Chapter 153
Chapter 153
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 153
Chapter Title: Spring in Hanyang (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Yi Geum had grasped one fact correctly.
A disquieting aura was drifting across the northern borders right now.
Chosun, steadfast in its isolationist policy, maintained a blockade on all its frontiers much like 21st-century North Korea.
That meant the number of people sneaking across the borders was about the same—
in other words, staggeringly high.
And lately, this smuggling had surged even more dramatically.
But this had nothing to do with treason.
With ten thousand troops garrisoned in Shenyang, the number of their accompanying kütler servants and other support staff had to be even greater. In this Manchuria, where the continental public road policy was in full swing, it amounted to a population boom.
Household registration growth naturally led to economic vitality—a straightforward flow.
But if one had to pinpoint another reason, it was Kim Unhaeng's doing.
The contract Kim Unhaeng had half-forced with the Dara Gwa Public Army King was no trifling matter.
Right after returning to Seoul, Kim Unhaeng had summoned Gil-sang of Hamgyong Province with the mindset of, "I'm busy plotting rebellion as it is—don't bother me."
Through him, he'd passed watches, mechanical devices, and paintings to brokers in Pyeongan Province, onward to Yuryongmok.
Hong Yeom, true to his royal blood, stuck to Jurchen traditions in trade—thuggish haggling—so Kim Unhaeng hadn't profited much. He'd handed over the watches and paintings at domestic prices.
But Hong Yeom was stingy only with money; otherwise, he was a generous king.
While the Queen Consort and Queen Dowager died in Seoul, Hong Yeom received Chosun news bundled with Kim Unhaeng's goods and passed it to his brother.
Deaths of a queen consort or dowager warranted reports to the emperor, of course. But routine updates like this didn't merit a special envoy; they were handled by the Shengjing Bureau, the local government overseeing Chosun affairs.
And Hong Yeom headed that bureau.
Receiving word that two figures who could check the king had died in succession, Hong Yeom attached Kim Unhaeng's intel like a sticky note and sent it to Beijing.
<The recently deceased Chosun queen consort had been inexplicably hated by the king her whole life. Days before her death, she vomited blood and showed suspicious symptoms, but the king said, "I have no reason to grieve," skipped the mourning rites, and went straight to his son-in-law's house.>
<The Chosun king was habitually unfilial to his mother (the Queen Dowager), once confining her to the cold palace (referring to when she descended to the cold palace to dissuade the king during the sixth abdication incident) and, when she fell ill, even barring acupuncture treatments (needles and moxibustion—here, Chun-sik armor).>
It wasn't that the Road King Yoonwang had been manipulated by Kim Unhaeng for the sake of face. From Hong Yeom's perspective, it was the reverse.
To keep humanity's master perpetually doubting the Chosun king's character, Hong Yeom needed to cling to the Shenyang Bureau and rake in profits. Kim Unhaeng's intelligence was useful to him too.
Hong Yeom smiled in satisfaction.
"A friend worth cultivating long-term."
If Kim Unhaeng had heard, he'd have exploded (behind his back) with, "How dare some lowly Untermensch Jurchen scum try to buddy up with me?" But to Hong Yeom, this was the pinnacle of generosity.
The generous Hong Yeom decided to grant a special favor to the Chosun people.
By not punishing smugglers who risked their lives crossing the Yalu River and not reporting them to Chosun either.
Now, smugglers only had to evade Chosun troops. And naturally, one's own army was easier to breach than a foreign one.
The great era of Manchurian smuggling had dawned.
At that time, the Pyeongan Governor was Min Baek-sang.
The same man who'd fiercely argued to the king, "Unless you kill off all the Soron, it's as good as admitting you killed your brother," before being exiled to Geoje Island. He'd also been the first to advocate military downsizing in Gyeongsang Province, inspiring Kim Unhaeng's Three Reforms for State Affairs.
In the original history, he'd been fated to take responsibility for failing to stop Crown Prince Sado's Pyongyang excursion and commit suicide.
This time, Min Baek-sang was again tearing his hair out over the "Crown Prince's trip to Pyongyang."
Despite searching every overflowing gisaeng house in Pyongyang while hunting for the prince, he'd only heard maddening rumors that the world's greatest lecher was surely behind it, given how harshly the Pyeongan Governor was cracking down on gisaeng inspections.
