Chapter 14
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Summer Nights Are Too Short (2)
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“Then you weren’t someone who entered this place as a courtesan from the start.”
“That’s right. I inherited everything from my mother and have been carrying on just as she did.”
“It seems your mother was truly a wonderful parent to you. You’ve grown into such a beautiful and capable woman, managing the Lotus Flower Pavilion so admirably.”
As Seonwoyong finished speaking and emptied his cup, Jeong Yeongyeong hurriedly refilled it.
“You flatter me. My skills fall short, and it’s exhausting at times, but I’m simply doing my utmost to uphold my mother’s legacy.”
“Now I understand. My visit to the Lotus Flower Pavilion wasn’t entirely by chance. The first time I met Pavilion Overseer Jang, I already knew he was one of our cult’s men, and meeting you here confirmed it.”
“Ah! So that’s how it was.”
“Now that everything is clear, you and the Lotus Flower Pavilion are no longer unrelated to me. Please don’t cling to trivial matters—continue your peaceful daily life as you always have. I won’t cause you the slightest trouble.”
“Sir, why speak so distantly? Trouble? Now that I know you’re a great figure in the cult, I’m ashamed to say it, but you’ve already captured my heart entirely. To me, nothing in this world is more precious or beautiful than you. Please don’t pretend not to know my feelings or treat me like a stranger.”
Seonwoyong let out a deep sigh at Jeong Yeongyeong’s earnest and heartfelt words before replying.
“It’s truly regrettable. I cut ties with such worldly connections long ago. I’ve been through countless events you couldn’t imagine, and I don’t even know what lies ahead. I sincerely urge you to withdraw your affections from a man like me and seek a new bond elsewhere.”
“They say fine steeds recognize their masters, and women their husbands. I may have many shortcomings, but for me, there is no one but you. I don’t ask for much or harbor greed. Just give me a small place in your heart, and I’ll be perfectly content.”
Seonwoyong simply gazed at Jeong Yeongyeong.
The food on the table had all gone cold, and the wine bottles were nearly empty.
Seonwoyong abruptly rose to his feet.
“You’ve entertained me so grandly tonight. The food was superb, and the wine excellent. It’s late now—I must take my leave.”
As he stepped toward the door, Jeong Yeongyeong stopped him with a single phrase.
“Please wait just a moment. There’s something I must ask of you.”
Seonwoyong turned back to look at her.
“What is this request?”
“You’ll soon be heading back out into the jianghu. If so, please look into news of my grandfather and father. My mother passed away so lonely, and I want to know if my father is alive or dead. If he’s gone, at least I need to know the date for his memorial rites. I beg you.”
Seonwoyong nodded at her plea.
“Very well. I’ll keep that promise. I don’t know when, but I’ll surely track down your father’s whereabouts and let you know. Farewell, then.”
With that vow, Seonwoyong left Jeong Yeongyeong’s quarters.
She watched his retreating figure until a single tear trickled down her cheek.
Without even calling a servant, she began slowly clearing the table left behind by her departed guest.
She couldn’t bring herself to touch the chopsticks and cup Seonwoyong had used until the very end.
* * *
After that day, Seonwoyong spent much of his time lost in solitary thought.
He often skipped the midday meals he used to enjoy with the children, or stood in a corner of the Lotus Flower Pavilion’s garden staring at a flowering tree all day.
He would rise early in the mornings to fetch Gyulroa from the stables and gallop out of the pavilion, returning only late at night.
Yet neither the Pavilion Master nor anyone else interfered with his actions.
This went on for several days. One day, he left at dawn, stayed out the entire day and night, and didn’t return until the next dawn.
After tethering Gyulroa in the stables, Seonwoyong dragged his utterly exhausted body to the dining hall.
He ordered whatever rice and side dishes were available, ate his fill, then called for a jar of strong liquor and drained it right there.
As he left the dining hall, the hems of his sleeves and pant legs were worn through, and the soles of his leather boots were completely exposed.
Gyulroa, too, was spent from the ride—its once-pristine horseshoes were worn down, and its body was caked in dried sweat and salt.
Old Man No, the stablehand, wiped Gyulroa down with clean water and brought a manger full of oats and beans.
Gyulroa snorted happily and emptied the trough.
Exhausted as it was, steam rose like a haze as the water on its body evaporated. Yet Gyulroa’s countenance was bright, almost cheerful.
Even its bony frame was slowly gaining muscle.
And then one day, Seonwoyong visited the annex where the children gathered and taught them swordsmanship with utmost care.
He meticulously checked and corrected their breathing techniques and sword-flicking methods.
He felt guilty for neglecting them these past few days. It was also a farewell to children he might never see again after leaving.
He also stopped by the training ground where Sacheonggi was practicing, watched his sword forms for a moment, and when their eyes met, gave a quiet nod.
In that silent exchange, Sacheonggi sensed he was about to depart.
It also conveyed a request to look after the Lotus Flower Pavilion in his absence.
Sacheonggi nodded back in acknowledgment.
Afterward, Seonwoyong checked Gyulroa’s feed in the stables, ate an early dinner, and retired to the annex.
