Is a Drink Not Permitted?
Soyul stretched luxuriously as she stepped out of Cheongsu's quarters. Like chicks trailing after a mother hen, the Mount Hua disciples followed close behind her.
"Aigoo, exhausting. So exhausting."
"Still, I'd say it suits my constitution. Sitting still, I mean."
"You were dozing off, though? I suppose sleeping is what suits your constitution."
So went the back-and-forth chatter of Soyul and the disciples as they emerged from another delightful session of Daoist study with Cheongsu.
Then Myeonghwa, who had been jabbering away at Soyul's side, spotted someone and jolted.
"Huh?"
"Ah..."
It was Pungjin.
At the sight of their martial uncle, the second-generation disciples hurriedly bowed in greeting, and Soyul spoke up as well.
"M-Martial Uncle."
"Martial Uncle. Good day to you."
"Hello there? Why does it feel like I haven't seen you in ages?"
Pungjin had no lessons with Cheongsu to attend. For him to be prowling about here could only mean one thing — he had come to meet someone.
Masking his embarrassment, Pungjin managed to force out a reply.
"Ahem. It has not been so very long, Lady Kang."
"Three days without so much as a glimpse of each other, and we live on the same mountain — if that isn't a long time, what is? Don't tell me... you haven't been avoiding me?"
Three days had passed since Soyul, in the name of studying the Dao, had begun training alongside the Mount Hua disciples under Cheongsu's guidance.
Soyul herself rarely had reason to wander about, granted. Even so — three whole days without a single crossing of paths, in a sect that was neither so vast nor so cramped?
There was only one explanation: one of them had been deliberately dodging the other.
When Soyul's eyes narrowed into slits, Pungjin, acutely aware of the other disciples watching, scrambled to defend himself.
"N-No, of course not. Avoiding you? I am no such man."
"Well, if a Daoist master himself says it, I'll believe you."
"Ah... ahem."
"Then why, though? Hiding from me day after day, and now today you come find me yourself?"
"I told you, I was not avoiding you!"
"Anyway."
"W-Well, the thing is..."
"The thing is?"
Pungjin lowered his gaze.
The truth was that he had indeed been avoiding her.
Because he simply could not summon the courage to keep his promise.
Wear a courtesan's performance garb?
He, Pungjin, the eldest disciple of Mount Hua?
Rather than parade about in such a getup before every disciple in the sect, he would sooner have died.
And yet neither could he break a promise sworn in front of them all.
He didn't want to die, and he didn't want to wear those clothes — so he had simply dug himself into his room and refused to come out.
For three whole days. Starving all the while.
Through every hour of it, anxiety had gripped Pungjin so thoroughly that he hadn't even felt the hunger.
What if she comes looking for me?
What if she finds me and teases me for hiding? And then pulls out those clothes and holds them out to me? What am I supposed to say then?
The image of Soyul thrusting the garb at him and demanding he keep his word had replayed in his head without cease. Only today, at long last, had he steeled himself, gathered his courage, and gone to find her.
"I have given it a great deal of thought."
"About what?"
"About what Lady Kang must have been thinking."
"My thoughts?"
Soyul tilted her head, but Pungjin paid it no mind and pressed on.
"You were testing me. Were you not?"
"......"
"To see whether I — the very heart of the Dao, the eldest disciple of Mount Hua — would keep my word of my own accord, unprompted."
"......"
Having said that much, Pungjin studied Soyul's expression, but he could not decipher what it held.
"I agonized over it for three days. But in the end, clothing is nothing but outward appearance — mere veneer. You wished to see whether I would betray my conscience as a Daoist over so trifling a thing. And I have reached my decision."
Pungjin's face turned solemn, and he met Soyul's eyes at last — the eyes he had avoided all this while.
They were the eyes of a Daoist and a martial artist striving to honor the words he had spoken, no longer chained to appearances.
"Give me the performance garb. I shall don it, keep my promise to you, Lady Kang, and show you that I am a Daoist who no longer clings to the outward shell. I am grateful for the enlightenment you have granted me."
"....."
Soyul stared at him, eyes unreadable.
I just plain forgot about it in the middle of the Daoist lessons, that's all.
But faced with Pungjin's resolute expression, she couldn't bring herself to say it.
The man had spent three days believing she was testing him, and had come running over declaring he'd attained some grand realization.
If she said now, "Huh? What are you talking about? I just forgot," he looked liable to charge headlong off a cliff on the spot.
Carefully managing her expression, Soyul kept her voice level.
"Hmmm. I didn't expect quite such a splendid answer."
At that, Pungjin nodded.
"As expected..."
"It truly broke my heart, you know, watching a Daoist master fret over his wardrobe. Attachment to worldly things is the very first thing one must cast aside on the road to a higher realm."
