The Second Son

On the morning of October 3, 1958, three days after the meeting of the company heads had ended, Gijo hung a childbirth rope across the front gate.

He was still fastening the left-twisted straw cord, fresh pine sprigs, charcoal, and red peppers knotted into it, when neighbors passing along the lane called out their congratulations.

"A son, by the look of it. Congratulations."

"You're blessed in your children. It was a daughter two years ago, wasn't it?"

"A happy occasion. Congratulations."

He had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hung a rope when Yeongeun was born as well, that one strung with pine, charcoal, and paper, but the congratulations came warmer and louder this time. It was that kind of age.

He returned their greetings and stepped back inside, and Hansu from the house next door came into the yard to offer his own.

"Congratulations, President."

"Thank you."

"And madam is well?"

"Yes. Mother and child are both healthy."

Gijo smiled, bright and unguarded. Even so, he thought the man smiling beside him must be carrying a great deal of worry. A father awaiting his first child was bound to be anxious, his mind in knots. Hansu had no parents of his own, and no elders on his wife's side either. He doesn't even know what he's supposed to do when she goes into labor, Gijo thought.

"In a few months you'll be a father yourself, Hansu."

"Yes, President."

Hansu scratched the back of his head and smiled, a little uneasily.

"If there's anything you're wondering about, ask."

Hansu asked at once, as if he had been waiting for the opening.

"President, when the baby comes I won't know how to cut the cord. Please teach me."

At the question a small, private smile touched Gijo's mouth. He remembered floundering over Yeongsu's cord, with no idea how it ought to be cut. He had followed the neighborhood midwife's instructions and severed it with hands that would not stop shaking.

"Wait here a moment."

He went into the room where Sunrye had given birth to their third child, Yeongjun. The aunt from Byeokje, who had moved up to Seoul, sat beside her, watching over mother and child.

"Mother-in-law, I'll take the scissors and the sickle."

"Go ahead, son-in-law. But why? I can put them away."

"The woman next door is expecting, and her husband says he doesn't know how to cut a cord."

"Is that so? Then teach him properly."

"Please explain it well, dear," Sunrye added, her voice thin with exhaustion.

"I will. Rest, love."

Gijo took the scissors and the sickle and left the room. He sat Hansu down on the wooden veranda and began.

"If it's a girl, you use scissors. If it's a boy, a sickle. You'll have scissors already. Do you have a sickle? If not, buy one and cut the grass in your yard with it first. It has to be a sickle the father himself has used."

"Yes, President."

Hansu nodded as he answered.

"The reason the father cuts the cord himself is the old belief that it lengthens the child's life. Superstition, of course. Still, better to do it, don't you think?"

"Yes. I want to cut it myself."

Hansu's face was set with resolve.

"Let me tell you what to watch for when you cut it."

First, Gijo told him, wash the scissors and the sickle clean and scald them in boiling water. Then cut so that about a handspan of cord remained, measured from the baby's navel.

"A handspan…."

Hansu shaped the length with his own hand, taking its measure.

"And don't cut it right away. Wait a little. Even if the midwife beside you tells you to cut, it's better to wait."

He was speaking from the medical knowledge he had carried with him out of the life before this one. A newborn began to breathe with its own lungs within seconds of birth, but it needed a certain time to adjust fully, and in that interval it could run short of oxygen. During those minutes the baby was better off still receiving, through the cord, blood rich in oxygen, iron, and other nutrients. There were even studies showing that delaying the cut by only two minutes sent a great deal of oxygen and iron into the infant's body, and that the iron taken in then sustained the child until six months of age.

"If by any chance the birth comes early, it's best to wait about five minutes before you cut."

At the words premature birth, Hansu's expression hardened. Hyeon-gyeong had lately stopped coming in to the company. She had kept up both her work and the night school after becoming pregnant, and her health had failed because of it, so the mention of an early birth struck him hard.

"It will all go well, Hansu. Don't worry too much. I'm only telling you so you'll be ready if the worst should happen."

