The Wedding (2)
Setting aside the Sama Clan, already bound to the Sichuan Dang Family by marriage alliance, the guests fell into three camps.
First were those who cared little what became of the Dang Family either way. The Moyong Clan of distant Liaoning, the Hebei Pang Family, the Jinju Eon Family, the Hwangbo Clan—all of them lived far enough from Sichuan that the Dang Family’s rising prestige remained someone else’s affair. They came with pure congratulations and idle curiosity.
Next stood the Beijing Yang Family, carefully neutral. Their influence ran deep through the Embroidered Uniform Guard that opposed the Eastern Depot, and unlike ordinary martial clans they were half officialdom already, roots sunk firmly into the central court. They watched the Dang Family’s every move with keen interest. Since the Dangs’ first major act had been to make an enemy of the Eastern Depot, a friendly relationship remained very much worth cultivating, depending on how the winds blew.
Last came those who stood to lose from the Sichuan Dang Family’s advance into the Central Plains: the Namgung Clan, and the Jegal Clan—close to the Namgung and already at odds with the Sama, which made them natural adversaries. Contrary to expectations that they might skip the wedding entirely, they arrived in the spirit of scouting enemy territory.
Of course they were not foolish enough to display open hostility at another man’s wedding feast; the surface of every greeting remained warm and cordial. Their true feelings, however, were another matter.
“So that’s the rumored First Dragon of the Lineage. Looks like a soft-handed scholar to me.”
A strikingly handsome man with features worthy of the title Jade Young Master twisted his lips as he watched Hui-yeom from a distance. Wearing a hero’s headband and deep-blue martial robes, he looked as though he had stepped straight out of an old heroic tale. The words leaving his mouth, however, were neither gentlemanly nor heroic.
“Hmph. Put him on a sparring stage and he wouldn’t last three exchanges, yet they call him one of the Nine Dragons. Laughable.”
The composed beauty in green robes who had been listening quietly raised her fan and pressed it lightly against his forearm.
“Careful, Young Master Namgung. There are many ears about.”
“Ah, my apologies, Young Lady Jegal. My blood runs a little hot by nature.”
They were Namgung Sang-min, Young Master of the Namgung Clan, and Jegal Eun-ryeo, daughter of the Jegal Clan’s Young Master. No formal betrothal bound them, yet the world around them quietly treated them as a pair. More precisely, Namgung Sang-min had engineered that perception, and Jegal Eun-ryeo, knowing it full well, simply declined to correct it.
Namgung Sang-min spoke again.
“Surely Young Lady Jegal prefers a commanding man of presence over a soft-spoken weakling who only knows how to talk.”
The childish question made Jegal Eun-ryeo’s elegant brow furrow. Raised without want and never once bested by anyone, he still retained, past the age of twenty, the petulance of a boy. The self-absorbed Namgung Sang-min, who believed he must always be first and always the center of attention, could not endure a situation in which he was not the protagonist; he sought compensation in remarks like these.
Jegal Eun-ryeo, for her part, found him wanting and his behavior so juvenile that she could not bring herself to agree even out of empty politeness. In the end she answered:
“Speak only of pleasant things on a pleasant day. Aren’t the decorative lanterns the Dang Family prepared for us truly beautiful?”
Even Namgung Sang-min could not miss the meaning—stop acting like a brat at someone else’s feast and mind your manners. His face crumpled, then smoothed into a smile again.
“Hahaha. Since Young Lady Jegal puts it that way, I shall be more careful.”
“…I believe I’ll go look around over there. Until later.”
Jegal Eun-ryeo bowed and withdrew. Namgung Sang-min watched her retreating figure and licked his lips.
“If not for that insolent streak, she really would be the perfect wife…”
Meanwhile Jegal Eun-ryeo walked at random, trying to shed her irritation. Close relations between the two clans were unavoidable, yet a political marriage to that half-grown man was something she refused to accept. How could a Young Master meant to lead an entire family behave like that at another house’s celebration? And she was hardly blind to the sticky, lustful gaze that occasionally slid over her body.