"Hohh... not a single word of that is amiss, Lady Kang."
"Clothes, food, wealth — shouldn't the eye of a Daoist beholding such things be no different from beholding a stone?"
"Just so... and only now do I grasp it..."
Soyul was, in truth, merely cobbling together the Daoist teachings she'd soaked up from Cheongsu over the past three days — but Pungjin, knowing nothing of this, looked as though he might be moved to tears.
"You have passed the test most admirably, so we shall consider the performance garb null and void."
"Wha—?"
Pungjin's eyes went round at the wholly unexpected pronouncement, and Soyul flashed an impish smile.
"You and I may be past clinging to such things now, Master Pungjin, but the other disciples aren't quite there yet, are they? No sense stirring up trouble for nothing."
"......"
At her considerate words, Pungjin bowed his head low.
How pathetic a man I have been.
Standing before so great a person, he had never once thought to learn — only been dazzled by appearances, glowering in resentment.
How foolish a man I have been.
Facing one whose martial arts were so extraordinary yet so modestly worn, he had haughtily trumpeted his own petty achievements.
As a Daoist and as a martial artist both, it was utter defeat.
Shame at himself, reverence for the one before him, and that warm thoughtfulness — together they welled up, and before he knew it, tears had gathered in Pungjin's eyes and spilled over.
The Mount Hua disciples, who had been listening in silence beside the two, were startled out of their wits and rushed toward him.
"M-Martial Uncle."
"Whatever is the matter?"
"Haha. Looking back on how utterly obtuse I have been all this time, I find myself so ashamed that the tears fall."
Waving off the encircling juniors and swiping away his tears, Pungjin broke into a bright smile.
Not a trace of arrogance, haughtiness, or pride remained on his face now.
There stood only a single Daoist.
"Lady Kang. I thank you for the enlightenment."
"...Right. Well. I'm glad it helped, I guess."
Soyul did her best to smother her exasperation.
"But even if you were kind enough to let it go, Lady Kang, the fact remains that I lost our duel. That much cannot be unwritten. If there is aught else you desire, pray speak it."
"Hmm..."
At that, Soyul stole a sidelong glance at Pungjin and the disciples around them.
Amid the crowd, Myeonghwa's wide, sparkling eyes caught her gaze.
Having confirmed that sight, Soyul spoke.
"Then how about we all go out for drinks? Everyone here, together."
The wholly unexpected proposal brought a cloud of perplexity to Pungjin's face.
Drinks? Out of nowhere?
Mount Hua did not forbid alcohol, but neither did it encourage it.
And he was a Daoist, after all.
But since Soyul had already once let the performance garb slide for his sake, Pungjin could hardly afford to give offense.
"W-Well, Lady Kang—"
But before Pungjin could get another word out, Soyul cut him off.
"Master Pungjin?"
"Yes. Speak."
"If a man drinks wine, yet his body and his mind stand unbent — swayed by not so much as a hair — has he drunk wine? Or has he drunk water?"
"......"
Whether Pungjin and the disciples wore dumbfounded expressions or not, Soyul paid it no mind.
"If a Daoist takes a little wine, gets drunk, and disgraces himself — is that the wine's doing? Or the fault of his shallow discipline?"
"...It would, of course, be the fault of his shallow discipline."
"Exactly. And a man who lets a few cups strip away his self-command would have come undone sooner or later, wine or no. Wouldn't he?"
"...Truly, there is not a word to fault in what you say, Lady Kang."
The answer came from Pungjin's mouth, but every last Mount Hua disciple was nodding along in unison.
"And what about you, my honored Daoist masters? Are you the sort to lose yourselves to a few cups? Or the sort who can look upon a cup of wine as a cup of water?"
After a speech like that, not one disciple present could possibly say, I am a man of such low discipline that a few cups would knock me senseless.
Such an admission would reflect not merely on his own inadequacy, but directly upon the sect's.
The Mount Hua disciples answered with one voice.
"We can look upon a cup of wine as a cup of water."
"How could a man who loses himself to mere wine presume to call himself a Daoist?"
Watching the disciples and Soyul, Pungjin marveled inwardly once again.
How... how can her thoughts run so deep? Even in the gaze with which she regards a single cup of wine — one trifle among the world's ten thousand things — dwells such profound mystery of the Dao.
He resolved to attend Cheongsu's lessons from tomorrow without fail.
Even if he could never equal that lady, ought he not at least become a Daoist worthy of Mount Hua's name?
It was a historic moment: the innocent orthodox disciples, who had done nothing but cultivate the Dao deep in their mountain, were being led gently astray by the wicked silver tongue of a Demonic Cultist.
"Very well, Lady Kang. When shall we be going down, then?"
Soyul answered with a radiant smile.
"Right now."
"...So you're telling me you're off to Hwa-eum with the disciples?"
