Chapter 145
Chapter 145
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: Great Hero Kim Chunsik (1)
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Aisin Gioro Yongfeng, who had obtained Gyeomjae Jeong Seon's masterpiece painting, was the son of Aisin Gioro Hong Yeom, the Prince of Tara and Commander of the Army of the Air.
His mother, Lady Yu (劉氏), held no power, so he was treated by the principal wife as if he didn't exist. But anyway, that's how it was.
And Hong Yeom was sixth cousins with the Kangxi Emperor on the family register and his blood brother in reality. Currently, he also served as the Commander-in-Chief of the Mongol White Banners.
In other words, he wielded tremendous power. And he was filthy rich.
Perhaps scarred by the poverty of Nurhaci's era etched into his genes, Hong Yeom was one of the most obsessive Qing imperial clansmen when it came to money—he was downright peculiar.
Even as the Emperor's brother, he could amass wealth with such impunity that it would give Kim Unhaeng a stomachache, and nothing would come of it. But later, he committed the grave offense of brazenly sitting in the Emperor's reserved seat, leading to the stripping of all his positions.
But that hadn't happened yet. For now, Hong Yeom was a thriving young entrepreneur.
The ambitious CEO Hong Yeom didn't give a damn about scholarly face since he wasn't Han Chinese.
Starting from salt mines and coal mines, he dipped his hands into every field imaginable—even the ginseng business that Kim Unhaeng knew well. There was nothing he wouldn't touch for profit.
His methods were ruthless. Most mines had been seized from private owners, and for ginseng, he'd buy it up, sell it off, then stiff the original suppliers—doubling his import profits in a brilliant scam. He was so stingy that he skipped birthday gifts for his birth mother to save money, instead incurring the Empress Dowager's wrath.
This was why Kim Unhaeng's illicit ventures hadn't drawn heavy fire so far. The era's average was this corrupt.
Given Hong Yeom's nature, when the principal wife reported her young son's misdeeds—wanting not just to disown Yongfeng but to erase him biologically—his thoughts were predictably extraordinary.
"This could make money?"
It was such an unbound mindset that if Kim Unhaeng had heard it, he'd suspect another modern soul had arrived.
Hong Yeom, who had never spared a single coin's worth of attention for his secondary son, immediately summoned Yongfeng for a meeting.
Thanks to Yongfeng spilling everything in terror, Hong Yeom learned the painting's origin.
Though a prince himself, Hong Yeom didn't hate his son to the point of execution like some neighboring kings might. He generously forgave Yongfeng for bringing him a business opportunity, ordered him to stay home, and pondered.
"Joseon, huh."
Among neighbors, Joseon was especially rigid. There was no way official trade would involve such paintings.
"But it seems like it would sell well..."
The Qing strictly banned female prostitution (not male, though). Officially, at least—there weren't even courtesans (instead, there were pretty boy actors).
Of course, violators gonna violate, but there needed to be products for the more timid types too. With the Qing's massive population, demand was surely there.
Besides, as Kim Unhaeng knew, holding a few shady goods was essential for extending influence into the underworld forces critical to building wealth. That was the key part.
And these had to be imported directly from the "source"—Joseon.
It was risky for an imperial clansman like him to set up a porn studio himself, and even if he commissioned Qing painters to copy them, the results wouldn't match.
befitting his noble status, Hong Yeom had an eye for art. Western styles were more familiar to Qing folk than Joseon, and he instantly spotted the bizarre fusion of Western flair and "Joseon style."
Qing painters weren't incompetent. Ask them to draw a fox-eared cat-tailed girl, and they'd blanch but manage.
But premodern East Asian painting wasn't adept at expressing human "emotions."
That was what particularly caught Hong Yeom's eye.
He'd seen Japanese spring paintings too, but even those more explicit in anatomy rarely conveyed "emotion" on faces.
Not due to poor observation or skill. Real humans don't usually twist into exaggerated grimaces of ecstasy like in this Joseon-style work (that's why porn-warped sexual expectations are a bad idea).
Yet this painting conveyed a "realistic" sensation through unhesitating "false" depictions.
The modern-infused cartoonish deformation blew a timeless, ethereal inspiration into this imperial entrepreneur.
Even so, no matter how shrewd Hong Yeom was, publicly sourcing them everywhere was tough. Emperor Kangxi, that once-in-ten-thousand-years genius, had foreseen such degenerates and banned prostitution, spring paintings, and lewd novels alongside it.
So after days of solitary brainstorming, a useful rumor reached Hong Yeom's ears.
"The Joseon king discusses attacking Shenyang every day?"
"Yes. They say it's to avenge Jeongchuk Year, but it's street gossip, so truth is unclear. With the Jungars also stirring oddly, you should know, Commander. Decide carefully whether to report to the Emperor."
"Any activity around the Yalu or Tumen Rivers?"
"Well, uh... We checked with the Capital Eight Banners (Manchu guards for the capital region), and aside from weird rumors in Hunchun about some divine general flying to the sky herding rats a few years back, nothing."
