Unexpected Encounter - 4
“Have you heard of it before?”
When Cheon-un showed a flicker of recognition toward Dangga Pungun, one of the Medical Pavilion members asked.
“For a moment I mistook it for another novel. This is the first I’ve heard of Dangga Pungun.”
Cheon-un gave a small shake of her head and looked down at the volume. The word “Pungun” had made her start, the same character that appeared in Tales of the Wind and Cloud Hero, but this was clearly a different book.
Tales of the Wind and Cloud Hero had been written by hand on crude paper. By contrast, Dangga Pungun was printed in clear movable type on paper of obvious quality.
When Cheon-un turned the first page, Kang Yunho’s signature filled the flyleaf. The brush strokes looked vigorous, as if they carried a man’s longing to become a true chivalrous hero.
Not the same hand as Tales of the Wind and Cloud Hero.
That was the first comparison her mind made. The signature was nothing like the handwriting she had seen hundreds of times.
I’ve never seen this hand before, yet somehow it feels familiar.
Familiar, yet not the script of that earlier novel.
A signature dashed off for strangers on the road and the careful regular script of a novel written in search of hope were bound to differ; Cheon-un had no way of knowing that.
Still, a faint hope had lived in her, and its disappointment left a small ache. Where had she seen this hand? The novel and the pen name were both new, so the resemblance could only be coincidence.
“You’ll be hooked the moment you start. It’s a truly magnificent tale of a chivalrous hero.”
Seeing the Wudang Taoist studying the book with such care, the Medical Pavilion reader spoke up as a devoted admirer.
“Exactly. A masterpiece that captures the true spirit of the Sichuan Dang Clan. And they were going to burn it.”
“As if I wanted to burn it.”
A novel praised so highly by members of the Sichuan Dang Clan only sharpened Cheon-un’s curiosity. She wanted to read it at once. But once she returned to her room the lamp would already be out. Perhaps she could read a little by the fire before turning in.
While the book-loving Taoist was still weighing the idea, an unexpected exchange reached her ears.
“Especially the final love scene with the Greatest Beauty of Sichuan—pure brilliance. It makes you shout that the official wife has to be the Greatest Beauty of Sichuan.”
“What are you talking about? Obviously the official wife is Du Eunghyang, the Greatest Courtesan of Hubei.”
“Hah! See? That proves you have no eye for women!”
“What?! Are you finished talking?”
Cheon-un stared at the two men in bewilderment. A love scene? That belonged in erotic fiction, not in a novel of chivalrous heroes.
“Is Dangga Pungun… not a chivalrous novel but… erotic fiction?”
Surely not. Still half hoping, she put the question to them.
“You really don’t know what kind of book this is?”
“Young Master Kang told me plainly that he had written a novel about chivalrous heroes.”
“And he did. The protagonist Dang Jeong is the finest chivalrous hero I’ve ever read. But the novel is also erotic fiction. That’s true as well.”
“What do you mean?”
A chivalrous hero in an erotic novel? Cheon-un could make no sense of it.
“In Joseon they call books like Dangga Pungun ‘erotic chivalry tales’—stories of the martial world that also contain steamy scenes. Here, look.”
The Medical Pavilion man opened the latter half of volume one and held out the love scene between Dang Jeong and the Greatest Beauty of Sichuan.
“What in the world…”
Cheon-un’s eyes fell on lush descriptions of “honey-peach breasts,” “willow-slender waists,” and other sticky, dense passages.
“The absolute best is the scene where she uses her chest. Let me find it—where was that…”
“Ah— I— that—”
The chill night air had cooled Cheon-un’s face; now it began to burn again.
“You idiot! Showing something like that to a Taoist in the middle of training?!”
“Ah! Forgive me!”
One of the Medical Pavilion men barked at his friend, who hurriedly snapped the book shut.
“So Dangga Pungun was erotic fiction after all…”
A shadow settled over Cheon-un’s features.
“There are spicy scenes, yes, but it’s genuinely entertaining. If you don’t mind, please take it.”
The man held the volume out once more. This time Cheon-un could not bring herself to accept it.
A minor lapse by young Taoists might be forgiven. But she was a Wudang disciple who had left the mountain to walk the path of a true chivalrous hero.
For a Wudang Taoist to carry erotic fiction was no different from a begging monk walking into a pleasure house with a red face.
“I do not read novels that hinder cultivation. Forgive me.”
