Gwanghakwon: The Crown Prince's First Lessons
I came down to Cheonan on the weekend for Gwanghakwon. It was because I'd received an acceptance letter from Johns Hopkins, and I needed to discuss studying abroad with my parents.
"Dad, Mom. I got accepted into a two-year research fellow program at Johns Hopkins University in Maryland, USA."
"We never heard anything about you preparing to study abroad."
"I had a lot of shortcomings, but Professor Yi Dong-hui from Inse University helped me out. He said he's from the Anpyeong Daegun branch of the Jeonju Yi clan."
My father's eyes changed. No doubt, branches of the family genealogy were branching out in his mind.
Mom spoke up. "Are you connected to An Gyeon, the one who painted Banbyeokjeondo?"
"Yes. That's how we got connected."
All of this was the product of the butterfly effect. Because of Gatong, I started thinking about studying abroad, met a descendant of Anpyeong Daegun, and thanks to his help, I was heading to America.
Dad said, "That's good. I won't oppose it."
"You're not inheriting Cheonan Foods anyway..."
Over dinner, I casually asked my father, "Dad, what's the most important thing when teaching students?"
"You're not even a professor, just a research fellow? Anyway, consistency is key. Just one thing, every single day. Do you know what 1.01 to the power of 365 is?"
No idea. "It's 37.78. Even just adding 0.01 a day multiplies it by 37 times after a year."
If he hadn't put it in numbers, it would've been incredibly motivating.
Every day. Sorry, Yi Hong-wi.
Back home, I checked the curriculum Gomin-seok had sent that morning. Mathematics, physics, biology, chemical engineering, metallurgical engineering, civil engineering, architectural engineering. It was structured to build foundational knowledge in each of these seven fields before advancing to major studies.
I began revising it in Joseon style. Mathematics became sanhak. A quick search revealed that surprisingly, quintic equations existed in Joseon mathematics. If King Sejong's era was the golden age of sanhak, King Munjong would handle it well.
Physics and earth science were bundled into nyeokhak, biology fell under concepts in traditional medicine, so I replaced it with uihak. Civil and architectural engineering stayed as is. Chemistry became yeongeumhak, metallurgical engineering yageumhak.
After deleting subjects with knowledge nonexistent in Joseon, I compressed Gomin-seok's 10-year, three-days-a-week curriculum into a 5-year, seven-days-a-week plan. Then I hit send file.
Munjong's reply came quite late. Was he reading the curriculum?
Now there was one more person in Joseon I had to feel sorry for. Number one: Suyang Daegun. Number two: Crown Prince Yi Hong-wi.
The Crown Prince Yi Hong-wi's daily routine changed in mid-August. It was after his schedule at the Crown Prince Tutorial Institute ended, as he was heading to the Investigation Bureau.
"Today, His Highness commands you to go to Gwanghakwon."
The instructor spoke, and the Crown Prince asked back, "What is Gwanghakwon?"
"This humble servant does not know well either. Someone from Gwanghakwon has come."
The official guided him to Gwanghakwon. A signboard reading Gwanghakwon hung there. Opening the door, his aunt, Princess Jeongui, smiled at the Crown Prince.
"Auntie!"
Princess Jeongui had looked after her nephew, who lost his mother early, since childhood. The daughter King Sejong cherished most and Sejong's most cherished firstborn grandson. There weren't many people with whom the Crown Prince could let his guard down. Jeongui was different. In front of her, he wasn't the Crown Prince—he was just Hong-wi.
"Your aunt has become the superintendent of Gwanghakwon and your sanhak teacher. Since it's the first day, let's start with something fun."
Jeongui drew a three-by-three grid on the sandboard—nine squares total.
"Put the numbers one through nine, one in each square. The sums of the rows, columns, and diagonals must all be equal."
It was a magic square. The Crown Prince peered at the sandboard and picked up the stick. He wrote numbers and erased them repeatedly. Princess Jeongui watched silently.
The Crown Prince thought, Five is the center number—maybe put it in the middle?
