Beijing
Beijing.
Namgung Jin, Young Master of the Namgung Family, stared at the words written in the report and still could not believe them. He read them again. And again.
W-wait. So that means…
“We have learned that a party led by Dang Hui-yeom of the Sichuan Dang Family and Sama Yun of the Sama Clan is traveling toward Beijing.”
“Therefore Steward Byeon Jun-seop—who the hell does this man even serve? Anyway—this fellow, intending to blunt the Sichuan Dang Family’s momentum, used his influence over the water-transport brokers in Chongqing to obstruct their arrangements for passage to Wuhan.”
Yes. Up to here, that was understandable. He could accept it.
“However, it turned out Dang Hui-yeom was traveling in answer to an imperial summons bearing His Majesty’s jade seal. The man then declared that the obstruction of his travel arrangements constituted an act of lese-majesty—a delusional assault upon the Emperor—and coerced the county magistrate into arresting Byeon Jun-seop…?”
Not knowing the summons existed was still plausible. Their paths might simply have crossed.
But to take a little interference with a boat booking and immediately brand it lese-majesty—what kind of mind does that?
Namgung Jin felt his senses swim.
An imperial summons was exactly that—a summons. It was not some sacred relic that continuously conferred special authority. The moment Hui-yeom set foot in Beijing its effect would vanish, and all that would remain afterward would be the vengeful grudge of a Namgung Family whose cheek had been slapped raw.
This was not even a matter of political calculation. It was something any person with ordinary common sense ought to grasp.
“Could he already harbor a grudge from the grain-merchant affair last time…? No. No, no, no. Even so, this is too much.”
In truth the grain-merchant business was nothing worth nursing a deep hatred over. In trade, far worse blows were exchanged every day. If you treated every such incident as a blood feud, you would never survive the demon-filled world of Central Plains commerce. Even the Namgung Family could not afford to make enemies of every merchant under heaven.
So the grain affair could be written off as nothing more than a light probing fist that had happened to connect. But this time? This was deliberately seizing someone by the collar and cracking them across the face.
Even if the Namgung Family had given them the opening first, to go this far?
And that was not the end of it.
From the next line onward… was this even proper Chinese?
“…After dragging Byeon Jun-seop in, he spun an exaggerated tale that the Namgung Family was plotting the extermination of the Sichuan Dang Family. When Byeon Jun-seop admitted his guilt and tried to negotiate, Hui-yeom said the man’s face simply ‘pissed him off,’ then bargained to settle the matter with only five strokes of the rod?”
Namgung Jin, who considered himself a man of common sense, could not comprehend it. If the other party had been some infamous wastrel from the start, perhaps. But the Young Master of the Sichuan Dang Family—the prodigy credited with saving his house—was capable of something this shameless and high-handed?
“Could this be a strategy of feigning madness while remaining lucid? No. Even so, this is like playing with fire beside a barrel of oil. If our house takes it seriously and a fight truly breaks out, what then?”
Here a misunderstanding rooted in the difference in their mutual understanding took shape.
Hui-yeom had accurately gauged the Namgung Family’s position. The Namgung Family, however, could not help retaining the prejudice that no matter how gifted Hui-yeom might be, he was still only a boy who had not even reached twenty.
In the end, just as Hui-yeom had intended, Namgung Jin reached a conclusion laced with that misunderstanding.
“Youthful hot blood, is it? And a mad dog that might do anything once his eyes turn red.”
Using cheap language like “pisses me off” while mocking Byeon Jun-seop, then haggling over a beating—there was no interpretation for that except pure provocation. And the meaning of the act was crystal clear.
I am not afraid of the name Namgung! That was what he had wanted to shout.
Yes. Exactly the sort of thing a boy of that age would think of.
Once the thought reached that point, Namgung Jin actually felt relieved.
“No matter how brilliant his commercial talent, he is still nothing more than a green youth who cannot master his own temper… Perhaps there is no need to be so wary of him after all.”
He took up his brush.
“In that case there is no need to clash with them now and give the world the impression that the Namgung Family is persecuting the Sichuan Dang Family. Leave a fellow like that alone and he will strut about on his own arrogance until he trips and falls.”
He issued instructions to the entire Namgung Family and all its subordinate merchant houses: until further notice, direct provocation against the Sichuan Dang Family was forbidden.
By the time Hui-yeom had passed the Grand Canal and reached the final stretch of the overland road to Beijing, the order had already spread through every merchant house under the Namgung banner.
And so Hui-yeom bought the Sichuan Dang Family the early time it needed to advance into the Central Plains.
Beijing.
The greatest city in the Central Plains, the chosen city where the Emperor resided.
Most of the Dokwadae warriors had never once set foot outside Sichuan soil, and so they had carried a vague yearning for Beijing. That was why, the moment they actually arrived—
“Whoa!! So this is Beijing! The greatest city in the Central Plains!!”
“How prosperous must it be?!”
—they could not hide their disappointment at a reality that failed to match their imaginations.
“The roads… they’re not even paved?”
“No aqueducts, no fountains either. Do they just haul water from wells?”
“Over there—by the edge of the road in the back alleys—the stench of shit and piss is thick…”
“Plenty of people and buildings, sure, but it’s chaos.”
“Hey, do they even do food delivery around here?”
They were forced to realize, all over again, just how livable Sichuan and Seongdo had become.
“Whoa. Seongdo in Sichuan was actually insane, huh?”
“Well, the Young Master did change a lot of things.”
“We lived inside it and watched the changes happen gradually, so we never noticed. Coming to Beijing like this, the comparison hits hard.”
The Dokwadae commander, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke.
“All right, settle down. From this moment on, any talk comparing Sichuan and Beijing is forbidden. If someone nearby overhears and picks a fight, we’ll be in trouble. It might wound the pride of the Beijing folk, so restrain yourselves.”