Letters from Noron friends, arriving with official stamps alongside the directives (possible under the relay post system), suggested the king truly had dementia.
Old age brings such things. Min Baek-sang understood fully.
His own grandfather had stopped recognizing family two years before passing—likely confusing his son with others.
But the border chaos was real. The ten thousand Qing troops on the border were real too.
So Min Baek-sang reported truthfully alongside the secured prisoners, including the arms smuggler Kim Seong-sam caught red-handed at Bamwol.
<No signs of imminent invasion, but border vagrants have increased lately, so we're intensifying crackdowns. The Crown Prince has not come to Pyongyang.>
Rationally, since the Pyeongan Governor wasn't a Crown Prince partisan, his word that the prince wasn't there should prompt abandoning that hypothesis and looking elsewhere.
But obsession prevents such logic.
It's not a rare symptom; everyone has a touch of it. People see what they want to see.
Yi Geum was no exception.
Yi Geum judged not that "the Crown Prince isn't in Pyongyang," but that "the Pyeongan Governor failed to find him."
At least he stopped short of the disastrous conclusion that "the Pyeongan Governor is hiding him," so Yi Geum's wits weren't entirely dulled.
His conclusion had basis: the Pyeongan Governor's report of "more border vagrants lately."
Anyone could see it screamed "pre-war Japanese spies infiltrating," like before the Imjin War.
The third Hoeoran was imminent. Yi Geum believed it utterly.
The next day, Yi Geum gathered ministers at the State Tribunal and declared gravely,
"Rebellion looms at our very elbow and armpit. I must dispatch troops to Pyeongan Province to thwart it and wash away past humiliations."
The ministers foamed at the mouth, naturally.
Appeals of national mourning wouldn't sway that (Queen Dowager-certified) wretch anyway, but practical issues abounded.
With Qing troops in Manchuria, even breathing required caution—massing and marching north without evidence? Was he jealous of Injo's stele and itching to erect his own at Samjeondo?
Domestic hurdles were formidable too. Minister of the Board of War Yi Hu offered a pained report.
"We have no expeditionary forces ready to muster and send now, and the elite troops of each garrison or provincial armies can't be spared."
Normally, a royal command could scrape together even the ragtag provincial armies. They'd barely match a tenth of their rosters, but better than nothing.
But the Three Reforms had explicitly disbanded most provincial armies, with survivors converted via Kim Unhaeng's tricks in Jiksan and Mokcheon—bribes to magistrates—leaving truly none behind.
Yi Geum sighed.
"That villain Kim Unhaeng's schemes! Whispering twisted stratagems for the unfilial son on one side while crippling the realm's military with slander on the other—like rats gnawing the pillars till the house collapses."
The ministers were dumbfounded. Hadn't he approved the Three Reforms himself and promoted their authors?
Yi Geum hadn't intended it, but the more he blamed Kim Unhaeng, the more the court filled what he'd lacked most: official salary and prestige.
Until now, Kim Unhaeng had been just a "polite young man good at showing respect," not a political partner on par with grandees. He'd never even held a rank-two post.
But now, in high officials' minds, Kim Unhaeng was etching himself as the next-generation symbol opposing the king.
Of course, the ministers couldn't mock Yi Geum forever.
The king knew northern advance was delusion. Most of the prior talk was mere groundwork.
Yi Geum's true plan commenced.
"Dismiss the Minister of War. When royal command descends, obey—no prattling excuses in the throne room. Have you forgotten the tale of the flood-and-drought bandits? Appoint Hong Gye-hui as the new Minister."
Hong Gye-hui, Kim Yonggyeom's closest friend and known for his bond with Kim Unhaeng via his nephew, broke out in cold sweat.
The reason the king—who wanted to devour Kim Unhaeng—appointed him was obvious.
One wrong nod, and his head rolls—so reject whatever order follows at all costs.
If Hong Gye-hui echoed his predecessor Yi Hu from three seconds ago, he'd be branded a Kim Unhaeng conspirator.
Hong Gye-hui swallowed his true desire to collude and responded emotionally,
"Yes. Command me."
Then Yi Geum voiced what he really wanted.
