Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Loyal Retainers and Wicked Ministers (1)
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Park Chisun, who lived near the capital in Yangju, was a scholar getting by reasonably well.
To be precise, he came from a family of interpreters, but in his neighborhood, he was treated as a yangban, and the locals more or less accepted him as such.
Even so, he had gotten involved in major national politics.
Three years ago, he had submitted a petition suggesting that Kings Sukjong and Hyeonjong be enshrined alongside Ming emperors at the imperial altar.
In the best light, it could be seen as elevating the rites honoring former kings. In the worst, it was akin to the unprecedented petition for establishing an imperial era name that Kim Yakhaeng would later submit during the early Joseon era.
At the time, King Yeongjo unusually granted Park Chisun an audience.
Given Yeongjo's temperament, it was likely meant to publicly humiliate him as an example.
He probably wanted to ask something like, "Hey, you bastard, if the Qianlong Emperor invades, you're the one who'd kowtow first, right?" But in a Joseon alive with anti-Qing righteousness, he couldn't say it outright.
So Yeongjo phrased it differently.
"There is no precedent for enshrining a vassal king at an imperial altar. How would you arrange the spirit tablets? How would you approach, withdraw, and bow?"
Park Chisun stammered before barely managing to reply.
"Wouldn't that be for the court to decide?"
If Kim Unhaeng had heard it, he would have thought of the armchair strategists in civil service exam prep cafes sharing their "experiences."
But Yeongjo wasn't a 21st-century civil servant. There was no reason to patiently listen to these self-important schemes from people who showed up at his office during the day and called the duty room at night.
And Park Chisun wasn't a 21st-century complainer using officials as stress-relief punching bags without fear of lawsuits.
So Yeongjo treated Park Chisun like his own son.
"You come before the king with excuses about deferring to the court without having thought it through? You must harbor arrogant and malicious intentions."
Having crushed Park Chisun, Yeongjo voiced his real concern.
"Do not craft insidious petitions that incite the masses or spread reckless words that cross the Yalu River."
After ejecting Park Chisun, Yeongjo lectured the crown prince.
"Such men's motives are usually obvious. They seek not to elevate the royal house, but themselves."
Yeongjo's insight was spot on. Park Chisun had indeed sought to elevate himself.
And even after being thrown out, his goal remained valid.
For a scholar to receive a royal scolding was like a gangster going to prison.
Depending on how you looked at it, it could even be a badge of honor—especially if it was for anti-Qing righteousness.
In fact, some among the younger scholars quietly praised Park Chisun's spirit. This was how Joseon's scholars heightened their honor.
Three years later, as Park Chisun idly planned for Chuseok without much thought, he couldn't help but suspect the king truly despised him.
It was due to a letter from his cousin living in the capital.
The letter, delivered by the village headman, had a small paper tag attached—apparently some new stamp from the government.
With Chuseok, letters flew back and forth, so Park Chisun casually tore it open.
<It is only proper to send meat for Chuseok, but with not even a scrap of paper or a penny to spare, and our house in ruins, it was hard to entrust anyone. Thanks to His Majesty's grace, I finally got a stamp and can send this letter. Mother is ill, the children clutch empty bellies, and ancestral rites are out of the question, but I felt I must greet you...>
Written in vernacular, the meaning sank straight into his brain without translation. Park Chisun ground his teeth.
Honestly, it was a distant cousin he barely remembered until seeing the name.
The reason for no contact was simple: the cousin was too busy scraping by daily to visit, and in such straits, hiring someone was unthinkable.
But with the king suddenly making letters practically free, now even dogs and pigs were scribbling nonsense.
Park Chisun finally understood why Che Manri had dared defy the fearsome king by banning literacy for all.
Reconnecting with estranged kin should prompt praise for the king's grace, but unfortunately, Park Chisun felt no such urge.
In Joseon terms, this letter was as good as holding a knife to your throat demanding money.
At best, he'd gain a miserly reputation and lose face locally. At worst, if this not-too-distant cousin died starving and left his name as a dying message, Park Chisun could be dragged off for "corrupting customs."
Park Chisun swallowed hard. He already believed the king despised him. It was entirely plausible.
Soon after, three or four more letters arrived with the same gist—from poor friends and relatives nearby.
Park Chisun gave up. Better to toss some barley, rice bran, or dried pollack and forget it.
Even so, Park Chisun was bold enough to petition for an imperial era name. Instead of despair, he sought ways to minimize losses.
By using this newfangled thing that had tricked him.
Not the mail, though. He wasn't keen on entrusting gifts to official couriers either.
"I hear there's folks these days carrying loads in and out of the capital for cheap."
