• Fiction

• Poetry

• Classical Fiction

View List

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Quis ipsum suspendisse

• 

  Record of the Virtue of Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min

    INTRODUCTIONRecord of the Virtue of Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min depicts the life of the second queen to King Sukjong, emphasizing political intrigue and triangular relationships.  It explores the roles of women amidst political upheaval, delving into the complexities of royal court politics. The story of a virtuous queen, a passionate king, and a deceitful consort reveals the contrasting views of womanhood in late Joseon society. This classic narrative, based on historical events, has maintained its popularity through various modern adaptations.   Three or four years passed in this state, until Heaven’s fortune returned to the country. It has been said that when suffering ends joy begins, and when joy ends sadness begins again, and so clouds gradually faded to allow the sun to shine forth. The king’s wisdom returned to him as he came to realize the innocence of Queen Min and began to suspect the wickedness of Consort Jang Hui. His wariness grew and his demeanor changed even as greater and lesser officials alike sent memorials to him on a daily basis, saying, “Queen Min’s uncles and cousins must be punished by law.” The king steadfastly refused their request, and so the Min family was able to preserve itself.     Lady Jang had a presentiment of the king’s changing attitude, so she began to fear for herself. In the Year of the Blue Dog[1] she and her brother Jang Huijae plotted to repeat the events of the previous purge by having upright people killed and the former queen executed. As their design threatened to cause a major incident in the court, the king watched their behavior and pondered their motivation until he became fully cognizant of their heinous design. On the very day that their plan was supposed to come to fruition, the king overturned their stratagem by suddenly dismissing all the deceitful and fawning officials and summoning those he had ousted.     On the ninth day of the third month of the Year of the Blue Dog, a royal servant was sent forth from the palace three times. And on the ninth day of the fourth month, the king wrote a pronouncement declaring the innocence of the former queen and ordering her to be brought back to the royal residence. He also composed a personal letter and gave it to a servant and a eunuch messenger to deliver it.  But the queen refused to accept it saying, “How could a condemned person allow an outsider into her house and receive the king’s letter?” And so she kept the house gate closed. For three days the servant stayed outside asking to be let in, but the gate remained shut to him.     When the royal servant returned to the king and reported on the modest manner with which the queen refused to admit him, the monarch became uncomfortable and frustrated. So he sent a high-ranking official from the Ministry of Rites who asked that the gate be opened, but he was refused as well. He and another official from the Royal Secretariat entreated, saying that her action was damaging the dignity of the country, but she did not relent.     The king sent a stern order, saying, “To behave in this way is to express resentment toward your sovereign, so have her open the gate immediately.” Members of the Min family took fright at the development and sent many letters to the queen, but she still refused to comply. After a few days, officials of the second grade came and asked to be let in. The queen finally said that it would be improper of her not to admit personages of such lofty positions and ordered that they be admitted through the outer gate.     The queen delivered the following message to them through her maidens.     “Though I am a condemned person, the king, through his benevolence, allowed me to live. I am filled with awe and gratitude, but how could I presume to allow people into my house when I am trying to abide by the laws of the country? I am mortified that the king persists in sending his officials to make his order known.”     The king’s envoy prostrated himself and requested several times to be let into the house. The king also sent a severe command to the Min family household on two occasions, which frightened Lord Min, the minister and the queen’s older brother. He entreated the queen earnestly until she consented to fully open the outer gate. On the twenty-first day of the fourth month, when the gate was opened at last, visitors saw that plants in the house garden had grown to the height of a person. Soldiers dispatched by the king cut down the growth, but then they saw that green moss covered the stone steps and dust obscured the windows. The royal envoys lamented it all and shed tears.     After the vegetation was tidied up, royal envoys and soldiers rested on the grounds, creating a busy atmosphere in the once desolate and dreary place. As the queen’s maidens spied upon all the commotion through the gaps of doorways, they shed tears in both happiness and sadness. But the queen regarded it all with anxiety and no hint of elation in her expression.     With the outer gate open, palanquin bearers of the Min family crowded inside. When the king learned of the opening of the gate, he sent forth four palace ladies to deliver his personal letter. They announced the arrival of the royal letter, but the queen refused to open the middle gate, so they had to wait outside half the day. Royal servants bearing other items from the palace beseeched the queen to accept the king’s letter.     Members of the Min family became mortified and entreated the queen many times not to show such disrespect to the will of the sovereign. She finally relented and allowed the inner gate to be opened. Only then could the palace ladies come before the steps to her chamber and touch their heads to the ground to confess their faults. With tears in their eyes, they looked up and saw that the queen’s appearance and attire were shabby to a pitiful degree. The ladies could not help but cry out loud at her state, but the queen merely looked down and pretended not to notice. When she was given the king’s letter, she bowed in the direction of the royal palace four times, and only after pausing for a long moment did she open it. The letter was full of expressions of remorse at his past wrongdoings and sorrow at the turn of events, ending with the request that she return to the palace. After she finished reading, she sat down in a decorous manner without uttering a word.     One lady prostrated herself on the ground and addressed her.       “His Majesty ordered me to bring back the queen’s reply, so I bid you to write a letter.”     After a long moment, the queen let out a sigh and spoke.       “Return to the palace and say that this condemned woman dares not write a reply.”     The ladies could not entreat her anymore, so they went back to the palace and informed the king of her words. The king became sad and repented his past errors all the more. Next morning, he wrote another letter to the queen and sent it off along with an outing dress, beddings, and a set of dishes. The ladies received his order and returned to the queen to speak of past events as they wept. The queen displayed neither gladness or resentment at that, her demeanor as unchanged as endlessly flowing waters. One palace lady came into to her chamber and addressed her.       “Yesterday the king summoned us and asked, ‘Did she have outing clothes, bedding, and dishes?’ We told him that she possessed none of those things. The king became upset and said, ‘I made a mistake in the past out of anger, but the palace has been lax in not taking care of her.’ Officials of the Palace Supply Office said, ‘We can prepare an outing dress and beddings right away but we cannot have a dish set ready today.’ The king replied, ‘Then send her the silver dish set that was to be used at the mourning rites at the royal gravesite.’ He then realized that the preparation of beddings would take too long, so he personally inspected his own beddings and ordered them to be sent. And he commanded that the pillow to be substituted with one embroidered with the image of the phoenix.[2] When the outing dress was being made, he became upset that it was colorless, so he had the official in charge arrested and ordered another to be made in a deep blue shade. He inspected it as carefully before sending it.”     While recounting such details to the queen, the palace lady shed heartfelt tears at the king’s deep benevolence. The queen pretended not to hear at first, but she briefly bowed down before speaking.       “The king’s favor knows no end, so how dare I refuse his command. But it is wrong to keep the properties of the palace in a common household, especially when it comes to the king’s beddings and dishes. Not for one moment should such things be in a private home. It is not proper for someone of my station, so I cannot comply. Take back those things.”       The ladies earnestly entreated her a number of times, but she would not relent. Instead, she asked that they tell the king, “All this is not proper for someone of my station, so please grant me the comfort of being treated as I should be.” The palace ladies had no choice but to relay her message to the king who was moved by her sense of propriety. So he wrote yet another letter telling her that this was a matter of the dignity of the entire country and that her behavior amounts to resenting and ridiculing the king in exposing his faults. And he sent the gifts back, telling the palace ladies that they would be punished if the queen did not accept them.     When the queen read his letter, she became filled with anxiety as she knew that she could no longer refuse his command. So she ordered that the objects be left at the house but unpacked and did not write a reply letter. It was only after her siblings, uncles, and cousins beseeched her and the palace ladies begged her that she took out a piece of paper and wrote a letter of only five or six lines. She sealed it and gave it to the palace ladies who returned to the king and informed him of her actions. The king happily unsealed the letter and read it. In gentle and courteous words, she confessed her faults profusely, which both saddened and impressed the king.     The following day was the twenty-third day of the month which was the queen’s birthday. On the occasion the king wrote another letter and sent it along with food. He commanded, “Everyone in the palace should send her gifts just like in the old days,” spreading word of his favor across the capital. As people obeyed his order with a glad heart, members of the Min family shed tears in gratitude, but it filled the queen with nothing but dread.     “How can a condemned person accept gifts from the royal palace at a private home?” she said and sent them back.     The king tried to persuade her to accept them a few times, and officials from the palace entreated her as well, but she would not relent. All the officials and commoners of the country endlessly praised the nobility of her character and conduct.     At this time the widow of the queen’s father came, and the queen treated her with usual care and devotion. Wives from her family also visited her day after day, and palace eunuchs took turns keeping watch over the house at night. With officials and ladies of the Palace Maintenance Office protecting the place, the procedure for entering it became increasingly strict. When it became difficult for people to see her, the queen ordered, “Do not prevent people from coming in.” While she received her visiting relatives, she maintained her usual stance in being neither intimate with them nor neglectful of them.     The Directorate of Astrology selected an auspicious day for the queen’s return to the royal palace, which was the twenty-seventh day of the fourth month. The king personally selected a eunuch who was sent to relay his order for her to return. The queen reacted with astonishment and refused.      “Because the king’s benevolence knows no end, I was allowed to live on to gaze at the sun, to see my elders and siblings, and to exchange loving words with my relatives. I am grateful for all those things, but how could I dare go to the royal palace to look up to the king’s face?”      As she persisted in refusing to accept his gifts, the king sent a stern order to the Min family household and sent ministers and other high-ranking officials to seek an audience with the queen. The monarch also sent four or five letters every day, until the queen finally understood the futility of her actions and accepted his will. She let out a quiet sigh as she bowed to necessity. She put on a proper dress and proceeded to the royal palace.     The daughter of the queen’s older brother Min Jinhu had been eight years old when she had been brought into her household, and now she was thirteen. Under the queen’s guidance, she had become a girl of beauteous speech and behavior. The queen cried as she held her hand and could hardly make herself leave, and the young lady Min could not refrain from weeping and sobbing as well. All those around them tried to console them as they grieved.     When the golden-hued royal palanquin came, the queen dismissed it saying, “I will ride an official’s palanquin.” The royal servants told her that it would displease the king, and the members of the queen’s family entreated her as well, so she relented by ascending the royal palanquin. As she made her way to the royal palace, the great roads of the capital were filled with people bearing flags and decorative weapons, palace maidens in splendid attire lined up in pairs before her, generals led thousands of soldiers from the king’s guards to protect the queen, and officials of the highest and the middle rank accompanied her. The queen’s behavior was so proper and noble that she emitted a powerful fragrance and a brilliant light. The weather was fine, with a wind that smelled sweet and a sky that was filled with auspicious clouds. The roads were crowded with spectators, some of whom danced in joy while others shed tears thinking of past events. Wives of high-ranking officials rented out street stores from where they could better observe the procession. There were more people out on that day than on the occasion of the royal wedding. In the past, the queen had left the palace in a palanquin covered in white cloth, followed by weeping palace maidens and officials. Who could have predicted then that a day like this would come? This was the result of Heaven itself being moved by Queen Min’s unfortunate fate and high virtue. And so the king had been compelled to realizing his ultimate will. All the palace maidens found themselves happy and sad, and so they wept but they laughed as well.     The king made sure that the queen’s chamber was furnished with a table and sitting mats, and walked through its garden to see that the place had everything she would need. He summoned a palace maiden and asked, “Why are there no hairdressing implements here?”     The maiden replied in fear, “I did not think of it.”     The king became angry and ordered them to be brought immediately. The maiden in charge of the implements, in her panic, unknowingly brought one that was bent over on one side.  When the king personally inspected it and saw the damage, he became angry. He had another one brought and had the fault of the maiden in charge be recorded. As the people around him saw how the king’s judgment was sound and certain, they were impressed by his care of the queen.     When the queen was returning to the royal palace, the king went up to the top of a high building where he was pleased to see so many joyful people. When the phoenix-decorated royal palanquin arrived, he ordered that the queen be brought below the building’s parapet. Palace maidens came to the side of the palanquin and informed the queen of the king’s presence, but she said, “How could a condemned person dare go before the king?” And she refused to come out.       The king came and opened the palanquin’s door, pushed aside its beaded screen, and took up a fan to blow some air into it. The queen, recognizing the monarch’s endless benevolence, came out and prostrated herself to confess her faults. As the king felt uncomfortable at the scene, he ordered palace maidens to help her up and bring her into the building. But even after the maidens guided her in, she dared not sit on a mat but instead prostrated herself once more on the floor. She thought of everything that had happened and where she was now, which made her feel sorrow and gladness by turns. A veil of melancholy fell from her beauteous brows, and tears covered her eyes with the radiance of the morning star. Her expression became desolate and her prone form emanated sadness. The king was glad, but as he thought of the past, he was overcome with such shame that people dared not look at him or the queen.     At this time the crown prince was seven years old, but he acted as properly as an adult.  He came in and bowed before the queen four times and sat before her. She was so taken by the fairness of his maturity that she could only hold his hand and stroke it as she let out deep sighs. The king sat close to her to repent his past deeds and to console her. He spoke to her with such gentleness that his words would have melted iron and stone. The queen protested that she did not deserve such treatment from him and behaved with such propriety that all was gentle and calm between them. The king was all the more impressed and became ever more respectful toward her. All those gathered were impressed as well.     After the queen’s return to the royal palace, she was overcome with such anxiety that she could not eat anything. The palace maidens became concerned and repeatedly brought her food, but she did not touch anything even when the king ate in her company. When the monarch asked the maidens if the queen had been taking her meals, they replied, “In the past the queen’s anxiety made her weak, and ever since she returned to the palace, she has not eaten a single meal.”     The king was astonished, and he personally sent her some rice porridge. The queen was moved by the king’s concern and ate the porridge a few times but she could not recover her strength.     At this time, Consort Jang Hui, who had taken the seat of the queen and thought she would occupy it for thousands of years, was overcome with rage and frustration. She had watched the king change his mind overnight and seen the return of the ousted queen to the royal palace after many orders from the sovereign. It felt as if a lightning bolt had struck her from a clear sky and split her body into pieces, or she had fallen off a high cliff, or a thousand monkeys had jumped around in her chest. She sent a maiden to the queen with the following message.     “I still occupy the seat of the queen, so why does the deposed queen not come to pay her respects to me? Such a major breach of etiquette is the height of impertinence.”     When the maiden delivered the message, it left the queen at a loss for words. She pretended not to have heard anything and did not send a reply. All the while her behavior was calm and her demeanor upright and honorable. As the king sat with her and observed her appearance, he felt ashamed of his past deeds and angry at Lady Jang’s impudence. When he returned to his quarters, he immediately ordered the queen’s reinstatement, the restoration of the title of Grand Lord to her deceased father, the honoring of the queen’s uncle who had died while in exile at Byeokdong,[3] and the granting of official positions to his descendants. He, furthermore, took away the courtly status of Lady Jang’s father, reduced her position from queen to consort, and ordered Jang Huije[4] to be exiled.     The king also commanded his eunuchs, “Move Consort Hui to Chwiseon Hall[5] and clean up the major palace building after her departure.”      When palace maidens and eunuchs delivered their sovereign’s order and told Lady Jang to move quickly, she became furious and reprimanded them in a loud voice.     “I am still the mother to all subjects and the crown prince as well. How dare you treat me with such disrespect. I will surely make the deposed queen bow down before me.”     Overcome by her evil nature, she took out her frustration on the crown prince by beating him severely. The king heard of it and went to see her in a rage. She was receiving her meal when he came, and the sight of him raised her spitefulness to the extent of turning her face red and blue.     “I still occupy the position of queen, so how is it that the deposed queen does not pay her respects to me, and what crime have I committed that I must be sent down to a lower hall?”     The king became very angry as he addressed her.     “How dare you expect the queen to pay her respects, and how dare you think that you can keep the position of queen?”     Lady Jang suddenly kicked her meal table with great force and replied.     “How could I not remain the queen when I am the mother of the crown prince? I will surely see Lady Min bow down before me.”     As the meal table broke apart and food fell all over the place, the people present were dumbfounded by her dissolute behavior. The king became astonished and all the more furious.  He ordered that she be dragged out of the building. As there were many in the palace who greatly resented her, they heartily followed the king’s order as they rushed in, carried Lady Jang out and dragged her to the lower hall. All that time she heaped abusive words at the queen, cursing her endlessly. The king wanted to oust her right away, but he knew that he had to settle everything in a proper manner. He also refrained from punishing her further in consideration of the crown prince.     A favorable day was chosen for the queen to regain her place in the court with all proper rituals. She refused the honor three times but she ultimately relented, putting on a ceremonial dress and taking her place as the queen. When it was done, she descended from her seat to express her gratitude for the king’s benevolence. As the rites were conducted with utmost solemnity and splendor, it was even more beauteous than her initial ascension. With his face filled with a joyful expression, the king held the queen as they sat down together to receive the congratulations of his concubines and palace ladies. Numerous officials of the court also came to offer their felicitations. A gentle wind blew outside and auspicious clouds surrounded the royal palace, so there was a general sense of harmony. As peace came to the place, sounds of joyful people spread and all subjects of the land obeyed their sovereign with glad hearts.     Princess Daejang and Princess Myeongan came to see the king, feeling happy and sad by turns as they spoke of how everything was made possible by the wisdom of the king and the virtue of the queen. The princesses expressed their gratitude for the sovereign’s benevolence but spoke no word about the queen’s sufferings of the past six years. They only praised him for his wisdom as they stayed at the palace for four or five days. The king personally arranged a feast where the princesses and all other relatives of the king gathered to enjoy themselves. Ever since the queen’s return to the place, the sense of harmony reigned ever more strongly.     The king may have had a stern demeanor and spoke very little, but he was careful to observe everything and to stand by his principles. He exiled to faraway places the palace maidens who had acted impudently when the queen had been deposed, and he promoted those who had followed the queen, increasing their salaries so that they might live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Other maidens envied them greatly. He also summoned back all the officials who had been ousted for entreating the king not to depose the queen and granted them important positions in the government. He shed tears thinking of the loyalty of those who had died during the controversy and sent gifts to perform proper mourning rites at their graves. He also built a memorial hall where they could be honored in the spring and autumn, so that their fidelity and integrity could be promoted and their names renowned among their descendants. Their sons were granted court positions with generous salaries so that they could support their parents and children. The king even wrote personal letters to their households consoling them. They were all greatly moved and awed by his favors. Everyone within and outside the royal court joyfully gave thanks and offered congratulations.       The king was very upset at Consort Hui’s wickedness and impudence, but he treated her with respect in consideration of the crown prince, granting her all due honors and riches second only to those of the queen. And he showed great favor by allowing her to live in Chwiseon Hall in the royal palace. Even vicious beasts like snakes and scorpions would have acknowledged their guilt and felt grateful, but not Consort Hui. She had dared to go beyond her station in ascending to the position of queen, to be looked up to by the entire country and to receive the affection of the king. But now that she had so suddenly been deprived of her position and demoted to the status of a consort, she became filled with resentment. And she held the queen responsible for all her troubles.     Her words lacked modesty and her mind was inflamed by evil thoughts. Whenever she saw the crown prince, she beat him mercilessly until he fell ill. The king became enraged and forbade the crown prince from visiting Yeongsukgung Palace. But the prince persisted in asking, “How could you not allow me to see my own mother?” and wept. The king consoled him by giving him toys to play with, and had him stay with the queen. She showed him such love that the crown prince stopped thinking about his mother.     Lady Jang’s power was based on her status as the mother of the crown prince, but she could no longer see her son and the king stopped visiting her as well. No one had any sympathy for her so she fell into loneliness that was deeper than what the queen had known in the past. How pitiful it was! Good people are bound to receive fortune and the wicked misfortune. Heaven may be a lofty place but it listens to all things in the lower world. When the queen had been ousted, everyone in the land had lamented her fate. Her body may have suffered but her name had remained radiant. But when Lady Jang had been deposed, everyone in the land had thought it was right and those in the royal palace had rejoiced, snorting in contempt at her. That made Lady Jang all the more resentful, embarrassed, and hate-filled as she thought of the queen. When she took walks in the garden, she could overhear the queen’s joyous sounds while she played. Hearing of the queen’s good fortune caused a sensation of things crumbling to pieces inside Lady Jang. She also heard stories from outside the palace, of the Min family becoming renowned as it received the special favor of the king and congratulations from all the land. Meanwhile, her brother Jang Huijae, who had been exiled to Jeju Island as a criminal, received no sympathy from anyone. Her vexation from all this pained her greatly. As evil thoughts gathered like clouds in her mind at all hours, she could hardly control herself. She used all the treasures she had greedily accumulated to scheme with nefarious palace maidens, obtaining poison and trying to put it in the queen’s food. But the queen suspected that she might do such a thing and had her palace maidens guard against it with utmost vigilance. She also had all her meals prepared only by her most loyal maidens, so she was able to avoid disaster. Everyone in the royal palace knew of her enlightened mind and obeyed her with loyalty, so there was none around her who would commit such an evil act against her.       Lady Jang, in frustration, laid countless curses and damnations upon the queen, her evil knowing no bounds. How pitiful it was! If Lady Jang had acted modestly and relied on the queen’s goodness, the power of the crown prince, and the favor of Heaven, she could have earned glory. But she found no contentment in life, so she created her own misfortune by hatching treacherous plans that would lead to her death. It was a truly frightening state of affairs.     At this time, an unfavorable farming season resulted in a year of poor harvest. The king and the queen became concerned so they left Jeong House and reduced the number of side dishes in their meals by half. The monarch also wrote a memorial ordering the expenses of the state to be reduced in order to save people’s livelihood. His great care in this matter impressed government officials and common people alike.       In the Year of the Red Rat,[7] the crown prince went through the ceremony of maturity as he reached the age of nine. When it came time for him to take a wife, the king and the queen personally oversaw the selection process and picked Sim Ho, a girl from the lineage of the Sim family of Cheongsong. The crown prince was twelve years old at the time of his wedding. His wife was a gentle and generous person, so she came to be much loved by the king and the queen. When the monarch was not dealing with matters of state, he spent much of his time in the inner palace, finding pleasure in conversing with the crown prince and his wife. At this time, the prince born of the concubine Choe became three years old. He was a child of extraordinary qualities who was beloved by the king and the queen. The queen constantly caressed him, loving him as if he were her own. Concubine Kim could not produce a child, so the queen took pity on her and made a point of showing her favors. And so the royal palace became filled with a sense of peaceful harmony with no evil person about. The only exception was Lady Jang whose attitude did not change a bit. She was the one who had given birth to the crown prince, but it was the queen who received the honor of selecting his wife and who became the recipient of the new wife’s devotion. Filled with evil thoughts when she was awake and asleep, Lady Jang gnashed her teeth and swore vengeance upon her.     In the company of a cunning shaman and a wicked fortuneteller, she planned evil deeds day and night. On the west side of Yeongsukgung Palace, she built a spirit house which she decorated with colorful silk to summon evil ghosts. She composed a letter to the supernatural beings detailing the queen’s family name, the time and date of her birth, and begged them to kill her. She also hung a portrait of the queen and had her maidens shoot three arrows at it every single day. When the portrait’s paper became torn to pieces, she dressed the picture in a silk dress and called it the queen’s corpse. Then she buried it by a pond. Three years passed since she had the portrait pierced with arrows, but the queen’s position in the palace remained as stable as a sturdy rock, which frustrated Lady Jang to no end.      Jang Huijae had a concubine named Sukjeong who had been a prostitute. She was so skilled in evil schemes that she had murdered Jang’s wife in order to take her place. When Lady Jang summoned her and discussed her plans, it was truly a partnership of likeminded people. In order to put the most heinous curse upon the queen, they brought an unsightly skeleton into the palace and put it in a container wrapped in colorful silk. They then waited until night fell before they buried it beneath the stone steps on the north side of the building where the queen slept. They also obtained more silk and made a dress for the queen, only to grind human bones to powder and sprinkle it in its wadding. Who could have thought of such a wicked deed? With the evil curse ingrained in the fabric and the stitching of the dress, Lady Jang wrote a falsely polite letter to the queen to accompany the gift of the dress.       The queen kindly thanked her for making the dress, but she refused to accept it. The infuriated Lady Jang offered it to her two or three more times but it was rejected every time. She had no choice but to take it back, but she prayed every day at the spirit house and endlessly schemed to use ten thousand wicked and uncanny ways to realize her will. It has been said that what is wrong can never defy what is right, and that what is wicked can never defeat what is righteous. Yet it has happened in the past that Son Bin defeated Bang Yeon. And it turned out that the queen was destined to have a short life, which is enough to make one doubt the wisdom of Heaven. After having suffered harsh and wretched treatment, she entered another time of misfortune as evil spirits descended on her.       In the eighth month of the Year of the White Dragon,[8] the queen suddenly fell ill. Although she did not suffer any specific ailment to a serious degree, her body repeatedly became cold and then feverish by turns. In the middle of the night, she would sometimes suffer stabbing pains in her joints, though on some nights she would feel fine. There was no consistent set of symptoms that troubled her. The entire palace became concerned, as did the king who summoned Lord Min to the inner palace and informed him of her peculiar illness. He also ordered medicine to be used to bring her back to health but she did not improve even a little bit. After winter passed and spring came, the queen’s snow-like complexion became ruined as yellow pus appeared on her skin and disappeared by turns. None of the doctors could fathom the nature of the ailment. The king considered that the queen had contracted a disease that was so difficult to cure because her health had been damaged by so many years of suffering. He repented his past deeds and fell into sadness. He also worried that she was perhaps destined to live a short life because of her extraordinary qualities. When the queen saw that the king was in distress, she grew nervous and bore her pain without complaint. Lady Jang knew what was happening and was pleased by it. She then planned even more evil acts.     The twenty-third day of the fourth month was the queen’s birthday. As her illness came and went, the king wanted to make certain that she did not have any regret in life so he ordered a feast and summoned the women of the Min household to enjoy themselves with her. The anxious queen refused the honor two or three times, but as the king was adamant on the matter she was moved by his favor and the devotion of the crown prince who entreated her to accept the honor. She consented to celebrate for a few days. The king and the queen were pleased by the loyalty demonstrated by the crown prince and his wife. The women of the Min household considered that it was beyond their station to be invited to the royal palace,[6] but they assumed that the queen had recovered her health. They were also grateful for the king’s benevolence, so they decided to accept the invitation. When they saw the queen, however, they became concerned as her illness manifested itself in many ways. The queen wept with worry and sadness as she spoke to them.     “I lack talent and virtue, so there is no way I can repay His Majesty for the enormous favor he has granted me. These days, my mind is confused and my thoughts are hazy as if I am lost in a cloud or a fog. I fear that I do not have long to live. I have caused concern to His Majesty, and I will not be able to enjoy the company of my brothers and sister again. So I bid you to teach your children well so they would gain virtue and fortune, and their descendants would know glory.”      When she finished, she choked up with weeping. Everyone became so distressed by the queen’s grief that many cried as well. The women of the Min family, with their hearts shaking, could not help but shed tears, but they suppressed them as best they could and tried to console the queen.     “You are still young, so you will recover presently from your illness. Please do not speak such words.”     They bowed down to her before they left. Afterward, they lamented the pitiful state of the queen and wept as they departed from the palace in their palanquins.     At this time, all the princesses and king’s consorts made dresses for the queen, but she did not accept any of them. The princesses entreated her until she could no longer refuse the honor. The dress made by Consort Jang Hui was also refused at first but the crown prince took possession of it and implored the queen to accept it. She was moved by the ardent devotion displayed on his face and felt compelled to take the dress. How pitiful it was! Calamity brought on by a wicked individual knows no limit, but how could anyone has seen through such evil? If the crown prince had the slightest inkling of what was afoot, he would have hidden the dress rather than presented it to the queen. Although the crown prince had been born of Consort Jang Hui, he had received the love and affection of a good mother from the queen, so he had become a better person than the one who had given birth to him.       While other consorts freely visited the queen’s quarters, thus establishing an atmosphere of harmony and grace, Lady Jang was forbidden from doing so due to the faults of her own making. When Lady Jang and the crown prince spoke, there was no openness or intimacy between them. He implored the queen to accept the dress, thinking that his mother was acting out of courtesy, but this would become a source of regret that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The queen did not put on the dress even for a moment, but because it was inside the building, its evil curse spread out, filling her room with a murderous air. From the fifth month onward, her illness became so severe that she could not get up.      The king became so concerned that he designated a special building for the queen’s treatment. He also ordered the queen’s brothers, including Minister Min, to personally take care of her and oversee the administration of medicine. They took the medicine and stayed by the queen’s side, nursing her with great care. She became sad every time she saw them and shed tears. She spoke to her brothers and nephews.     “Although you have gained the positions of high-ranking officials and you have earned renown, I am filled with worry for you. I bid you to use your positions well and behave in an impeccable manner so that you do no damage to His Majesty’s lofty and upright virtue. Make plans also to take care of yourself as you abide by your sense of loyalty and principle.”           During the queen’s illness, the king was reluctant to leave her side even for a day. Her noble brothers, even in the midst of their sadness, were gratified to tears by his devotion as they continued to administer medicine to the queen with utmost care. Even though doctors were always at the ready outside her chamber and tried a hundred different things to cure her, nothing worked and her condition grew worse. This was not an illness that originated in her body. How could medicine made of natural ingredients stop such an evil sickness that was born of a poisonous curse? The queen was quite alert during daytime but her sickness worsened in the night, making her utter nonsensical words. Her symptoms were very strange and none could fathom their nature. This was also part of the queen’s unfortunate fate.     By the seventh month, as additional symptoms arose, her illness became so severe that her very life became endangered. As the entire country trembled with concern and the royal palace fell into grief, the crown prince participated most ardently in prayers to the Lord of Heaven and ceremonial offerings to the Northern Dipper of the Seven Stars.[9] But the queen’s sickness only grew worse. The king could hardly sleep or eat, and his countenance became haggard from worry. Even though the queen’s mind was in a hazy and confused state, she became worried for the king and begged him to take care of himself. When she realized that she would never recover from her illness, she sent away her female doctors and ordered that no medicine be brought to her. When the king heard of it, he became concerned and brought medicine to her personally and asked her to take it whether she wanted to or not as there was no other way for her to get well. He told her that she must obey his wish for her to return quickly to health. The queen barely gained enough consciousness to address him.     “Since I have been raised to a place of great honor at a young age, there is no reason for me to desire death. But I have had to bear this great pain for over a month, so I cannot help but wish it would all end. Medicine has not alleviated my suffering even a little bit, and my pain grows worse. I have been taking it only to allay Your Majesty’s concern, but I do not think I can last much longer. Please do not ask me to take more medicine that is only making me suffer more.”     After the king heard her out, he wept as he replied.     “How could you utter such ominous words? If your stomach hurts, you can refrain from taking medicine for a few days. So please be at peace as you take care of yourself.”     The king stayed by her side and personally fed her rice porridge. As she was not given medicine for a few days she seemed to improve, which brought momentary relief to the palace. Then one day, she took medicine a few times before addressing the palace maidens around her.     “I won’t live much longer, so I don’t know how I can repay you for all your care. After you go through the three-year mourning period for me, you will go home to your parents and siblings. You will then marry and live your lives. So let us promise to meet one another in the underworld after our lives are over.”     At the queen’s words, all those around her fell into such grief that they hid their faces to weep and could not reply to her.     The queen ordered that the building of her quarters be cleaned and incense be burned. She then washed her face thoroughly with the help of her maidens, put on a new dress, and asked for the king. When the king came, she sat in a proper manner by a table, supported by maidens on either side. As the monarch saw that everyone looked downcast, he became greatly concerned and sat close to the queen. When he asked why she not was taking care of herself better, she wept as she addressed him.     “I am so grateful that ever since I became your queen you have shown me such great favors. I have nothing to regret except the loneliness I feel from the lack of children. I have not only failed to pay you back even one portion of ten thousand for your benevolence but I have caused you much anxiety. Even after I bid you farewell forever and descend into the underworld, I will not be able to close my eyes in peace. So all I can do is to bow down to you and beg Your Majesty to forget this unfortunate wife of yours and live a peaceful and healthy life.”     The king wept in great sadness as he spoke.     “Why do you utter such ominous words?”     But he could say no more as the sleeves of his dragon robe became soaked in tears.     Even in her disoriented state, the queen could see the king’s sadness, so she wept anew and let out a deep sigh before speaking again.     “Your Majesty must bring peace to the spirit of the deceased by taking good care of yourself.”     The queen then summoned the crown prince and the younger prince and had them sit before her so she could caress them. She then had the king’s consorts and concubines come and addressed them.     “Because of an ill fortune, I went through a difficult time of six years. But due to the king’s endless benevolence, I regained my position as the queen. I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life enjoying the loyal service of the crown prince and the new prince, but my unkind destiny has ordained that I would lose my life on this day. I bid you not to follow my course of misfortune but live long and healthy lives as you serve His Majesty.”     Prince Yeoning[10]  was eight years old at the time. The queen held his hand as she spoke.     “I have a special love for his child because of his extraordinary qualities. So how unfortunate it is that I will not see him grow up.”  To be continued. . .  Translated by Minsoo Kang     [1]  The year 1694. [2]  The mythological bird symbolized the decorous coming together of the sexes.  [3]  An area in the northern province of Pyeongan, now North Korea.  [4]  Older brother of Consort Jang Hui. [5]  A residence at Changgyeonggung Palace. [6]  Part of Changgyeonggung Palace. [7]  The year 1696. [8]  The year 1700.  [9]  The Big Dipper. [10] Prince Yeoning: Future King Yeongjo (r. 1724-1776), son of concubine Lady Choe.   Record of the Virtue of Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min Azalea: A Journal of Korean Literature and Culture Volume 10, 2017, 275-345.Trans. Minsoo KangCopyright © 2017 The President and Fellows of Harvard CollegeDigitally published by the Literature Translation Institute of Korea in 2022.

