capital while we risk our lives defending the realm. In the end, we shed blood and tears for Eastlyn’s peace but get no honor, not even basic security." Warren burst into tears.

"Serena, this time I thought I’d be awarded a title. With it, I could fight for more money for my soldiers, so their sacrifices would be rewarded. But what happened?"

"The Emperor suspects me, traps me in the capital, forbids me from commanding troops—he’s afraid I’ll become too powerful and threaten his throne."

"Ha… Serena, what is this? The Emperor doesn’t care about wounded soldiers but worries I’ll rebel."

"General Yu, don’t say such things," Serena said, startled. She signaled Evan Zhou to help silence Warren.

There’s no freedom of speech here; saying things like that could get Warren killed a hundred times over.