Quick Transmigration: The Mad Beauty Refuses to Be the Scapegoat!-Chapter 106 - 17: The Princess Who Refuses to Be Cannon Fodder (Part 17)
Jiang Lai still stood up with the help of the table and respectfully bowed.
"Mother, I accidentally fell asleep. Please punish your daughter-in-law."
"Good child, how could I punish you? Your affection for Dun’er is seen by my eyes and remembered in my heart. Dun’er is fortunate to marry you. Quickly get up, the ground is cold."
Jiang Lai stood up, looking fatigued, and declined the old lady’s invitation to dine together, saying that she needed to take care of Murong Dun.
"I’ll go check on my husband first, mother. You can go ahead and eat. I’ll eat a little with my husband later."
"Don’t tire yourself too much. Dun’er has been through a lot and might be in a bad mood. As his wife, you should bear with him more. When he recovers, I’ll have him apologize to you properly."
Jiang Lai shook her head.
"I understand it all. My husband is having a hard time now. I will take good care of him until he recovers."
"Yes, good child, thank you for your hard work."
The old lady, who initially came with aggressiveness to hold someone accountable, left in the end, wiping her tears, filled with emotion and guilt.
Luoyang stood outside, witnessing this scene, and couldn’t help but frown, deep in thought.
Why is Jiang Lai so different from what he’d imagined?
How could an arrogant noble lady live peacefully with an old lady accustomed to the strict rules of the palace?
Luoyang was clearly pondering.
It seems that Jiang Lai, not only arrogant and imperious, is also quite scheming. As expected of the daughter of the treacherous official Jiang Xiong, one should not underestimate her feigned tenderness.
But Jiang Lai, after the old lady left, stretched lazily.
"Thanks, I slept really well last night."
"I didn’t sleep well."
Little Buding’s tone was heavy and voice fatigued, followed by a yawn.
"I copied scriptures for you all night and nearly died from exhaustion."
Jiang Lai walked towards Murong Dun’s room with a refreshed spirit, speaking pleasantly.
"It’s all for the task. I need a good rest to have the energy to deal with Murong Dun. Helping me is helping yourself. We’ll both benefit from completing the task, right? Besides, such things should be trivial for our President Ding. High-tech intelligence must be better than us, right?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
Little Buding wholeheartedly agreed, feeling flattered, knowing that seven out of ten things Jiang Lai said were untrue, yet still choosing to believe the sincerity in her recent words.
In Murong Dun’s room, Jiang Lai routinely changed his bandages and medicine, while keeping him company with some conversation.
Three days later, an old man with white hair, claiming to be the Penglai Medical Immortal, appeared at the gate of the Prince Mansion.
Murong Dun, unable to walk, personally went to greet him, respectfully addressing him as Divine Doctor with every word.
Since the day before, his spirits had visibly lifted, so even when the medicine change pained him, he refrained from throwing tantrums and breaking things.
The old man, clad in a white robe, followed by an attendant, entered the room, and Murong Dun uncovered the blanket on his leg, exposing the wound entirely.
The attendant took one look at the swollen, inflamed, bruised, and pus-filled leg and couldn’t help but step back and frown, saying,
"Master, can this even be saved?"
Murong Dun looked at the old man with hope, continuously asking,
"Divine Doctor, can my leg still be saved?"
The old man said nothing, examining the wound closely, reaching to uncover the area above it, discovering the swelling and bruising spreading to the thigh, and his expression grew solemn.
"How long has this injury been?"
"Five days ago, from an accidental fall on the mountain. Why, Divine Doctor? Is it difficult to treat?"
"Only five days? Then why is the wound so severely ulcerated and decomposed?"
Murong Dun was stunned, his voice trembling, filled with caution and hope as he spoke again,
"Then, Divine Doctor, can it still be saved?"
The old man took out a roll of silver needles from his medicine chest, withdrawing one and inserting it above the wound on the thigh. As the needle slowly rotated and penetrated the thigh, Murong Dun watched with eyes wide open, not daring to breathe, seeing the needle almost entirely embedded in his leg. The old man then looked up at him.
"Can you still feel the pain?"
Murong Dun shook his head.
"This... this needle doesn’t hurt at all when inserted."
The old man remained expressionless, pulling out the needle and quickly pricking Murong Dun’s hand, causing him to retract his hand sharply in pain.
Only then did he realize something was wrong.
"How could it... this hand is uninjured, not even scratched."
"Yes, the filth has entered your body, and the decay has spread above. This meat is already dead, so naturally, you can’t feel the pain."
After speaking, the old man wiped his hands, looked at Murong Dun’s nervous and terrified expression, then sighed helplessly,
"This leg can’t be saved. It needs to be amputated, or you won’t survive past the end of the month."
Such a simple sentence struck Murong Dun’s heart like needles piercing his soul.
He shook his head in despair, shouting loudly,
"No! No! Aren’t you a Divine Doctor? Aren’t you able to bring the dead back to life and restore bones and flesh? If you can’t heal this injury, what kind of Divine Doctor are you?!"
Upon hearing this, the old man frowned, showing displeasure.
"I am merely an ordinary doctor. The ability to bring the dead back to life is only possessed by immortals. I am powerless over the Prince’s leg."
"Divine Doctor, please save me. I can’t live without a leg, I can’t! There must be other ways, right? Please think again, help me!"
"As I said, if you want to live, amputate the leg. The longer you delay, the more dangerous it becomes. Prince, you must weigh and consider—life or leg."
Murong Dun fixated on his leg, tears streaming down uncontrollably, his whole body trembling like a sieve in utter despair and helplessness.
Death or disability?
Without a leg, life seems worse than death.
Yet the thought of actual death stripped him of courage.
In the end, he chose amputation, to save his life.
When he opened his eyes early the next morning, the first thing he did was eagerly pull off the blanket, looking at his right leg.
Indeed, it was empty, leaving only a stump wrapped in white bandages.
He had lost a leg, becoming a complete cripple.
At this moment, Murong Dun’s heart was utterly crushed.
Before leaving, the old man remarked regretfully,
"Judging by the wound, improper initial treatment allowed impurities to enter. If handled well initially, it wouldn’t have come to this. But you’re lucky to have used some good medicine that saved your life. Since you’ve used it, why didn’t you continue using it?"
Murong Dun, as desperate as a puppet, lifelessly raised his head to look at the old man, but his ears caught a key piece of information.
"Initial mishandling?"