There, he began packing his scant belongings.
It was that night.
Not long after Seonwoyong had gone to bed, a slender figure slipped through the annex door and into his bedroom.
It was Jeong Yeongyeong.
Entering the pitch-dark room, she silently removed her outer garment.
Seonwoyong, who had been lying down but now sat up, watched her in silence.
As Jeong Yeongyeong finished shedding her outer layers and reached for her white undergarments, Seonwoyong raised a hand to stop her.
Then he spread his arms wide toward her, and she immediately nestled into his embrace.
With her black hair unbound, Jeong Yeongyeong buried her face in his chest and asked,
“I sensed you were preparing to leave, so I came. I couldn’t just let you go like this—it’s improper, I know. Please, let tonight not be our last.”
“How did you know? I was planning to depart before dawn.”
“How could I not know? Please, cherish this night as a memory and never forget me.”
“I can’t predict the ways of the world, but I promise you clearly—this won’t be the last.”
Seonwoyong wrapped one arm around Yeongyeong’s shoulders and stroked her hair with the other.
Moments later, he lowered the hand from her hair and gently pressed her sleep acupoint.
Jeong Yeongyeong fell into a deep slumber.
Seonwoyong rose from the bed, laid her properly on it, and tucked her in with the blanket.
He gazed at her sleeping face for a time.
Jeong Yeongyeong slept deeply and sweetly, dreaming joyful and beautiful dreams.
When she awoke, Seonwoyong was nowhere to be seen.
The summer dawn outside her window was already bright, alive with the cheerful cries of birds.
As she sat up, she spotted it on the low table in the bedroom.
Seonwoyong’s coarse brown robe.
Yeongyeong hurriedly rose and caressed the garment.
It was the very robe he’d worn when he first arrived at the Lotus Flower Pavilion.
She understood its meaning.
Moments later, Jeong Yeongyeong sat calmly, placing her guqin on her lap, and began to pluck it slowly.
Tears streamed from her eyes.
They were the sweetest tears she had ever tasted.
* * *
Song Mountain, towering in the heart of Henan, was in fact the very center of the entire Central Plains.
Thus it was the Central Peak among the Five Great Mountains, a place etched with legends and myths spanning thousands of years.
Yet what truly represented Song Mountain was the thousand-year-old Shaolin Temple atop Lesser Room Peak.
At the foot of that Lesser Room Peak, where the Shaolin Temple stood, sprawled vast vegetable fields stretching endlessly.
During the battles to drive out the Mongol invaders, the warrior monks of Shaolin had joined the fight with fervor.
After the Ming Dynasty was established, when the Great Cloud Bright Religion was suppressed, they led the vanguard—and as reward, all land within a hundred li around Song Mountain was granted to Shaolin.
Even monks needed to eat, and it was these vegetables of every kind that sustained them.
Black and yellow soybeans for fermenting into sauces and pressing into tofu; green leafy greens for stir-frying and blanching; white and red root vegetables—the five-colored bounty was essential. From these expansive Shaolin fields, excluding winter, crops were grown and harvested year-round, carted up to the temple.
The one overseeing these fields was Baek Musang, the Wide-Eyed Layman—one of the Eight Eccentrics, the pinnacle masters of the current jianghu.
He stood over six chi tall, a giant exceeding two hundred jin.
His thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows arched skyward, and his wide, glaring eyes blazed like flames.
His moniker came from resembling the Wide-Eyed Heavenly King among the Four Heavenly Kings who guard the Buddha.
He had once been hailed as Shaolin’s greatest prodigy in a century.
A supreme master who had perfected fifteen of Shaolin’s boasted seventy-two ultimate arts, he had originally been a monk named Yuan Guang.
The current Shaolin elders all bore the “Yuan” generation name, marking him as an elder-level high monk.
Decades ago, as Shaolin’s representative young talent, he had ventured into the jianghu with a suicide squad to strike at the Blood Cloud Cult’s leadership, shaking the world with his feats.
But upon returning to Shaolin after the mission, he began flouting the temple’s precepts entirely, acting as he pleased.
He had always been hot-tempered and simple-minded, yet loved Shaolin so fiercely that he once upheld its rules like his life.
But after “that day,” returning from the brink of death, he indulged in wine and meat without hesitation.
He abandoned sutras and sermons, descending to the village below the mountain to carouse for days on end.
Eventually, he was excommunicated and cast out beyond the temple gates.
Yet he loved Shaolin, and all of Shaolin loved him.
Though he had broken his vows, he remained within its embrace as a sort of lay disciple, taking charge of the fields.
For decades since, he had served as the temple’s unseen gatekeeper.
He even shared bits of his movement, kicking, and fist techniques with the laborers working Shaolin’s fields.
“Do you think martial arts are something grand? If it’s just for beating and killing people, or pointless brawling, what’s the use in learning such trash? True martial arts lighten your steps when hauling heavy loads up the mountain and keep the slop from splashing when you carry the latrine down.”
Thanks to him, even the laborers could handle themselves somewhat.
Occasionally, arrogant martial artists would show off their strength only to end up pummeled into dough by the Wide-Eyed Layman.