The Soul Wedding
“W-what in the world…?”
“Sect Leader!”
Yeong-hwa and Hagun stared wide-eyed at Hyeonsong standing beside Paeng Un-ro.
The scar that had once marked Hyeonsong’s cheek was gone without a trace. The wrinkles and white hair had vanished as well.
At their reactions, the man who now looked barely twenty laughed heartily, the Songmun Ancient Sword hanging at his side.
Paeng Un-ro spoke to Yeong-hwa and Hagun.
“When one reaches the realm of Hwaring, one experiences Hwangoltaltae.”
A smile touched Paeng Un-ro’s lips as he continued.
“On the road here, Hyeonsong ordered his insights, attained enlightenment, and shattered the wall of the Super Expert realm.”
Paeng Un-ro looked at Hyeonsong with open joy.
“Has the Wudang Sect ever known such good fortune?”
“You flatter me, Senior.”
“Seeing again the face of the bold young man you once were makes me even happier.”
Paeng Un-ro shifted the little novice monk who slept soundly on his back and settled him more securely.
“Come inside. Daoist Yeong-hwa, Daoist Hagun.”
“Yes, Grand Elder.”
“Understood.”
Once they had entered the Grand Elder’s quarters, silence settled over them for a time.
Paeng Un-ro laid the sleeping child carefully upon the bed. He gazed at him for a long while, stroking the boy’s hair with his uninjured left hand.
When the servants brought in a tea tray and set it upon the table, Yeong-hwa turned the cups and poured. Yet no one reached for a cup. The sorrow on Paeng Un-ro’s face as he looked at the child was too deep.
“Ahem.”
At Yeong-hwa’s soft cough, Paeng Un-ro collected himself.
“Forgive me. I was lost in thought for a moment…”
Paeng Un-ro took the seat of honor. The tiger pelt he always wore lay draped across it. With a complicated expression he stroked the fur.
Yeong-hwa took a noisy sip of tea and asked,
“What do you intend to do from now on?”
Paeng Un-ro touched the cup with his left hand and let out a long breath.
“I do not know myself.”
Yeong-hwa snorted.
“You would do well to put any thought of giving up out of your mind.”
With a soft shwaak he snapped open his fan, and the windows of the Grand Elder’s quarters opened of their own accord.
“Do you see?”
Where Yeong-hwa pointed with the fan, the Ancestral Shrine of the Hebei Paeng Clan shone with a strange pure-white radiance.
“The White Tiger God is watching.”
Paeng Un-ro, who had been silent, slowly drank his tea.
“I was a fool. I cannot even begin to grasp what I ought to do.”
At those words Hyeonsong gave a hearty laugh.
“Hagun.”
“Yes, Sect Leader.”
“How does our sect teach its disciples?”
Hagun answered with confidence.
“Of course we teach the fundamentals of martial study, then assign them to the various halls according to their talents.”
“And who makes that choice?”
“The disciples choose for themselves.”
Hyeonsong laid a hand on the shoulder of the bowed Paeng Un-ro.
“Did you hear that?”
“Daoist Hagun is right.”
Paeng Un-ro bit his lip and lifted his head. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
“I must let my grandson live as he wishes.”
Hyeonsong asked,
“And if he says he hates martial study?”
“Then I will let it go.”
“If he says he wishes to become an official in the court and study letters?”
“I will find him a fine teacher.”
“You have changed enough.”
Hyeonsong spoke slowly.
“Simply wait for him, and gently set him right whenever he strays.”
Paeng Un-ro clasped Hyeonsong’s hand with his uninjured left.
“Thank you. Truly, thank you.”
This time he turned his gaze to Yeong-hwa. With difficulty he opened his mouth.
“Daoist Yeong-hwa.”
“You need not say it. I already know.”
Yeong-hwa answered while popping a sweet into his mouth.
“You mean the rites for the departed, do you not?”
“I do.”
Yeong-hwa smiled brightly.
“After all, am I not a mudang by nature?”
Thud—
At those words Hagun rapped him smartly on the head with a knuckle.
“Yeong-hwa! You are a Daoist of Wudang.”
Yeong-hwa clutched his head as though it hurt and continued,
“My main profession is Daoist, and my side profession is mudang, is it not?”
Paeng Un-ro asked with a curious look,
“Mudang?”
Hagun resolved the old man’s puzzlement.
“In Goryeo they call a master of the occult arts a mudang.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Please prepare in abundance the foods the departed once loved.”
“I shall, Daoist Yeong-hwa.”
“Wait!”
Yeong-hwa spoke as though something had just occurred to him.
“I will perform the rites twice.”
