Contrast

Li Wenxing’s expression was grim.

He was the high and mighty Crown Prince, and yet now Margaret had stolen the spotlight --- he was naturally displeased.

If all those infected with the plague had died, he could’ve sealed off the news and buried the matter cleanly.

But now that Margaret had stirred things up, it was no longer something he could cover up.

Worst of all, it was Margaret who had saved those people.

By comparison, he --- this Crown Prince --- looked utterly incompetent.

Still, displeased as he was, he had to maintain appearances.

The rain had just stopped, and damp steam still rose from the ruins of Wugang City.

Li Wenxing stepped through the mud with a smile as warm as a spring breeze plastered on his face. “Margaret, you look worn out --- surely you’ve overworked yourself. Come back to camp with me. I had the cook prepare some ginseng soup --- it’ll warm you right up.”

Margaret wiped the rain from her cheeks. Her dark battle robe was soaked through with mud.

She glanced toward the distant, crumbling temple where some survivors were huddled. Many of them had just been rescued from the flood --- several children were still burning with fever.

“I appreciate your concern, brother,” she said flatly, her tone unreadable, though her fingers instinctively tightened around the jade pendant at her waist.

It was a gift from their father, engraved with two characters: “For the People.”

The camp was set up on the northern slope. Rows of grey tents stretched across the hillside. Outside, soldiers stood in shining armor --- a stark contrast to the tattered clothes of the disaster victims below.

Inside the main tent, warmth and luxury reigned. A gold-inlaid brazier burned silver-thread charcoal. On the white jade plates were slices of smoked venison, and amber-colored wine filled the emerald cups. Even the candied fruits were arranged like blooming flowers.

“Please sit, sister,” Li Wenxing said, personally pulling out a carved pearwood chair for her. The cuff of his brocade sleeve revealed gold-threaded dragons stitched into the lining. “This venison is tribute from the northern steppes, marinated for three days in twenty-year-aged liquor. Have a taste?”

He sliced a piece of tender meat with a silver knife, the jade ring on his finger catching the firelight as he handed it to her.

But Margaret didn’t move her chopsticks. Her gaze fell on the map hanging on the tent wall.

The streets of Wugang City were circled in red ink. Over the western slums, a bold black X had been marked.

“Brother, do you know how many people in the quarantine zone have the plague? And how many of them are innocent?”

Her voice turned cold as she tapped the table with her fingers. “On the way here, I passed the supply depot. It’s stacked with medical herbs. Why weren’t they delivered to the people?”

Li Wenxing paused mid-slice but quickly forced a laugh. “Ah, sister, you misunderstand. Those herbs are set aside for the soldiers. If the plague spreads through the camp, we can’t have them sitting around waiting to die, can we?”

He poured himself a drink, the wine ringing lightly against the cup’s edge. “Besides, there are too many disaster victims. We couldn’t possibly save them all.”

“So if you can’t save everyone, you save no one?” Margaret shot to her feet, her black cloak brushing past the brazier, sending up a trail of sparks. “Water can carry a boat --- or sink it. Have you forgotten, brother, that these people are citizens of Dragonmarsh --- not weeds by the roadside?”

The wind outside the tent carried the stench of rain and blood. The candle flames flickered wildly.

Li Wenxing’s smile faltered. He took a sip of wine. “You’re right, sister. Your criticism is fair. But compared to our second and third brothers, I’m practically a saint.”

He set down his cup and lowered his voice. “When a plague hit Lincheng, Li Guanglong simply torched the whole district --- burned over ten thousand to death. Their bones still smoke in the ashes. When Liyang City suffered an outbreak, Li Juntang was just as ruthless --- burning, killing, burying alive --- his men must’ve slaughtered countless innocents.

Compared to them, I’ve been merciful.

After all, I only did what was necessary to protect the greater good and prevent the spread of the plague.”

“Enough!”

Margaret’s voice was sharp, her knuckles white from clenching her fists.

She turned toward the tent’s entrance. Outside, the rain had eased, and the sky was beginning to lighten. In the distance, the cries of disaster victims rode in on the wind like needles piercing her heart.

“I’ll remember what they’ve done,” she said coldly. “But I’ll also report your apathy and inaction to Father.”

Li Wenxing’s smile froze completely. He put down his cup with a dull thud.

“There’s no need for this, sister,” he said. “We share the same blood. If you’d support me, we could one day rule Dragonmarsh together. Then we’d be in a position to save even more people. Isn’t that worth it?”

“You’re wrong, brother.” Margaret adjusted her cloak, her voice returning to its usual icy calm. “I never cared for power. I only want the people to live in peace.”

She glanced at the table full of delicacies. In this moment, they seemed grotesque.

“I won’t be staying for the meal. The children in the quarantine zone are still waiting for medicine.”

With that, Margaret turned and walked out.

Li Wenxing stared at her retreating figure. The smile faded from his lips.

A gust of wind blew into the tent as the flap lifted, making the candles flare violently. His shadow stretched across the tent wall --- distorted and grotesque.

Only after Margaret had gone far did he slowly clench his fists, his knuckles white, rage seething in his eyes. - Ton

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