She wandered in a dark mood until she rounded a corner and stopped short at the sight of two people standing before her.
“Ah…”
A perfect pair. A young man of kind, gentle features and a beauty of pure, elegant presence gazed at each other with open affection while they conversed—a scene like a painting. When their eyes turned toward her, Jegal Eun-ryeo hurriedly offered a cupped-fist salute.
“Forgive me for interrupting your conversation. I am Eun-ryeo of the Jegal Clan.”
The handsome young man of kind countenance answered with a smile like sunlight.
“Why, if it isn’t Young Lady Jegal Eun-ryeo, the Knowing-and-Acting Phoenix of the Brush. A pleasure to meet you. I am Hui-yeom, Young Master of the Sichuan Dang Family.”
His voice was clear and pure as an autumn breeze, carrying neither sticky desire nor arrogant pride. Jegal Eun-ryeo stared blankly at Hui-yeom’s beauty for a moment before she recognized the woman beside him. Looking at Sama Yun, she spoke almost with a sigh.
“Young Lady Sama, it’s been a long time. Truly, you seem to have won the finest bridegroom imaginable. I can’t help but envy you.”
Sama Yun’s eyes widened for an instant with an expression that said, We aren’t close enough for this kind of well-wishing, then she smiled sweetly.
“Envy? Why, Elder Sister Jegal, you’re receiving the devotion of Elder Brother Namgung, the Thunderbolt Sword Dragon said to stand first among the Nine Dragons.”
“……”
Jegal Eun-ryeo’s fist clenched hard; the handle of her folding fan creaked. She had offered rare praise, and what came back was mockery. Or if not quite mockery, it still felt like being toyed with, and anger rose in her.
As though sensing the change in her mood, Hui-yeom hastily cut the conversation short.
“Nine Dragons? What’s that, Yun?”
“Oh? Young Master Dang has no interest in the Nine Dragons and Seven Phoenixes?”
“I’ve heard the term in passing. And that I’m supposedly one of them. But I always figured it was just an honorary title, so I never paid attention. Someone who has never even gone on a martial tourney circuit, who barely moves in the jianghu at all, gets slotted in? Sounds purely ceremonial to me.”
“…Honestly, this is just how he is.”
Between Hui-yeom casually uttering words that no martial artist should ever speak and Sama Yun sighing at him in disbelief, the two of them looked so perfectly matched and natural together that Jegal Eun-ryeo found herself smiling despite everything. She swallowed the anger Sama Yun’s little provocation had sparked and spoke again, smiling once more.
“Truly… is this what they mean by a couple so fine that just looking at them lifts the heart? Marriage is two people walking side by side, looking toward the same place. Young Lady, it seems you have found a truly fine match, and that makes me glad. May only sunny days lie ahead for both of you, without a single storm.”
When someone came at her with such warmth, continuing to be contrary would have been a serious character flaw. Sama Yun seemed a little embarrassed by her earlier jab; her cheeks colored faintly.
“Thank you for the congratulations, Elder Sister Jegal. I mean it.”
“…Of course.”
Jegal Eun-ryeo bowed to them both.
“I’ve taken enough of your time. I’ll take my leave so the two of you may enjoy a private moment.”
“Thank you. We’ll see you again at the ceremony.”
“See you later, Elder Sister.”
After Jegal Eun-ryeo left, Hui-yeom turned to Sama Yun.
“She was less hostile than I expected.”
“People of the Jegal Clan never act hostile toward others. On the surface. It’s common for someone to be destroyed by a Jegal scheme and never realize, even as they die—or after they die—that they were dancing on the Jegal’s strings.”
Sama Yun gave a short laugh.
“Then again, our Sama Clan is hardly in a position to criticize. That’s why we get along so poorly. People claim our main house feels inferior to the Jegal because of the old stories between Marquis Wu—Zhuge Liang—and Emperor Gaozu of Jin—Sima Yi. That isn’t it. We simply feel a mutual revulsion for our own kind.”
“Hmm.”
Hui-yeom stroked his chin.
