The Fountain Inauguration
The Provincial Administration Commissioner's Office promoted the occasion with the greatest possible fanfare.
Formal invitations went out not only to the Regional Military Commission, which had overseen security for the waterworks project, but also to the Provincial Surveillance Commission—one of the three great pillars of provincial power. Invitations blanketed Chengdu and the whole of Sichuan Province besides.
Qingcheng Sect and Emei Sect, the two greatest martial houses of Sichuan, received theirs; so did every middling and minor sect whose disciples numbered fifty or more. The summons reached the money walls, merchant associations, trading houses, and escort agencies as well—and among them, of course, Hui-yeom's own Hwi-eon Trading Company.
Around the three beautiful fountains erected in Chengdu's central square, dozens of tables had been laid out to form a vast open-air banquet. Each fountain possessed a reservoir a full ten zhang across—thirty meters—and at their centers and along their rims stood exquisite marble statues carved with breathtaking precision.
The crowd that had gathered stared at the still-empty basins, chattering with anticipation or thinly veiled envy.
"They say the water's going to spout up like mad from those things."
"Hmph. Digging a few more wells would have been more useful. What's so special about this…"
"The statues are incredibly fine, though. The Dang family's craftsmen really are as good as people claim…"
"Dang craftsmen? Those are just collateral kin, aren't they?"
"Collateral? No—I heard the truly skilled ones are all direct bloodline. Only the direct line is allowed to forge the hidden weapons."
"Weren't most of those direct-line types wiped out in the last righteous-demonic war?"
"Shh! What's wrong with you? Talk like that and you'll get us all killed!"
"What? Did I say something untrue?"
A few voices dripped with envy or disbelief, yet the overall mood remained bright and festive.
Before the Provincial Administration Commissioner himself appeared, Hui-yeom was kept endlessly busy receiving congratulations as the architectural designer who had achieved this great feat.
"I am Jin Gyu, called the One-Yang Adept of Qingcheng. On behalf of Qingcheng, I offer congratulations on the completion of this grand public work."
Though the man was a senior of far higher martial generation and many years older, he still granted Hui-yeom half-honorific speech out of respect for the Young Master of the Sichuan Dang Family.
Hui-yeom answered with a radiant smile and perfect courtesy.
"That Qingcheng Sect would honor us with so precious a visit makes this gathering all the more meaningful. I am Dang Hui-yeom, Young Master of the Sichuan Dang Family. It is an honor to meet you."
The One-Yang Adept's eyes swept over Hui-yeom as if appraising goods; a spark of genuine interest soon lit them.
"They said you were only skilled at miscellaneous tricks. Once again the world's rumors prove unreliable."
"What do you mean by that, sir?"
"It is praise. Calling them mere tricks does no justice to that aqueduct I saw on the way here—an enormous thing—and these fountains are no less impressive."
"I am humbled. The craftsmen deserve the greater credit."
"I hear you designed them yourself. Of course you did not draft every detail of so vast a structure alone, yet it remains remarkable."
"Haha…"
In truth Hui-yeom had done it all, but saying so would only earn disbelief and not a single copper coin, so he merely laughed.
The One-Yang Adept continued.
"Your martial skill is higher than I expected as well. Now and then a faint green light flickers in your eyes. That means you have already begun training the Green Dragon Divine Art, does it not?"
This old man's eyes are terrifyingly sharp.
Hui-yeom inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"About a year now."
"How old are you this year?"
"Twelve."
"So you achieved Qi-Poison Unity at eleven and laid the foundation of a Poison Person. There are monsters, and then there is this."
"You seem well acquainted with our family's arts."
"How could I not be? In the last righteous-demonic war the martial prowess shown by the Sichuan Dang Family's warriors was truly terrifying. Whenever the hidden-weapon specialists who had mastered the Triple-Yang Returning Origin Art swept their hands, a rain of projectiles poured down and enemies rolled about as corpses bristling like hedgehogs. Whenever the poison specialists who had mastered the Green Dragon Divine Art flicked their sleeves, the evil heretics of the unorthodox path melted into handfuls of bloody water. …In those days the Dang Family was a truly reliable ally…"
Gazing into the distance with misted eyes, the One-Yang Adept wandered a moment in old memories—and at the very end of his reminiscence he let slip a discourteous remark. Realizing it at once, he hastily continued with an expression of mild chagrin.
"Yet the Dang Family's future looks as bright as its past. Now that a prodigy like yourself has appeared."
"Haha… Thank you for looking upon me so kindly."
Hui-yeom simply smiled.
