Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: 14. The Way of the Literary Examination (2)
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After I returned to Mokcheon, my parents smoothly handled the marriage arrangements themselves.
The saju reading was unremarkable. In other words, it passed without issue.
In truth, folks who've read the original novel don't put much stock in things like saju.
Even without studying modern science, once your intellect gets sharpened a bit, it's hard to swallow obvious nonsense. Especially the kind that claims to predict the future in ways that defy logic.
Confucius himself didn't outright reject divination—after all, it was an era when human sacrifices were still a thing—but he expressed skepticism along the lines of, "Extensive study reveals the patterns of the past, from which one can infer the future."
They send the saju slips tacitly agreeing in advance anyway, so why spoil the mood over it?
Unless it spits out something disastrous like the couple dying on their wedding night, it's just for atmosphere.
Even that is mostly a ploy to scare people into buying expensive talismans, so fortune-tellers rarely issue grim readings to yangban families.
The yangban don't make a living from it out of pride, but most can read the I Ching and do saju themselves. Pull a trick on them, and you risk losing your hand. In that case, I'd happily wield the hammer myself.
And while the reasons differ from the yangban, cheonmin don't fuss much over saju either. Eoji doesn't even know his birth details—year, month, day, hour—so no one can read it for him.
My wedding would take a bit longer to arrange, so I prioritized holding Yeoni and Eoji's ceremony first.
Yeoni suddenly insisted on it.
Hmm. With Eoji gone for a month, did she feel his absence?
The reason Kim Unhaeng's involvement in this marriage becomes a favor is simple.
Cheonmin have to watch their step even for weddings.
Who wouldn't want to dress nicely for their wedding? But if a cheonmin struts around in something like ornate official robes beyond their station, the neighbors will swarm and beat them senseless before any magistrate even gets involved.
The class system endures only with society's broad consent—not just the yangban upholding it.
Of course, the cheonmin didn't survive by meekly accepting contempt either.
Later, they might grab swords and charge, shoving the noble ideal of human equality right into someone's guts. Butchers, who always have blades handy, are especially quick to decide.
Compared to Joseon military officers training in the Force to wield lightsabers—since real swords are heavy and pricey—butchers have far more hands-on experience. Officials can only try to "reason them down" in such cases.
But for Eoji and Yeoni's wedding, both had overwhelming "persuasiveness" in body and spirit.
Yeoni is a revered shaman, and one look at Eoji convinces anyone.
Plus, refusing Eoji's persuasion risks ugly incidents, and having someone guarantee self-defense afterward is a bigger problem.
Mokcheon Magistrate Kim Unhaeng gifted Eoji custom ornate official robes. Brand new ones, at that.
Clothing in this era is so precious it's used to symbolize wealth, and even excusing it as leniency toward his servant, it's a social bombshell.
Everyone gossiped about that cheonmin groom in the procession.
"How dare a slave wear official robes and ride in a palanquin! These are the end times!"
"Who lent him those robes, forgetting the divide between high and low born?"
"Who could fit in robes big enough for three people? They're new-made. The magistrate gave them."
The smarter Mokcheon locals cleared their throats.
"We ought to thrash him good and teach him a lesson, but since it's from the magistrate, nothing to be done."
"Our magistrate chased out the corrupt clerks to ease the people's burdens and forgives grain loan collections if you work it off. He'd not do this lightly. The groom must have real character, not just because he's his servant. Even Yeoni reveres him as a god."
"Remember how he recently let those idiot creditors from Jiksan—who encroached on the waterways—off without punishment, just ordering restoration? Shows his mercy."
"If it weren't for preserving our excellent administrator's face, I'd have given the rascal a beating myself. Absolutely!"
Everyone nodded in agreement.
It wasn't just fear of Eoji. No matter how strong he is, he's only one man.
Joseon people's resolve to uphold class norms runs so deep they'd hurl stones at government offices. That's not "rough protest"—it's combat.
But mustering that resolve needs justification, and in Mokcheon, none could topple Kim Unhaeng.
His reservoir, repaired school and shrine, disbanded militia securing peace—most achievements are visible, leaving deep impressions on the people.
The grain loans too. Even working them off via the youth strike team, he wiped the ledgers clean as promised (he had no choice; he'd already reported them paid and aced his performance review).