"The former minister's words have merit. The traitors' scheme isn't driving a great army north anyway. With barbarian hordes poised to strike, I'll lead the Capital Garrison to Namhansanseong.
The Royal Guard Battalion shall hold Bukhansanseong with the Arsenal Bureau defending Gyeonggi, the Five Armies Headquarters handles Seoul contingencies. The Royal Navy shall sortie both inner and outer squadrons to the Han River, patrol Gyeonggi and Hoseo coasts, and haul back as much stockpiled tribute grain as possible."
Hong Gye-hui first replied, "Yes."
Then, compressing time, he mentally cursed the king thoroughly before pondering.
It wasn't illogical.
As King Jangmok's spine proved, Jurchen assaults were like beam weapons.
Light speed equals information speed. The "strike" arrives simultaneously with the "fact" of attack, theoretically unavoidable.
News of Qing crossing the Yalu would mean it was too late. Chosun, burned at light speed before, had learned that lesson.
Namhansanseong (which he'd defended personally) was ironclad, never breached by Jurchens. If Qing truly invaded, sooner the better.
And if Park Mun-su was right that Kim Unhaeng lurked near the capital, even more so.
Namhansanseong in southeastern Gwangju County dodged both "Crown Prince charging from Pyongyang with Jurchens" and "Kim Unhaeng responding from the capital."
Hold there, and the rest fell to Chosun's trusty 400-year-old outsourced militia firm: the righteous armies.
If a son dared sell the country to barbarians to strike his father, it warranted not just Samnang-geunwang Army but Eight Provinces Righteous Army.
Hong Gye-hui recalled the adage that even dementia patients occasionally regain sanity. The problem was it hitting him now.
He continued smoothly,
"But alongside withdrawal preparations, it would be wise to reissue orders to Pyeongan and Hwanghae troops: station soldiers along the seven counties near Uiju and the nine garrisons from Munseongjin in Hwanghae mountains, enforcing strict discipline to sharpen morale."
The places Hong Gye-hui named formed Chosun's northwest defensive line, a transversal axis against expected Qing advances.
In a word, Chosun's Maginot Line—like in outcome, ultimately useless.
Hong Gye-hui didn't expect it to hold. It was just to corral northwest troops under control, preventing idiocies like preemptive strikes on Qing—unthinkable horrors.
"A sound plan. Leave details to the Minister of War and State Tribunal. Deliberate thoroughly, but complete withdrawal prep in two days."
Even Hong Gye-hui couldn't reply instantly.
Forty-eight hours—the time from that great swiftest monarch receiving news of Tangun Platform defeat to evacuating the capital. Half of it porters. Who dared mimic whose authority now?
Folks here didn't know, but King Sukjong took longer evacuating his household.
Instead of unassailable Hong Gye-hui, Right State Councillor Kim Sang-ro voiced objection.
He too wished to be cut loose. Should've emulated Park Mun-su sooner.
"No border incidents yet. Beacons burn single file. The court's hundred offices, equipment, and personnel are hardly few, and we fear alarming the people."
Yi Geum ignored him.
"Capital Garrison, secure ancestral tablets, imperial seal, and ledgers from the Royal Shrine. Remember '兵貴神速.' No elders left in the Inner Palace to serve differently. Palace ladies and eunuchs, take only closest child attendants."
Drill Commander Hong Bonghan couldn't blurt, "Hey, man, no one in the Inner Palace? Sure, your consorts, but what about my daughter?"
Scarier was Crown Princess Consort Hong linking in the king's mind to "barbarian conspirator's wife." If he killed his son, a daughter-in-law was nothing.
Stay silent now, maneuver later.
And Hong Bonghan wouldn't stop at protecting his daughter.
Toppling the government and plunging the people into misery on stacked delusions and wild inferences—the once-shrewd king had gone mad.
Time for his son-in-law to retire too.
Meanwhile, Kim Unhaeng hadn't idled.
He'd been the busiest. Disguised as a shepherd lurking at Chun-sik Ranch, he'd schemed ceaselessly.
He couldn't yet show his face directly to the Noron Chundang. Via Go Bonghwan, he'd sent a letter to Hong Daeyong.
Wind back two days to when Yi Geum received the Pyeongan report; Hong Daeyong sat on his verandah reading the missive.
