Bobusang (2)
At the time of King Cheoljong’s accession, Joseon had to resort to all manner of propaganda just to exalt a illegitimate son who could hardly even be called royal blood.
The auspicious energy of Namsan that Jeong Won-yong reported was one such example.
The same went for the record written after Cheoljong’s death.
As with any other king, they had to contrive some flattering tale—if he had once cried out “ah” as a child, then surely His Most Exalted Majesty had already been speaking German by his hundredth day—but since he had grown up as an exiled criminal, there was hardly any material to work with. It must have been a dreadful task.
And yet Joseon’s ministers pulled it off.
<At the age of fourteen, when his family fell upon hard times and he went to Gyodong and Ganghwa … he encountered a violent storm at sea, and though the situation was extremely perilous, he comforted the people without fear. … Soon they arrived safely, and those on the boat said, “There was surely someone aboard this vessel whom Heaven was protecting.”>
By calling it “hard times,” they smoothed over the fact that they themselves had sent him into exile, and by not going so far as to claim that Cheoljong had literally calmed the storm, they preserved a proper Confucian restraint against absurdist superstition. Then, to finish, they slipped in a perfect sentence suggesting the joint endorsement of Heaven and man.
It almost made me think of Christ’s story of not fearing even the storm on the Sea of Galilee.
And when I combined that with the later record that, upon his enthronement, a flock of sheep supposedly poured out from Yanghwajin and knelt before him—were there really that many sheep in Joseon?—I almost had to suspect that the court had a Christian spy somewhere among them.
But from this point on, no one could laugh at the king for using some sort of miraculous shortcut.
If Yi Won-beom truly ascended the throne as history said he would, there were now two witnesses who could testify to this miracle.
Yi Won-beom’s uncanny luck was more than enough to suit a king’s seat. Why, even a temporary farmhand in a private estate had been made to display such wonders.
The peddler boy and the boatman sat there staring blankly, and in one voice they muttered, “Good heavens…….”
* * *
What I heard from a spirit had to go to the grave with me.
There was no way I could tell those two, who were looking at me with such awed faces, that the Mountain Spirit had been spouting this cheap nonsense at the river.
[Hey, River God, why don’t you show your face and get out here? Are you going to stop this or what? What’s that? You say this formal ritual of showing majesty to humans is absolutely necessary? You bastard. Since when have you been a spirit? Do you even know who I am? As I thought—did you come from the bottom of the river as a turtle? You got chosen without any lineage or test, like some petty local clerks who live forever just because they’ve outlasted everyone else?]
The more I learned about the spirit business, the more I began to doubt the entire universe. Was there even labor discrimination among the gods too? Unbelievable.
I couldn’t hear whatever answer this so-called River God gave him.
All I knew for certain was the aggravating fact that the Mountain Spirit was still very much alive.
[Shall I tell the mountain gods to bring down that cliff and turn this place into the late-Goryeo Yeseong River, where even tributary ships couldn’t enter? Do you want me to remind you why the capital was moved four hundred years ago?]
I glanced up at the sky, hoping, just maybe, that the Jade Emperor would strike this bastard—not me—with lightning and wipe him out cleanly.
But justice in this world had long since died.
What burst through the clouds was not a thunderbolt, but sunlight. The raindrops and waves, which had already been losing spirit, now went still, leaving only a faint aftertaste of their passing.
* * *
Taesu let out another grand, theatrical sigh, then shoved his paddy hat down again and flopped heavily onto the prow.
“Let’s go.”
But despite his words, they still couldn’t set off at once.
The boatman barely managed to snatch back the oar before it could drift away, and the peddler boy scrambled across the deck and clung to Taesu’s back as if he were hanging on for dear life.
“No, no. W-what in the world just happened? I’m not some old fool who judges the year’s harvest by the clouds, but I was born in Songdo, and I know the weather on the Imjin River like the back of my hand. How could that storm suddenly settle down like fox rain? What exactly did you do?”
Taesu was too lazy to make up some elaborate explanation. So he simply told the truth.
“Must be the help of a god.”
The boy’s eyes flew wide, his mouth hanging open behind Taesu’s back.
