Teasing, The First Time Lost Like This

Serena Feng never once considered what favors or rewards she might owe to Imperial Noble Consort Helena Hsieh. Her only resolve was to do everything in her power to save the Little Prince. As a doctor, her conscience simply would not allow her to stand by and watch a patient die—especially when that life could still be saved.

She could only do her best and leave the rest to fate. No matter how skilled she was, Serena Feng could not guarantee that the Little Prince would survive.

Helena Hsieh’s promises meant little to Serena. In her previous life, she’d heard countless vows of gratitude from patients’ families—none of them ever truly repaid her. At best, a few sent a thank-you card or made a phone call, but it was never anything real.

Serena Feng never expected gratitude from anyone, so she never felt disappointed when it didn’t come.

She asked someone to bring over a chair, then sat down beside the Little Prince, ready to keep vigil at his side.

The next twelve hours were absolutely critical. Serena had to monitor the Little Prince herself—there could be no room for error.

Children were far more fragile than adults; even the smallest detail mattered. Every half hour, Serena would check the Little Prince’s condition, watching as he slowly began to improve. Relief finally showed on her face.

For a doctor, there was no greater achievement than witnessing a patient’s gradual recovery.

At dusk, Helena Hsieh came by to visit. Compared to before, she looked much more composed. She asked about the Little Prince’s basic condition, but didn’t press for details or demand guarantees from Serena.

Helena stayed to chat softly with her son, trying to hide her reluctance to leave. She walked out, glancing back three times, clearly afraid that lingering would interfere with Serena’s treatment.

As night deepened, Serena Feng dismissed the palace staff keeping watch, sending them out to the outer hall. She stayed alone in the room with the Little Prince, too worried about his condition to feel the slightest bit tired.

Time crept by, minute after minute. Just as Serena thought the Little Prince’s condition had stabilized and begun to improve, he suddenly convulsed violently, foaming at the mouth.

A relapse!

Serena snapped to full alert, her mind razor-sharp. She dove for her Smart Med-Pack, pulling out drugs and equipment with frantic speed, fighting for every second to treat the Little Prince.

After emergency treatment, the Little Prince finally stopped convulsing—but now he was burning with fever.

Serena checked him thoroughly and found the toxins still lingering in his body. She gave him another one-eighth dose of the Mystic Valley Antidote, but he immediately vomited it up.

Clearing the poison was the top priority—otherwise, everything else was meaningless. Serena had no choice but to figure out a way to get the medicine into him.

This antidote pill couldn’t be given intravenously; she refused to gamble with the Little Prince’s life.

The Little Prince was vomiting so violently that Serena couldn’t manage alone. She was about to call for a palace maid to help when, turning around, she suddenly saw—

A living person, utterly silent, had appeared right in front of her—a face, suddenly magnified, staring her in the eyes.