Last Dance - 1
I quietly tilted my cup while watching Han Jung blather on noisily.
"Who do you think that kid takes after? He handles business so sharply and decisively!"
"Indeed."
"And at his age, he's already first-rate. He's got talent in martial arts too—it's just that his literary skills outshine his martial ones!"
"That's true."
Of course, staying silent the whole time might provoke some unknown reaction from the old fool. So I found myself reflexively spitting out responses to every word he said.
Damn bastard.
Even as I kept murmuring "indeed" and "true," my insides churned with irritation. Barging in since morning just to brag about his grandson—who doesn't have a grandson?
I don't have one like that.
Regrettably, I didn't have a grandson who resembled Han Jung and his grandson-in-law to that extreme degree.
How on earth did a grandson who looks so much like him even get born?
I swallowed a sigh that threatened to burst out, forcing it down with alcohol. I'd realized it back when he bared his teeth at Koke Temur at Jiayu Pass, but sure enough, my grandson-in-law hadn't just inherited Han Jung's blood—he'd taken it full strength.
His actions in Namyeong this time were enough to make anyone brag that he was Han Jung's grandson.
Ruthless in the process if it served the goal. Flipping the table on anything he deemed wrong, no matter who objected. Yet steadfastly upholding the lines he set for himself.
Anyone could see it was Han Jung. The young Han Jung. Han Jung from the founding wars. The Han Jung of today. He resembled them all too perfectly.
He did do well.
What drove me even madder was that, while mirroring Han Jung's style, his methods and results were impeccably clean. With Namyeong rotten through with corruption, mobilizing the Namyeong Guard aggressively and by surprise was the right call. Prioritizing the capture of criminals over hard evidence was bold. And as punishment for bypassing procedure, Namyeong was normalized in one fell swoop.
That's why it infuriated me. If the outcome had been a mess, I could've scolded him. But with everything turning out perfectly, how could I tell him to hold back next time?
I had no grounds to stop my grandson-in-law from living as the second Han Jung.
Horrifying.
Before long, my head began to throb. In a few decades, Han Jung would finally grow old and die. And when he did, the second Han Jung—my grandson-in-law—would be mature, seasoned in bureaucracy, a political monster.
"Hah."
A sigh escaped me involuntarily. Even the straightforward, unfiltered Han Jung was like that—imagine a second Han Jung schooled in politics.
Probably a monster unlike anything I'd seen before.
My future looked bleak, yet I felt a sliver of relief. By then, I'd be dead and gone. At least I wouldn't have to witness the monstrosity.
"Hm? A sudden sigh?"
"Thinking of how my kids must have suffered in Namyeong brings it out naturally."
"Heh heh, can't blame you. Our Un went through it, and his wife must have too."
I glanced at the chuckling Han Jung, then tilted my cup again. I had plenty to say, but no need to voice it. Picking a fight with a clearly pleased Han Jung would just tire us both out.
...He did do well.
And truthfully, I was satisfied with my grandson-in-law's handling of things. No matter how I looked at it, it reeked of Han Jung's heavy influence—but a job well done was a job well done. If I didn't acknowledge my own grandson-in-law, who would?
He hadn't tolerated bureaucratic corruption. He'd grieved and raged over the people's suffering. The proper attitude for an official who must serve the realm and its subjects.
"Oh, speaking of which."
As if something had just occurred to him, Han Jung leaned forward slyly and continued.
"If our kids made it to Namyeong, next up is Gyeirim, right?"
"Probably. Easier to travel that way."
"Visiting Gyeirim wraps up all of Guangxi."
I nodded matter-of-factly. It was obvious. Unless we were checking every county and prefecture, hitting Shiwandaishan, Namyeong, and Gyeirim covered Guangxi.
"Then they'll head back to Kaepyeong soon. Time to prepare the wedding."
"The wedding."
I set my cup down at Han Jung's words. The wedding—between my Yeon-i and that grandson-in-law of his. Everyone already treated them as husband and wife, but this would make it official.
"Does it have to happen?"
"Are you drunk already?"
Han Jung shot me a look like I'd lost my mind at my offhand slip of true feeling. Infuriating. Of all people, getting that expression from him. If anyone between us was mad, it was obviously him.
"Just saying."
But unpleasant or not, I couldn't argue back. Even I knew it sounded insane. I wasn't backing out of the engagement now. It was regrettable that Han Jung's blood ran so thick in my grandson-in-law, but not enough to reconsider the marriage.
