Impure Thoughts
For a martial artist of the Dang Clan, whose craft rested on poison and hidden weapons, mastery of the mind mattered more than anything else.
Whether slipping toxin past an enemy's eyes or loosing a dart meant to sever a throat in a single breath, only a heart held clear and still could keep the hands steady no matter what the moment demanded.
And so the Dang Clan's martial artists, from the Inner Hall to the Outer, poured no small effort into the cultivation of composure. Yet being human, no one could remain serene through every hour of every day.
The Young Master of the Sichuan Dang Clan felt one of his eyebrows twitch of its own accord.
"Leaving already? The Clan Lord will be here soon. Could you not stay a little longer?"
At Hong Chilgong's announcement that he meant to depart after lunch, Dang Gangjin hastily offered whatever might hold the old man in place.
"As it happens, a merchant caravan we're dealing with just presented us with a rare wine — Snow Flower Jade Dew. The Heavenly Flower Blood-Condensing Liquor you took with you last time came from the same people, so I'm certain this one will suit your palate as well."
"Snow Flower Jade Dew…"
"They say the finish is so exquisite that merely holding it in the mouth makes you feel as though it has already vanished down your throat. Come, now — shouldn't we confirm whether that's true?"
Even if the heavens themselves collapsed, a disciple of the Beggar Association would never refuse a drink.
Hong Chilgong's gaze wavered, just slightly, and Dang Gangjin exhaled in relief, about to turn and lead the way — when the old man spoke again.
"I'm sorry. The wine will have to wait for another day."
Into the lake Dang Gangjin had been so carefully trying to still, Hong Chilgong hurled a boulder large enough to send waves crashing in every direction.
"…It seems you have pressing business that requires you to leave at once."
In truth, there was no real reason to detain Hong Chilgong with such elaborate care. The old man had rendered the Dang Clan considerable aid, yes — but over the past few days they had already repaid that debt many times over with the hospitality due a benefactor.
"What pressing business could an old beggar possibly have? I simply want to reunite Cheongwol with her betrothed as soon as I can."
The problem was that the name Cheongwol had just left Hong Chilgong's lips.
"They must be quite the passionate pair. Judging by how they can't bear to be apart for even a moment."
Dang Gangjin's eyes narrowed a fraction. Dang Sohye had seen through the lie at once, so Hong Chilgong surely knew how full of holes his own words were.
"The two of them light up just looking at each other. Watching them, I find myself thinking I should have given up the beggar's life long ago and gotten myself married."
And yet he kept piling falsehood upon falsehood — which meant there was some reason he needed to take Cheongwol and leave in a hurry. What that reason might be, Dang Gangjin could not say. But at the very least, he needed to keep them here until Dang Hyeongeuk returned.
He bit his lip against the frustration burning in his chest, searching for something — anything — to say, when a Dang Clan martial artist approached the two of them with a face gone rigid.
"Young Master. You need to come at once."
Beneath a tree whose cool breeze dried the sweat from her skin, Cheongwol gazed up through the shifting leaves at the blue sky and let out a thin sigh.
"Haa…"
She had thought she had finally severed the bond with Seomun Hwi.
Didn't he say it then? That everything of his began with me. That if I would only allow it, he would prove it right then and there.
He had pressed his heart upon her more roughly than ever before, and once again she had answered with nothing but ambiguity. Was it not her own fault for continually leaving him openings?
Feeling the wind brush the ends of her hair, Cheongwol slowly closed her eyes.
But how exactly did he mean to prove it?
Seomun Hwi had declared he would show her his heart — yet as far as Cheongwol could see, that was impossible unless he somehow pulled the thing out and held it up for inspection. Still, the certainty in his eyes had not looked like a lie.
— How dense. Obviously he was proposing they share a bed.
— And you, who were once a man yourself, have the gall to play innocent.
— At last that erotic manual you never threw away is going to prove useful.
At the sudden phantom voices riding the wind, Cheongwol's eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright.
"What…!"
But the voices that should have gone on chattering in her ear vanished in an instant, as if they had never been.
In their place, imaginations too indecent to speak aloud came flooding into her mind like a rising tide. If she had laughed in his face and told him to prove it then and there — what would have become of her by now?
