After the Play Ends (3)
The Profound Meaning. Unpacked, the term spoke of deep significance—the ultimate essence of a martial art. To have grasped the Profound Meaning of a technique meant one could execute its final, culminating form.
Thus Shintu’s words amounted to a promise to pass on Master Hwan’s art of disguise. While preparing for the performance, Jinmyung had come to understand just how far his own face-changing fell short of Shintu’s.
Jinmyung’s face-changing was little more than a cheap parlor trick that only succeeded if it first seized the audience’s attention. But the face-changing Master Hwan had left to Shintu was the very essence of the disguise arts.
When the human-skin masks Shintu crafted with deliberate care were joined to the mastery of rapid mask-switching known as Face-Change, one might not become an entirely different person within ten paces—yet one could certainly wear a different face.
“What do you mean by that…?”
“You seem a little excited. We’ll settle the accounts later.”
Jinmyung cut off Soran’s startled words and handed the pouch to Shintu. Shintu took it and continued.
“Excited is right. This foolish disciple is finally about to inherit his master’s will.”
Shintu held the pouch as he spoke.
“But even if I teach you the Profound Meaning of face-changing, you won’t be able to use it as well as I can. The same goes for this pouch.”
Shintu passed the pouch to Soran. She flinched yet carefully untied it.
“This is what Master entrusted to me before he set out on the road to death. If anything… I should be grateful to the Tang Clan for keeping it so well.”
“These are… silkworms?”
Inside the pouch, silkworm larvae wriggled and squirmed. Soran edged back a little at the sight of the writhing creatures.
“More precisely, wild silkworm moths. Troublesome little things. They don’t even eat mulberry leaves. They chew on oak leaves instead.”
“Aren’t oak leaves and mulberry leaves pretty much the same?”
Ak Jun could not hold back his curiosity. Jinmyung looked at him with open pity.
“Still the same useless head—good for nothing but quick calculations.”
“You already know the rest.”
Hearing their exchange, Shintu looked at Jinmyung. Since Soran was watching him as well, Jinmyung cleared his throat and began to explain.
“First… let’s assume everyone but one person knows that silk is made from silkworm cocoons. The thread spun by wild silkworm moths is Heavenly Silkworm Thread.”
Shintu nodded. The Heavenly Silkworm Thread Master Hwan had left him was scarce—barely enough to stretch the few steps from the entrance of Hwan-sa Hall to the altar.
If these wild silkworm moths could be made to spin Heavenly Silkworm Thread, they would be able to employ it in all the varied ways Master Hwan had once demonstrated.
“However… the reason Heavenly Silkworm Thread is so rare is that it’s difficult to get these creatures to spin. For one thing, they aren’t the sort you can raise like ordinary silkworms… and I’ve heard that wild ones cannot produce large quantities of thread.”
“You really do know a great deal.”
“I’ve read a lot of books.”
When Shintu expressed admiration, Jinmyung turned to Ak Jun with a distinctly smug look. Ak Jun could only snicker in helpless surrender.
Watching him, Soran felt her interest deepen. The first time she had seen him she had taken him for nothing more than a wanderer. At their second meeting he had spoken of his plan for the trial with eyes that sparkled, like a child who had just discovered a delightful new game. From the Hao Sect’s standpoint—with so much riding on the examination—that manner had been mildly irritating, yet his confident words had reassured her. With Shintu’s consent she had agreed to follow his plan.
While preparing the stage at the inn, Jinmyung had thrown himself into the work with such fervor that one might have mistaken him for a traveling troupe actor. And when the performance ended successfully, he had turned a bright smile on everyone who had helped. Many of the Hao Sect members who had worked alongside him had been won over by that smile. Soran, however, had never fully lowered her guard.
Then, after the Tang Clan’s stage had concluded and they had passed the trial, Jinmyung had given her a small shrug from behind the curtain—an “I told you so” gesture that had drawn a quiet laugh from her. She was the courtesan who managed Qingxiang Pavilion; men who preened and boasted before her were common enough. Only then had she decided that Jinmyung, too, was nothing more than an ordinary man. But now… now she found herself wondering once again who he truly was.
Who is that man… really…?
“From here on it’s only my guess… but is the Sichuan Alliance perhaps an association that supplies silkworms and mulberry leaves?”
“How… did you…?”
“I’ve heard that the Sichuan Tang Clan, as head of the Sichuan Alliance, distributes Sichuan’s profits among the various sects under the pretext of alms. But handing a sect’s profits over to other sects as alms… that could easily become a source of internal strife.”
A generation that had lived through war could share even a single bean in the name of comradeship. But the war was over, and comrades grew old and were forgotten.
“In that case one would have to go into business together—just as we have. And Sichuan is a famous silk-producing region. Sharing profits with partners is, in a sense, only natural….”
Jinmyung glanced around; all three were fixed on him. He continued.
