The Janggi Boom Meets Its Tempest
The Janggi boom is coming… coming…? The moment my meeting with Lord Xinling concluded, I summoned Nogucheon and ordered him to launch the merchant guild exactly as planned. Nogucheon acted at once. He had already believed I would win Lord Xinling over and had begun preparations before the talks even started. It was fortunate that things turned out well; had I failed to bring Lord Xinling in, we would have suffered a considerable loss. When I told him not to act so hastily in the future, Nogucheon replied that he had not moved without reason.
“There is a retainer under Lord Xinling named Mogong. He is a gambler of some renown. After entering Lord Xinling’s service he kept a low profile, yet recently he has been spotted in this area. That alone suggests Lord Xinling himself has taken an interest here.”
Nogucheon seemed intent on boasting of his intelligence network, but to me the words sounded troubling. It was not I who had been discovered, but Nogucheon. My visits to him had not been noticed; rather, he himself had been followed. When I recounted what had happened with Lord Xinling, the smile faded from Nogucheon’s face. Still, the matter was not entirely unwelcome. If anything, it meant we might soon share in the talents of Lord Xinling’s retainers.
In any case, the guild’s launch proceeded smoothly. Nogucheon liquidated most of his gambling operations and used the proceeds as capital. He hired skilled carpenters to carve Janggi boards and artisans to fashion the pieces. Both boards and pieces were produced in a wide range of materials—from inexpensive mass-produced sets made of ordinary wood to the rarest boards of lightning-struck timber, and from common wooden pieces to luxurious sets carved from ivory and even jade.
The guild began well. Thanks to Lord Xinling’s endorsement and the rumor that the game was his favorite pastime, sales doubled overnight. Until now an unspoken understanding had kept the upper nobility at Baduk while the lower classes played Yukbak, leaving Janggi in an awkward middle ground. Yet if the present trend continued, a Janggi craze that crossed all social boundaries was only a matter of time.
Would the game not be enjoyed only by one class because of status? The unspoken rule existed, yet nobles sometimes played Yukbak and commoners sometimes played Baduk. Even if only a few turned up their noses at Janggi, the majority would have no objection. From the start I had no intention of limiting my customers to a single stratum. Had I sought only profit, I would have targeted the nobility exclusively. My purpose in amassing wealth was to draw people in. To expand the pool of talent, I could not confine myself to any one class. If I chased only money and mingled solely with nobles, that would be putting the cart before the horse.
Lord Xinling himself had raised his reputation by associating with men of humble birth. Even I was working alongside commoners such as Jing Ke and Nogucheon. Once the guild was properly established, I would begin charitable works and host gatherings to polish my own image. I would transfer Lord Xinling’s goodwill to the guild and, ultimately, plant a favorable impression of myself. That was the grand design I had in mind for the merchant house.
Money earned and reputation gained. Two birds with one stone.
Lord Xinling would never guess the full scope of the scheme. Using the guild as an intermediary, I would siphon off a share of his prestige. It was a cold, mosquito-like plot. I truly have become a man of the Warring States.
If things continued this way, it was no longer a distant dream to solidify my position as crown prince before returning to Yan. Gold and manpower remained the most powerful instruments for seizing hegemony in any age. The skies were clear. After escaping the storm-tossed seas, I felt as though I had finally sighted a sunlit harbor. I spent each day in pleasant anticipation.
Yet the reef appeared where I least expected it and brought the ship to a sudden halt. I suppressed my smile at Han Gyeong’s breathless report.
“The Wei envoy has been killed!”
In that instant the promising new guild and the rising fame of Janggi were swept away by an unforeseen tempest, vanishing without a trace.
“This is an opportunity! We must use it to crush Lord Geonshin’s faction once and for all!”
Voices rang through Lord Pingyuan’s residence. The retainers offered their opinions on the crisis before their lord. The loudest view was the one Gongsun Long had just shouted: they should seize the moment to attack Lord Geonshin’s camp.
