Cheongmyeong 1795

The day was clear. Blooming flowers swayed daintily in the breeze that endeavored to spread the fragrance as far as possible. The field was ablaze with a myriad of colours. Insects swopped and scurried about to visit every sweet bloom. Eager hands reached out to lightly finger pink petals before the flower was plucked and deposited into a basket. Pokkot looked around her. Here and there, a figure was crouched, engaged in similar task. Bright eyes spotted more flowers. She ran to them. When the basket was full, she picked it up and made her way through the field. Down the gentle slope she skipped to the sound of bubbling water. Delicious aroma floated to her nose. Her pace picked up. She rounded the bend to see the women busy at the stream, a pot simmering over the hwaro.

"Back already?" Jeong-hyang smiled as Pokkot handed her the basket. "You are fast," she said as she looked into the basket filled with azaleas.

"Is the hyamyeon ready omoni?" Pokkot asked eagerly, peering into the pot but there were no noodles to be seen. Removing a covered pot, Jeong-hyang fished out uncooked noodles, dipped them quickly into a basin of fresh water before dropping them into the pot of boiling water.

"Oh so it 's your hunger that's the motivation for the hard work," Iseul said teasingly as she prepared the dough for the cakes.

"Were you any different at that age?" Taking a bowl from the stack beside her, Jeong-hyang gave the contents of the pot a stir. "How many times were you reprimanded for eating more than you should?"

"Aigoo, I was not the only one!" Iseul protested. "It's really too hard to hold back when there was so much good food before us. I don't know how you manage to control yourself when the rest of us were just salivating away."

"Simple, by thinking of other things." Deeming the noodles ready, Jeong-hyang dished it up, added the garnishes and handed it to Pokkot who was nearly dancing with impatience. "But I have to admit it was a chore pretending not to be hungry when they kept testing us so."

"Can you imagine the looks on customers' faces if gisaeng were to hog themselves at feasts instead of entertaining?" giggled Iseul.

Jeong-hyang joined her as she visualised the ridiculous scene. Pokkot wondered what was so funny about people eating at parties. The mention of gisaeng roused a forgotten memory. She paused in her eating. A gibang, many women. The terror of a night. A woman whose scent seemed to float by her. A pair hands working at many threads, twisting swiftly.

The sound of faraway nabal suddenly split the air. Startled, they looked about as the sound reverberated around them. Drums echoed, bouncing back and forth among the ridges and hillsides. They seemed to be near and yet far away.

"What is that?" Pokkot whispered, eyes round, her noodles momentarily forgotten.

"It's probably some military procession travelling through," Iseul said as she listened. "Nothing to worry about," she said to Pokkot. Reassured, the girl returned to her food.

Nabal and drums continued to sound. They could hear voices, seemingly to be shouting commands. When they seemed to remain in the vicinity instead of going away, a worried look crept into Jeong-hyang's eyes. Iseul reached for her hands, shaking her head. There could not be anything to do with them, she was sure. The rest of the group returned, attracted by the sounds. P'ado glanced about anxiously.

"Omoni, I'll go take a look," he said as he handed his basket to her.

"You need not worry," said halmoni Jung as she picked up the other baskets. "The King usually comes around here every year for the spring hunt. We are safe from his attentions as we are far from the hunting grounds. We should not disturb his Majesty with unnecessary intrusions," She went to the stream with the baskets, to wash her hands which were flicked with soil and to give the azaleas a quick rinse.

"Oh, is that what it is." Immense relief filled P'ado. He had been afraid the sounds heralded trouble for Yunbok. "Aigoo, how can you start without me!" he said when he spotted Pokkot sitting on the hwamunseok with an empty bowl on the soban. "For that, you get no jindallae-hwajeon!"

"You were slow so how can you blame me?" she returned.

"I'm older than you, you're supposed to wait.." He made a grab for her as she leaped up and made a cheeky face at him.

"He's too old to be engaging in such games with her," Iseul said as Pokkot led him on a chase.

"I know but he's not feeling himself right now." Jeong-hyang shook her head, rinsing and dropping more noodles distractedly into the cooking pot.

"I can see that." Iseul handed part of the the dough to halmoni Jung to shape. "What is going on? There's something troubling the three of you."

"Only time will show us if it can be resolved," Jeong-hyang said as she stirred the noodles. "Are we not facing the same dilemma? Why don't you just hear what he has to say instead of brushing him off?"

"Maybe it's because I am afraid of what he would say." The dough went completely flat as Iseul kneaded it forcefully. "It's his lack of nerve that's so infuriating. He never finishes whatever he wants to say. Should I stay around to listen to his stammers?"