"What the hell is that?"
He couldn't even guess the metaphor. Hong Yeom suspected the Eight Banners had gotten collectively drunk and hallucinated.
Dismissing the subordinate, Hong Yeom pondered.
To exaggerate, simultaneous rebellions east and west. National emergency.
All the courtiers would foam at the mouth, ranting about not inflating matters when even old King Jangmok's loyal hip-sways were unknown. But Hong Yeom thought differently.
As the Mongol White Banner Commander-in-Chief, he really ought to check the east.
Of course, he knew King Jangmok's loyalty too. No invasion coming. Devastating a nation with such artistic talent would be a massive loss to the culture business.
Hong Yeom gathered his thoughts and rose. He should mention it to his "big brother" who shared his love of culture.
Hitler and Kangxi Emperor shared one crucial trait beyond the Holocaust.
Both were aspiring artists.
For Kangxi, it wasn't painting but poetry, though the quality was comparable.
Even in history's constant flip-flops of praise and critique, all agree unanimously: Kangxi's poetry is unreadable. A rare consensus transcending time and place among scholars.
One-word summary of modern-emperor Kangxi's style: industrial mass-production. He penned a whopping 43,689 poems in his life. Sadly, unlike Stalin's tanks, quantity didn't cover quality.
Unlike Hitler, bereft of professors for objective critique, Kangxi thought himself a poetry master. Blame the sycophantic ministers.
This doting emperor showered imperial grace indiscriminately. Out on excursions, he'd grab anyone, bestow his poems as "rewards," leaving Beijing citizens in utter awkwardness.
Every corner inside Beijing's walls bore Kangxi's self-composed verse. Joseon envoys pretended reverence, copied them, then laughed back home.
Such was Kangxi, who at the same time as Hong Yeom, viewed a painting by the same artist.
Obviously, not some obscene spring painting like his brother's—humanity's lord had dignity.
It was general landscapes Jeong Seon sketched at Fayang Temple, unable to resist onlookers' pleas.
Park Jiwon immediately "practiced scholarship" by auctioning them on-site, letting the pair pocket a fat wad from reality's mage gold and end their tour happily.
One auction winner put that painting to the most valuable use.
In the eunuch-weak Qing, a painting via close Manchu nobles pleased Kangxi greatly.
For Jeong Seon, even his rough sketches shining in the Emperor's eyes was fortunate.
And Kangxi's artistic taste was low, but all others first-rate.
Gazing at the splendid Beijing cityscape, Kangxi pondered beyond aesthetics.
Moments later, as always with masterpieces, he scribbled his brilliant poem beside it.
Thus, the painting's value would shine further with imperial glory.
Then he sent word to the Ministry of Rites.
"Is there a procedure for Joseon envoys to enter separately for viewing?"
The Ministry, baffled, replied:
"Not without special grace. They enter via routine morning audience, offer tribute, wish longevity, and leave."
Like most Joseon replies being "Acknowledged," they expected the same.
But not this time.
"I wish to bestow special favor on Joseon envoys. Summon them separately."
The Ministry inwardly screamed. Not just a mammoth new event.
This killed their essential sideline: politely editing the envoys' "arrogant" requests before submission, and skimming fees when granting graces.
Thus, chief envoy Yi Taeng and deputy Jeong Gwangchong floundered amid suddenly prickly Rites officials.
Of course, only responsible officials had headaches. Kim Unhaeng, the duty-free rider out market-hopping carefree, knew nothing.
Park Jiwon not causing trouble was a godsend.
As reward for his safe sightseeing, I locked Hong Daeyong in the inn (he didn't want out after fondling weird stuff anyway) and took only Park Jiwon to the market.
Jo Dongha must've been dropping hints of our king's treasonous heart at nearby taverns and haunts.
Direct appeals to high officials? Impossible for powerless foreign beggar Jo Dongha, and they'd likely dismiss it as nonsense (I'd do the same) without reporting. Better this way.
So, to check results and scout business ops.
Park Jiwon looked thrilled to death.
"Brother! See that? Camels! Camels! First time in my life! Wow, they say the Emperor summoned ten myriad camels for the Jungar conquest—it's real!"
If the Emperor was sane, he wouldn't haul them to Beijing? Probably private-owned.
Why did King Sejong fail with camel legions? East Asia precedent exists here.
Anyway, preserving modern dignity, I shrugged coolly.
"I've seen plenty, so enjoy, little brother. Careful, they stink."
"No, I know you handle horses well, but camels too? Huh, those folks must be Mongol envoys. Never seen that headgear. Jangbok, fetch that hat. Let's see."
"Heh, close enough? I was bored anyway. Don't know clothes, but they're funky-looking. Eoji, let's go. Knock 'em down quick and snag it..."
"Don't."
So heartbreaking. Did my blood-sweat education fail? Is this an imperial envoy or a bandit raid on Beijing?
But Joseon was truly the Land of Eastern Courtesy.
Others escalated it.
Sudden uproar from one market corner.
"Kyaaak!"
"Ruskies!"
