The Renowned Gentry
The year was 1441. The twenty-third year of King Sejong's reign, the year of Eulmi.
The scholar shivered in the cold as he traversed the treacherous road. He was out of breath and dizzy. Why on earth was the weather in this northern frontier so wretched? Of course, the scholar did not know that because it was May, the weather was actually on the "mild" side. Nor did he care to know.
At any rate, he finally reached his destination. Exhausted, he threw himself onto the bed in the guest room, ordered his servant to check the luggage, and fell fast asleep.
By the time he woke from a light dream, it was time. Summoned by a voice calling him, the scholar woke up and headed outside. Stepping out of the large brick building characteristic of the northern frontier, a sudden realization washed over him. The unfamiliar climate, the strange landscape, the foreign brick walls, and the peculiar houses—he was now incredibly far from home.
He was over a thousand ri away from Hanyang. Yet, at a time when he should have been devoting himself entirely to his studies, he had made the journey here. No, it was precisely because of his studies that he had to come. Once he officially entered officialdom, he would never dare make a trip this far.
There was a compelling reason for this. A reason that had drawn countless scholars over the past few years to make the long journey to remote Aoji.
“...The master says to bring the Jinsa in.”
Or more precisely, the person who had drawn them all here.
Other men, who also appeared to be guests, were passionately debating something outside the manor. He was too nervous to make out their words. Passing them, he stood before another door. As he waited, a clear, youthful voice rang out from within.
“Bring him in.”
The moment the door opened at those words, the scholar entered the room and bowed politely to the figure before him. It was a bizarre sight—showing such deep reverence to a mere child who had not even bound his hair into a topknot. Yet, the scholar himself felt no awkwardness at all.
“I have only gained a modest reputation through minor talents. I am deeply grateful that you have traveled such a long way to see someone like me.”
The "master" greeting him returned the salutation with equal composure. And why shouldn't he? He was the famous filial son who had shaken Joseon, a genius who had mastered phonology, and an outstanding local administrator.
“I am An Heon of Aoji.”
An Heon. Those two syllables carved themselves into the scholar's heart. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth without him even realizing it.
“To meet the Seven-Year-Old Sage... as a scholar, I could not be more delighted.”
“You flatter me. I do not deserve such praise.”
“...”
Years ago, the Provincial Military Commander of Hamgil-do, Kim Jong-seo, had sent a report to Hanyang. The scholar remembered its contents. It stated that the boy, An Heon, was elegant, beautiful, and refined. That was already four years ago. Yet now, at eleven years old, the boy looked exactly like the portrait painted by Kim Jong-seo's words. Indeed, the rumors of his peerless literary grace were true. Over a hundred scholars had journeyed to the northern frontier just to meet this boy.
As the scholar marveled, An Heon smiled and spoke.
“Would you care for a meal first?”
“If you offer, I shall gladly accept.”
And as expected, everything happened exactly as the rumors foretold. The scholar nodded. Before he could say another word, the door opened and a dining table was brought in. As the scholar picked up his chopsticks, what lay before him was... noodles. Noodles made of that.
With a slightly trembling heart, he lifted the noodles and placed them in his mouth.
“Ah...!”
“Is it to your liking?”
...To his liking? A shock had just pierced his tongue like lightning.
He had heard many stories. But this was the northern frontier—the harshest, most remote edge of the land. A barren mountain valley. There was no way wheat grown in such infertile soil, starved of sunlight, could taste good. At the very least, it shouldn't taste better than wheat grown in fertile soil with abundant water and sun, right?
This reality, which defied all common sense, froze the scholar's hand for a moment. He stared down at the noodles floating in the bowl. Softer, springier, and absorbing the broth's flavor better than any noodles he had ever tasted... Ah.
He devoured the noodles made of An-seed wheat to the very last strand. Only when he set down his chopsticks did he finally regain his senses. Looking down, he saw only an empty bowl. He felt embarrassed for eating so shamelessly, abandoning all decorum, but An Heon merely smiled and nodded. His reaction made it clear: this was not the first time he had witnessed such a sight.
Soon, the table was cleared, and the dried mullet the scholar had brought as a gift and food for the "teacher" was served as a snack. This time, having properly regained his composure, the scholar began to speak. Sure enough, eloquent arguments flowed from "Teacher An's" mouth like water.
Phonology, the four tones, the seven sounds, and the true meanings embedded in the words and writings of the ancients. The scholar barely managed to keep up with the discussion. Then, he suddenly paused. Truly brilliant. The scholar must have been twice the age of the Seven-Year-Old Sage before him, yet he could not fathom the depths of the boy's knowledge.
“Such profound scholarship... Indeed, the rumors that a sage has appeared in the northeast are true.”
“You flatter me.”
“No. I see now that the people did not speak in vain.”
He had also met Kim Si-seup, who was famous as a young prodigy. He had admired that boy's poetry, but it paled in comparison to the shock he felt now.
“To learn so much and depart—how could a scholar not be overjoyed?”
“Your words bring me great joy.”
“When I return, I shall testify that every rumor about you is the absolute truth.”
