Dead, Simon Sun Overwhelmed with Grief

Of course Simon Sun wouldn’t faint for no reason. In this world, there’s only one thing that could make him collapse from overwhelming grief—and that is...

The news of his father and mother’s death!

Simon Sun was practicing in the operating room as Serena Feng had instructed, when he suddenly noticed a wooden box in the room. He stared at it, puzzled, thinking he’d missed lunch and a servant had brought it for him. But when he opened it, what he saw was...

A severed head, frozen in ice.

Simon Sun jumped in fright, but when he saw clearly, he was utterly stunned. He collapsed onto the operating table with a thud, and only after a long time did he regain his senses—then wandered out in a daze.

A servant came up to ask, but he ignored them. When they tried to help him, he shook them off, staggering straight to Serena Feng. And there, he finally couldn’t hold on anymore—he completely broke down.

His father is dead. His father is dead!

Simon Sun couldn’t bear the blow and fainted.

Serena Feng was nearly driven mad with fury. She ordered the guards and covert agents to investigate how the box containing Sun Zhengdao’s head had ended up in Simon Sun’s hands.

But after searching for ages, they found nothing at all. Neither the guards nor the covert agents had seen anyone suspicious. As for Left Shore and Dorian Owen... those two always vanish exactly when they’re needed most.

Serena Feng was furious, but there was nothing she could do. When Sun Zhengdao and his wife suddenly disappeared, Serena had already suspected something terrible might have happened.

But as long as there was no news of their death, she could hold onto a sliver of hope. Now, there was no hope left. And someone had delivered the news of Simon Sun’s father’s death in the most direct and brutal way possible.

Serena Feng had no idea how to comfort Simon Sun. After sleeping for a full day and night, he woke up and lay motionless in bed—refusing to eat, drink, or speak.

In just one day, Simon Sun was completely changed—his eyes sunken, and streaks of white already appearing in his hair. Serena’s heart ached at the sight.

“Sixing, don’t scare your master.” Serena Feng choked up as she held Simon Sun’s hand, but he still didn’t respond.

“Sixing, the dead can’t come back. If Imperial Physician Sun saw you like this, he’d be heartbroken too.” In just one day, Sixing had tormented himself beyond recognition, and Serena’s heart was breaking for him.

How could this child be so heartbreakingly lovable?

If she ever found out who did this, she’d tear them to pieces to avenge Sixing.

“Miss, Young Master Sun hasn’t eaten for a whole day and night. The kitchen made chicken soup—please feed him a little, and have some yourself.” Jada Tang came in with two bowls of chicken soup, placing them on the small table beside Serena.

The rich aroma of chicken soup could easily tempt anyone’s appetite, but Serena Feng had no desire to eat at all. “Feed Young Master Sun first.”

Serena Feng got up and walked to the window, wondering what she could do to help Sixing recover from his father’s death.

“Miss, Young Master Sun refuses to drink. It all spilled out.” Jada Tang had tried everything to force-feed him, but Simon Sun just wouldn’t cooperate at all.

Serena Feng came over and looked at Simon Sun, who seemed barely alive. Her heart ached and she was angry. She snapped, “Pinch his jaw and pour it in.”

“Yes, Miss.” Jada Tang obeyed Serena’s order, propped Simon Sun up, pinched his jaw, and tried to pour the soup into his mouth.

“Cough, cough, cough...” Simon Sun still wouldn’t cooperate. The chicken soup that finally went in was all coughed back out, making Serena Feng so angry she almost hit someone.

“Sixing, what exactly do you want? How long are you going to keep tormenting yourself? If you think you can die like this, let me tell you—don’t even think about it. I’ll keep you alive on nutrient solutions if I have to.” Serena’s voice was loud, a mix of desperation and anger.

If this keeps up, Sixing’s body won’t be able to take it. Why does this child have to be so worrying? She really didn’t know what else to do.

“Miss...” Jada Tang was so frightened by Serena’s outburst that she didn’t dare move.

Serena Feng took a deep breath, sniffled, and said, “Clean Young Master Sun up, then bring in two more bowls. Keep pouring until he finishes them all.”

“Yes.” Jada Tang quickly called in the servant boys to change Simon Sun’s clothes and bedding. Throughout it all, Simon lay there like a puppet, not moving at all.

Serena Feng’s tears finally started falling, one after another.

If this keeps going, Sixing really will die. What should she do? How could she help Sixing come out of his grief?

Sixing had completely shut himself off. He couldn’t see their worry at all—he lived in his own world, lost in sorrow.

Serena Feng knew how important Sun Zhengdao was to Sixing, but she hadn’t expected that receiving news of his father’s death would make Sixing close himself off like this.

When it rains, it pours. Just as Serena Feng was at a loss for what to do, Mira Tang rushed in: “Miss, hurry! Someone from the palace is here—they say the little prince suddenly started foaming at the mouth. You must go to the palace immediately!”

A child not even half a year old foaming at the mouth—this was no ordinary illness. Serena Feng had to put away her sorrow and steel herself to go to the palace.

“Take good care of Young Master Sixing. Until I return, someone must stay with him at all times. If anything happens to him, you’ll all be buried with him.” Her words were so full of murderous intent that everyone was terrified and quickly agreed.

Serena Feng wiped her face, changed clothes, grabbed her medicine chest, and hurried off to the palace with the messenger.

The little prince’s condition was truly urgent. The carriage raced through every checkpoint; the driver just flashed a token and they passed unhindered. Serena marveled—so it was actually this easy to get into the palace.

She didn’t know how Helena Hsieh had pleaded with the Emperor, but the carriage drove straight into Radiant Hall. As soon as it stopped, a senior palace maid rushed out: “Miss Feng, you’re finally here—the little prince, the little prince is…” The maid was sobbing too hard to finish.

Serena Feng didn’t have time to waste on the palace maid. She shook off the maid’s hand and rushed into Radiant Hall—only to be startled by what she saw.

The Emperor and Empress were actually sitting there.

Serena Feng was anxious but didn’t dare act too boldly. She stopped and bowed to the Emperor and Empress, but before she could kneel, the Emperor impatiently interrupted: “Enough with the formalities—go see how the Eighth Prince is doing!”

Serena Feng was taken aback.

Since when did the Emperor care so much about the little prince, even calling him by his princely rank?

She didn’t understand, but Serena Feng didn’t dare ask. She obediently carried her medicine chest inside. As soon as she entered, Helena Hsieh rushed over and fell to her knees at Serena’s feet: “Qingchen, I beg you, please save my son!”

Helena Hsieh had none of her usual dignity—she was like a madwoman, hairpins askew, tear-streaked, on the verge of collapse.

“Don’t panic. Let me take a look first.” Serena Feng’s face was serious; from the looks of it, the little prince was in bad shape.

Inside, seven or eight imperial physicians were crowded around the little prince. He wasn’t even crying, and the doctors were sweating in panic. When Serena Feng arrived, they acted as if a savior had come, quickly making way for her.

Just then, the physician closest to the little prince suddenly shouted, “This is bad—something’s wrong with the little prince!”