  by Anonymous

• 

  Record of the Virtue of Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min

  INTRODUCTIONRecord of the Virtue of Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min depicts the life of the second queen to King Sukjong of the royal court politics, emphasizing political intrigue and triangular relationships.  It explores the roles of women and political upheaval, delving into the complexities of royal court politics. The story of a virtuous queen, a passionate king, and a deceitful consort reveals the contrasting views of womanhood in late Joseon society, influenced by foreign invasions. This classic narrative, based on historical events, has maintained its popularity through various adaptations in modern media.         Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min, the second wife of King Sukjong the Great[1] of Joseon came from a noble lineage with its ancestral home in Yeoheung. Her father was Min Yujung, who served in the government as the minister of military affairs, and her maternal grandfather was Song Jungil, who was the chief state councilor.[2] She was born on the twenty-third day of the fourth lunar month in the Year of the Red Sheep after her mother Lady Song had a strange dream. Auspicious marvels appeared above the house, and a sweet fragrance filled her birth room and lingered there for a long time. Her parents, seeing the signs as portents of momentous events to come, ordered everyone in the household to make no mention of them to outsiders.      She grew up quickly, sprouting up in an extraordinary manner. Her appearance was so fair that flowers and the moon hid themselves in embarrassment in her presence, and her visage was so radiant that even the sun lost its brilliance before her. Her beauty was incomparable in old times and new. Her abilities in the womanly tasks of weaving and sewing were so fast and so skillful that it appeared as if she were aided by a hundred supernatural spirits. Yet she never displayed pride in her talents, always appearing pristine, calm, and solemn so that none could discern her thoughts. She also had a gentle and guileless personality with laudable generosity, and always seemed content with everything and undisturbed by worry. She was particularly notable for her righteous conduct, impeccable manners, and filial piety, all of which she practiced with modesty and politeness. She was a person of an upright mindset, dignified mien, considerable magnanimity, as well as faultless actions in all things. When she sat still throughout the day in a decorous manner, she became enveloped by a tranquil wind and a fair cloud. The grace and solemnity of her appearance was such that people dared not look at her in an impudent manner. The purity and freshness of her form evoked the fragrant waters of autumn, while her lofty and steadfast honor was as precious as gold and jade, and as sturdy as a pine tree. From an early age she did not care for frivolous jokes or unnecessary extravagance, and she did not often open her fair lips to speak. She dressed modestly but her extraordinary form made her stand out, while her words and actions were always proper. She was outstanding in every way. She excelled in writing and knew everything about history, but she did not pick up a brush without careful thought. For all those reasons, she was greatly beloved by her parents, uncles, and siblings, and admired by her neighbors and relatives. So even at a young age, the future queen was revered by all and her beauteous name became renowned in the land.      The water she cleaned herself with in the morning always became filled with a reddish rainbow, so her father gathered that she was destined to become an exalted personage and resolved to raise her and teach her with great care. Her second uncle Min Jeongjung was a celebrated Confucian scholar and a man of serious disposition who loved her the most among all of his nephews and nieces. He repeatedly commented that, “It has been said that when a body of water is too fresh, it invites the visitation of ghosts.[3] So I worry that a child of such brilliance will not live a long life.”       Her mother passed away early which became a source of great sorrow to her and made her sickly. She grieved for such a long time that it surpassed the requirements of proper mourning. She also demonstrated ardent devotion to her stepmother Lady Jo. Her maternal grandfather Master Dongchun[4] loved her greatly and often summoned her. In private, he said of her, “She possesses the virtues of Tae Im and Tae Sa.”[5] He taught her the manners befitting a woman from a great lineage of Confucian scholars whose loyalty to the country was unquestioned. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part to regard her as possessing the qualities of a queen. But he also saw no reason why she could not rise to that height, as it had been said that ‘only the tall mountain produces jade and only the deep ocean produces gold.’ It is no trivial thing when a great personage emerges from an illustrious family.                  In the winter of the Year of the White Monkey,[6] Queen Ingyeong, Lady Kim, passed away. The grand queen dowager, wary of leaving the place of the king’s wife empty, ordered a search for a new queen and looked for a good candidate herself. Kim Seokju, Grand Lord Cheongseong,[7] having heard of the virtues of the future queen, informed the queen dowager[8] about her. And Chief State Councilor Song Siyeol went before the king and addressed him.      “It has been said that the qualities of the mother of a country determines the fortune of all the subjects of the land. I know well that the daughter of Minister of Military Affairs Min Yujung possesses the virtues of fidelity and grace. So I advise Your Majesty not to bother yourself with a formal selection process but make a quick decision to marry her.”      The king complimented him on his words and told the queen dowager of this. She reacted with delight and wrote a letter to Lord Min,[9] telling him to consider the matter carefully. Lord Min took fright at the development and immediately presented a memorial to his sovereign, asking earnestly to be allowed to decline the honor. But the monarch refused as his mind was set on the matter. Lord Min made his request three times until the king reproached him with a stern order to obey his command. The king also summoned State Councilor of the Left Min Jeongjung[10] to court and told him that maintaining the dignity of the country was no light matter. As a government official Lord Min could not refuse his king’s will, so he left his sovereign’s presence and went home where he gathered his siblings and children. As he spoke sincerely of his gratitude toward the tremendous honor the king was granting him, he was hardly aware of the tears that fell from his eyes.      Eunuchs and palace maidens were sent out to escort the future queen to the royal residence at Eoui District.  Following the king’s order, the ladies of the palace met with the future queen and were astounded by her qualities which they came to admire deeply. As one of them told the king’s future mother-in-law, “I have received such favors from the country that ever since I first entered the royal palace I have had the honor of serving three kings. During that time, for over eighty years, I have encountered countless number of people. But I have never met someone of such high virtue and fine appearance. This is a great fortune for the country as well as its people, and I feel privileged in my old age to have had the opportunity to witness such glory.”      The queen’s good manners were indeed in full accordance of established propriety, but the king’s future mother-in-law begged off from having to hear such words out of modest embarrassment. The ladies of the palace were impressed and reported it all when they returned to the royal palace. The queen dowager was greatly pleased and waited impatiently for the wedding day to arrive.      On the occasion of the nuptials, Lord Min conducted the ceremonies with due solemnity. The king, who was twenty-one years old at the time, dressed in all the proper fineries and proceeded to the royal residence in a grand procession and delivered a goose to the table.[11] He then bade his bride to ascend a magnificently decorated palanquin that shone in golden light, closed its door firmly behind her, and escorted her to the royal palace. He had been the crown prince during his first marriage, but now that he was the king, the scale and the rites of the ceremony were of a different order. In the course of the ten li journey to the palace, the grand road was laid out with countless flags and decorations in the shape of golden axes that represented the monarchy. All the government officials came out to accompany the royal couple, as did palace ladies and maidens who were dressed beautifully with myriad ornaments on their attire. Fragrant aroma and sonorous music wafted through the buildings of the palace, and the grandeur and the dignity of the occasion was without parallel. As the bride and groom bowed to each other, the queen’s virtue and sense of propriety became manifest in her form. Her appearance was that of a radiant moon on a clear autumn sky, and her brilliance shone with such magnitude that all the buildings of the palace decorated with precious metals and jewels lost their luster and all its treasures their luminescence and fragrance. As those who belonged to the palace became astonished by her qualities, the two queens dowager became pleased beyond their expectation, and their love for her knew no end.      On that day, after she was formally installed as the queen, she received the greetings of queens, consorts, princesses, and three hundred palace ladies and maidens. The weather on the occasion was fair, with a gentle breeze blowing and propitious clouds peacefully surrounding the palace, as if nature itself knew that this was a day of the harmonious ascension of the mother of the country. The sentiment of the people was naturally favorable as they all rejoiced.      Ever since she had come into the world, the queen had been particularly observant of filial piety, so she had always served her elders with utmost care and effort. Once she ascended to her position, she demonstrated the same virtue to the queens dowager and obeyed the king in all things. In handling the affairs of her quarters, she conducted herself gently and quietly, always dealing with queens, consorts, and palace maidens with kindness and propriety, regardless of who was good and who was not, whom she was close to and whom she was not. Her love of humanity, apparent on her kind mien, was as fair as a verdant hill in spring so that all things seemed to come alive before her. But her sense of propriety and etiquette was so serious and strict that people dared not regard her frivolously. Within three or four months of her entrance into the royal palace, her influence on the people around her created such harmony that the queens dowager came to love her deeply and regard her as precious. They praised her as a great fortune for the country. The king respected and treated her with special care, and government officials and common subjects alike came to truly revere her. The queens dowager wrote an official letter to Song Siyeol praising the queen’s virtue and recommending a formal recognition of her loyalty. The queen’s mother was favored with many awards as well, to the extent that the Min family’s gratitude for their fortune became a source of anxiety.       In the Year of the Black Pig,[12] the king fell ill with smallpox and his condition became quite serious. The queen was so concerned that she worked arduously on his behalf night and day without undoing the sash on her waist. The queen dowager also became deeply concerned, so the two of them bathed in cold water before erecting an altar in a back garden to pray at all hours for the king’s recovery. The queen feared that the queen dowager might also fall ill, so she beseeched her to let her pray in her stead but was refused. Their effort seemed to impress Heaven itself as the king recovered from the disease and regained his health. The joy of both officials and commoners knew no end.      The queen dowager, unfortunately, suffered terribly from the cold she endured in her nursing, and she became ill. The king and the queen became greatly concerned and wept as they personally made medicine for her. Officials were ordered to pray at the altar of gods at the Royal Temple, while inmates of prisons were released. All the doctors of the royal palace were set to the task of preparing medicine with utmost effort but their work had little effect. The anxiety of the king and the queen turned into deep sadness, and officials and commoners alike did not know what to do with themselves.      On the fifth day of the twelfth month, in the Hour of the Tiger,[13] at her residence in Hwigyeong Hall in Changgyeong Palace, the queen dowager passed away at the age of forty-two. Officials and commoners went about in a fluster, people in the palace ran around in fright, and the sound of mourning shook the heavens. The grief of the king and the queen was so great that they could not eat meat in their meals. Their filial piety struck everyone in the palace with admiration. After the passing of three years, the queen dowager’s memorial tablet was transported to the Royal Temple. On the occasion the king and the queen grieved all over again for the queen dowager’s passing.      At the palace there was a maid by the name of Jang who became the king’s concubine and was raised as a consort with the title of Hui.[14] She was a cunning and deceitful person who knew how to please the king, so she became much loved by him. In the first month of the Year of the Yellow Dragon,[15] as the king was nearing the age of thirty, he became worried that he had no son. The queen was concerned also, so one day she discreetly suggested to him that he should pick a concubine of good qualities and try to have a son with her. He refused to consider the idea at first but the queen earnestly entreated him every day, pointing out that producing an heir was a matter of utmost importance. The king was impressed by her virtue and the sincerity of her gentle words, so he ordered the court to select a concubine for him. Princess Myeongan[16] was surprised by the pronouncement so she and her aunt, Princess Daejang,[17] went to the royal palace and met with the king and the queen.  They ardently expressed their opinion that the queen was still young and had ample time to produce a child, and so it was not right that a concubine should be selected for the purpose. The queen sat still as she listened, then put on a proper demeanor before addressing them.       “Despite my shortcomings in virtue and talent, I have come to occupy the position of queen. But I have always lived with anxiety, as if walking on frozen waters, because of the concern that I will fail to pay back all the great favors the queen dowager has shown me. And now, due to my lack of goodness, I could not produce a child, so how can I not worry about the welfare of the country?”      When she finished speaking, the princesses saw her demeanor unchanged and her attitude well composed. In their admiration for her they spoke no more of the matter and only praised her virtue. And the grand queen dowager came to love her even more as she thought her very precious.      In due course, Lady Kim was duly selected as a concubine. The queen treated her with politeness and kindness, demonstrating goodness that was equal to that of Tae Im and Tae Sa of Ju. Everyone spoke of the queen’s benevolence and admired her character and behavior. Yet the fortunes of the age were not propitious and the queen’s fate was already set. It has been said that a beautiful woman is not long for this world, that misfortune can come to the holiest person, and that no human effort can deter such a destiny. When such things occur, it is enough to doubt whether Heaven has a plan at all.      In the eighth month of the Year of the Yellow Dragon, the queen to King Injo the Great[18] passed away, subjecting the king and the queen to great sorrow as they expressed their grief night and day in the mourning rites. It was in the twelfth month of this year that Consort Jang Hui gave birth to a prince. The child was beloved by the king, and the queen was so pleased that she caressed the boy and loved him as if he were her own. If Lady Jang had known her place she would have felt overwhelmed by the great honor shown to her.  Instead, the desire to do as she liked rose up like a flame in her overreaching heart. Filled with envy at how everyone praised the queen’s goodness and appearance, Lady Jang harbored a desire to see her ousted so that she could take her place. As her ambition grew to the level of treason, she took every opportunity to spread false rumors about the queen. Everywhere she went, she told stories of how the queen planned to kill the newborn prince with poison and to put a curse on Lady Jang. She found palace maidens of immoral disposition and had them repeat the slanders, even arranging for false evidence for the king to find. It has been said since time immemorial that evil people are never lonely as they always find people willing to help them in their nefarious deeds. As tales of the queen’s wickedness increased every day, the king came to suspect her and began to treat her badly. The sly and evil-minded Lady Jang continued to please the king with flattering behavior while holding the prince in her arms. Her influence in the palace grew as the king became exceedingly besotted with her until he could not distinguish between black and white. Once a just monarch, his sense of judgment deteriorated to the extent that he dismissed wise and upright men from the government while bringing in cunning and disloyal men. This concerned his officials a great deal. The queen became worried as she knew that Lady Jang’s disposition was such that she would inevitably cause some mischief, but she was relieved to see that the prince had an upright character. Yet she never spoke of such things or revealed her feelings in her demeanor, and continued to act with ever greater virtue and an ever purer mindset.      In the Year of the Yellow Snake,[19]  the Grand Lord Yeoyang[20] passed away, bringing great grief to the queen who went through the mourning rites while refraining from eating fruits and meats. At this time, loud voices outside the court began calling for the queen to be ousted from her position. The king made up his mind on the matter but refrained from speaking of it for a while. The twenty-third day of the fourth month was the queen’s birthday, and on the occasion the quarters of the queen and consorts as well as the Royal Treasury sent the king catalogues of gifts that had been received on her behalf. The king cast them aside and sent away the food prepared for a celebratory feast. He then summoned his high ministers and all officials of the second grade and above, and announced his decision to depose the queen. Second Royal Secretary Yi Simin spoke out, saying that it was not a righteous action and that his sovereign should reconsider. The king became angry and dismissed the official from his post. Then Third Censor Yi Manwon also pointed out the wrongness of the royal order and bade him to withdraw it, which angered the ruler even more. The official was exiled to a faraway place. All in all, about forty high-ranking officials, some in important government offices, were sent away from the capital. When the king wrote up a formal order of deposing the queen, everyone in the court was astonished and became fearful. Officials gathered at a formal meeting and pretended to consider the propriety of the order, but there was little serious discussion on the matter.      The queen’s father, younger uncle, and a number of cousins held positions in the government, all of them renowned for their learning and virtue so that their names were famous throughout the land. Following the ascension of the queen, however, some of them could not do their work properly as they had to be careful of their actions in the court. They were surrounded by petty people who resented them and looked for opportunities to slander them. But no significant misfortune had fallen on them so far.      At the Office of the Royal Secretariat, Minister of Rites Min Jongdo wrote up a formal document enumerating the crimes of the queen, while Inspector General Mok Changmyeong prevented officials from gathering at the palace gates to protest the king’s order. Such villains succeeded in distancing the king from his righteous officials by agreeing and complying with everything he said and desired. As the cloud covers the sun, the king’s wisdom became obscured, and in such a state the admonitions of righteous officials became utterly ineffectual.         At this time Fourth Counselor Bak Taebo was dismissed from his position. He became concerned that the king had lost his virtue and felt a deep pain from knowing that the queen, despite her goodness, was being subjected to unjust treatment. So he sought to save her by gathering all the officials who had been dismissed, writing a memorial with their signatures, and submitting it to the king. At the head of the document were the names of Minister O Duin, Second Minister Yi Sehwa, and Fourth Counselor Bak Taebo. It read as follows.       It is a happy occasion when a king takes a wife, as that is part of the monarch’s task of carrying on the tradition of the throne’s ancestors in ruling over all the people and maintaining the country forever. As Your Majesties are the parents of all subjects, the principle of the Three Bonds and Five Relationships[21] should be the basis on which you care for the welfare of the kingdom. Yet Your Majesty has committed acts that you know to be unjust, so the trust of your officials and your common subjects in your rule has been broken. When ancient sages created laws, they considered spousal relationship to be so important that they included it in the Five Relationships. And according to the Commentary on the Book of Documents,[22] “One cannot oust someone who went through the three-year mourning period for one’s deceased parent.” Your Majesty and the queen completed the three-year mourning rites together when the Grand Queen Dowager passed away. Then Your Majesty and the queen both put on mourning clothes again and wear them still. Even if the queen had done something wrong, she should not be deposed. Yet she is made to suffer when her conduct has been as pure and flawless as white jade. Sages have said “Even dogs and horses respect what is loved by their parents.”  