CMWKSD -Chapter 124 Successful Surgery

Emperor Fengyuan listened silently as Cen Yuanshi and the other imperial physicians spoke, indignantly recounting the reckless surgery performed by Jiu Yue.

Each word was like a nail, pinning Jiu Yue to the accusation of being a quack. It was almost as if they were publicly declaring that Jiu Yue had treated human life with utter disregard.

The emperor slightly furrowed his brows but felt an inexplicable irritation welling inside him.

“Enough!” Emperor Fengyuan slammed the memorial in front of him.

Cen Yuanshi and the others quickly fell silent and knelt, bowing low. “Your Majesty, forgive us!”

Emperor Fengyuan let out a soft snort. Cen Yuanshi had been in his position for decades, unable to accept anything new—let alone such an audacious method of treatment.

But if something remains unchanged for a long time, without adaptation or reform, is that really good or bad?

Just as with the countless decrees he issued each year—many contradicted those of the previous emperor or even their ancestors. Yet humans, objects, and lands never adapted; without innovation, nothing truly continues.

Medicine should be the same. Cen Yuanshi had been an imperial physician for decades—but so what?

Emperor Fengyuan’s body continued to deteriorate day by day. Barring accidents, by next year or at the latest the year after, he would follow the same path as the previous emperor—retiring, spending the rest of his days waiting for death, like his little imperial uncle.

His little uncle was only three years older than him; by the second half of the year, he would likely already be bedridden, unconscious.

“You may leave now.”

Cen Yuanshi, sweating profusely, withdrew.

Emperor Fengyuan merely gave a heavy glance, then picked up the memorial, though his cinnabar pen lingered, hesitant to touch the paper.

“Li Feng, tell me—truly, there’s no way at all?”

Li, the old steward who had served Emperor Fengyuan since childhood, understood immediately what the emperor meant. Emperor Fengyuan had never sought immortality or divination; the more he read and understood, the more absurd such illusions seemed.

Throughout history, emperors sought immortality, but Emperor Fengyuan never did. If it worked, previous rulers of the Qi dynasty would not have died before forty-five.

Yet counting the days he could still cling to life was unbearable, like watching a line approaching ever closer, helpless. Humans fear the unknown, but even the known can be terrifying.

Li Feng felt a lump in his throat and nearly wept. “Your Majesty, your fortune is boundless—surely there must be a way.”

But after hearing Cen Yuanshi’s account, even he accepted that no further remedies existed. Over the years, they had sought countless physicians, both in the palace and among the common folk, yet the emperor’s body continued to decline.

…

After the imperial physicians left, Jiu Yue entered the residence through the back gate with Ji Yiqing and Ji Chaomian.

They were led by servants to Shen Zongsheng.

At the bedside, Madam Shen and Eldest Sister-in-law Shen were all waiting.

After more than a month under Jiu Yue’s care, Madam Shen was already fully capable of managing household affairs. With hope in her heart, her spirit and energy had changed, and she could now be present to see Shen Zongsheng.

The effects of the anesthetic were fading, and it was time to see how he would awaken. Previously, Shen Zongsheng had no sensation in his legs. Now, all they could do was wait and see if he felt pain.

Ji Yiqing was anxious, while Ji Chaomian practically ran to keep up.

When they finally saw Jiu Yue sitting in a chair, happily eating, Ji Yiqing breathed a sigh of relief. “Jiu Yue!”

Jiu Yue looked up, still chewing, cheeks puffed out adorably.

Ji Yiqing couldn’t help but smile. “Why are you only eating now?”

Jiu Yue swallowed everything at once. “Just finished the surgery.”

Ji Yiqing felt a pang of sympathy—he had been kept updated by the servants. The surgery had lasted two full hours. No wonder it was so late.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Jiu Yue chuckled helplessly and rolled her eyes. “Not hard—just unlucky!”

Her words made Ji Chaomian, serving as background company, laugh quietly. His sister-in-law could be quite amusing.

Meanwhile, Shen Zongsheng on the bed frowned and groaned.

Madam Shen, wiping her tears, reached for his hand but hesitated, fearing the IV needle. She didn’t know what to do and stammered, “Zongsheng…”

Hearing her, Jiu Yue quickly instructed, “Don’t move your leg. Shen Zongnian, if he tries, hold him steady.”

“Oh, right.” Shen Zongnian stood by the bed, pressing only above the knee.

Jiu Yue hastily took a few more bites, seven-tenths full, and the observation room became crowded.

Shen Zongsheng opened his eyes, groaning, and saw his tearful father and mother. “Father… Mother…”

His father bent over. “How do you feel?”

He tried to move his leg, but it was firmly held. “It hurts…”

Jiu Yue leaned over, and Madam Shen and Shen’s father quickly stepped aside.

“Where does it hurt?” Jiu Yue asked, pulling back the thin blanket, while Shen Zongnian pressed down on the thighs.

Shen Zongsheng felt carefully. Moments later, his eyes widened in disbelief, shining with emotion.

“My thighs hurt, my calves hurt, my knees hurt—it hurts so much…”

Tears streamed down his face.

Madam Shen panicked. “Doctor Jiu Yue, is it too painful? He’s crying from pain—he’s never cried like this.”

Jiu Yue knew it hurt, but didn’t expect him to cry.

“Alright, have them bring the painkillers—I had them prepared early this morning.”

Shen Zongsheng grabbed his mother’s hand. “No need. I don’t need painkillers. I’m crying from happiness, from being happy.”

Madam Shen wiped her tears. “What are you talking about?”

He wanted to touch his legs but saw the IV and obediently put his hand down.

“Father, mother, I haven’t known what it’s like to feel my legs hurt for a very long time.”

Those few words brought tears to Madam Shen and Eldest Sister-in-law Shen.

Jiu Yue couldn’t help but feel a little exasperated at the overly sentimental scene. Pain makes one cry—it’s normal. No need to fabricate reasons.

Meanwhile, Ji Yiqing and Ji Chaomian exchanged a glance, moved.

For a young general full of ambition, leg pain meant hope—hope to stand again, hope to return to the battlefield. Though men don’t often cry, enduring the despair of never standing again and suddenly gaining hope naturally brings tears.

Jiu Yue said, “So you want it to hurt like this? Not take painkillers?”

Shen Zongsheng nodded firmly, then worriedly asked, “Will constant pain cause problems?”

Jiu Yue shrugged. “No problem. It just hurts.” Hurt won’t kill you!

“Good. I want it to hurt—I want to truly feel my legs exist.”

Jiu Yue sighed. “Fine, as long as you’re happy.” After all, it’s not her leg that hurts.