Blue Heaven Dead, Yellow Heaven Stands
"Blue Heaven is dead, Yellow Heaven shall stand."
The old man quietly recited the eight characters. As I transcribed his words, tears welled up in my eyes.
"In this Han court, this nation, two great shadows loom large. Do you know what they are?"
"I do."
"Speak."
The old man was testing me. These were the teachings he wished to impart before his life ended.
"One is the latter part of what you mentioned, Master: Yellow Heaven shall stand."
"Yes. The heavens have turned yellow. Why?"
"Rebellion and bandits."
"Correct."
The old man unfurled his fan and fanned his face.
"Fools call it a massive uprising of bandits. Plundering others' goods, killing people, seizing wealth and grain. Those yellow headbands filling the land—what do they call them?"
"Yellow Turbans."
"Yes. Thieves. They are thieves in name and deed, committing every evil. Peaceful? What nonsense. Their leaders spout rubbish about the Way of Great Peace, but they're just scum inciting revolt."
"Didn't you once defend them?"
My words left the master silent.
"You said rebellions arise because the state fails to govern the people's lives. The common folk go hungry day after day, unable to feed their children even a single grain of rice, resorting to slicing flesh from their own bodies. But now even that's reached its limit. Is there famine in the land? No. We've had unprecedented bumper crops, granaries overflowing and rotting with rice. In such circumstances, you said, it's only natural for rebellions to erupt."
"Yes, the Way of Great Peace exploited that chaos. They gathered the people and raided offices to loot granaries, distributing the grain."
The old man gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
Blue Heaven is dead,
Yellow Heaven shall stand.
"Even the imperial army can't hold back tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands starving and wielding plowshares. Let alone when the army numbers barely a thousand—who could stop hungry masses like that? If their own parents, siblings, or children were among them, who could stand against it?"
The old man's sigh deepened.
"The Han court failed to embrace the rebelling masses. Couldn't even place a single grain on their tables. They sent local officials to distant lands beyond the court's reach, but those officials didn't provide food—they stole even the grains on the tables."
"Having bought their posts through corruption, they need to recoup their investment—no, more than that."
"Indeed. Having purchased their offices with money, they must fill their coffers accordingly. From whom? The people. They squeezed the people's lifeblood. There are thieves among the people, and the people have become thieves—but who made them so? The ones in Luoyang, in the imperial palace."
The old man's half-closed eyes trembled faintly. Just uttering "imperial palace" made his limbs shake.
"People commonly say the Ten Attendants scheme around the emperor. But they're wrong. The Ten Attendants are merely the most vicious. They infest the entire Central Plains, the whole Han realm... the officials."
"You once said as much, Master. Those who eat the court's salary fall into two categories: those who've already gorged themselves, and those still sucking their fingers, waiting their turn."
"Yes. There are no honest ones. True heroes don't exist in this world."
The old man fixed his gaze on me.
"Who do you think is the hero? Who will pacify this chaos?"
"Who knows."
"You brat, you know full well—why pretend?"
The old man pressed me.
"I know the ambition burning inside you. Better than anyone, because I've despised scum like you my whole life. Talented, but—cough—using it not for great purpose, just to preserve your own wretched skin...!"
"That's a bit harsh."
"Harsh? What do you mean harsh! How can the subject of such words just sit there grinning?!"
"Heh heh."
Harsh words. But blessings in disguise. For him to call me "talented trash" meant I had some real ability.
"You know the crane among chickens."
"Yes. That's why I'll keep my head down even more."
"Even if the realm seeks you out?"
"With so many capable people in the world, why should a wretch like me step forward?"
"You truly desire nothing?"
"I do. Just enough to eat, drink, live peacefully, and return to dust."
The old man threw his head back at my words.
"You'll give me indigestion."
"You bastard. You're truly rotten to the core. Defying expectations right up to the end."
"That's me."
People don't change easily.
"I'll live and die as I please. My life is mine. I'm truly grateful you took in an orphan like me with no kin. So here I am, seeing you off."
"You need to study Confucius again! No, you're fundamentally rotten as a human!"
"No sane person would stick around here."