"That is so, Sect Leader."
"To drink?"
"That is so, Sect Leader."
Cheonghyeon quietly regarded Pungjin, who knelt respectfully before him.
"Heheh. Look at this fellow. A Daoist, and off to drink — nary a speck of shame on his face."
Going by tone alone it might have passed for a rebuke, but a smile teased at the corners of Cheonghyeon's mouth, half-hidden.
A smile had risen to Pungjin's lips as well before he knew it.
"Is it not permitted? To share a drink."
"Hahaha! Permitted? And why would it not be? My disciples are going out for a round — come now, might I join them?"
"That, I fear, would be difficult."
"Heheheh. So I'm to be shelved like some old relic in the back room, am I?"
Smiling at his ease, Pungjin drew a book from within his robe and presented it to Cheonghyeon. It was brand new — the ink on its cover had barely finished drying.
Cheonghyeon accepted it and read the title. Somewhere along the way, the hand that held the book had begun to tremble, ever so slightly.
"White Willow Plum Blossom Sword Art."
"Lady Kang bade me deliver it when I came before you, Sect Leader."
"....."
Brushing his fingers lightly over the gracefully inscribed title, Cheonghyeon slowly opened the manual.
Even the barest glance at its contents was enough for Cheonghyeon — better than any man alive — to know beyond all doubt that this was Mount Hua's sword art.
His heart ached as he turned the pages. Soyul had been on Mount Hua hardly a handful of days. For her to have already distilled and written out this much could only mean she had been whittling away her sleep, night after night.
And rather than bring the finished manual to him with her own hands, she had deliberately sent it through Pungjin. No doubt she had spared a thought for Cheonghyeon, who would only be obliged to thank her yet again.
Such consideration could not but move him.
As he gazed in silence down at the manual of the White Willow Plum Blossom Sword Art, Pungjin slowly rose from his place.
"Then I shall take my leave."
"Pungjin."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"Did you learn anything?"
"Learned, you say..."
As Pungjin stood there pondering, Cheonghyeon waited out the silence without a hint of impatience.
The pause was not long.
"I think I have more left to learn than I have learned."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it."
As Cheonghyeon's smile deepened, Pungjin bowed lightly and moved to withdraw.
"One moment."
"Yes?"
Halting the retreating Pungjin, Cheonghyeon tossed him a small pouch.
Caught on reflex, the pouch settled into his hand with a satisfying weight.
"No need to count coins. Go and have a good time."
"Thank you, Sect Leader."
While Pungjin was thus taking his leave of the Sect Leader, Soyul found herself hemmed in by the Mount Hua disciples, plunged once more into a trying situation.
"Unnie~ I'm so moved. Truly."
"About what?"
"You remembered what I said yesterday — that I wanted to go down to Hwa-eum — and you deliberately used drinks as the excuse to suggest we go. That's what this is, isn't it?"
Soyul flinched inwardly, though nothing showed on the surface.
"Oh? Did I say that? Nooo. I just felt like a drink, that's all. I wanted to have a round with you other masters, too."
"Why?"
The sudden drop in Myeonghwa's tone made Soyul shrink back, if only for an instant.
What's gotten into her this time?
"Hm?"
"Why 'the other masters'? You should want a drink with me."
"Ah — of course I want a drink with you too, Myeonghwa."
"Right? Of course? Hehehe."
As if none of it had ever happened, Myeonghwa latched onto her arm again and snuggled up against her, and Soyul shook her head.
She honestly could not tell what made the girl tick.
Watching the two of them, the other disciples chimed in as well.
"What you said earlier was truly stirring. We never saw it coming. That you would test Martial Uncle Pungjin in such a fashion..."
"Indeed. And did you see Uncle's face afterward? So unburdened? Somehow I have a feeling that from this day on, Martial Uncle Pungjin will spread his wings wider than ever."
The words of Myeong-o and Myeongji — Myeonghwa's fellow second-generation disciples — left Soyul's conscience stinging.
Well, so what? A good outcome was a good outcome, wasn't it?
"Ahaha, right? I hope it works out for him. Oh — here he comes now."
At those words, the disciples spotted Pungjin and swarmed him.
"Martial Uncle! What did he say?"
"Don't tell me... he refused?"
"As if he would! Lady Kang handed the Sect Leader that secret manual just now on purpose — to lean on him!"
"No, that's not—"
Soyul scratched her head, but nobody was listening. Daoist disciples or no, there was no power on earth that could make them hate wine and good food — and they had evidently built up quite the appetite for the outing.
At the sight of his eager juniors, Pungjin smiled and raised the hand clutching the pouch.
"Now then — the Sect Leader has even given us spending money and bade us eat our fill. Let us make a merry time of it today."
"Waaah!"
"The Sect Leader is the best!"
"Martial Uncle is the best!"