Winds Blowing in Anhwi (7)
"Urgh."
A white-haired old man let out a deep sigh, and the girl seated across from him at the Go board broke into a bright smile. Her hair was neatly tied up in an elegant bun, and the white robe embroidered with blue patterns accentuated her refined air.
"What's wrong? Didn't you say you'd definitely beat me today?"
The old man glared at the board for a moment before tossing his stone down with a clack.
"Bah. Tsk. It's hard to lose convincingly without making it obvious today, too. I forfeit."
"Ahaha. Thank you, Grandfather."
"We'll play again next time. Got it?"
"Of course, of course. Take care on your way out. Oh, you know the way, right?"
The girl flashed a wide grin, and the old man—Wang Geumbo, master of Geumwa Jeonjang—waved her off with feigned gruffness.
"What do you take this old man for?"
As the old man rose from his seat, his escort warriors stepped forward to guard him. It was only natural; as the master of Geumwa Jeonjang, he was one of the top wealthy figures in all of Anhwi Province. Yet it wasn't so natural that Wang Geumbo—a man who could stand toe-to-toe with the head of the Namgung family if he wished—would leisurely sit and play Go with a mere girl in her early teens.
A man who had lived his whole life solely for the thrill of earning and hoarding money, wasting his time like this would have been unimaginable just a few months ago.
Watching the old man depart slowly under the warriors' protection, the girl suddenly spoke up.
"Thank you, always."
"...Even if you say that, I won't go easy on you next time."
"I'll look forward to it."
The old man replied without turning, to hide the twitching smile at the corner of his mouth.
Wang Geumbo's palanquin arrived at a shop with a rustic sign reading Chunbong Inn. Unlike the plain sign, the interior was quite spacious, and dozens of mats and tables were laid out outside to accommodate more guests in busy times.
"Ahem."
Wang Geumbo cleared his throat unnecessarily as he descended from the palanquin. Moments later, the inn's door flew open, and a boy dashed out, bowing deeply.
"Lost again today, sir?"
"What? Are you mocking me, boy? And it wasn't a loss—I let her win."
"Hehe, of course. Must be tiring going easy every day. Come in and have a hot bowl of noodles?"
"Hrm. Well, why not?"
Chunbong guided Wang Geumbo, his escorts, and even the palanquin bearers to seats, then shouted toward the kitchen.
"Nine bowls of noodles here!"
"Coming right up!"
Before long, steaming bowls of noodles appeared on the tables in a flash.
"Dig in."
"Yes, sir."
As Wang Geumbo picked up his chopsticks, the warriors and bearers began eating as if it were routine, without a hint of awkwardness.
Wang Geumbo slurped down his noodles and pulled a small pouch from his bosom, handing it to Chunbong.
"Here. For today."
"Thank you so much, always."
"Bah. If that greedy little thing hadn't made such a pitiful face, I'd have won today."
"Haha."
It had been six months now since Wang Geumbo, having lost his wager Go match to the girl, started bringing silver pouches to Chunbong Inn.
It all began like this.
"The Namgung girl is playing Go in the marketplace? And everyone's losing to her?"
For an old man whose livelihood was making and saving money, Go was his one and only hobby—and his pride and confidence in it were immense. He figured some pathetic fools must have challenged her and lost, and headed straight to the market.
There, he suffered the most crushing defeat of his Go career.
"...Hah."
Staring blankly at the board where scarcely any of his stones remained, Wang Geumbo shook his head and yelled at the girl.
"Rematch!"
But the girl calmly gathered the stones and replied.
"You have to wait your turn, Grandfather. I'm busy too. Don't you see the line over there?"
"......"
She was right. Dozens of people waited around the board, eager for a game against her. But the old man threw a tantrum.
"Bah! If I want to play, I play. Listen up—all of you. I'll give each of you one nyang of silver, so yield your turn to me."
"R-Really?"
The crowd knew Wang Geumbo, of course. One of Anhwi's top five tycoons wouldn't lie over a mere nyang of silver. Their eyes lit up.
But the girl shook her head.
"You can't do that."
"Why not? I'm buying their turns with my money."
"If you're spending that much, give it to me instead. Let's wager. Then I'll play you first."
"Hmph. Fine? You're no different—"
"No different?"
He nearly spat out that she was just another money-grubbing kid, but caught himself realizing she was from the Namgung family.
"...Never mind. Let's just play. What's the wager?"
"Ten nyang of silver!"
"Heh. You sure? Do you know how much ten nyang is?"
"Oh, if you don't have enough, I can make it five. I'm fine with—"
"Urgh! I'll go first!"
Infuriated at the implication he lacked money—a man who had nothing but—the old man slammed down his stone.
Outwardly cheerful, inwardly his interest had already cooled. He'd been intrigued by the girl at first, but her demand to wager money meant for others killed it. He'd seen too many swayed by cash.
"I lose."
So he tossed the silver pouch after another loss and rose easily.
But the girl stopped him.
"What about the wager?"
"It's in there, isn't it?"
