That Man and That Woman's Circumstances (3)
Moyong Man was seeing off the Moyong Clan's party. Wanting one last look at his niece's face before she returned to Liaoning Province, he had come out to the gates of Chang'an even though he was still on duty.
Moyong Ran dismounted and offered her uncle a formal bow.
"Young Family Head, take care on the journey home."
"And you take care not to catch a cold in this foreign place, Uncle."
It was the same farewell his beloved niece had given him the day he left the clan. When he had told her he was only going on a short trip, the little girl — already burning with fever herself — had solemnly told him to watch out for colds.
Now that same niece was Young Family Head, riding back toward a homeland he himself could no longer return to. Moyong Man clasped his hands and bowed; Moyong Ran returned the courtesy, then swung back into the saddle.
"Send word by carrier pigeon that Geom Cheonryong wants to wield that sword for the Namgung Clan. In my judgment, he looks far more useful meeting a man over weapons than over a pillow."
With that, Moyong Ran rode out through the gates with her retinue. Moyong Man turned back toward the Murim Alliance, already deciding he would have to record the results of the confrontation in the letter he sent home to the clan.
"Wandering the marketplace during duty hours? Do you mean to flout the strict regulations of service?"
Zhuge Yu ambled into Moyong Man's path, voice light and mocking. Moyong Man was certain the man had guessed his errand and followed him with his presence completely suppressed.
"I'll make it up with overtime. And what brings the Chief Strategist out here?"
"Field work, to tighten discipline in the Military Affairs Bureau. Help me, and I'll count this as official business for both of us."
Zhuge Yu handed Moyong Man a letter and strode ahead toward the Alliance. Moyong Man fell in behind him, reading as he walked.
"Young Master Go's reply? That was quick."
"Indeed. He already knew exactly how we would respond. Then again, the young master spent ten years inside the Alliance himself…"
"He conceded on the profit split. So what's the problem?"
Zhuge Yu gave no answer and simply kept walking. When he turned into an inn, Moyong Man followed with a faintly dubious look.
Zhuge Yu was shown to a reserved room. The moment he sat, he ordered several dishes and tea.
"You said this was field work."
"It is field work. Lunch hour is nearly upon us — a man can eat and work at the same time."
Zhuge Yu drew another letter from his sleeve and passed it over. Moyong Man took it as a matter of course, read it through, and stroked his beard.
"Young Master Go's anti-competition measure. Plausible enough. However…"
To prevent rivals from springing up, Jinmyung had instructed them to post a public ranking of the eight participants of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering — complete with order and epithets. And to establish that ranking, he had proposed additional matches even among the losers.
Only the Murim Alliance, as the body overseeing the Mt. Hua Sword Debate, had the authority to change the tournament format. That was what made the scheme possible. By ranking the fighters under the Alliance's own prestige, publishing the list, and simultaneously spreading word of the matches themselves, they would control the entire conversation.
What drew people to the storytellers was not merely the dazzling exchange of techniques — it was the hunger to know who was stronger. And the question Who's tougher? was the one question that could gather every martial artist in the land under a single roof.
"A ranking… rather bold. But the public is already quite used to such things, aren't they?"
"You mean the Three Emperors, Four Kings, Five Venerables?"
"And the Ten Stars as well."
After the founding of the new dynasty, the Emperor had weighed the merits of the martial world's figures and treated them as equals to his own meritorious retainers. The ranking that ordered the martial artists the same way the retainers were ordered was precisely that hierarchy: Three Emperors, Four Kings, Five Venerables, Ten Stars.
"That was a wartime merit ranking, was it not? Even the Donghwa Sangwang, Clan Head Go Danjun himself, is an ordinary man who knows nothing of martial arts."
"He holds the seat by honor alone… but it is still a ranking the Emperor himself set. And the mere fact that a ranking can be set means—"
"—that it will raise the Murim Alliance's authority. Is that what you're saying?"
Zhuge Yu lifted his teacup, feeling its warmth as he considered. In the interval, a waiter brought the food.
Through the dishes settling on the table, Moyong Man caught a glimpse of Zhuge Yu's expression. The cup half-hid his face, but he was smiling.
Only then did something feel off. Surely not…
"You like this plan, don't you? Then why are you asking me?"
Zhuge Yu set the cup down and let his expression show. Just as Moyong Man had guessed, he was smiling.
"Because it's entertaining, isn't it? When other people do something foolish, you have to laugh at them — only then do they feel the shame and correct their ways."
"Is that what they teach at Longzhong?"
"Haha. In any case… what do you think?"
"About what?"
"That the fish the Moyong Clan let slip… looks about ready to swim up the waterfall and become a dragon."
"You're talking nonsense. The food is getting cold. Let's eat."
Zhuge Yu picked up his chopsticks and began. Moyong Man joined him.
The two of them would return to headquarters and dispatch a carrier pigeon to seal the contract. The Mt. Hua Talent Discourse — which would one day become one of the Murim Alliance's great sources of funding — began in just this way.
