It’s rescue, not a cure. Prince Titus of Lyndaria is a clever man—he knows his own situation all too well.
Serena Feng’s expression stiffened—she’d let her personal feelings interfere with her work. Ignoring Ninth Royal Uncle, she turned to Prince Titus and said calmly, "Second Prince, the muscle necrosis in your left leg is severe. There’s no way to restore it. Returning to normal is impossible…"
"I understand…" Prince Titus had still held onto a shred of hope, but as soon as Serena Feng spoke, his smile vanished. He interrupted her before she could finish.
"Second Prince, please let me finish." Serena Feng disliked when patients acted resigned but couldn’t accept reality.
"Oh, go on…" Prince Titus replied listlessly. If his leg couldn’t be healed, what was there left to hear?
Serena Feng didn’t mind. She continued in a calm voice, "Although I can’t make your dead muscle regrow, I can help you walk like a normal person."
"What? Serena Feng, what did you say?" Her words were calm, but to Prince Titus, they struck like thunder on a clear day. Excited, he tried to stand from his chair, but his right leg, unused for so long, buckled and he fell forward.
"Careful." Serena Feng seemed to have expected it. As Prince Titus collapsed, she stepped forward and caught him, thinking: This Second Prince is even more agitated than when he learned his leg was crippled by sabotage.
Still, Serena Feng could understand Prince Titus’s longing to be normal again. On the battlefield, many soldiers are forced to retire due to disabling injuries. More than most doctors, she knows how much these people yearn for a normal life.
Disability can crush a person’s spirit. Hearing he could walk like a normal person again, Prince Titus’s excitement was understandable.
Although Prince Titus of Lyndaria was thin and frail, he was still a grown man. His full weight bore down on Serena Feng, and even though she was prepared, she staggered several steps backward.
Just as Serena Feng braced herself to support him, the weight suddenly vanished. She didn’t have to look to know that Ninth Royal Uncle had caught him—after all, there were only three people in the room.
Serena Feng breathed a sigh of relief, only to meet Nolan’s reproachful gaze. She smiled unconcernedly—as a doctor, she was less strict about male-female boundaries, and besides, nothing improper had happened between her and Prince Titus.
Ninth Royal Uncle wouldn’t scold Serena Feng in front of others. He turned to Prince Titus: "Titus." His voice was quiet, but strangely calming—especially for Prince Titus.
"Sorry, I lost control." Aristocrats are aristocrats—even though Prince Titus clearly suffered from depression, he recovered faster than most.
Serena Feng knew Prince Titus was suppressing his true feelings. Watching him, she suddenly felt sorry for royals—they can't even have real emotions, and even if they do, they can't show them.
Just like Nolan—always wearing a cold face, as if he never had any emotions. But Serena Feng knew that everyone feels joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. Nolan had them too, just buried so deep that others got used to it—and so did he.
"It's fine, I understand. If the Second Prince has calmed down, let's talk and see if you can accept my treatment plan." Serena Feng looked composed, as if nothing had happened.
Seeing this, Prince Titus let go of his embarrassment. His fondness for Serena Feng grew rapidly—her unflappable calm was truly admirable.
Prince Titus smiled, signaling Serena Feng to continue. Then, thinking of how she addressed him, he tried to close the distance: "Miss Feng, if you don't mind, just call me Titus."
Most people, hearing a prince say this, would agree without hesitation. But Serena Feng was different: "No, I feel more comfortable calling you Second Prince."
She had no interest in befriending Prince Titus; doctor and patient was enough. Though disappointed, Titus didn't press further.
Nolan, on the other hand, was quite satisfied. He thought Serena Feng was subtly explaining that her earlier embrace with Prince Titus was an accident, and knowing he was displeased, she deliberately kept her distance.
It was just a beautiful misunderstanding.
"Second Prince, your left leg is necrotic. I recommend removing the dead tissue and then performing a limb transfer." Serena Feng spoke as clearly as possible.
"Limb transfer? Is this the same as the Valley Master's limb-grafting technique? Can you really do it?" Prince Titus knew this was his only hope. The thought of having someone else's limb attached repulsed him, but compared to walking normally, he could overcome that.
"Yes, it's limb transfer, but my method differs from the Valley Master's." Serena Feng had met the Valley Master and knew he was a medical eccentric.
Serena Feng deeply respected that old man. In her eyes, the Valley Master was a medical genius—though genius and madness are separated by a thin line, depending on how the world sees him.
Besides, the world believes Serena Feng's skills come from Divine Healer Valley, and since no one from the Valley has denied it, they've tacitly accepted her. She has no objection to that.
"What's different?" Prince Titus tried to keep his excitement in check, asking in a calm voice—but his clenched fists and sweaty palms betrayed his true feelings.
With recovery in sight, how could he not be excited? He wouldn't be human otherwise.
Of course Serena Feng noticed the patient's changes. But as a good doctor, she understood her patients' feelings. If he didn't want her to know how nervous and hopeful he was, she'd pretend not to notice.
Feeling empty-handed, Serena Feng turned to her medical kit, pulled out a charcoal pencil and writing board, and began writing medical orders. "Second Prince, my limb-transfer surgery won't use someone else's limb—I'll make you a custom prosthetic."
"Prosthetic limb? What's that?" Not only Prince Titus, but also Nolan was curious. If it could be mass-produced, disabled soldiers would have hope.
Serena Feng seemed to anticipate their thoughts and explained the complexity early: "A prosthetic limb is made of special materials to replace lost limb function. Its creation and fitting are complicated. I can make one, but my energy and materials are limited."
It wasn't that Serena Feng was unwilling—it's just that...
Her Smart Med-Pack contained only a few prosthetic limbs, and there were so many disabled people in this world.
Even in the modern era, Serena Feng couldn't give every disabled person a prosthetic limb. And prosthetics came in grades—the plan she'd made for Prince Titus used the latest military technology.
In the face of death, everyone is equal. But when it comes to expensive medical bills, people are instantly divided into ranks. Serena Feng was a doctor, not a savior—don't expect her to risk everything to save everyone. That would make her a fool, not Serena Feng.
Hospitals see patients forced to stop treatment and await death because they can't pay. She could help one, maybe ten—but not everyone.
Over time, everyone becomes numb. Serena Feng couldn't give every patient timely, effective treatment. All she could do was use her best skills to save those in her care—the rest were beyond her reach. She wasn't God.