At the sound of Liu Pucheng’s exclamation, Qi Yue did not pause in her work. “Remember to pack the gauze tightly,” Qi Yue reminded him, having no time to explain anything.

Liu Pucheng, after a brief moment of panic, steadied his mind and stabilized his hands. “Keep track of how many pieces of cloth you use; I need to avoid leaving any inside when I suture,” Qi Yue instructed.

Liu Pucheng nodded. “Blood pressure is rising!” A’ru called out from the side, “Young Mistress, time is also running short…” Qi Yue nodded, speeding up her movements.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, constantly dripping into her eyes and obscuring her vision. “Wipe my brow,” Qi Yue requested.

A hand trembled as it reached out, wiping her with a cloth. Only then did Qi Yue see it was Zhang Tong.

Unusually, unlike Hu San who couldn't help but vomit at the sight of his first surgery, Zhang Tong held steady—a true testament to being Liu Pucheng’s foremost disciple. She offered him a small smile as thanks and commendation.

“The drainage tubes, please,” Qi Yue said next. Zhang Tong turned somewhat unsteadily to fetch two sterilized tubes.

What had started as one tube had been cut into three; Qi Yue noted with a touch of melancholy that they wouldn't last much longer. The supplies she brought were dwindling; perhaps one day only she—no, only this soul—would remain.

“How is the heartbeat?” Qi Yue asked, finishing the drainage. A’ru quickly inserted the stethoscope into her ears.

Qi Yue breathed a sigh of relief; the heartbeat was stable. She snipped the final suture thread as the sky was already turning dusky.

Accompanied by the lamp held aloft by Hu San, Qi Yue inserted the urinary catheter, and the surgery was finally, completely concluded. Everyone present was soaked through with sweat, their faces pale, as if they had just returned from battle.

When Qi Yue announced the operation was over, A’ru, Hu San, and Zhang Tong could not control themselves and sank onto the floor. Despite their exhaustion, relief and joy flickered across everyone’s faces.

Qi Yue’s expression remained solemn. “Hey, I know everyone wants to catch their breath, but…” she said in a low voice, “…the real fight is only just beginning now.” What?

Just beginning? Hadn’t it already ended?

All of them looked at Qi Yue in surprise. When the courtyard gate was opened, the first person Qi Yue saw was Chang Yuncheng.

He stood right at the entrance, like a guardian deity, firmly securing the gate. Opposite him stood the Prefect and his wife, alongside the Marquis of Dingxi and his wife.

Although there were rattan chairs and soft couches set up, not a single person sat down; instead, they were all watching the courtyard tensely. Hearing the door open, the Prefect and his wife’s hearts had leaped into their throats, and when they saw Qi Yue emerging, they nearly stopped breathing altogether.

“It’s done. The surgery went smoothly,” Qi Yue said, removing her mask.

The Prefect’s wife sagged, caught by the women supporting her on either side. Qi Yue’s gaze settled on Chang Yuncheng.

Although she noted he remained turned away and wasn't looking at her, she still perceived the slight relaxation in his rigid posture upon hearing the news. The Prefect and his wife, wiping tears, were being supported by servants toward the courtyard entrance.

“You cannot enter the room to see him yet. You may look through a crack in the window,” Qi Yue knew their longing to see their son was acute.

This unprecedented treatment was horrifying, and it was remarkable that the couple had managed to wait this long. “Ah?

Why not?” the Prefect asked. “Because he has just finished surgery; his body is very weak and requires absolute rest,” Qi Yue explained, using the simplest words she could manage.

“We won’t disturb him, we promise to be quiet,” the Prefect’s wife quickly insisted. “Well… it’s very clean in there, and he’s weak.

We…” Qi Yue gestured to her own body, “…we are unclean out here, which wouldn't be good for him.” The Prefect and his wife were left completely baffled. Being told they were ‘unclean’ was an unprecedented occurrence.

Everyone instinctively glanced down at themselves. Because of their son’s injury, they hadn’t slept, eaten, washed, or changed clothes for two days; between crying and scrambling, they were certainly not pristine.

“We’ll go change,” the couple said immediately. “Please wait until tomorrow to see him.

It truly isn't good for his recovery,” Qi Yue urged them. “I will guard him the entire time; rest assured.” The Prefect and his wife still wanted to protest when Chang Yuncheng stepped forward to look at them.

“Then, we will look through the window,” the Prefect stated instantly. Qi Yue nodded, moving aside to let them pass.

The Marquis of Dingxi and Madam Xie hesitated for a moment before following them in. Chang Yuncheng remained standing, unmoving.

“Thank you for standing guard for so long. You must be tired,” Qi Yue said to him.

Chang Yuncheng glanced at her, seeming slightly unaccustomed to the attention, and raised a hand to touch his chin. “Tired?

What hard work is that?” he replied, turning to leave. He paused after a few steps.

“You had the hard part.” Qi Yue had already turned to go back into the courtyard, and she turned back in surprise upon hearing this. Chang Yuncheng had already strode away.

“Hey, I was exhausted! Thank you for understanding,” Qi Yue called out with a laugh, raising her voice.

As night deepened, the small courtyard remained lit. Though they had agreed not to enter the sickroom, the Prefect and his wife absolutely refused to leave the premises.