The queen was loved and thought precious by Queen Dowager Myeongseong, so how could someone of such filial piety as Your Majesty act so inhumanely, and how could someone of such tolerance and broad-mindedness as Your Majesty act without virtue? We prostrate ourselves to beg Your Majesty to reconsidered this matter a hundred times, to rectify the situation according to moral principles. If you heed the desire of your officials and common subjects, would that not be a good course for the country and its people? We request that Your Majesty cancel the order to depose the queen.                  When the king read the memorial he became enraged and ordered that the three officials be arrested and subjected to interrogation. He railed at them.      “You violated the propriety of a government official when you dared to slander me, so you have committed a crime that merits the punishment of three generations of your families. I order you to regain your sense of loyalty and duty, and desist from supporting the deposed queen.”      At those words, the three officials slammed their heads on the ground in submission but did not falter from their position. The righteousness of their words and the loyalty of their attitudes soared almost to the stars.      In his fury, the king ordered his soldiers to tie up their necks and hands, sit them on torture chairs, and strike them on their shins. The noise of the punishment could be heard even in Donguan[23] as blood fell here and there. O Duin and Yi Sehwa were both men in their seventies. As they were overcome with fear of their monarch and agony of the torture, they could only keep their head bowed and remain silent. But Bak Taebo maintained an alert mind and spoke out with a voice that was as sharp as a blade of ice. Even as pieces of his skin and flesh fell to the ground, he addressed the king fearlessly.      “How could an official not remonstrate when his king has lost his virtue? Your Majesty became suspicious of the innocent queen after listening to false rumors. That has led to an unprecedented and unmitigated calamity of the greatest magnitude. This is a matter upon which the moral principle of the entire country is at stake, so even this insignificant official feels duty bound to do something. How could I not when I know that a king who loses his virtue will be called by shameful names? I beg you most humbly, Your Majesty, to consider that if you should execute those who slandered the queen and cancel your unjust order, it will bring fortune to the country and happiness to your subjects.”      This angered the king even more so he struck the dragon throne and raised his voice.      “How could such an insignificant wretch as you harbor such great evil? You call me a foolish king who listens to false rumors, and you call yourself a righteous official. This torture is too light for a heinous traitor like you. Bring implements to punish his legs.”      Bak Taebo replied. “I may meet my end at the order of Your Majesty, but while I am still alive how could I not appeal to the virtue of the father of the country, and how could I not do what I can to save the innocent mother of the country?”      The enraged king ordered that his legs be destroyed and his buttocks smashed. The people present could hardly look as skin and flesh fell to the ground, bones stuck out, and blood splattered even onto the king’s clothes. Yet Bak Taebo maintained a firm countenance and would not bend to the king’s will. Even after the sun set, the king did not end the interrogation as Bak Taebo refused to admit that he was wrong. The king got up and sat down and got up again repeatedly as he berated the official.      “This is one wicked and stubborn wretch. Bring implements for the fire torture at once and put the irons on him.”      As fire was lit in front of the palace garden and the torture implements were used, the smell of burning flesh spread and dark blood stained the ground. People at the scene covered their eyes and wept while officials shivered like it was winter and knew not what to do. Yet Bak Taebo remained calm and strong. How impressive he was! A man of true loyalty does not falter before sword blades. When his body became shriveled to the extent that there was no more space to apply the fire irons, only then did his sovereign feel sorry for him. The king himself felt sick and uncomfortable from having exerted himself all day and night, so he gave an order to the royal secretary.      “Go and persuade Bak Taebo to confess his crimes and then put him in prison.”      The royal secretary went to Bak Taebo and reprimanded him.      “How dare you offend the king by going against his will? Look at the state you are in. Don’t you know that you have tired him out by forcing him to stay up all night?”      Even before he finished, Bak Taebo regarded him with stern eyes and rebuked him in a loud voice.      “A group of treacherous officials have brought disorder to the country by misusing the resources of the government. Instead of aiding the king in righteous actions, they only flattered and fawned upon him, to the extent of allowing the innocent queen to be deposed as if it were no great matter. And you dare talk down to me! You are no better than a beast or a barbarian! In death, I will be remembered as someone like Yong Bong or Bi Gan,[24] but you will live as a traitor and then die to become a filthy ghost. And your crimes will be paid for by your descendants.”      As the royal secretary silently withdrew in shame, the king realized the extent of Bak Taebo’s steadfastness. So he gave a new order.      “Put him in prison for now, and exile him to Gapsan[25] tomorrow.”      And so the interrogation finally ended.      Next day, Bak Taebo left the capital city but even before he traveled a full day he received news that the queen had been deposed. He bowed his head and lamented for a long time. He then succumbed to illness caused by the beating and the branding, and passed away that very day. How tragic it was! From time immemorial countless loyal officials and righteous persons have met untimely deaths, but Bak Taebo’s faithful integrity knew no equal since the time of Yong Bong and Bi Gan. His fair name became renowned throughout the land in his time, and his act will be known to posterity for ten million years, so has he not transcended death? It was unfortunate, however, that his birth parents, who were nearly seventy at the time, were still alive, as was his adoptive mother. When news of Bak Taebo’s death reached the capital, everyone in the city shed tears, and in the court both righteous officials and lowly subordinates lamented alike.      At this time, the queen’s health deteriorated from her grief over the death of her father, the Grand Lord. When her palace maidens heard that she had been deposed, they were shocked. They wept as they informed the queen of the development. But her demeanor did not change at all as she let out a sigh and lamented.      “How can I blame anyone for what fate has ordained for me? I order you to keep your mouths shut and be careful what you say.”      And she remained calm and collected in a steadfast state.      When Princess Myeongan heard of the sudden turn of events, she and Princess Daejang were astonished and hurried over to the royal palace to see the king. She spoke to him of the queen’s virtuous character and behavior as well as the wickedness of the false rumors about her. As she then related how the queen had nursed the grand queen dowager during her illness, the princesses’ tears fell to the floor where they sat. Despite her loyal and earnest entreaties, the king could not be dissuaded from his course so there was nothing more she could do. The princess sadly withdrew and went to see the queen. She wept so bitterly while grasping the queen’s clothes that she could hardly speak. The queen sighed and consoled the princess.      “Good and bad fortune are all the works of Heaven. This too is Heaven’s will, so what can I do but follow it, and who can I blame for it? I will never forget how you treated me at a time like this.”      The princess was impressed by her attitude and tried to comfort her.      “A cloud has temporarily obscured the king’s good judgment. He is a righteous and wise person at heart so it will not be long before he comes to regret his error.”      The princess held onto the queen as she continued weeping, and many palace maidens could not help shedding tears as well. She could hardly leave the queen’s side, but she knew that it would make the king uncomfortable, so she finally left the royal palace.      Next day, the palace-lady-in-charge received the king’s announcement of the queen’s deposition and came to her sleeping quarters to deliver the news. The queen acted as if nothing of much importance had occurred as she took off her ceremonial dress, undid her hair, and came down the steps of her chamber to receive the king’s command. She then prepared to leave promptly and return to her original home. When the palace became filled with the noise of people lamenting and crying here and there, the king became annoyed and had the behavior of palace maidens be recorded for discipline. He also ordered the expeditious ouster of the queen. Because this was an event without precedent in the history of Joseon, there was no preparation for it. A message was sent to the queen’s household, commanding that a palanquin be sent immediately for her to ride home.      Palace maidens generally followed the dictates of the powerful and sought their favor, so when they learned of the queen’s fall, many of them regarded her with contempt, speaking rudely and acting arrogantly before her. Yet the queen deliberately overlooked all that. The maidens who served her could hardly suppress their anger, but fear kept them silent as they sat in a corner of the queen’s quarters and wept with their heads bowed down together. A maiden who served Lady Jang came with the intention of going through the queen’s clothes. The queen acted as if nothing was wrong and even smiled as she put out her dresses for the maiden to inspect. But when she looked up at the interloper, it was as if sunlight shone from her open face and she could look straight into her mind. She did not utter a word, but the stern judgment of her demeanor was as sharp as a blade of ice. The maiden became embarrassed and fearful so she bowed her head and withdrew. The scene awed all those who were at the queen’s side.      The king, in his anger, pressed the queen to leave the palace quickly. There were only a few ladies left in her family, and they had moved to Aeogae outside Sae Gate.[26] The order to send a palanquin for the queen came so suddenly that before they could prepare it, the queen was already at Yogeum Gate.  By the time they hurriedly covered a palanquin with white silk and dispatched it to the palace, she was waiting in front of Gyeongbok House. When she ascended the palanquin in an upright manner and went through Yogeum Gate, she was followed by seven or eight weeping palace maidens. They were joined by all the officials and servants of the Palace Maintenance Office. The sight of her exit was so pitiful that the air became filled with worrisome portents, and the dark and cloudy weather added to its sadness. How could the misery of the scene be expressed in words?      About fifty scholars presented themselves to her outside Yogeum Gate, and about a hundred prostrated themselves at Guhwa Gate to present her with a memorial while weeping aloud at her fall. When the queen appeared, the scholars continue to shed tears as they followed her all the way to her parents’ home in Anguk District, the sound of their lamenting reverberating through the land and the sky. Commoners, both men and women, gathered thickly in the streets to lament as well, with all the stores of markets closed and even plants and animals partaking in the grief. Melancholy clouds obscured the light of the sun. At this time, the king, with his judgment impaired, was angered by the behavior of his subjects and ordered that three ringleaders of those who presented the memorial to the queen be exiled to faraway places.      When the queen arrived at her original home in Anguk District, her father’s widow met her and grieved while holding her. The queen spoke of the Grand Lord’s former glory and regretted his passing with great sorrow before she addressed the widow.      “As I am a condemned person now, the situation will become difficult if I am surrounded by relatives. So I bid you to leave.”      The widow could only sigh as nothing could be done, and so she and other ladies left for Aeogae. On that day, the queen ordered all doors of the house to be shut and locked, and kept no servants except several palace maidens. In her fall from the highest position to the lowest, she brought with her the maidens she had taken to the palace when she had become queen, and they were joined by three others who insisted on coming with her even if they should be punished with death for it. The queen addressed them.      “You are maidens of the royal palace. How could I be so impertinent as to keep you. Return to the palace.”      The three maidens touched their heads to the ground and spoke even as they wept.      “We lowborn ones could never pay back all the favors the queen has shown us in this lifetime, so how could we leave your presence even for a moment? We love the queen with all our hearts.”      The queen was so moved by their sincere feelings that she let them be.      The house was large but few lived there now, with many empty rooms and others shut up. It was a quiet and lonely place with hardly any sound of footsteps. The palace maidens were used to living in the luxurious palace with easy work, a place of liveliness and plenty, so they had to get used to the melancholy and misery of the new situation. Yet they paid no mind to their discomfort as they served the queen to the utmost of their abilities. Although they occasionally succumbed to sadness and wept as they spoke among themselves, they refrained from showing their feelings before the purity and goodness of the queen.      The queen’s uncle, State Councilor of the Left Min Jeongjung, had been exiled, along with her cousins, so there were only ladies at the family home in Aeogae. For seven or eight days the queen’s meals were sent from Aeogae to Anguk District. The queen gathered her maidens and spoke to them.      “It is difficult for them to transport cooked rice and side dishes all the way here, so from now on accept only raw food and cook them here.”      But even when they prepared the food at the queen’s home, she could hardly finish a plate, which made her maidens weep in pity. Close relatives came to visit her, but she refused to meet them and sent them away, so they dared not return.      Time flowed on, and on the seventh lunar month mushrooms appeared at the house. At their sight the queen’s expression became downcast and she shed tears.      “The queen has maintained her serenity even in the direst moments, so why is she so sad now?”      The queen let out a sigh and spoke.      “I have fallen into this state despite having acted in a faultless manner. I regret what fate has ordained for me, but I have had no cause to succumb to melancholy. During my time at the royal palace, when mushrooms were brought to me from this house I had them cooked for the pleasure of the two queens dowager who enjoyed them very much. So when I look at these mushrooms, I cannot help feeling sad.”      She wept as she uttered those words, and those around her could hardly look at her as they cried with her.      The house was in disrepair as windows and doors lacked covering, and the grass on the wide property was left uncut until it grew thickly to a full gil. Few people went about there, and when it grew dark all kinds of ghosts, goblins, and wanton demons frequented the place, terrorizing the maidens who could hardly move from fear. One day a large dog appeared out of nowhere, looking dirty and disheveled. The maidens sent it away but it kept returning to the house. The queen spoke.      “I don’t know where that dog came from but it’s strange that it won’t go away. Let it be.”      The maidens fed the dog which, after about ten days, gave birth to three puppies. They were all large and ferocious. After dark, when goblins and demons appeared, all four dogs barked loudly in unison. This caused the lewd spirits to hide themselves, ridding the place of them and allowing peace to return. Even ignorant animals came to her aid, so how could government officials not do so? As there were many lowly people at the court who had rejoiced when the queen had been deposed, one could say that there were less than beasts.      The queen had a naturally decorous and calm personality so she could not be shaken easily. But she did fear the sounds of storm and thunder and went into her sleeping room in such weather. When she became lonely, she brought in the eight-year-old daughter of her older brother Min Jinhu and taught her the Elementary Learning and the Biographies of Exemplary Women as well weaving and sewing. So she whiled away her time. Even though her situation had become difficult and sad, she never resented anyone or blamed any spirit for her fate and maintained her calmness and poise. And those who lived with her served her gladly.      As the queen completed her three-year mourning for the Grand Lord, she became thin from grieving and often fell ill. When she was given colorful clothes to wear, she refused them, saying, “How could a condemned person wear fancy clothing? Use only cotton in preparing my dresses and beddings.” So she only wore a cotton skirt and a single-color jacket, slept in cotton beddings, and refrained from wearing jewelry or eating precious foods.      Meanwhile, after the ouster of Queen Inhyeon, the king raised Consort Jang Hui as his new queen and ordered a congratulatory celebration to take place at the royal palace. People there became sad when they thought of the former queen and were enraged by the overreaching behavior of Lady Jang. But there was a shortage of wise people and officials in the court, so none dared to speak out. Even as they were filled with resentment and anger, they swallowed their tears and participated in the celebration. Lady Jang’s father was made the Grand Lord Oksan and her brother Jang Huijae was appointed as the General of the Military Training Agency, which the entire country thought was deplorable. As the laws and principles of the country became weakened, people hoped for the appearance of stately officials, and as the sentiments of the subjects across the eight provinces became anxious, unseemly rumors began to circulate. From time memorial it has been the case that even the greatest kings are liable to be influenced by false stories, but it was an unusual thing for a king as wise as Sukjong the Great to cause the faltering of the country’s dignity by falling for Lady Jang.      In the following Year of the White Horse,[27] Lady Jang’s son was designated as the crown prince. With her design realized, she did as she liked with no thought to the attention of those around her. As it was her wont to engage in evil schemes, she kept firm control over the royal concubines and treated palace maidens harshly. Her words were vulgar and her behavior arrogant to an indescribable degree. And Jang Huijae was so greedy and wicked that he caused disturbances across the eight provinces, yet none dared to speak out against him. To be continued. . .  Translated by Minsoo Kang      Record of the Virtue of Queen Inhyeon, Lady Min  Azalea: A Journal of Korean Literature and Culture Volume 10, 2017, 275-345.Trans. Minsoo KangCopyright © 2017 The President and Fellows of Harvard CollegeDigitally published by the Literature Translation Institute of Korea in 2022.           “Despite my shortcomings in virtue and talent, I have come to occupy the position of queen. But I have always lived with anxiety, as if walking on frozen waters, because of the concern that I will fail to pay back all the great favors the queen dowager has shown me. And now, due to my lack of goodness, I could not produce a child, so how can I not worry about the welfare of the country?”         “A group of treacherous officials have brought disorder to the country by misusing the resources of the government. Instead of aiding the king in righteous actions, they only flattered and fawned upon him, to the extent of allowing the innocent queen to be deposed as if it were no great matter. And you dare talk down to me! You are no better than a beast or a barbarian! In death, I will be remembered as someone like Yong Bong or Bi Gan,[28] but you will live as a traitor and then die to become a filthy ghost. And your crimes will be paid for by your descendants.”  [1]        Nineteenth monarch of the Joseon dynasty (r. 1674-1720).[2]        The highest official position in the Joseon government. [3]        A proverb meaning people who seem too good for this world often become subject to misfortune, as if incurring the jealous antipathy of evil spirits.[4]        Dongchun was the literary name of Queen Inheyon’s maternal grandfather Song Jungil (1607-1672).[5]        Korean for the late twelfth - early eleventh century Chinese figures Tai Ren and Tai Si who were revered as ideal women of great virtue and fidelity. [6]        The year 1680. [7]        Kim Seokju (1634-1684) was a member of the in-law clan to the royal family and a powerful official in the royal court.[8]        King Sukjong’s mother Queen Myeongseong, Lady Kim (1642-1683).[9]        Queen Inhyeon’s father, Min Yujung (1630-1687).[10]       An older brother of Min Yujung and uncle to Queen Inhyeon.[11]       As a symbol of love and fidelity, the groom delivered a goose to the bride’s table as part of the traditional wedding ritual. [12]       The year 1683.[13]       Roughly three o’clock in the morning to five.[14]       As a historical figure she is commonly referred to as Jang Hui Bin (translated here as Consort Jang Hui).[15]       The year 1688.[16]       A sister of King Sukjong. [17]       Title for the king’s paternal aunt. [18]       Sixteenth king of the Joseon dynasty (r. 1624-1649).[19]       The year 1689.[20]       Queen Inhyeon’s father, Min Yujung. [21]       Confucian social philosophy, based on the harmony of the Three Bonds (between king and subject, parent and child, husband and wife) and the Five Relationships (father and son, king and subject, husband and wife, old and young, friend and friend).     [22]       A book of commentaries by the Neo-Confucian philosopher Cai Shen (1167-1230).[23]       The area of the capital city just outside Changdeok Palace.[24]       Korean for Long Feng and Bi Gan, two ancient Chinese historical figures who were renowned for their righteous service to their sovereigns.   [25]       An area in the remote northern province of Hamgyeong (now in Yanggan Province). [26]       Commonly known as Seodaemun (the Great West Gate).[27]       The year 1690.

