The Proper Way to Drink
Judo—the art of drinking liquor. Jang Cheon didn't understand what his disciple meant. Since he failed to grasp it intuitively, he could respond calmly.
"Are you asking about a method to decompose alcohol with inner energy? It's not difficult. Concentrate your qi in your pulse points to guide the intoxication and..."
"That's not it."
Her words cut him off. So Jang Cheon simply watched Cheon Sohyang in silence. Where had that bold spirit from moments ago gone? The girl had lowered her eyes again.
"Um... the way to drink liquor."
A girl's heart was so unpredictable. One moment calm and serene, the next sparkling with childlike purity. Was that enough? There were times she was too terrified to speak, times she wanted to crawl into a mouse hole from embarrassment. Right now was the latter. Cheon Sohyang regretted her bold shout. Fool.
"Ajussi... you always drink it. And if I have to learn, it should be from someone reliable."
"Judo is something that should be taught not by an outsider like me, but properly by someone from your own family..."
He paused in thought, then tried to let the words flow smoothly—only to stop abruptly. Cheon Sohyang had no family elders left. Desperately, he twisted his already-spoken words to salvage them.
"...in accordance with proper etiquette. And you're still too young, aren't you? It's brazen enough that you're thinking of liquor before even focusing on your training."
"Who trains as hard as I do!"
"I'll definitely take you to Mount Song later. Go see with your own eyes how diligently those fresh-faced novice monks cultivate, then say that again."
"Everyone has their own path. You said deer and wolves can't eat the same food, right, Ajussi? I couldn't master the Twin Phoenix Cooperative Dance... but that's because our family art is so complicated!"
"Your founding ancestor just loved making things unnecessarily complex. Anyway, spend that time thinking about martial arts instead of liquor. When I was your age..."
And without thinking, Jang Cheon recalled the past. When he had been Cheon Sohyang's age. Just past his early twenties. Back then, he had married a good woman. They ate at the same table. Yes, just like this one. I-hwa had a sharp side to her personality and never lost an argument. She'd lift her chin high and glare at him.
"Back then..."
Across the table, in that exact same posture, with such an innocent face and clear, transparent eyes. Ah, and that color—even the amber-brown hue resembled polished amber. Just like Cheon Sohyang's eyes. For a moment, Jang Cheon felt dazed.
What am I thinking? His opponent was I-hwa's enemy. No. Yes, she was. The head of the Cheon Family Manor. But she was Sohyang. Even so, what did it change? That girl doesn't look like I-hwa! Then why had he just thought of I-hwa? He barely steadied his crumbling mind. Though not drunk, he lightly circulated his qi.
"Were you only thinking about martial arts back then? Hmph, even if a thirty-year-old ajussi like you reached a higher realm than me, I'll catch up soon enough. I've got something you don't!"
"...And what's that, you cheeky thing?"
"The best teacher in the world."
Cheon Sohyang stuck out her tongue with a pout, then winked one eye. Jang Cheon was at a loss for words.
"Th-then, doesn't that mean you should obey your teacher? Drinking with your master is only n-n-natur... No, there must be some reason you're suddenly asking this. I never had any such intentions."
"The liquor is here."
"Of course."
Clack. The server quietly set down two bottles of hwa-ju and left. Their conversation flowed uninterrupted.
"It's a journey through the jianghu."
"..."
"Our first trip together, Ajussi. I'm of age now, and I've been through all sorts of things, but never with you. We're already in Jangan at a nice inn. How could we not?"
Her ne? was so pure it made his heart ache. Jang Cheon closed his eyes. Calmly, lest Cheon Sohyang misread his mood. Thoughts flooded his mind. That ne, for instance. From a very young age, Cheon Sohyang had that verbal tic. Back when he fed her rice, when she threw tantrums about circulating qi on her own. Even when she bowed nine times to him as his disciple. So in Jang Cheon's heart, Cheon Sohyang had always remained that little girl asking questions like that. Frozen at the day they set off on their jianghu journey. He had never imagined drinking together. Or traveling the jianghu side by side. But the disciple he reunited with had grown up in a flash.