I bowed deeply to the old man.
"Your unworthy disciple cannot stand by while the Han court crumbles! I will enter office, make the vile Ten Attendants—who mock the emperor and peddle posts—dew on the execution ground!"
"Is that how you'll live?"
"Not me."
"You... whew."
I just smiled.
"One personal question. Answer if you like, or not. In your prediction, the Han court..."
"Blue Heaven is dead."
I stated it flatly. Thick tears rolled from the old man's eyes at my blade-sharp reply.
"So it comes to that."
"It's too filthy to cleanse. The court needs radical reform now. Cutting out rotten flesh won't do— the bones are decayed."
"Then?"
"New wine requires new wineskins, doesn't it?"
"...Kuh, guards! Here's a rebel plotting against the throne! Heh heh."
The old man bellowed in mock threat. Pity no one lived around this thatched hut.
Just him and me.
"...From High Ancestor Liu Bang onward, after all these years, the realm meets its end."
"Maybe not."
"If you served the Han, perhaps."
"I lack such talent."
"You could hasten its fall."
"No such plans."
Whoooosh. Wind slipped through the window frame. The cold night air carried a faint scent of blood.
"Yes... it seems the end draws near. Blue Heaven is dead, Yellow Heaven shall stand. In this chaos, what will you do?"
"One question, Master. What kind of disciple do you hope for?"
"Of course... cough."
The old man covered his mouth, coughing. Dark red blood splattered onto his white robe.
"Heh heh, not long now. The disciple I desire... naturally, one who rights this Han court I've devoted my life to, aids the emperor, and ushers in true peace."
"I see."
His aspiration reddened my eyes.
"But you."
"Yes."
"Won't listen, will you?"
"No."
"Even on pain of death?"
"Unless my life hangs by a thread—and I won't let it."
"Bastard."
He knew me too well. I knew him well too. That's why we shared a deep master-disciple bond—yet not truly so.
He was a righteous man living for the Han court; I, a petty opportunist riding the tides to save my skin.
"Hwangga."
"Yes, Master."
"If I told you to live for the Han, it'd burden you greatly. Your path diverges, and if I force the straight one, you'll surely die."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. So you..."
The old man smiled broadly, handing me his fan. His trembling hand had blood from his mouth smeared on it.
"Live as your dick pleases."
"Master. Is that your final gift to this disciple..."
Thud. The old man's head drooped. With the fan passed and his last words spoken, he fell silent in satisfaction.
"...Live as your dick pleases? Seriously. A high official like you should go with dignity, reciting a poem."
I laid the old man on the bed. Yuan Mo of Hubei mourned three years multiple times, but I wasn't the type.
The old master—no, my master—had said it countless times: he hated rotting in the earth, so just burn him.
Burn him with this thatched house, let him soar to the heavens.
"......"
I waited until his breath stopped. Until his pulse ceased, color drained from his face. I waited and waited.
Old age. In this chaos, dying of old age was a good death. Not beaten to death by corrupt officials, not beheaded by bandits.
Far from home. No kin. Leaving a single fan to the one man worthy of disciple— this quiet passing was common in these turbulent times.
"...My legs are numb."
Kneeling so long, blood flow stalled, pins and needles. The moon had long set.
Bzzz.
A fly slipped through the torn paper window. It buzzed near the master, then casually tried to land on his body.
Whoosh.
I swung the fan. Not to kill, but it smacked the fly against the wall, legs twitching.
"...Hoo."
Crackle.
I lit the embers and quietly pocketed the fan, stepping outside.
Roar.
The thatched hut in the woods was swiftly devoured by flames. Watching the blaze, I bowed deeply on bare ground.
"Your final words, I'll heed. I'll take them as 'do as you will,' Master. I..."
I clasped my hands in silent prayer.
"...will ride the currents, live long and thin as a mere commoner."
Under the bright yellow moon in the sky, as a shadow that seeps and never fades.
"War stirs in the Central Plains..."
Hwang Wol-yeong
"...better flee to Yangyang. No conscription there."
That's me.
"Let the lords and great ones fight. I'll quietly suck honey water and live."