125. Gongsun Clan (1)
Gongsun Clan (1)
125. Gongsun Clan (1)
"Did the Red Flower Pavilion please you?"
With all the hospitality concluded, Lee Yeon, her face once more that of the Pavilion Mistress, asked Master deferentially.
"I was very pleased. The massage at the end especially—it couldn't have been better."
"For me, the food. This Junior Sister's cooking is always excellent, but high cuisine of this level—that was a first."
"I would still say the dance. The experience of dancing the Water Moon Dance will surely benefit my cultivation going forward."
"Pavilion Mistress, thank you for the small bamboo flute. I'll treasure it and use it well."
It was flawless service that satisfied everyone. Even Cho-ryeong, who had never played with so many children her own age, seemed thoroughly content.
"That is a relief. Then, may we now perform the Three-Bow Rite?"
"Let's dispense with that. To be honest, even if you come under Yeongsan's umbrella, I think there's little we could actually do for you. I'd prefer we simply remain on good terms as amiable neighbors."
"We ask for nothing so great. We only wish to be granted the name of Yeongsan Sect. And if Heroine Son would occasionally guide us in the Water Moon Dance, every disciple of Red Flower Pavilion will be moved to tears, and we shall pledge our loyalty to the Sect Leader. The Black Heaven Association and the Gongsun Clan—the very thought of such a perilous balancing act is terrifying. We will look to Yeongsan Sect alone. Seated in the lowliest seat beneath Yeongsan's shadow, we would swear unswerving loyalty to the Sect Leader."
Instead of the Three-Bow Rite, the Pavilion Mistress offered a half-bow. At that, every courtesan and cook in turn offered a half-bow to Master.
"I told you, such things make me uncomfortable. Please, rise."
Even a half-bow, when performed by tens of people at once. Master waved her hands dismissively and bade them stand.
"We shall now close Red Flower Pavilion and move our household to Yeongsan."
At the Pavilion Mistress's words, Master asked with concern,
"There are this many of you? More than fifty altogether? In a remote place like Yeongsan, there's no inn large enough to accommodate so many. For women, a safe and comfortable base is far more important than it is for men. I'll write a letter for you. Until the new Red Flower Pavilion is built, some of you may stay at Seungdeok Manor. For the labor needed at the construction site, ask the White Tiger Sect to build quarters for you in their mountain stronghold."
As ever, Master was far more suited to be a sect leader than a fellow like me. Her past—always caring for her disciples like a mother and worrying day by day for her sect—was rising in stature, transformed into the grace of one who now stood above them. Though these women had trained in martial arts, their attainments were very modest. What was more, every one of them possessed considerable beauty. Even the cooks had originally been courtesans, so it was rare to encounter such a concentration of beautiful women. Bundled together as they now were, the fact that they were weak martial artists didn't matter, but if scattered among inns and taverns it could become a serious problem. Their profession required constant grooming, long baths, and wardrobes large enough for many changes of clothes—things no ordinary inn could promise. Master herself was a female sect leader, a rarity in the Martial World, and she had struggled painfully over Jeong-hyang, a peerless beauty any man might covet. Only Master could have extended such consideration.
"We thank you for the Sect Leader's thoughtfulness. As we will be without a base for a time, should you ever need information, please send word to Seungdeok Manor at any time."
Master's words had moved her deeply. She lowered her head once more, and a glimmer of tears even showed. Yeongsan now had ample wealth and ample martial power. If anything was lacking, it was only followers. With only six disciples they couldn't expand their power, so gathering subordinate forces like this again would one day become a strong fence around us.
A subordinate force, however, usually felt humiliated, which made true loyalty difficult to earn. The clearest example was an investiture ceremony. Just as Master had appointed the Lodge Master of Seungdeok Manor, Yeongsan now held the right to appoint the next White Tiger Sect Leader, Lodge Master of Seungdeok Manor, and Red Flower Pavilion Mistress. The Baek Clan Estate had the same relationship with Gyeongse Sect.
But Master—gentle and untainted by the cruelty of the Martial World though she knew it well—would instead earn their absolute loyalty. Both Byeok-geum and Peng Gang had initially asked to come under her because drawn by my strength; now they were utterly loyal to Master. That was an achievement someone like me, who habitually power-tripped over Gyeong Su-yeon, could never hope to equal.
Lee Yeon's service displayed flawless attention to the very end. She even summoned a carriage for us on the journey back to Do-hwa's house to send us off. The White Tiger Sect's ability at mountain construction truly could not be scoffed at, it seemed—professionals were indeed something else.
"You're back! Isn't Red Flower Pavilion wonderful? Did you agree to help the Pavilion Mistress?"
Do-hwa, who had been waiting in the yard, grabbed my hand urgently the moment we arrived.
"Yeah. Red Flower Pavilion is moving to Liaoning now. They said they leave tomorrow, so if you have anyone to say goodbye to, do it quickly."
"That's great! Thank you! Unni! The Red Flower Pavilion matter worked out!"
