Preliminary Maneuvers
Gambling, is it?
The history of gambling is as old as the history of humanity itself. Even among the relics of Mesopotamia one finds dice carved from animal bones; gambling ranks among mankind’s oldest diversions.
In his previous life Hui-yeom had moved through the political circles of Washington, D.C., and become reasonably fluent in Western card games—poker, Texas Hold’em, Hula. Whenever business took him to China he inevitably learned mahjong as well, and learned it so thoroughly that people called him a Gambling God. At Go he could give a professional three stones and still win (whether that professional had been throwing the game for the sake of hospitality was another matter entirely). In short, his accomplishments were more than adequate.
But that was modern gambling.
This was sixteenth-century China.
Mahjong, the final boss of Chinese gambling, still lay a hundred years in the future. In its place stood a whole arsenal of diversions capable of toppling kingdoms: cricket-fighting, gambling Go, Janggi, bone tiles, Sapyeong, Fantan, Pai Gow, and more.
Sama Seung knew perfectly well that the three surest ways for men to become fast friends were wine, tobacco, and gambling, and he knew how to deploy them when the occasion demanded. He also knew the establishments that combined two of the three.
“Come, come! The tiles are going around!”
Deep in the inner courtyard of Beijing’s Premier Pavilion—a private retreat where high officials regularly gathered—five elderly men and one young man sat together. The young man was, of course, Hui-yeom; one of the elders was Sama Seung. The remaining four were ranking ministers who, outside these walls, would never have been suspected of setting foot in such a place. Only Sama Seung’s considerable skill had drawn them here tonight.
Every variety of Chinese gambling lay ready. Hui-yeom, needless to say, was a novice at all of them. At best he might hold his own at gambling Go. That did not matter. His object this evening was not to win money; it was to lose it.
“Aigoo! A Six Bao right there—ai-gooo~! My lord, is this even legal? Huh? Aren’t you taking this a little too far~?”
Sama Seung had once described his nephew-in-law to the clan head as “as lofty as a solitary crane, as elegant as a single orchid blooming on a cliff face.” Sama Yun, who had observed Hui-yeom longer than anyone, had boasted to her father: “He is grave and weighty, yet warm; he treasures his own people like a thousand pieces of gold. Even in the midst of busyness he never loses dignity—like a single peacock among chickens. Wise enough to sit and discriminate among a hundred enterprises and foresee events a thousand li away. He never utters empty words; without ostentation he commands respect, and there is nothing frivolous about him.”
And yet here was that same Hui-yeom…
Sama Seung could scarcely believe the scene unfolding before his eyes.
If Yun saw this, she would faint on the spot.
Watching Hui-yeom thrash his feet and cackle with vacant glee, Sama Seung could only smile helplessly. Who, looking at him now, would ever recall the title “Sleeping Dragon of Sichuan”? In Sama Seung’s eyes the young man was nothing more than a youth thoroughly drunk on the excitement of the table.
Already ten taels of silver had left Hui-yeom’s purse and found their way into the officials’ sleeves—roughly thirty million won in modern terms. Small wonder their mouths stretched wide with delight.
“Hahaha! Scholar Dang may be a wizard at business, but he is a babe in the woods when it comes to pleasure!”
“No, really, I’d let most things slide, but these tiles have been acting strange for a while now. My lord, you too—how can you hold a hand like that and still bluff so shamelessly?”
“Haha! That, my boy, is the strategy of empty and solid!”
The man cheerfully clapping Hui-yeom’s shoulder was Pyon Do-sok, Grand Academician of the Hanlin Academy, a Rank-Two official. The one clutching his belly and roaring with laughter was Yu Jang-hwan, Commissioner of the Office of Transmission, also Rank Two. And the fellow snickering as he flipped over the tiles Hui-yeom had just thrown was Ok Chang-jun, Vice Minister of Rites. None of them belonged to the Eight Great Families, yet each was a minister no one could afford to ignore.
Hui-yeom, far from sulking over his losses, rubbed his hands together as though the fire of competition had only just been lit.
“Ah, I absolutely cannot stand this! What are you waiting for? Deal already!”
“Heavens, the lad is impatient. Keep that up and you won’t notice until I’ve stripped you of your underclothes.”
“Your swagger ends tonight, my lord. Allow me to show you a secret technique handed down in Sichuan!”
