Those Who Meet Must Part
When people forge bonds with one another, not every conversation between them can be grave and weighty. Part of the reason Mugeuk Jinin and I could speak so freely was that we had already laid our thoughts and hearts bare to each other — that alone was enough. And so our talk drifting into idle matters of daily life was simply the natural order of things.
"And yet — why did you take part in that affair? From what I have seen of your temperament, you hardly seem the sort to enjoy preening before a crowd."
That affair most likely referred to the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe. To speak honestly, it was not an event I had the standing to attend in the first place.
"Well, you see..."
We traded trifles like that, too.
"And this Yakseon Heart Decision — what manner of discipline is it?"
"Its nature is rather different from Wudang's martial arts."
"You rascal — 'all streams return to the sea,' is it not? Did you take me for a man who could not follow?"
"The Yakseon Heart Decision is—"
"Ho — so Yakseon truly was a grandmaster who lacked nothing beside Sambong himself."
He probed deep into my martial arts as well.
"And the Hyeoncheon Jingyeol? What is it like?"
"I have committed it to memory, but truthfully, I do not yet understand it well."
"Perhaps what you need is simply time."
"Perhaps so."
"The Hyeoncheon Jingyeol is..."
Staying on at the Sword Emperor's hermitage, I shared truly countless conversations with Mugeuk Jinin. Setting aside the difference in our years, Mugeuk and Mubong had become friends. And the most wondrous part of it was this: though Mugeuk Jinin never once handed me a definitive answer, that time became one in which I came to understand a great deal.
Time slipped swiftly by, and nearly half a month had passed since the theft of the Taecheong-dan.
—Kweet!
Perhaps because we had grown used to one another, that rascal Sinseonhon had taken to dropping by Mugeuk Jinin's hermitage on the outskirts of Nogun-dang from time to time. Whether it was gladness at finding a being who could truly catch him, or some beloved old scent he sensed about the Sword Emperor, I could not say — but either way, it was a good thing. For Sinseonhon would keep company with Mugeuk Jinin, who had been passing lonely days in a seclusion beyond seclusion.
"Have you finished your packing?"
"There was little enough to call luggage, so my preparations were finished long ago."
A habit ingrained in me since my days as a beggar. My hands had always been light whenever I set out on a journey. In any case, our stay at Wudang had stretched to a full month, so I, Dancheon Hak, and Chunbaek had completed our preparations to depart. It was something like an unwritten law of the Jianghu: to lodge more than a month at a sect that had opened its gates came close to a breach of etiquette.
In the culture of the Jianghu, a guest who stayed at a sect or a Great Clan for longer than a month became, by implication, a retainer. And since retainers carried such weight in that world, one had to be careful never to become an implicit retainer without any clear declaration of intent. But it would be equally awkward for a warrior of a Great Clan to become an outright retainer of one of the Nine Great Sects — hence our preparations to leave.
"We need only pay our respects and be on our way."
"That will do."
"So we're going home..."
Chunbaek and I were both old hands at life away from home, but for Dancheon Hak — the treasured jewel of the Dancheon Clan — it may well have been a trying stretch of days.
"Couldn't you have stayed on at Wudang a while longer?"
My brother Dancheon Hak asked, his voice studiedly casual. I was no longer a guest of Wudang, so staying on would have posed no problem. But reading the undercurrent in his words, what he meant was closer to: why not simply make a place for yourself at Wudang while you're at it?
Under our old relationship I might have misread it, but I knew the man Dancheon Hak well now, and I could tell that what he had offered was a particularly clumsy brand of joke.
"I like home better myself."
My home, naturally, was the Dancheon Clan.
"Hmph."
He snorted as was his habit, yet the corner of his mouth lifted all the same — and from that I could tell my answer had pleased him too.
"Let's be off."
"Right."
We set our feet moving to take our leave of Wudang.
Those who meet must part, and those who part shall meet again — so the saying goes. I know it as a teaching of the Buddha, but in truth it ought to be read as a teaching about all of our lives. Every meeting ends in parting, and yet we are bound to meet again — that is why.