Not just me—our whole group's eyes turned hostile.
Those thugs, handed the meeting hall temporarily, built a church and graveyard, squatting like vile lien-holders. Qing had no King Hyeonjong to aid with troops, so ignored it.
And these Russians treated even Jurchens as confidently subhuman—the world's worst barbarians.
Know why folks screamed and fled?
A couple Rusk monks started pissing in the street. Infamous for shitting anywhere.
And the era's male-female separation norm—even Ugauga Jurchens upheld it.
Not quite male-superiority. Men avoided women on streets too.
But Russians, romance-fantasy natives, didn't avoid. They chased.
Most hated trait: if a day without rape, they die—so with no people, they'd mount horses. Especially infamous "nomad" Kazakhs.
One suddenly approached me.
Boiled booze stench. Lucky bastards, no prohibition.
Looked like Russian legation guards. Honestly, no smarter than rutting camels.
Red-eyed scan, then poked my chest.
"What, a guy?"
Another: "This fine, no?"
Native Russian sounding like that? First time hearing.
Gotta grow a beard from now on.
After pounding this guy first.
I told Eoji:
"That thug just said in Western tongue that your beard lacks wisdom, so deceive and kidnap women."
Blond but untanned, less muscled than him trying NTR? Eoji raged.
Crack! Confucian fist to face, guy spewed a bucket of blood tumbling.
Ugh, gruesome. Face like truck-squashed.
Buddy panicked, swung fist—but Eoji grabbed, crushed Slavic forearm like a crisp.
Not worried. I stopped Park Jiwon's antics from modern human rights overkill; by era standards, it was minor spat or "friendly" contact.
But Russians disagreed. They murderously encircled us.
Or tried.
I eyed the camel Park Jiwon mentioned earlier. Our gazes met. I learned one useful fact.
He's rutting too.
Time for matchmaking.
Park Jiwon clutched his chest in relief.
"Whew, close call. Brother, who knew that camel would go berserk, charging and trampling Ruskies? Didn't know camels packed such power."
"Indeed. Ruskies and camels both beast herds, must've wanted fellowship."
Yi Hyeol's affinity isn't animal hypnosis.
But nudging a whip-controlled rutting camel "slightly" makes humans seem sexy she-camels.
Common in nature. Elephants berserking on rhinos.
Qing folk cheered every Ruskie bounce or squash. After paying Beijingers' and Hyeonjong's debts, they eyed Poland's—then Russians fled.
A few had swords but dared not draw.
Who'd stupidly poke a 500kg cactus-chewer with a dainty sword? Maybe Swordmaster Crown Prince Sado Seja with white longsword arts.
Then a Han approached me.
Handsome, scholar garb, but no true official or academic—market Prosperity Association chair type.
My scholar radar pinged. Modern equivalent: suit-wearing yakuza boss?
Anyway, he bowed politely, introduced:
"I bear the surname Yin (殷), and make my trade hearing tales from performers and sundry merchants here."
Prosperity chair confirmed.
"Should've chased those thugs with my boys, but Ruskies so vicious and sly, feared court trouble, stayed back. Who knew such a great hero graced Goryeo lands."
As Jangdong Kim clan's descendant, Later Season's Water Chunsik the Great Hero, I humbly replied:
"Though we dwell in remote fringes, righteousness spans the realm, no?"
"Truly, I see the virtue our old king of Joseon spreads."
Hm? When did our king spread virtue? That's mine.
And "old king"? Usually respectful, but sounds off?
Yin's words were no mere lip service.
Meaningful glance, grabbed my sleeve.
"Follow a moment. I crave lessons on distant Joseon."
Got it. On distant Joseon's rebellion plans?
Yup, connected to gov.
Even in wuxia, gov-martial world non-aggression is just that.
I'd sought your type. Jo Dongha handles Yeongjo's curses; I need Crown Prince support.
I gladly accepted Yin's invite.
Author's Notes
1. Modern humanities scholar Mark C. Elliott said, "Kangxi's poetry is so tediously bad it's loathed; valued only historically." Contemporary Yeonam called it "crude and childish, nothing to see."
As in-story, Kangxi loved viewing masterpieces, often inscribing critiques or poems beside with his "Kangxi Viewed" seal. Considering East Asian painting's white space significance, some question if he truly knew art.
2. Joseon envoys often feigned ignorance in reports while griping Rites abuses. Thus Rites censored/edited requests, sparking fights.
3. Chinese views on Russians from Hong Daeyong's records; Kazakh indiscriminate sex crimes from late Joseon folklore.
4. Untermensch wasn't Nazi-original; Nazi racial policy extreme-plagiarized contemporary US policies, translating American "underman" slur for nonwhites.
5. Kangxi really mobilized over 100k camels. More men/horses of course. And Kim Unhaeng's China visit winter is typical camel rutting season.
6. In Park Jiwon's actual mission, a Joseon servant assaulted Mongol envoys for fun; Mongols laughed it off, no issue.
7. Yin existed, met by Hong Daeyong. Local notable frequenting markets, but not Prosperity chair.