Qi Yue knew she couldn't push them further and had someone prepare a room for the couple to rest. “I will personally watch over him; I know exactly how to provide post-operative care.

What you need to do now is rest well. Once he is past the critical period, you will need to take over his detailed care,” Qi Yue persuaded them repeatedly.

The term ‘critical period’ startled the Prefect and his wife anew. “Didn’t you say the… the surgery went smoothly?

Why is there still… danger?” the Prefect’s wife asked, clutching Qi Yue’s hand tremulously. “Generally, after any surgery, there must be an observation period,” Qi Yue smiled, trying to soothe them.

“We simply call it the critical period. There might be danger, or there might be nothing wrong.

I can only guarantee that I will do my absolute best, but the result… I truly cannot say.” This statement, so common in modern hospitals, only confused the couple further. “Then what is this, really?” the Prefect’s wife wept.

“Was he treated, or not?” Qi Yue was at a loss for words when Liu Pucheng opened the window. “He was treated, Master, Mistress.

The young master has only not yet woken from the anesthesia,” he said, turning back to call for Zhang Tong. Zhang Tong hurried in with a bowl of medicinal soup, administering it to the Prefect’s son using a kettle with a long spout, before pulling back the blanket draped over a bed frame modified from a flower trellis.

The bandages covering the injured man’s wounds were revealed to the Prefect and his wife. The Prefect’s wife immediately burst into tears, pressing against the window, calling her son’s name without pause.

The patient seemed to hear the cries, slowly moving his head and turning toward them. “Mother…” he moved his lips, emitting a murmuring sound that no one could hear except for Zhang Tong, who was close by.

But for the Prefect and his wife, this was more than enough. “Then… those things…” The Prefect, being a man, focused on different details.

He pointed, trembling, at the bandages and the tubes protruding from his son’s body. “Did you really cut open his stomach?” “Of course, otherwise how would we cut…” Qi Yue began to say.

Before she could finish, Liu Pucheng coughed, interrupting her. “Otherwise, how would we open the abdomen to repair the ruptured viscera?” he smoothly picked up the thread, casting a glance at Qi Yue.

Qi Yue paused briefly, understood his meaning, and said no more, only nodding. “Cut open the stomach… it really was cut open…” The Prefect muttered to himself, then looked at his son—who, though still groggy from the anesthetic, was undeniably alive—his expression one of inexpressible shock.

With their minds somewhat eased, the Prefect and his wife finally agreed to retire to the other room to rest. Qi Yue returned inside.

“Doctor, why did you stop me from telling the family that the spleen was…” she began to ask. Liu Pucheng stopped her.

“Tong’er, go call Hu San,” he commanded. Zhang Tong promptly obeyed to fetch Hu San.

A’ru, who had gone to boil more medicine, and Hu San, who was clearing the surgical waste, rushed back in. The door closed.

Liu Pucheng stood with them in the small adjacent room where the medicinal broth was simmering, looking them over. “Remember, the method Madam Qi used to treat Young Master Huang this time is exactly the same as the technique she used to save that servant girl,” he stated in a low voice.

No one in the room, including Qi Yue, immediately grasped the implication of his words. “That is to say, you cut open the belly and healed the wound; nothing else—you are forbidden to say anything else,” Liu Pucheng repeated firmly.

This time, Qi Yue understood. She recalled the words Liu Pucheng had cut short earlier.

“Doctor Liu, but this time it is different from Ah Hao’s case; this is a splenectomy. This… we can’t tell the family…” she said.

Concealing a patient’s general condition might be understandable, but hiding the details of the treatment, especially the removal of an internal organ—that was a major matter. A’ru, Hu San, and Zhang Tong also realized the implications and looked toward Liu Pucheng.

“Madam Qi, this cannot be disclosed,” Liu Pucheng looked at her and stated. “Why can’t it be said?” Qi Yue was perplexed.

This was something she had never done, nor could she have even conceived of doing it. Every step of a doctor’s surgical procedure must be meticulously recorded, let alone removing a patient's spleen—not informing the family would lead to lawsuits.

“Because I do not wish for Madam Qi to suffer the same fate as my master,” Liu Pucheng said gravely, a shade of sorrow crossing his face. “There will always be people in this world who dare to try new methods, but such attempts challenge common perception.

What the world does not understand, it fears as if it were the work of demons. My master was beaten more than once while saving lives; his clinic was smashed more than once while he treated the sick.

Whether he saved the life or failed to save it, he was beaten all the same…” Qi Yue looked at him. “Madam Qi, your body is a gift from your parents.

Removing the spleen is too shocking a prospect; it cannot be spoken of, at least not now,” Liu Pucheng said earnestly. “I do not want such excellent skill as yours to be destroyed by endless questioning and explanations.” Qi Yue looked at him, her nose stinging with emotion.

She had naturally anticipated the scrutiny and rage she would face from the Prefect and his wife had she revealed the spleen removal. However, she had never expected someone to step forward, willing to violate medical ethics by concealing the truth, simply to shield her from the ensuing turmoil.

“Doctor Liu, you…” she managed, her voice thick. “Madam Qi, I believe in you.

Everything you do, you do with confidence, never acting rashly or without reason. Therefore, do what you wish to do.

As for the rest…” Liu Pucheng offered a slight smile. “Curing the patient—that will be your explanation to them.”