If anyone deserved the title of expert at partings, it was the Beggars' Sect. Chasing information meant constantly crossing provincial borders, and such a life saw one's branch or hall reassigned so often that goodbyes became routine. Having lived the life of a beggar, it was only natural that I, too, faced partings with an even heart. Of course, I knew full well that not everyone could be so.
"I never gave you leave to descend the mountain."
Mugeuk Jinin said this wearing a sullen face, but I knew the words held no real weight. How could I fail to see it for what it was — the petulant grumbling of a man loath to part from one he had grown fond of?
"I'll come visit now and then."
"Now and then?"
"Yes."
"Not even often?"
"That's right."
"You wretched fellow."
"Haha. My apologies."
"Enough. Just don't go and die somewhere out there."
"That I shan't."
For a warrior of the Ascension Realm, crossing provinces was hardly a burden — but one ought not make promises one could not keep. If I could not even visit Pahwang whenever I pleased, how often could I possibly come to Wudang?
"Senior Brother, next time I will be sure to pay you a visit."
"Senior Brother, I shall come see you as well."
"Yes. Let us be sure to meet again."
At some point, Musang Jinin and Mudam Jinin had taken to calling me Senior Brother. I had become an honorary disciple of the Mu generation, so it was not entirely wrong.
"By rights, I entered the sect later — so should I not be the junior?"
"By years or by attainment alike, Mubong Jinin is the Senior Brother. Isn't that right, Musang?"
"I agree with Mudam as well."
And just like that, it was settled. By rights, the hierarchy of a sect is a solemn matter that cannot be decided by agreement between the parties alone — but not a single senior figure of Wudang moved to stop them, and that too must be counted as tacit approval.
Naturally, they were not the whole of it.
"Come back whenever you wish, Mubong. Wudang shall ever be as your home."
"Yes."
Sect Leader Taecheong Jinin, the elders of the Hyeon generation, and the Wudang Daoists of the Cheon, Jin, and Mu generations all came out to see us off. Perhaps because the venerable Mugeuk Jinin had come out himself, or perhaps because I was Wudang's honorary disciple — either way, it was a farewell that, for the first time in a long while, made my chest tighten.
"Thanks to you, I've had myself quite the rare spectacle."
Paeng Jin-hu of the Paeng family laughed heartily and threw a companionable arm around my shoulder. He, too, was a warrior who took pride in his identity as a man of a Great Clan, so it plainly pleased him to see someone of Clan stock — myself — earning the respect of the sects' warriors.
"You were here all this time?"
"With my martial arts' weaknesses laid bare before my eyes, could I afford to let the time go to waste?"
"Well said."
It seemed he, too, had remained at Wudang to broaden his knowledge. We had entered the mountain together, and so we would descend it together.
"...Congratulations. I heard the news."
Namgung Tan approached me, shuffling his feet, looking somewhat deflated. For a man always so arrogant and self-assured to wear such a face was strange in its own way.
"Thank you."
Such is the way of favors and grudges: malice answered with malice, goodwill answered with goodwill. I was no callow rising star fresh past his twentieth year; there was no reason to spurn the courage it had taken Namgung Tan to speak to me at all.
"We'll see each other again, won't we?"
Paeng Jin-hu asked, sounding reluctant to let us go.
"I expect we will."
These were no empty words. This had nothing to do with the natural order of meeting and parting. Most likely, they and I were fated to meet again next year — a fact I could surmise only because I had regressed, and so there was no doubt in it.
Come to think of it — the Namgung...
Namgung Tan's conduct, living as though he had stopped his ears to the whole world and knew nothing, had been strange. But it was best to let it pass for now. He would learn the truth in due time regardless.
"Let's go."
With every farewell concluded, I said it to Dancheon Hak and Chunbaek. It was time to return home.
The new custom born in the Dancheon Clan seemed to be taking root splendidly — the table where the family gathered to share a meal once every month. With the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe and all, our stay at Wudang had grown long, and the moment my brother Dancheon Hak and I returned to the clan, a meal was laid on. The sight of the rule being followed exactly as first set down, without an ounce of flexibility, somehow put me in mind of my father Dancheon Gang's temperament.
"You've worked hard."
My father Dancheon Gang, already apprised of every circumstance through the clan's lines of communication, let that single phrase stand in for everything else.