Do-hwa shouted at the top of her voice and rushed into the house, her footsteps pounding. Her face might pass muster, but with such a tomboy attitude, if she had ever taken courtesan training, she must have suffered quite a lot.
As we followed Do-hwa into the house, the sound of a baby crying reached us.
"Hmm? That cry is different from Seungho's. I think it's Seungju's child."
On our way inside, Lee Eun-ha pricked up her ears and said.
"What? You can tell babies' cries apart?"
"What? Is that not obvious?"
Lee Eun-ha looked at me as if I were the strange one. Just how much talent was she hiding in that body? If she had been born in the twenty-first century instead of the world of the Martial World, she could well have set her sights on becoming a world-class artist.
"Ah! They're different. This is a girl baby's cry."
Hearing Lee Eun-ha, Cho-ryeong chimed in excitedly, but I, despite having the keenest Qi Sense among us, had no idea no matter how hard I listened. Fortunately, Master, Jeong-hyang, and Son Yeong all wore expressions that said they couldn't tell at all either, so I at least wasn't alone in having a tin ear; that saved me from acute embarrassment.
When we entered the room, Do-hwa let out a cry.
"Unni! Jin-ah is crying! What are you doing?"
"I just nursed her. She's just fussing because she wants to be held."
"Then hold her!"
"If you keep holding her, she'll develop bad habits. I'm nursing Seungho right now."
"You just nursed Seungho a little while ago."
Seungju had taken Do-hwa's son to her breast. Next to her, a baby who looked slightly larger than Seungho was crying. When we entered, Seungju rose from her seat, Seungho still at her breast, and greeted us with deference.
"Thank you, honored elders."
In this era, norms of chastity were stricter than in the twenty-first century, yet breastfeeding was a scene one could encounter anywhere. It was considered an image of motherhood, not an erotic one. Personally, I think this view is more correct than the twenty-first-century one.
"Do-hwa! What are you doing!"
Seungju, who had so politely greeted us, recoiled when she saw Do-hwa and cried out. Do-hwa had merely put Seungju's daughter to her own breast, but Seungju's face went pale.
"Why are you shouting and making a fuss? The baby's crying, isn't she? You're holding my son, so I'm holding your daughter."
"What does that make me, if you do that? I told you. I'm no longer your unni; I am your servant, your wet nurse. What mistress in this world nurses her wet nurse's child?"
Having served guests in a high-class pleasure house, Seungju had exquisite courtesy ingrained in her body. I understood her feelings, but Do-hwa hadn't even begun to consider such reasons.
"Ah, what does it matter? I'm the mistress, and I'll do as I please. Oh my. Our pretty Jin-ah. There, stop crying now that Auntie is holding you, see?"
Do-hwa rocked the baby as though in a cradle. Seungju looked at her and sighed.
"It's all fine, but don't do that with Jin-ah. When Jin-ah grows up, she'll have to work as a servant in this house and serve you and Seungho."
"Don't be ridiculous. Who decided she's a servant? I'm going to make Jin-ah my daughter-in-law. Seungho, my son. Your mother is rich now and has already found you a bride. Grow up big and strong and marry your pretty bride."
Seungju pressed a hand to her forehead at Do-hwa's happy voice. Those two seemed like they would need some time.
The next day, our Beijing sightseeing finally began. Seungju remained at home to care for the babies, but as one would expect of a Red Flower Pavilion courtesan, she had arranged a carriage in advance to ensure we could enjoy our sightseeing in comfort. And Do-hwa, for whom the carriage itself was a first, forgot even the basics of being a guide and was enjoying looking down over Beijing from her high vantage more excitedly than anyone.
There was the Forbidden City, where the Emperor dwelled—truly monstrously magnificent, with an absurd crush of people. Naturally, we could only view its outer perimeter from a distance, but even that rendered us speechless. It was the same at the Temple of Heaven: we couldn't set foot on the altar where the Emperor himself offered rites, so we all offered prayers from below. In between, we visited the Beijing duck restaurant Do-hwa had been bragging about and the Joseon Tofu House.
Perhaps because I had now truly become a damn jjanggae, I couldn't taste the flavors of home in the tofu that even the Emperor was said to have adored, but still, there was cuisine that warmed my heart.
"Ta-da! Do you know what this is? It's a dish called naengmyeon. They say you eat it cold, like this."
Do-hwa explained confidently. By the common-sense standards of the Central Plains, a dish with cold broth rather than a side dish was a preposterous oddity, but we were already accustomed to chilled acorn-jelly soup and regarded it with only mild curiosity.
"I never imagined I'd see naengmyeon here."
Lee Eun-ha was faintly moved.
"Everyone, please try it. It's an exceptionally chewy noodle dish. They say it's a food for wishing a long life."
We picked up our chopsticks at her words, and all of us were startled. Just as Lee Eun-ha had said, that resilient, springy texture was a truly long-buried memory.
"Senior Sister Lee, can you not make naengmyeon?"