Lately, with the king's Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan or whatever sucking up labor, idle young men had thinned out everywhere.
Chun-sik Delivery's low rates shone even brighter.
Reluctant to spare servants during harvest, Park Chisun tallied the costs.
Then chose rational spending.
People like Park Chisun were legion.
This unfamiliar Chuseok scene in the fall of Yeongjo 28 was one reason the Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan system hadn't sparked massive riots despite soaring prices.
Stamps and Chun-sik Delivery enabled rapid exchange of surplus goods and daily necessities around the capital.
It partially resolved the practical scholars' perennial gripe: "Fish rot into fertilizer on the coast, while inland folk can't even taste salted seafood."
Of course, Chun-sik Delivery couldn't handle most Seoul logistics. Even modern firms struggle with such rapid expansion.
Kim Unhaeng had created a kind of "buzz."
From mild reactions like,
"Is sending gifts unusually trendy this Chuseok?"
To more serious ones like,
"Everyone's prosperous this year, sending heaps of gifts, but why does Cadet So-and-so ignore it? Such rudeness warrants barring him from next lecture."
It spread in all directions.
Many scrambled into action.
Not just Chun-sik; they sent servants or grabbed passersby, anything to ship goods.
Kim Unhaeng hadn't dreamed of it, but delivery worked like a financial institution.
Finance circulates money, and Joseon still relied mostly on barter.
Yet price policies needed deliberate intervention, especially in crop-poor Hanyang.
And Hanseong Magistrate Park Mun-su was a master controller.
Seeing the king's policy, he abandoned dreams of lavish ancestral tables for the masses.
Instead, he focused solely on essentials: rice and salt prices.
No matter how eager the king for bribes, he'd never yield those to Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan. Thus, Park Mun-su could manage them.
Not easy. Fairly, anyone else would have failed.
He begged the king, diverted Balanced Distribution Office grain to Seoul, and wired Pyeongan Province—His Majesty's faithful ATM in crises. The message mirrored Park Chisun's letter.
But Pyeongan Inspector Hong Sanghan was the late crown prince's maternal uncle from the medicine incident—Hong Bonghan's brother, Noron and pro-Qing faction. No friend to Little Noron Park Mun-su.
Hong Sanghan showed open displeasure.
But Park Mun-su never scrupled means in work.
Not for nothing called the Philosopher's Stone. He created something from nothing.
Invoking the king's old words—"Pyeongan governorship is another court"—he hinted at royal suspicion.
Hong Sanghan fell into Park Mun-su's web.
A tear-jerking struggle, from Park Mun-su's view.
Thanks to that, Kim Unhaeng's ventures rolled sustainably.
There are many literary exam tracks.
Among them, I'm from the humanities line, unanimously guilty of an original sin called "sorry for being liberal arts."
Meaning, even among literary exams, it's different from policy tracks.
So I muttered uncertainly.
"Is this... double-entry bookkeeping?"
Se-hwa, showing me the ledger she'd made for Samhwadang, tilted her head.
"What's that?"
"No, never mind. What's this method dividing into four categories?"
"Oh, you don't know. Makes sense. It's called Sagae Chi-bu, used by Kaesong merchants. Teacher Sikni-dang taught me; it's convenient, so I use it too."
Somehow, modern man and Joseon wife had swapped roles.
I pondered yelling "This otherworld rocks!" but dropped it.
The point wasn't the ledger itself.
It was Se-hwa's managerial skill: unifying my affiliates—Dog-Beating Stick faction, Samhwadang, Chun-sik Ranch, Gangnam Daeseong, Boryeong Farm—under one consistent, swift format.
So, praising my capable wife over this Neo-Confucian scholar bad at business.
"Because of you, I can focus entirely on outside matters."
Alone together, Se-hwa skipped formal humility, smiling as she cupped my face.
"I told you. I'll achieve glory with you—and be indispensable."
Her finger pressed my lips. Like at the ranch before; she likes this.
"Wealth aids fame, but don't get lost in words and neglect the main script. Leave Samhwadang and farms to me."
Calm fulfillment, not urgent passion; lips brushed and parted.
Se-hwa swept back my hair lightly.
"Speaking of Boryeong land—tobacco lags since soil differs from Pyeongan's famed third-crop variety, but fast growers like peppers and leeks are harvestable. Shall I have them sent up?"
I thought, then shook my head.
"Afraid they'd spoil en route to Seoul. Could sell dearer here, but with Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan and Balanced Distribution hikes, better give commission to your family and sell in Chungcheong."
Glory-hungry Yeongjo eyed nationwide Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan, but Park Mun-su blocked it.
I agreed. Hanyang's a consumer hub, so merchants endure layered fees; elsewhere, they'd fold and go home.
