The Ox Market (1)
That morning, as on every other, Ki-jo sat five-year-old Yeong-su down in front of him and began the day's lesson over breakfast.
"Yeong-su. There was a man your father knew. His name was Lee Kun-hee."
Sunrye had never heard of him either, so she listened along with her son.
"He took something drawn out of the dirt, made what they call a semiconductor, and became a very rich man."
"Out of dirt?"
It was Sunrye who asked, not Yeong-su.
"That's right. Silicon, from the commonest sand in the world. He worked it, and made a fortune."
"A fortune from sand? There's plenty of that in the Hantan River."
"The world is full of sand. But finding an opportunity in it — that isn't something just anyone can do."
He said it to Sunrye, then turned his eyes to the boy.
"Yeong-su. Like Lee Kun-hee, you have to learn to see a chance in what other people never look at. Even in what they think is impossible."
"Yes, Father."
Yeong-su answered. Ki-jo couldn't tell whether the boy had truly understood, but a son who listened, whatever he said, was a pleasure all the same. He meant to keep on with it — every morning a little more of the future, and whatever small lesson he could pass across the table.
After breakfast he put on his suit and took out the village common fund he kept hidden in the house.
"Where are you going?"
Sunrye, finished with the dishes, came into the room and found him already dressed to leave.
"I'm stepping over to the cattle yard."
"To look at oxen? We haven't even saved enough for a calf yet..."
Working the vast plain of Eundae-ri called for farm machinery or a draft ox. Machinery belonged to some far-off future, and an ox was simply too expensive to buy. Right after the war the price of cattle had climbed out of sight; a calf now cost more than a full-grown ox had before the fighting. Even so, any household with a little money to spare was desperate to lay hands on one.
"I'll only look."
"Then why are you taking the money..."
"Who knows? Someone might let an ox go cheap. Heh heh heh."
"Honestly, you... Be careful. And keep a close hold on that money. You're going with Yeong-bae's father, aren't you? His leg isn't good — I don't know that he can manage so long a road..."
By Yeong-bae's father, she meant Kim Seogwang.
"I'm going with Big Jang."
"What? With that Jang Ma-ryang?"
Sunrye was startled.
"Dear, just go with Yeong-bae's father... or else take Mr. Shim, the one who's good at hunting. He knows animals, doesn't he?"
"Mr. Shim's busy. Better to go with Big Jang. He hasn't any particular work."
"We still don't know what kind of man that Hamgyong fellow is. The village women say their knees go weak if they so much as meet his eyes..."
"It's all right. Don't worry. I'll be back."
"Dear..."
She was about to press her worry when Yeong-su, who had been lying on the floor writing characters, sprang up.
"Have a safe trip, Father."
Ki-jo laid a hand on the head of the boy, who had bobbed him a bow.
"Good, Yeong-su. Finish every character I've set you, and then you may go out and play."
"Yes, Father. I'll write shin for believing, and roe for relying on someone — all the way through to trust — and then I'll play."
He couldn't have kept from smiling if he'd tried. He tucked the newspaper-wrapped bundle of bills into the inner pocket of his suit, left the house, and went to the place he had set aside for Jang Ma-ryang. A cleared throat brought the door sliding open, and Ma-ryang put his face out.
"Where to, Village Head?"
"Big Jang, come with me somewhere today."
"All right."
He didn't ask where they were going, or what for. He simply came out of the room. Every time Ki-jo took in that enormous frame, satisfaction settled deep in him. Ma-ryang was a man who would matter in getting through the 1950s. The years just after the war were rough ones, and there would be no shortage of moments that called for a fist and for nerve. If he would stand squarely on Ki-jo's side and take the dirty work in hand, there was nothing better to ask.
The day they first met, Ki-jo had filled him with drink at a gukbap house — a shop that served soup over rice — and brought him back to the village. It had been a kind of test. Whether liquor turned him ugly, and whether he would forget the oath he had sworn before the cups started. Ma-ryang must have been a great cask to begin with. He emptied every drop the place had and never once lost his stride, and when Kim Seogwang, who plainly thought little of him, kept needling, he only laughed — heh, heh — and let it pass. He was a man of ample measure, in body and in mind. That much was plain.
