Industry and Handcrafted Medical Devices

Serena Feng had no idea how much the hidden guards were suffering. She heard the sounds of fighting every day, but never gave it much thought.

This was Ninth Royal Uncle's territory. If Nolan Dongling said there was no danger, then there absolutely wouldn't be any. Why worry so much? She had more important things to do: not only did she need to teach Simon Sun Western medicine, she also had to discuss with him how to effectively integrate traditional Chinese medicine with Western-style surgery.

This wasn't for the sake of human health or medical progress. She was doing it purely for her own apprentice. After all, the Smart Med‑Pack was a miraculous cheat—no one else had one. If she wanted Western surgery to become widespread, she had to solve this problem.

"I'm thinking, maybe I should start saving up to open a factory." Serena genuinely worried about the current state of medical equipment when Simon Sun mentioned the surgical scalpel used by the Master of Mystic Healer Valley.

But... Serena quickly dismissed this idea.

She was trained in medicine, not engineering. She had no idea how to make those machines for producing medical equipment. If this were the modern world, it would be easy—just use money and connections to buy the devices she needed. But here...

She could only shrug!

Even with piles of silver, she still couldn't buy what she needed.

Simon Sun might be a little slow, but that didn't mean he was clueless about the world. Hearing Serena worry about surgical equipment, he didn't naively say, "Master, wherever your devices come from, let's just go get them there."

He knew Serena had secrets, and those secrets couldn't be touched lightly. Instead, Simon Sun offered practical advice: big items were beyond them, but small ones were possible—like IV bottles, infusion and transfusion sets, and syringes. They couldn't mass-produce, but they could make small batches by hand.

Neither of them could make medical equipment themselves, but that didn't mean others couldn't. If they found someone skilled in metallurgy or someone who liked tinkering with odd things, maybe it could work.

Simon Sun's words made Serena's eyes light up. How could she forget about China's reputation as a land of ingenious knockoffs and handcraft powerhouses? China's frontline workers were absolutely the best in the world.

In the modern era, machines couldn't produce those ultra-precise screws, but Chinese workers could hand-make identical ones with zero deviation.

She'd heard her mentor tell a similar story: a domestic hospital bought advanced international medical equipment—not too expensive. After a while, a screw broke, making the data inaccurate. The hospital contacted the supplier to buy a replacement screw, but the seller demanded a sky-high price—one tiny screw cost a fifth of the whole machine, claiming it was already a 'best deal.'

A single screw cost tens of thousands. The hospital was furious and said they'd make their own replacement back home. The machine's agent arrogantly declared that with China's 'backward industry,' they wouldn't manage it in a hundred years.

The other side's words were cocky and infuriating, but not far from the truth. No matter how similar the screws looked, once installed, the machine just wouldn't calibrate properly—always off by a tiny bit.

It was a precision instrument—if a part was off by even a hair's breadth, it wouldn't work. Only then did the hospital realize why the equipment was so cheap: those people knew we couldn't make the parts ourselves, so they'd profit off us later by selling replacements.

The hospital had already bought the machine, but scrapping it over a single screw was heartbreaking. Yet spending tens of thousands for one screw hurt even more. Just as everyone was at their wits' end, someone mentioned an old craftsman who could hand-make screws with incredible precision—though he'd lost his job for not knowing how to operate modern machines.

With nothing to lose, the hospital approached the old craftsman. He took one look at the original and said he could make an identical screw, down to the tiniest detail.

It took him seven days and over a thousand adjustments, but he finally produced a screw that met top international standards, saving the hospital millions.

Thinking back to that story, Serena became even more convinced that Simon Sun's suggestion was workable. But where could they find such a person?

"Zuo An! That's right, we should find Zuo An. Isn't he a research fanatic? Maybe he really can pull it off." The moment Serena thought of this possibility, she got excited, rushed out of the operating room, and shouted into the courtyard, "Zuo An! Zuo An! Get out here, quick—I need you for something urgent!"

"Zuo An! Zuo An..."

The hidden guards saw Serena come out of the operating room early and got all worked up, thinking she'd finally remembered their master, Ninth Royal Uncle. Maybe they'd finally be free from their misery. But to their disappointment...

"Wah, Miss Feng comes out and immediately looks for another man. Won't the prince be so upset he coughs up blood?" one hidden guard whimpered pitifully.

The second hidden guard was just as weak: "I don't know if the prince will cough up blood, but I know we probably will."

Ah...

Looking up at the sky!

Zuo An's happiness was built on other people's misery. He'd been trailing Serena these past few days, bored out of his mind and thinking of sneaking off, but the hidden guards' tragic predicament amused him.

Standing on high ground, Zuo An gleefully enjoyed the hidden guards' miserable faces before finally sauntering out.

"You need something?" Zuo An asked coolly, arms folded over his sword, keeping more than three feet between himself and Serena.

Some women you could approach, but some you couldn't even get near. Seeing the hidden guards' recent misfortunes, Zuo An realized that anyone who got close to Serena was doomed.

Cherish your life—stay away from Serena. That was Zuo An's latest revelation, and he was determined to stick to it. After all, his little brother was still in her care, and he couldn't outsmart that scheming Ninth Royal Uncle.

"Of course I need something. Why else would I look for you? Come on, get inside." Serena was focused on her plan to produce Western medical equipment here—she didn't care what Zuo An was thinking. Seeing him hesitate, she stepped forward to pull him along.

But as soon as Serena moved, Zuo An nimbly stepped back three paces. His pale, handsome face was now dark with irritation: "Talk if you want, but don't grab me. I'm not planning to marry you."

Uh... Serena froze, a black line forming on her forehead. She didn't have time to explain—she only cared if Zuo An could make glass bottles, syringes, and scalpels. Nothing else mattered.

"Fine, I won't touch you. Young Master Zuo, could you please come inside for a moment? I need your help." Serena also stepped back, following Zuo An's lead—no touching, no grabbing.

"You need my help? With what?" Zuo An stepped forward, but stayed wary. Damn, he knew Serena's ways—helping her always meant blood, sweat, and tears. Sending Simon Sun to Mystic Healer Valley was proof enough...