What gain for me? With scant provincial ties sans in-laws, national markets add little.
Se-hwa concurred.
"I thought the same. Now free markets banned before pop up everywhere in Hoseo. Plenty of buyers."
Reason obvious.
Most provincial troops gone.
Excluding Training Command regulated fairs, local markets were Joseon free trade zones. Joseon folk act fast on profit.
Thus, black markets without Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan win overwhelmingly.
My branded agro-products skip Seoul, sell fee-free. Why aid others (king included)?
"While at it, I'll tell Teacher Sikni-dang to link transport beyond capital to Boryeong, Cheonan later. Heard he networked south cattle brokers and horse traders during that 'lost horse' favor at Sallgot Ranch."
Premature now, but Yeongjo'll expand Pyeongsi someday.
Stamps already poised.
He knew post stations failed, yet pushed stamps-only, ignoring private letters.
So prepping delivery alignment isn't bad.
I nodded.
"Yes, workers familiarizing routes helps. Plus, no post station access, so prep payments at big inns for cheap worker stays."
"I overlooked that, stuck home. I'll follow your lead."
But network growth needs cash... I lack ready money, too many expenses from propriety.
I pondered, then hit gold.
"Lately fish, meat, cloth soared, but rice and salt held. Effectively cheaper—hoard some."
"Got it."
Possible thanks to Park Mun-su's superhuman prevention of Hanyang essentials collapse.
Normally impossible. Rice prices set by Gyeonggang merchants, not Pyeongsi or magistrate—even king powerless.
But now Gyeonggang scattered.
King's money-mad resolve plus Jangyongyoung raid—no time for rapport.
Without their org, Park Mun-su succeeds via rice inflows.
If calculated, history's verdict fits this titan.
Last year? Gyeonggang would've cornered rice, thwarting him.
Sure, arrests and beatings—maybe deaths—but fear that, no trade in Joseon.
Me? Yeah, play their scale, I'd get thrashed.
I'm verbose, but Park Mun-su more so, far higher.
So minor scalps to pad costs.
This much is fine.
Just me.
Monitoring Seoul rice flows, Park Mun-su couldn't relax amid others' colorful Chuseok outings.
No festive mood; face like deepest mourning.
"Kim Unhaeng."
He'd heard the youth petitioned policy advice.
But rationally, Park Mun-su figured the king used this Noron upstart for his money schemes.
Most "by royal command" Joseon policies hid such dynamics. No misjudgment.
Yet handling Balanced Distribution intel as one of its Four Heavenly Kings revealed truth.
Pulling threads on Pyeongsi Seondeokgwan or stamps? Kim Unhaeng lurked at end, middle, or start.
Park Mun-su knew no Western lore, but by "cui bono," Kim Unhaeng screamed suspect.
Thus spotting "Jangdong Kim clan" rice buys.
Not market-crashing, but irksome.
And like modern Korea, perceived slights outweighed real damage in Joseon—especially for lofty Park Mun-su.
Office, status, royal favor: he could flick Kim Unhaeng away.
But two hesitations.
One: king'd rage "faction fight again?" Kim was Noron.
If just him punished, fine—but "faction cabal" cries, strikes, abdication threats? Court razed. Noron counterattack likely.
Two: Kim seemed fellow Tangpyeong like him.
Tracing ties: not clan-bound Noron. Bad with Little Noron Jo Jae-ho, yet spanned Southerners, Noron factions. Common? Mostly young like him.
But king's ire, Kim's leanings mere guesses.
Joseon's ultimate administrator hated ambiguity.
He stood.
No secret royal inspector, but he'd inspected provinces, terrorizing magistrates.
Park Mun-su glanced out.
War Ministry empty; curfew near.
But night curfew ruled Hanyang walls; as Hanseong Magistrate, exempt.
Without pause, he strode out, ordering aides.
"To Jangdong. Prepare the carriage."
"Yes, my lord."
Author's Note
1. Park Chisun's tale is true. Side note: Annals say "ejected (driven out)," while Office of Royal Decrees Diary says "departed briskly." "Nabal Dung Hole" lingers slightly among elderly Seoul/Gyeonggi dialect speakers... It nails that vibe.
2. Hong Sanghan: maternal uncle from crown prince treatment arc, Hong Bonghan's brother. Indeed Pyeongan Inspector fall Yeongjo 28.
3. Sagae Chi-bu: double-entry with assets, liabilities, income, expenses. Said 200 years ahead of Europe. But secret to Kaesong merchants till Joseon end, not widespread.
4. Contemporary letters show: no postmen, so noble houses without slaves loitered near offices, snagging dimwitted ones, scaring them into delivery.