But Ki-jo wanted a greater test. He wanted to know whether Ma-ryang, looking at the sum he carried, would keep from thinking of something else. On the road to the Yangju ox market, the man had only to choose: knock him down and run with the money. Ki-jo decided to take that risk. Ma-ryang was worth it.
Passing through Dongducheon, he complained of a dry throat and called for a bowl of makgeolli. After the cloudy rice wine, he drew the thick wad from his coat and opened the newspaper so Ma-ryang could see it plain.
Ma-ryang looked at the money, swept his eyes once around them, and spoke.
"Don't know where you're headed. Leave that with me."
"You'll hold it for me? All right, then. Here."
Ki-jo handed the bundle over without a moment's pause. A hand like a pot lid took it and slipped it, wordless, inside the coat. They walked on. Ki-jo led and never looked back, leaving every chance to vanish. But all the way to the Yangju ox market, Ma-ryang followed in silence.
"Come to look at oxen?"
Only after they arrived did he ask why they had come out.
"Let's see if we can find a decent one."
They made a round of the yard, looking over oxen breathing white into the cold. The haggling nearby was enough. The money Ki-jo had brought would not come close.
"Something to see to. I'll be back."
"All right. Go on."
He didn't mind when Ma-ryang, still carrying the wad, passed out of sight. What is going to happen will happen. What isn't, won't. He didn't take the man for so slight a character as that.
So he wandered the market at his ease, until he came on the scrawniest calf in the place and asked its owner the price. The man ran an eye over his clothes.
"What, you buying? Feed a runt like this proper fodder and raise him right, and the year after next he'll work."
He said it while stroking the crown of the calf's head.
A voice came from behind.
"A calf like that is better eaten."
Ki-jo turned. In a market jammed with oxen and men, Ma-ryang had somehow found him and was standing at his back.
"See here — who are you to talk like that? Eat a young calf?"
The owner flared. Ma-ryang only snorted.
"Where's this calf's mother? A thing this size ought to be on the teat and not letting go. So where'd the cow drop dead? You telling me all you've got is the calf?"
The owner's face went red. He gave a few empty coughs.
"Sold already."
"Sold? A calf this small follows its mother when she's sold, if it wants to live."
"Well, well. Won't trust a man."
"Then show me what you were paid for her."
"I mean — of all the... what kind of man is this..."
He wanted to let his temper go, but one look at Ma-ryang's brutal face and the sheer size of him, and he swallowed the words.
"The cow died after she calved, didn't she. Your conscience die with her? You haul out a calf that never tasted milk and try to sell it? Want your neck snapped in my hand, so you can follow her?"
Ma-ryang took one step in. The owner lurched back several paces, the fear in his eyes almost pitiful to see.
Ki-jo stopped him and moved them on. Leaving the scrawny calf behind, he felt a quiet pleasure. For all that the man looked simple and ignorant, he had a sharp eye, and knowing how to put out just the right pressure was thrown in besides. Most important of all, Ki-jo had confirmed it: the man kept faith.
"Let's look at the big oxen."
"Looking won't help. On the way to the privy I heard the dealers plain. Mouth to mouth, they're passing around the price of a few houses."
"I want to take an ox home today. Isn't there some way...?"
He said it almost to himself. He wanted to test Ma-ryang a little further.
"If you're taking one home, take a bull the size of a house."
Ki-jo grinned. Ma-ryang had no need to unfold the newspaper and count. He knew the wad fell absurdly short of an ox. And still he talks like that? It sounded impossible, but it didn't sound like empty talk.
"You've got the money, Big Jang. Care to try buying one yourself? A big one. A young bull."
"I'll try."
There was no weight in the answer, and no worry. But the eyes of the man who had just vowed to buy an ox were not on the yard full of cattle. They were turned outward, past the market.