“The wild silkworm moths given by the Dark Cloud Poison Sovereign, and the claim that the Hao Sect would not be able to hold its place in the Sichuan Alliance… Mount Emei and Mount Qingcheng are thick with mulberry trees. So the Tang Clan must have silkworm farms of its own.”
“The talk that the Hao Sect could not keep its seat in the Sichuan Alliance… meant there would be no place for us to insert ourselves between the silkworms and the mulberry leaves.”
Soran grasped the meaning of Tang Wu’s words and lowered her head. The wild silkworm moths in the pouch wriggled. When she flinched and looked up, Jinmyung was watching her.
“A woman bold enough to bathe in front of a man is frightened of a few larvae?”
“Be quiet….”
Soran flushed at the tease, yet still looked at him. Might this man know a way to produce Heavenly Silkworm Thread?
“Unfortunately I don’t know how to make them spin Heavenly Silkworm Thread either. And this would have been the perfect moment to charge the highest price for that knowledge.”
Only then did Soran realize she had been expecting something of him. She turned to Shintu with a carefully indifferent air.
“Regrettably I don’t know the exact method either… I’ll simply have to recall Master’s journals and old memories.”
“They’ll probably be waiting at the Tang Clan. It’s a household that deals with insects, after all. But….”
“The Hao Sect’s seat in the Sichuan Alliance could end up existing in name only. Outside, the Hao Sect; inside, the Tang Clan….”
Jinmyung and Soran both fell silent. Their thoughts had clearly aligned. Researching the wild silkworm moths would require money—money that must not come from the Tang Clan’s hands….
“More importantly… ahem….”
Ak Jun drew the group’s attention. Once he was sure every eye was on him, he went on.
“Can we get the bugs off the table now and eat something? That performance was harder than it looked.”
Everyone laughed and agreed. Soran clapped twice, and a feast was carried in from outside. Shintu tucked the pouch away.
An unfamiliar ceiling. Jinmyung woke groggily and sat up. The bed was so soft he wondered if he had simply been drunk on sleep; he looked around.
A soft splash… somewhere water lapped. He turned his head and saw Soran beside the bed. Jinmyung immediately looked away and checked his own clothing. His upper garments had been removed.
“Do you make a habit of bathing in front of men?”
“Hmph. Consider it an honor. There are men who’d pay a thousand gold just to wake up in my bed.”
Jinmyung pulled on the white robe hanging beside the bed. Soran watched him as she spoke.
“Your friend insisted he absolutely had to go home and left. Collapsing after only a few cups—how amusing.”
“That one was already sipping wine before he even came of age….”
Jinmyung finished dressing and gathered his belongings. He glanced sidelong at Soran.
“It had been a long time. It felt good—especially… not having to keep my wits about me.”
He remembered Danjun’s seventieth-birthday banquet. His father and grandfather had insisted that drinking was something one learned from one’s elders and had pressed cups on him. That first taste of wine had naturally drawn him together with his cousins. And the wine last night… had let him forget even them, abandon his mind entirely, and simply collapse.
Jinmyung turned to Soran and offered a formal salute.
“Thank you for the meal.”
“My, the accounts aren’t settled yet.”
“I was under the impression that passing the trial meant the wine was on you….”
“And after drinking fine wine you threw up all over the best courtesan’s clothes in Qingxiang Pavilion… so you at least owe me laundry fees.”
“Hn… put it on my tab.”
Learning why he had woken in Soran’s room left Jinmyung feeling apologetic. She read his expression and asked,
“I’ve prepared the stage equipment and the wagon to carry it. Do you plan to tour Sichuan performing plays?”
“Thanks to you we’re ready for business… so I thought I might go to Mount Emei and offer a prayer for prosperity.”
“Hmm… then why not perform for the Emei Sect as well?”
“You need something to divert the Emei Sect’s eyes?”
Jinmyung lowered the hands he had raised in salute and turned away from her. The conversation looked ready to grow long.
“There will be a gathering of the Sichuan Alliance. We’ll have to introduce the Hao Sect, after all. And nothing would demonstrate that we are Master Hwan’s true successors better than face-changing.”
“Then it would be better for Shintu to perform than for us.”
“Yes. Think of it as our first client. The Hao Sect is simply commissioning the troupe.”
“We built the stage equipment together, so if Shintu sets his mind to it he could put on the exact same play.”
“The Hao Sect of Sichuan isn’t a band of ruffians. We keep ledgers and trade favors like anyone else.”
Soran rose from the tub with a splash. Jinmyung did not look back, but he could guess from the sound. Listening to the rustle of her dressing, he answered.
“Since it’s a joint performance with Shintu… calling you a client feels too formal. Let’s just say we’re continuing our partnership a little longer.”
“Very well, then. I’ve prepared something for the hangover, so go out and have a bite before you leave.”
“I won’t refuse.”
Jinmyung left Soran’s room. Her gaze followed his retreating back the entire way.