Prince Anpyeong's Visit and Christmas Respite
Prince Anpyeong had arrived early that morning. As the start of the week, I steeled my resolve once more, recalling yesterday's events. Taking a moment to catch my breath. The work I was doing as a second-year resident in the present. The work I had to do for Munjong in the past. With my determination renewed, I was about to send a Gatong message to Munjong when my phone rang.
"Doctor, the patient in Room 9—her SpO2 has dropped."
I bolted. Doubting whether heaven itself was testing my resolve.
The patient in Room 9 was a woman in her mid-50s who'd recently undergone leg surgery. Her oxygen saturation was at 88%. Already in the danger zone for hypoxemia.
"How long has she been like this?"
"She started complaining of shortness of breath suddenly about 30 minutes ago."
I pressed my stethoscope to her chest. Lung sounds were relatively clear on both sides. But her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her pulse was racing. Glancing at her leg, I saw slight swelling in her right calf. Pulmonary embolism flashed in my mind. Deep vein thrombosis after leg surgery, with the clot traveling through the heart to the lungs. Miss it, and the mortality rate approaches 30%.
I ordered a D-dimer test, leg ultrasound, and CT pulmonary angiography. While waiting for results, I started anticoagulants. Wells Score: 7 points. D-dimer: 1200 ng/mL. Leg ultrasound confirmed a thrombus in the right femoral vein. CTPA showed a massive clot in the right main pulmonary artery. The right ventricle was enlarged—signs of right ventricular failure. Massive pulmonary embolism.
Blood pressure was still holding, but SpO2 kept dropping. I called the attending physician, got orders, and began thrombolytics. Right after starting the infusion, her blood pressure fluctuated. On the verge of shock. I ramped up norepinephrine. Two hours later, SpO2 climbed from 88% to 92%. Pulse stabilized. Color returned to her face.
"Keep a close eye on her. Call if there's any sign of bleeding."
Not an easy case for a second-year resident. We'd passed the crisis, but it wasn't over. I'd have to watch her all night.
Finally catching my breath, a Gatong message arrived.
My third younger brother has come to see me.
What? Yesterday it was Prince Suyang, and now Prince Anpyeong today?
Suyang followed by Anpyeong. Two days in a row. Coincidence, or something Munjong intended?
Like yesterday, I compiled info on Prince Anpyeong, blending my historical knowledge with internet search results. Calligraphy, poetry, painting—excelling in all three, he was called one of the Three Excellences. Following Zhao Mengfu's Song-style script yet surpassing it, he created his own unique Anpyeong style. Ming envoys would rush to him begging for inscriptions. Even the Ming Emperor was said to have marveled.
Munjong was also a master calligrapher. The annals record officials trying to copy his handwriting as models. And Munjong had cast bronze type using Anpyeong's script: the Gyeong-o-ja. His older brother had officially made his younger brother's handwriting the national typeface.
I paused my scrolling. They say calligraphy captures the essence of the person. And since Munjong himself was a calligrapher, he had the skill to infuse his own spirit into it. Perhaps Munjong wanted Anpyeong's script preserved in the kingdom's printed works.
Mongyu Dowon-do, too. In 1447, Anpyeong dreamed of wandering Peach Blossom Paradise and described it to artist An Gyeon, who completed the painting in three days. House of Wise Men scholars like Bak Paeng-nyeon, Seong Sam-mun, Sin Suk-ju, and Jeong In-ji added prefaces and poems.
Anpyeong was surrounded by the era's greatest scholars. Bihaedang at the foot of Inwang Mountain—his residence, where he composed poetry and prose with Sin Suk-ju, Seong Sam-mun, Yi Gae, and Bak Paeng-nyeon, leaving the Bihaedang 48 Poems.
Those names jumped out: Sin Suk-ju. Seong Sam-mun. Yi Gae. Bak Paeng-nyeon. The very people composing poetry with Anpyeong at Bihaedang right now.
Sin Suk-ju would side with Prince Suyang after the Gyeyu Rebellion. Seong Sam-mun, Yi Gae, and Bak Paeng-nyeon would become the Six Martyred Ministers.