"That is strange. I'd never thought he is afraid to speak his thoughts," Jeong-hyang chuckled, dishing out bowls of the hyamyeon. A wail caught their attention. They looked up and were astounded to see P'ado walking back to them with Pokkot tucked under his arm. "Really, P'adoya, that's inappropriate!" she rapped out in astonishment.

"I did not mean to," P'ado said sheepishly as he set Pokkot on her feet. Red faced, she hid behind Jeong-hyang. "Really, I'm sorry. You can have my share of jindallae-hwajeon."

"Don't do it again. Here," Jeong-hyang handed him a bowl of hyamyeon when Pokkot said nothing. "Eat it before it becomes soggy. Have some, halmoni" she said, handing another bowl to the old lady. "Go and help with the cakes, Pokkotya. Go on," she said soothingly when the girl clung to her.

"Here, you can beat the dough," Iseul beckoned. Pokkot sidled over to her, an eye on P'ado. "Pretend it's big bad oppa, give it all you got," she said as she tore off a small piece and handed it to her.

The dough was tentatively kneaded and then pounded at vehemently. P'ado supposed he was lucky he was not the dough. It was difficult to explain what had come over him. The desire to keep Pokkot close by him and not let go. He stirred the noodles in the bowl, would he taste the like in future? He ate slowly, wishing the rest at the retreat were able to join them but Yunbok and Hong-do were once more shut up in the workroom and master Park was in conference with the off-duty protectors.

With three pairs of hands working and shaping the dough, it was soon ready to be fried. The leftover omija tea was poured into bowls from the teapot. The shaped dough sizzled as they were stir-fried. As each cake was done, the azaleas were added. P'ado was surprised when Pokkot handed him his share with no sign of rancor or fear. Clearly, she had gotten over the incident. He did not realise that she had seen his unhappiness over the past weeks and was trying to cheer him up.

Stacks of jindallae-hwajeon (small azalea pancake) piled up as the dough was cooked. These were packed into the chanhap to be brought back to the others at the retreat. Once the used utensils and crockery were washed and packed up, they made their way back to the residence. In the background, they could still hear the sounds of the royal hunt; shouts, drums and gongs. All of which silenced the surrounding fauna though the insects nearby bumbled on blissfully.

When they reached the residence, Jeong-hyang removed one of the stacks of jindallae-hwajeon to a bowl and made her way to the workroom. Knowing the two would be too engrossed, she made a single call and opened the door when there was no response. As she expected, both of them were oblivious as they bent over the painting. Each was working on opposite ends of the silk tacked down firmly to the frame by threaded clasps. On silent feet, she made her way over to Yunbok and sat. Patiently, she waited until he straightened to freshen his paint brush.

He gave a start when she tugged his arm. "When did you come in?" he said.

"Here." She proffered the bowl of jindallae-hwajeon. "You were deaf to my call."

He got up and moved away to prevent any accidental marring of the painting and reached for one of the cakes. "Did you enjoy yourself out there?"

"Some." She grabbed hold of his hand and used the edge of her chima to clean off the smudges on his fingers.

"It won't kill me," he laughed when she frowned disapprovingly. "This is good," he chewed enthusiastically as she poured out some omija tea. She debated whether to talk about the incident and took the plunge before she changed her mind.

"P'ado's upset. His behaviour is becoming more erratic. We need to resolve the problem," she said anxiously.

"Hyangya, I would have settled it earlier but my hands are tied." Yunbok set the bowl of omija tea aside, his appetite for food vanished once he heard what she had to say.

"Do you suppose he may stop by?" she saw his puzzlement. "We heard the sounds of the royal hunt nearby. According to halmoni Jung, it's what he usually does this time of the year."

"I can't think of any reason he will do so. If he gives his approval, he can just send a message."

"I wish he would hurry up about it," she said peevishly and clapped a hand to her mouth at her boldness.

He chuckled. His smile died as he considered another problem. "There's one other matter I also wish to settle," he stared into the bowl, "but she has been avoiding me. It has to be deliberate. Has Iseul anything else to add?"

She kept her tone conversational. "No, she said Song-mi seems to regret having spoken to her and avoids all attempts for further dialogue. She is not speaking very much to the rest of us."

"We may just leave here without knowing her stance exactly. I hope it doesn't develop into something that will bite us in future," he nibbled halfheartedly at another cake.

She decided to chang the subject and looked at the painting; Hwaseong fortress. "How is the work coming along?"