"I didn't ask for it."
"What?"
The old man frowned, but she continued undeterred.
"Go straight that way, turn right at the third fork—Chunbong Inn's on the corner. Bring it there."
"You take it. What do you take me for—"
"I'm busy. Have to play Go, so I can't get up."
Absurd excuse. His face soured, and habit made him blurt:
"This wench dares—Oops!"
He clapped a hand over his mouth in shock, but the words were out.
Even a top tycoon like him couldn't call a Namgung girl a "wench."
As he froze in panic, she smiled faintly.
"Bring the silver, and I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"......"
"Oh, my name's Yeon. Namgung Yeon."
No need to remember a name he'd never see again. He rose without giving his own and headed to Chunbong Inn—where an unexpected sight awaited.
Mats and tables filled the broad yard, packed with people. Ragged beggars reeking of grime mingled with the life-worn poor. And a boy bustled about serving them food.
"Here! Take it!"
"Th-Thank you."
"Thank you so much."
"If it's not enough, just say so! Plenty more!"
"Yes!"
People shoveled noodles frantically or waited patiently. Endless bowls flew from the kitchen behind.
Wang Geumbo caught the boy amid the bustle.
"Hey, errand boy."
"Yes?"
"That... Namgung Yeon sent me. Here's the money."
The sudden silver didn't surprise the boy.
"Ah! Thank you, sir. Sit and have a bowl of noodles."
"......"
Normally, he'd never eat plain noodles here, but the slurping sounds and savory broth aroma tempted him. He sat with mock reluctance.
"One bowl."
"Yes!"
It came quick—but nine bowls was the issue.
Staring at the rapidly placed bowls, he asked blankly.
"Why so many? Who's eating all this?"
"Huh? Nine people, nine bowls. What do you mean?"
"What? That's—"
The boy pointed slowly behind him. Following his finger, Wang Geumbo saw his four palanquin bearers and four escort warriors standing there.
A hammer-like shock hit him.
"......"
"Chunbong! Noodles! Hurry!"
"Got it!"
As Chunbong dashed off, the speechless old man beckoned his men slowly.
"Come eat together. It'll get cold."
"We couldn't possibly..."
"We'll set up new mats."
"Don't embarrass me further—come eat. I'm sorry."
"......"
Thus, Wang Geumbo sat side-by-side with bearers and warriors on the mat, chopsticks in hand. Sharing the same eye level and meal revealed things he'd overlooked.
"You— what's that scar on your arm?"
"Oh, yesterday I scraped it dropping the palanquin."
"Goodness. We'll stop by an apothecary on the way back."
"...Thank you."
His gaze shifted to the ever-present escort.
"Ah, didn't you just have a child?"
"Yes, a boy."
"When did you rest?"
"......"
"...Sorry. Take tomorrow off. The kid needs to know his father's face."
"Thank you."
After chatting amiably and finishing, they rose. Wang Geumbo pondered: How much could a bowl—or nine—cost these beggars and hard-livers?
When an escort called Chunbong to pay, the boy shook his head as if it were absurd.
"We don't take money here."
"What do you mean?"
"Yeon—er, Lady Namgung Yeon—runs this free for the hungry. No one pays."
Wang Geumbo interjected.
"Then the silver I gave earlier?"
"Oh, that's for operating costs. She sends it like this sometimes. Hehe."
"......"
"Whoa, busy—gotta go."
Staring blankly at Chunbong's retreating back, Wang Geumbo marched to the kitchen, grabbed a noodle bowl, and started serving like the boy.
"Here, boss."
Bearers and warriors joined in, and thanks to them, the hungry at Chunbong Inn filled their bellies quickly that day.
The next day, the old man sought out the "money-grubbing Namgung girl" again, lost at Go once more, and laughed joyfully.
Of course, Yeon's actions—listening to the aggrieved and resolving their plights, smashing corrupt sects, providing free meals at Chunbong Inn, using wager winnings to aid the needy—weren't seen as her solo ventures.
When word spread of "Namgung Yeon did this," praise rose not just for her but for the Namgung family.
Especially pressuring fellow righteous sects to aid the weak—that couldn't be one girl's whim, people thought. (Though it was.)
Thus, in Anhwi, the moniker White Jade Lotus Namgung Yeon spread alongside acclaim for the current head, Heavenly Sword of Clear Skies Namgung Myeong.
And in one inn, a youth causing a ruckus after hearing the rumors.
"The Namgung head aiding the poor and easing hardships? Nonsense! Someone's using a human-skin mask to impersonate him!"
The patrons, quietly eating buckwheat noodles, glared at the youth yelling over their praise for Namgung Myeong. Sword at his side marked him a warrior, but this was Anhwi. Who dared slander the Namgung head here?
"Don't tarnish the Heavenly Sword's honor!"
"Who are you to spout such drivel?!"
As commoners pointed and berated him, the youth trembled, then fled.
His name: Namgung Seowon.
Second son of Namgung family head Namgung Myeong.
Returning after three years since the Dragon of Light's debut in the martial world.