She bowed in refusal and returned to her room.
The expression on Cheon-un’s face as she stepped inside was heavy with a sense of betrayal.
When I opened my eyes from sleep, Cheon-un So-hyeop was staring straight through me.
“Did I oversleep?!”
I sat up in a hurry and asked. Had I slept too late? Cheon-un So-hyeop was already dressed in neat Taoist robes, looking ready to leave at any moment.
Sunlight filtered through the window; it was still early morning.
“No.”
There was an edge in Cheon-un So-hyeop’s denying voice. What? Had I snored? I never snored.
“Then why?”
It was exactly the look of a teacher who, after dozing off in class and waking to sudden silence, realizes some bastard has been sleeping the entire period and is about to explode.
“You lied to me.”
“Lied?”
What was she talking about? Cheon-un So-hyeop wasn’t even a heroine; why would I lie to her? If it wasn’t serious I just wanted ten more minutes of sleep.
“Dangga Pungun.”
Those two words knocked the sleep clean out of me like a Dempsey Roll.
“Ahahaha.”
Ah, that. I hadn’t actually lied. I had simply… left a few details out. I gave an awkward laugh.
“It’s erotic fiction, isn’t it?”
“You read it?”
I glanced around her. No sign of the book. How had she found out separately?
“Last night the Dang Clan people were burning unnecessary baggage. I skimmed it for a moment.”
I forced my morning brain into gear and pieced the situation together.
So she hadn’t read it properly—just confirmed the sex scenes. Finding out the “chivalrous novel” she had been told about was actually erotica would naturally make her angry. Still, it wasn’t as if Dangga Pungun contained no chivalry.
If I was going to take a low posture I might as well speak with my chest out.
“There are love scenes, nothing more. It is still a story of a chivalrous hero.”
I looked her straight in the eye, the picture of a man wrongfully accused.
“For something that is ‘nothing more,’ the entire latter half is nothing but love scenes.”
She said she only skimmed it. How far had she gone?
“I included them for popular appeal. The real content is in the front.”
Truthfully I considered both halves important. How could an erotic chivalry tale drop the erotic part? Some readers probably treated the heroics as mere foreplay for the love scenes.
“People who read erotica always claim it’s a masterpiece even without the steamy parts. That doesn’t change the fact that you wrote erotica.”
No. There are works that describe the love scenes so unappetizingly—like “meat stewing in a hot pot”—that they’re genuine masterpieces even with the nineteen-plus scenes cut out.
The words rose to the tip of my tongue, but that was an example I absolutely could not give right now. I swallowed them and continued.
“I only added them to make the entertainment more varied. The longing for chivalry is still fully present.”
“A truly excellent chivalrous novel is entertaining even without love scenes.”
“I enjoy those novels too. But they have no popular appeal, do they?”
Did she have any idea how many tears of blood I had shed writing pure wuxia in this world? The answer was erotic chivalry tales.
“Even without popular appeal, there will always be someone who truly understands the book. Isn’t nurturing the spirit of chivalry in that person’s heart what a true writer does?”
She was right. Even in this world there were plenty of people who wrote without caring for money, solely for scholarly achievement or personal ideals.
“I’m less a writer and more a scribbler. Even if I could write that kind of book, I need novels that sell—not something that sits in a dusty corner of a bookshop for ages waiting for someone to buy it.”
“But someone will pick it up. I’m certain of it.”
Cheon-un So-hyeop’s expression turned complicated, as if my words had stirred a memory.
“A scribbler like me starves to death in the meantime. And I didn’t put love scenes in my novel only for popular appeal. I put them in for realism as well.”
“Realism?”
She tilted her head, puzzled. No idea, then.
“The righteous figure of a chivalrous hero is bound to make any woman fall for him, isn’t it? Haven’t you experienced that yourself while walking the chivalrous path, Cheon-un So-hyeop?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You simply never noticed. There must have been some. When you saved me, if I had been a woman I would have fallen for you at first sight.”
“Wh-what are you saying?”
Cheon-un So-hyeop sounded flustered; apparently she was just as dense about romance as I was.
“A chivalrous hero does not walk alone. Someone beside him is moved, falls in love, or nurses a grudge. I simply wrote that life of a chivalrous hero in an entertaining way. And I hoped that many people, seeing those chivalrous deeds, would begin to think about chivalry themselves.”
I had only written the reasons a hero is cool. A recommended text for promoting chivalrous acts.