"We finished three screens," he nodded at the covered frames standing against the far wall. "This is the fourth, we're halfway through it. Another four more and we're done."

"May it be soon," she sighed.

"Patience, Hyangya." He touched her face gently. A voice coughed.

"I smell food. Why is it I'm left out?" Hong-do complained as he rubbed his eyes and out aside his brush. Spotting the jindallae-hwajeon beside Yunbok, he headed for it. "No noodles?" He looked about for other dishes.

"You had it for lunch," Yunbok reminded.

"No, did I?" Hong-do blinked in confusion.

"I think you need not worry whether the food tastes good or not," Yunbok grinned at Jeong-hyang. "Just feed him juk all the time and tell him it's something else, he'll believe you."

Jeong-hyang pretended to seriously consider the suggestion. "That is tempting. It will save us a lot of trouble."

"Are you implying my memory is going?" Hong-do huffed as the other two laughed.

"No, just how far we can lead you around when you're distracted."

Pushing aside the problems, Jeong-hyang listened to their bicker, pleased they were resting from their task. The cakes and tea were consumed in due course. Yunbok invited her to view the finished pieces and removed the cloth. She caught her breath at the splendor of the first painting. Cautiously, she took a closer look. The royal procession seemed to shine with vibrancy, the road winding like a snake. There were intriguing details and so many figures she felt she could spend an entire day poring over them. So fascinating was was the painting she couldn't ask her questions fast enough.

Both painters were delighted with her respose. They took the time to point out interesting aspects of it to her. So absorbed were they, they did not notice the afternoon gliding away until the gloom made it difficult to see. With dismay, Jeong-hyang departed for the kitchen while the two painters covered the painting and washed up the dried paint brushes and paint bowls at the well in the back courtyard.

Before long, Soon-joo came by to announce dinner was ready. After hanging out the painting paraphernalia to dry, they made their way to the daecheong. After days of seclusion with painting, they felt they ought to join the others for the evening meals. Since it was Samjitnal, dinner was sumyeon (flowered noodles in honey water), tangpyeongchae (mug bean jelly mixed with vegetables), gaeptteok (half-moon puffed rice cake) with dugyeonhwaju (azalea wine).

The painters drank sparingly of the wine for they intend to continue with their work. P'ado was allowed a small cup to try as Pokkot looked on, wishing she was old enough. Suk-kwon downed cup after cup. So many that Yunbok felt obliged to give a warning that he might feel sick the next day. The older man only grunted. Yunbok glanced at Iseul but she ignored his mute appeal as she cleared away the dishes with Jeong-hyang and Song-mi. Hong-do only shook his head at the stubborn mood of the two. Their dispute would never be resolved if they refused to talk.

The women bore the soban to the kitchen with Pokkot following. Murmuring that she had to look to Jinjia, Song-mi withdrew quietly after depositing the soban she was carrying at the kitchen. As she passed by the daecheong, she glanced in; they were still talking. Her feet slowed as her gaze lingered. There was much she wished to say. With so much uncertainties that threatened to follow her, it was not the time to allow her control to slip. Given a chance, she would turn to the other women but she knew it was useless. They could no more help themselves than they could help her. When would her burdens end? Deep in thought, she did not notice the flicker of movement as she crossed the daecheong of the anbang, heading for her room where Jinjia was sleeping.

"Song-mi."

With a little scream of fright, she turned, nearly dropping the chongrong she was carrying.

"Who's there?" she cast frightened glances at the shadows. The figure of a man moved nearer until the light from the lantern fell on his face. "You!" she gasped, almost fainting. What was he doing there?

"Yes, it's me." Ui-sik reached out for her and stopped when she backed away. "It's really me," he said, removing the jeonnip, thinking she could not see his face clearly. "Me, your husband."

"Why are you dressed like that? How did you get in?" she said, taking him in from head to foot in amazement for he was dressed as a soldier. Where did he get the uniform? Did he kill someone for it? She dared not look about. Where were the men who were supposed to be guarding the residence?

"It doesn't matter. I'm here to take you away." He tossed the jeonnip away. "We can go somewhere else with Jinjia. Build a new life."

"Aren't you imprisoned? How did you escape?" The light danced about for her hands were trembling. She tried to still them, to no avail.

"I was released. It's not important," he said, approaching her again. A shadow entered his eyes when she retreated once more. "What is it?"

She fought to control her fear. "Life as fugitives, is that what you mean?"

"No. I assure you, we will not be fugitives but we cannot go back to Siheung. We will go north, we can rebuild," he said confidently. Was that what she was afraid of? Her concerns were understandable but she would soon see there was nothing to worry about.