"Yes, President. All I want is for my wife to be healthy, and for the child to be born safe."

"That's the best thing anyone can hope for."

Gijo gave the anxious father-to-be a pat on the shoulder, then offered one piece of advice more.

"The midwife may press you if you're slow to cut the cord. She'll be afraid the mother might bleed too much. There's no basis for that, so trust me, and take your time."

"Yes, President."

What he had given Hansu was medical knowledge brought back from the future. There were still few proper maternity hospitals, and a birth had to be managed at home; even a little understanding, rightly applied, mattered.

When the counsel was finished, he loosened the solemn air by asking a lighter question.

"What sort of conception dream did you have?"

Asked about the dream that foretold the child, Hansu smiled.

"I dreamed it myself. I was stealing peaches in an orchard. They were so ripe and so beautiful that I picked them without a second thought and carried them home."

"Is that so? Sounds like a girl."

"Yes. I think so too."

He already wore the look of a father utterly helpless before his daughter.

"If you have a girl, she'll take after her mother and her father. She'll be very pretty."

At the well-wishing, Hansu seemed to be sketching a happy future for himself. Gijo wanted to encourage him a little further. He thought a moment, then spoke.

"Judging by the dream you had, the child will be healthy and live a long life."

"How can you tell, President?"

Hansu's face brightened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at once.

"I suspect the peaches you stole in that dream were the peaches of immortality."

"Peaches of immortality? I don't know one kind of peach from another…."

"You wouldn't have seen them. You know Journey to the West, the tale with the Monkey King? They're the peaches from that story."

"What?"

Hansu looked dumbfounded at the joke, and yet he wanted the reading of his dream.

"What are these peaches of immortality, President?"

"They're tended by a woman immortal called the Queen Mother of the West. Some ripen every three thousand years, some every six thousand, and some every nine. Each kind has a different virtue, they say. Shall I tell you the rest?"

"Please do, President."

Hansu had been drawn all the way in.

"Eat a three-thousand-year peach and the body grows light and healthy. Eat a six-thousand-year peach and you can fly, and you live a very long life."

"And the nine-thousand-year one?"

"Eat that, and you live forever. Isn't that why the Monkey King stole every last nine-thousand-year peach and ate the lot? Ha."

It was nothing of a story, but while Hansu listened his mind eased. He was grateful that Gijo had gone so far as to drag in Journey to the West simply to cast his conception dream in a hopeful light.

This time it was Hansu who asked.

"President, what was the conception dream for your third child?"

"Ah. Mine?"

Gijo hesitated. The dream he had dreamed of Yeongjun had been a strange one.

In it he had been sitting on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wooden veranda when a tiger pushed the front gate open with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its head and came through. Once in the yard the beast let out a long sigh and dropped heavily to the ground. Looking closer, he saw scars all over its body, and a wound on one leg that was still bleeding. The tiger licked at the injuries as if they amounted to nothing at all, and when its eyes met his it came shambling over, rubbed the crown of its head against his knee, and rumbled a low, contented growl. Those eyes were the eyes of a creature looking upon its master, or its father, and Gijo had known the dream for a conception dream.

He had told Sunrye that he dreamed of a tiger coming in through the gate. He had not told her that its body was covered in wounds. He had not wanted her worrying over nothing, and the fear that the child might not live an easy life he had decided to keep for himself. What he had hidden from Sunrye, he now resolved to tell Hansu in full.

"It was a young tiger, but enormous. A cub the size of a full-grown tiger came into this very yard."

"A son's dream, then. Just as one would expect."

"Yes. Only… the young tiger's body was covered in scars."

He said it with a trace of worry on his face. Hansu glanced at that expression, then offered a reading of his own.

"President, if a young tiger was that large, it would have been a mountain lord."

"A mountain lord?"

"Yes. I used to hunt, so I know a little about them. Shall I tell you?"

"Please."

Now it was Gijo who was curious.