These men writing poetry together now would one day be torn apart. They didn't know it yet.
After the Gyeyu Rebellion, Suyang burned all of Anpyeong's works, calling them grotesque. The lifetime achievements of one called the Three Excellences vanished by his brother's hand. Anpyeong himself received poison in 1453, at age 36. He was 33 now.
I looked away from the screen. Munjong had tried to preserve Anpyeong's script in national prints. Suyang had tried to erase it. The Gyeong-o-ja were melted down right after the Gyeyu Rebellion, replaced by Eul-hae-ja. Anpyeong's type thus disappeared.
I searched the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty for Gyeong-o-ja.
The King asked Right Deputy Minister of State Kim Yeong-gyeon, "What type are you using to print books these lately?" He replied, "Cast in the Gapin and Eulhae years. But nothing printed better than the Gyeong-o-ja, which was Anpyeong's script, so it was destroyed. We were ordered to use Gang Hui-an's instead, creating the Eulhae-ja."
Kim Yeong-gyeon. Couldn't find birth/death dates, but he passed the civil service exam under Danjong. Printing was best with Anpyeong's Gyeong-o-ja—until Suyang had it scrapped.
I opened Gatong.
I stared at Munjong's reply for a long time. Those not excessively grave endure longest. Not mere personality assessment. It meant he intended to use Anpyeong long-term—as a check against Suyang.
I, a sick man, think too much.
I set my phone down. No warning needed. Munjong already knew. That Suyang was dangerous. That Anpyeong must be his counter. That Hwang Bo-in and Kim Jong-seo needed to stay near Danjong. Munjong's lifespan was the fulcrum of that balance. As long as he lived, it held. Anpyeong painted. Kim Jong-seo guarded the north. House of Wise Men scholars attended royal lectures. Sin Suk-ju and Seong Sam-mun were still allies.
December 23, Tuesday. On call today. The Room 9 patient had been stable since yesterday, no major issues. The ward was hectic from morning; I barely ate lunch. Only in the evening did I find time to message Munjong.
Doenjang was already being served from the royal kitchen. Jeon Sun-ui and I were aligned. He might not know the concept of probiotics, but experience guided his prescription. Gut microbes regulate immunity and aid macrophages in devouring TB bacilli. Doenjang's beneficial bacteria supported that pathway.
> Probiotics confirmed. Doenjang included in Jeon Sun-ui's current prescription. Inter-consultation verified.
Midnight had passed. Tonight's on-call was tougher than expected. Two ER admits plus ward management. Dinner was a convenience store sandwich. Lying in the on-call room staring at the ceiling, I pulled out my phone.
I hesitated. How to explain Christmas to Munjong? No way to really explain it.
Munjong, who knew nothing of Christmas, sent holiday well-wishes. Luckily, on-call today meant time tomorrow evening. My girlfriend had reserved a restaurant two months ago. Residency life: always late, breaking, or canceling dates. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Laden with guilt, I'd planned a special event. This Christmas Eve mattered deeply to me. Late, break, or cancel? She might unleash a rebellion fiercer than Gyeyu. That's why I'd warned Munjong of two days' silence. And from tonight's chat, one day without Gatong would be fine.
Next morning, post-on-call, changing in the locker room. Gatong from Munjong.
Queen Hyeondeok again. Dazed in the locker room, I pondered. Winter night, Gyeongbokgung. Second and third brothers visited. I skip Gatong citing holiday. And he recalls her. That must be Munjong's emotional flow now.
Gathering courage, I resent the exact message from before.
No reply for a long time.
I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas with my girlfriend. Time so joyful I naturally forgot hospital and Munjong. The event succeeded.
December 25, past 9 PM, back home. As I lay down to sleep, Gatong alerted.
I was startled. 'Understood.' Munjong often said it, but when he did to me, it usually meant permission or acceptance. First time for ventilation advice. For persistent Bosin Exercises. Was this the same?
Half-joking, half-serious, I asked again.