“Still putting on airs? It seems I shall have to teach you a proper lesson. Don’t you agree, my lord?”
“Hahaha! There’s a saying at the gaming table: if you can’t spot the mark, you’re the mark. At least tonight I am not the mark.”
The ministers roared and ribbed him without mercy. Hui-yeom laughed just as loudly, a faint flush rising to his cheeks as he rattled the bone tiles.
“Just wait and see, my lords! Tomorrow morning when you enter the palace I shall have stripped you of the very belts you wear!”
“If you can, by all means try! Haha!”
Hui-yeom continued to lose, clawing at his hair, overacting just enough to be endearing rather than tiresome. His exaggerated laments and playful tantrums drew both affection and laughter. Sama Seung, watching the deliberate self-abasement and the way the ministers leaned into it, could not suppress a private shudder.
I have spent a lifetime in court, giving and receiving countless entertainments… yet this is on the level of some unorthodox soul-bewitching art.
Hui-yeom’s performance as a careless wastrel was masterful. What truly astonished Sama Seung, however, was the young man’s affinity. Having known these ministers for decades, he could see that their hearts had opened wider than their outward manner suggested. He had also watched countless men spend fortunes and years of flattery simply to crack that same door—and still fail. The shock was therefore all the greater.
Even if one approaches with an open smile and plays the generous mark who throws away silver by the handful, there remains the gulf of decades between young and old, and the clear disparity between central ministers of the first rank and the young heir of a provincial clan. Yet he walked the tightrope of familiarity without overstepping, and in so short a time he has completely enchanted these old foxes?
A man who has eaten many bribes knows how to accept them; a man who has paid many knows how to offer them. Entertainment is no different: only those who have been lavishly entertained know how to entertain without awkwardness or pressure. In that regard Hui-yeom had almost no equal under heaven. His craft had been forged from the days of scrappy mid-sized companies all the way through the most demanding clients of Wall Street, Washington, and Beijing.
Did the ministers fail to notice that Hui-yeom was deliberately losing? Of course not. But losing money over the gaming table was far more enjoyable—and far less psychologically burdensome—than receiving a chest of silver in broad daylight. Combined with his lively conversation, his talent for keeping the game entertaining, the comic spectacle of his thorough humiliation, and just enough wine, the result was inevitable. Men who had come intending merely to watch a youngster’s antics melted like grandfathers doting on a favorite grandson.
Then, while still shaking the tiles, Hui-yeom tossed out a remark as if it meant nothing.
“Ah, really! With luck this bad, where’s the fun? If only gambling were as easy as business. Even if I made thousands of gold, making up for what I’ve lost here would still leave a bitter taste.”
The ministers, their purses pleasantly swollen with his silver, smiled and inquired casually:
“Have you some profitable scheme in mind?”
Under ordinary circumstances such easy conversation with men of their rank would have been unthinkable. Yet the wine, the gambling, the atmosphere of the room, and the “harmless mark” image Hui-yeom had carefully cultivated for more than two hours had dissolved their wariness. They now regarded him as “an amusing young friend who knows how to enjoy himself without putting on airs.”
Hui-yeom answered just as casually while dealing the tiles.
“Ah, well, this time His Majesty has decided to reward me rather handsomely for stopping those barbarians… ah, wait—I seem to have lost my head for a moment.”
He clapped a hand over his mouth as though suddenly sobering, but the ministers’ eyes had already sharpened. Not one of them failed to recognize that the “new form of enterprise” the Emperor had ordered discussed with the Minister of Revenue and the other high officials was precisely what Hui-yeom had almost revealed. When the Emperor spoke those words in open court, the real meaning was: “Unless there is a disqualifying flaw so glaring that even twisting yourself into a knot cannot hide it, shut up and push it through.”
The ministers exchanged glances, already calculating how best to fleece this pitiful mark.
Grand Academician Pyon Do-sok offered Hui-yeom another cup with a genial smile.
“Still, looking at your present skill, little brother, I begin to worry that this enterprise of yours may prove less than miraculous. I hope you won’t end up squandering the family fortune and then come begging this elder brother for help.”
A man on the verge of sixty addressing a youth barely past twenty as “little brother” might have seemed shameless, yet among men drinking together such liberties sometimes occurred. The moment Pyon called him brother, Hui-yeom slipped into the new register with perfect ease, draining his cup roughly as though offended.