"A mountain lord is no ordinary tiger. It's the king of the mountain. We were taught that if you glimpse one far off, don't even think of taking it. Run."

"I see. Not an ordinary tiger, then."

"No, President. A mountain lord isn't a common tiger. It's a sacred beast that drives off evil spirits. If the tiger that came into your yard was wounded, those wounds didn't come from other animals, or from hunters. They came from fighting demons and stray spirits."

Gijo smiled at the interpretation. Just as he had tried to give Hansu good words, Hansu was trying to do the same for him.

"So I wonder whether your second son might be a man who spends his life fighting hard against whatever brings harm to Cheongsan. That's the thought that comes to me."

The two of them laughed together. There is a saying that the reading is better than the dream, and both men knew they had been working to interpret the other's kindly. They laughed anyway, freely and cleanly. Whatever the dream, it was the telling that made it.

"Hearing you say that, I feel lighter."

"And after your reading, my worries are gone. Thinking I'll have a daughter like one of those peaches of immortality puts me in a fine mood besides."

"And thinking my second son will grow into a sacred tiger, a mountain lord, makes me feel steady."

They were still turning that pleasant future over in their minds when a voice came from the gate.

"President! It's me, Dae-ik!"

The rope across the gate is keeping him out, Gijo realized, and he hurried over to throw the gate wide.

"Come in, Dae-ik."

"If I step in and bring some impurity down on the house…."

"That's all superstition. We had a son, so we're telling the neighborhood. Nothing more and nothing less."

He took Dae-ik by the hand and drew him inside. Coming in, Dae-ik caught sight of Hansu, broke into a wide grin, and greeted him.

"So what brings you, Dae-ik?"

"I saw good seaweed at the market yesterday and bought some, but I was a step too late. It's from Gijang."

"Oh, you didn't have to go and buy something like this…. Thank you, Dae-ik."

Thinking of the young man's sincerity, Gijo accepted the seaweed with real gratitude. Dae-ik gave one bundle to him and held another out to Hansu.

"Brother Hansu, make your wife's seaweed soup with this. Ha."

Taking seaweed a bachelor had gone out and bought, both men felt a pang of warmth. Hansu especially. For several years he and Dae-ik had shared a room, and the younger man's kindness went straight to his heart.

"Dae-ik. Are you eating properly?"

At the question Dae-ik answered in an exaggerated voice.

"Of course, brother. The elder madam and the younger madam always pack me side dishes, and Brother Seo-gwang's wife often brings soup as well."

"Even so, eating alone, the food can't taste like much."

"Aigo, what do you mean, no taste? After you got married my weight shot right up. I don't have to fight you for the good side dishes anymore, so I eat them all myself, and I've gotten fat. Ha."

"You rascal."

Hansu laughed and gave Dae-ik's shoulder a light smack. Dae-ik laughed, a little shy, then turned to Gijo.

"President, congratulations again on your son. I'll be going now."

"All right. Get home safe, Dae-ik."

"Take care, Dae-ik! We'll enjoy the seaweed!"

Gijo and Hansu saw him off. Dae-ik was carrying yet another bundle, and both of them knew who it was meant for. Seo-gwang's wife was pregnant as well. Whether she was carrying twins or not, her belly had swollen as big as Namsan, and Seo-gwang had taken to going about declaring:

"If you're going to have them, have a whole batch at once! Quadruplets, that's what I'd like!"

Children were being born on every side, and more were on the way. Watching Dae-ik's back as he turned down the alley, Gijo found himself hoping the young man would marry soon as well.

He and Hansu went each into his own house. Gijo left the seaweed in the kitchen, went through to the living room, and telephoned Ma-ryang. He had sent Yeongsu and Yeongeun to stay at Ma-ryang's, afraid the children would worry if they heard their mother in labor. His sister-in-law answered.

Soon-young hung up in a bright voice. Gijo placed a call as well to Sunrye's birth mother in Mapo. A father had a duty to let every one of the family know that a new life had come into the world.