The Wanderer Returns
‘Heaven above.’
From atop the swaying palanquin, the king gazed at the dying sun.
He wished to savor, for as long as it lasted, the time he had left with his son. He wanted to stay at the boy's side so that his son could see with his own eyes the land he would one day rule, and the people who lived upon it, and so that he might display before them the full authority of a sovereign.
Yet now, in the third year of his reign—or eleven years of rule if one counted his father's regency—illness was gnawing away at his body.
Deep in his heart, he knew that the time remaining to him would not be long.
Not a single day passed without pain when he thought of the future that awaited his son at his side.
Suddenly, his body lurched.
"Father!"
The Crown Prince, along with the palanquin bearers and the attending officers, was thrown into alarm. Having righted himself, the king smiled faintly and spoke.
"I am quite well."
But there was something hollow in that smile, a loneliness seeping through it. Even the warm breath of spring, with the clear skies of the Qingming festival drawing near, could not drive the bleakness from the king's gaunt face.
Hong-wi urged him with a worried expression.
"Return to the palace at once, I beg you."
The palanquins bearing the king and the Crown Prince quickened their pace. If they hurried, they might yet reach the capital before the sun went down. A body already weakened by illness would fare poorly indeed against the cold night air.
Far off in the direction of the setting sun, the walls of Hanyang appeared faint and distant.
Bak Paeng-nyeon, Inspector of the Office of the Inspector-General, known by his courtesy name Insu, had left his office early for the first time in ages.
Ever since the passing of the great King Sejong, the peerless sovereign who had dominated his era, the whole nation had entered a solemn period of mourning. For men who lived on the state's grain, any lapse in conduct was unthinkable.
But when the three-year mourning had finally ended last month, vitality had returned to the court and to the streets of Hanyang alike.
It was for this reason that Bak Paeng-nyeon had decided, for once, to gather his dear friends and share a few cups of wine.
Geunbo—that is, Seong Sam-mun—and Cheonjang, Ha Wi-ji, were precisely those friends. The three of them had studied together as boys under Bak Paeng-nyeon's father, Bak Jung-rim, and their friendship went back decades.
"Master, a visitor has arrived."
"Oh, good. Who came first? Seong Geunbo, I'd wager?"
Bak Paeng-nyeon smiled at his steward's report. Cheonjang Ha Wi-ji was an upright and conscientious man, scrupulous even about punctuality—if he agreed to a meeting, he was never late.
Seong Sam-mun, on the other hand, was an easygoing friend who delighted in idle jokes. Whenever he was late, he always knew how to salvage the mood with some witty bit of humor.
‘If he's late again this time, what fresh performance will he have cooked up?’
Bak Paeng-nyeon actually found himself looking forward to Seong Sam-mun's tardiness.
But the steward's answer was not what he expected.
"Well, you see... it's some wandering traveler, Master. He says he knows you."
"What—knows me? Did he give a name?"
Bak Paeng-nyeon, who had been grinning at the thought of seeing his friends, tilted his head.
"He wouldn't give one. He said you'd know who he was if you saw him—that the two of you once studied together as fellow pupils."
"Really? Studied under the same tutor, with me?"
Bak Paeng-nyeon could not make sense of it. His old study companions had all risen to one post or another—there was no way he wouldn't recognize them. But could there truly be such a man?
‘Wait—!’
Suddenly a face surfaced in his memory.
Could it be him?
"Show him in. If he claims to know me, let me at least see his face."
The steward bowed and hurried off to the front gate. Bak Paeng-nyeon could not calm the pounding of his heart.
Was it really that friend? No—but after all these years without a single word, could he really appear so abruptly now?
And yet he had a fair idea of how his other childhood study companions had fared.
He saw the steward returning.
"Have you been well?"
Behind the steward stood a man in the garb of a scholar, smiling brightly.
"Good heavens!"
The exclamation burst from Bak Paeng-nyeon's lips. As the steward raised his eyebrows in astonishment, Bak Paeng-nyeon rushed out into the courtyard in his socks and strode up to the scholar, clasping his hands in his own.
"Jeong Ho-chan! It really is you!"
"Heh heh, it is indeed. It's been a long time."
Beaming from ear to ear, Bak Paeng-nyeon clasped both hands of the scholar called Jeong Ho-chan and rejoiced openly.
The steward's jaw hung open. The visitor looked like nothing more than an unremarkable country scholar, yet his master—an official of the junior third rank—had forgotten his own dignity to welcome the man so warmly?
"Far too long! Good heavens, how many years has it been? Let me think—you vanished before Geunbo and I passed the royal examination. Why, it's well over a decade ago by now!"