For some reason, Lee Eun-ha had never once made naengmyeon at Yeongsan Sect. It didn't seem like such a complicated recipe.
"The noodles are so resilient that they're extremely hard to extrude. It takes two sturdy men climbing onto a large apparatus just to pull them out."
Lee Eun-ha spoke regretfully. Was naengmyeon really that difficult to extrude?
"I'll have the noodle-extruding tool made at the smithy. Something sturdy, like a pair of tongs. It would need absurd strength, but that won't be a problem for me."
"Ah! I didn't think of that. I'll be sure to ask you later, then. I do know how to make the broth."
Every bowl of naengmyeon that reached the table was mul-naengmyeon. Since we had gochujang at Yeongsan, I could make a spicy seasoning sauce of sorts, so someday I would surprise her with bibim-naengmyeon.
Do-hwa guided us to every corner of Beijing—the famous landmarks and hidden spots known only to locals. For three full days, we followed her, enjoying every part of Beijing and tasting cuisines from all over the Central Plains. Zhajiangmian, the origin of jjajangmyeon, had begun in Beijing, and contrary to the poor reviews I had heard in my past life, it was an excellent and delicious dish. Then why had tangchoricheok become tangsuyuk and spread even to Yeongsan's inns, while jjajangmyeon was nowhere to be found?
And the fourth day.
"This is the famous Gongsun Clan. They say it's seven hundred years old."
Do-hwa had been guiding us quite well, so I had left everything to her, and in the end, she brought us to the Gongsun Clan. Because of the Red Flower Pavilion affair, things could have been a little uncomfortable, but after three days of solid sightseeing, we had half forgotten our mood as martial artists and simply got down from the carriage in the frame of mind of tourists.
Well, we hadn't particularly done anything wrong, and if they came picking a quarrel, we could just leave Beijing.
Do-hwa sidled up to me and whispered in my ear.
"Hey. Seven people, three taels each—how much altogether?"
"Twenty-one silver taels."
It wasn't that Do-hwa was uneducated; it was that I was the odd one for instantly providing a multiplication result with two digits through mental calculation. There was no way that the intelligence of people in this era was lower than in the twenty-first century, but this was what the difference in education looked like.
"Here. We have to queue up on this side. The entrance fee is twenty-one silver taels, but I'll pay it for you. It's my first time at the Gongsun Clan too."
We were stunned by Do-hwa's explanation.
"What? An entrance fee? You're saying that just by paying, even uninvited guests can tour the inside of the Gongsun Clan Estate?"
"Huh? Other sects don't?"
Do-hwa asked, as if we were the strange ones.
"Wow. Beijing really is different. Opening the inside of the clan estate to outsiders for money. Murong Clan would never even dream of it."
Even Master said it in disbelief, but Do-hwa led us with that same air to the very end of the long queue. Even in my past life, large corporations sometimes offered factory tours and the like, so was this something similar? As expected, people in Beijing, with its high land prices, were just different.
The Gongsun Clan's warriors, evidently accustomed to this work, organized the long line and received entrants in turn. Seeing that they admitted guests in groups of twenty at a time, it seemed there were guides waiting separately inside the estate.
"Now, to ensure smooth entry, we will collect the silver here in advance. You are seven, correct? That will be twenty-one silver taels."
A female warrior with an affable demeanor approached us where we waited and held out a silver pouch. Dressed in the martial uniform of the Gongsun Clan and smiling tidily, I thought she was rather cute.
"By any chance, do you not go by the name Jang Ga-yang?"
At the sight of the female warrior, Son Yeong asked her cautiously.
"Yes? I do. How did you know? Have I already become that famous? Heh-heh. Don't believe the rumors. I'm still barely a low-level household warrior."
The female warrior laughed brightly. Son Yeong, her face stiff, spoke to her quietly.
"Ga-yang. Don't you remember me? I'm Yeong. Son Yeong."
"Huh? Yeong unni? Whoa! Unni! How long has it been? Of course I didn't recognize you. When unni left home, I was barely seven. Have you been well all this time? Me, I see. I originally entered the Gongsun Clan as a servant, but I made a good impression on our young lady, so I became a warrior of the Gongsun Clan."
Taking Son Yeong's hand, the girl spoke with delight.
"Ah, you've come to see the Gongsun Clan? Come this way, I'll sneak you inside."
The girl hurried off toward the entrance first, her steps brisk. Master watched her and asked Son Yeong,
"Yeong, who is she?"
"My younger sister. My stepmother's daughter, so we share no blood. After my father passed, the stepmother was terribly abusive. So I left home and, while searching for a sect, I came to enter Yeongsan Sect. It wasn't a good relationship, but Ga-yang was so young that she probably didn't know about it back then."
Bittersweet, yet tinged with a note of longing, Son Yeong spoke in a subdued voice. At the sight of Jang Ga-yang's bright face waving her hand wildly at the entrance, we slipped out of the queue and headed quietly that way.
In this era as in the twenty-first century, cutting in line was practically common sense among Chinese people, so no one complained at us.