The One-Yang Adept himself did not seem a bad sort, yet for decades Qingcheng Sect had been quietly snatching Dang Family interests from behind the scenes. They were orthodox allies, so outward friendship and occasional cooperation were necessary; at root, however, they remained rivals for Sichuan's wealth and power. There was no need to grow any closer than required.
The visit from Emei Sect, by contrast, left Hui-yeom in a far more pleasant mood.
"Venerable Hyejeong, and even Disciple Hyoeun—you have come as well."
"When there is celebration for the Dang Family and for our Benefactor, how could this humble nun stay away? You have grown far more imposing these past few years. Congratulations on becoming a Poison Person."
"We offer our heartfelt congratulations, Benefactor!"
Sichuan's First Sword, the Wind-Flower Swordswoman Hyejeong Satae, and her disciple Hyoeun, both smiling brightly, presented Hui-yeom with gifts. After a suitable exchange of pleasantries, Hyejeong Satae spoke again.
"Young Master, if your schedule later permits, would you visit our sect? Our Sect Leader appears to be considering the installation of a waterworks system for Emei as well…"
Having once suffered a cholera outbreak from a contaminated water source, Emei Sect would gladly shoulder a substantial construction fee to prevent any recurrence.
Hui-yeom smiled brightly.
"The great ironworks commissioned by the Provincial Administration Commissioner's Office is a multi-year undertaking. Waiting for its completion would take far too long. I shall devise a way to resolve the matter beforehand."
"I leave it in your hands."
Receiving so many greetings and well-wishes, Hui-yeom barely noticed the hour reach noon—the appointed time for the fountain inauguration. Looking up at the Provincial Administration Commissioner, the Regional Military Commissioner, and the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner now seated in the place of honor, he swallowed dryly.
Whoa. All of Sichuan's highest powers are gathered in one place.
Legislative power remained the emperor's alone, and the emperor stood above the law, so the modern concept of separation of powers did not apply. Still, here sat the men who held supreme provincial authority over justice, administration, and the military.
The martial artists of the lesser sects, who tended to regard officialdom and the jianghu as somewhat separate realms, looked unimpressed. The representatives of Emei and Qingcheng, however—accustomed to feeling the weight of temporal power more directly—appeared distinctly uncomfortable. In particular the One-Yang Adept, representing Qingcheng, kept casting furtive glances at the Provincial Administration Commissioner that struck Hui-yeom as suspicious.
Something shady going on behind the scenes? Bribes, perhaps…
If, while the Sichuan Dang Family's interests had been shrinking, Qingcheng alone had absorbed them all, that was unlikely to be due solely to Qingcheng's own prowess.
Hui-yeom's eyes narrowed.
Which means the Provincial Administration Commissioner I call Granduncle is a complete bastard.
After Hui-yeom's own grandfather died, this so-called friend had carved up the old man's interests and sold them off to Qingcheng piece by piece—only to turn around and extend a friendly hand the moment the grandson showed promise, as if none of it had ever happened. The One-Yang Adept's nervous, almost fawning demeanor toward the Commissioner only strengthened Hui-yeom's conviction.
…Well, it doesn't matter. In business there are no permanent enemies or permanent allies.
Martial artists who staked their lives on righteousness and loyalty might take offense, but to Hui-yeom this sort of calculation was nothing. Having lived through the collusions, betrayals, realignments, and shifting alliances of corporate titans and politicians in his previous life, he found the present situation almost endearingly mild—something to laugh off with a mild chuckle.
In his former life the truly frightening thing had been tax audits, not bureaucrats or politicians. A businessman bowed and scraped before high officials and politicians not because he feared the men themselves, but because those men could order the tax authorities to descend. Remove that single power, and a rigidly dutiful civil servant—unlike a seasoned politician—was simply a businessman's meal.
While Hui-yeom's mind wandered, the Provincial Administration Commissioner finished exchanging pleasantries with the guests and mounted the platform. He unrolled a scroll and began reading the speech he had prepared; a military officer amplified the voice with internal energy so that even those at the rear could hear.
"People of Sichuan! Hear me! One hundred years have passed since the Great Founder, receiving Heaven's mandate, established the empire…"
The long, tedious principal's speech could be summarized roughly as follows:
I have carried out an awesome large-scale public works project for your sake, and—ta-da!—I didn't even force you into corvée labor to do it. Therefore be grateful for this boundless grace, and remain loyal to me and to the imperial house.
Self-congratulation and praise of the throne.
Watching the Regional Military Commissioner and the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner trade wry smiles, Hui-yeom's eyes gleamed.
So he and the other two power-holders keep each other in check? Even across different departments, the same rules apply.
When the interminable speech finally ended, the Provincial Administration Commissioner beckoned Hui-yeom forward. Hui-yeom stepped onto the platform and offered a formal martial salute to the crowd.
