Chapter 59
Chapter 59
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: The Man Who Plays the Flute (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Hong Daeyong was a man of his word.
He kept his promise to his brother-in-law at Wangsimni without fail. A few days after escorting his younger sister back home, he set off for Gwanbuk.
In the meantime, Hong Daeyong had been busy with various tasks.
One of them was securing travel funds, just like Kim Unhaeng had done.
The Namyang Hong clan wasn't short on money, but most of it was tied up in Cheonan, putting Hong Daeyong in a similar bind as Kim Unhaeng.
However, Hong Daeyong's approach differed from Kim Unhaeng's straightforward method of hauling his own cash.
For starters, Kim Unhaeng had never told him, "You absolutely must not follow."
So, interpreting it as "I fully support my brother-in-law's trip to Gwanbuk" wasn't hard for Hong Daeyong at all. After all, as long as they didn't explicitly say "don't come," it counted as an invitation in the world of the socially savvy.
Thus, Hong Daeyong said to Se-hwa,
"I'm planning to head to Gwanbuk in the future to assist Chunsik."
"An undercover inspector receiving private help from his brother-in-law? And what connection does my brother have to Gwanbuk anyway?"
"Since when has your husband been such a stickler for the rules... No, don't glare at me like that. Anyway, we don't have relatives in Gwanbuk, but there's always a way. These are matters of the outside world that a woman wouldn't understand. So, I need some funds..."
What could she do when her husband had supposedly given permission and he kept insisting? Though suspicious, Se-hwa handed over the money. The debt of gratitude for helping arrange the farewell with Kim Unhaeng at Wangsimni played a part too.
Of course, there's no such thing as a free lunch—that's the (newly minted) motto of the Jangdong Kim clan. Se-hwa entrusted Hong Daeyong with various errands and bits of news-gathering.
Next up was transportation.
Hong Daeyong visited Pyo Cheolju, the manager of Chunsik Ranch, with whom he had little prior acquaintance, and buttered him up.
"You must be the loyal and capable estate manager my brother-in-law always praises. Chunsik summoned me to Gwanbuk, so I've come to borrow a couple of horses."
Pyo Cheolju had a rough idea of why Kim Unhaeng had gone there.
No one would dare assassinate an undercover inspector, but as Chae Je-gong could attest, travel itself was perilous. Helping out made sense.
Besides, Pyo Cheolju, who sought Kim Unhaeng's protection, had no reason to offend his brother-in-law. He gladly provided two fine horses.
And so, Hong Daeyong arrived in Gwanbuk without spending a single coin of his own.
Since it wasn't his money, he could be generous too.
Chae Je-gong, who had been squatting by the wall that night and then met Hong Daeyong, ended up at a sort of guesthouse enjoying a hearty dinner—all thanks to these circumstances.
"I'm a scholar of the Hong clan from Cheonan, currently wandering while awaiting the royal decree after taking the civil service exam in Seoul. Whoa, you eat fish with your hands? Your fingers are all greasy. Don't drink the soup straight from the bowl like that... Aha, I knew it. Now your clothes are a mess. Well, they were a mess to begin with, so no big deal. Tell me your name and story after you've eaten... Hey, I said don't talk with your mouth full. It's spraying everywhere."
Chae Je-gong's voracious eating, like a man possessed, was suspicious enough to raise alarms.
And it killed Hong Daeyong's appetite just as much. Excusing himself to the outhouse, he stepped outside briefly.
Changdae, who had been waiting for that moment, sidled up and whispered in his master's ear.
"Even I, a lowly commoner, can tell from how he scarfs it down that he's a no-good scum from a long line of scum. Bet he's a bandit who stabbed a yangban on the mountain path and stole his clothes. Isn't that Dog-Beating Stick Lord's outfit, by chance?"
Hong Daeyong yanked Changdae's ear until he yelped.
And while he had it pinched, he whispered back into it.
"I don't remember the clothes, but it can't be. Would Kim Chunsik let a beggar take his clothes? He'd be the one stripping the beggar. Don't butt into your master's business so rudely—go fetch a bottle of liquor."
"Young master, you're trying to get this slave's head chopped off for breaking the liquor ban..."
"Is this Hanyang? Folks here don't even know what a liquor ban is. Slip the house owner some coin like before, and he'll hand it over for sure."
In this era, liquor wasn't just a luxury—it was a staple in most of the world (which is why Yeongjo banned a necessity).
Joseon was even more so. While China and Japan boasted vibrant cultures in other areas, Joseon lagged in two: male homosexuality and tea ceremonies.
Thus, liquor had myriad uses: substitute drinking water, medicine, treatment for mental ailments, and anywhere a bit more kick than water was needed.
Chae Je-gong fell into the last category.