“Yes, sir!”
The people of the Sama Clan, who had experience traveling to and from Beijing, remained unfazed. Sama Yun smiled brightly and spoke to Hui-yeom.
“Look—someone from my family is waiting.”
A middle-aged man in black robes embroidered with the white qilin that symbolized the Sama Clan stood waiting at the crossroads. The instant he spotted Sama Yun he approached and bowed.
“Young Mistress, it has been too long.”
“Steward Nam! Three years already! Is Great-Uncle in good health?”
“Of course. His Excellency the Sirang seems to grow younger by the day. Ah—and this gentleman is…?”
When Steward Nam’s gaze shifted, Sama Yun beamed and answered.
“Yes. My betrothed. Young Master Dang Hui-yeom of the Sichuan Dang Family—the Green Dragon of the Frontier.”
“A pleasure. I am Hui-yeom of the Sichuan Dang Family.”
Hui-yeom offered a courteous greeting, and Steward Nam hastily returned the courtesy.
“Good heavens, this is too much honor. I am merely a retainer—there is no need to treat me with such formality.”
“How could I do otherwise? Haha. Incidentally, just now you mentioned that Yun’s great-uncle holds the rank of Sirang…?”
“Ah, yes. He currently bears the heavy responsibility of Hobu Sirang.”
“Oh. A remarkably high office.”
“Ahem!”
Sama Yun gave a little shrug of her shoulders, looking thoroughly pleased.
Hobu Sirang—in twenty-first-century terms, something like the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Strategy and Finance. The second-in-command of the powerful department that held the nation’s purse strings. Direct comparison between a modern civil servant and a third-rank official of this era was imperfect, yet imagining the sheer weight of that authority was not difficult.
“I had heard the Eight Great Families of the Empire hold every important post, yet that seems not entirely true?”
“Not entirely. The true key posts—the Ministers of the Six Boards, the Chief and Deputy Grand Secretaries of the Cabinet, the Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate—are all firmly in the hands of the Eight Great Families.”
“And the Hanlin Academy?”
“The position of Grand Academician of the Hanlin Academy is rotated between the Jegal Clan and our house, and factional rivalry within it is fierce.”
“Anything else?”
“The Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Imperial Guard fall largely under the influence of the Yang Family of Beijing and the Peng Family of Hebei.”
“I see.”
Hui-yeom felt he understood the outline well enough. Before coming here he had already received a rough education on the road from Sama Yun.
The Eight Great Families of the Empire were the houses of meritorious subjects who had played decisive roles in the founding of Daegyeong. Because the founding Emperor had failed to purge them, they had inherited generation after generation a degree of power strong enough to check the imperial authority itself—they were, in effect, the empire’s co-rulers.
“First let us go pay our respects to His Excellency the Sirang. I would be grateful for your guidance. How should I address you?”
“Please simply call me Steward Nam.”
And so, under Steward Nam’s guidance, Hui-yeom’s party set out for the residence of the Hobu Sirang.
“Well?”
When they arrived at the residence of the Hobu Sirang, Sama Yun asked with a smiling face. Hui-yeom quietly nodded.
“For the second-in-command of the Ministry of Revenue, the house is remarkably modest. Truly a dwelling fit for a gentleman.”
It was no empty compliment. The Hobu Sirang’s residence was smaller than the homes of any number of local notables back in Sichuan. A man of his rank and wealth would never be content with such a small house for lack of means; to Hui-yeom it looked like a carefully calculated political device.
Even with the prestige of the Sama Clan behind him, even after rising to Hobu Sirang, he still has to flaunt this kind of incorruptible purity just to survive… So Beijing’s central political arena really is a realm of demons beyond human ken.
When Hui-yeom’s party opened the main gate and stepped inside, the stewards and servants of the Sama Clan poured out in a rush to greet Sama Yun and welcome the Dang Family’s visit. Their faces were bright, filled with pride in serving the Sama Clan. Hui-yeom found that very much to his liking.
After a brief exchange of greetings, the Dokwadae and the Sama Clan’s escort warriors were guided to places where they could rest. The Hobu Sirang’s house could not possibly accommodate four hundred people, so they had to scatter among inns throughout the district.
“Is that not dangerous?”
“This is Beijing.”
The Dokwadae commander’s worried question was settled by Steward Nam’s single smiling remark.
Only Hui-yeom, Sama Yun, and Dang Su-jeong were led by the steward to meet the Hobu Sirang himself.
“Great-Uncle, your grandniece Sama Yun pays her respects after a long absence. Have you been in unfailing good health?”
Receiving Sama Yun’s greeting, the Hobu Sirang—his kindly face wearing a gentle smile—nodded.
“Hoho, yes, yes. I thought I smelled the scent of spring on the breeze, and here you are, already grown into a young woman. Are you applying yourself diligently to your studies?”
“Yes. I strive and strive again so that I may never bring shame upon the name of Sama.”
“Good, good. That is as it should be. And… this young friend must be the one. The future of the Sichuan Dang Family, and the hero who transformed Sichuan itself?
A pleasure to meet you. I am Sama Seung. Though unworthy, I hold the post of Sirang in the Ministry of Revenue of Daegyeong. My grandniece has been in your care.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Excellency the Sirang. I am Hui-yeom of the Sichuan Dang Family. To be granted this audience is truly an honor.”
“Yes, yes. Just as I had heard—an impressive young man. Come, sit. Let us drink a cup of tea and discuss what lies ahead.”
Apparently pleased with Hui-yeom, Sama Seung accepted the greeting with a smile and personally poured the tea. After a short while spent sipping the warm brew and exchanging light conversation, Sama Seung moved to the heart of the matter.
“It would seem His Majesty wishes to see you in person.”