He looked out the window toward a quiet mountain.
“You will permit it, will you not?”
“You mean Yu-heon’s wife and her younger sister?”
“Yes, Grand Elder.”
“Daoist Yeong-hwa… is it possible to hold a wedding of souls?”
At Paeng Un-ro’s trembling voice, Yeong-hwa nodded.
“I wish to beg their forgiveness and bury Yu-heon’s wife and her sister in the Paeng ancestral mountain.”
Yeong-hwa smiled.
“You truly have changed.”
His voice was warm as he went on.
“It is no easy thing for a person to change, after all.”
Paeng Un-ro looked abashed.
“I will have mourning clothes prepared.”
He drained the last of the cold tea, rose, and left the Grand Elder’s quarters. In his hand hung the tiger pelt that had been draped over the chair.
One week later, at the Hebei Paeng Clan.
Every member of the clan wore mourning white. With Yeong-hwa’s help, Paeng Un-ro finished the rites for Paeng Il-mok’s soul and made his way to the main gate.
There a vast sacrificial table had been prepared.
The great doors of the Hebei Paeng Clan opened. At the head of the procession appeared Paeng Un-ro, clad in mourning robes and draped in the tiger pelt.
Yeong-hwa spoke to Hagun, who carried a drum at his side.
“Senior Brother, the Sutra for Unbinding the Grievances of Young Lovers.”
“Do not worry, Yeong-hwa.”
Dung— dududung— dung— dududung— dung—
Behind them walked Hyeonsong and Yeong-hwa, with Hagun beating the drum.
Paeng Un-ro carried the enormous sacrificial table with his uninjured hand and the stump of his right wrist.
Yeong-hwa’s mournful chant, clad all in pure white, rang out across the whole of Tianjin County where the Hebei Paeng Clan stood.
With utmost devotion this day we offer the unbinding of grievances
Spirits of the Paeng clan, spirits of this day
How pitiable, how wretched
Clothes never worn, lives never fully lived
Become ghosts bound for the Yellow Springs
Though they never meant to leave
Now that they go, when shall they return
To be reborn and find a fine match once more
To meet again and live as golden threads of harmony
That very longing became their grudge, restless souls
Yeong-hwa’s plaintive yet clear voice filled the air. Even as people came out to watch, Paeng Un-ro never wavered beneath the weight of the sacrificial table.
The procession of the Hebei Paeng Clan wound all the way to the thatched cottage on the back mountain of Tianjin County where Seol Ha-yeon and Seol Lin had once lived.
Nothing remained now but ruins. Before the lonely burial mounds that stood there, Paeng Un-ro halted.
Kuuung—
He slowly set the table down. Yeong-hwa took the memorial tablets from a warrior and placed them before the offerings. He gave the man a glance. The warrior drew out from a wrapping cloth the clan’s finest wine—Ji Kingdom’s Premium Liquor.
Paeng Un-ro knelt before the table. With his left hand he held a cup; with the stump of his right wrist he supported it from beneath.
Jjeureureureuk—
Yeong-hwa slowly poured wine into Paeng Un-ro’s cup. The old man circled the cup twice and scattered the wine upon the graves. Twice he bowed deeply.
“Only now do I look upon Yu-heon’s wife.”
His voice shook as he continued.
“Every wrong was mine alone.”
Yeong-hwa’s white sleeves fluttered as he danced beside Paeng Un-ro. Hagun’s drumbeat quickened, echoing through the mountain.
“Please accept my plea for forgiveness.”
Kung— kung— kung— kung— kung—
As though offering penance, Paeng Un-ro struck his forehead against the earth five times. Blood ran down his brow.
Yeong-hwa cried out as he danced,
“O gods of heaven and earth! The souls of youth who could not unbind their grievances in this world are weeping even now!”
His sorrowful voice coiled about the graves.
“We seek to soothe their spirits and fulfill their wishes—grant us leave!”
At that very moment a wind rose from the west.
“The gods have given their leave. We shall open the graves.”
At those words Paeng Un-ro carefully dug into the earth with his bare hands. After a long time two coffins appeared—one large, one small. He wound ropes around both and slung them across his own shoulders.
When he climbed out of the pit, the Paeng warriors kindled a great fire. Yeong-hwa slowly cast the foods into the flames, offering them to the spirits of the dead.
Hagun’s drum, which had fallen silent, began again.
Dung— dudududung— dung— dududududung—
When every offering had been given, Paeng Un-ro turned slowly about and set his steps once more toward the Hebei Paeng Clan. Yeong-hwa’s chant never ceased until they reached the ancestral mountain of the Paengs.