Once he placed the 5, the rest started to fall into place. One and nine, two and eight, three and seven, four and six. Adding up the rows, columns, and diagonals—they all equaled 15. His eyes sparkled as he looked up.
"Auntie, is this right?"
Jeongui checked each one. "Yes, it is."
The Crown Prince beamed. Jeongui said, "How about trying a four-by-four grid next—sixteen squares total?"
Before he could answer, she laughed and drew the grid on the sandboard. He picked up the stick, but this one was harder. Sweat beaded on the Crown Prince's forehead.
"Think from the center again this time."
After writing and erasing several times, the Crown Prince completed the magic square.
He didn't hate the classics and histories taught at the Crown Prince Tutorial Institute. He knew his father, King Munjong, valued learning them. But what he learned from Teacher Choi Gong-son was just a bit more fun. Today's sanhak lesson from Jeongui was the same.
Read the numbers, understand the principles, and the result follows.
The Crown Prince preferred the world of metallurgy and sanhak, where answers—results—existed.
Princess Jeongui smiled at him and said, "Hong-wi, that's enough for today. Next time, the other royal grandchildren will join us too."
"Thank you for today's lesson, Auntie."
The Crown Prince hesitated a moment, then added, "Auntie, there's this iron we got from Yeongwol. I named it baekcheol. It's heavier than regular iron and doesn't melt in fire."
"Such a thing exists?"
He continued, "I was thinking the white color might make it glow."
Jeongui covered her mouth and laughed heartily. "Glow? How could iron glow?"
The Crown Prince laughed too. Even to him, it sounded absurd. Among the things brought from Yeongwol, only the baekcheol stuck in his hand—he couldn't let it go.
The next day, Suyang, accompanied by Han Hwak and the envoy entourage, visited Munjong's private chambers. His steps were unsteady, as if his legs had given out, and dark circles lingered under his eyes.
"Your Highness, we shall go to Ming safely."
Suyang's voice was hoarse.
"Is Suyang not well? Why is your voice like that?" Munjong asked as a brother, not as king.
He had no idea it was because, a few days prior, he'd allowed Jeon Sun-ui to dispense the hwaryeok-tang.
"No, Your Highness. I simply couldn't sleep from excitement about the envoy mission."
That wasn't it. Suyang recalled last night. Just thinking about it made cold sweat break out.
He was in the outer quarters when Yoon-ssi came in with the tonic, saying it was good for the body. He downed it in one gulp.
To think that tonic was the hwaryeok-tang His Highness takes. Demanding three months' worth of nightly duties upfront—what nerve for a woman to play the role of a tribute bearer.
They headed to the inner chambers, and every half hour, he had to down a bowl of hwaryeok-tang. He only returned to the outer quarters at dawn. Without sleep, he'd come straight to Gyeongbok Palace.
Then Munjong's healthy complexion caught Suyang's eye. Though he'd stopped inspecting Gyeongbok Palace six months ago, he still heard palace news fastest from outside.
I hear Brother visits Gyotaejeon every night. The concubines and court ladies are green with envy.
Munjong said firmly to the Minister of Personnel, "The envoy seems unwell. Load plenty of nourishing food for the road."
As soon as they left the chambers, Suyang staggered, and Han Hwak supported him.
"My in-law, you look terribly unwell. Can you even make it to Ming like this?"
Suyang didn't reply. What had collapsed wasn't his legs—it was his pride.
Even stamina—Brother is a step ahead. Now, the only way I surpass him is through effort.
Suyang resolved to overcome with hard work and left Gyeongbok Palace.
After Suyang's group departed, Munjong sat alone in his chambers, sipping tea. He recalled Jeongui's visit a few days ago. She'd written recommendation letters in the name of a Joseon princess for using biru and mianji. The concubines would promote Joseon products.
Jeongui has been clever with numbers since childhood. She'll be a great help this time too.
But Munjong set down his teacup, thinking the wind for this envoy mission would blow from elsewhere. The hwaryeok-tang he'd sent to Suyang was the last batch left in Joseon. Until the new batch in a month, he'd have to rely on his own stamina.
Two months' worth of hwaryeok-tang will surely capture the Emperor's heart.