"How is that possible..," she shook her head in disbelief. "You.." It had to be dream. It had to be. She looked left and right, wondering what to do, wishing she had not decided to come to the anbang. But if she had not, would he have taken Jinjia?

"Trust me. I'm your husband, am I not? I will never lie to you. You should trust me, I only have your well-being at heart." He reached out. Anger flooded his eyes when she sidestepped to avoid his hand. She froze in horror at her involuntary action. A betrayal of her innermost feeling. She had thought she had kept a firm hand on herself but the days of ease and freedom at the residence had undone her.

"You still have him in your heart. Don't lie to me..," he whispered though she said nothing, the icy rage in his eyes pinning her to the spot. "You lied, didn't you? I should not have believed you. He is here, isn't he?"

"No, please, leave him..," she reached out to grab his sleeve as he turned. Quick as a flash, he twisted her arm behind her back. The chongrong dropped to the floor. The flame went out as the candle bounced out.

"You will regret ever laying eyes on him," he hissed and forced her to walk to the sarang.

When Suk-kwon persisted in his drinking, Yunbok finally had to resort to physical measures to stop him. He removed the jug of dugyeonhwaju and refused to hand it back when the older man demanded for it. Whereupon, Suk-kwon tried to wrest it from him. If he could catch hold of Yunbok. No matter what he tried, Yunbok dodged him agilely at every turn around the daecheong. Hong-do and P'ado looked on, laughing. Suk-kwon was feeling the effects of the wine and it showed, his reactions were slow. His feet seemed to be three and he was stumbling about.

After failing to corner Yunbok for the umpteenth time, he stood still and tried to steady himself. Trust that rascal to pile on his problems. He opened his mouth to give his tormentor a earful. A shocked exclamation from P'ado arrested whatever he was about to say. Yunbok turned to follow P'ado's gaze and was stunned to see Song-mi with Ui-sik. To his amazement, Ui-sik held her helpless with an arm twisted behind her and a dagger to her neck. What was going on? Why was he treating his wife so?

"Stay where you are," Ui-sik warned when P'ado and Hong-do leaped to their feet. Suk-kwon blinked owlishly for he was seeing four and six people before him. "If you have no wish for an accident."

"What do you want?" Hong-do said angrily. "Why are you holding your wife..."

"Because she has a little thorn within which I must help her to get rid of. And I wish to return a favor." Ui-sik stared at Yunbok. "Master Seo, I see you are holding a jug in your hand. Would you mind breaking it?"

"Why?"

"Because I will hurt her if you don't. If I do not get what I want." The cold glint in his eyes told Yunbok he meant what he said. He turned and threw the jug against the far wall. It shattered, spilling the remaining wine all over. "Pick up one of the pieces."

Yunbok eyed him curiously but did as he was asked. "Good. Would you mind killing yourself with it?" Ui-sik said conversationally, feeling Song-mi's protest and hissed a warning.

"Kill myself? There is little reason for me to do so." Yunbok fingered the broken piece in his hand. If he threw it, would it be enough to distract Ui-sik? But then, the man might expect him to do such a thing.

"It's not enough to know you will save her? You are cold of heart," Ui-sik bent to Song-mi. "You hear that? He will not kill himself for you."

Was the man mad? Yunbok measured the distance between him and Ui-sik, trying to gauge the outcome should he initiate the attack he had in mind. Would he really kill his wife?

"Kill myself to save her. Must I? We are but friends," he said, infusing contempt in his voice and turned to pace. "Whatever gives you the idea I hold any affection for her? I already have a wife, who I hold dear above all else. Why should I hanker after another man's wife?" He stopped to face Ui-sik, hoping he would not notice he had moved nearer. The others behind him watched with bated breath. Suk-kwon cursed under his breath. His indulgence was going to be costly.

"I never said you love her but she does. If you die, there will be no thorn in her heart. There will be no other ... but me."

Yunbok's brows shot up. "Are you saying she has no affection for you? You have been married for years, how is that possible if you do not have her devotion?"

"It does not concern you! What matters is that you must be gone, forever...now," Ui-sik glared at him and moved the dagger slightly. It glinted in the light. "Now.. or I slit her throat. Better her dead than have her pining for someone else."

Korean Words

dugyeonhwaju - azalea wine

gaeptteok - half-moon puffed rice cake

hwamyeon - flower noodles

jindallae-hwajeon - small azalea pancake

sumyeon - flowered noodles in honey water

tangpyeongchae - mug bean jelly mixed with vegetables