“Could the Sama Clan take the Jegal Clan’s hand again if the need arose?”
“If the need arose, I suppose we could. We would hold the initiative, of course. But why do you ask? Surely you aren’t thinking of taking a concubine before the wedding has even been held? I’d be terribly disappointed.”
“Of course not. Only… if we could secure the cooperation of both the Jegal and the Sama… that would be an enormous force. Think about it. What if King Cao Cao of Wei had been assisted on both sides by Marquis Wu and Emperor Gaozu of Wei?”
Zhuge Liang on the right, Zhongda on the left—how could anyone possibly stand against that?
Having worked with the Sama Clan and quietly felt their latent power, Hui-yeom found the strength of the Jegal Clan—who stood as their equals, or slightly above them—deeply attractive. It might look as though Hui-yeom’s own brilliance and business plans had secured everything so far, but every preparatory step beneath those plans had drawn heavily on the Sama Clan’s political skill, connections, and capital. The Great China Linkage Plan, in particular, would have been impossible even with the Emperor’s approval without the Sama Clan’s full cooperation.
Unfortunately, he was raising the subject immediately after they had just met Jegal Eun-ryeo. Sparks flared in Sama Yun’s eyes.
“They say a hero may have three wives and four concubines, but I will never allow it!”
“Wh—what?”
“You’re terrible! We’re holding the wedding today, and already you’re looking at another woman right in front of me…!”
Sama Yun made a little show of wiping away a tear. Hui-yeom looked momentarily flustered, then spoke with utmost solemnity.
“I swear upon every enterprise I have ever begun: I will never long for any woman other than you, Yun.”
“Truly?”
“Of course. I’ll say it again—I swear it upon every business I have ever started.”
Sama Yun let out a long breath.
“…Should I be angry that an oath like that actually has persuasive power?”
She laughed in disbelief, then drew his arm into hers.
“You have to cherish me and make me happy, all right?”
“Yes. Let’s both do our best.”
Beneath the tree their lips met lightly, then parted.
The union of Dang Hui-yeom, Sichuan’s young hero known as the First Dragon of the Lineage, and Sama Yun, the Heavenly Fragrance Beauty Phoenix always mentioned whenever the next most beautiful woman or most talented woman under heaven was discussed, was the match every martial artist and every official in the realm envied.
They performed the traditional rites: bowing before the ancestral tablets and both sets of parents, burning incense, then reading aloud together before the guests the wedding address they had prepared. Hui-yeom had worked hard on his portion, but he was not by nature a romantic man and nothing that satisfied him would come. Simply reading the address Lee Jin-myeong had drafted was even less appealing, so in the end he decided to plagiarize, more or less, from the knowledge of his previous life.
“If only I could wake in the early morning and gaze upon you, I would stand by the river where the mist rises and call to you with a small smile.”
He poured feeling into the lyrics of a song he had once loved; his soft, sincere voice rode pure internal energy and spread in every direction.
“If I could be happy even for a single day, that is the path I would choose. Now that you stand before me, I will never release these hands we hold. Until death itself parts the two of us, my single-hearted devotion toward you will never change.”
Sama Yun’s eyes shimmered with emotion even as her expression said, There’s no way this man knows how to say things that move a woman’s heart, and she cast a sidelong glance at Second Secretary Lee. Lee Jin-myeong flinched and crossed both arms in a vigorous X. Hui-yeom’s quiet laugh at the sight set the watching women’s hearts aflutter all over again.
“As I understand it, love is this: giving everything you have and still burning with the ache of what you have not yet given. I will give you all of myself. Because you came to me, I already possess everything.”
A roar of applause and laughter rose. The men hooted with a mixture of mockery and envy at such shameless sweet talk. The young women among the guests, meanwhile, drifted into dreams of the day they too might hear so romantic a confession.
Jegal Eun-ryeo savored the beauty of the words with strangely moist eyes.
Ah… to give everything and still burn for what has not yet been given… What beautiful devotion. Yes, that is how a husband and wife should be… the only ones under heaven who truly understand each other…
Her soft, swelling emotion was promptly ruined by Namgung Sang-min.