After drowning his pent-up rage in booze, he finally noticed his pitiful state and cleared his throat awkwardly.
"My apologies for the impropriety."
Hong Daeyong chuckled heartily and elbowed Changdae in the shin, who stood by with the liquor bottle. About to quip, "That was no ordinary impropriety," Changdae yelped and fell silent.
With Changdae now in "do not disturb" mode, Hong Daeyong turned back to Chae Je-gong and asked for his name and tale. After a moment's thought, Chae Je-gong replied.
"My clan is Chae, from Hongju (modern-day Hongseong County in South Chungcheong). I came to visit an elder from our family who relocated here long ago. The locals are hostile; I couldn't find shelter, my underlings fled with the purse strings, leaving me truly surrounded by foes. I'll never forget your grace."
Hiding his undercover inspector role was easy with a lie, but a surname inherited from his father? Impossible.
And his hometown was hard to conceal too. Of all things, he and Hong Daeyong...
"No kidding, a fellow Hosan native! No wonder your speech felt familiar from the start. We countrymen must help each other."
Both hailed from Chungcheong Province. Chae Je-gong figured he'd made a smart call.
Though "fellow townsmen" was a stretch. From Hongju to Cheonan, then trekking further would reach Suwon, where Sado Seja would later be buried. Better to call them distant compatriots.
But Chae Je-gong deeply agreed with Hong Daeyong's words.
He had to if he wanted to live. The two shared cups in the hot bonds of regional scholarly brotherhood. The liquor ban seemed to have collapsed gasping over Cheollyeong Pass.
Then Hong Daeyong suddenly asked,
"You must've passed through this region—did you see a group of travelers with a scholar about my age? I arranged to meet my brother-in-law during his tour."
By now, Chae Je-gong had plenty of clues to deduce Hong Daeyong's identity.
He didn't know the fine details of Kim Unhaeng's family, but he knew his wife's family was the Namyang Hong clan of Cheonan, the Torhong branch. "Brother-in-law" confirmed it—this was Kim Unhaeng's.
"Took the exams young, just like him."
Had he stayed in the court, Hong Daeyong might've earned a reputation as a top graduate, but during his exam success, Chae Je-gong had been exiled.
Mulling it over, Chae Je-gong realized too late that dodging the question would look suspicious. He blurted,
"W-well, I didn't see them, but coming from the south into Goyon County, what path is there besides to Hamheung? No reason to veer west unless via Sam-su or Gapsan. Even on a tour, those deep mountains are too risky."
Hong Daeyong smiled faintly.
"I see. Then I'll ask along the way to Hamheung. Are you headed there too, sir?"
Even if not, he'd have to say yes. Parting from Hong Daeyong meant beggar status again. Chae Je-gong nodded.
"Yes. In Hamheung, I'll seek aid from an acquaintance of our family elder."
Not entirely a lie, since he planned to lean on the observer. Chae Je-gong knew enough to mix truth into lies for believability.
"What more is there to say? Two learned scholars on the road—better poetry companions don't exist. We'll trade verses with every step; time will fly."
"In these times, a scholar who appreciates such refined elegance is a rarity. I'll never forget this kindness."
Chae Je-gong bowed repeatedly in thanks and retired. Hong Daeyong naturally took his pipe and brazier outside.
But he just twirled the pipe idly. Hong Daeyong didn't smoke.
Incidentally, he even disliked composing poetry. Science track, after all.
"He brought up Hamheung first. Spot on, it seems."
Hong Daeyong's first impression of Chae Je-gong was just a wandering beggar scholar.
Recalling the stereotypical undercover inspector wasn't logic—it was an artist's intuition.
But conversing with him engaged Hong Daeyong's other side: the mathematician's logic, piecing it together.
As Se-hwa had hesitantly confirmed—"You're really going to help, right?"—Kim Unhaeng was assigned the "twelve eastern counties."
From there, matching Kim Unhaeng's reasoning was easy. His rival headed west.
Considering the weight of an undercover inspector role, this mission was undeniably a pivotal point in Kim Unhaeng's career.
Yet directly obstructing this "Chae scholar" would be tough for Kim Unhaeng. Getting caught would be disastrous.
Judging by the man's state, maybe Kim Unhaeng had bribed a servant (typical of that brother-in-law), but it wasn't certain.
So, he'd "help" himself.
That's what he'd told his sister to get the money.
A man's word is gold. He kept his promises. Hong Daeyong truly was a man of honor.
Sitting on the porch, gazing at the moon, he smiled meaningfully.
When Kim Unhaeng first arrived in Joseon, he'd thought Yeongjo's reign was peaceful.
But that held only in the sense of no foreign wars.
The disasters Yeongjo had to smash, burn, or let pass were too numerous to list.
Easier to say the opposite.