There the graves of Paeng Il-mok, of Paeng Yu-heon’s mother, and of Paeng Yu-heon himself already waited. Beside Yu-heon’s mound two new grave sites had been dug.
Kuuung— kuuung—
Paeng Un-ro carefully laid the coffins of Seol Ha-yeon and Seol Lin into place. Without a word he covered them with earth and raised the mounds with his own hands. At last the graves were complete.
Hyeonsong gave the warriors a look. At once they set a wedding table before the graves of Paeng Yu-heon and Seol Ha-yeon. Crimson silk adorned it splendidly. A pair of mandarin-duck carvings stood at the center, and before them an incense burner.
Yeong-hwa lit incense and set it in the burner upon the sacrificial table. His chant continued without pause. The hems of his white robes fluttered and danced in the wind that blew from the west.
In the chill wind of dawn frost
That wild goose crying as it flies
Withers my very entrails
Had they died without affection
I would not grieve so deeply
If it were not the season of spring
Would the butterflies come seeking me?
I longed for the waters of the three thousand leagues
Yet on a deep night when the east wind turns cold
If only a dream would bring them before me
At Yeong-hwa’s heart-rending chant the people wiped away tears one by one.
Paeng Un-ro took the tiger pelt from his shoulder into his left hand. Hyeonsong grasped the other side beside him.
Jjiiiiiiiiiiiiik—
The tiger skin tore cleanly in two. Paeng Un-ro laid one half upon Paeng Yu-heon’s grave and spread the other across Seol Ha-yeon’s mound.
Yeong-hwa’s song flowed on and would not stop.
In which world shall one find me
Which parents shall seek me out
And grant this wish of mine?
How pitiable is this fate of mine
O restless souls of youth, man and woman
Receive this day’s sincerity
And be reborn in the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss
Receive this day’s unbinding of grievances
And return, guided, into life once more
Namu Amitabha
Namu Amitabha
Namu Amitabha
At the same moment Yeong-hwa pressed his palms together, the plaintive drumbeat ceased.
“With this I conclude the soul wedding of Young Master Paeng Yu-heon and Lady Seol Ha-yeon.”
As though answering Yeong-hwa’s words, Paeng Un-ro offered a clasped-fist salute before the graves of Paeng Yu-heon and Seol Ha-yeon.
“I receive Seol Ha-yeon, wife of the Young Clan Head of the Hebei Paeng Clan, Paeng Yu-heon, into the ancestral mountain of the Paengs.”
Yeong-hwa held out his hand; a warrior passed him a basket heaped with camellia blossoms. With a warm smile Yeong-hwa scattered the flowers over both graves.
Hyeonsong approached the weeping Paeng Un-ro and spoke.
“Infinite Life Buddha. Senior, do you know the flower language of the camellia?”
Paeng Un-ro wiped his tears on his sleeve.
“I do not…”
“True love. Hagun prepared them specially.”
Paeng Un-ro offered a respectful clasped-fist salute to Hagun, who was putting away the drum.
“I am truly grateful, Daoist Hagun.”
Hagun smiled gently and recited the sacred name.
“Infinite Life Buddha. I pray for the rebirth of your grandson and his wife in the Pure Land.”
Saaaaaaaaaaak—
With the wind that blew from the west, the bare trees swayed. Soon a white sacred radiance shone down upon the two graves.
Yeong-hwa murmured with a smile,
“Has the White Tiger God come as well?”
He drew the fan from his waist.
Shwaak—
Yeong-hwa snapped the fan open. With spirited joy he danced, circling the graves of Paeng Yu-heon and Seol Ha-yeon.
“I entreat the White Tiger God!”
He laughed openly as he continued.
“Bless these two souls, and grant the heartfelt wish of the man and woman who have gone to the afterlife!”
At those very words, one by one, snowflakes began to fall from the clear blue sky.
“It’s snowing…”
“But the sky is clear—there isn’t a single cloud!”
“How strange this is.”
At the people’s reactions Yeong-hwa cried out with delight,
“Lady Seol Ha-yeon! A lovely snowscape that suits your name perfectly!”
From the bright, cloudless heavens great soft flakes fell thickly and piled up, soft and white. People held out their hands in wonder, catching the heavy snowflakes in their palms.
Yeong-hwa danced on, and Paeng Un-ro, still holding his clasped-fist salute, wept without restraint.
Yeong-hwa looked at the gathered crowd and said,
“Please bless the love of Young Master Paeng Yu-heon and Lady Seol Ha-yeon that has only now been fulfilled!”
At his words the people clapped their hands one after another.
Thus the Hebei Paeng Clan sank into the snow and was dyed pure white.