The Mt. Hua Talent Discourse became the starting point from which the Mt. Hua Sword Debate, long passed down only by word of mouth, was finally set down in writing. The first of those records, the Hwa-ryong Bang — the Dragon Ranking of Mt. Hua — was carried by Alliance messenger pigeons to every corner of the nation the moment the debate ended.
The Hwa-ryong Bang listed the eight of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering and their ranks, driving every sect to redouble its training. But that is a story for another day.
"Isn't your backside getting a little too heavy?"
"We have to finish the contract before we leave, don't we? Are the business overview documents and the materials for the storytellers all ready?"
As their stay at Shaolin dragged on, Ak Jun needled Jinmyung about it nearly every day.
"They've been ready for ages. I even made a generous donation to Shaolin in place of using their carrier pigeons."
"Then how come a guy like you still doesn't know when the pigeon will get here?"
"I can calculate how many days the round trip takes. Whether they'll actually sign the contract is another matter entirely."
Ak Jun and Jinmyung were bickering in front of the Geumjatap. The conversation inside Chungmugak had grown steadily louder, and they had stepped outside so as not to disturb the others in the hall.
Jinmyung had been wandering the grounds to escape Ak Jun's grumbling when he found himself reluctant to hold such a conversation at a place dedicated to the Songshan lineage, and so he had turned aside. Searching for a suitable spot, he had finally ended up here, before the Golden Pagoda.
"Still against leaving the profit split as is? That's what this is really about, isn't it?"
"We should be taking at least fifteen percent — no, eighteen. It's revenue we won't see for five years, so we need to squeeze every last drop up front."
"Revenue we'll still be collecting five years from now, ten years from now, fifteen years from now. Think long-term. Ah — did you write in the advisory period?"
"I did. But I doubt they'll care much. The part about advisory services being available only during the master's lifetime is obvious, isn't it?"
Jinmyung turned with a smile and looked back at Ak Jun.
"Obvious, yes. But even if I die, as long as the Murim exists, the Mt. Hua Sword Debate will keep going, won't it?"
"Unless there's a war… probably?"
"Then the revenue keeps accumulating. Like drawing a pension."
When Jinmyung had proposed transferring the business, he had deliberately left no fixed term. The only thing with a clear duration was the advisory period itself.
"If the contract is signed, that is. You said the people in the Military Affairs Bureau aren't pushovers."
"True. But in the end they'll have no choice but to accept. Everyone already knows the Mt. Hua Sword Debate is a money pit."
"Then… don't tell me you planned to ask for ten percent from the start?"
The left corner of Jinmyung's mouth twitched.
"That's right. When you jab someone in a sore spot, the first thing they do is rub where it hurts."
Jinmyung had deliberately inflated the profit demand. He wanted the Murim Alliance's eyes fixed on the revenue.
Even when Jinmyung first brought the storytellers into play, Ak Jun had grumbled that it was unnecessary work. Once the money started coming in, the grumbling had turned to praise.
But buried in Ak Jun's complaints, Jinmyung had realized the enterprise was beyond what the personnel stationed in Chang'an could handle. So he had begun considering which organizations might take it over.
And the most suitable organization was the Murim Alliance. Once he decided to return home, he understood that the transfer would have to come sooner rather than later.
Yet with the hasty departure from Mt. Hua, there had been no chance to stop in Chang'an, and so the contract had to be negotiated through Shaolin's carrier pigeons.
"If we'd negotiated face-to-face in Chang'an, it would have been dangerous. A man who's only ever read books in a library against Strategist Zhuge, who interviews countless people every day — I wouldn't have stood a chance."
"Hasn't the Chief Strategist never once done business with His Majesty?"
Ak Jun said it as if to ask what a mere Alliance strategist amounted to next to a man who had closed deals with the Emperor himself. Jinmyung gave a bitter little smile.
"Fair enough. Anyway, get ready to leave the moment the pigeon arrives. They'll definitely sign, so the second you hear it's here, grab the papers and bring them."
"Understood… Ah, come to think of it — how much are you giving me?"
"For what?"
"You came up with the deal, Master, but I'm the one who made it happen. No bonus?"
"Hey, you already draw a salary."
"……"
"Ugh… as if I wouldn't take care of you properly."
When Ak Jun shot him a look that said he was being cheap, Jinmyung added the last line. Only then did Ak Jun grin and head back to the lodgings.
Once Ak Jun had withdrawn, Jinmyung gazed into the Geumjatap and sank into thought. Or rather, he enjoyed a quiet moment of idleness while hoping the people around him would think that was what he was doing.
The Golden Pagoda was shaped like ingots of gold stacked one atop another. Wasn't that a little too worldly a form to stand inside a temple like Shaolin…?
On the lowest ingot, a single character was carved into each face. Together they spelled the name of the Donghwa Merchant Group.
The second-tier ingot bore three characters. With each level the tower rose, one character fewer.
Looking at it, Jinmyung thought of his grandfather — waiting for the day they would meet again.