“If you perform chivalry with that kind of purpose, it is not true chivalry.”
What a pure-blooded chivalry fundamentalist.
“I did the best I could. I don’t know how you’ll take it, but I hope it hasn’t soured your mood too badly.”
After making my appeal as a writer, I stood up to wash.
Cheon-un So-hyeop neither agreed nor disagreed; she simply watched me with a dissatisfied face.
The awkward silence between Cheon-un So-hyeop and me lasted the entire day.
On the road there was no way to request a change of rooms.
I’d like to stay on good terms with a genuine chivalrous hero…
That didn’t mean I needed to apologize for writing Dangga Pungun or take a low posture. But with Hwarin to protect, there was also no need to keep an uncomfortable relationship going.
In that case, I would make the other side come to me.
“I heard you burned the belongings of the deceased.”
I spoke to the Medical Pavilion members I had met with Cheon-un So-hyeop the previous night, laying a little groundwork.
“Not exactly belongings—just the bulky items.”
“And my book was among them.”
“Ah… well… haha.”
The man looked awkward, as if he had been caught.
“You did well. When I publish volume three I’ll dedicate a copy to the grave and burn it myself.”
I had no intention of scolding them. Some regions burned a dead man’s belongings or favorite things for him. Better to praise them for it.
“They wanted to see Dang Jeong’s chivalrous deeds. The dead lads will like that.”
“Yes. I’ll do that. By the way… did the two of you badmouth my novel?”
I moved quickly to the real point.
“Pardon?”
“What do you mean?”
“Cheon-un So-hyeop seems to have taken a dislike to my novel after hearing the two of you talk.”
I spoke like a superior who had just learned his subordinates had been gossiping behind his back.
“No, that—”
“I’m sure it isn’t true, but I was worried you might harbor ill feelings because I wrote Dangga Pungun, so I thought I should ask.”
They currently believed I was the illegitimate son of the Dang Clan Leader. Making an enemy of me was the last thing they would want.
“Absolutely not! How could we?”
Just as expected, both men waved their hands in frantic denial.
“Then please put in a good word for me, quietly. It’s better for us to stay on good terms with a Wudang chivalrous hero like Cheon-un So-hyeop, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Leave it to us.”
And so I was able to overhear, from a distance, the Medical Pavilion men heaping praise for Dangga Pungun on Cheon-un So-hyeop.
After a full day’s hard riding we reached another village and another inn.
When the food I ordered arrived I stared at it blankly for a while.
“Is the combination pizza not to your taste? Shall I bring some hot sauce?”
“It’s not that.”
“We don’t have pineapple pizza, but since you’re from Joseon, shall I order a separate bulgogi pizza?”
That was actually tempting.
“It’s not that either.”
I shook my head with a sorrowful face.
“Then why?”
“Eating this delicious combination pizza made me remember how Hwarin and I almost ended up on the street because of debt. We were so broke we used to split a single piece of bread.”
Strictly speaking we had been cutting food costs to invest in remodeling expenses, but I gazed at the pizza with a mournful expression while watching Cheon-un’s face.
A slightly darker look. Yes—my hard-life story was landing.
“You went through something like that?”
“Yes. Thanks to Dangga Pungun succeeding I can eat good food now. But with Hwarin still unconscious, it suddenly feels empty.”
Thinking of Hwarin killed my appetite in an instant. She had only lost consciousness; nothing worse had happened yet. Still, the heaviness in my chest would not lift.
I should look in on her face one more time later.
“Miss Hwarin will wake.”
“Yes. She has to. I’ve eaten enough; I’ll go on ahead.”
I rose and went to the guest room.
Cheon-un probably didn’t want this awkward atmosphere any more than I did. With Hwarin to protect, I wanted to keep a good relationship with Cheon-un So-hyeop as well.
I had already laid the groundwork.
It had been a choice forced on me by hardship. I had wanted to write pure chivalrous novels too. I simply compromised with the world. I had made that appeal as well.
On top of that the Medical Pavilion people must have praised Dangga Pungun thoroughly. If she still hated it after all that, there was nothing more I could do. We would either continue as we were or switch rooms.
After washing I sat on the bed and waited. Cheon-un entered the guest room.
What’s it going to be? I kept my expression neutral and waited until she sat on the bed.
Cheon-un sat, watched my face for a while, then finally opened her mouth.
“Could you spare a moment to talk with me?”