As with Yi Won-beom, that was an explanation Joseon people tended to swallow whole.
Besides, the notion that a human who received such a miracle must therefore be the god’s chosen intermediary was just as common in the East as it was in the West.
* * *
The boatman jumped ashore the moment they tied up on the northern bank and came hurrying after them.
Then he handed back the canola oil from Won-beom’s family that he had taken as fare.
“Since it seems Heaven is watching over you, I couldn’t dare covet a profit out of fear. Please take it as payment enough for my own life.”
I could hardly answer properly, because the Mountain Spirit’s smug little coughs were far too loud.
Once they left the ferry landing, the boy peddler, who had been silent until then, finally spoke.
“There’s always a nummak—a tavern—where boats come and go. Since your clothes are wet, you should dry them in the side room before you go. I also have something to discuss.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Unlike the fellow with the waterproof pack, I was in a pretty miserable state. I wanted to change clothes as soon as possible.
A side room was basically a hastily built annex at a tavern.
And by “hastily built,” I mean the floor and walls were just smeared over with mud and called finished. I felt like I’d seen this kind of thing in some museum special exhibit on the Stone Age.
It was basically a multipurpose room—used as storage, or, if need be, generously offered to people who didn’t intend to stay in the communal lodging room.
The boy was still as quick as ever. He took two wooden drying bars—one for his own clothes and one for mine—plus a bronze ruler, tied them skillfully with rope, and in no time had erected a pretty respectable drying rack. If he went into the Korean army, they’d probably adore him.
“Please hand over your jacket and trousers.”
Having said that, I sat with my legs stretched out in nearly nothing but my undergarments. I even tossed in the modern clothes I’d worn beneath them to save space in my pack, and he seemed fascinated by that too.
By the time we came in, there was also a bowl of makgeolli each on the woven mat, evidently prepared after he’d said something to the tavern keeper.
I naturally picked up the bowl, took one sip…… and then set it down with only my lips touched to it. Damn it. These people really had no food safety laws and were just running wild.
Instead of the bowl, I looked at the boy.
“All right. What did you want to discuss? Are you looking for help choosing goods to trade?”
That was what I expected. In a sense, he was my senior in the trade, after all.
“Haha. I’ve picked up a few things here and there. Songdo has brassware, hats, combs, ginger, and oil, but……”
“But?”
“I wouldn’t recommend them much. Songdo is where such goods gather from all over the Eight Provinces and sell at high prices. If you want to buy cheaply, you should go where those goods are specialty products. In other words, brassware in Anseong, ginger in Jeonju, and combs in Yeongam.”
In other words, don’t buy wholesale at the convenience store and try to pass it off as a bargain. Hmm. Fair enough. Then Songdo’s specialty would be……
“If it’s a Songdo specialty, it’s ginseng. But ginseng isn’t something allowed to us peddlers unless it’s smuggled ginseng. So don’t rush—take your time and look around.”
Good thing I’d sold the ginseng to Kim Dae-geon early.
[Your intonation changed oddly when you said “smuggled ginseng.” Could that fool have realized what you did to those middlemen in Ganghwa? If he’d gathered scraps of gossip here and there, it wouldn’t be hard to figure that much out.]
For a moment I’d wondered if he was about to awaken into a true god, but seeing how stupid he was as always, I felt relieved.
I shook my head.
I’ve been thinking that since the first time we met. But if he were going to denounce me, he would’ve run off already. And if he wanted revenge, he could’ve just quietly shoved me in the river earlier.
More likely he was a runner for someone opposed to those ginseng brokers. The enemy of my enemy was my friend, which meant he probably had a favor to ask of me.
The boy casually pulled one of my waterproof matches out of my bag.
“I don’t know if this will be of use, but I came here as a peddler to trade salt for tobacco. Tobacco is the lightest and most expensive thing a peddler sells. Try it.”
He then took out a pouch wrapped in oil paper, stuffed it into the pipe with practiced ease, and lit it. Right. At this point, underage smoking in Joseon barely seemed more shocking than a quaint local custom.