  by Anonymous

• 

  The Tale of Unyŏng

  INTRODUCTIONA 17th-century Korean novel, Unyŏng-jŏn explores the forbidden love between Unyŏng, a palace woman, and Kim chinsa, challenging societal norms in Joseon Korea. Against Confucian ideals, it delves into female experiences and desires, gaining popularity despite elite criticism. Through its nuanced narrative and vivid characters, it offers insight into love, duty, and rebellion in Joseon society, presenting a unique cultural perspective.    Susŏng Palace, the old residence of Grand Prince Anp’yŏng,[1] was situated to the west of Changan Castle at the foot of the Inwang Mountains. The mountains and streams were so graceful that it seemed a dragon would soon appear, and also were so steep and rugged that they appeared like a crouched tiger. To the south was Sajik and the east, Kyŏngbok Palace.    The Inwang Mountains meandered up and down, forming a high peak near the spot of Susŏng Palace. Although not high, if one went to the top and looked down, the shops scattered along the road and the houses in the capital looked like a paduk board[2] and also—like stars in the heavens—one could clearly see the details. The shape was as ordered as a loom clearly separates thread. If one looked to the east, the palace was in the distance and the double road to it seemed suspended in the air. The clouds and smoke were bluer in the morning and evening, intensi­fying its elegance all the more; it was truly peerless in beauty.    Drinking parties, groups of archers, poets and artists, or sing­ing boys and flute-playing boys—at the time of the blossoming flowers in the third month or the changing foliage in the ninth month, surely there was not a day when such a group would not go up for pleasure. While enjoying a clear breeze or brightly shining moon, they would almost forget to return home.    Yu Yŏng, a literatus of Ch’ŏngpa, had grown used to hearing of this peak’s beautiful scenery. He sincerely wished to go there and enjoy it as well. However, with shabby clothes and a gaunt face he knew he would only be ridiculed by the pleasure-seekers [on the mountain peak]. For long, he hesitated about going there. In the original, the paragraph breaks here, but it's OK if you want to join the paragraphs.In spring, on the sixteenth day of the third month of 1601, he bought a jug of wine, fastened the liquor bottle on his person, and walked out. Alone, he entered the western castle gate. When the other sightseers looked at him, there was not a single occasion that they did not point and laugh. Scholar Yu was ashamed and, feel­ing bad, he quickly went out to the rear garden. He went up to a high point, looked out over the four quarters, and saw the remains of the fires of the recent war. Looking over the site of Changan Palace, he saw no trace of the palace or the gorgeous houses inside the castle walls. Among the fallen walls, shattered roof tiles, buried wells, and the stone steps turned to clods of earth was only a dense growth of trees and grass.    Scholar Yu entered the Western Garden, deep in a remote mountain area. There were thick growths of every kind of grass, casting shadows upon a clear pond. The ground was covered with fallen flower petals and had not yet been touched by human footprints. With every stir of the breeze, one’s nose was pierced with fragrance. Scholar Yu sat on a rock, reciting, “When I came up to Chowŏn Hall, although spring had already ripened, there was none to sweep the abundant fallen flowers,” a line from a poem written by Su Dongpo. Soon after, he untied the liquor bottle he was carrying and drank it all down, and then drunkenly lay back, using a stone near the rock as a pillow.    Shortly, when he sobered up and turned to look around, the pleasure seekers had all scattered and were gone. The moon rose above the hill while smoke warmly enveloped the willow branches and wind caressed the flower petals. Suddenly, a strand of soft words rode in on the breeze. Yu, thinking it strange, rose and moved toward it. Sitting face to face were a youth and an unparalleled beauty. Seeing Yu, they joyfully greeted him. Yu looked at the young man and asked him, “Young sir, what kind of person are you to linger about with this beauty at night?”    The young man grinned. “What the people of olden times called stopping in the middle of the road to talk is exactly what happened in our case.”[3]    Thus, the three sat in a triangle and began to talk. In a some­what soft voice, the beauty summoned servants, and out of the woods appeared two maidservants. She spoke to them. “In this place where I have fortuitously met my old love, I also unexpect­edly met a delightful guest. Consequently, tonight will not be passed in lonely futility. Prepare a table of savory food and drink for us.”    The two maidservants received the order and left; shortly, they returned with a table to serve the three. Each took turns in offering a cup of liquor to the others. As for the taste of the liquor and food, it was all not of the human world. Warmed by the wine, the woman sang a new verse:     In the deep and vast palace, I separated with my love of yore,     The affinity of heaven is not so harsh, [thus] I met him again.     Becoming clouds, becoming rain: the pleasure was merely a dream.[4]    How deep have I been tormented on spring days of blooming flowers?    All of this has vanished and become a mote,    Yet it still makes me drench my handkerchief with vain tears.     After finishing the song, she sighed heavily and sobbed, with gemstone-like tears covering her face. Yu, thinking this odd, asked, “Even if I have no talent for composing refined, silk-like verse, from early on I was devoted to letters and ink and know something of the merits of literature. Now, I have heard your song, which is exceedingly sonorous and excellent. However, the poetic sentiment is very sorrowful and makes me curious. Tonight, opportunely, the moonlight illuminates like daytime, and a cool breeze gently blows; despite such a lovely night worth enjoying why do you sit facing each other and cry? Also, as you do not tell me your names or speak of what is deep in your minds although the liquor has added to the fullness of the emotions, all I can do is wonder.”    Yu gave his own name first and asked them to do the same. The youth sighed, answering, “There is a reason that I did not speak of my name, but as you insist on knowing it, why would it be difficult to tell you? However, it is a long story.”    Looking sorrowful, he was silent for quite a while, and then spoke.    “My surname is Kim. When ten I could write poetry well and was famous at my village school. At fourteen I passed the pri­mary state examination, and from that time everyone called me Kim chinsa. At my young age and with a gallant nature, it was not easy to suppress my stalwart heart. Moreover, because of my fate with this woman, this body bequeathed by my parents became unfilial. What good in the world would it serve to know one sinner’s name? This woman is named Unyŏng, and the two maid­ servants are Nokchu and Songok. They all were the palace women of Grand Prince Anp’yŏng of olden times.”    Yu replied, “If you bring up the story and do not tell all, it is worse than not saying anything from the beginning. Tales of the time of Grand Prince Anp’yŏng and the reasons for the sorrow of a chinsa—can you tell me of these things in detail?”    The chinsa turned and looked at Unyŏng, saying, “Many sea­sons have passed and those days are already long past. Can you still recollect the events of those times?”Unyŏng replied, “Bitterness fills my heart; on what day can I forget? While I will try to tell the story, my dearest, will you stay by my side and add to it when needed?”Grasping a writing brush, and having her maidservant prepare an inkstone, she began her story.     King Sejong had eight grand princes, and among them, Grand Prince Anp’yŏng was the most sagacious. The king loved him deeply and awarded him countless tax fields and other commod­ities, more than any of the other grand princes. At thirteen he moved to a private palace named Susŏng. The Grand Prince con­sidered that as a scholar he should study the Confucian Classics at night and compose poems or practice calligraphy during the day. Not for a moment did he stop studying. All the talented literary men of that time gathered at the palace and tested themselves against the Grand Prince. Truly, the discourse did not stop. Also, as for the Grand Prince’s calligraphy, there were none who sur­passed his talent.    One day the Grand Prince said to us palace women, “All of the talented men of this world must move to a tranquil place, and only after they study in such a locale are they able to achieve suc­cess. Since outside the eastern gate of the capital the mountains and streams are quiet and villages are distant, if one is to polish his knowledge there he can achieve great success.”Soon he had constructed a building of some ten rooms at that place. To one side he erected an altar named Pihae-dang and to the other side a shrine called Maengsi-dan.[5] It must have been his intention to lead people to think of righteousness through those names. All the men of letters and great calligraphers of the day gathered there. Sŏng Sammun was at the fore of the literary men, and  Ch’oe  Hŭnghyo was  the  best among  the calligraphers.    This line goes with the previous paragraph, but it's OK if you want to move it. One evening the Grand Prince called [all of] us palace women together and said, “Talent comes down from the heavens, so why would men have abundance and women so little? Nowadays there are many in the world claiming to be men of letters, but among them, none stands out.  From now on, you all should also study diligently!”From among his palace women, he selected ten who were young of age and had beautiful faces, and began to teach us. First he taught us Sohak onhae [Elementary learning with Korean anno­tations] and after we could recite that without help, he contin­ued, teaching Shiji [Records of the historian] and all of the Clas­sics; there was nothing we did not learn. We learned several hun­dred pieces of Tang verse such as those by Li Bai and Du Fu. He would have us recite these morning and evening, and the discus­sion would not cease. As a result, within five years, all of us had reached a great level of talent.    When the Grand Prince returned from outside the palace, he would have us sit in front of him and then he would rank our poems from high to low, encouraging us through reward and pun­ishment. Even though our excellent spirit could not approach the level of the Grand Prince, the elegance of our rhymes and perfect versification were worthy of peeking into the hedge surrounding the Tang poets of the golden age. The names of us ten were Puyong, Pigyŏng, Pich’wi, Ongnyŏ, Kŭmnyŏn, Unsŏm, Charan, Poryŏn, Sook, and Unyŏng. Unyŏng is none other than me. The Grand Prince cared for all of us greatly and always had us stay within the palace compound, not allowing us to even have a conversation with those from outside the palace. Every day the Grand Prince would drink with the literati who gathered to debate about poetry and such subjects, but not once did he permit us to come near the area, for he feared that the outsiders would possi­bly become aware of our existence. And there was always the command, “If anyone of you goes outside of the palace gate one time, for that crime she will suffer death. If an outsider knows one of your names, for that crime too you will not escape from death.”    One day the Grand Prince came back from outside the palace and called us together saying, “Today I was drinking with the scholars so-and-so and there appeared a strand of blue smoke ris­ing from trees within the palace compound. Some surrounded the top of the castle and some hovered at the foot of the mountains. First, I composed a poem and asked my guests to follow with their verses next. However, not one was pleasing to me. Each of you write and offer up a verse in the order of your age.”    Sook offered her verse first:        The blue smoke is slender as silk,        It follows the wind and comes in the palace gate.        It grows thick and again becomes thin,        I did not even notice dusk drawing near.    Then, each of the remaining nine gave their verses, beginning with Puyong:        It flies up to the heavens and brings rain,         Dropping to the earth and again becoming a cloud.         Evening falls and the mountain colors darken,        My deepest thought is yearning for the lord of Zhou.     Pich’wi followed:        Clouds cover the flowers, bees lose their vigor,        Mottled in the bamboo grove, birds cannot find their roost.         At dusk misty drizzle falls,        Outside my window, I hear the sound of raindrops.    Then Pigyŏng:        While a small apricot tree struggles to even bud,        A solitary bamboo stands, never losing its green hue.         The light shade looks heavy in an instant,        The sun sinks and the dusk turns dark.     Next was Ongnyŏ:        The sun-concealing cloud is light as silken gauze,         Traversing the mountains the verdant sash lies long.         By a gentle breeze it was slowly dissipated and,        Remaining is only enough to dampen a small lotus pond.     Then Kŭmnyŏn:        Below the mountain is filled with cold smoke,         It flows aslant by the palace trees.        In the blowing wind it scatters thither and fro,         Evening sunlight fills the blue heavens.    Next was Ŭnsŏm:        In the mountain ravine billowing clouds rise,        At the pavilion near the pond flows a green shadow.         It flies but cannot find the place to return,        Becoming dewdrop beads, it remains on the lotus leaf.     Charan followed:        In the early morning even the village entry[6] is dark,         The clouds lie obliquely and the tall trees appear low.         In a brief second, suddenly it flies off,        To the western mountain peak and the brook at its front.     I gave my verse next:        In the distant place, the bluish smoke is a wisp,         The beauty stops weaving silken gauze.        In the wind, alone, disillusioned and sad,        It [the clouds] flies off and falls on Mt. Mu [becoming rain].    Lastly, Poryŏn gave her verse:        From the dense shade of the small ravine,         From the misty breath of the capital it rises.[7]         Now, suddenly it turns the human world         Into a blue-jade beaded palace.    When the Grand Prince finished reading, he was greatly surprised. “Compared to the poems of the late Tang it is difficult to determine which is superior, and those not up to the level of Kŭnbo would not even be able to grasp the whip [for understand­ing these poems].”    He then recited the poems two and three times again, still unable to appraise the relative merits of the poems. After a spell, he continued, “Puyong’s poetic notion is longing for the lord of Zhou and thus I highly commend her for this. The rhyme and flow of Pich’wi’s poem are beautiful, and I consider Sook’s poem to be exceedingly excellent with implied meaning reverberating in the final line. We must regard these two poems as top rate.”    He continued, “At first glance, I could not judge which poem was best, but when I savored them again I can minutely judge their merits. Charan’s poetic notion is so profound that one would extol [the poem] and dance [with delight] before even real­izing it. The other poems are also all very clear and good, but only Unyŏng’s displays a feel of vivid loneliness and yearning for a lover. I do not know who this person you think of is. Although I must question about this, I will leave it for a while, for I cherish your talent.”    At once, I went down to the garden, lay prostrate, and while crying answered, “It just came out by chance when I was writing the poem. How can there be another reason? Since now the Grand Prince doubts me, even if I died ten thousand times it would not be regrettable.”    The Grand Prince ordered me to be seated and said, “As poems are what one has in one’s mind, they are not something that can be covered or hidden. Do not say that again.”He then had ten bolts of silk brought out and divided among the ten of us. The Grand Prince had never set his mind on me, but all the palace people thought that he had.    The ten [of us] all retired to the rooms in the east. There a tall candle was lit, and on a cloisonné desk lay a volume of Tang rhymes. In the volume were the sorrowful poems of palace women, written long ago. The palace women, except for me, debated the merits of these poems. Alone, I leaned against a folding screen, sitting dejectedly and not speaking, like a person made of mud. Sook turned and looked at me, saying, “Are you not speaking because you are worried after the Grand Prince doubted you for the poem you composed? Or rather is it because you are pleased with the joy of sharing love with the Grand Prince under the silken blanket [and do not want to speak of your good feel­ings]? There is no way I can know what you have in your mind.” In the original, the paragraph breaks here, but it’s OK if you want to join the paragraphs.    I gathered my collar around my neck and answered, “You are not I. How can you know my mind? Just now, I thought of a poem and was about to write it, but I could not come up with a novel wording. That is the only reason I was quiet.”    Ŭnsŏm then spoke. “Since your mind is not following your intent, you take the words of the person near you as the wind brushing by your ear. Seeing you as such, it is not difficult to figure out why you are so quiet. Let me demonstrate with a test.”     Ŭnsŏm then demanded that I, using some grapes outside the window as my poetic theme, compose a poem. I responded directly with this poem:        The zigzagging vines are like a dragon moving about,         In the shadow of the verdurous leaves dwells a sudden sentiment.        The harsh summer sunbeams illumine intensely,        The clear sky [juxtaposed] on the cold shadow is vainly bright.         Vines entangle the railing as if they have affection,        Ripened fruit, dangling like pearls, displays devotion.         Earnestly awaiting the day it will change of itself,        Riding on rain-laden clouds, it will rise to Samchŏng Palace.    Sook read the poem, bowed, and said, “Truly you are an extraordinary talent. Similar to the ancient rhymes, the resonance of the poem is not high, but you composed the poem quickly, which is considered the most difficult thing for a poet to do. I am deeply pleased and willingly submit myself [to your talent] just like the seventy disciples submitted to Confucius.”    Charan spoke. “Words should be restrained; why are you excessively praising the poem? It is only that some of her phrases are periphrastic and there is a soaring quality to the work.”    The others heard this and responded, “That is a most proper comment.”    Although my fellow palace women’s doubts about me dissi­pated with this poem, it was not a case of all people thinking as such.    The following day I heard the clamorous noise of carts outside. The gatekeeper came in, informing us, “Many guests have arrived.”    The Grand Prince had the East Pavilion cleaned and the guests ushered in; all were men of letters and talent. After all were shown to their seats, the Grand Prince showed them the poems we composed; all were greatly surprised, exclaiming, “It is as if we are unexpectedly seeing verses from the golden age of Tang again. These are not something we can match. How did you come upon this most valuable treasure?”    Wearing a smile, the Grand Prince answered, “How can that be so? A boy servant picked those up on the street by chance. While I do not know who composed them, I think it must have come from the hand of a talented person of a commoner family.”    Several of the group could not dispel their doubts, and a bit later Sŏng Sammun said, “Talent is not something you can borrow from a different age. From the previous dynasty until now, for over six hundred years the number of those in our country who distinguished their names through poetry is so enormous it cannot be surmised. However, some [poets] are turbid and thus not refined. Others are cheerful and are clear but wander; in general, the tones and rhymes are not in unison and the poetic nature lost. I do not desire to look upon such writing. Now, looking at these poems, [we can see that] the poetic nature is clear and sincere, and the thought and intent are outstanding. There is not even a small trace of the mundane world in the poems. These poems are inev­itably of ones who live at the palace never in contact with the vul­gar people outside [the palace], ones who read and recite the poe­try of the ancients day and night, and have learned it by heart. If one is to savor the meaning of the poems intently, the phrase ‘in the wind, alone, disillusioned and sad’ holds the meaning of long­ing for one’s lover, and the line ‘a solitary bamboo stands, never losing its green hue’ carries the meaning of maintaining one’s fidelity. Also, the line ‘my deepest thought is yearning for the lord of Zhou’ shows sincerity for the king. As for the phrases ‘becoming dewdrop beads, it remains on the lotus leaf’ and ‘to the western mountain peak and the brook at its front,’ if these were not written by fairies from the heavens there is no means to describe them. Although there are both merits and demerits in the rhythm, a nature imbued with virtue and righteousness is largely the same [in each of the poems]. You have undoubtedly fostered ten heavenly fairies at this palace, lord; I entreat you to deceive me no longer.”    