As the scholar rose from his seat, the boy nodded and gave a signal. The door opened once more, and a servant entered to hand the scholar something. It was dried noodles made of An-seed wheat.
Receiving such a precious gift, the scholar could not hide his joy and expressed his gratitude to his host. Of course, like all the other guests, he had brought goods to trade. Selling them would allow him to exchange them for even more dried noodles in this town. After all, was not Aoji one of the wealthiest places in Hamgil Province? There was a reason for everything.
As the scholar rejoiced over the noodles, the servant handed him one more thing. Startled by the unexpected gift, the scholar instinctively touched the wrapping cloth. It was soft—fabric woven from An-seed cotton. Unwrapping the cloth, he lifted out a precious book he had only heard of by name.
When Teacher An Heon was focusing on his studies during his three-year mourning period, he had felt a certain regret. He had the Thousand Character Classic, but lacked the Elementary Learning, forcing him to immediately tackle the Reflections on Things at Hand and the Collected Commentaries on the Four Books. If only he had the Elementary Learning back then, his studies would have been much easier. If only there were an easy-to-learn version of the Elementary Learning for all children, one major barrier to enlightenment would be removed.
“You may already be familiar with it... but it is a humble piece of writing where I pondered the Elementary Learning and summarized its contents.”
Thus, Teacher An Heon had personally authored the Four-Character Elementary Learning (Saja Sohak). Receiving this precious book, the scholar could not hide his bewilderment.
“I... I heard this is only given to those who handle great state affairs. Why bestow it upon a mere student like me...?”
“Not at all. When I heard your name, Saengwon, I felt compelled to give it to you.”
The boy smiled.
“I only hope my writing proves useful to someone of such upright character.”
A rush of joy and bewilderment washed over him at the sudden praise. Bowing in return, the scholar walked out. Looking down at the precious book wrapped in the fine cloth, he reflected on what had just transpired. He looked around. Brick houses and warehouses lined the streets. Most of those walking among them in scholar's hats were guests of the Seven-Year-Old Sage. Some boasted of their dried noodles, but none seem to have received a book.
Only he held a book in his hands. Only he, a young scholar who had not even entered officialdom, enjoyed this honor.
...He still did not know why.
Yu Seong-won had no way of knowing why the Seven-Year-Old Sage treated him with such high regard.
That gave me a cold sweat.
I cooled my head while chatting with Jageun-i as she cleared the table. I just met one of the Six Martyred Ministers. For the first time in a while, it hits me why I ended up here.
Spirit Hong-wi made a sharp point. Ah, right. I do communicate often with my teacher, Shin Sukju. But honestly, he's so familiar now that I don't feel the solemnity of a historical figure. He's so flighty that it's hard to take him seriously, especially after seeing him get hit by his mother for being out of touch.
Speaking of which, my teacher is doing well. He passed both the Jinsashi and Saengwonsi exams, then took first place in the Mungwa, instantly becoming a star and entering the Hall of Worthies. I wondered if it was because of his newly strengthened connections, but he claims his achievements deepened thanks to me. Maybe that's it.
While my teacher was rising rapidly as a young talent in office, I was busy too. Busy hosting guests. Through Lord Kim Jong-seo, I kept my name circulating among the ministers in Hanyang. Through my teacher, I ensured the scholars in Hanyang remained fascinated by the Seven-Year-Old Sage. This is the result. Two or three scholars, sometimes more, visit Aoji every month. Thanks to them, the filial wheat and filial cotton are promoted, and Aoji has become one of the wealthiest towns not just in Hamgil Province, but in all of Joseon.
But that is just a side effect. I didn't spend years developing this place and hosting scholars just for that.
I close my eyes and think. This year, Yi Hongwi is born. And the Crown Princess Consort dies. Next year, during the special examination, I will pass both the Jinsashi and Saengwonsi, and enter officialdom with everything I've got. After that, I must rise through the ranks as fast as possible. I need to secure political standing before the year of Gyeyu. A young official connected to Kim Jong-seo with a stellar reputation. That alone would allow me to mediate between the reformist faction, like the Six Martyred Ministers, and the senior ministers, like Kim Jong-seo, during the coup. That alone would severely weaken Suyang's power...
Slam!
“M-M-Master! A noble guest has arrived!”
“What is it, Geobi? Who is it?”
At my question, Geobi froze for a moment, then scurried back outside. He returned quickly after asking.
“Um, he says he is an elder of your clan, Master.”
“What?”
An elder of my clan? It hurts to say, but... they're all dead?
I told Geobi to guide him to the guest room and let him rest until I was ready. Internally, I was tense, wondering if some bizarre family drama or a con artist was showing up.
Soon, the door opened. I stood to greet the guest.
“...”
“So you are An Heon. It is good to meet you.”
I could see why Geobi immediately called him a noble guest. His clothes were made of fine silk with intricate embroidery, and his hat string was dripping with jade and coral beads. The 15th century has far less visual stimulation than the 21st century. It's almost non-existent. Facing such sudden luxury was striking. And he came straight to the guest room like this. I didn't even know his name yet. His aura was completely different from the other guests.
