"Comrade Quentin Shaw? So… what exactly isn’t working? Can you still, you know, handle things normally? Oh, got hurt during a mission, huh?"

"Take off your pants. I need to take a look."

"What are you standing there for? Come here. That bit of flesh on you looks no different from a slab of pork to me."

"..."

Quentin Shaw pressed his lips together but didn’t say a word. His hands moved fast as he unbuckled his belt.

Eight years in the army had drilled that crisp, no‑nonsense style into his bones.

And right at this moment, Serena Whitmore slipped into the female doctor’s body.

She lifted her head—and froze. The man in front of her leaned on a crutch, but he still stood straight as a rifle. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and eyes dark enough to make her forget to breathe.

Then, right in front of her, the man stripped off his shirt and pants,

Revealing a solid wall of… muscle.

His abs stood out like they’d been carved, eight neat blocks that made her heart thump against her ribs.

"Oh my god, am I even allowed to look at this?!"

Panicking, Serena slapped a hand over her eyes—though her fingers left a very obvious gap.

Her gaze slid down from the abs, following that sharply cut V‑line…

"Hiss…!!!"

She suddenly felt heat rush up her face—and then two drops of blood trickled straight out of her nose.

"Comrade? Are you alright?"

Quentin went rigid in an instant.

This doctor who’d been acting all cool a second ago—like she’d seen everything in the world—was suddenly hiding behind her hands, blushing like she’d never seen a man before?

Could she really be trusted?

“No, really, I’m fine. Air’s just too dry.”

Serena Whitmore held her nose, trying to steady herself while the strange new memories finished flooding in.

“No wonder this guy’s ridiculously handsome and built like a tree… turns out he’s the male lead I’m about to marry! I actually fell into a novel!”

She’d landed right inside the retro story her cousin had written, titled “The Second Marriage to the Infertile Commander: Three Times a Night, Five Babies on the Way.”

In the book, the female lead was basically her cousin’s self‑insert—someone who crossed into a ’70s setting, got blessed with cheat codes, made money like crazy, and collected romance like it was free. It dressed itself up as an inspirational tale but underneath was basically a spicy pulp story.

And she? She’d become the disastrous first wife of the male lead, Quentin Shaw, sharing the same name and everything.

The plot went like this—Quentin got injured on a mission, ended up transferred to the rear, and from that point on, he struggled physically. His standing in the unit also plummeted.

The female lead’s family, who had originally arranged an engagement with him, instantly looked down on him and wanted out.

But then they didn’t want to return the bride price or the stuff they’d swindled out of him.

So what did they do?

Her uncle’s family cooked up a shady plan—hide everything from the original Serena, trick her, and push her into marrying in the female lead’s place.

The problem was, the original Serena had recently checked Quentin’s illness and already thought very little of this “crippled” man.

Her uncle’s family pressed her hard, threatening her job until she cracked. In the end, the original Serena got dragged off to register the marriage.

She figured, well, even if he’s not capable in certain… areas, at least she’d get to live comfortably as an officer’s wife.

Except the very next day, Quentin got framed and reported. His entire family’s assets were confiscated, and everyone was shipped off to the countryside for labor reform.

The original Serena even lost her job—she coughed up blood from pure rage.

“What terrible luck did I run into?! You’re just cursed! Useless in every way, and now you’ve dragged me to this godforsaken place! If I’d known, I’d have kept my job and never married you!”

Quentin, feeling guilty about the sudden marriage, swallowed her every insult. That only made her even more arrogant.

Later, desperate to return to the city, the original Serena got involved with a young intellectual who had connections. Quentin caught them red‑handed.

She then had no choice but to divorce him. Right after, she married the young man and went back to the city within three months.

But fate flipped—Quentin was cleared of all charges soon after, instantly promoted to regiment commander, returned to the city, and later climbed all the way up to division commander, then army commander.

At this point in the story, the heroine cousin—who somehow owned several courtyards in the capital and even got into Peking University’s medical department—showed up with her magical spring water, fixed the male lead’s health issues, and apparently managed to get pregnant with five babies after one night with him.

And the original Serena Whitmore?