Normally, miss one deadline on grain loans, and you're trapped forever, clerks bleeding you dry with "administrative errors" or "accrued interest" until starvation.
So it felt like debt forgiveness to the masses.
But it wasn't blanket leniency. Slack off, and your labor might "cancel," restoring ledgers—terrifying.
Kim Unhaeng seemed capable of it. His record wasn't just political; it had violent edges too.
People exchanged glances.
"What if we cross the magistrate and end up like Yi Bang? They hushed it as tiger mauling, but really the magistrate skewered Yi Bang with the tiger."
Thus, "Sponsored: Mokcheon Magistrate's Office" silenced most.
After the feast, Eoji hoisted Yeoni's palanquin alone and carried it all the way to Takam Mountain.
Joseon folks love a spectacle, and this free strongman show hooked them quick.
Mouths agape, they trailed the groom. Plenty of local women envied Yeoni.
It was surprisingly smooth—no riots—for Eoji and Yeoni's wedding.
I'd hoped agitators would show for a purge, but Joseon people are sharp.
With that, I shifted to my own wedding. Mine was set, so time for unavoidable pre-wedding business.
The groundwork for my "final score" plan.
I fabricated official business to visit Jiksan Magistrate Song Jinhyeom.
He looked shell-shocked from Inspector Hong Gyehui's probe into the sand-gold weir incident.
Hong skipped Mokcheon for our friendship, but as a sharp official, he'd have been relentless. Luckily, my hot springs report had him retreat like the Japanese after hearing of Feng Shen's death.
So distraught, he hadn't heard my wedding news—now known nationwide. A slight pang of conscience hit me. I'm not that corrupt. Blame the clerks.
Song spoke wearily.
"In my state, I missed the magistrate's joyous news. What times are these? I'll not forget to offer condolences. When the inspector rushed back to Seoul after your letter, I knew not why, but you've granted this old man another favor."
He gripped my hand in thanks. Perfect segue.
"No favor at all. But I've come with urgent news from Seoul."
I whispered conspiratorially, "Just between us." Makes him think the inspector's exit was unrelated, keeping him grateful.
But the rest, straight.
Song paled like a modern guy getting bankruptcy notice post-custody loss.
"Th-this Jiksan! The royal grace!"
My hunch was right.
Some ambitious magistrates squeeze peasants to please the king, welcoming audits.
Song wasn't that type.
I dropped ominous hints at the perfect moment.
The king whispered via a eunuch: hot springs visit coming. All will be destroyed.
As planned, not a month later, Song submitted resignation via inspector.
Suspected of plotting, he couldn't continue—modern "taking responsibility for scandal" vibes. The king approved.
Even stripped bare, he left with release papers and wedding gifts piled high. Truly grateful.
Got it? Back in Seoul, testify to your Sheep zodiac buddies about Kim Unhaeng's loyalty.
Jiksan Magistrate post now vacant. I whistled waiting for court orders, next phase.
Joseon sent magistrates to the boonies, but sudden deaths, dismissals, or abrupt resignations like Song's were common.
Filling every vacancy instantly? Impossible even in 21st-century Korea. Joseon used stopgaps.
Usually, neighboring county/military heads cover it.
But one body can't manage two properly—it's dumping responsibility.
The debate: who gets the hot potato? Cheonan Military Governor's post is vacant too.
Enter Hong Bonghan, king's confidant and pregnant Crown Princess's father (key detail).
He'd blocked my promotion before, claiming decision victory, but settling for points over KO galled him.
Just January, he'd snagged Yeonggunghaejang (former Park Mun-su's post).
That's a top Capital Garrison commander, co-heading State Affairs with other Five Armies chiefs.
No Korean equivalent—maybe North Korea's top military politburo members.
Not stopping there: while I earned in Mokcheon, he'd climbed to Deputy Premier and Rites Minister.
Levels still far apart.
Hong flexed influence on Personnel Ministry.
"Among neighbors, Mokcheon Magistrate Kim Unhaeng's review is tops. He should temporarily cover Jiksan."
Hong knew the royal tour plans intimately—insider perks. Expected On-yang by year's end.
That punk will botch the big event.
Something will go wrong, dismissal or exile—king's temper.
But the proposal was so standard, even the crab lord wouldn't suspect a trap.
