The Face Reader on the Pass
"A flute...?"
"Yes, my lord. A flute ground from crane bone."
Hong-wi felt the tension drain from his entire body all at once.
"You play the flute as well?"
Ga-ryeong offered no reply. He simply raised the flute to his lips.
A faint, sorrow-laden melody echoed quietly into the night sky.
At the mournful tune that seemed to caress his very heart, Hong-wi felt his eyes grow moist once more before he knew it.
Wolgung would surely have stopped her hands in the middle of grinding herbs, and wept, had she heard such a melody.
When the song ended, Ga-ryeong slowly lowered the flute from his lips.
"Truly masterful."
Hong-wi spoke with genuine admiration.
For this one moment, thoughts of whose man Ga-ryeong was, or why he had followed him here, were blown far from his mind.
What history, what hidden depths, did this man carry within him?
Yet Hong-wi did not particularly wish to ask. Every man kept stories in some corner of his heart that were better left untold, and Hong-wi was in no position to pry. What would knowing change, anyway?
"I would love to hear such music again, but I suppose that won't be possible."
"It should not be difficult, my lord. I will be attending you in Yeongwol for some time to come."
Ah, so that's it, Hong-wi thought, nodding inwardly.
So in the end, he had been assigned to watch me.
And yet, strangely enough, a sense of relief settled in some corner of his heart. At the very least, Ga-ryeong felt—how should he put it—rather more human than Eo Deuk-hae and his men.
Ga-ryeong brushed the dust from his sleeves and rose to his feet.
"You should retire to your quarters, my lord. We have a long road ahead tomorrow as well."
"...I suppose I shall."
The moon was drifting slowly toward the western sky.
The party pressed onward along the road to Yeongwol. One positive development as they drew farther from Hanyang was the change in the common people's attitude toward Hong-wi. Unlike the politically sharp-tongued citizens of the capital, the simple country folk were far removed from such calculations.
People murmured as the palanquin carrying Hong-wi passed by.
"There's the young king over there. Driven out by his own uncle, they say."
"Ah, the poor child. So young, too."
Each time the escort procession passed through a village, those who had heard the rumors came crowding out to weep, and some even pressed toward the palanquin trying to offer food and water.
Eo Deuk-hae and his men, naturally, found this anything but pleasing.
"Back off! Back off, all of you!"
Deuk-hae drove the party onward without pause, while Hong Deuk-gyeong and Kim Ja-haeng shoved away, time and again with cruel blows, the commoners who clung to the palanquin. Because of this, the people could only grieve for Hong-wi in silence, unable to openly come to his aid.
But when night fell, small offerings would sometimes appear near his lodgings—fernbrake rice, herb cakes, little morsels of food left by unnamed hands.
Hong-wi was grateful for those small kindnesses from people whose names he would never know.
Before long, the escort procession reached the border of Gangwon Province. Crossing the punishing mountain passes had worn down not a few of the horses and men alike.
Kim Ja-haeng made a suggestion to Eo Deuk-hae.
"Sir, there's forest shade just up above."
"Forest shade?"
Having suffered through the heat for so long, Deuk-hae's ears pricked up at once. The next moment, however, he wrinkled his nose.
"We still have far to go—we really must hurry... Ahh, ugh."
Whatever his words, Deuk-hae's own longing for a rest had grown desperate. It was true: several of the soldiers, worn down by the scorching heat, were dragging their feet, and the horses, exhausted, were lolling out their tongues.
Kim Ja-haeng spoke again.
"Sir, the whole column is exhausted. Let's rest a while before moving on."
"...I was warned before we left the capital that there might be reckless elements out to restore the deposed king. How would I know they aren't hiding somewhere right here?"
Deuk-hae glanced about nervously, as though such men might be lurking just beside them.
"That may be, sir, but if everyone wears out like this, what strength will we have when it truly matters?"
"Well... that's fair enough, I suppose."
Deuk-hae smacked his lips.
"Fine. As you say, we'll rest up there and be on our way."
When Kim Ja-haeng shouted ahead that they would rest briefly, a spring returned to the soldiers' steps.
Before long, they climbed to the crest of the pass.
Eo Deuk-hae gripped the reins and brought his horse to a halt. Two travelers were sitting there, resting.
"Who are those men?"
"Hard to say..."
Hong Deuk-gyeong tilted his head. Kim Ja-haeng offered his assessment.
"They don't look like constables, sir. The one there is dressed like a gentleman, and the other like his servant. Perhaps some idle rover out sightseeing?"
"A rover?"