"I am Dang Hui-yeom, Young Master of the great Sichuan Dang Family. Under the direction of His Excellency the Provincial Administration Commissioner, I served as overall commander of this project."
Under a storm of gazes—curiosity, envy, admiration, suspicion—he continued. Among the guests who looked like martial artists, admiration and keen interest kindled in many eyes. The officer who had been about to relay Hui-yeom's words halted in surprise when the boy's unexpectedly powerful internal energy made his voice boom across the entire square. Hui-yeom signaled with a glance that the amplification was unnecessary and pressed on.
"I shall not waste words. A youngster like me standing up here spouting self-praise would only bore you all."
A light ripple of laughter answered the joke. Wearing a confident smile, Hui-yeom savored the attention fixed upon him.
"This province's waterworks draw their source from a valley in the upper reaches of the Yangtze. Construction lasted one year and six months in total. The aqueduct runs forty li—sixteen kilometers—with an average height of ten zhang, or thirty meters. Thirteen li—five point two kilometers—of underground channels were laid, and the underground reservoirs were built outside the city walls in the form of a subterranean moat following the fortifications. The total volume of water stored is approximately twenty-one thousand seom—three thousand seven hundred eighty kiloliters—enough to supply the entire population of Chengdu for roughly thirty days."
As the staggering figures poured forth, the mouths of those officials and merchants who could calculate such numbers—and who understood how difficult such architecture truly was—fell open.
"Wait—they didn't even use state corvée labor? Just the Dang Family and hired workers did all that?"
"So the talk that the Dang Family isn't what it used to be was wrong?"
"Not the old Dang Family, that's for sure. A few years ago people were saying there wasn't much left of them, and now they're casually handling projects of this scale on their own… They've changed, no question."
"And they say it's all thanks to that boy, the Young Master?"
"Come on, how is that possible? He barely looks ten years old."
"Who would invent a lie like that for whose benefit? And there are far too many witnesses."
"Is the Dang Family stretching its limbs again?"
Pretending not to hear the rising murmur, Hui-yeom finished his speech cleanly—explaining the waterworks, expressing gratitude to the Provincial Administration Commissioner who had entrusted him with the project, and carefully attributing credit to both the Commissioner and the Regional Military Commissioner for their decisive support.
"If Your Excellency will pull this lever with vigor, the mechanism will engage and the fountains will begin to operate."
At Hui-yeom's words the Provincial Administration Commissioner smiled and turned to the other two high officials.
"Shall we pull it together, Excellencies?"
"Certainly, Excellency."
The three men grasped the lever and yanked it free.
Thud! Clack! Click-clack-clack-clack…
The sound of something heavy dropping, of gears meshing and turning, rolled through the square. Moments later, powerful jets of water erupted simultaneously from all three fountains.
"Waaaaah!!"
People had rarely witnessed the gush of an underground spring when a well was being dug, and such natural spouts usually died quickly. These fountains, however, continuously and vigorously flung clear, clean drinking water high into the air. The crowd could not suppress its awe. Even the cynics who had refused to believe that an artificial device could make water shoot upward against nature—despite Hui-yeom's earlier explanation—stood open-mouthed.
Once the three fountains in the central square filled, the overflow ran along prepared channels into the laundry stations laid out around the square's edge. There, concrete washboards with corrugated surfaces allowed dozens or even hundreds of people to sit in rows and do laundry. The women cheered at the realization that they would no longer have to walk ten li to the riverside washing place outside the walls. The men, watching water pour from the faucets installed along the sides of the fountains, roared with equal delight that they would never again need to haul well water with such labor.
"Long live His Excellency the Provincial Administration Commissioner!"
"Long live the Sichuan Dang Family!"
The Provincial Administration Commissioner was thoroughly satisfied. The festival atmosphere grew ever more lively; the people ate the meat and drank the wine he had provided, sang songs, and grew pleasantly drunk.
Yet amid the universal praise for the Commissioner and the Dang Family, one man burned with fury: Hui-yeom's uncle, Dang Un-hwa.
That damned brat…
Ever since Hui-yeom had stepped into the forefront, Un-hwa's own standing had steadily eroded. Even the Council of Elders—once a force that had threatened Dang Un-sang and rallied around Un-hwa himself—now wavered uneasily, showing subtle signs of collapse.
If only… if only there were some opportunity…
If, for example, one of those ambitious business ventures crashed spectacularly, there would be an opening to attack…
The world looks easy to him right now, doesn't it? Just wait and see. The higher you fly, the harder your skull cracks when you fall…
Yet contrary to Dang Un-hwa's frantic hopes, Hui-yeom's next enterprise also proved an enormous success.
That next enterprise was none other than franchise dining.