Under a Sky of Falling Stars
Feeling mischievous, Ho-in decided to tease Cha Gyeong-yeon a little.
"Looks like seeing that Jin emperor's tombstone knocked the wind out of you, eh?"
"Don't say such things."
Ho-in flinched.
Cha Gyeong-yeon's answer was sharp, yet laced with sorrow. It was unlike him.
Sensing Ho-in's long, unblinking stare, Cha Gyeong-yeon finally gave a faint smile.
"Forgive me. You're right that it was an emperor's tomb — just not a Jin emperor's. Someday I'll explain the whole story to you. And to His Majesty as well."
"...All right, then."
Ho-in felt something strange stir within him. His eyes went back and forth between the tombstone sweeping past in the distance and Cha Gyeong-yeon's profile. Whose grave could that possibly be, to put him in such a state?
Utai, for his part, proved a guide every bit as capable as Iharachi. He ranged slightly ahead of the column, steering them toward good places to rest — shady, cool spots where springwater ran. Hong-wi, who never pushed the schedule too hard, seemed to have won Utai over, and the Jurchen shared his impressions with Iharachi.
"Any other caravan would just push and push, rushing down the road without a care for us guides or the porters. But that young master has real grace about him, I'm telling you."
"That's the truth. Seen it with me own eyes. A fine man indeed."
Iharachi laughed heartily at Utai's words. Utai fell silent for a moment, then glanced around before speaking again.
"To think the great Iharachi would praise a Joseon man like this... I'm astonished."
"Truth be told, a man'll lay down his very life for a master who truly knows his worth."
"Hm-hm..."
Utai studied Iharachi with thoughtful eyes.
"Tucheonggae says the very same, so there's nothing left to doubt. But this Temusi-i of yours — this Joseon man — is he truly a master worth dying for?"
"That he is. I've never once regretted it."
"Good."
Utai said nothing more.
A day passed, then two, then three. The road went on. To conserve their strength, they rested by day and traveled mostly by night. Darkness was treacherous ground for losing one's way or taking a fall, but Utai's guidance was flawless. With well-timed rests in all the right places, the porters' stamina and morale stayed high, and they even trudged along humming light songs under their breath.
No danger seemed to threaten them. Only Cha Gyeong-yeon looked somehow uneasy. Every time they made camp he barely slept, and more than once he rose in the dead of night and slipped away.
Ho-in asked him about it.
"Brother Cha, what ails you? You're sleeping poorly."
"Strange, isn't it? My mind just won't settle."
Cha Gyeong-yeon smiled, but even that smile seemed somehow unsteady. Ho-in tilted his head.
"What is there to be unsettled about? That guide Utai does his work beautifully. We've come this far without crossing a single soul—"
"That's it. Exactly that."
Cha Gyeong-yeon murmured.
"What do you mean?"
"The fact that there's no one. Has there truly been no one?"
"It's such remote country, isn't that reason enough?"
"That's fair. But something about it gnaws at me. As if someone were watching us."
"Watching us?"
Ho-in grew anxious at Cha Gyeong-yeon's words and scanned the surroundings. Hong-wi, who had been listening in silence, looked around as well.
"So that's it. Now that I think of it, I've felt that way too. Who do you suppose it is?"
"I can't say for certain. But if we are being watched, it's someone remarkably tenacious and careful. I dropped back from the column several times to search, and each time the presence vanished at once."
Hong-wi and Ho-in listened to Cha Gyeong-yeon with grave faces. Anyone else might have laughed it off, but they trusted Cha Gyeong-yeon's instincts — and they knew he was not a man who spoke without purpose.
Ho-in turned to look back at Iharachi and the porters.
"Do you think any of them have noticed?"
"Doesn't seem like it."
Cha Gyeong-yeon shook his head. Hong-wi spoke up.
"Could they be people from Anchuunbugu?"
"It's possible."
Cha Gyeong-yeon conceded the point. By every account, Anchuunbugu had kept its existence hidden for a very long time — hidden so well that even Joseon, obsessive as it was about gathering intelligence on the mountain folk, knew nothing of it. If so, it would hardly be strange for them to keep watch on strangers approaching their village.
"Even so, something about it puts me off. Until we reach the village itself, no one should let their guard down."
"Agreed."