[That’s no ordinary tobacco. If I’m not mistaken, it must be Seongcheon fragrant tobacco, an imperial variety among the finest Seocheo tobacco in Joseon. I’ve heard of silk-thread tobacco, but the color really is exquisite.]
Is it expensive?
[Only if you’re giving it to me.]
So that was how it was. The boy took a few puffs to get the pipe going, then held it out to me.
Kim Sun-won had done the same thing, so I supposed it was a local gesture of hospitality. That made it even more awkward to refuse.
When I took it and smoked, the taste was surprisingly mellow and fragrant, probably because I’d been told it was expensive. It still couldn’t compare to the modern cigarettes I kept hidden in my pack, but compared to this damned makgeolli, it was aristocratic.
But even that small pleasure didn’t last long.
[Hah. You lecherous bastard. You’re breaking the rule already. You refused when a man offered it before, so what, did it taste sweeter because a woman had held the pipe?]
I ended up spitting out the smoke.
According to the boy—no, according to the Mountain Spirit—the woman looked at me in confusion.
“Are you all right? If tobacco makes you sick, there’s no cure for it.”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”
She tilted her head and took the pipe back from me, putting it to her lips again.
No, I’m not some middle-schooler from the ’90s; I don’t care that much about that sort of thing. I was just surprised because I hadn’t expected it at all.
Hanbok isn’t clothing that reveals the body. Looking again, she still seemed like just a kid. She was small, and because she rarely had to hold her head up around merchants, a paddy hat and a head scarf were enough to conceal her.
[She’s the sort who knows exactly where people look. A woman with guts. With those lazy eyes of yours, you could’ve slept next to her for a hundred nights and still not noticed.]
Then how did you know?
[Divine perception.]
What nonsense. It was probably just experience from all the fraud he committed when he was alive.
Thinking back on the conversation, it seemed this bastard had known all along and just hadn’t told me. The day I finally manage to separate myself from you, I swear I’ll judge you on behalf of the helpless common people.
I glanced at the drying rack.
If I suddenly grabbed my clothes and used them to cover her, it would only look suspicious.
I decided to let it go. Since she looked so unconcerned, I guessed it was fine in Joseon.
[It’s not fine.]
I’m not believing a word you say anymore.
* * *
There would be no reason for a woman to disguise herself as a man just to become a peddler—unless she were trying to enter Seonggyungwan.
Because it was a job women could do too. As with all class-based societies, even an occupation looked down on by the upper classes was generously open to those lower on the ladder.
There were plenty of women merchants among the Bobusang. That was why the rule of not touching women’s clothing existed, and why the stern command had been passed down that men must not step over a woman peddler’s abandoned straw shoes.
Of course, as with Germany’s Basic Law, Article 1—“Human dignity shall be inviolable”—every country tends to make its most frequently violated clause into its grandest principle. The Bobusang were no exception. It was dangerous, yes.
But if the purpose of the disguise had been safety, then she should never have approached Taesu in the first place.
[Exactly. You look like the sort of bastard who’d make even a man afraid of being ravished. There must be some hidden scheme, or else it wouldn’t make sense.]
I’m thinking, so could you shut up for a second?
[Why not just beat the whole thing out of her and ask later? So what if the goblin Ol-dol-gol schemes up some cunning trick—what kind of thinking are you doing anyway?]
I told you before. That “hidden scheme” is exactly what I want. My business has to start by getting a lead from her. I’ve already got a rough guess at her identity, so keep your mouth shut.
The Mountain Spirit, defeated in intellect by Old Dol-gol, shut up at last. Satisfied, Taesu opened the conversation.
“The tobacco tastes good. Are you telling me I should handle this tobacco too?”
The woman took the pipe from her mouth and said, “The tobacco fields in Pyeongan Province are usually run by merchants who advance money beforehand. I could introduce you, but if you try to step in now, you won’t get much out of it.”
By this point in Joseon, the concept of a gift economy already existed. Songdo merchants would agree on prices in advance the year before the harvest and collect commercial crops like ginseng and tobacco.
“Besides, peddlers usually do their business from stalls or shops, so if you’re coming to Songdo, you’d first need to get introduced to the Falgasan Chagim Room and build ties with the clerks and saekjang officials.”