“Come now, elder brother! This foolish younger brother may be out of luck tonight, but both at the gaming table and in business I have never known the meaning of failure!”
“Aigoo, Grand Academician Pyon has suddenly acquired a younger brother of twenty—now even I feel rejuvenated! Haha! Young Dang, will you call this man ‘elder brother’ as well?”
“Ah, of course, elder brother! Anyone under a hundred is brother, isn’t that right? In that spirit, accept a cup from this younger brother—bottoms up! Hahaha!!”
Sama Seung could only sigh. Hui-yeom laughed uproariously, arms around the ministers’ shoulders, trading cups back and forth. Though it was Hui-yeom who had opened their hearts, the ministers now behaved as though they themselves had completely disarmed him, and began probing of their own accord.
Hui-yeom, with every appearance of pride, launched into a boastful description of his great business idea—essentially the same explanation he had once given Sama Seung, only now the risks were painted far smaller, the returns far larger, and the effects exaggerated to the extreme.
He thumped his chest like a man half-drunk and spoke through half-lidded eyes.
“Ah, I really shouldn’t be saying this anywhere, but—hic!—you elder brothers are so good that I’ll just spill it! You gentlemen… if this gets out, z-zuh, it’s a big no-no, y’know?”
“Heavens, what on earth is our little brother about to tell us?”
“The truth is, hic, this joint-stock company system carries His Majesty’s dee-eep intentions.”
“His Majesty’s intentions?”
The wine fled from the ministers’ faces; glances flashed between them.
Hui-yeom continued, still looking thoroughly disheveled and hiccupping.
“His Majesty said he would make this enterprise succeed—‘no matter what.’”
“…Succeed no matter what?”
The words sounded peculiar.
Business has its rises and its falls—yet he will force it to succeed no matter what?
That almost sounds as though he will do whatever it takes…
Even a whole jar of Heaven’s Day Liquor would have evaporated at a stroke.
If the Emperor himself guarantees success…
Then anyone who climbs aboard is guaranteed profit, is he not?
Wait—how much liquid capital can I free up…
An enterprise whose success the state itself would ensure was one only a fool would refuse to join. Of course such a structure could not last forever, but even if one merely sucked the sweetness from the early stages and jumped clear, the profit would be ample.
In front of the now-excited ministers Hui-yeom staggered, then slammed a set of tiles onto the table.
“Yes! Double Zhen-a and double Zhang-san~! Just need a Double Feiyan for the A-sam-ryuk~! Ah, Brother Pyon, what are you doing? Did the tile-counter run home for the title deed? Why aren’t you putting your tiles down~?”
Bone tiles were the last thing on anyone’s mind, yet the thoroughly drunken demand actually restored a measure of composure. Pyon Do-sok swallowed dryly and laid his tiles with affected calm.
“He will force the enterprise to succeed no matter what?”
“Think about it a little~ Once the stock system is introduced, who bleeds?”
“That would be… the traditional money-lenders, wouldn’t it?”
The pawnshops and private banks that had long monopolized lending would of course be the first victims. Hui-yeom grinned at the answer.
“Exackly~ And who stands behind those money-lenders? None other than the local gentry clans.”
He burst into open laughter.
“The gentry use the money-lenders to run usury, then in famine years lend grain to the farmers, bind them with debt, seize their fields, and reduce them to tenants. Day by day the people grow poorer while their lifeblood pours into the gentry’s purses.”
“….”
“And the bigger problem iiiis~ that the silver, the silk, the grain that flow into those gentry storehouses do not circulate again to create commerce. They just sit there gathering gray dust. With money drying up in the market, its value rises while the value of goods falls, so even when the common people sell their grain they cannot get a fair price.”
“….”
“But stocks—even ordinary people can buy them. And they will prove a rather fine way to make money. Because His Majesty will make it so.”
“His Majesty will?”
“Yes. Only then will the pin money sleeping in rich men’s chests and the silver and silk sleeping in gentry warehouses come pouring out. There’s a song in Hebei, you know?
Three years as a magistrate~♬
If you don’t raise a mansion big as a whale’s back~♬
Your three generations will end up begging~♬
That tells you exactly how thoroughly the local officials squeeze.”
Hui-yeom swayed his head, humming along and snickering. The ministers did not laugh.