From then on, an unbidden worry took root in Ho-in as well. Every time the column's line stretched long, every time they passed beneath a ridge or around the shoulder of a hill, an anxious thought gnawed at him from within.
Fortunately, nothing happened, and several more days slipped by.
Hong-wi gazed at the mountain range spread out between the rolling hills. Only days before it had been a faint blue silhouette in the distance; now it loomed quite near.
"By tomorrow we'll reach the borders of Anchuunbugu. As you can see — a fortress blessed by heaven itself, it is."
"So it is."
No map could have conveyed it. Seen with his own eyes, it was unmistakably a place fit for exiled royalty fleeing a fallen kingdom. The mountains ringing the village's outskirts were formidably rugged, and the single approach road lay utterly exposed to the slopes ahead. Anyone keeping watch would have spotted Hong-wi's party from far off — the village would have known of their approach long before they arrived.
"What magnificent scenery."
Ho-in exclaimed in admiration as he looked around. Then he addressed Utai, who had been surveying the area, in the language of the mountain folk.
"But it's odd, isn't it? We've come all this way and seen hardly a soul."
Ho-in's command of the mountain tongue had improved to the point of being passably understood. Utai answered.
"That's right enough. This whole region is sacred ground to our people. The Onyan clan hid themselves here for generations. Some say it's a mighty fortress; others say it's simply well hidden — a quiet, peaceful village. But so few have ever been inside that who can truly say?"
Utai answered Ho-in's unspoken worry without much thought.
"Though of late, bandits have been crawling about, so merchants like yourself, my lord, have grown few on these roads as well."
"So there are bandits here."
An undercurrent of unease ran through Ho-in's voice. Utai turned to look at him — and whether it was only his imagination, the man's expression seemed to hold something meaningful.
"There are. But so long as this Utai is here, you need not worry. In any case, we'll camp here for the night, and tomorrow we pass within the borders of Anchuunbugu."
"Why not travel on now, at night, as we've been doing?"
At Ho-in's question, Utai shook his head.
"The road has been kind until now, but no longer. It grows very treacherous from here, so it's better to move by daylight."
Having heard Utai's counsel, Hong-wi made his decision.
"So be it."
Night deepened. Ho-in lay with his arms pillowed beneath his head, gazing up at the sky. The heavens above their campfire were simply enchanted — countless stars glimmering and swaying, the fragrant scent of grass sharp and clean in the air. It was a landscape in which danger seemed impossible.
"A truly beautiful night. And nothing has gone wrong so far, at least."
"That's a mercy, it is."
Cha Gyeong-yeon replied, sitting upright and sweeping his gaze around the camp. His eyes had drifted to Iharachi's men keeping watch along the perimeter. Every one of them wore a sword at his hip — blades Jang Hui-sun had procured for them. Few caravans crossing to and from Jianzhou carried armament so fine; Iharachi himself had declared it beyond compare.
"Tomorrow we enter the borders of Anchuunbugu. Once we do, we can finally breathe easy."
"If we believe those men, anyway."
Utai — and Iharachi too — insisted that no bandits, however cruel or daring, would ever set foot within the borders of Anchuunbugu. As outsiders, Hong-wi's party could not feel certain of it, but the mountain folk evidently believed it without question.
The conversation lapsed. The three men each looked up at the sky in their own silence. Was this not a night of stars pouring down like rain? Gazing at them, it felt as though every worldly sorrow were drifting softly out of reach.
Hong-wi stared at the heavens as if bewitched.
"My Queen..."
He murmured it without thinking. Ho-in turned to look at him but said nothing. That unforgettable night rose before him — Lady Song's desolate face, the last thing he had seen in Yeongwol. Hong-wi felt the bridge of his nose sting. Beneath the light of a million stars, her image flickered into being, achingly faint, as though he might almost reach out and catch it.
He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand, then clenched his fist.
I will never forget your sacrifice. Never.
Then it happened.
A sudden, sinister presence — and a chill ran down Hong-wi's spine. Living among the mountain folk had honed his senses to a keen edge. He shot to his feet, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword.
"What is it, Your Majesty?"
Ho-in, who had been lost in thoughts of Old Man Cheon and Yeon-bi, jolted upright. Cha Gyeong-yeon too was already on his feet, scanning the darkness. Hong-wi murmured:
"I sensed something... suspicious."