The Grand Prince, while being moved with admiration in his heart, outwardly did not nod his head and replied, “Who said that Kŭnbo has the ability to appraise poems? How can there be such persons within this palace? Your suspicions are too extreme.”    At that time, the ten of us were watching quietly through a crack in the window, and among us, there were none not impressed [at Sŏng’s compliment].     That night Charan sincerely spoke to me wholeheartedly, ask­ing, “As we were born women, our parents all wish for us to have families. Although I do not know what kind of person you have in mind as a lover, daily your countenance grows more haggard. Now I worry about this and sincerely ask of you: please do not hide even a bit and tell me what troubles you.”    I got up and thanked her, and began to tell her what had hap­pened.     “There are many people about the palace, and I feared that someone would overhear me and gossip, so I dared not open my mouth. Yet, as you ask me with such friendship, how can I keep this hidden? At the time last fall when the chrysanthemums were in bloom and the foliage had begun to change colors, the Grand Prince sat alone in the sodang. He ordered a maidservant to grind down an ink-stick and unfurl a silk [scroll]. He then wrote ten verses on it. At that time, a boy servant came in and announced, ‘There is a young scholar claiming to be Kim chinsa, and he would like an audience with you.’    “The Grand Prince greeted the scholar, who was dressed in hempen clothes and wearing a leather belt. He came up the stone steps briskly, appearing like a bird unfolding its wings. He came in, bowed, and sat down. His countenance was like that of a Daoist ascetic. The Grand Prince looked at him once and was inclined toward him, quickly changing seats so as to face Kim. The chinsa rose from his seat and said in gratitude, ‘Impertinently I have received much warm favor [from you] and yet shamefully have not accepted your invitation. I cannot put into words how overwhelmed I am to be here now and see you greet me with pleasure.’    “The Grand Prince consoled him [saying], ‘For long I have heard of and respected your fame; now that I sit here and receive your greeting, felicity fills this house. This house becomes glorious as much as if I had gained a hundred friends.’    “When the chinsa had entered, he had already seen us. How­ever, since he was a young scholar, the Grand Prince held him comfortably in his heart and thus did not order us to move out of the room. The Grand Prince looked at the chinsa, saying, ‘The autumn scenery is very fine. I wish that you would write one new verse and so bathe this house in luster.’    “The chinsa moved from his seat, declining: ‘My fame is but vanity and has no essence. How could I boldly know the rhythm of a poem?’     “The Grand Prince had Kŭmnyŏn sing, Puŏng play the komun’go, Poryon play the tanso,[8] Pigyŏng hold a drinking cup, and me hold the inkstone. I was only a young woman at that time When I looked at the chinsa once, I felt dizzy and my heart thumped. While the chinsa looked at me, he smiled and often eyed me carefully.    “The Grand Prince looked at the chinsa, saying, ‘I have truly received you with great hospitality. How can you impertinently begrudge one verse and bring shame to this house?’    “Thereupon, the chinsa grasped the writing brush and composed a verse:    As the wild geese fly toward the south,     The autumn colors are deep in the palace.    As the water becomes colder, the lotus blossoms lose their beauty, and    Chrysanthemums heavy with frost droop in the golden light.     On the silk cushion is a rose-cheeked beauty,    From the lute rises the “Song of White Snow.”    With one measure of violet sky-colored liquor,[9]     First drunken, worries are washed from my mind.    “The Grand Prince recited this several times and said with surprise, ‘Truly you have what is called extraordinary talent. Why have we met so late?’    “The ten of us at once looked at one another, and with surprise said in accord, ‘This must be the heavenly sage Wang Zijin who came down from heaven![10] If not, how can such a person be explained?’    “The Grand Prince, while offering a cup of wine to the chinsa queried, ‘Among the poets of old, who do you think is the mas­ter?’    “The chinsa replied, ‘In my opinion, Li Bo was a heaven-sent sage; he must have been long near the incense altar of the Jade Emperor and then come down to Mt. Kunlun for enjoyment.[11] There, he drank all the jade elixir[12] and unable to overcome his drunken exhilaration, he held a jewel-like flower and broke off a ten thousand year-old tree branch, rode on the wind, and fell to this human world. Lu Zhao-rin and Wang Bo were heavenly beings from above the seas, and their poetry was in harmony with the rise and fall of the sun and moon, the changing of the clouds, the roll of the blues waves, the spouting of whales, the boundless expanse of islands, luxuriant grasses and trees, lotus flowers and water chestnut leaves, songs of waterfowl, and the tears of ser­pents, all of which they embraced in their hearts. Meng Hao-ran, who learned tones and rhymes from Master Kuang, had the most elegant tones. Li Yi-shan learned the magic arts of the sages from early on and conjured forth a wondrous poetic creative power. His life’s writings are no more than the words of a ghost [i.e., of a person from another world]. All of the other poets have their own special characteristics. How can I speak of them all?’    “The Grand Prince responded, ‘Every day when the literary men and I debate poetry, Du Fu is most commonly named as the best poet. Why do you state [differently]?’    “The chinsa answered, ‘If we only talk about what the ordinary Confucians venerate, that is same as saying raw meat and roasted meat are pleasing to the people’s mouths. Zimei’s poems are deliberately raw meat and roasted meat.’[13]    “The Grand Prince rebutted, ‘He mastered all literary styles and was especially exquisite at poetic skills such as metaphor and allusion. Why do you hold Du Fu so insignificant?’    “The chinsa apologized and said, ‘How could I dare regard him lightly? Regarding his major qualities, these can be likened to Emperor Wu going to Weiyang Palace and becoming enraged at all the barbarians invading the four quarters, and thus ordering his generals to strike the enemy; his merits are the same as a mil­lion troops with the strength of a bear extending out over a thousand leagues. Regarding the minor aspects, it is like having Sima Xiangru compose “Changmen fu” or having Sima Qian com­pose “Fengshan-wen.” Seeking a heavenly being, it is like Dong­ fang Shuo serving [Emperor Wu] while Xiwang-mu offers [the emperor] a heavenly peach. Thus, the writings of Du Fu can be said to fulfill all sort of literary styles. However, if compared with Li Bo, it is the same as the heavens and earth not being compar­ able and a river and the sea not being the same. If Du Fu drives his cart from the front, Wang Wei and Meng Hao-ran compete on the road while brandishing the whip [and driving the horses] from behind.’    “The Grand Prince replied, ‘Hearing your words, I feel my bosom is opened in a brief instant, and I am enraptured as if I were riding a long breeze up to T’aech’ong Palace. Although Du Fu’s poetry is imbued with heaven’s grandness, it is deficient for expressing passions and customs. How can it thus be compared with that of Wang Wei and Meng Hao-ran? Beyond this debate, however, I now ask you to compose a poem once more to fill this house with even more luminosity.’ The chinsa directly wrote a poem-song, on peach-blossom paper:        On the golden pond smoke scatters and the touch of dew is crisp,        The azure sky is clear as water, why is the night so long?        The gentle breeze blows aside the beaded blind with purpose,         The bright moon with its deep affection enters the small room.         When the shade at the edge of the garden is opened, a pine regains its shadow,        The wine in the cup undulates and holds the fragrance of chrysanthemums.        Although Duke Yuan is young, he drinks exceedingly well,         Do not think it odd, being drunk between jugs of liquor and then mad.    “The Grand Prince thought this all the more extraordinary and while sitting closer [to the chinsa] he grasped his hand, saying, ‘Chinsa, you are not a talent of this world, and thus, I cannot appraise the quality [of your poems]. It is not only your ability in prose and brushwork, but also the innate wonderfulness. It was not by chance that heaven sent you to be born in the Eastern Quarter [i.e., Chosŏn].’    “The Grand Prince again had the chinsa brush his calligraphy. While the writing brush was fluttering in the hand of the chinsa, a drop of ink splattered on my finger. I thought this honorable and did not wash it away. The palace attendants of the left and right gazed upon this, smiling broadly and likening it to a gateway for success. Shortly it grew late, and the water clock announced the lateness. The Grand Prince, while sleepily stretching, said, ‘I am drunk. Let us retire and rest, but do not forget: When the morning is bright, if you have an inkling, bring a komun’go and come again.’    “The next day the Grand Prince again read the two poems and said admiringly, ‘Surely he can contend for supremacy with Kŭnbo, but in his refined deportment, he surpasses him.’    “From that time on, although I lay down I could not sleep, my heart was so tormented that I could not eat any meals, and I did not know even if my clothes kept me warm. Do you not remember?”     Charan replied, “I guess I had forgotten about that. Now that I hear you speak, it as if I have sobered up after drinking, and a hazy memory has returned.”    After that, the Grand Prince frequently met the chinsa, but we were not able to see each other. Thus, I would always spy through a chink in the door. One day, on fine, snow-white writ­ing paper, I wrote a verse:    The scholar dressed in hempen clothes and girded with a leather belt,    His jade-like countenance seems as a heavenly sage.     Even if always through the bead blinds, I see him,     Why is there no destiny [for us] beneath the moon?    Washing my face, my tears become water,    Plucking the komun’go, my deep sorrow cries from the strings.     Holding my boundless sorrow within my breast,    Alone, I raise my head, appealing to the heavens.    I wrapped the poem in many folds along with a golden hairpin and sealed it, intending to give it to the chinsa, but there was no means to do so. That evening the Grand Prince prepared a drink­ing party to display the talent of the chinsa to his guests. The Grand Prince showed the two poems of the chinsa, which were read in turn with nonstop praise, and all wished to meet him. The Grand Prince at once sent a servant and a horse for the chinsa. Shortly thereafter, the chinsa arrived and was seated. However, his face was gaunt, and his vigor seemed to have vanished alto­gether; his appearance was very different.    The Grand Prince comforted him, “Chinsa, you do not yet have the worries of the Chu kingdom; did you become so emanci­pated walking around a pond beforehand?”All the guests laughed loudly at this. The chinsa rose and bowed, saying, “I, a humble scholar, impertinently have received the favor of the Grand Prince. Perhaps because of the passing of good fortune and the onset of calamity, illness has bound my body, and I am unable to eat or drink. I even had to rely upon another for moving about. Today, as I have received your gen­erous summons, I have come to pay my respects while being sup­ported by another.”    Thereupon, all the seated guests shifted their knees and paid him deep respect. As he was the youngest [among the gathered scholars], the chinsa took the seat farthest away [from the center]; there was only a single wall separating us from the inner room where I stayed. It was soon deep into the night, and all the guests were quite drunk. When I made a hole in the wall and peeped inside, the chinsa knew the meaning of this and sat facing the corner. I cast the sealed letter through the hole, and the chinsa grasped it and returned to his house. When he opened and read it, he could not endure the sorrow in his heart, and, for all the world, could not let go of the letter in his hand. It seemed that the longing and yearning in his heart toward me was even greater than ever, and it became difficult to simply survive.         Although he directly wrote a reply to send to me, there was no messenger to entrust the letter with, and he was alone in worry and lamenta­tion.    One day he heard rumor of a shaman who lived outside the East Gate and had gained fame through her supernatural ability. She also visited Susŏng Palace, where she was trusted and held in favor. Thus, the chinsa went to her house to meet her. She was not yet thirty and quite beautiful. She had become a widow at an early age and of her own accord behaved as a lewd woman.[14] See­ing the chinsa coming to her place, she treated him to a grand table of liquor and food. He took hold of a cup and without drinking said, “Today I have an urgent task, but I will return tomorrow.’’    The next day he also went and she again cordially treated him. Yet he could not boldly ask favor and said again, “I will come again tomorrow.”The shaman, seeing the unworldliness of the chinsa’s face, was pleased in her mind. However, as the chinsa had visited her day after day but did not speak a word, she thought it was probably because he was a young man too shy to speak coarsely [of his desire] to her. She decided that she would first entice him and then hold him until nightfall, whereupon she would demand that he sleep with her.    The next day after bathing, the shaman put on thick makeup and beautifully adorned herself with various ornaments. She prepared the bed with blankets perfumed with flowers and put out a jeweled floor cushion. She then sent a young maid outside the gate to wait for him. The chinsa again came and, looking at her face, magnificent clothes, and the beautiful trappings set out, thought it quite strange.The shaman spoke enticingly, “What kind of evening is it to see such an excellent person as you tonight?”    Since the chinsa had no intentions toward the shaman, he did not answer and instead stood with a troubled countenance. Angered, she asked, “Why is a young man like you not reluctant to frequently visit a widow’s house?”    He responded, “If you have supernatural ability, how come you haven’t figured out why I am here?”    The shaman at once went to her altar room and bowed to the spirits. She shook her bell-rattle and invoked the gods; her body then quivered, and the spirits made a series of mysterious sounds [through her]. After some while she turned around and said, “Ah, you are truly pitiful! As you are not only trying to accom­plish a difficult scheme to achieve your desire, but doing so in an unsuitable manner, you will certainly fail and within three years become one of the next world.”    The chinsa, with tears flowing, expressed his gratitude: “Even if you said nothing, I already knew everything. However, the sor­row pent up in my heart cannot be resolved even with medicine of every kind. If through you I could only convey this letter to her, even death would be glorious.”    The shaman replied, “With this lowborn body, although I sometimes visit the palace to perform rites, I dare not go unless I am summoned. However, I will try for you.”    He took an envelope from under his shirt and gave it to the shaman, saying, “I beg you to be careful. If this is given to the wrong person a calamity will rise like no other.”    The shaman took the letter and entered the palace gate. The people in the palace all thought her coming to the palace strange, but the shaman explained herself resolutely. Stealing a chance, she took me to a place where none were around and gave me the letter. I returned to my room, tore open the letter; the contents read,     From the time we bound our destiny with one look, my heart has grown restless, my spirit has gone out, and my mind cannot be easily pacified. Every time I look west of the palace,[15] it seems as if my bowels have been severed. With the letter that you passed me the other day through the wall, I humbly received your beauti­ful and unforgettable writing. Before I could unfold the whole letter, my breath was taken away, and before I finished half the letter, my tears had drenched the writing. From that time, I could not sleep although I lay down and I could not swallow any food although I tried to eat. Illness has touched the deepest part of my chest, and no sort of medicine will revive me. May heaven con­sider me pitiful and may ghosts help me silently. If ever, once in my life, my sorrow is relieved, I will purposely grind my body and make powder of my bones, and present rites to the myriad spirits in this world under heaven. While writing this letter, a lump binds my throat; what else can I say further?    At the end of the letter was the following poem:    The gate to the deep and vast pavilion is closed for the day,     The shadows of the trees and clouds are dim and vague.    The flowers fallen on the flowing water drift away on a streamlet,    A young swallow carrying mud returns to the edge of the eves.    Leaning on my pillow, I cannot even dream of the butterfly,[16]    In my lonely room, alone with deep sorrow, even an osprey would be rare.    Your jade-like face is right before my eyes, but why are you not saying anything?    At even the cry of orioles in the green forest, I soak my collar with tears.    After I had read the entire poem, my voice was dead and my heart lost. When my tears were exhausted, my blood became tears [and continued to flow]. Afraid someone might notice me, I hid myself behind a folding screen. From that time on I thought about him ever more, and I seemed like a stupid or mad person. As I could not hide myself through my words and appearance, it was not unreasonable for the Grand Prince to doubt me. Charan, likewise a woman with pent-up rancor and heartbreak, heard this tale and sobbed, saying, “As poems come from the sincere nature of one’s heart, they cannot be used for deceit.”     One day the Grand Prince summoned Pich’wi [and said], “There are ten of you in one place and thus you cannot study unhindered. Five of you should move to the Western Palace.”    The same day, Charan, Ŭnsŏm, Pich’wi, Ongnyŏ, and I moved to the Western Palace. After we arrived, Ongnyŏ said, “Secluded flowers, fine grasses, flowing water, a lovely forest, and a fragrant grove-it is just like a mountain cottage or a farmer’s hut in a field. This will truly be an excellent study place.”    I replied, “We are neither scholars nor nuns who cultivate the Way, but nonetheless are still confined in this secluded palace. This place truly deserves to be called Changsin Palace.”    Hearing my words, all of our attendants sighed and were depressed. After this, I wrote a letter conveying my heart to the chinsa and waited to entrust it to the shaman. However, in the end, she did not come [to the palace] until the last moment, prob­ably because she was upset to know that the chinsa’s heart was not for her . . .  The full version of the tale can be find in Unyŏng-jŏn:A Love Affair at the Royal Palace of Chosŏn Korea  Unyŏng-jŏn: A Love Affair at the Royal Palace of Chosŏn Korea(Korea Research Monograph 33. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley, 2009)Intro. and annot. Michael J. PettidTrans. Michael J. Pettid and Kil ChaCopyright © 2009 University of California, BerkeleyPages 64–86. Reprinted by permission of the Regents of the University of California.https://ieas.berkeley.edu [1] Grand Prince Anp’yŏng (1418-1453) was the third son of King Sejong (r. 1418-1450).[2] Paduk is a  game played on a board with a grid of lines.[3] This implies a very close relationship from long ago between the young man and woman.[4] The expression “becoming clouds, becoming rain” is a metaphor for sexual intercourse.[5] Pihae-dang can be translated as the Altar of No-Idleness, and Maengsi-dan as the Shrine of a Pledge to Poetry.[6] This refers to the gate to a particular section of the city.[7] While the text refers to Changan, the long-time capital city of Chinese dynasties such as Han and Tang, in this instance it indicates the Joseon capital of Hanyang.[8] The komun’go is a six-stringed zither and the tanso a small-notched flute.[9] The liquor taken by heavenly fairies.[10] Wang Zijin was the crown prince of King Ling of Zhou. For speaking frankly to the king, he was reduced in status to an illegitimate son. One day, while wandering about and playing his flute, he met a Daoist sage and became a heavenly being able to ride to the heavens on the back of a crane.[11] Mt. Kunlun is a mountain in China where heavenly fairies are said to dwell.[12] Jade elixir refers to the juice that comes from jade. Drinking this enables long life, and thus it is claimed to be a magical elixir.[13] Zimei is the courtesy name of Du Fu.[14] Mudang were considered by official society to be lewd women by virtue of their trade, their mingling with men, and their lifestyle. [15] That is, the location of Susong Palace.[16] The dream of the butterfly refers to the dream that Zhuangzi (365-290 BCE) is said to have had. In his dream he became a butterfly and was thus able to fly about seeking pleasure. 