"Ah, Seong Geunbo. Now that you mention it, I wonder how that friend is faring."
"Faring well enough, I assure you."
Bak Paeng-nyeon nodded at Jeong Ho-chan's answer. Jeong Ho-chan looked around the house with fresh eyes and went on.
"Unchanged since the old days, I see. This is where we studied together, isn't it?"
"That it is. And you, man—twenty years, nearly, without a single word! What in the world have you been doing? You have more people wondering about you than you know. You remember Ha Wi-ji, of course?"
"As if I could forget."
"Even that quiet friend asks after you every time we meet—wonders what you've been up to. And that's not all. My father has been quite curious about your whereabouts as well."
"Heh heh. So Master Hanseokdang has not forgotten me."
Hanseokdang was Bak Paeng-nyeon's father, Bak Jung-rim, who had taught Bak Paeng-nyeon and his friends their letters when they were boys.
"Hey now, why do you speak of him like some stranger? My father never tires of saying you were the most brilliant of all the pupils he ever taught. And then you vanished without a word—how could he not wonder?"
"Ha ha, I am ashamed. Is the old master still in good health?"
"His strength is failing, but he's hale enough."
"That is a blessing. Truly, he was a demanding teacher. I can still see him clearly before my eyes. Ah—word reached me some years ago that he had been released from his exile in Yeosan and restored to office."
"Indeed, he has taken up duties at the Board of Taxation... But look at me! Standing about like this is absurd—come inside, quickly. You first, of course."
Only then did Bak Paeng-nyeon remember the steward. The man bowed and scurried away.
"I don't know what wind blew you back to us today, but whatever the reason, your timing couldn't be better. Things were dull, so I invited the old study companions for a modest drinking party. I've told Geunbo and Cheonjang to come once they leave the office—they'll be overjoyed to see you."
"Will they? Then today was indeed an auspicious day."
Jeong Ho-chan smiled broadly.
"Come, inside."
Bak Paeng-nyeon led Jeong Ho-chan into the men's quarters.
Jeong Ho-chan looked into every corner of the room. Twenty years and more had passed, yet it was exactly as it had been when they studied under Bak Paeng-nyeon's father here so long ago.
‘Nothing has changed.’
Jeong Ho-chan closed his eyes for a moment. The days when he had studied in this very house alongside Bak Paeng-nyeon, Seong Sam-mun, and Ha Wi-ji still felt near enough to touch. How fleeting the years were.
The rosy-cheeked boys of that time were now masters of their own households, and men of office who had become pillars of the state.
‘And yet, before the storms to come, all of this is nothing more than a spring dream in a single night.’
A bitter expression crossed Jeong Ho-chan's face.
Just then, the steward announced from outside.
"Master, Associate Scholar Ha has arrived."
"So Wi-ji hyung-nim is here. Late as ever—never fails."
Bak Paeng-nyeon called out cheerfully.
"Show him in! And bring a table of drinks and food as well!"
"Yes, Master!"
Bak Paeng-nyeon rose and opened the door to greet his guest. In stepped Ha Wi-ji, tall and clean-featured, with a stern, principled air about him. He was five years senior to Bak Paeng-nyeon.
Before the man could offer a greeting, Bak Paeng-nyeon got in first.
"Welcome, Cheonjang hyung-nim. Have a look at who's come to visit."
"And who would that—good heavens?"
The face of Ha Wi-ji, a man who was never easily surprised, wavered for an instant. His expression shifted rapidly from shock to delight.
"Ho-chan! It's Ho-chan, isn't it!"
"It is, Cheonjang hyung-nim. It has been far too long."
Jeong Ho-chan bowed with a bright smile. Ha Wi-ji, overjoyed, grasped both his hands warmly.
"Not dead after all—you truly did live to see us again. You are a heartless man, you know. Not one word in all this time? What in the world have you been doing?"
"That is a long story, hyung-nim."
And so the two old friends began to pour out years of pent-up reunion.
Bak Paeng-nyeon spoke up.
"Honestly, that Geunbo—late again today, of all days. He could at least have the decency to arrive on time today... Hyung-nim, didn't you leave the office together with him?"
Ha Wi-ji held his post at the Hall of Worthies alongside Seong Sam-mun.
"I did. He should be along any moment."
"Associate Scholar Seong has arrived!"
As if summoned by the waiting itself, the steward's report came flying in. Bak Paeng-nyeon laughed.
"Speak of the tiger and he appears."
The door opened and Seong Sam-mun entered. Of middling height, with a bold, outgoing air, he seemed positively thrilled about something. He cried out to his friends.