One hand idly plucked his geomungo. Like when he'd pondered snaring Kim Unhaeng before.
Long after, Hong Daeyong tore the letter, tossed it into the brazier, and called Changdae.
"Tell my serving scholar-friends to come to Gangnam Daeseong."
In June 1772, Hong Daeyong hosted a music salon at his home, dubbed Yuchunwo (Spring Retaining Village).
Park Jiwon recorded his deep impression of attending; Kim Yonggyeom drew great inspiration there too.
That historic event now unfolded fifteen years early here in Gangnam Daeseong.
Hong Daeyong's playing had once swayed Kim Yonggyeom to enable King Sukjong's groom hunt.
His innate talent, honed despite Kim Unhaeng's laments over years, shone brighter.
Even Jangdong's genuine luxury goods drew crowds just for his music. He'd even "converted" Qing barbarian priests (missionaries) via court music principles (Hong Daeyong's claim).
The Chundang folk summoned by Hong Daeyong felt spring's lingering peace in his playing. Fitting Hanyang's spring.
Hong Daeyong halted deliberately.
Waiting for eyes to focus, he spoke slowly,
"Allow me to speak briefly on loyalty and morality."
An odd topic for Chundang.
Generations of factional blood feuds over "what is loyalty?" mingled here. Soron like Seo Myeong-seon or Namin Ahn Jeong-bok tensed especially.
But Hong Daeyong pivoted to others first.
"You may have heard our young leader Kim Chun-sik was dismissed to his in-laws. Not so. Kim Chun-sik now upholds the yangban code of loyalty alone."
Faces screamed "advanced Western joke from Qing?" Park Jiwon's was near visual assault.
Hong Daeyong, emulating his brother-in-law, ignored them steelily.
Emulating wasn't wrong. At this moment, Hong Daeyong was Kim Unhaeng's spokesman.
"Two centuries of east-west faction splits, branching like pruned trees till knots defy untangling. Who here saw those days? Even Shinchuk and Im-in prison scandals from the late previous reign, only a few endured young. Yet we've all clung to them in strife."
Hong Daeyong's sensitive jab discomforted Sim Hwan-ji.
"Loyalty is inherited from ancestors, Duke Deok-bo—what do you mean?"
"Hwiwon is right. Then let me ask: many Soron descendants here—did Chun-sik betray his ancestor the Four Loyalists? If so, why are you here, sir?"
Gasps rippled.
Hong Daeyong pierced head-on the literati factions' mutual extermination mindset.
The weakness they'd pretended ignored.
But without ripping and stitching this wound now, Chundang was doomed.
They knew, gathering here—realists enough to not pretend otherwise.
Hong Daeyong banked on that,
"We here, like me, saw greater loyalty in Kim Chun-sik, no?"
No one said, "Yours was ambition, not loyalty—strategic marriage for your sister." All forgot the music, riveted on Hong Daeyong.
Author's Note
1. Smuggler Kim Seong-sam was a real person caught right then.
2. Yeongjo did say "I have no reason to grieve" at the Queen Consort's death (Yeongjo 33rd year, 2nd month, 15th day entry), but context was "I have no reason to grieve, but the Crown Prince is utterly devastated—what to do?"—differs from Kim Unhaeng's distortion.
Yeongjo did neglect the Queen Consort, yet penned her biography himself. Though it reveals intent in lines like giving ginseng and aconite to no avail (lumping in excusing his brother's case)...
3. "Flood-and-drought bandits" refers to when, under Emperor Wu of Han, Minister Gip-am inspected Henan amid disasters—witnessing parents eating children—opened granaries on his own authority sans permission to aid folk. The strict Gip-am later begged punishment for "robbing the treasury."
Yeongjo cited this during Crown Prince Sado's early regency.
He monitored all the prince's duties, then griped, "Don't bother the prince with details—handle it yourselves. Know flood-and-drought bandits?" (Implying, like Gip-am, report back and take responsibility.)
Learning the prince's edict "Don't harm the people," he mocked before ministers, "That's on you to manage. Think this candlestick grew itself, not from the people's blood?"—hardly pro-prince.
Twisted, it reads "Didn't really mean for the prince to handle state affairs in regency—just make him a figurehead."