  by Anonymous

• 

  The Tale of a Young Maiden of the Yu Family

  INTRODUCTION“The Tale of a Young Maiden of the Yu Family” is an anonymous seventeenth-century tale. This story follows the life of Yu Kyesŏn, a young noble woman destined for a marriage that remains unfulfilled due to a series of tragic events. As the story unfolds, it portrays Kyesŏn’s unwavering commitment to her familial and societal duties, exemplifying virtues derived from Confucian and Buddhist influences and providing valuable insights into seventeenth-century Korean concepts of gender, virtue, marriage, and funeral practices.    There was a young maiden [of the Yu family] whose name was Kyesŏn1) . Her style name was Chin’gyŏng and she was the second oldest daughter of the late Ch’amjŏng2) Wi. Her family originated in the southern part of the country, and she grew up in Wŏlgye [in Chŏlgang]. Naturally endowed with a lovely and charming figure, she was incredibly beautiful. By the age of fourteen, she had mastered a variety of books. Her parents particularly loved and cherished her.       When Ch’amjŏng was still alive, P’ojŏngsa3) Song Ch’ang proposed a marriage between the Yu family and his son Hyoyŏng. Hyoyŏng was a bright and noble scholar, renowned in the Kwangdong area. Ch’amjŏng, eager to have a man of virtue like Hyoyŏng as his son-in-law, agreed to the marriage and conducted the ceremony of “Receiving the Betrothal Gifts” from the bridegroom’s house4). The wedding date was set for the fifteenth day of the third lunar month of the same year. However, the day before the wedding, Ch’amjŏng’s stepmother passed away. Ch’amjŏng took his entire household and went to the south. The Song family heard little from the Yu family for the distance between Kwangdong and Chŏlgang was over two thousand li. A year passed without any word and the wedding was postponed indefinitely.        During the mourning period, Ch’amjŏng’s health quickly deteriorated. He eventually died in a hut built near his stepmother’s grave. His funeral had not yet been held when Song Ch’ang, unaware of his passing, wrote a letter urging him to uphold his promise to take Hyoyŏng as a son-in-law. A servant delivered the message, which read: “P’ojŏngsa Song at Kwangdong P’ojŏngsa respectfully writes to Ch’amjŏng Yu, a filial son in mourning. As the sun sets on the western mountain, you suffer the sorrow of losing your parent. How are you enduring your mind’s disarray which grows greater day by day with unquenchable longing for your parent? How do you cope with the immeasurable sorrow brought on by being unable to rejoin your parent? I wish I could rush to console you, but my feet are bound, tied to a trivial position far away at the edge of the sky. All I can do is to worry and weep, facing the southern sky [where you are].       My son has grown older but still he has no wife. In the fall, I hope you will be able to keep the promise you made before. Indeed, it would be splendid if you could put the wedding back on course. I am very old and my days in this world are numbered. I wish only to see my son married before my death. Because my eyes are ailing, I am unable to write at greater length. I wish you well and please pardon my lack of decorum.       In the tenth year of kyŏngt’ae,5) on a certain day of the ninth lunar month, Song wrote the above, bowing repeatedly.”           A servant of the Song family packed up the letter and made the trip to Chŏlgang. By the time he arrived, Ch’amjŏng had already been dead for over two months. The letter was instead delivered to Ch’amjŏng’s son, Sung. He placed the letter before his father’s soul seat6) and had Ch’oe Sin, who studied under the family, read it aloud. When Ch’oe Sin finished, Sung took the letter and left the room, wailing. Kneeling before his mother, he showed her the letter. He said, “This is a letter from P’ojŏngsa of Gwangdong, regarding my little sister’s wedding. He sent one of his servants to personally deliver it to my father.” His mother spoke in tears, “Alas! I never imagined that one day your father would no longer be here with us to read P’ojŏngsa’s letter. When we have not piled even a handful of earth over his grave, how could we think properly about a wedding? Yet, we cannot return the servant who traveled over a thousand li with nothing. It would be best if we could at least write a reply, thanking P’ojŏngsa Song for sending the letter. After meeting P’ojŏngsa’s son, your father often imagined having an enjoyable conversation with his son-in-law, sitting by his desk at his leisure. Unfortunately, he has passed away before that dream could be realized. Yet, how could I betray what your father planned for the wedding? What worries me is your sister has lost her father too early in life. She is in great distress, overcome with sorrow and grief, and I fear she might dissipate suddenly like morning dew before the time of mourning is over. At the same time, Mr. Song [Hyoyŏng], as a son of P’ojŏngsa, must be pressed to have a child. I doubt he would be willing to wait for us to reschedule the wedding. Write a good letter based on my thoughts. Then hand it respectfully to the servant to carry back.”        On his knees, Sung received his mother’s instructions and stepped outside the hut built next to his father’s grave. He cut a piece of paper and wrote a reply, which read, “Yu Sung of Chŏlgang, in mourning, presents a letter to P’ojŏngsa Song at Gwangdong P’ojŏngsa with a deep bow. I am he who deserved death much earlier because of my countless sins and bad karma, unacceptable to heaven and earth. My prolonged survival negatively affected my father, causing his sudden passing on the tenth day of the last month. Left helpless and forlorn, I am not able to complete the funeral ceremony, and can only wail miserably, crying out to the sky and beating the earth. Today when I received your letter, opened it, and read it on my knees, I was plunged into the labyrinth of my feelings, alternating between grief and melancholy. I placed the letter in front of the coffin to express our gratitude to you for writing from afar. Then, I asked my mother about the wedding. She said that she, although not clever, would never break the promise made by Ch’amjŏng, who valued it more than gold. However, she is gravely concerned that her young, stubborn daughter will not be able to fulfill the promise because she is seriously ill from mourning since the passing of her father. I feel similar concerns about her. Since my father passed, she has mourned by sleeping on straw with a pillow of soil. Ceaseless lamenting and deep sorrow have sapped her health so that we can’t expect her to thrive. We worry whether she can even endure the three-year mourning period.7) We are filled with regret that my father died before he could fulfill his plan to have your son as a son-in-law. We can’t predict how you will respond to our situation. I must stop writing here, as I choke back tears at my own message. We would be most fortunate if you could reach a satisfactory decision.       On a certain day of a certain month in a certain year, Yu Sung of Chŏlgang in mourning presents this letter with a deep bow.”          After sealing the letter, he gave it to the servant from the Song family, having given him wine and cake and some money for his journey back home.           Meanwhile, Song Ch’ang had been demoted. He was reassigned as the Prefect of Namnyŏng8) several days before his servant, bearing the reply letter [from Yu Sung], returned. By coincidence, the route to his new post passed through Chŏlgang, so P’ojŏngsa sent a servant to notify Sung that he hoped to stop and spend the night.          Sung instructed his servants to clean the guesthouse and waited outside the gate for Namnyŏng’s [P’ojŏngsa] arrival. Namnyŏng hurried his horse and, when he reached the bridge, dismounted to clasp Sung’s hands. [Seeing what had happened,] he immediately lamented. He then offered a message of condolence and comfort for Sung in his lonely bereavement. With sacrificial food and an address he had prepared, he presented a memorial service before the soul seat. His memorial address read:“Once we parted by taking different paths, south and east. Now, we are separated from each other forever between life and death. Already, vegetation covers your grave. Under the glimmer of the waning crescent moon over the rafters, your face shimmers. How endless my longing for you; once gone, it is difficult to come back! How sorrowful it is that you have gone to the Nine Plains,9) the place from which one can never return. This person [I, Song Ch’ang] is at my old friend’s [your] home, after heading south to Chŏlgang and passing Kŭmnŭng, on my way to my new post assigned as an official reprimand [by the Emperor]. Deep remorse floods me that I cannot find my friend at his own home! Tears gushing from my eyes turn into a galaxy of water as if I heard a flute song played at sunset while we were passing Sanyang. My only consolation is that your daughter is faultless and my son didn’t die, so we can set another time for their wedding. Everything will be all right if we choose a wedding date. Do you, your noble soul, know of this? I have no other wish.”           Having completed the memorial service, he entered the guestroom and called his son, Hyoyŏng, to request a talk with Sung. He said to Sung, “This old man has been banished to the middle of the southern region, with no expectation of returning to the northern palaces in my lifetime. Once I arrive at my new post, I plan to send my son back to care for my ill wife. I would be more than happy if we could then select an auspicious time and bring about the union of the two families this fall at the latest.”          Sung arose from his seat and kneeled before Namnyŏng. He said, “Recently my sister suffers less from her illness. Day by day she regains her health. Her recovery must be a sign that heaven extended her life so that she could be married to your noble family. Nothing could be more fortunate and I agree with your suggestion.”           Sung immediately told his mother about Namnyŏng’s suggestion. She replied, “Your father’s wish is finally fulfilled. I can now die in peace with my eyes closed,” and instructed Sung to thank Namnyŏng on her behalf. The following morning, Namnyŏng bade them farewell and departed. Soon, he formally notified them in writing of the wedding date, with the ceremony of “Fetching the Bride” on the first day of the ninth lunar month of that year. However, late in the seventh lunar month, Hyoyŏng contracted a disease while returning from Namnyŏng. He died on the road in the prefecture of Kŭmnŭng.           Coincidentally, Sung had been invited to visit Kŭmnŭng and had been staying in the house of a friend of his father for weeks. When he heard of the death of Hyoyŏng, Sung hurried to view the body and attend to the preparation of the corpse for the funeral. He took the lead in providing a temporary grave on Yŏgyang Mountain. In low spirits, Sung returned home and told his mother what had happened in Kŭmnŭng. Upon hearing of the sudden death of Hyoyŏng she cried aloud and collapsed to the ground.           Ch’amjŏng’s daughter, Kyesŏn, was in the rear of the house when she heard the news. In grief, she unbound her hair, pounded her bosom, stomped her feet and wailed loudly as if she had lost her husband. Sung urged her to stop, “Little sister, what you are doing is not proper. Why are you overreacting? You are not formally married to him in accordance with the rite of Fetching the Bride. You haven’t yet developed a special bond with him as husband and wife. Are you mourning like this just because we received betrothal gifts?”           Kyesŏn said, “People call you a learned scholar. I have always aspired to emulate a superior man by learning propriety. To my chagrin, however, you are now speaking of moral depravity. I read in the historical records and also heard from people of older generations that one must never break a promise once it is spoken, so it makes no difference whether or not Fetching the Bride was performed [as the wedding was already set]. It is said, ‘a chaste woman does not serve two husbands.’ If you try to marry me off to another household, then you are heartless and cruel. I swear that my mind is already set and I will meet my death before I will be swayed.”           She then brought a scissor and cut off the two braided buns of her hair, making a vow to herself. She went to her mother and said, “My husband passed away because of my ill-fated life. I will take leave of you and go to his grave. I will take the coffin to his hometown so that his restless soul will not become a lonely ghost in a foreign land.”           Her mother held Kyesŏn’s hands. She was speechless. Tears flowed from her eyes in torrents. Finally she replied, “Alas, my little daughter, how are you going to live? Having heard what you said, how can I stop you from following your sincere wish?” She then told Sung, “It caused me grief that I could not change your sister’s mind. However, because she is a woman, she should not travel over one hundred li to hasten [to her husband’s] home for the funeral. I think you should first talk with Namnyŏng about the necessary materials for the funeral and take the coffin to his hometown. It would not be a bad idea for Kyesŏn to join you on the day of the burial.”           Kyesŏn spoke out, “I don’t dare go against your command, but my husband had no siblings, his father is far away and his mother is all alone, so I should take charge as the only able member of the family. What will people think of me if I don’t take care of my family? I beg you to allow me to go with my brother to Kŭmnŭng and take the coffin of my husband to his hometown so that I can lay him to rest in the family burial ground. If I can do that, I will have no regrets even in my death.”           Moved by Kyesŏn’s piteous heart and praiseworthy thoughts, her mother gave her permission. She then called Kyesŏn’s nanny, Aegyŏng, and her maids, Ongmae and Haedang, and tearfully instructed them, “How unfortunate Kyesŏn is! My heart is broken since Mr. Song [Hyoyŏng] passed away unexpectedly. Kyesŏn wishes to go to Kŭmnŭng and hold a proper funeral for him. I cannot stop her when I feel such pity for her sentiment. Pack your things, accompany Kyesŏn to Kŭmnŭng and escort her back.”           Aegyŏng stepped forth and prostrated herself on her knees saying, “My Lady, my Lady, I am afraid that you are about to ruin her life. It is unfortunate that Mr. Song died, but there must be another suitor among his clan. Given that the blue bird brought no news and the red thread is not tied [by the old man under the moon],10) she is not formally married. You don’t want your young daughter to sleep in a lonely room for the rest of her life, do you? I am merely an old servant who does not know much but I feel compelled to oppose your action today.”           Before Kyesŏn’s mother could respond, both Ongmae and Haedang also kneeled and said, “We concur with Aegyŏng. We are ignorant, so we could not discuss the matter. However, deep in our hearts we feel that our young lady’s trip is improper. How could there be a bond of husband and wife when no wedding vow was ever made? We lie prone and implore you. Please subdue her obstinacy and persuade her not to commit this rash act. This is our desperate wish.”           Sung also said to his mother, “Our servants may be ignorant, but sometimes they speak the truth. I urge you to reconsider your decision.”           Kyesŏn stepped forth and intervened, “I may be young, but I have made a mature decision. It is unthinkable for me to have two husbands. A learned person would not say what you suggested, my brother. An old saying goes, ‘A righteous man loves others with virtue.’ To that end, people should treat even strangers with affection, and siblings must tend each other with utmost care and love. I lie prostrate and implore you. I desperately hope that you are not swayed by other people’s opinions and will allow me to carry out my wish.”           Caressing Kyesŏn’s back, her mother said, “I find Kyesŏn’s words righteous and I won’t reconsider my decision. Sung, prepare promptly for the trip to Kŭmnŭng and go with Kyesŏn.”           Sung acknowledged his mother’s command and retreated. Along with Aegyŏng and the other maids, he prepared for travel. When they were ready to depart, Kyesŏn bowed to her mother and bade her farewell, “I have been undutiful to you as a daughter. All these years I don’t recall even one time where I served you good food. Now I am about to leave you and will be unable to check on you every morning and evening for a long time. I have neglected my filial duty and caused you too much trouble. My failure in filial duty is the worst of sins! After I accompany the body of my husband to bury him in his hometown, I would like to devote the rest of my life to you. However, as my old mother-in-law has no other child except my husband, I am obliged to support her. Circumstances prevent me from performing both duties, and it frustrates me deeply.”           Her mother said, “You have already decided to become a member of the Song family and they have no other child except you, so I think you should take care of your mother-in-law. I am sure your sister and Sung will understand and not object to your supporting her.”           Kyesŏn wiped tears off her face and bade farewell to her mother. She held the hands of her older sister, Maesŏn, and said in tears, “I am a sinner who cannot be forgiven under the sky and above the land. I am ashamed that I am unable to support my own mother and do not dare raise my head to face anyone. I implore you to take good care of our mother. . . .”           Kyesŏn covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a surge of emotion and could not continue. She could only repeat, ‘take care’ and shed many tears as she bade farewell.           Accompanied by Sung, Aegyŏng, and the other maids, Kyesŏn traveled to Kŭmnŭng. She brought her husband’s body to his hometown and buried him in a lot on the left side of the Song family’s burial mounds. She wore garments of hemp and did her best to follow the tradition of mourning by living in a hut built beside the grave for the next three years. However, she also could not ignore Hyoyŏng’s mother. Holding back her emotions, she brought the spirit tablet of her husband to the house of the Song family and served her mother-in-law as if she were her own mother. She always showed a tender smile and spoke softly to hide her sadness when she was with her mother-in-law, though when she was all alone in her room, she put her head under the pillow and wept bitterly. Still in mourning, she grew haggard and her body thinned like a dried tree branch. Days passed but her emaciated body only grew thinner. It had been only few months since the funeral when she became too sick to rise. There seemed no hope of her recovery.           Hyoyŏng’s mother, Lady Yang, personally brought medicine to Kyesŏn and, sobbing, begged her to take it. Kyesŏn showed brief improvement, but a short time later she suffered insomnia and loss of appetite which lasted for many weeks. Time passed and the end of the period of mourning drew near, but Kyesŏn’s condition became steadily worse.           One day, Lady Yang, barely able to hold back her tears, said, “Old and unfortunate I am, I lost my only child. Having a daughter-in-law consoles me much but you have suffered greatly from mourning and I am now stricken with worry and grief. If misfortune befalls you, who can I rely on? I have also heard that your mother is especially fond of you. I don’t have many days left to live [, so don’t worry about me]. But please worry about your own mother!”           Kyesŏn struggled to raise her feeble body, bowed, and said on her knees, “It is all due to your grace that I am able to cling to my shattered life for so long. Despite my sorry fate in losing my husband too soon, I can breathe and lift my face between the sky and the earth with no shame. I have lived on in hope of serving you well, preparing delicious foods in the kitchen. At least then I would not completely fail my husband in the underworld. Please do not worry. Heeding your words, I hope I may strive to preserve my worthless life in any way I can.”           However, Kyesŏn’s illness was already dire. Even the madicine and skill of legendary physicians such as Yu Pu and P’yŏn Chak could not have cured her. One day, Kyesŏn summoned her servant Haedang to cut a large piece of white silk, and wrote a letter to her mother. Then, on another piece, she wrote a letter to her sister Maesŏn. The letters read, “Your unfilial daughter Kyesŏn respectfully writes to her mother. Your daughter, Kyesŏn, fated to misfortune throughout all three lives,11) lost a husband in early life and left you, my mother, far away. Far beyond the clouds is my home, a thousand li away. I shed bloody tears after living in a foreign land for three years. While your grace and virtue in raising me are as big as the sky, my sin in not taking care of you is as heavy and unfathomable as counting my hairs one by one. Looking up [toward heaven], I’m unfilial, and below [toward people], I am ashamed. Every night, I gaze toward where you are, but it is too far to reach. When there was an evening rain on sparse grasses, I envied several times the filial birds’ crying. Yuk Chŏk’s story of keeping yellow tangerines at his breast to give to his mother touched my heart to no avail.12) I subdued my own sorrow to take care of my old, gray-haired mother-in-law at home. How wretched my life was, yet I acted frivolously like a young child in a rainbow-striped garment to amuse her.       Unfortunately, I became ill and withered like firewood. Barely eating and with an uneasy mind, my face turned pale and my body thin. Like the morning dew, I have nothing to do but to wait for the day of my death. Unable to promise that I will care for you again, I don’t know how to repay your infinite virtue and grace. Yet, it is fortunate that Sister Maesŏn and Brother Sung attend you closely. My only wish is that you may live in peace with no dark thoughts about me. I bid farewell to you from this moment.         On a certain day of a certain month in a certain year, unfilial daughter Kyesŏn presents these words with respect.”“Your sister, Kyesŏn, presents a letter to her sister with a deep bow. Alas, since our parting, three years have passed, during which we have lived a thousand li apart. The Book of Poetry has it that ‘When a girl goes away [from her home], she is separated from her parents and siblings.’ Isn’t it truly so? With clouded mountains in the far distance, there was no way to send my words to you. Amidst the fast flow of time, how long can one life last? The sun is already approaching sunset,13) but I am abandoning the filial duty which the children of crows do to their mother.14) I climbed a steep cliff, but could reach no further. Contemplating a spray of dogwood, I thought about my siblings missing their distant sister. Listening to the cries of geese makes me envy their returning home. With her sorry fate, your sister has committed a sin bigger than the sky and earth. Above, I left my mother and below I lost my husband. Even so, for a long time I have preserved what life remains to me. Heaven’s punishment was severe, and my illness worsened day by day. Now, I can no longer anticipate having once more with my siblings the delight that Chŏn Chin’s brothers found under the thorn tree.15) Instead, I can only look forward, wishing for the promise of our gathering together forever in the underworld. My mother’s health is all I am concerned for. My brother and sister, I hope you can take good care of her and stay nearby. With this letter, I report my departure into death. Facing this letter, I have wailed, choking down sobs which prevent me from writing in further detail.         On a certain day of a certain month in a certain year, from your younger sister Kyesŏn with a deep bow.”            She sealed the letters in separate envelopes and gave them to Aegyŏng, saying, “My illness has advanced too far, I cannot hope to recover from it. Please deliver these letters to my mother and brother and sister.” Falling silent, she lay down facing the wall. Her breath was very weak and quickly fading. Ongmae and Haedang ran and informed Lady Yang.           Shocked, Lady Yang hurried to see Kyesŏn. She called to her but there was no response. Kyesŏn had already slipped away and there was nothing Lady Yang could do. Lady Yang instructed a servant to notify the Yu family of Kyesŏn’s death.           When the sad news reached her, Kyesŏn’s mother was grief-stricken. She pounded her bosom, wailing, “Now, my youngest daughter is also dead! How can I live without her?” She wept, and her sorrow was indescribable.           Later she summoned Sung and said, “Your sister was perhaps the most virtuous lady of all. Even I, an old woman, cannot approach her goodness. Why did heaven take away our Kyesŏn so quickly? I wish I could bury her with my own hands, but I fear my old, ailing body would prevent me. Please hurry and take care of her funeral.”           Obedient to his mother’s order, Sung left immediately and traveled day and night. Having arrived, he purchased the necessary supplies, arranged a funeral service in accordance with tradition, and buried Kyesŏn’s body to the left of Hyoyŏng’s grave. After the funeral, Sung decided to stay and sleep in a nearby house.           During the third watch of the night, a crescent moon rose and an autumn wind blew around the hut. Sung sighed deeply and, facing into the wind, broke into tears. Exhausted from his long journey and the mournful funeral service, Sung soon dozed off, leaning against a window. As he drowsed, he heard a murmur of voices. Soon, a woman in light makeup and mourning dress slowly approached from the distance. Following behind her was a man wearing a hat and mourning attire.           Sung stood up in shock and wonder, and looked at them carefully, recognizing Kyesŏn and Hyoyŏng standing on the stone front steps. Having quickly made his clothes neat and tidy, Sung walked outside to greet them, and welcomed the couple to the courtyard, forgetting, for the moment, that they were dead. He asked Hyoyŏng, “How have you been, Ŭngsi? I have been so sad after parting with my sister a while ago. It makes me so happy to see you tonight.”           Ŭngsi was Hyoyŏng’s style name. Hyoyŏng greeted him in return, saying, “I must have confused you. Even to a wise man, it is surprising to see a person who passed away meet a living person in the world. But don’t be alarmed. I am here with your sister to thank you for your kindness.”           Sung finally realized that Hyoyŏng was a ghost. Straightening his lapel, he said, “You needn’t say such words. Yes, there is distinction between life and death. But I doubt there is any difference between the worlds of the living and the dead, especially when it comes to close family.” Hyoyŏng said, “In Kŭmnŭng, I almost became a restless soul roaming the vale, but to my relief and gratitude, you collected my bones. After your sister passed away you looked after my old mother. I’m very much indebted to you for your kindness, but I don’t know how to return it. I must find a way to repay you someday.”           Sung said, “We are like brothers. I did what a brother would do. There is no need to thank or repay me. Besides, I did very little for you so I don’t deserve all your praise. I would rather recall the saying, ‘Brothers greatly sympathize with one another at difficult times of death and burial’ and ‘Brothers spare no effort to help during a crisis.’ So you are mistaken about me. I never expected your gratitude.”           Sung then took Hyoyŏng’s hands and led him into the room, asking Kyesŏn to follow. When they were all seated, Sung told his sister, “Your nanny is here. So are Ongmae and Haedang. Would you like to see them?”           She sadly said, “It would be nice to see their familiar faces but I am afraid that doing so would sadden me too much. However, since they are right here, I should see them. Please call them so that we can have a wonderful night together.”           Sung immediately summoned the three. Aegyŏng and the other two appeared and saw Kyesŏn standing in the room. They embraced her and wept, finally asking, “We thought you were dead. Where have you been? We have lived in such low spirits in the long time since we lost you.”           Kyesŏn shed tears and straightened the lapels of her clothes before she finally spoke, “Hapless I was, how could I exist other than being dead? I came here with my husband to see my brother. Hearing that you were all here, I wanted to see the old familiar faces, so I asked my brother to summon you.”           Sung turned to Haedang and asked, “Bring out wine and fruits. We are mysteriously reunited. Perhaps this is an opportunity to unburden ourselves.”           Haedang hurried to bring out three bottles of Tongjŏngch’un wine and one hundred mandarin oranges to furnish the table. Exchanging cups, they all enjoyed the wine and became drunk. As the bottles finally ran dry, the eastern sky gradually brightened. The cocks began to crow and dawn came. Hyoyŏng turned to Kyesŏn and spoke, “We have a long way to travel. We should leave now.” Kyesŏn wiped tears from her face and bade farewell, disappearing suddenly along with her husband.           In the morning, Sung hurried his feet back toward home. When he presented Kyesŏn’s letter to his mother, he told her about how he had met Hyoyŏng and Kyesŏn.           After reading the letter, his mother tearfully said, “The underworld is far away and we won’t see her again. It is some relief to know that, although buried in a foreign land, she was laid to rest in peace beside her husband. However it still hurts me that I was not by her deathbed or at her funeral. I will have to live with that regret until my own death.”           Prefect of Chŏlgang Ma Chin recorded the story of Kyesŏn and reported it to the court. Soon after, a royal edict arrived, ordering her grave to be honored with an official commendation and granting her the posthumous title of Chŏngnyŏl Puin (A Lady of Peace and Virtue). Translated by Sookja Cho An earlier version of this translation, which includes an introduction and more detailed annotations, appeared as “Yu Sorang chŏn,” Acta Koreana Vol. 21, No.2 (December 2018): 575-92.1)  Though the tale is set in Ming China (1368-1644), names and places are rendered in korean.2)  Ch’amjŏng: an official title referring to an administrative vice commissioner of a province or state councilor.3)  P’ojŏngsa: the Head of the Provincial Administration Commission.4)  “Receiving the Betrothal Gifts” is an essential part of the traditional Chinese wedding known as Six Ceremonies. 5)  The year of kyŏngt’ae (C. jingtai) seems to refer to the reign of Emperor Daizong (r. 1450–57).6)  Soul seat refers to the location where a spirit tablet for the dead is placed.7)  According to the Confucian ritual, one should keep a three-year mourning period after the funeral for one’s parents. During this mourning period, one should live in a grass hut built next to the grave and take care of it. Wine and meat, let alone sexual intercourse, are prohibited.8)  Namnyŏng seems to refer to a city in present-day Guangxi Province, bordering Vietnam. This remote area is often thought of as a place of exile.9)  Nine Plains refers to the underworld.10)  In folk culture, a blue bird is known as the messenger of happy news, here implying a wedding. “A red thread is not tied” means that a wedding is not yet determined.11)  Three lives refers to one’s past, present, and future lives which, according to Buddhism, operate based on the laws of cause and effect.12)  Yuk Chŏk was a scholar and official during the Three Kingdoms Period known for his filial piety.13)  In traditional korean literature, “setting sun” often represents aging parents, implying that not much time is left for children to serve their parents.14)  Crows are often cited as icons of filial children. 15) This sentence alludes to a harmonious relationship between siblings.