"Uh..."
It was to the point where he could no longer overlay the image of a little girl on her. So Jang Cheon opened his eyes again. Cheon Sohyang was awkwardly holding a liquor bottle, looking at him. Their eyes met.
"...That's not how you hold it when pouring for your elder. Give it here."
There was etiquette even to pouring drinks. What he remembered was from three hundred years ago, so it might not fit the modern world. And certainly not the Cheon Family's ways. Naturally—his own clan had been the Jang Family. But what did it matter? Teaching a disciple was always the master's duty.
"I'll pour for you first. I'll explain slowly, so ask if anything's unclear or confusing."
"Yes!"
If his disciple smiled so happily at just sharing a drink, all the more reason.
*
"Ugh... so, like, I took that guy and—whoosh."
Her tiny hand swiped through the air. The fierce form was Luk Hap Kuen, the basic fist art Jang Cheon had taught her as a child.
"Shwick, shwick. 'You bastard! Shwick!' And I knocked him flat."
"Somehow, it feels like you always solve things with your fists."
"They stole my sword bag, what was I supposed to do? Those guys pretended to be nice. If they'd been actors instead of ronin, they could've made it big in Peking opera."
"Right, never eat what strangers give you. Especially if you're on the run. Especially stuff like Dream Soul Powder or Qi-Dissolving Poison—they're often mixed into drinks."
"Eek."
Cheon Sohyang eyed the hwa-ju bottle. Her face was already beet red. She had inherited the Cheon Family's talent, but apparently not their tolerance.
"Glug."
"No poison. And even if there was, so what? We've already emptied two bottles each. You'd be a pile of bleached bones by now if it were poisoned."
"Ung... but Ajussi's the exception. You can save me. Hehe."
"Can the family head just rely on her master? You have to lead by example and save your retainers."
"Oh. Then can I save you sometime?"
"Save me from what, exactly?"
"Ung..."
The girl pondered. Lost in drunken haze, she mulled it over with foggy thoughts. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't imagine her master in peril. His realm was Manifestation, his experience that of a battle-hardened veteran. She couldn't even picture it. Still, yes. If such a day ever came, no matter the situation...
"Anyway, I'll save you. Because Ajussi is..."
She rolled her eyes, picking her words, then grinned.
"One of mine."
Jang Cheon sighed. Whatever his disciple was thinking, it was fine. The night was deep, the hour late. If he was teaching etiquette, it was time to call it.
"Do as you like. Just drink slower next time."
"Ugh?"
"Even martial masters get like this if they guzzle. First-rate or Transformation Realm, it's about self-control. Go to your room and decompose the alcohol. Sleep with clear senses."
"Ugh."
"Don't drag out your replies to your master."
"Nuuugh."
She staggered up the stairs. He wondered if he should support her, but she managed alone—no need. Jang Cheon escorted Cheon Sohyang to her room. Then he returned to his, lay on the bed.
How long had it been since he got this drunk? He couldn't remember. Once the pursuit began, he'd limited himself to two bottles at most. And he'd dispel the buzz immediately.
"For her first time drinking, she went all out—hard to relax. Later, I'll have her try soju or imperial liquor. That way she'll tell good from bad."
He tallied in his head. Seongdo had plenty of fine liquors. Back in Sichuan, he'd let her sample them one by one, etch the tastes in memory. Then she'd spot poison in drinks easily. After teaching that, another jianghu trip wouldn't be bad. This time, all the way to Hubei. He'd show her Shaolin's integrity as planned. Then where next, how...
"..."
Suddenly, Jang Cheon realized it. He had just been envisioning a future. Not one of burning chaos and revenge. Not the future where he torched the Cheon Family Manor, laughing wildly as he slew Cheon Yomyeong's spawn, finally repaying his long grudge. He was imagining a peaceful one. It felt awkward, frightening—and above all, guilt-ridden. Yet he couldn't stab a sword into his own heart. An image kept rising that quelled such impulses.