Serena only slept for half a day before getting up. She splashed cold water on her face to wake herself, shoved down a few mouthfuls of food, and hurried to the wounded soldiers' camp, ready to let Simon Sun swap out and rest.
"Your master really is something," the old doctor praised again.
"Mm. Master is a good person," Simon Sun replied dazedly. The moment he saw Serena, his energy seemed to drain away; his eyelids kept drooping, and after a quick greeting, he yawned his way out.
Simon Sun was truly exhausted.
"That kid needs toughening up. You spoil him too much," the old doctor said, sounding jealous. One day and night and he can't hold out—meanwhile, I've gone two days and nights without sleep and nobody feels sorry for me.
"He's still young. Can't let him ruin his health," Serena replied. As a doctor, how could she not know the damage high-intensity work does to the body? Balance between work and rest is key.
"Young? Judging by your age, you're not much older than him," the old doctor grumbled. She really did spoil her apprentice—he couldn't help but envy that little med-fool. Why hadn't he ever met such a normal master himself?
"Hmm... I think I'm actually younger than Simon," Serena muttered, quietly wiping away sweat. She'd never thought of herself as a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl, so it never occurred to her that all these late nights might ruin her own health.
Now it was the old doctor's turn to be speechless. "You're something else. You keep watch here; I'm going to get some rest too."
He was seriously dealt a blow—just a teenage girl and already a master doctor! How were these old guys supposed to compete?
People say the waves of the Yangtze push the old ahead, and the old die on the shore. But for him? He hadn’t even pushed the old wave out before he was flattened by an even newer wave.
Honestly, how’s anyone supposed to survive this?!
The old doctor clenched his fist in frustration, cursing the pair in his heart, wishing he’d never met these two monsters.
It’s just too demoralizing!
But as soon as he stepped outside and saw the exhausted soldiers lugging heavy gear up the mountain, the old doctor felt instantly better. Maybe he couldn’t compete with those two freaks, but at least he was lucky—he didn’t have to serve under the Regent Prince or suffer that kind of torment.
The old doctor was cured in an instant, mood soaring. He started thinking about writing a letter to his senior brother, just to brag a little and let him see what real genius looked like, so he’d stop boasting about his own disciples all the time.
His senior brother’s disciples were decent enough, sure, but compared to these two? Not even close.
......
There was never an end to work in the wounded soldiers’ camp. Doctors weren’t made of iron—even with so many patients waiting, they still needed rest.
To make sure everyone got enough rest and had the energy for intense rescue work, Serena Feng suggested the three of them set up shifts: split the twelve hours of the day into thirds, each shift with two on duty and one resting.
With this arrangement, everyone could get rest every day, and there would always be two doctors on duty in the wounded camp. As long as there wasn’t a battle, it was enough to handle things.
"At last, I can finally get some proper rest," the old doctor agreed immediately. He’d been the only useful doctor in the army for ages; if he hadn’t spent years running all over and taking care of his health, he’d have collapsed with the wounded long ago.
"Those medicine boys and half-baked doctors, let them rotate shifts too. Their skills aren’t much, but at least they’re hardworking," the old doctor added. He was confident in his own expertise, since he always took the toughest cases.
With Serena Feng and her two companions organizing things, the wounded camp got more and more orderly. The less seriously injured, under her direction, helped clean up and even learned basic bandaging.
"Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day; teach him to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime. Even learning simple ways to stop bleeding might save their lives on the battlefield." Serena and Simon Sun often took time to teach the wounded emergency care and let them help each other change dressings.
Most of the wounded couldn’t read or write, but they weren’t stupid—they knew Serena and Simon were helping them, so they worked extra hard to learn.
"Dr. Feng and Dr. Sun are saving our lives. If—if… if I’d met Dr. Feng sooner, Er Gouzi wouldn’t have died. The doctor said Er Gouzi bled out, just died from losing too much blood." The big man in his thirties, covered in blood but never seen to shed a tear, now had red eyes.
"San Zhu’s dad had his leg chopped off too. Blood shot three feet high, sprayed all over my face—I was stunned, just watched him die right in front of me."
......
They were supposed to be learning first aid, but it turned into a session of remembering fallen comrades. Talking about dead friends, these tough men just couldn’t hold back their tears.
People say women are made of water, but when men cry, their tears aren’t any less—and sometimes, they’re even more heartbreaking.
A man bleeds but doesn’t cry—unless his heart is truly broken.
Grief is contagious. Serena thought of the late Lan Jiuqing, and her nose stung as tears fell: Someone like him, gone just like that. She hadn’t even seen him one last time, hadn’t even a complete body to bury.
"Report!" A soldier’s sudden voice shattered the camp’s sorrow. Serena quickly wiped her tears away and raised her hand. "Come in."
"Dr. Feng." The soldier saluted. "The Regent Prince is injured. Please send a doctor to his tent immediately."
"Alright, I’ll go now." Serena grabbed her med kit and followed the soldier out.
She’d thought Ninth Royal Uncle was just playing the injury card again, but this time he was actually hurt. His whole left arm was purple, the flesh torn and bloody, and in the sunlight she could see a silvery glint.
Poisoned?
Serena’s expression changed; she hurried over, crouched beside Ninth Royal Uncle, and checked his injured arm.
"Were there assassins in the camp?" Serena glanced at the tent, which showed clear signs of a fight, and at Yu Wen Yuanhua, who looked deeply guilty. She already had a good idea of what had happened.
Serena shot Yu Wen Yuanhua a fierce glare. He knew he was in the wrong and meekly took it, just about to explain what happened when Ninth Royal Uncle spoke first: "Mm, sent by Night City. It’s nothing serious."
Ninth Royal Uncle’s eyes flicked toward Yu Wen Yuanhua, and the meaning was obvious...
Fine, he was just extra baggage. Yu Wen Yuanhua sensibly left and took the others with him, leaving only Ninth Royal Uncle’s personal guards and shadow sentinels.
The Regent Prince’s tent was a total mess after the assassination attempt—no way he could sleep there tonight. With no servants to straighten it up, surely Serena would have to take him in now.
The more Yu Wen Yuanhua thought about it, the more he felt this setup was genius—tailor-made for Ninth Royal Uncle. If the Regent Prince didn’t thank him, it’d be a crime.
Of course, this way, he’d also be repaying Ninth Royal Uncle for saving his life earlier. If not for the Regent Prince taking a hit for him, he’d be dead right now.
He didn’t have the Regent Prince’s freakish constitution—hit with a deadly poison and still acting like nothing happened...