Chapter 15
The sirens above Huangquan Rust Port finally ceased, replaced by the hum of repair equipment and the clamor of personnel moving debris. The core had been destroyed, the source of the energy contamination gone. While the deeply infected miners and technicians hadn't regained consciousness, their aggressiveness had been greatly reduced without the energy support. They were being apprehended and brought under centralized surveillance one by one. Order at the port was being painstakingly restored.
Miao Weizhen was transferred to a temporary ward converted from the port commander's office, which had slightly better conditions.
He was still unconscious, but his vital signs were gradually stabilizing thanks to a strange treatment Susie had devised, combining Sailiang herbal medicine with the Federation's energy trauma theory. However, the blue energy wounds healed extremely slowly, causing him to frown even in his coma, as if in immense pain.
Wen Ling was almost always by his side. He was no longer the prince who needed to be protected, but took the initiative to assume the responsibility of coordinating the reconstruction of the port, comforting the people, and supervising Miao Weizhen's treatment.
He was wearing simple work clothes, with his long golden hair casually tied behind his head. He shuttled through the devastated port, listening to the cries of the miners' families, discussing defense arrangements with Han Zhong, and even having a brief exchange with Susie on some technical details.
His calmness, pragmatism, and hands-on approach, unbecoming of his status, gradually earned him the respect of the lower-class personnel and the remaining garrison troops. The way they looked at him was no longer simply out of awe for his royal status, but also a genuine admiration for him.
General Han Zhong often showed a complicated and gratified expression when he looked at Wen Ling's busy figure.
During a break, he handed Wen Ling a glass of warm water and said with emotion, "Your Highness, you have grown up and become more and more like your father... The former leader was also like this in his time, never putting on airs and always able to get along with others."
Wen Ling took the cup of water, and a trace of nostalgia and sadness flashed in her green eyes.
"General Han, I still have a lot to learn," he paused and looked towards the ward, "especially... how to find a balance between necessary ruthlessness and the kindness that should not be lost."
Han Zhong followed his gaze and sighed, "Minister Miao... he was a bit ruthless, but this time, without his decisive decision, Rust Port and even the entire Cangling Continent would have been doomed. Some places are destined to be stained with blood and mud."
There was a hint of helpless understanding in the old general's words.
Susie became a frequent visitor to the ward, monitoring Miao Weizhen's vitals while fiddling with the residual energy samples brought back from the core area. She would often mutter to herself for a long time while looking at the unconscious Miao Weizhen:
"Minister, who on earth did you think sent that federal assassin? Qu Beichen? That doesn't seem like his style. He prefers overt schemes... Could it be a radical faction within the federal military?"
"Your injury is truly troublesome. When did the Federation's standard weapons acquire such insidious energy properties? Luckily, I've figured out the laws of resonance, otherwise you'd be dead..."
"Ah, speaking of which, His Highness is really kind to you. He's been guarding you for so long that his eyes are red. You said you were..."
When she said this, she suddenly fell silent, secretly glanced at Wen Ling who was checking the report next to her, stuck out her tongue, and quickly buried her head in tinkering with her instrument.
Wen Ling seemed not to hear, but her fingers that were flipping through the electronic report paused slightly.
That night, acid rain fell in the port, hitting the metal roof with a dull sound.
Wen Ling and the unconscious Miao Weizhen were the only ones left in the ward. The monitoring equipment emitted a regular low hum, reflecting Miao Weizhen's pale face.
Wen Ling finished processing the last document regarding the material supply application, rubbed his swollen temples, and walked to the bedside. He looked at Miao Weizhen quietly for a while, then, as before, used a damp soft cloth to carefully wipe the cold sweat oozing from his forehead.
Just as he was about to withdraw his hand, a cold hand suddenly rose up and weakly but accurately grabbed his wrist.
Wen Ling was startled and looked down to see a pair of phoenix eyes that had just opened. Although still dim, they had regained some clarity.
Miao Weizhen woke up.
He looked at Wen Ling with a complex expression, a mixture of the dazed feeling of surviving a catastrophe, a deep exhaustion, and perhaps a hint of… a daze he couldn't hide when he saw Wen Ling guarding the bedside. He opened his mouth, his throat dry, and the sound he produced was hoarse and almost broken:
"...Why...are you guarding here?"
His questions were direct and sharp. Even in such a weak state, he still tried to take control of the situation and understand the motives behind Wen Ling's actions.
Wen Ling didn't break free from his hand, letting the cold touch linger on his wrist. He met Miao Weizhen's gaze, his deep green eyes appearing exceptionally calm and profound in the dim light.
"Because," Wen Ling's voice was very soft, but it was clearly heard by Miao Weizhen, "You saved me and Cang Lingzhou. And..."
He paused slightly, as if considering his words, and finally said simply, as if stating:
"I think you should live."
This sentence was plain, but it was like a warm current that unexpectedly crashed into the frozen and silent lake of Miao Weizhen's heart. He unconsciously loosened his grip on Wen Ling's wrist.
Miao Weizhen stared at him for a long moment. His gaze passed over Wen Ling's brow, slightly furrowed in fatigue, and slid across his straight, delicate nose, finally resting on his deep green eyes, which seemed to cleanse all impurities. A few loose strands of golden hair fell across Wen Ling's fair cheeks, casting a soft halo in the dim light of the instrument. This, combined with his calm and pure aura, created a breathtaking beauty.
This beauty, incompatible with the filth of Rusty Harbor, the grimy politics, and the darkness stained by his own hands, held an almost cruel allure. Miao Weizhen felt a trance, as if someone who had walked for too long in endless darkness suddenly caught a glimpse of the elusive moonlight. Beneath the frozen lake of his heart, something long dormant seemed to be gently touched by this moonlight, rippling a ripple that even he himself felt unfamiliar with.
The usual coldness and calculation in his eyes seemed to crack at this moment, revealing a trace of true human confusion and touch.
Outside the window, the acid rain continued to fall, beating out a staccato, oppressive rhythm. In this land fresh from catastrophe, between two people whose hands were once stained with blood and calculation, a complex emotion, transcending position and calculation, silently spread in the silent hospital ward.
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