“They’ve gorged themselves like that, yet they still just sit on the hoard like squirrels hiding acorns—and that’s why the country is in this state. So His Majesty will force this enterprise to succeed. He will drag the shadow capital sleeping in the market out into the light, revitalize the economy, weaken the traditional power of the gentry, and free the common people bound to them.”
“But… won’t the local powers push back hard? I thought… His Majesty was gathering provincial strength in order to crush the Eight Great Families…”
“Different.”
Even through the drunken haze the voice sounded strangely firm.
“To stand against the Eight Great Families, who already dominate both the capital region and the provinces, the support of the traditional gentry alone is not enough. A new base of support is required—people who will endorse His Majesty’s policies, buy His Majesty’s stocks, and form a community of interest with the throne. People who will one day be called the ‘new wealthy class—the bourgeoisie.’ Of course the Eight Great Families might buy stocks and make money too… heh heh heh… but then they would be betraying the very provincial gentry and money-lending houses that form their own support base, wouldn’t they?”
A chill ran down the ministers’ spines. The wine had long since burned away. The strange part was that these seasoned officials, though now completely sober, never once suspected that Hui-yeom’s words were calculated and deliberate. On the contrary, precisely because they knew they were sober, they accepted everything without doubt: This isn’t the wine talking—this is simply the truth when you think it through carefully!
“What I’m saying is—this is only for you real, true elder brothers—stocks: you must approve them without fail. And you must buy them. Ah~ His Majesty is going to shovel money out like dirt~! Money multiplies, I tell you! It’s real!
And if you oppose this policy… you’ll sink right along with the Eight Families…”
Thud!
The moment the last word left his mouth, Hui-yeom’s head dropped onto the tile board. Startled, the ministers seized and shook him, but he only mumbled happily in his sleep, snoring loudly.
“…Mmm… Yun-mae… heeheehee…”
“…Ahem…!”
One form of bone-tile play, Bao, is a four-player game. With Hui-yeom collapsed, the remaining three ministers looked to Sama Seung, who had been acting as referee. He shook his head.
“My nephew-in-law has overindulged. I shall take him home at once.”
“Hmm… Tell me, Vice Minister of Revenue—was Scholar Dang’s talk true?”
Vice Minister of Rites Ok Chang-jun asked. Sama Seung shook his head again.
“I have heard nothing of the sort. The young man may simply have spouted nonsense in his cups out of youthful bravado. Best forget it.”
Sama Seung’s careful retreat only strengthened the ministers’ conviction. Pretending not to notice their eyes racing with calculation, he rose. A household warrior hoisted Hui-yeom onto his back.
“Do come again, my lords~.”
“Yes.”
Outside, a waiting courtesan offered coquettish farewells; Sama Seung answered absently and climbed into the sedan chair with Hui-yeom. He let out a long, deep sigh. A moment later there came a rustling, and Hui-yeom sat up.
“Things are more or less falling into place.”
Not a trace of drunkenness remained on the composed, smiling face. The soft, dignified manner of everyday had returned. Sama Seung stared at him as though regarding some uncanny monster.
“…I am growing more and more afraid of you, young man.”
He spoke with genuine unease.
“How can a person deceive others so completely?”
Hui-yeom gave a faint, completely sober smile.
“If a greenhorn looks too clever, he only invites resentment. A greenhorn should be easy to fleece—that’s what makes him endearing, isn’t it?”
“The strategy of feigning foolishness while remaining clear-headed… Your nephew’s acting is so superb that they will never realize, even in their dreams, that they have been deceived.”
“I am honored by the praise. In any case, with this we should have drawn in most of the neutral ministers.”
“It is still too early to be certain. They may have been swayed by your tongue and performance just now, yet once they return home and reflect, they may feel quite differently.”
“No. They will agree. I was lying down, so I could see their faces quite clearly.”
Those old men’s faces, steeped in greed, were ones he had seen until he was sick of them—on Wall Street and in Washington alike. The faces of men who believed they had already seized victory, that they had found the perfect mark.
Hui-yeom smiled quietly.
“Then the opposition will begin to move as well. I hope they prove at least a little interesting to deal with.”
“What do you intend?”
“Well… first of all…”
The quiet smile was abruptly swallowed by a thick, clinging black shadow.
“I think I shall die once—and then come back to life.”