“Hmph. Just as you’d expect from a pretty-boy gigolo—his tongue alone is worthy of the Dang Family’s eldest son. Perhaps the Dang poisons aren’t poisons at all, but aphrodisiacs.”
Jegal Eun-ryeo felt a sudden, sharp surge of contempt and rage. For the first time in her life she experienced the sensation of standing beside someone whose stench made it almost impossible to remain near him. His breath, rinsed with mint tea, was fragrant; the words that rode that breath reeked of envy and arrogance.
Watching the radiant couple receive the crowd’s applause, she said quietly to Namgung Sang-min:
“Young Master Dang’s eloquence has won the praise of the assembly, yet Young Master Namgung too possesses the spirit of a great hero. The day will surely come when you recite verses no less splendid.”
On the surface it elevated him; a moment’s thought revealed the hidden meaning—you’re impressive enough already, so stop being jealous. Namgung Sang-min failed to catch even that and looked pleased. Jegal Eun-ryeo’s expression hardened further.
Regardless of their private feelings, the ceremony proceeded smoothly. The couple shared wine poured by Dang Un-sang and Sama Jang-cheon into a single large cup, and with that the rites were complete. All that remained was for bride and groom to circulate among the guests offering greetings.
Wine and meat never left the tables; music played without pause. Listening to the endless praise for how grand the wedding was, how splendid the decorations, how delicious the food, how refined the musicians, Eun Seol-ran felt deep satisfaction.
Yes. This is it. This is a proper wedding.
Left to Hui-yeom, they would have held the ceremony with a single bowl of cold water and spent the rest of their lives with a daughter-in-law who never stopped scolding her husband. Preventing that and fulfilling her duty as a mother-in-law was enough to fill her with pride.
Lee Jin-myeong praised her with genuine feeling.
“I never imagined the Matriarch’s skill could reach such heights… Truly, you are Young Master’s mother.”
“Heh. When this woman decides to step forward properly, this is the result…”
“In that case, regarding the inner household’s affairs—”
“Discuss those with your new daughter-in-law from now on.”
Eun Seol-ran was merciless.
With the Provincial Administration Commissioner, the Regional Military Commissioner, and the Surveillance Commissioner—the three great powers of Sichuan—all in attendance, the wedding was the grandest Sichuan had seen since the province was founded. Martial heroes and regional magnates alike offered smiling congratulations on the perfect match, traded well-wishes with Dang Un-sang and Sama Sang, and paid their respects to the newlywed couple. The Sichuan Dang Family threw open its vast storehouses, showering guests with wine, rice cakes, meat, and commemorative gifts. The renowned figures of the jianghu who had flocked from every direction gazed at the congratulatory message sent by the Emperor himself and marveled at the Dang Family’s transformed influence.
Even after the ceremony proper ended, the wedding feast continued for a full month. In that time Hui-yeom and Sama Yun met and received congratulations from more people than they could ever remember. Days of frantic, happy busyness flashed by. When the last of spring faded, the feast finally wound down, and everyone returned to ordinary life, entire departments of the family enterprise cried out under the sudden return of their normal workload.
In the midst of it all, Dang Un-sang was meeting his old friend Jang Chun-sik, Iron-Blooded Beggar and Branch Master of the Beggars’ Guild.
Jang Chun-sik said:
“This is information brought in through the beggars in Yunnan… The Chagatai side seems to be moving in a way that isn’t normal.”
“Chagatai? Those nomads?”
“Yes. The tribe that tried to invade Yunnan last time and got thoroughly thrashed. There are signs they may come again, on an even larger scale than before.”
Dang Un-sang’s expression grew grave.
At the same moment Dang Un-sang and Jang Chun-sik were speaking, Hui-yeom—plowing through the mountain of reports and project proposals that had piled up—opened a black-tier report from the Minjeongwon.
[Proposal Regarding the Risk of Provocation by the Chagatai Khanate]
War was already standing at the door.