That chiseled profile was cold and tranquil; the tumultuous black waves outside the window were mirrored in his eyes, unable to stir even a ripple. In Ann Vaughn’s eyes, a faint hint of awe slowly appeared, her heart lightly touched by something sweet and warm. She did not disturb him, handing the captain and the other staff over to the doctors before quietly leaving the room. Returning upstairs, Ann Vaughn continued to prepare the antidote prescription. In the boxes of herbs Kyle Skellen brought aboard the cruise, all were high-quality, aged rare items; even without extraction, the efficacy of the brewed medicine wouldn’t be too bad. Once the medicine was ready, Ann Vaughn immediately had it sent to the hall, letting the poisoned guests take it. Fortunately, the staff kept order well; although the hall accommodated a thousand people, no malicious shoving or trampling incidents occurred. As the queue dwindled, the aroma of the medicine pervaded the entire hall, lingering persistently. Just then, a doctor dashed into the kitchen, shouting, "Dr. Vaughn, it’s terrible! Princess Astrid can’t swallow the medicinal soup; the blood she vomits is black-purple, and her heartbeat is getting weaker!" When Ann Vaughn arrived at Astrid’s side, her breathing was already faint, as if her face was covered with deathly gray, unable to open her eyes. This was evidently the precursor to poison entering the heart! Ann Vaughn immediately used the Golden Needle to protect her heart meridian, disregarding propriety, directly tearing her collar and inserting the needle into the acupoint on her chest, redirecting the poison away from her heart bit by bit. Acupuncture detests haste; Ann Vaughn dared not be even slightly careless, cautiously placing the needles. The poisonous blood dripped from Astrid’s fingertips, gathering on the ivory-white floor, emitting a foul stench. Until the flowing blood turned normal red, and Astrid’s deathly pale complexion recovered somewhat, Ann Vaughn withdrew the needle, asking the bodyguards to bring a bowl of medicine to feed Astrid. "Feed it to her; if she can’t drink, force it down; in any case, she must drink it." Ann Vaughn stated plainly and strongly. Having witnessed her prowess, the bodyguards developed respect for her, so they didn’t oppose her words. They immediately pinched Astrid’s mouth, forcing the bitter medicine down her throat. After Ann Vaughn left, the guests sitting nearby, covering their mouths, exclaimed in awe. "How did she manage to save Princess Astrid without medical instruments, injections, or surgery?" "From my observation, it’s because of those miraculous things in her hands. My God, why doesn’t our country have such treasures?" "Unlike Western medicine requiring various precise instruments to diagnose a patient’s ailments and prescribe accordingly, S Country’s traditional medicine can diagnose through observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking. I never thought much of TCM before, but today I’ve truly witnessed its power..." "I used to agree with Princess Astrid’s assessment of TCM; wow, The Black Rose was indeed right, incomplete understanding shouldn’t lead to judgment!" "Can anyone tell me how to learn TCM? Do I need to go to S Country for that? Would they even teach such magic to foreigners?" Most of those gathered on the cruise were dignitaries from worldwide; if their views shifted, it would inevitably influence others under them. Especially having experienced near-death, these thoughts would remain in their minds for years, perhaps even longer. But Ann Vaughn remained unaware of all this. She took the packaged food given by the staff to the captain’s cabin, without disturbing Cyrus Hawthorne manning the control panel, quietly staying to the side. They say a man focused is most charming; Ann Vaughn suddenly understood the profound meaning of this phrase. By the next morning, the cruise finally docked smoothly. Several passengers were sent to the hospital by cars dispatched by the cruise company after disembarking, while the non-poisoned staff were taken to X Country’s patrol bureau for questioning. A tall figure stepped leisurely off the gangway, holding a sleepy girl in his arms like cradling a child, walking steadily. Ann Vaughn’s head rested on his shoulder, her little mouth occasionally puckering, likely dreaming of something delicious. "Mr. Hawthorne, please wait a moment!" Astrid was supported by two bodyguards in front of the gangway, waiting for an unspecified duration. Thanks to Ann Vaughn’s acupuncture help, after resting overnight, she recovered reasonably quickly. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢·𝗇𝗲𝘵 Cyrus Hawthorne paused his steps slightly, turning to look at her. Astrid adjusted her coat, gazing at Ann Vaughn sleeping soundly in Cyrus Hawthorne’s arms, her expression complex. "I have a question I want to ask... Can Dr. Vaughn be awakened to help me?" "No." Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips opened lightly, coldly rejecting her. Astrid felt a bit disappointed but didn’t insist, "Then please relay a message to Dr. Vaughn for me: Thank you, and I’m very sorry." The bodyguards beside her were shocked to hear Astrid’s words. Princess was always proud and willful; even when wrong, she would never admit fault, shifting all responsibility elsewhere. When had they ever seen her say thank you or even... apologize?! Upon hearing her words, Cyrus Hawthorne murmured a faint acknowledgment, promptly turning to carry Ann Vaughn to the parked black Spyker not far away. Watching them leave, Astrid surprisingly felt no bitterness or envy, just anxiety. If Ann Vaughn had an envious heart like hers, perhaps she would now... The car drove smoothly without any bumps. Ann Vaughn was awakened by her phone ringing; opening her eyes, she saw Cyrus Hawthorne beside her answering a call, his expression serious. "What’s wrong? What happened?" Ann Vaughn rubbed her eyes, asking in slight confusion. Cyrus Hawthorne’s brow furrowed tightly, his narrowed eyes fixed on the phone screen, slightly frozen, his voice somber: "Grandfather is hospitalized." "What?!" Ann Vaughn instantly sat up straight, her bright eyes filled with deep concern, "How did this happen? Grandpa has always been in good health, how could he suddenly be hospitalized?" "Anger caused a heart attack," Cyrus Hawthorne explained, reaching to gently rub her nape, his voice soft. "Then let’s quickly book tickets to fly back home..." Before she finished speaking, Ann Vaughn’s phone rang again. She had no choice but to answer. It was a crew member from the cruise, accompanying passengers to the hospital, calling because the antidote medicine was prepared by Ann Vaughn, hence needing her to visit the hospital to explain it to the doctors there. To prevent treatment conflicts. Seeing her brows furrow increasingly, her small lips pursed in distress, Cyrus Hawthorne asked her softly, "What’s wrong?"