After moving back to the city, she learned the educated youth she married liked beating his wife. He kept her tied up at home and hit her; even if she went to the police, they’d just shrug and say it was a “family matter.”

She ran away several times, and every single time, the heroine dragged her back. “Cousin, look at you now. Isn’t karma something? I really don’t get it—Quentin Shaw was such a good man, and you dumped him to pick… this? Oh, and I should thank you for tossing out the things your parents left behind.”

Turns out the magical cube‑spring space that the cousin specially designed for the heroine? It had been sitting in Serena’s old belongings for ten whole years—nobody spotted it, just waiting for the heroine to pop in and grab it for free.

Serena finished the book so furious that her jaw ached.

Finally she understood—her cousin clearly wrote the whole thing just to make a fool of her.

But the heroine wasn’t completely wrong. With a man like Quentin Shaw right in front of you, why go looking for trouble?

His so‑called “problem”?

A few needles from her, and he’d be better in no time.

She wanted to see for herself—now that she was here, that cousin of hers who traveled through the book still thought she could steal her man? Her space?

Not a chance.

Everything here was hers.

“Comrade, are you done reading? My… condition… can it be treated? Will it hold up for the wedding?” Quentin Shaw finally couldn’t keep quiet and asked.

Why did this female comrade keep glancing at him like that? Was she really a proper doctor?

If his family hadn’t already arranged the engagement, he would never have come for treatment. And if it couldn’t be cured, he was ready to break off the engagement—he couldn’t drag some girl down with him.

“Can’t tell much just by looking. I need to feel…” Serena said with a dead‑serious face—though she swallowed the last word, pulse.

Quentin Shaw just stood there, saying nothing.

The tips of his ears flushed red in an instant.

He froze stiffly, all six feet plus of him looking like he had no clue where to put his hands or feet.

“Hands out. I need to check your pulse.”

Serena Whitmore almost burst out laughing, but she forced her face to stay serious. “Alright, Comrade Quentin Shaw, put your clothes back on and sit over there.”

Quentin let out a long, relieved breath.

For a second just now, he’d really thought she was taking advantage of him. Good thing it was only his imagination running wild.

The Whitmore family had practiced traditional medicine for generations, and all her acupuncture skills had been taught by her grandfather. Honestly though, pulse reading or not, it made no difference right now.

The male lead’s body was simply beyond treatment for the moment—something inside had snapped, and with the current medical level, nothing could fix it. It was originally written this way so the female lead could swoop in later and heal him.

Yeah… she might’ve bragged a bit too boldly earlier.

“It won’t stop you from getting married. I didn’t bring my needles today. I’ll come by daily and give you acupuncture. Two months and you’ll see improvement.”

Yeah, right. Total nonsense—just coaxing him.

Once she found a way to get her hands on that space spring water from the female lead, then she could actually fix him.

But before that? No cure—so she’d just have to… examine him every day.

And hey, those solid chest muscles of his… they’d probably feel pretty nice under her fingers.

“Thanks, Comrade. I’ll come again tomorrow.”

Quentin gave Serena a polite nod, straightened his back, and walked off with his cane.

“Next time we meet, we’ll be a real married couple.”

The smile on Serena’s face faded. “Alright then… let me see how the original owner’s lovely family plans to force me into marriage now.”

Quentin Shaw was definitely a man worth marrying—but if anyone thought they could corner her into it, they were dreaming.

Whatever perks the original girl in this story tossed away, Serena Whitmore intended to take back one by one.

"Serena, girl, you’re really blessed, you know that? Such a big blessing just falls right into your lap!"

"You know that officer Quentin Shaw who was supposed to get engaged to your sister Celeste, right? His family’s got foundation! He’s already a battalion-level officer, brings home a solid paycheck, and lives in the military compound.

Whoever marries him gets to be an officer’s wife—easy days, good life, no worries!"

"Quentin Shaw’s the kind of catch people line up for. Folks wanting to propose could’ve worn out their doorstep by now. If your grandfather hadn’t saved his father back then, you really think he’d agree to marry a girl from our Whitmore family?"

"So, well, your uncle and I talked it over, and we figured this good thing should go to you. You’ll marry him!"