"Suspicious, Your Majesty?"
Ho-in rose and looked around. After a long moment, he muttered under his breath:
"I sense nothing at all."
An ominous silence settled over the camp. In the distance, Iharachi's men were still walking their patrols around the encampment. They showed no particular wariness, as though they had felt nothing at all.
They couldn't feel that killing intent? Doubt stirred in Hong-wi's heart. Or perhaps I only imagined it?
Cha Gyeong-yeon wordlessly fed a log into the campfire. In the flickering light, his faintly knitted brow wavered and shifted.
"It doesn't seem to be anything serious."
Sensing Hong-wi's alarm, he answered before anyone could ask.
"You felt something as well, then?"
"Yes, I did. But it wasn't killing intent."
Cha Gyeong-yeon shrugged.
"Now that you mention it... yes, I did bolt upright in shock just now, but hearing you say that, it does seem you're right."
Hong-wi nodded. From his own hard-earned experience, he had come to know, if only a little, what killing intent felt like — from man or beast alike. And what he had felt a moment ago was somehow different.
"It may have been nothing more than a curious wild animal. Or perhaps a shepherd who spotted our fire and watched us for a while."
Cha Gyeong-yeon rose to his feet. The feeling he had just received was indeed markedly different from what had haunted him these past days — a gaze steeped in malice and bloodlust, pressing on him day after day. That constant unease had weighed on him, but a moment ago the sensation had been nothing like it.
"Perhaps. Still, better safe than sorry — I'll take a look around and come back."
"Go carefully."
Hong-wi lay back down among the grass. He turned over, trying to summon sleep — and hoping, even in his dreams, to meet his beloved wife again...
The stars of the night sky looked down upon him.
In the early hours before dawn, Ho-in's eyes snapped open. Cha Gyeong-yeon was there. The man noticed his gaze and smiled.
"Awake already? You were sleeping soundly!"
Ho-in gave an embarrassed grin.
"Anything happen in the night?"
"Nothing at all. Though there was something... ambiguous."
"Ambiguous?"
Ho-in tilted his head. Cha Gyeong-yeon's instincts were sharp; never once had the man given so vague an answer. Cha Gyeong-yeon nodded slowly.
"The killing intent we've felt these past days... it's gone. Strange, isn't it?"
"Is that not a good thing?"
"One would hope so."
Cha Gyeong-yeon gave an ambiguous smile and shrugged. He had no wish to unsettle Ho-in needlessly — but the truth was that the sudden disappearance of a killing intent could mean one of two things: either whoever hunted them had given up and moved on, or they had finished their preparations for the attack and were lying in ambush somewhere, waiting.
As if to shake off the dread, Cha Gyeong-yeon forced his voice bright.
"Go on, see to His Majesty."
Hong-wi was with Utai and Iharachi. Arms crossed, he listened to Utai.
"If you go up that hill yonder, a welcome party from Anchuunbugu will be waiting. That was the agreement."
Utai pointed at the hill before them. It stood with an unobstructed view in every direction — the highest ground for miles. Certainly, from there, Hong-wi's party's approach over the past days would have been plainly visible.
"I see. But the road looks rather rough."
Hong-wi narrowed his eyes. The path up the hill was narrow and winding — barely wide enough for two grown men to pass shoulder to shoulder. Their column would inevitably stretch into a long, thin line.
"Yes. If we set out now, we'll reach the top around noon. We must leave now to climb it before the sun beats down upon the slope."
"Hmm. So be it."
Hong-wi gauged the distance to the crest and accepted Utai's counsel. Once the sun climbed high, the climb would tax not only the porters but the packhorses as well. The sooner they moved, the better.
Utai turned to Iharachi.
"Let's the two of us go ahead."
"Right you are."
Iharachi, who had grown quite friendly with Utai over the past days, nodded.
"Hey, Tucheonggae. Take command in my place."
"Understood!"
The two men took the lead and began climbing the hill. By the time their figures had faded from view, the main column set out as well.
The hill road was far harsher than it had looked from a distance. From midway up, even Hong-wi, Ho-in, and Cha Gyeong-yeon had to dismount and walk. The sturdy packhorses and oxen, too, slowed with every step. And as the sun began its rise in the eastern sky, the porters' backs grew steadily wet with sweat.