Deuk-hae frowned.
"What should we do?" asked Kim Ja-haeng.
"Take two soldiers and bring those men here. It's only two of them—question them, and if they're nothing, there's nothing to worry about."
They were fifty men, after all.
"Understood."
Kim Ja-haeng hurried over to the travelers with two soldiers. The men raised no fuss whatsoever and obediently followed him back.
"And who might you two be, coming this way?"
Deuk-hae looked the travelers up and down as he asked. The scholar appeared to be in his thirties, with a pale, refined face; his dress was immaculate and carried an air of distinction. At a glance he was clearly no country pedant nor any idle gentleman sponging off his family—more like the son of some prominent house. Beside him came a youth in a bamboo cap, holding the scholar's horse by the brim, his expression cheerful, his attire as neat as his master's—perhaps because he took after him.
The scholar came before Eo Deuk-hae, bowed long and formally, and introduced himself.
"This humble one bears the surname of Jeong of Dongnae and, as you see, travels the eight provinces with a single servant in search of auspicious ground—for the purpose of finding a burial site for my parents."
"Hah, searching for your parents' graves. Commendable devotion, truly."
Deuk-hae stroked his beard and returned the pleasantry as mere formality.
The self-proclaimed Master Jeong turned halfway toward him and asked, "And where might you be traveling?"
"We were just about to go see Tangeumdae in Chungju."
"I see."
His mind at ease, Deuk-hae concluded there was nothing suspicious about them. He shouted to the soldiers to rest a while and headed toward the shade; Master Jeong sat down facing him. The servant beside him swept the soldiers with sharp, searching eyes.
After some conversation with the scholar, Deuk-hae was genuinely surprised to find the man surprisingly well-versed in the affairs of Hanyang's great houses. Only, having apparently not drunk Hanyang's water in a long while, he seemed to know little of what had been happening in the capital recently.
"My grandfather's generation retired to the countryside, but our ancestors held office for generations. By now, though, I am nothing more than a rustic villager."
"In times like these, that might be the more peaceful lot."
Deuk-hae said it without much thought, waving a hand to shoo away the gnats.
Seizing a lull in the conversation, Master Jeong glanced toward the palanquin and spoke up.
"By the way—whom do you have in your charge there?"
"Er..."
"It's the procession of Lord Nosan, being exiled to Yeongwol."
Kim Ja-haeng replied without thinking.
That blabbermouth... Deuk-hae shot him a glare, but the water was already spilled.
The scholar tilted his head. "Lord Nosan? Who is that?"
"You don't know? He's the one deposed this time on charges of treason."
"Ah!"
Deuk-hae shot a warning look. Kim Ja-haeng mumbled an excuse.
"Well, even the villagers in every town have known by now, haven't they?"
"I see..."
The scholar murmured. Because Deuk-hae had been busy glaring at Kim Ja-haeng, he failed to study the scholar's expression closely. Well, that's what comes of a country gentleman so ignorant of capital affairs—no wonder he's startled. Preoccupied with that assumption, Deuk-hae never noticed that the scholar's eyes had taken on a meaningful glint.
"I-I wonder—might I be permitted to behold his face, just once?"
"What? Didn't you hear what I just said? He's implicated in treason!"
Deuk-hae raised his voice in sheer disbelief. Then he saw Master Jeong draw something from his breast. Deuk-hae flinched for an instant—but what emerged was a silk pouch.
"These are valuables I set aside to spend in an emergency."
Deuk-hae eyed the pouch. It looked fairly weighty.
"I studied physiognomy from an early age, and to read a king's face once was my lifelong wish. Yet never once have I beheld a sovereign's countenance, and that has galled me. Deposed he may be—yet for a time, he was still a king, was he not?"
"Well, that's true enough, but—"
"Consider it a matter of granting me my lifelong wish. Let me read his face just once."
"Ahem."
Deuk-hae cleared his throat, mentally weighing the pouch the scholar held out. Oh, what does it matter anyway? They were far from Hanyang, and with fifty soldiers standing guard, what could two men possibly do? He glanced at the palanquin.
As if to smooth the way, Han Ga-ryeong happened to be absent. Well then, let's see about earning ourselves a little pocket money.
"Don't do anything that could be held against you."
Deuk-hae warned, sliding the silk pouch away. Master Jeong bowed his head.
The two men approached the palanquin.
Hearing the situation, Hong-wi nodded indifferently, as though listening to news of no concern to himself whatsoever.
"Very well."
So young in years, and already seemingly detached from whatever the future held.