It was just... my Yeon-i leaving my side. Living not as Ak Wangga's granddaughter, but as Giwangga's grandson-in-law. That was what saddened me.
How could I send my precious Yeon-i off to another house? I'd known it would come someday, prepared my heart for it—but now that the moment loomed, an indescribable emptiness crashed over me. Worse than when I sent off my own daughters.
Yeon-i was always my sore spot.
Truthfully, I knew why I felt this way, why I cherished Yeon-i so deeply. A Hwagyeong master like me hadn't noticed his granddaughter's suffering. Hadn't seen her teetering on a perilous path under immense pressure. Hadn't prevented the qi deviation disaster.
She was already my lovable, adorable granddaughter—qi deviation on top of that? Of course my heart ached. Caring for her as her mobility worsened, I'd come to take her presence at my side for granted. Assumed she'd always be there.
Now it's time to let her go.
But Yeon-i had risen again. Recovered from the qi deviation's aftermath, regained her mobility, and returned to the martial path. Thanks to no one else but her fiancé.
Because Han Un had willingly yielded the Publicly Acknowledged Oil Stone to her.
Now he can be the one by her side, not me.
Han Un had become Yeon-i's pillar, the foundation letting her stand tall again. No one was more suited to be her husband. No matter how I thought about it, no one was better.
Especially after finishing his Central Plains pilgrimage—he'd stay in Kaepyeong.
...He'll stay in Kaepyeong, right?
He wouldn't dash off again for some other reason, would he? If they held the wedding only for the couple to live apart or wander the provinces, nothing could be sadder.
Namyeong was gradually recovering from utter ruin. Second and third waves of personnel arrived to fill the administrative vacuum, and the censor-in-chief's executioner's axe danced gleefully over the corrupt officials.
It was flashy and swift enough to make any spectator sway their shoulders. If something like an executioner's axe dance existed, the censor-in-chief would be its supreme master.
But her axe was reserved strictly for officials. The village clan head and his kin weren't handled by her—they were shipped to Kaepyeong for higher judgment. Not even Gyeirim, but Kaepyeong itself.
The emperor had declared his firm intent to judge the clan head personally.
Getting a look at the emperor before dying counts as a successful life.
I smiled contentedly, imagining the clan head now entering Hunan. A mere frontier notable getting to face the emperor—what greater honor or joy?
Considering the millions of scholars challenging the exams just to glimpse his face, the clan head had lived a winning life. A criminal buying officials with money in life, etched in the emperor's memory in death.
His name would live forever in history, no doubt.
Let's not live like that.
Obviously—a textbook case of what not to emulate. I still couldn't believe it. Born a local power, why not just enjoy your wealth and die peacefully? Why court death with overreaching ambition?
Dying after blowing your fortune wouldn't be so bad.
"Right?"
- Kki-ing!
- Kki-ong!
Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i nodded with soft cries at my words. Yeah. I figured you'd get it.
You've traveled the Central Plains with me and Jo Wi-cheo, so you know how precious a peaceful life is.
"Just hang in a bit longer, and we'll head to Kaepyeong. Bear with it."
So I stroked their necks, offering comfort and encouragement. Almost there. Just Gyeirim, and this tedious pilgrimage ends.
No more leaving a perfectly good home to roam the provinces.
I've moderated the meds too, so once we're in Kaepyeong...
Plus, for a more peaceful Kaepyeong life, I'd fudged the report to the emperor just right. Retirement? Fat chance, so I gave up on that. But I did lead the crackdown and bypassed procedure—true. As a royal grandson, not an official, manhandling civilians? Also true.
I'd laid out all those misdeeds in detail for the emperor. He couldn't avoid punishing me.
But with merits to balance it, he'd likely offset功 and fault, calling it even.
That dodges the promotion.
No merits, no horrific fate as Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief, third rank.
No instant "you're promoted" upon return to Kaepyeong.
I wasn't ready to shed the Left Vice Inspector label yet. My current post was already too much—higher up? Might as well say "drop dead."
Even Huo Qubing died young after a meteoric rise. I had no intention of becoming Daesong's Huo Qubing.
Didn't have the talent for it anyway. Without Grandfather as my backer, I wouldn't even be a censor escort, let alone Left Vice Inspector.
In the end, it's all because of Grandfather.
A flicker of resentment toward him rose, then faded. As Giwang's grandson, I lived richly and peacefully in the 14th century. A penalty like this? I'd bear it.