Unless I Drive You to Premature Labor You Won’t Be Satisfied

When the imperial physicians entered, they saw Prince Nolan—his face etched with worry but forcing himself to stay calm—and Serena Feng, who by rights should have been helpless and afraid, yet sat there quietly, tears streaming down but her expression composed.

"Your Grace, you must not grieve now. Tears will harm your eyes." The imperial physician hurriedly bowed to Prince Nolan, then stepped forward under immense pressure to examine Serena—only to be refused: "I know. You all may leave. I’m fine."

Serena obediently wiped the tears from her face, listening to the physician’s advice and no longer crying.

"How can you say you’re fine? Didn’t you say your stomach hurt?" Prince Nolan shot the physician a glare so fierce the man nearly collapsed. The oldest imperial doctor, voice trembling, managed: "Your Grace and the child are both safe. Please, Your Majesty, don’t worry. The pain is temporary—medicine will help."

He was a doctor, not a miracle worker—he couldn’t simply declare the pain gone and make Serena feel better.

"She didn’t have a premature birth?" Prince Nolan frowned. The physicians were dumbfounded: "Premature birth? Who said Your Grace gave birth early?"

At least, none of them had diagnosed it. Besides, if Your Grace truly had a premature birth, even the Emperor wouldn’t be allowed in.

The imperial physicians quietly bowed their heads, thinking to themselves: Even an emperor can lose composure when worried.

Now Prince Nolan got it. The truth finally hit him.

The shadow guards had reported false military news.

"I understand. You may withdraw." Prince Nolan’s face turned cold. The imperial physicians meekly obeyed, but the elderly physician who had spoken up felt uneasy and cautiously reminded him, "Your Majesty, this pregnancy is dangerous. Please do not let Your Grace be saddened or overtaxed again." If it really led to premature labor, or if the seven-month-old child was lost, they would all suffer.

"I understand," Prince Nolan replied awkwardly.

The imperial physicians felt it best not to linger and quickly departed, leaving Prince Nolan and Serena Feng alone in the room, silent and facing each other...

They stared at each other in silence. In the end, it was still Prince Nolan—the most patient—who gave in first.

"Serena..." Prince Nolan finally spoke, explaining his loss of composure: "In the palace, when I heard a report from the shadow guards that you’d gone into premature labor, I was frantic. I wished I could have taken the pain for you."

"You heard the physicians. You can rest assured." Serena replied while gently cradling her belly.

She wasn’t angry—really, she wasn’t. Getting angry at Prince Nolan, this high-IQ, low-EQ man, was pointless.

"Serena, I was only worried about you." Prince Nolan stepped forward, once again crouching beside Serena’s bed. "When I heard you’d gone into premature labor, I panicked—I couldn’t think straight."

"Panicked?" Serena let out a cold laugh and turned her head to look at him. "Do you know why my stomach hurts?"

"I don’t know." It had all happened so fast—Prince Nolan hadn’t had time to ask.

"General Warren Yu said you plan to sail out in ten days to attack Ghost Hall." She’d been quietly worrying about this for days, but after hearing Warren Yu’s confirmation today, she could no longer hold it in—all her fear and anxiety came rushing out.

If not for that, she wouldn’t have suffered uterine distress.

"You’re worried about me, aren’t you?" Prince Nolan’s eyes flashed.

"What, am I supposed to just watch you march off to your death and feel nothing?" Serena took a deep breath, forcing down the stabbing pain in her abdomen.

She really was in pain—so much pain...

"Serena, I’m not going to die. I’ll bring back the Ghost King’s head myself." Prince Nolan squeezed her hand, his voice fierce with promise. "Wait for me—I’ll come back and marry you."

"Here we go again..." Serena yanked her hand away. "Just go. I don’t want to talk to you." Why bother? Arguing with him was pointless.

"If you don’t like it, I’ll stop." Remembering the physicians’ warnings, Prince Nolan could only back down. "Don’t get upset—your health comes first."

"My health comes first? And whose fault is that?" If not for Prince Nolan, she wouldn’t be worrying herself sick during pregnancy.

"It’s me. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry." Prince Nolan admitted quickly, following Serena’s words—but compared to his apology in Mystic Healer Valley, this felt far less sincere.

How could anyone not be angry at this?

Serena took deep, steadying breaths... It took her a long time to force down her rage and helplessness.

"I’m tired." Serena closed her eyes, turned away, and ignored Prince Nolan: "Just go." Go far away—leave for the sea tomorrow, attack Ghost Hall, and never come back...

Thinking of that, Serena couldn’t help feeling bitter.

If Prince Nolan went to sea now, he wouldn’t be in the Capital when she gave birth. Was wiping out Ghost Hall really more important than being there for their child?

She had no parents, no family—she was all alone. If something went wrong during labor, who would take charge?

"Serena..."

"Stop calling my name—I don’t want to hear it!" Serena grabbed the pillow and hurled it straight at Prince Nolan, her voice raw with fury: "Prince Nolan, what do you want from me? Will you only be satisfied if you push me into premature labor?"

"Serena, I—" Prince Nolan, in all his years, had never been hit with a pillow before. He was so stunned he just stood there, taking the blow head-on.

Luckily for him, Serena’s pillow was stuffed with herbs, not jade or stone. Otherwise, Prince Nolan might have been bloodied right in his wife’s bedchamber.

To bleed in the bedchamber—if word got out, it would truly disgrace Prince Nolan.

Thud... The pillow hit the floor and rolled a few times at Prince Nolan’s feet. He stared at Serena, stunned; Serena herself froze, glancing at Nolan, then the pillow, and smacked her forehead in frustration.

God, what was she even doing?

"Sorry, I didn’t mean it." Serena was mortified. She’d never lost control like this before—not even when she first woke up in Mystic Healer Valley had she thrown or smashed things to vent her feelings.

"It’s... it’s fine." Prince Nolan suddenly burst out laughing. Seeing Serena bury her head in shame, he only smiled more, bent down, picked up the pillow, and walked back to her bedside.

"Serena, if you’re still upset, you can throw it at me again." He set the pillow beside her, his heart warm for the first time in ages.

How long had it been since he’d seen Serena act so willful?

Only now did he realize how much he missed the Serena who used to storm into Ninth Prince Manor, kick open his study door, and shout, "Prince Nolan, I’m not happy!"

He was the one who snuffed out that wild, dazzling, fearless Serena—the woman who could light up a room just by walking in. He broke her. Now all that’s left is a doll with empty eyes.

He regretted it. He knew he was wrong.

Serena was nothing like those other women. She always knew exactly what she wanted, never lost herself. To outsiders, Prince Nolan’s relentless pursuit looked like love, but to Serena, it was just a cage—one she could never escape.

"Serena, I was wrong. From now on... I’ll never force you again. Anything you dislike, you never have to do." Prince Nolan bent down and kissed the ends of Serena’s hair...

From now on, I’ll learn how to love you—rather than just taking and demanding.