  by Anonymous

• 

  The Tale of Choe Cheok 2

  Finally, the sun rose. Choe left immediately for the coast, approached the Japanese vessel, and spoke in the Joseon tongue. “Last night, I heard the lines of a poem, and I could tell that the speaker was from Joseon. I, too, am from Joseon. It would bring me great pleasure to meet that speaker, since it is always heartening to meet someone from my own country while traveling abroad.”    Inside the boat, Ok-yeong had heard the sound of her husband’s flute the night before. It was not merely a melody of Joseon; she knew that melody well. Could it have been her husband? Wanting to test her hypothesis, she recited a poem that she wrote in the past. And now, she could hear Choe’s voice from outside. She jumped off from the boat and hurriedly ran down to the shore, almost tripping a little over her steps.    Choe and Ok-yeong met each other’s eyes and screamed in joy. They embraced each other enthusiastically, toppling over into the sand. They were still in shock, and not a single word had been said yet. When their tears ended, they began to shed blood tears, blurring their vision.    The sailors from both countries had gathered around them by now, watching the reunion. At first, they assumed that Ok-yeong and Choe were simply relatives or friends. However, they discovered that the two were husband and wife much later. They were all surprised and amazed, exclaiming, “How extraordinary it is! The heavens and spirits must have played a role in their reunion, for such a thing has never happened before.”    Choe asked about their parents, and Ok-yeong answered, “We were all together and fine until the Japanese drove us out of the mountain and out to the river. At sunset, I was forced onto a boat, and I lost them. After that, I couldn’t find a track of them any longer.”    The two looked at each other and wailed. The pair’s grief was so strong that the throng watching them also began to tear up.    Zhu You told Tonu that he wanted to bring Ok-yeong back with them and that he would pay six kilograms of white gold for her release.    At the offer, Tonu looked offended, informing Zhu, “Ok-yeong has been with me for four years. I’ve treated her as a blood brother because I appreciate her virtue and sincerity. Although I ate and slept next her, I never realized she was, in fact, a woman! I, too, saw the couple’s reunion just now with my own eyes, and I’m sure that even the heavens and spirits are touched by their love. Even if I were foolish, I’m not made of stone. How could I take anything for her ransom?”    And then, Tonu took out ten silver coins from his money pouch and presented them to Ok-yeong. He told her, “You’ve been with me for four years now, and it’s now time for us to part ways. I find myself sorrowed at this turn of events. You’ve overcome many challenges in your life, even jumping from the throes of death itself, and now, you’ve even been reunited with your husband! Your story is truly remarkable, and I’m certain that powers greater than us have participated in this remarkable story. If I were to be narrow-minded or selfish, the heavens would surely punish me. Farewell, Sau! Take care!”    Ok-yeong held out both of her hands to receive the gift from him and bowed to him in thanks. “It’s only because of your protection that I have managed to survive and reunite with my husband again. I will be forever indebted to you for your kindness and care. And of course, you are giving me this generous gift—how can I ever repay you?”    Choe also thanked Tonu again and again, and the couple finally returned to Choe’s boat, hands interlocked. Sailors from neighboring vessels lined up to see the couple, and the constant audience continued for days. Some of them offered gold, silver, or silk as presents, and Choe received all the visitors and gifts with appreciation.    When they finished traveling and returned to Zhu’s house, Zhu prepared a room for the pair, and the couple lived comfortably.    After finding Ok-yeong again, Choe lived happily.    However, he was still living in a faraway, foreign land without any of his extended family. He couldn’t stop thinking about his old father, and Choe was also heartbroken over his young son. Yet all he could do was pray that one day, they would be able to return to their country alive.    A year later, the couple had another son. The day before he was born, Jangryukbul reappeared in their dreams with a message, and when the baby was born, there was an identical birthmark on his back, like their first child’s. The couple believed that their first child Mong-seok had been reincarnated, and they gave this son the name Mong-seon.    As Mong-seon grew up, they tried to find him a generous and wise wife. Their neighbor, the Chens, had a daughter, Hongtao. Her father, Chen Weiqing, joined General Liu’s army before she turned two, going off to fight in Joseon. He never returned. Even more tragically, when she was young, Hongtao lost her mother. She was raised by her aunt here, and Hongtao was always sad that she never saw the face of her father and that he had been lost to a war on a foreign land. One day, she hoped to visit the country of his death and perform the proper ritual to honor her father. She thought about this matter day and night, but knew that as a woman, her dreams were impossible.    When she heard that Mong-seon was looking for a wife, she decided to bring up the matter with her aunt: “I would like to become a member of the Choe family. One day, I will travel to the land of Joseon.”    Her aunt was well aware of her niece’s wishes, and she immediately went to Choe and told him Hongtao’s whole story.    Choe and Ok-yeong were amazed and remarked, “It’s so rare to find a girl like her, and she means well, of course.” They finally took Hongtao into their family as their daughter-in-law.    The next year in 1619, Nurhachi attacked Liaoyang by consecutively invading villages and killing many Ming soldiers. Consequently, the emperor of Ming was enraged and intent on subjugating the enemy by raising a militia from all over China. In this militia was a colonel named Wu Shiying from Suzhou, who was serving under Major General Qiao Yiqi. He had, at one point, known Choe; he had heard about Choe’s talent and bravery from Yu Youwen, and so Wu asked Choe to serve as his secretary.    As Choe set off, Ok-yeong clasped his hands in hers, crying as she bid him farewell. “In my ill-fated life, I’ve already experienced much misfortune. However, with the help of the heavens, I have managed to survive, and now, we have reunited to live together again. Just as the broken string of a zither is reconnected or a mirror that has snapped in two is pieced together again, our broken ties have connected, and we’ve even been graced with a son to hold a memorial ceremony for us. We’ve shared over twenty years of happiness together, and I’m not afraid to die and relive the old days. I’ve always intended to part from this world before you did to reciprocate your kindness, but at this old age, we would unexpectedly be separated again.    “Liaoyang is a thousand miles away from here, and I know it wouldn’t be easy for you to come home alive. Thus, how can we even promise to meet again in the future? I’d rather end my insignificant life now, here, when we must be separated. This way, you won’t be burdened by your attachment with me, and I won’t suffer in my attachment to you every hour of the day.    “Farewell, my dear! This is the end for us!”    With those last words, Ok-yeong pulled out a sword and placed the point of her blade against her neck.    Choe took the sword away from her and tried to calm her down.    “Such trifling, barbaric intruders will never be a match for Great China! Now that the emperor’s army is going into battle together, we will be able to crush them all with the full brunt of our force. Of course, our separation will be difficult, but do not worry so much about it. When I succeed and return victorious, we will be able to celebrate together with drinks. Moreover, Mong-seon has grown up properly into a young man—he is more than capable of supporting you. Please, let me know that you are ready and take good care of yourself—I must be able to leave without worries.”    Finally, Choe was able to pack up and leave.    After passing through a hundred miles of enemy territory, the Ming army arrived at Liaoyang and found themselves camped side by side with the Joseon army in Niumaoling. However, they suffered a huge defeat because the Ming commander-in-chief had greatly underestimated the army of Later Jin. Nurhachi had killed all Ming soldiers; on the other hand, not even one of the Joseon soldiers had been killed despite being threatened and coaxed to surrender.    General Qiao was left with only about ten survivors in the Ming force. Together, they entered the Joseon camp, and the general implored the Joseon commander to give them Joseon uniforms. The Joseon commander-in-chief, Gang Hong-rip, wanted to let them have the uniforms and save their lives, but the fifth-ranked officer, Yi Min-hwan, was afraid of going against Nurhachi’s will and inviting trouble for them all. Therefore, Yi confiscated the uniforms and imprisoned the Ming survivors, sending them to the enemy’s camp. However, because Choe was originally from Joseon, he was able to sneak into the Joseon army in the middle of all the chaos and save his own life. Unfortunately, Gang later surrendered to the Later Jin Dynasty as well, and Choe became a prisoner of the Later Jin army, along with Joseon soldiers.    As this was happening, Choe’s first child, Mong-seok, had been recruited as a lower-rank officer from Namwon, serving under Gang. Nurhachi kept the surrendered Joseon soldiers separate from the rest of the prisoners, but eventually, Choe and Mong-seok were confined together in the same space. Nevertheless, even as they stared directly at each other, father and son did not recognize each other.    Mong-seok was suspicious of this other man because Choe did not sound like a native from Joseon, and Mong-seok believed that Choe was really a Ming soldier pretending to be a Joseon native to save himself. Mong-seok was suspicious of his father and asked him where he lived.    Choe thought that Mong-seok might have been an enemy spy from Later Jin, so he lied, making up stories to his questions. Sometimes, Choe would claim that he was from Jeolla-do; other times, from Chungcheong-do.Having these responses, Mong-seok thought the man was strange, but still had no idea who Choe was. After several days together in confinement, the two slowly grew closer. They began to care for each other, understanding that both were in pitiful situations, and they were no longer suspicious of each other. Choe told Mong-seok the truth about his life. As Mong-seok heard the story, something inside of him shifted, his face turned pale, and he began to suspect the truth. Still in disbelief and confusion, Mong-seok asked Choe how old his deceased son was and if there was anything distinctive on his son’s body.    Choe explained, “My son was born in October 1594, and he died in August 1597. He had a red birthmark on his back that was the size of a baby’s palm.”    Mong-seok was surprised to hear this and couldn’t keep talking. He then stripped off his shirt and gestured to his back.    “I am your son!”    In a moment of clarity, Choe finally realized that the young man standing in front of him was his own son. The two men asked about each other’s parents. Then, for a long while, they just sat there and held each other through their tears. The two passed many days in this way, alternating between talking and crying.    An elderly enemy soldier often patrolled past father and son. It seemed like the old soldier understood what Choe and his son were talking about and showed the faintest flashes of pity in his eyes. One day, while all of the other guards were out, the old man crept into Choe’s room. Speaking in the Joseon tongue, he remarked, “I’ve noticed that both of you have been crying a lot these last few days—you both seem different from how you were when you were first captured. What happened? I’d like to hear your story.”    Neither the two Choes trusted the soldier, and none made a move to tell him the truth. Then, the old man added, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m originally from Sakju,where my family suffered under the heavy taxes imposed by the village. Ten years ago, we escaped here to live in this barbarian’s land. But the people here are honest, and their taxes do not crush us. Since life is evanescent, like dew drops, why should we live and suffer under the oppression of government officials?    “Nurhachi has assigned me eighty elite soldiers here to guard the Joseon soldiers. However, I’ve now heard your story, and it’s really extraordinary. Even though I will be reprimanded for letting you escape, I could not, in good conscience, continue to keep you here.”    The next day, the old man gave them some rations, told his own son to share with them a shortcut back to their home, and let them escape.    Choe Cheok finally returned to his motherland, alive and with his son. This was his first trip back home in twenty years. Choe’s desire to return home and see his own father was so strong that he managed to cover twice the ground that one typically could in a single day, rapidly traveling south. He traveled so quickly, without concern for his own health, that he eventually developed a big abscess on his back. In his haste, however, Choe did not seek medical treatment, pushing onwards. The symptoms only worsened as the pair traveled on. When they reached Eunjin and the inn, he was in critical condition.    Mong-seok was extremely worried, anxiously running around, trying to find some way to help his father, but he had no way of obtaining acupuncture needles or medicine.    Fortuitously, Choe and Mong-seok had met a Chinese man also escaping to Yeongnam. He was coming from Honam. When the man saw Choe, he exclaimed, in shock, “You’re lucky we met on this day! Even one day later and no kind of treatment would’ve saved you!”    The Chinese man took out a needle from his pouch and broke the abscess. Choe went on to recover almost immediately.    Two days later, Choe was walking into his hometown again with a cane. The whole family was surprised—they thought that the figure who walked into the village that day was a ghost. Choe and his own father were unable to believe that the other was not merely a fantasy. The two of them hung onto each other and cried until sunset.    In the years after Lady Shim lost her daughter, she never fully recovered. Her grief had turned her absentminded, and she relied almost entirely on Mong-seok to take care of her. When Mong-seok had not returned from war and was presumed dead, she became bedridden, unwilling to move or rise from bed.    When she saw Mong-seok walk back into town with his father and heard the news that Ok-yeong was also still alive, she let out a cry of sheer anguish and happiness—she herself didn’t seem to know if she was upset or happy. Mong-seok was greatly thankful to the Chinese man who had saved his father’s life back in their travels. Mong-seok invited the man to their house in his effort to find some way to repay him for saving his father.    Choe asked, “You seem Chinese. May I know your name and hometown?”    The Chinese man answered, “My family name is Chen and my given name is Weiqing. I live in Hangzhou, within Yongjin Gate. In 1597, I enlisted in Admiral Liu Ting’s camp and came to Suncheon. One day, while I was scouting the enemy’s location, I somehow managed to anger the general—I found myself being brought up on charges of martial law. I ran away under the cover of darkness, and have been a refugee ever since.”    Choe was surprised to hear that and asked, “Do you have parents, a spouse, or children at home?”    Chen replied, “I did leave a wife behind, as well as my daughter—she was only two months old when I escaped to Joseon.”    Choe asked again, “May I ask—what is your daughter’s name?”    Chen said, “On the day my daughter was born, a neighbor brought over peaches as a gift. Thus, I named her Hongtao.”    Choe threw up his hands in shock. “These are truly unbelievable circumstances! They truly are! I lived next door to your family in Hangzhou. When your wife passed away in September 1611, Hongtao moved to the house of her uncle, Wu Fenglin, which is where she grew up. Later, she married my son and is now my daughter-in-law. And look here, today! I have met her father!”    Chen was very surprised at this revelation. At first, he was silent, and then, he fell into a state of melancholy. After a while, he spoke, his voice heavy with thought. “In Daegu, I was staying with a kind soul named Pak, and I met an old woman there. She taught me the art of acupuncture, and I’ve been making my living from it for some time now. Hearing your story, I feel like I’m home and with family here. If you permit it, I’d like to rent a room and stay here, with you.”    Mong-seok stood and said, “You saved my father’s life! Moreover, your daughter lives with my mother and brother. You are family—what more is there to be said?”    With that, Mong-seok immediately led Chen to an empty room in Choe’s house and let him stay there.    Mong-seok still worried day and night. Now that he knew, with certainty, that his mother was alive, he was determined to bring her back home. However, there was no safe way for him to find her, much less bring her back, and he could do nothing but shed tears.    In Hangzhou, Ok-yeong had heard the news that Ming’s frontline troops had been annihilated. She was certain that Choe died on the battlefield, and she was inconsolable, crying day and night. She prepared to die, fasting and not having even a single drop of water.    One night, Jangryukbul appeared in another dream, stroking her head, and said, “Do not die! There is much happiness in your future.”    She woke up from her dreams and told Mong-seon, “When I tried to drown myself the day I was taken by the Japanese soldiers, Jangryukbul of Namwon Manboksa Temple showed up in my dreams and instructed, ‘Do not die! There is much happiness in your future.’ Four years later, I met your father again on the shores of Annam.    “Now, as I try to kill myself, I’ve had those dreams again. Could your father possibly still be alive? If he’s alive, I have nothing to wish or regret in my life anymore.” Mong-seon said, crying, “I’ve heard that Nurhachi killed all of the Chinese soldiers but let the Joseon soldiers live. Since Father is originally from Joseon, there’s still a chance he could be alive, right? How could the dreams of Jangryukbul give us false signs? Please, Mother, continue to stay strong. Father will return.”     Ok-yeong changed her mind and said, “It’s really only a four- or five-day walk from Nurhachi’s camp to the Joseon border. Even if your father had survived, he would’ve run away toward Joseon. It’s a thousand dangerous and difficult miles back to us.    “I must return to my homeland to look for him. If he has passed away, I have a duty to personally go to Changju. At the very least, I must comfort your father’s spirit and bury him properly in the family’s graveyard. Moreover, just as southern birds build a nest in the south and horses from the north still cry towards their northern homes, my desire to return to my home has only increased as the years have gone by and as I take steps and steps closer to death. In this life, I have lost my father-in-law, mother, and little son to these wars; I do not even know if they are dead or alive.    “Some time ago, I heard from a Japanese merchant that the captured Joseon prisoners have slowly been released to return to their homes. If this is true, isn’t there even the smallest chance that my lost family is in Joseon?    “If your father and grandfather have all died in a faraway land, who will take care of your ancestors’ graves? And of course, not all of our relatives have been lost to the war. If we could even meet one of them, wouldn’t that be a fortunate thing?    “Go, borrow a boat and prepare food for our journey. Joseon is only one or two thousand miles away from here across the water. If we have favorable winds and the heavens wills it, we could arrive on those shores in ten days on a ship! I’m determined now!”    Mong-seon was crying and appealed to her, “Mother, what could you possibly mean by all that? Yes, I want nothing more than to arrive in Joseon, but how could we possibly cross a million miles in a mere sailboat? We would cross winds, waves, sharks, and crocodiles! Pirate ships or patrols would stop us before we even began. What good would we be to my dead father and our relatives if we become fodder for sea creatures? Even though I’m foolish, I have to object to your grand plan.”    Hongtao, who was standing beside her husband, interjected, “Don’t oppose your mother’s will! Her plans are driven by genuine intent and desire, and this isn’t a time to discuss possible difficulties. Even if we lived in a perfectly safe place, would there be any guarantee to avoid flood, fire, or thieves?”    Ok-yeong spoke up again. “Yes, there would be a lot of trouble in a water route, but I’ve had many experiences. When I lived in Japan, I called a ship my home. We would do business in Fujian and Guangdong Province in spring and then in Ryukyu Kingdom in autumn. I’m used to predicting the tides during the day and reading the stars at night; I’ve found my way through rough winds pushed through storming waves. I’m more than capable of dealing with the rough ocean waters, and also have strength to overcome all kinds of peril. If we experience unforeseen difficulties, we will certainly be able to find our way through it.”    Ok-yeong immediately began making clothes in the fashion of two countries, Joseon and Japan, and she taught Mong-seon and Hongtao the languages of both countries every day.    And then, she instructed Mong-seon. “Sailing is all about relying on the mast and oars; therefore, you must make sure that both are in good condition as you prepare to sail. Another crucial tool is your compass. Soon, I’ll select a good day for us to set sail, and you’ll need to remember all of these things.”    Mong-seon silently withdrew from the conversation with an anxious face and told Hongtao, blaming it on her, “In this plan of hers, she is planning on dying ten thousand times over. Even if Mother managed to survive this journey, this wouldn’t bring my dead father back to life! Danger is a part of every part of this plan—how could you possibly agree to support her? How could you be so mindless?”    Hongtao answered, “Mother has become consumed by her mission in this plan—neither you nor I could stop her now. It’s better to help her now than to regret not doing so later.    “As for how I feel, what more could I tell you about my personal feelings? My father died on the battlefield when I was only two months old. His ashes are probably scattered helplessly in a foreign land, and his spirit entangled itself with the wild weeds of the land. What kind of daughter and human would I be if I gave up a chance to come even one day closer to him?    “Lately, people have been saying a number of Chinese refugees survived the war and are staying in Joseon. As his daughter, I hope that my father is one of them. If I can arrive in Joseon with your help and comfort his spirit even a little, a spirit that is condemned to wander the battlefield, I wouldn’t regret anything, even if they were my last acts on earth.”    With this impassioned proclamation, Hongtao burst into tears.    Mong-seon finally realized the futility of his actions; he couldn’t oppose both his mother and wife. Resigned, he readied himself for the trip, organizing their packs.    The ship left China on February 1, 1620.    Ok-yeong instructed Mong-seon, “Joseon is located southeast of where we are now; therefore, we should wait for a northwest wind to take us. Sit over there with the oars, and wait for my instructions.”    She hung a feather on top of the mast and placed the compass on the bow of the ship. That done, she began inspecting every inch of the ship expertly, ensuring that nothing was missing.    Quite soon, the feather perched on the mast was steadily pointing toward the southeast. Blowfish were jumping up and down, dancing around in the sea.    All three of them gathered their strength and pulled hard on the mast. The ship lurched out of port into the sea, flying as straight and true as an arrow. The three of them passed through Dengzhou and Laizhou in a flash both by day and night, propelled as if lightning inspired the waves and thunder awakened the seas, pushing the traveling band forward. In almost no time, they managed to pass Qingzhou and Qizhou as well. As they looked out over the horizon, they noticed small islands bobbing distantly in the sea. In the next glance, however, those same dots would be gone, already far, far behind them.    One day, they ran into a patrolling Ming force. A soldier on the craft called out, “State your identity and your business!”    In Chinese, Ok-yeong replied back, “We’re from Hangzhou and on our way to Shandong to sell tea.”The patrol just turned around.The next day, a Japanese ship came up to them and stopped them. Ok-yeong immediately changed into Japanese clothes.    A Japanese crewman asked, “Where are you coming from?”    Ready for them, Ok-yeong answered in Japanese, “We were here fishing, but unfortunately got swept away by the wind. We’ve been blown adrift and lost our ship. We managed to borrow a ship from Hangzhou, and are on our way back.”    The crewman remarked, “I can see that you’ve led hard lives and suffered. As a note of caution, the return route differs a little from the one you’re headed now—you’ll want to veer south.”    That night, the waves seemed to collide with the sky above. The winds were gusting hard from the south, and it was impossible to see out for more than an inch; they were completely surrounded with clouds and fog. Soon, the mast broke and the sail ripped, and they were completely lost. Mong-seon and Hongtao were terrified and seasick, quietly lying facedown on their bellies. Ok-yeong quietly sat by herself, praying to both the heavens and to Buddha.    Over the course of the evening, the winds and waves eventually quieted, and the three managed to bring the ship ashore to a small island and repaired the storm damage. They spent several days on the island. One day, however, they saw a distant ship on the horizon grow larger and larger. Ok-yeong told Mong-seon to hide the supplies and equipment from their ship inside a rock cave.    Soon, the people on the ship came ashore, shouting boisterously. Their language and attire were neither of Joseon nor of Japan; if they had to be placed, they seemed Chinese. Though the only weapon they held was a white stick, they used it to beat Ok-yeong and the others, demanding everything that they had.    In Chinese, Ok-yeong pleaded, “I’m Chinese! I was fishing when I was carried over to this island; I honestly have nothing more than what you see here right now!”    She begged them to let her family go, crying as she pleaded.    In the end, the men didn’t kill anyone. However, the group did take the ship, securing it to the back of their own as they left.    Ok-yeong said, “They must be pirates. I’ve heard that they often appear on this route, between China and Joseon. They’re known for their looting, but not for murder; those must’ve been pirates.    “This is truly all my fault; I forced you to come on this journey with me, and I didn’t listen to a word of your concerns—this, now, must be the heaven’s punishment. What are we going to do now? We’ve lost the boat! Since we cannot fly over the sea in the sky, set float in a raft, or ride on bamboo leaves, all we have now is death. I’m not worried about myself—I’ve lived long enough—but I cannot stand the thought of you dying, too, because of me!”    Ok-yeong held her son and daughter-in-law tightly. Her cries shook the rock cliffs of the island; her regrets were folded into the layers of crashing waves. The god of the seas seemed resigned, shrugging his giant body; the mountain goblins frowned and moaned.    In her grief, Ok-yeong decided to scale up the cliff and fling her body down into the sea. Mong-seon and Hongtao restrained her, holding her back, so she couldn’t jump off.    Frustrated and desperate, Ok-yeong asked her son, “What good could keeping me from my death possibly serve now, when I truly want to die? We only have enough provisions left for three days for all three of us. What kind of way would it be to die, to simply sit here and wait for ourselves to starve?”    Mong-seon shot back, “If we die after all the food is gone, then we’ll die. In the meantime, we need to focus on finding a way to live—but if you’re already dead, it would be too late to regret to have found a way to live.”    Together, the couple helped her down from the precipice, and they spent the night in the rock cave.    At dawn, Ok-yeong told her son and daughter-in-law, “At the height of my exhaustion and delirium last night, Jangryukbul showed up again and reminded me of what he said before. It’s truly an unusual thing.”    The three of them sat next to each other and prayed to Buddha together. “Buddha, Buddha! Please look after us, please look after us!”    Two days later, a sailboat suddenly appeared from the distance in the sea. Mong-seon was startled by the sighting and told Ok-yeong the news at once. He said, “I’ve never seen that kind of ship before—what kind of trouble will we have to endure this time?”    Ok-yeong, on the other hand, saw the sailboat and was pleased, exclaiming, “We’re saved! That’s a ship from Joseon.”    Accordingly, she changed into the Joseon attire and instructed Mong-seon to go up to the cliff and wave clothes in the air to catch the ship’s attention. The sailors came ashore. As they lowered their sails, they asked, “Who are you people, living on such an isolated island?”    Ok-yeong answered in the Joseon language. “We’re originally a family of scholars from Seoul. We were on our way to Naju, but got caught in a storm. Our ship overturned, and we’re the only three survivors. All the others have died, and we drifted here. We were on the verge of death the entire time, and survived only by clinging onto a mast.”    The sailors took in their pitiful expressions and decided to help them. They set the anchor down and allowed Ok- yeong, Mong-seon, and Hongtao to come aboard. As they came aboard, the sailors explained, “We are naval forces. We cannot alter our route and destination on our own; we must finish our mission as we have been instructed, so we cannot return you directly to your village.”    Finally, in April 20, 1620, the boat docked in Suncheon, and the three were let off.    Ok-yeong led her son and daughter-in-law again. For six solid days, they climbed mountains and crossed rivers. Eventually, they made their way back to Namwon.    Of course, Ok-yeong still thought that her entire family was dead; all she wanted to do was see where they used to live. First, she brought Mong-seon and Hongtao to Manboksa Temple. Then, they went to Geumseok Bridge, where they surveyed the castle and the village—everything looked just as it had before.    At this point, Ok-yeong turned back to Mong-seok, pointing at a house. Through her tears, she told him, “That’s the house where your father and I used to live. I wonder who lives there now. Let’s stop there now and ask to stay for the evening. From there, we can begin planning for the future.”    The band of three travelers arrived outside the gate of the house. From outside of the gate, Ok-yeong thought she saw Choe under the willow tree with a guest. She approached closer and took another look. Wasn’t that her husband? At the same time, she and her son burst into tears.    By this point, Choe had finally realized that it was his wife and son at the gate, and he cried out loudly, announcing, “Mong-seok’s mother has come! Could this possibly be real, or am I just dreaming? Is it merely a ghost standing in front of me, or could it truly be a human?”    From inside the house, Mong-seok heard this news and sprinted out barefoot, tripping over himself with each step. Mother and son reunited, just as one would expect, and such a scene requires no more explanation.    Together, the pair entered the room. Lady Shim was still in her sickbed, and was shocked and surprised that her daughter had come back from the dead. Lady Shim’s face flushed pale at the shock, looking like that of a dead person. Ok-yeong immediately rushed to her mother’s side and held her. Slowly, Lady Shim breathed again. Soon, her condition improved.    Choe called out to Chen Weiqing and announced, “Your daughter has come as well!”    For Hongtao, Choe let her tell the tale of her trials that had finally led her back to her long-lost father.    The entire family was crying in happiness, arms wrapped around one another, and their cries echoed across the village. At first, the neighbors were not pleased at the commotion and odd sounds, because as all the family members cried out, holding their son and daughter, the sound of it spread outward from their house. However, once the miraculous story of Ok-yeong and Hongtao had been told to villagers, they were all slapping their knees in respect and amusement. The entire village was caught up in the contagious happiness, and the stories spread all around.    Later, Ok-yeong told her husband, “All of this is, indeed, by the grace of Jangryukbul. I have heard that the golden statue of Jangryukbul was damaged along with the temple; right now, people have no place to pray. The spirits of the heavens have saved us, and I feel we must find a way to repay that debt in our lives.”    Accordingly, they prepared a large and abundant offering to the Buddha and cleansed themselves thoroughly. Then they traveled to the temple and prayed to the Buddha.    And for the rest of time, Choe and Ok-yeong supported their parents, led their sons and daughters-in-law well, and lived happily ever after at their old house outside the West Gate. — Ah! Father and son, husband and wife, father-in-law and mother-in-law, and brothers. Separated across four countries, this family was apart and pined for each other for over thirty years. They had to survive in the enemy’s land and faced perilous situations. But finally, they were reunited as a family, living in perfect harmony.    How could this be a mere mortal’s work? Certainly, the heavens and earth must have been moved by their great heart and effort and fulfilled their wishes—especially in such an extraordinary manner! Even the heavens could not resist a woman’s devotion; therefore, it is that earnestness that cannot be judged or denied!    I, the author, lived for a short while in Jupo, Namwon. Choe Cheok came to me and told me the stories that you have read above. He asked me to record everything, for he was afraid of having such an extraordinary story lost. I could not refuse, and the stories you see above are from my own recollections of The Tale of Choe Cheok, amazing and miraculous that they are. Soong February of the Leap Year 1621  [1] A Manchu state in northern China; it later became the Qing Dynasty.[2] A village in Pyeonganbuk-do province in Joseon.[3] The name means “red peach” in Chinese.[4] Present-day Okinawa Prefecture in Japan. KOREAN CLASSIC STORIES Vol. 3(Seoul Selection, 2013)Ed. Lee Jin-hyuk and Kim HansolTrans. Ally Hwang Copyright © 2013 Seoul Selection Reprinted with permission from Seoul Selection  