Deuk-hae offered the scholar a parting word of caution.
"We must travel far before the sun sets today, so don't waste the time idly."
"Thank you. However—to read his face and divine his fortune, common hands must not be present. Might you be able to step aside?"
"That's a difficult request..."
"What is it now?"
Damned pest... of all the times. Deuk-hae grumbled inwardly as he turned back to Han Ga-ryeong and explained the whole affair.
"Hm."
He'll say no, I suppose...
Deuk-hae felt a flash of irritation at himself—him, a First Counselor of the Central Secretariat, deferring to the judgment of Ga-ryeong, a man who was no official at all, merely some idle rover. But there was nothing to be done. The man's backing was simply too solid.
"So long as it's nothing out of the ordinary, I see no objection."
"If you say so, then..."
Deuk-hae squared his shoulders as if pleased with himself.
He leaned toward the palanquin and whispered to Hong-wi.
"Just in case—don't harbor any strange notions, my lord. You wouldn't want to bring calamity down on an innocent man's house, would you?"
"I know."
Hong-wi answered briefly.
Deuk-hae and Ga-ryeong withdrew a good distance away, but the soldiers' eyes never left the palanquin.
Hong-wi looked at the scholar.
"So—you said you would read my face."
"I did."
The scholar first performed a formal bow with clasped hands and gave his name.
"This humble one's family name is Jeong, and my given name is Ho-chan. It is an honor to be granted this meeting, Your Highness."
"You are doing something that will bring you great trouble."
Hong-wi waved his hands as well as his head in refusal.
"If you value your life, do no such thing. I have already been cast down from the throne and demoted to a mere prince. Jeong of Dongnae, you said? One misstep, and I fear you may drag others of your household into ruin."
His tone was calm, his voice clear and dignified—he showed hardly a trace of being cowed. Jeong Ho-chan felt a warmth rise in his heart. Even after being cast down into the abyss like this, the bearing of a sovereign has not lost its light.
"I am but a wanderer drifting like tumbleweed across the eight provinces, living by my palate. Have no fear."
"Even so."
Hong-wi stole a glance at Deuk-hae and his men in the distance. He worried that these guileless, innocent folk might somehow come to harm for nothing.
"Very well—you came to read my face. I learned long ago that in the Confucian way, divination and such arts were hardly held in esteem, yet today it is a gentleman like yourself who urges it upon me."
"I beg your pardon. But the sage King Mun, Master Confucius himself, worked with the Book of Changes, and even the ancient sages did not disregard omens. Moreover, as the saying goes—bearing, speech, letters, judgment—does not reading a man's countenance stand among what cannot be left out when judging a man?"
"Hm. True, the Book of Changes is used in divination today, but it was not, after all, a book written for such purposes."
Hong-wi smiled a tranquil smile, though doubt lingered in his eyes.
"I cannot know what you mean to look for... but very well. Consider it a matter of fulfilling a lifelong wish, and I shall let you look."
"I am deeply honored."
Only now able to observe Hong-wi properly, Jeong Ho-chan studied his features with care. He prayed silently within.
The face is broad of jaw overall, generous and elongated—a countenance with the power to draw people together, with a temperament that throws itself eagerly into scheming undertakings. As for the principal frame of the face, the features are comparatively distinct, even comely. From between the brows down to the philtrum the line runs clean and unobstructed, though somewhat dimmed—an indication that calamity has lately befallen. The lack of flesh upon him is also a small regret. The forehead, too, is not narrow, yet not open and expansive—again a somewhat wanting aspect. But the fundamental structure is by no means poor. The eyes are slightly narrow and long, like a phoenix's—the fortune of a born sovereign, without question. Yet even they carry sorrow. The brows are thick and swept upward, and the lips are pressed firmly together—inwardly he is resolute; he has the spirit to endure hardship and carve his way through it...
Having taken in the whole of the face, Jeong Ho-chan reached his conclusion: the fortune was dire, and it would be difficult to escape a violent death within a year or two—yet if he could only evade it, he showed every sign of being capable of a great enterprise.
He stole a glance at the old monk. Nothing of his thoughts could be read from his expression.
Hong-wi asked, "Well then—what do you see?"
"I am sorry to say... Your Highness."
Jeong Ho-chan hesitated deliberately, as though the words were hard to continue.
"It appears... it will be difficult for Your Highness to escape the misfortune that awaits."
Of course it is, Hong-wi thought. He had gone and heard what he need not have heard. Driven from the throne and sent into exile—what was that, if not calamity itself?
Then Jeong Ho-chan opened his mouth.