"Patriarch, is that truly your answer?"
In truth, Uncle Yeo-baek had a point. Placing Wudang — the venerated seat of the south among the Nine Great Sects — in our debt and returning with their unreserved goodwill was, indeed, a towering achievement.
"Hm..."
My father Dancheon Gang, pondering Uncle Yeo-baek's words for a moment, then spoke.
"I say, Yeo-baek."
"Yes."
"If I set about enumerating every achievement that boy brings home each time he walks out that gate, we should have no time left to swallow so much as a spoonful of rice at this table — would we?"
"...What?"
My father's logic being, in fact, airtight, Uncle Yeo-baek seemed unable to muster a rebuttal. Our uncle, forever needling the Patriarch of late, had just been floored by a single blow for the first time in an age.
"All the same, don't let it end at 'you've worked hard' — give each of them a word of praise too."
My mother Baek Yeo-hae chimed in, sliding a dish toward Dancheon Hak and me.
"Hm."
Judging the mistress of the house to be in the right, the Patriarch gave a nod. My father Dancheon Gang's gaze came to me.
"Well done."
Then his eyes passed to my brother Dancheon Hak.
"You did well too."
With that, he turned his attention back to the food. The phrasing was spare to the point of plainness, but I knew my father's heart was in earnest.
The warm, convivial meal drew to a close.
"Thank you for the meal."
As I offered the parting greeting and straightened from my bow, my mother Baek Yeo-hae stole quietly toward me. A man who called himself a warrior of the Ascension Realm could hardly fail to notice his own mother — a woman who had never trained in the martial arts — closing the distance. I turned my head, and there, on the face of my mother Baek Yeo-hae, ever that same cold countenance, hesitation had gathered.
"Mother, is there something you would say to me?"
I might never manage to be a doting son, but to turn away from a hesitation so plainly displayed would be unworthy of the name. Perhaps it was one of the benefits of meeting Mugeuk Jinin — not that attaining the Dao had mellowed me, but that polite speech now spilled out of me with unseemly ease.
As though she had at last resolved herself, my mother Baek Yeo-hae opened her mouth.
"Tomorrow morning — could you come to my quarters?"
"Yes. I shall."
I could not fathom her reason, but for now, giving my answer was the proper course.
The next day, I sought out my mother Baek Yeo-hae's quarters.
"...So this is it?"
Thinking on it now, I truly must be a sorry excuse for a man. For I realized that though nearly three years had passed since I acknowledged the woman Baek Yeo-hae as my mother, this was the first time I had ever set foot in her quarters.
I knew that whenever my own quarters stood empty, it was my mother Baek Yeo-hae who had them cared for. No doubt she left the actual cleaning to the servants, but that she herself took pains and oversaw their keeping was a truth beyond denial. Yet I, the son in question, had only now come to my mother's dwelling for the very first time — did that not stand as proof of how thoughtless a son I had been all this while?
"I will show you in."
One of the clan's stewards, long familiar to me now, approached.
"I leave it to you."
A brief walk in his wake —
"You came."
There sat my mother Baek Yeo-hae, dressed with quiet elegance.
"I trust you passed a peaceful night."
Curious as I was about why she had summoned me, duty and decorum had their order, and the morning greeting came first.
"Yes."
By now, my mother Baek Yeo-hae received my greetings as though they were the most natural thing in the world. And unbidden, I found myself remembering how I had offered her that same greeting on the first day after my regression.
"Mother, did you sleep peacefully last night?"
"Y-yes, I did."
Her stammering aside, the gulf between the face she made then and the face she wears now left me feeling that a whole age had turned between them. I — no, we — had changed a great deal.
"May I ask the purpose of your summons?"
The courtesies observed, it was now proper to ask. The look that settled over my mother Baek Yeo-hae's face at my question could best be summed up as sheepishness.
"Hear me out — and don't misunderstand."
"Yes."
Steadying her breath as though she were rather on edge, she spoke.
"What are your thoughts on the Young Mistress of the Yang Family Hall?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Yang Su-rin."
"Hm."
For the first time in a long while, I was caught a little off guard — because a name even I had never seen coming had just walked into the room.