“I am An Heon of Aoji,” I said, introducing myself first to prompt him to reveal his identity.
The guest stroked his beard and smiled. As I sat, he sat as well.
“Yes. You must have heard from your servant, but I am indeed an elder of your clan.”
“May I ask...”
“If we share the Juksan An clan, how can we not be of the same family?”
The Juksan An clan...? I was slightly confused. The Juksan An clan had been a powerful family since the Goryeo dynasty. Naturally, many people boasted about being Juksan Ans. In such cases, their ancestors usually diverged somewhere down the line, so only close relatives actually interacted. And as I mentioned, almost everyone below my grandfather and his brothers was dead. Even if I traced the genealogy back, I doubted I had any living relatives left.
“When a great figure emerges in the family, it is only right to meet them. I have been staying in Hanyang, but came out after a long time.”
But the guest said this. From the Juksan An clan, based in Hanyang? And someone who could dress like this? As I narrowed down the list in my head, he handed me a letter. As soon as I took it, he spoke.
“It is a letter from my wife, Her Highness the Princess.”
'My wife, Her Highness the Princess.' The husband of a princess—a royal son-in-law. All other names from the 21st and 15th centuries were instantly eliminated. A royal son-in-law with the surname An...
“Do not open the letter just yet,” An Maeng-dam, Lord Yeonchang, said with a bright smile. “I came here as a family member. It would be disappointing if you read my wife's letter before catching up with me, wouldn't it?”
He pointed to the letter from his wife, Princess Jeongui.
The only surviving legitimate daughter of King Sejong. A letter she sent by dispatching her own husband all the way to Aoji. A secret letter so important that her husband had to use the excuse of "meeting a relative" to deliver it.
“...”
“Do not be tense.”
I was speechless for a moment. I couldn't even open my mouth until the refreshments were brought in. An Maeng-dam said to me, “What kind of family is our Juksan An clan? Was not the fourth consort of King Gongmin of the previous dynasty my grand-aunt?”
He was talking about Consort Jeong. The figure who personally deposed King U, King Chang, and King Gongyang to place Yi Seong-gye on the throne. An Maeng-dam's father and grandfather were both members of the prestigious noble clans and held high offices in the Joseon dynasty.
“With our family so widely spread, it must have been 'a long time' since our ancestors last interacted.”
In other words, he searched the genealogy but couldn't find a direct connection between us. We might just share the same clan seat and surname.
“But 'our' Juksan An clan is a prestigious noble family. And now that such a great scholar has emerged, shouldn't we interact more often?”
But it didn't matter. The princess's husband, An Maeng-dam, just called me "our." I was now part of "our Juksan An clan."
I tried to recall what kind of figures Princess Jeongui and An Maeng-dam were. This time, I had to rely not on my teacher's letters from Hanyang, but on something else. The historical knowledge I learned in the "future."
An Maeng-dam had a pleasant conversation with the "young relative." He stayed for a few more days before leaving Aoji. Then, he slowly traveled south along the coast of Hamgil Province. He witnessed the northeastern frontier, thriving like never before. It was highly gratifying. He had just met the "cause" of this unprecedented prosperity.
In a good mood, he decided to stay a bit longer in Hamheung, the most bustling city in Hamgil Province. Sipping his favorite drink, he cleared his mind. Before his meal could even digest, he picked up a brush and wrote a letter. He sent it to Hanyang via a servant. Specifically...
"The child's natural talent is noble, his appearance is outstanding, and his capacity is extraordinary. The rumors of the world do not capture even a fraction of his true self."
“Indeed.”
“Your Highness, do you require anything else...?”
“You may leave.”
...To his wife, Princess Jeongui. Her eyes flashed with the same intensity as her father's. In a whisper so quiet no one else could hear, the princess murmured, “A talent worthy of my royal father's grand design.”
She, too, had only seen the "Seven-Year-Old Sage" from afar a few times and had never spoken with him properly. She only remembered her father's expression. The way her royal father had returned after meeting that boy, excited that everything would change from now on. And that alone explained everything. How that child would fit into the grand picture her father was painting...
Creak.
The princess paused her thoughts and turned her head. The door opened. Her closest and dearest younger brother entered.
“Sister, what are you doing?”
Despite being two years younger, his tone was incredibly casual and comfortable. It did not sound like a conversation between royals. But the princess was not displeased by her brother's informal address; she simply smiled back.
“It is about that boy.”
“You mean the matter our royal father commanded?”
“Indeed. It seems things will go quite well.”
“Aha... Then, for the royal family...”
“Do not speak of it aloud, brother. You never know who might be listening.”
She lightly scolded her younger brother, who chuckled in response.
“Of course, sister.”
“Good.”
And the princess playfully added, “Be careful, Yu.”
At his sister's playful warning, Yi Yu burst into a bright smile. The king's second son laughed. The man who would be called Grand Prince Suyang.
Author's Note: The title of Prince Yi Yu was changed from Grand Prince Jinyang to Grand Prince Suyang in 1445 (the 27th year of King Sejong's reign). However, for the convenience of our readers, he will be referred to as Grand Prince Suyang from now on.