Though a Wei envoy had died, the relationship between Wei and Zhao itself was not in serious jeopardy. The murdered envoy’s status was somewhat unusual. The man sent by Wei was not an official of the Wei court but rather a wandering persuader who had temporarily been granted the envoy’s role after convincing the King of Wei. He was not a salaried official of Wei. Therefore, once he had achieved his purpose in Zhao, he reverted to the status of a private citizen rather than a Wei envoy. Had he truly been a Wei official, the King of Zhao would never have tried to lure him with the post of chief minister.
Originally borders meant little when recruiting talent, yet inviting an envoy away while negotiating an alliance would have raised questions of propriety. Thus, while Wei would find the murder highly displeasing, the incident was unlikely to escalate into a full diplomatic rupture. Still, the King of Zhao’s genuine affection for the envoy meant the matter would not be taken lightly. The culprit had to be found.
Gongsun Long therefore argued that they should pin the murder on Lord Geonshin, destroy him completely, and reclaim the post of chief minister for Lord Pingyuan.
“We still lack conclusive evidence that Lord Geonshin ordered the killing,” countered some of the more cautious retainers. Zhuo Yan, their chief spokesman, challenged Gongsun Long.
“Hmph. Direct proof may be absent, yet even the children in the streets know Lord Geonshin is the prime suspect.”
“That is precisely what makes it strange,” Zhuo Yan replied. “His Majesty has repeatedly shown he intends to appoint the envoy as chief minister. If the man is murdered, suspicion will naturally fall on Lord Geonshin. Lord Geonshin’s three talented retainers could not have failed to foresee that.”
Zhuo Yan’s reasoning was sound. Although Lord Geonshin was currently contending with Lord Pingyuan for the post, he was the de facto chief minister. Should the envoy accept the King’s offer, Lord Geonshin stood to lose the most. No one had a stronger motive to eliminate the envoy than Lord Geonshin. Even if Lord Geonshin himself did not see it that way, the world would. For him, striking at the envoy would only bring greater harm.
“Evidence implicating Lord Geonshin has already surfaced!”
“It could be a trap.”
“A trap? Very well, perhaps it is. But if we let this chance slip, who knows how long the power struggle will drag on? And how much time and resources will we waste trying to verify the evidence?”
Gongsun Long suspected Lord Geonshin might indeed have been framed, yet he regarded the sacrifice as necessary for the greater good.
“This is no time to be entangled in such trifles! We must end the factional strife as quickly as possible, unite the state’s will, strengthen the alliance with Wei, and prepare against Qin. Do you truly not understand how precious these days are?”
Whoever had assassinated the envoy to trap Lord Geonshin surely shared Gongsun Long’s purpose.
“Nonsense! To choose the perverse path when the proper one lies open!”
“Haha, are you going to lecture us on the principles of yin and yang again?”
“What did you say?”
At Gongsun Long’s mocking remark about the School of Yin-Yang to which Zhuo Yan belonged, Zhuo Yan leapt to his feet. Gongsun Long rose as well and began pacing before Lord Pingyuan and the other retainers as though delivering a lecture.
“Look at him, everyone! Not content with shielding the Prince of Yan, Ji Dan, and damaging our great cause, Zhuo Yan now defends Lord Geonshin as well! How can this be the conduct of a retainer who should be devising strategies for Zhao and Lord Pingyuan?”
“Quite right!” several retainers aligned with Gongsun Long shouted in support.
“Tell me, Zhuo Yan, are you truly Lord Pingyuan’s retainer? To my eyes you still look like an official of Yan.”
Before Zhuo Yan could reply, Gongsun Long delivered the final blow.
“A white horse is not a horse.”
The White Horse Discourse. Because the concept of “white” (color) and the concept of “horse” (form) were mixed in the term, a white horse was argued to be a separate entity from a horse.
“You, Zhuo Yan, appear much the same.”