His hands had been large and strong, and the heat of them still lingered; the place around her waist where he had held her throbbed with a sensation she could not name. The lewd spring paintings she had seen in that book — the Yin-Yang Unity Divine Art — rose before her eyes. And over the figure of the man in those illustrations, Seomun Hwi's face began to settle.
Seomun Hwi, breathing hard.
A woman, her face melted with pleasure, barely swallowing her moans.
A moment later, the woman's face, too, began to overlap with someone's — and Cheongwol's breath caught as if her lungs had stopped.
"No! Absolutely not!"
She had kissed Seomun Hwi for one reason only: to soothe, even a little, the heart of a man who would otherwise have been left standing alone. She had never intended anything so shameless as this.
And yet — what of the time she had put on the clothes gifted by the master of the Jin-O Merchant Guild and watched for his reaction? What of the time she had taken his hand, wept, and begged him to marry Dang Sohye and forget her?
…
As one unmanly act after another flickered through her mind, Cheongwol's head drooped.
Cheongwol the man, and Cheongwol the woman. It felt as though two selves were tangled chaotically inside a single body.
No wonder she could not tell what she wanted.
She was about to heave another great sigh when a stranger's voice spoke from very close by.
"Worry invites sighs, and sighs invite trouble. And trouble invites worry all over again. It's nothing but a vicious cycle — why not break it here?"
Cheongwol startled and lifted her head.
An old man of solid, sturdy build looked down at her with a kindly face. She had not sensed so much as a whisper of approach — how could he be standing right beside her?
The puzzlement lasted only a moment before Cheongwol's head tilted slightly to one side. Something about the old man's face felt strangely familiar.
"Grandfather…"
"Have you already forgotten? That stings a little."
The old man grinned and gave a small shake of his head.
"We shared a meal together in one of the Golden Hall's pavilions, did we not? Courtesy of your friend."
When he first set foot in the Dang Clan, Yu Baekheon had been unable to hide his disappointment.
The beggar who had been tailing him would surely have reported that a Dang Clan martial artist had been injured. Faced with such blatant, clumsy evidence, he had expected a great deal from people who lived with the words "grace and grudge" forever on their tongues.
— The Clan Lord is away for the moment, so the Young Master is serving as acting lord.
But the head that should have been the source of any response was simply not there. Everyone else was keeping their heads down and their bodies low.
And yet when he had first entered Sichuan territory, there had been no report of the Clan Lord's absence. A question stirred: what could have driven Dang Hyeongeuk to move so urgently?
All the better, then. They say the Young Master of the Dang Clan is the spitting image of his father. I should meet him once — sound him out while I'm at it.
Thinking thus as he walked the Inner Hall, someone entirely unexpected caught Yu Baekheon's eye.
That child…
An uncommon eye that let nothing trivial slip past. Exceptional martial talent that seized every koan he tossed out and used it to climb toward the next realm. Had the child only possessed a clear ambition, he would have made her his disciple by any means necessary — and here she was, right before him.
A child of the Dang Clan, was she?
The regret lasted only a moment. He moved his feet carefully, without a sound. Even so, the child's expression kept shifting and changing, and the sight of it amused Yu Baekheon more than a little.
Our Baekyeong used to be just like that.
Laying the image of his departed daughter over the girl before him, he cleared his throat and spoke.
The child tilted her head, not recognizing him at first — then her eyes went wide, and she rose from her seat to offer a proper greeting.
"I'm Cheongwol. We meet again here."
"Yu Baekheon. I didn't expect to find you in this place either. Do you have ties to the Dang Clan?"
Cheongwol gave an awkward smile and waved a hand.
"No. I just followed a friend and was lucky enough to be allowed to stay for a while."
"Is that so?"
At her assurance that she had no connection to the Dang Clan, Yu Baekheon felt a private relief. A child of such talent, if she belonged to the Dang Clan, might one day stand across from him as an enemy. And even a man who held the greater good above all else would rather not have to cut down a child who reminded him of his daughter Baekyeong.
"By the way — what had you looking so downcast?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard. Cheongwol's eyes darted, and she did not readily open her mouth.
Yu Baekheon chuckled and lifted one corner of his lips.
"If it's difficult to say, never mind."
Then he turned and spoke one last quiet line.
"I don't know what troubles you, but meeting again like this is a kind of fate. I'd like to help you forget it, even for a little while. Don't refuse — come with me."