The king, thinking it considerate, asked Hong's view. Hong praised my rep, backed it.
"I'm no Qi Xi of Jin recommending his enemy, but Your Highness's lesson from our spat lingers. Kim Unhaeng can surely handle both counties."
The king lauded Hong's fairness, assuming reconciliation.
"All should emulate the Garrison Commander's impartiality. Enact Personnel's proposal."
Thus, I dual-hatted as Mokcheon and Jiksan Magistrate.
Hong smirked on exit.
Kim Unhaeng's done.
NoRon's chick under faction wings dared irk me, ignorant of the world.
Can't master Jiksan quick while tending his turf.
Forget him; focus on court heavyweights.
Personnel's call wasn't irregular—king approved. Even Hong's nudge, assigning reputable neighbor for vacancy followed precedent.
Result: screams echoed in Jiksan offices.
"Aaagh!"
"M-mercy, Magistrate!"
"That clerk's already out cold! No, d-dead?!"
Hah. Don't make me laugh, you sly corrupt clerks.
"If dead, he won't feel it. Eoji, hit the 'dead' one harder!"
"H-he's up, Magistrate! Just closed my eyes a sec!"
Attorney Jang was in peak form today. Resurrection powers and all.
Dare frame your superior? In 21st-century Korea, that's career poison; Joseon? Worse. With you lot, I'll never rise.
How else uphold superior-subordinate virtue? Warning posterity is my duty. Rebellion is treason. Confucius said so in the Spring and Autumn Annals.
My new Jiksan clerks? In a word: "Mokcheon'd."
Thought I'd rubber-stamp like others, dumping on deputies and village heads till new boss?
Dream on. No way, you CCP rejects.
Eoji's killer fists cleaved air. Worried marriage softened him like pro ballplayers? Good.
Each hit bloomed red petals like his nickname. Hit harder.
I'll fulfill the purged Jiksan ex-magistrate's will. Song's share! Song's share! This too!
No need for township chiefs. Slave informants and Lee Jaeun merchants' graft intel suffices to kill them tenfold.
My Mokcheon clerks—my aides and benchmarking consultants—eyed the sky. Odd noises.
"Fate's a bitch. Blame living next to that magistrate."
"Like getting hit by lightning beside a nasty guy."
"Shh! He flinched."
"Your voice's too loud!"
I'll let that slide. I value home retainers. Later, flub Jiksan tasks? Light beating.
Jiksan's bigger than us, more soldiers. But Joseon troops—Mokcheon's Eoji suffices; here, prep needed.
I hired Lee Jaeun toughs as temp bailiffs, spitting on palms, gripping clubs/spears, encircling offices.
Enough. You got "soldiers," not an army? Saw your training.
Thus consoling Jiksan hearts, taking reins, I launched business.
This honey pot's mine now.
Under summer levee pretext, major works on Jiksan's sand-gold streams.
Wow, Jiksan's richer than Mokcheon—bigger budget.
21st-century me follows safety: no-admit construction zone, guarded by my "security" with free-beat authority. Weir guards barred too.
Levees real—paper trail.
Lee Jaeun's cheap premium materials (cheap real, pricey on books) plus my backed Jiksan youth strike team's labor. Lots missed grain loans last year.
While they half-ass dug, screened streams poured gold unchecked.
1. Wedding-night death saju scares for "exorcism" fees happened into the 20th century, not just Joseon. Near Seoul, spells on couple robes warded bridal ghosts.
2. In 1809 (Sunjo 9), Kaesong butchers wore official robes (standard wedding gear), got palanquin—house smashed, lender beaten, stones at office for laxity. Real event.
Sung Daejung (Hong Daeyong concert recorder) wrote: "Butchers lowest, thus most feared." Nothing to lose, united against outsiders.
In Cheongsungjapgi, Mungyeong officials beat butcher slave to death; county butchers mobbed with knives, demanding to gut him. Officials promised execution, talked them down.
3. Swords pricey/heavy; late Joseon officers' shortened. Extremes: scabbardless hilt only—parades only, no draws, self-pay.
4. Two years prior (Yeongjo 24), Cheonan Governor Kim Gyuseok impeached/resigned; no records till Kim Sangyeol (Yeongjo 26.4, Seungjeongwon Diary). Thus vacant spring of Yeongjo 26. Military self-runs fine.