Yeongjo faced every calamity a state could endure, save one massive foreign invasion.
Among them, the worst in the early 1750s? Epidemics, hands down.
Diseases varied, but the result was always mass death. Not just humans—livestock too, precious draft animals vanishing like burning straw piles.
At its peak two years prior, Yeongjo 26th year, Gyeong-o (1750), conservative tallies showed over 200,000 dead. More than Hanyang's population.
Total over years? Annals' memorials cite "millions." As former Chief State Councillor Jo Hyeon-myeong said, worse than war.
Normally, a nation collapses or grinds to a halt. That death tolls were even tallied shows Joseon's exquisite bureaucracy.
But it didn't soothe the populace much.
People spun hypotheses rooted in history and tradition.
Even modern man Kim Unhaeng, then Mokcheon magistrate, found the "king's lack of virtue caused this" intriguing.
Yet the scientific monarch outdid moderns. Yeongjo rejected such superstitions.
The Veritable Records boldly quote his science-filled rebuke of primitive plague theories.
"Ministers, don't just blame the king's virtue—do your duties fully."
And, as always, added words for the people.
"Provide relief and aid with extra care; defer all dues, regardless of rank, until the autumn harvest. All tribute is the people's hard-earned blood."
Yet just four months after that touching edict, Yeongjo fueled an Oncheon hot-spring death march with that blood. Post-harvest, so not a lie.
No wonder Kim Unhaeng wondered if heavenly wrath could exist despite his status window.
And now, reviewing northeast intel via Hamgyeong Provincial Office channels, he thought the same.
Rodent plagues raged—not past tense, ongoing.
Not isolated kid-bitten-by-rat cases. Food security and disease control both threatened.
Naturally, Kim Unhaeng recalled Honam's locusts.
Animals gone berserk out of nowhere.
Didn't it smack of heaven's warning to a virtue-less king losing the mandate?
My goal isn't charging off to punish some magistrate.
Observer Hwang Jeong hinted that if he showed no sincerity solving the near-ruined Yukjin issues, no cooperation on my performance review.
In other words, beating Chae Je-gong is Yeongjo's test; to pass, first ace Hwang Jeong's. Clever bastards.
So this shifted from surprise inspection to administrative matter.
Thus, gather data methodically here at the office, ponder solutions.
Luckily, Jeong Yu (鄭楺), the capital-sent Capital Liaison (kind of mid-level clerk), helped a ton.
I didn't know him, but he knew me.
Jeong Yu, during Sungkyunkwan days, went on strike (Gwondang) demanding to exterminate the Soron "traitors," got exiled.
So he empathized deeply with the Noron Four Loyalists' kin, screwed by those same Soron rebels.
How grateful. I matched his fiery ex-student-president ideology with nods, feigning righteous fury. Thinking of George Yeo made method acting easy.
As a token of our "grand cause" brotherhood, Jeong Yu shared office stats.
From them, grasping this biohazard's scope, I plunged into deep thought.
Hwang Jeong didn't demand I turn Yukjin into paradise overnight.
Yukjin hadn't been livable in 300 years since Sejong's first invasion—and wouldn't be for another 300, unbeknownst to others.
Hwang wanted visible wins: calm the people below, report success above.
Prime example: repelling the rodent legions now crossing the Tumen River.
Their ferocious momentum seemed bent on reclaiming the area for the old Tumen Jurchens crushed under some ancient tyrant.
I agreed with Hwang. With Druid King aboard, merits awaited. My first Seoul test halved them to other homes.
But soon realized: this was orders of magnitude worse.
Seoul was shooing houseguests; this was verbally turning back a border-crashing horde of refugees.
I chewed my lip, shaking off thoughts of true divine punishment.
Yeongjo's laundry list of punish-worthy deeds made it tough.
But as a modern man, logic kicked in.
"Why are the rat pups crossing the Tumen?"
That sparked it—I snatched fresh paper.
As Yun Pil-deok said over ginseng, beyond official trade, locals crossed borders aplenty.
Borderlands gonna border. Legit to illicit, teetering.
No nation seals that perfectly. Even modern North Korea can't—hence defectors.
So Joseon-Qing offices don't blindly crack down on sightings.
They'd scatter like sand, uncontrollable. Like modern cops tracking gangs but not arresting casually.
Maintain ties for intel peacetime; nab show trials on central orders or incidents. Usual suspects who ghosted niceties get got.
I grabbed intel from such processes.
Not life-or-death secrets, as Jeong Yu's shares showed—official royal reports.
"Recently, a man from their side (Qing) crossed, said Hamgyeong's famine isn't as bad as theirs—shows their horror."
Not our king's mandate issue—theirs. Makes sense; heaven's their jurisdiction.
Rats flee not because here sucks.
Because there sucks more.
I zeroed in on that.