"Ahh, so everyone's here already! Listen, friends—you'll all be astonished when you hear what I learned today. On my way home from the office, I happened to overhear the soldiers who escorted His Highness the Crown Prince today, and let me tell you, it was the most curious thing. So here's what—"
"Geunbo! One moment!"
Bak Paeng-nyeon couldn't hold back. Seong Sam-mun was forced to stop mid-sentence.
"What is it?"
"First, have a look at who's already here."
"Honestly, what could be so—"
Cut off mid-sentence, Seong Sam-mun looked mildly annoyed, but the look did not last. The moment his eyes fell upon Jeong Ho-chan sitting in the room, they went round as saucers.
"This—this can't be real."
Seong Sam-mun looked back and forth between Bak Paeng-nyeon and Ha Wi-ji, his mouth hanging open. The sight was so comical that the other two burst out laughing.
"Am I dreaming this moment, or what?"
"You are not. This is very real."
Seong Sam-mun's gaze left his two friends and turned to Jeong Ho-chan. The next instant, he let out a great shout.
"Ahh—whose face is this if not Jeong Ho-chan's! What manner of goblin trickery is this?! Insu, my friend, where in the world did you dig this man up from?"
"I didn't dig him up from anywhere. He came of his own two feet."
Seong Sam-mun strode across the room and seized Jeong Ho-chan in a crushing embrace. He was a dignified man, but with friends he had this side to him.
"You wretch! You heartless wretch! We swore we'd enter official service together, side by side, and then you abandoned us and ran off! Where in the name of heaven have you been?"
"You've said everything I wanted to say myself."
Ha Wi-ji remarked with a smile, and Jeong Ho-chan nodded.
"And it would be quite a long story, at that."
"No matter, no matter. We intended to talk the night away regardless. Scholarly talk of the classics is all well and good, but let's hear about you for once. Ten years—no, closer to twenty now! Cut off from us all that time, you must have story upon story to tell!"
"Gladly. But first, shouldn't I pay my respects to the old master?"
"Of course—absolutely right!"
At Jeong Ho-chan's suggestion, all three answered as one.
They went to call on the old teacher, Bak Paeng-nyeon's father, the venerable Bak Jung-rim. Much aged but still hale and vigorous, the old man did not betray his surprise outwardly at the news of Jeong Ho-chan's return, yet he held the young man's hands in a tight grip for a long while.
Jeong Ho-chan simply bowed his head.
"Now, then—time to catch up properly, just the four of us."
By the time they returned to the men's quarters, the table had been laid out lavishly. During the national mourning such pleasures had been forbidden, and so the spread was abundant indeed.
"A poor welcome, I fear, for a friend returning after twenty years."
"For me, it's grander than a birthday feast."
Jeong Ho-chan laughed at Bak Paeng-nyeon's pleasantries, and the four of them began passing the wine around in easy fellowship.
Having drained his cup, Bak Paeng-nyeon took it upon himself, as host, to pose the first question.
"So then, Ho-chan. How have you truly lived all this time? Where have you been, and what have you been doing?"
"Oh, drifting here and there, broadening my horizons."
Jeong Ho-chan answered with a smile.
Seong Sam-mun exclaimed,
"What—a man as learned as you had things left to learn by wandering about with his own eyes?"
"Didn't the old saying go that learning has no end?"
"If you say that, what does that make the rest of us?"
Seong Sam-mun chided him lightly, then looked around at the others and pressed on.
"It's just us here—no point hiding anything, so speak plainly. Even back then, I always thought your learning was the finest among the four of us. You knew every classic inside and out, without so much as a stumble."
"Did I?"
Jeong Ho-chan only smiled quietly.
Bak Paeng-nyeon backed Seong Sam-mun up.
"He certainly did! Though, to be fair, Cheonjang hyung-nim being older than us, he's had more years to study—"
"No, Insu is right. Even I learned a great deal from you, Ho-chan, more than I can count."
Ha Wi-ji agreed in his quiet, measured tone.
"So—where did you wander, and what did those eyes of yours see?"
"Many places."
Jeong Ho-chan paused.
"Studying the old histories, I found myself asking: what, in the end, makes a hero? What is it that forges such men? So I began by traveling the Eight Provinces of Joseon—its famous mountains and storied ruins, tracing the footsteps of the great heroes of old."
"Mm."
"And then it occurred to me—what of the kingdoms and heroes the histories never recorded, the ones swallowed by darkness? In truth, the more I read, the more I saw that our ancestors had rich commerce and exchange with the Middle Kingdom and the lands of Wa. So I made my way through the land of Liaodong as well, and even set foot in the territories of the Yeoin barbarians and the islands of Wa. And among those lands, I spent some time in the territory the old kingdom of Goguryeo once ruled—what is now the land of the Jurchen tribes."