Serena Feng wiped away her tears. She was still Serena Feng: proud yet restrained, bold yet cautious. Her eyes, washed clear by crying, shone even brighter—filled only with hope for the future, never regret or despair.
Serena had never regretted anything she’d done, nor would she ever show her weakness to outsiders.
Serena returned to her study and opened the small wooden box sent by Noble Consort Helena Hsieh. Inside was only a slip of paper. After reading it, Serena was silent for a long time.
Crushing the paper in her hand, Serena stared quietly at the ceiling. “Holden Cui… Third Prince, you really went all out, actually sending me someone from the Cui Clan. Do you all want me dead that badly?”
The Cui Clan—once the foremost house of the Former Dynasty, now withdrawn from the world. Even so, they’re not someone I, Serena Feng, could afford to offend. If I cure Holden Cui’s illness, fine. But if he dies under my hands, I’ll probably follow him soon after.
And Holden Cui’s illness has dragged on so long that, honestly, it’s easier for him to die than to live.
Should I treat him or not? Treating leukemia isn’t simple—a single misstep can trigger all kinds of complications. Holden Cui’s prognosis is grim. If I’m going to treat him, I’d have to arrange a bone marrow transplant as soon as possible. But I don’t even have an operating room—how am I supposed to perform a transplant?
But if I refuse… how could I live with myself as a doctor? This is about professional ethics. I can’t reject a patient just because of who they are. Serena Feng, don’t forget: no matter who Holden Cui is, right now he’s your patient—a person who’s entrusted his life to you. You can’t refuse to treat someone just because their status is too high.
But what about the treatment conditions? How do I create them? An operating room is possible, but a matched bone marrow donor… where would I find one? Why is it so hard just to save one patient?
Serena slumped over her desk, shoulders sagging, head drooping, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper.
Simon Sun heard from the maid that Serena Feng was feeling down and wanted to comfort her. But when he reached the study door, he hesitated, not wanting to disturb her, so he lingered outside.
Serena’s voice was soft; Simon caught fragments here and there—something about matching, donors—but the last line he heard clearly: 'Why is it so hard just to save one patient?' That, he understood.
Simon didn’t hesitate anymore. He knocked and entered Serena’s study. Although Serena had forced him to move in as his apprentice, she never acted superior around him. Simon respected her, but as she was younger than him, he couldn’t bring himself to act like a junior.
The two spoke as equals—discussing medicine, life, ideals. They talked about Holden Cui’s illness, and about his true identity.
Once Simon learned who Holden Cui really was, he understood Serena’s hesitation. Instead of urging her to be kind, he simply said, 'Master, whatever you decide, I’ll support you.'
Only then did Serena realize her apprentice had grown up.
A doctor can’t just be endlessly kind and soft-hearted—being too gentle only hurts yourself.
'If I give up on treating Holden Cui, would you think I’m cold-blooded?' Serena felt much better after talking pathology with Simon half the night.
As expected, only work could soothe her wounded heart.
'Not at all. My father always said, doctors are human, not gods. If you can’t cure someone, don’t waste precious medicine—there are plenty of people who need it. Besides, there’s more than one doctor in the world; patients can choose doctors, and doctors can choose patients. If you’re not confident you can cure someone, maybe another doctor can.' Simon said earnestly.
Serena nodded—those were exactly the sort of words Simon’s father, Sun Zhengdao, would say. Sun Zhengdao was no fool; his sudden disappearance must have been planned well in advance. She didn’t need to worry too much.
'Your father’s right, Simon. In the future, when you meet patients, save them if you can, but don’t force what can’t be done. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are beyond our control.' She never wanted Simon to become the kind of doctor who collapses at every sad case, or rushes to help just because someone is old or sick.
Protect yourself first; heal yourself before healing others, or the world.
When struggling, keep your own integrity; when successful, help the world.
…
After a whole night discussing cases with Simon—and picking up a few prescriptions for supporting leukemia patients—Serena felt much better. Seeing it was late, she prepared to return to her room. But as soon as she opened the door, she sensed something was wrong. Alarmed, she tried to back out, but it was too late.
'Miss Feng, if I were you, I’d quietly close the door.' A cold sword pressed against Serena’s neck. One wrong move, and her head would be separated from her body.
In this situation, what could Serena do? She obeyed, stiff-necked and afraid to move, carefully closing the door—cursing Dominic Zhai’s guards for being useless, letting an assassin slip in unnoticed.
'Who are you, and what do you want with me?' The intruder called her by name—he hadn’t come to the wrong door. He was here for her.
'Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is, I’m here to warn you: stay out of trouble. Some people are not for you to provoke, Miss Feng. Don’t ruin your whole life over a moment’s pride or defeat.' The visitor’s icy warning radiated clear intent to kill—Serena could feel it.
This man would show no mercy.
'What do you mean by that? I don’t understand—please enlighten me.' Serena forced herself to stay calm, hiding her hands behind her back as she quietly drew the handgun from her sleeve.
Even with a gun, Serena didn’t dare move. She figured if she so much as flicked off the safety, he’d kill her on the spot. She’d wait for now.
'Anyone who can attract the attention of all the elites across the Nine Provinces Realm must be clever, Miss Feng. I won’t say more. Just remember—Nine Provinces is vast, far bigger than you imagine. Don’t think just because you have protection in the Eastlyn Imperial Capital, you can do as you please.'
'Miss Feng, if I can slip into your boudoir without a trace tonight, I could just as easily spirit you away tomorrow. In this world, death is easy—and a fate worse than death is just as simple. If you want to avoid that, keep your head down and stay out of things beyond your reach.'
The man’s voice was chilling, the scent of death closing in. Serena wanted to move, but it was as if he could read her mind—he pressed the blade harder against her neck.
Serena heard a soft ‘snick’ as the sword sliced her skin, pressing deeper. Warm blood trickled down her neck.
Pain… Serena’s body flinched, her pupils contracting in terror. The fear of death nearly made her collapse. She knew the sword was far faster than her gun—if he wanted, he could cut her throat in an instant. So she gave in.
'Don’t worry—I won’t do anything reckless. I don’t care about winning or losing the contest.' Serena forced out the words, ignoring the pain in her neck.
She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted, but she understood: in the face of death, anything could be compromised…
She just wanted to know—who had she offended this time…