“You mentioned the Chagim Room in front of the soldiers earlier. Do you have some connection? If you just let every drifter and nobody in, there’d be no end to it.”
“That is true. Which is why I was thinking—you could first visit a wealthy household where I work as a bang-a, some kind of servant. I can put in a good word for you, and if you receive even a letter of introduction there, things will go as smoothly as a royal road. That’s the discussion I meant. We should make a good connection while we have the chance.”
This was the moment right now.
Taesu lifted the makgeolli and drained it in one gulp.
The woman looked slightly startled. Taesu’s face had turned terrifying from the liquor’s taste.
Exercising grim self-control so he wouldn’t spit it out, Taesu slammed the bowl down.
“A wealthy household, huh. You mean Cha Un-hong’s house?”
The woman hesitated for a moment, then asked back, “Why do you think that?”
“You said you heard the story in Ganghwa’s inn quarters. Then you must’ve heard that I had Cha Un-hong’s promissory note. If you came after me knowing that, it’s obvious.”
“Then there’d be no reason to chase you all the way here and tell you to go to the Cha family’s house, would there? You were going to go there to exchange that note anyway.”
“No. There may be merchants who’d go to Songdo just hoping to make an acquaintance with Cha Un-hong, but there’s also the chance they’d simply exchange it for cash and leave. They even said they’d redeem it in Ganghwa’s inn quarters. Cha Un-hong wanted me to come straight to her house.”
Taesu focused on the fact that the note’s previous owner was Kim Dae-geon.
If Cha Un-hong had written a note to Kim Dae-geon, then it was unlikely she had no idea what sort of man he was.
And Kim Dae-geon had vanished at Seungcheonpo together with the ginseng brokers of Gaeseong.
The brokers were clearly one of Cha Un-hong’s hostile factions, but intelligence about the enemy was as important as intelligence about one’s allies, and Kim Dae-geon still had unpaid investment money tied up in this.
From Cha Un-hong’s perspective, she had to meet Taesu, the only clue left to her.
And the reason she had sent someone after him was to prevent any leak from Taesu. The only person who would have such a motive was, naturally, Cha Un-hong herself.
The Mountain Spirit looked genuinely stunned this time, as if he were watching Old Dol-gol unleash a divine and demonic genius all at once.
[Good heavens, how did you deduce all that? So even the mind of a villain is known best by another villain?]
The eyes of the former fraud victim and mass murderer locked squarely onto the so-called “spy of Cha Un-hong.”
“If this is for both our sakes, then let’s speak plainly. As long as you’re not trying to cheat me with some petty con, I’ll help. But if you keep trying to deceive me, I’ll kill you right here and I’ll kill Cha Un-hong too. What does Cha Un-hong want from me? Who are you? Are you Cha Un-hong’s daughter?”
The last line landed like a sudden slap across the face.
The woman removed her paddy hat.
Her face was revealed, but no glossy hair tumbled down in some dramatic, drama-like flourish. In any case, both unmarried men and women in Joseon wore braided hair.
Still, Taesu felt as if that sort of reveal had taken place anyway.
“You really are a sharp one. I wasn’t wrong about you.”
“…….”
“But I am not Cha Un-hong’s daughter. Nor am I a servant girl or a concubine.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am Cha Un-hong.”
This time, Taesu truly nearly spat out the liquor he’d drunk.
Even the Mountain Spirit let out a groan.
[There are plenty of ladies in Songdo who make fortunes from moneylending…… but isn’t this child too young to even be considered bangnyeon, twenty or so?]
For once, Taesu agreed. Even in modern Korea, it would have been hard to find someone like this.
But he had no time to verify that suspicion.
Cha Un-hong answered his first question immediately.
“What I want is you. I’ll make you earn hundreds of millions, so come work with me.”
Author’s Note
1. In premodern Joseon, when one said “yang,” it often meant goats rather than sheep. And there is no record that Cha Un-hong was a woman.
2. It has been argued that, in the late Goryeo period, sediment piled up at the mouth of the Yeseong River, making it difficult for transport ships to enter, and that this was one of the nonpolitical reasons for moving the capital to Hanyang.