  by Jo Wihan

• 

  The Tale of Choe Cheok 1

  Choe Cheok, who went by the name Baekseung in his youth, was born in Namwon. He lost his mother early in life and lived only with his father, Suk, outside of the West Gate on the east side of Manboksa Temple. Even from a young age, he was known for aiming high, being friendly, and taking promises seriously; he was also unconcerned with trifling manners.      One day, his father lectured him.      “You don’t study at all, and you spend your time acting like a hooligan! What are you going to grow up and become? And now that our country is at war, every village is recruiting warriors, but all you do all day is hunt and worry your old father. This is pitiful!      “If you really put your mind to it and begin seriously reading and studying for the state examinations, you’d be able to avoid the battlefields, even if you didn’t pass the examinations. Here, I have an old friend from my youth, Saengwon Jeong.1 He lives south of the castle, and I know he studies diligently and writes well. He is a suitable teacher for those who have just started their studies; go to him and learn.”      From that day on, Choe Cheok lived beside his books and went to Saengwon Jeong and requested lessons. He studied hard, without pausing for breaks. After several months, his skills had improved dramatically. He wrote with the intensity of a burst riverbank, and soon, all of the villagers admired his intelligence.      When he would study at Saengwon Jeong’s house, there was a girl about seventeen or eighteen years old, with eyes as pretty as a painting’s and pitch-black hair. She would hide beside the window and listen quietly to Choe’s voice.      One day, when Saengwon Jeong was still in the middle of eating breakfast, Choe found himself alone, reading a book. Then suddenly, a note fell down through the crack in the window, and he picked up the note. On it was a poem about a young, unmarried maiden searching for her other half. They were from the last chapter of “Biao You Mei” in the Book of Songs.2      He felt as if his heart and soul were fluttering in the air. He couldn’t calm down. He drifted into a daydream, imagining himself sneaking into her room late at night and imitating the old Chinese love story “A Story of Bu Feiyan.” Almost instantly, however, he realized what he was thinking and repented, warning himself with the story of Kim Tae-hyeon3 from the Goryeo Dynasty. And while Choe was quietly contemplating, morality and desire were quarreling in his heart.      Saengwon Jeong suddenly entered into the room, and Choe hid the poem in his sleeve.      After his lesson, he left the room. A female servant followed him out, stopping at the gate. She told him, “I have a message for you.”      His heart was already alert because of the lines of the poem, and the servant’s words only intrigued him more. He told her he understood and asked her to follow him. Choe brought her to his house and asked her to explain the entire situation.      The servant began, “I am Chun-saeng, a servant of Lady Yi’s. She asked me to bring her back a reply to her poem, sir.”      Choe was puzzled and asked, “Aren’t you a servant from Saengwon Jeong’s house? Why is she called Lady Yi, instead of Lady Jeong?”      Chun-saeng explained, “My master’s house was originally in Cheongpa-ri, outside Sungnye Gate in Seoul. Sadly, my master, Mr. Yi Gyeong-shin, passed away some years ago, and then it was just Madam Shim4 and her daughter living together. Their daughter’s name is Ok- yeong, and it was she who threw that note earlier today. Last year, Madam Shim and her daughter moved from Ganghwa Island to Hoejin, in Naju, in a boat to avoid the war, and this autumn, they moved again from Hoejin to here. Saengwon Jeong, the master of this house, is a relative of Madam Shim’s, and he has taken us in and treated us well. They are seeking a husband for Lady Yi, but it has been difficult to find her a suitable bridegroom.” Choe said, “Your lady grew up with a widowed mother. How is she literate? Has she simply known how to read since she was young?”      “My lady had a brother, Deuk-yeong, and he was intelligent. He passed away before he was to be married at age nineteen. She picked up a little writing from him, so she’s able to write her name and not much more.”      Choe offered Chun-saeng food and drink while taking out a fresh sheet of paper and composing the following letter:      The letter I received from you this morning truly captured my heart. I can hardly contain my happiness; it is as if I have met a bird delivering good news from a land of fairies. Just as a bird that lost its partner weeps over its own appearance in a mirror, or as a husband who dearly misses his widowed wife looks at her portrait painting, I, too, have been longing and desperate to meet my other half.      As Sima Xiangru did in the State of Han a long, long time ago, playing the zither to seduce Zhuo Wenjun, and as Jia Wu in the State of Qin did, secretly giving away her father’s precious incense, bestowed to him by the king, to her lover Han Shou, I understand that a man and woman may personally meet and connect. However, meeting you seems as difficult as going over the many peaks of Mt. Bongnaesan, which is home to the hermits, and crossing over their rough streams. But just now, as I was thinking of even the possibility that I may meet you, my face paled, and my neck grew thin in determination.      And now, just as King Huai of Chu met a goddess in his daydream, a letter of yours was delivered to me by a fairy. If parties from both families are able to establish an agreeable relationship, the two of us could become intertwined by Wolha Noin’s thread,5 fulfill our three wishes6 and keep our wedding vows      I cannot possibly express in words all that I feel about you, and even if I found every word, how could I use those to tell you how much I truly feel?       Respectfully,     Choe Cheok      Ok-yeong was delighted to receive his letter. The very next day, she sent a reply through Chun-saeng:        I was born and raised in Seoul. Before I could master the manners of a lady, my father unfortunately passed away. Additionally, a war broke out, and my mother and I were forced to wander the south in retreat; now, we have finally settled in the house of our relative, relying on his generosity to survive.      I am fifteen years old and have yet to marry. Therefore, I am constantly worrying about assaults, either from the infestation of bandits in this time of war or from some vicious person intent on disgracing me. For these reasons, my mother is also always very concerned and distressed.      However, I am more concerned with finding a good husband. Since a hundred years of both happiness and hardship will depend on my husband, how can I begin to respect and rely on him if he is not a good man?      According to what I have seen of you recently, you seem gentle, with leisurely, graceful manners, and your face glows with sincerity and faithfulness. Therefore, if I am to find a good husband, where else could I look but to you? In truth, I would rather be your mistress than become someone else’s wife. As the situation goes like that, I wonder if my ill-fated, unlucky destiny would let me fulfill my wish.      My poem to you yesterday was never intended to be lustful. I only wanted to find out for myself how you thought of me. Even though I am unworthy, I am also not a woman selling my body on the street; how would I ever commit an illicit liaison? We should certainly inform our parents of our intentions to become officially wed. If that happens, I promise my chastity and truthfulness to you, and I will respect my husband with all my devotion.      I have already committed a disgraceful action by delivering my poem to you personally, and I have compounded my bad act by asking you to marry me. Even worse, I have exchanged letters with you, and in doing so, I have even lost my secret chastity as a woman. In these letters, we have both laid out the innermost desire of our hearts. Therefore, I believe that we should keep our letters secret. For now, you should discuss the possibility of our union through the old matchmaking woman. I would be grateful if you handled this, for I wish to avoid my being ridiculed for unchastely fooling around with a man.   Choe Cheok was boundlessly pleased and brought up the matter with his father. “Apparently, there is a widowed lady from Seoul staying at Saengwon Jeong’s house, and I have heard that she has a young, beautiful daughter. Would you ask Saengwon Jeong about her, since it is the fastest walker that gets the prize?”      His father replied, “The family is originally from noble background. Now, they must rely on their relative, and they are stranded far away from their home and wealth. They must be looking for a son-in-law from a rich family, not one from a family like ours, which has always been poor. I doubt they would approve of this wedding.”      Choe kept prodding his father and told him. “Would you go and ask, at least? After all, it’s truly up to the will of the heavens to determine whether or not I will succeed, right?”      The next day, his father went to Saengwon Jeong’s house and brought up the matter of marriage.      Saengwon Jeong replied, “It’s true that my maternal cousin evacuated from Seoul and wandered from place to place before seeking shelter at my house. She does have a daughter who is both exceptional in appearance and behavior, and I’ve been trying to find her a suitable match to support her family. I’m well aware that your son is talented, and he would be a good son-in-law; I know he wouldn’t fail us in our expectations. However—and I’m a little hesitant to speak on this matter—your family is not as well off as she would expect. I will discuss it with my cousin, and we will revisit this matter later.”      Choe’s father came back and relayed the news to his son. Choe spent days in anguish, anxiously awaiting news.      When Saengwon Jeong brought up the marriage proposal to Lady Shim, she was immediately opposed. “I’ve been forced to leave my home alone, and have wandered without anybody to rely on, so I’d like her to marry into a wealthy family; no matter how smart this boy is, I will not accept him if he’s poor.”      Later that evening, Ok-yeong desperately wanted to talk to her mother, but she hesitated and couldn’t bring herself to raise the matter.      Her mother asked her, “Is there anything in your heart you’d like to share with me?”      Ok-yeong felt the blush creep up her face, and hesitantly, she decided to tell her mother how she truly felt. “Mother, I’m so grateful for your love and hope for me that you want to find me a young bridegroom from a rich family. It would be wonderful if I could find such a man, one who is both wealthy and intelligent. However, if my future husband was only rich and not smart, he would struggle to keep up the family business. If I marry an immoral person, I wouldn’t even be able to bring myself to eat the rice in our house.      “I’ve had the opportunity to privately observe Mr. Choe when he comes to study with Uncle every day. He is sincere, courteous, caring, and trustworthy, and I’ve never seen him be frivolous or reckless. If I marry him, I’d never regret my decision for as long as I live! Besides, the way of the scholar is marked by poverty. I don’t want only a rich life, one that is without righteousness. Please, Mother, support me and help me marry him. I know it’s not really my place to stand up to you and speak my mind so freely, but this is a matter that will affect my life—I can’t stay silent and passive! What if I hold my tongue and eventually get married to a tomfool of a man, somebody who would ruin my entire life? A broken earthenware steamer can never be made whole again, and a thread, once dyed, can never be white again. After that decision is made, no measure of regret could change anything.      “Moreover, my position is unusual. Unlike other people, I have no stern, protective father at home, and there are thieves everywhere. If my husband isn’t sincere and trustworthy, how can we rely on him to protect us? Therefore, on the matter of my marriage, I cannot simply follow somebody else’s lead. I cannot stay silent and hide in the women’s chamber—such a move would only harm me and lead me into trouble.”      Ok-yeong’s mother couldn’t help it and told Saengwon Jeong so the next day. “I thought about it again very carefully last night, and though Mr. Choe is poor, he seems to be a very fine person and scholar. Since a person’s wealth is up to the will of the heavens, and we as humans cannot change our status, I think it only proper to welcome him as a son-in-law, instead of taking a chance with some man whose disposition isn’t known.”      Saengwon Jeong responded, “If you’re willing and sure, I will certainly arrange this match. Though Mr. Choe is poor, his nature is like that of jade. Even in Seoul, it’s rare to find a person with his qualities. With the proper opportunity, I know that he will succeed.”      That very day, Saengwon Jeong sent for the matchmaker woman, and they arranged the engagement and set the wedding for the 15th of September. Choe Cheok was extremely delighted at the news, and he counted the days until his marriage every day with his fingers.      Sometime later, Byeon Sa-jeong, who had been serving as a ninth-rank government officer in Namwon, raised an army of volunteer soldiers and was preparing to go to fight in the Yeongnam region. When he learned that Choe was skilled in archery and horsemanship, Byeon decided to take him in his army.      On the battlefield, Choe was worried the whole time, and he ultimately worried himself sick. As his wedding date approached, he resolved to write to the leader of the army to request a few days off.      The leader was offended at the request, asking indignantly, “What do you mean, you’re planning on getting married in times like these? The king is fleeing from our enemies and sleeping on the grass, so it should be right to say his subjects don't even have the time to rest by laying their heads against their swords. Moreover, you are still too young for marriage. It wouldn’t be too late to get married after we have annihilated the enemy.”      And with that, he denied Choe’s request.      Because her fiancé had been forced to join the army and could not return home for his wedding, Ok-yeong was also worrying herself to death about him, and she was unable to eat or sleep well.      In town, there lived a Mr. Yang who was very rich. He had heard that Ok-yeong was smart, and heard of the rumor about Choe: that her fiancé was not coming back. Mr. Yang was looking to seize this opportunity in Choe’s absence; he wanted to arrange a match between Ok-yeong and his son.      Mr. Yang decided to bribe Saengwon Jeong’s wife to whisper in Lady Shim’s ear, and so she did, telling Lady Shim, “You know, Choe Cheok is so poor that they must spend their mornings worrying about where dinner for that evening is going to come from. He is struggling to support his father and is already so much in debt; how is he going to support a whole family of his own? Besides, he has charged off to battle, and there’s no promise that he’ll even come back alive.      “On the other hand, our neighbor, Mr. Yang, is well known for his wealth, and he holds a considerable amount of property. His son is a generous person—just as good of a man as Choe Cheok is.”      The Jeong couple took turns in this effort, continuing to pressure Lady Shim and praise Mr. Yang’s son. Soon, Lady Shim was persuaded, and she set a date for their wedding on a fortuitous day in October.      Ok-yeong heard about these plans, and she appealed to her mother immediately that night. “Choe Cheok didn’t run off; he went to volunteer in the army. His commander in charge prohibits communication, and I know that he himself has not purposely abandoned me or our marriage. Regardless of his motives, how could we possibly break the promise we made and be this dishonorable? You can tell yourself you are changing my mind and this matter, but I won’t marry another man; I’d rather die! Why don’t you understand how I feel?”      Her mother asked, “Why are you being so foolishly stubborn? You need to follow the decisions of your elders when you’re young and don’t know any better!”      A few moments later, Lady Shim was asleep in her bed, lost in her dreams in the middle of the night. Suddenly, she was awakened by the sounds of desperate gasping. She woke up, reaching out blindly for her daughter in her bed, but Ok-yeong was not there. Lady Shim began to panic, searching everywhere. She found Ok-yeong sprawled face down on the floor, with her neck encircled by a cloth that was tied to the window. Her daughter’s hands and feet were cold, and Lady Shim could hear the sounds of her breath becoming fainter and fainter. Soon, Ok-yeong just wasn’t breathing anymore.      Lady Shim was shocked and cried out, untying the cloth from Ok-yeong’s neck. She hurriedly woke up Chun- saeng, her servant, with her feet and ordered her to bring a lantern. Lady Shim wailed as she held her daughter. Cradling her, Lady Shim ladled water up with a small ladle and poured it down her daughter’s throat. Slowly, Ok-yeong opened her eyes, awakening.      Nobody spoke of Mr. Yang or his son ever again.      Choe Cheok’s father sent a letter to his son to let him know about the recent circumstances. In the meantime, Choe Cheok had been getting sicker and sicker, and hearing about Ok-yeong sent him crashing into critical condition. The leader of the army heard the story and allowed Choe to return home immediately.      After only a few days at home, Choe had fully recovered, and the couple celebrated their wedding at Saengwon Jeong’s house on the first of November. Nothing more needs to be said about their wedding—their perfect and beautiful union requires no further details.      When Choe led his wife and mother-in-law through his gate, the servants were delighted. When they went over the threshold, his relatives congratulated them. His house was full of happiness, and his neighbors did nothing but compliment them.      In their married life, Ok-yeong had the upper part of her clothing firmly tied up and worked diligently on her weaving at the loom. She even drew the water for their home herself and pounded away at the mortar in the kitchen. She did her best to be of service for her husband and her in-laws, dedicating all of her piety and devotion. Ok-yeong’s manner didn’t change whether she was taking care of her elders or managing the servants; she was always well mannered and warm-hearted. Rumors about Ok-yeong and her good manner quickly spread, and no one thought that any lady from a rich family could be a better wife than Ok-yeong.      After his marriage, Choe was able to succeed in all of his ventures, and the house was eventually filled with his abundant assets. The couple’s only unfulfilled desire was to have a child; Ok-yeong had not yet been with child. In their desperation, on the first of every month, the couple would go to Manboksa Temple and pray to the Buddha for a child.      The next year, 1594, on New Year’s Day, they again went to the temple and prayed. That very night, Ok-yeong found Jangryukbul7 in her dreams. He told her, “I am the Buddha of Manboksa Temple. Since you have been unwavering in your devotion and prayers, I am willing to bless you with an unusual boy. He will certainly have a unique mark.”      Ok-yeong managed to conceive that month and did give a birth to a boy. After her son was born, she discovered a red birthmark, the size of a baby’s palm, on his back. Therefore, she named her son, Mong-seok.8      Choe Cheok was a good bamboo flautist. He often played his bamboo f lute in the moonlight, facing the moon, or on a beautiful morning, turned towards the flowers.      One night in late spring, the sky was clear. The breeze was gentle and the white moon was bright. Flower petals drifted and floated in the wind, brushing up against his clothes as the delicate fragrance wafted into his nose. Choe filled his glass with wine and drank it and then leaned against a desk, and played a couple of songs on the flute. The last notes lingered in the air after he finished playing.      Ok-yeong was quietly sitting there for a while and finally broke the silence. “I understand that it’s not proper for a woman to write poetry, but my heart has already come far enough and I cannot keep silent any longer.”      She wrote a poem and proceeded to read it: Wangjagyo9 is playing a bamboo flute, the moon was quiet. The blue sky is the color of the ocean, thick with dew. Alongside each other, riding on a blue bird and flying, Never would we be lost, even in the mist of Mt. Bongnaesan.   Choe was taken aback by his wife’s talent. He had never really thought of her as much of a poet at all. Surprised, he read the lines of the poem again himself, and they impressed him all over again. Thus, he responded immediately with a poem of his own:   In the dim land of the hermits, the dawn cloud is red, Resonating in the air is the sound of a bamboo flute with a song yet unfinished. The lingering sound remains in the sky, as the moon sails over the mountain, The shadow of flowers in the garden sways in the fragrant breeze.   As soon as Choe finished reading his poem, Ok- yeong felt an unbridled joy bloom inside her heart. Their excitement quickly shifted to exhaustion, and sadness took over; and then, she held her husband’s hands and cried, “There are a lot of mishaps in the human world, and good fortune always attracts trouble; therefore, it is known that unions and departures in life are unpredictable. Perhaps it is that fear that must cause helpless sentimentality.”      Choe wiped away her tears with his sleeve and consoled her. “It is the will of the heavens that things shrink and then expand, that they are filled and then emptied. The cycle of life is natural—out of every good thing, a terrible one will follow, and that will be followed by disasters and worries. Even if misfortune befalls you, you should try to remain calm in your heart and trust and follow your destiny. What good would it do to fall into sadness? There’s an ancient saying that tells us, ‘Don’t lament and linger on your own worries,’ and another one that teaches, ‘Only mention and dwell on the good things. Stay silent on the bad.’ Let’s not ruin our pleasant hearts by putting ourselves through the agony of worry and anxiety.”      After this day, the couple’s love deepened, and they never separated from each other for even a single day; they believed they were true soul mates, meant entirely for the other.      In August 1597, Namwon was captured by the Japanese army. All the people in Namwon fled for safety, including Choe’s family, who escaped to Yeongok in Mt. Jirisan. Choe made Ok-yeong dress as a man in their escape. When they were in the crowd, no one recognized her as a woman.      After a few days in the desolate mountains, their scant supply of food was gone, and they were starving. Choe and some of the other young men decided to trek down from the mountain to forage for food. At the same time, they wanted to check the positions of the Japanese army. When Choe and his group arrived at Gurye, they were confronted by the enemy and only barely escaped death by hiding behind a rock and some bushes.      That same day, the Japanese army swept through Yeongok. The enemy forces hit every cave and ravine, plundering the whole area. The road to Yeongok was completely blocked off, and Choe was stranded away from his family.      Three days later, when the Japanese army finally withdrew, Choe was able, at last, to get into Yeongok. Stepping foot into the village, he was overwhelmed. Corpses were piled up on the streets, and blood ran down streets in rivers. He heard the faint sound of crying from the woods. As he approached, he saw that there were some survivors: injured elderly and children.      Tearfully, they explained what happened. “In the last three days, enemy soldiers came through the mountain, stole our property, cut people down, and took all young people prisoner. They left yesterday, and the enemy is now camped by the Seomjin River. If you want to look for your family, you should search down there, by the river.”      Hearing this news, Choe Cheok wailed in desperation, looking up at the sky. He punched the ground in anger and vomited up blood, and immediately ran to search for his family by the Seomjin River. After about a mile, he began hearing slow, faint groans coming from the messy stacks of corpses. The faces of the bodies were covered in blood, and he couldn’t tell who they were and whether or not they were dead or alive. Among the haphazard pile, he recognized Chun-saeng’s clothes and called out loudly, “Chun-saeng? Is that you?”      The body’s eyes snapped wide open, and her voice cracked as she tried to speak. “Mr. Choe, Mr. Choe! The whole family has been kidnapped by enemy soldiers. I was carrying baby Mong-seok on my back, and I couldn’t run fast enough for them. I was cut down by the enemy’s knife and fell here. I awoke and came to after about half a day, but I don’t know what happened to the baby.”      As she finished speaking, she was gone, the last of her energy expended.      Choe pounded his chest and stamped his foot before passing out and falling to his knees. After a while, he came to, but still had no idea what he was going to do. Choe managed to pull himself together and decided to head down to the Seomjin River. When he arrived, he saw a group of old people and children gathered in a huddle and covered with wounds, crying.      He approached them and asked what happened. One of them answered, “We were hiding in the mountain when they found us and brought us here. When the Japanese soldiers reached their ship, they only took the young aboard. The rest—the elderly and children—they stabbed and left here to die.”      Choe began sobbing in great sadness. Broken and empty, he tried to commit suicide. Only the efforts of the survivors around him saved him.      Once he was a little more himself, Choe set off. He had no place to go, and just plodded alongside the river alone. For three days and three nights, he walked without stopping before arriving at his own house in his hometown. The fence had fallen apart, and shards of broken roof tiles were scattered over the ground. The fires that had consumed houses were still alight, and piles of corpses were strewn around haphazardly, making getting around difficult.      Choe ended up by Geumseok Bridge, where he rested. He had depleted all of his energy in this last journey, and hadn’t eaten for days. He simply couldn’t stand up. Coincidentally, at that time, a commander from the Ming Dynasty was watering his horses underneath that very bridge. He had about ten cavalry soldiers with him, and they had come from Namwon Castle. During his stint as a volunteer soldier, Choe had had a few experiences with the Ming Dynasty, and knew scattered bits of Chinese. He told the commander his story: his whole family had been harmed, he had nobody and nowhere to go to, and all he wanted to do was to follow the commander back to China and live by himself in seclusion.      The commander listened to his story and felt sorry for him. He told Choe, “I am Yu Youwen, a colonel under General Oh. I live in Yaoxing, Zhejiang Province. Although I am poor, I am able to support myself. I believe it’s important in life to meet someone who understands you; therefore, it is only important to follow one’s heart, wherever it may lead you to wander. You don’t have to stay in this small land in poverty.”      He offered a mount to Choe and brought them both back to camp.      Since Choe was handsome, scrupulous, and skilled at horse riding, archery, and writing, Yu became very fond of him. Soon, the two were sharing many meals together at the same table and many blankets together in their sleep.      Eventually, the general’s army had to return back to Ming. Yu put Choe’s name down on the register in place of a dead soldier. With his help, Choe crossed the border, traveled to Yaoxing, and found a place to stay with the general.      Before this happened, Choe’s family was captured by Japanese forces and taken to the Seomjin River. The Japanese soldiers considered Choe’s father and mother-in-law to be old and sick; they were not as vigilant in their guard. While the soldiers were not looking, the two hid themselves in a reed field. After the Japanese army moved on, they turned to wandering the village and begging. Eventually, they reached Yeongoksa Temple. For some reason, they heard a baby’s cry coming from the monk’s quarters inside the temple.      In tears, Lady Shim asked Choe’s father, “Why does that cry sound just like our grandson’s?”      Spurred into action, he opened the door and looked. Indeed, it was their grandson Mong-seok. He held the crying baby in his arms and stroked his face for a long while in silence. He then spoke, asking the monks, “Where did you find this baby?”      A monk called Hyejeong came forward and answered, “I had heard crying from one of the piles of corpses on the streets and took the poor baby into my care. I’ve been waiting for his parents to come, and it has really happened! What is this if not help and will of the heavens?”      Choe’s father and Lady Shim took their grandson back with them, taking turns carrying him on their journey home. There, they gathered all of their former servants and began to rebuild their household.      In another part of the world, Ok-yeong was living under capture with a Japanese soldier. Tonu was an old soldier and a Buddhist who did not kill. He had originally been a merchant and an expert sailor. One day, a Japanese commander, Konishi Yukinaga, had recognized his skills and made him a captain.      Tonu liked Ok-yeong, whom he thought was clever. He was afraid that she would run away and made a point to treat her well to set her at ease, providing her with clean clothes and good food. Ok-yeong managed to escape the ship many times in order to kill herself, but every time, she was caught and unable to go through with it.      One night, Jangryukbul showed up in her dreams and said, “I am the Buddha of Manboksa Temple. Stop trying to die! You’ll find happiness in the future.”      Ok-yeong woke up from the dreams, considered them deeply, and realized that they had given her a sense of hope. Thus, she forced herself to begin eating again to stay alive.      Tonu lived in Nagoya. He lived only with his old wife and young daughter; no other men lived in the house. Because he didn’t realize Ok-yeong was a woman, he allowed her to live in the same house but prohibited her from entering the women’s chamber.      Ok-yeong lied to Tonu about being a woman upon her capture. “As you may notice, I have a naturally petite build and little strength; I also get sick easily. As a result of my physique, I really couldn’t do any men’s work, even in Joseon. I can cook and sew, but little else.”      Tonu was sympathetic and took pity on her. He called her “Sau” and placed her in charge of the ship. Every time he traveled for business, she would be by his side to Fujian and Zhejiang Province in China.      At this moment, Choe Cheok was staying in Yaoxing. Over time, he had forged a brotherly bond with Yu Youwen. When Yu expressed that he intended on arranging a match between Choe and his sister, Choe resolutely resisted.      “My entire family was ransacked by Japanese soldiers, and I wasn’t even able to hold a memorial service to honor my old father and vulnerable wife because I don’t even know if they’re dead or alive! In this case, how could I remarry and lead a comfortable life on my own here?”      Yu honored Choe’s wishes, and there was no more talk of a new marriage.      That winter, Yu died from illness, and Choe lost his home. Choe Cheok, traveling along the Yangtze and Huai Rivers and taking in the views; he saw the Longmen and Yuxue, went as far as the Yuan and Xiang Rivers, crossed Dongting Lake by boat, and climbed Yueyang and Gusutai Towers.      As he traveled along, Choe would sing on a mountain or by a river and wander through a bank of clouds. The more he saw, the more he began to consider retiring from the world. He had heard of a Haichan ascetic called Wang Yong who lived in seclusion in Mount Qingcheng. Not only did Wang know many mystical medicines, but he was also able to wield magic, and Choe decided to journey toward the State of Shu and learn the magic.      There lived a man named Zhu You who wrote under the pseudonym Hao Chuan within the Yongjin Gate in Hangzhou. He was well versed in scripture and history, but found no pleasure in the spotlights of his achievements. He was generous in heart and strong in justice, and Zhu and Choe grew close. When Zhu discovered that Choe was relocating to Shu, he brought drinks for Choe.      After a few drinks, Zhu was drunk. Slurring through his stupor, he called out to Choe using his nickname: “Baekseung! Who wouldn’t want to live in this world forever? But where in the world lies such logical sense since ancient times? What could possibly be the merit of spending the rest of our entire lives taking potions for eternal life and enduring perpetual suffering and starvation, only to become neighbors of mountain goblins? Instead, take advantage of every possible opportunity in this world, right now! Travel to the States of Wu and Yue with me, sell silk and tea, and enjoy life! Wouldn’t this be what we’re supposed to do, as men who have thorough knowledge of life?”      Choe realized the truth in Zhu’s words and ultimately resolved to travel with him.      In the spring of 1600, Choe accompanied Zhu on business in Annam10 along with a group of merchants from the same village. As the party was arriving in Annam, approximately ten Japanese vessels happened to be anchored at the same port.      Choe and his companions were in Annam for over ten days, all the way until the second of April. The sky was clear, cloudless, and blue; the water was as fine as silk. The wind had stopped, and all that was left was silence, without a single shadow in sight. The sailors were in a deep sleep, and only the cry of an occasional waterfowl would break the still. Layered over the silence was a Buddhist prayer from a Japanese vessel, and its sound was very sorrowful.      Choe leaned up against the ship window, thinking about his situation, and took out a bamboo flute from his pack. He chose a sad tone, needing to express some of the melancholy that he usually kept locked away. Because of the tone of the flute, the sea and sky seemed now to be enveloped in a rueful light, and it seemed as if even the clouds and fog were filled with grief.      The sailors were startled by his playing, woken up, and affected by the overwhelming sense of sadness. At that moment, the Buddhist prayer coming from the Japanese vessel suddenly ceased and was replaced with a poetry reading in the Joseon language:   Wangjagyo is playing a bamboo flute, the moon was quiet. The blue sky is in the color of the ocean, thick with dew. Alongside each other, riding on a blue bird and flying, Never would we be lost, even in the mist of Mt. Bongnaesan.        The voice stopped after the last line, replaced by the wistful sounds of sighing and tongue clacking. Hearing the poem immensely surprised Choe, and he didn’t know what to think. Not completely in control of his actions, Choe loosened his grip on the flute. He just stood there, motionless and vacant, two steps away from death.      Concerned, Zhu asked: “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”      The questions were repeated, but Choe remained wordless. The third time he asked, Choe finally reacted: he opened his mouth, but the response was soundless. His throat choked over the words, unable to form them. Instead, he helplessly burst into tears.      After he managed to calm himself down, Choe explained. “That poem was written by my wife. Only the two of us on this earth know it. And that voice—I can almost believe that it’s my wife’s. Could it really be her on that vessel? That’s impossible, isn’t it?”      And then, he shared his entire story, telling everybody on the boat what he and his family had suffered at the hands of Japanese soldiers.      All those around him on the ship were surprised by his unusual tale. A brave young man, Du Hong, reacted by pounding an oar with his fist after he heard the story. He stood up, flushed with conviction, and announced, “I shall go to the vessel and take care of this situation!”      Zhu stopped Du and said, “If you cause a scene this late in the evening, the situation could easily turn into a catastrophe. Let us consider the problem, quietly, tomorrow morning.”      The others agreed, and Choe sat down and waited, still, until the morning came.        — To be continued in the next issue. —   [1] Saengwon is one of the lowest scholarly ranks given to those who pass the state examinations. [2] The poem is found in the last chapter of “Biao You Mei” in the section “The Odes of Shao and the South” under “Lessons from the States” in the Book of Songs. [3] Kim Tae-hyeon was a scholar in the Goryeo Dynasty. As the story goes, a widowed daughter of the house he was studying at slipped him a love poem through the window. He never returned to the house again. [4] Madam Shim is the wife of Yi Gyeong-shin. In Korea, a woman keeps her maiden name after marriage. [5] According to myth, Wolha Noin (“Old Man under the Moonlight”) carries red thread to connect a man and woman together for life. [6] The wishes refer to the fulfillmentof the three lives in Buddhism: past, present, and future. [7] A very tall Buddha statue that was inside Jangryuk Hall at Manboksa Temple. The temple burned down during the Japanese invasion of 1597, but Jangryukbul remains preserved in storage at the site of the burned temple.  [8] The name means “to have dreamed of the Buddha.”  [9] A fairy hermit, known for his talent with the bamboo flute, from the Chu Dynasty. [10] A name for Vietnam used prior to 1945.   KOREAN CLASSIC STORIES Vol. 3 (Seoul Selection, 2013) Ed. Lee Jin-hyuk and Kim Hansol Trans. Ally Hwang   Copyright © 2013 Seoul Selection Reprinted with permission from Seoul Selection

  by Jo Wihan

• 

  The Story of Jeon Unchi 3

  INTRODUCTION “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is a classic of Korean fiction that incorporates the fantastic into the realistic. Unlike many of the moralistic works that came before it, “Jeon Unchi” is an adventure tale replete with action. Although no one knows who wrote the story, it has the characteristics of popular fiction written for commoners in the Korean vernacular script (hangul) that was produced in the late eighteenth and throughout the nineteenth centuries. Inspired by a historical figure with the slightly different name of Jeon Uchi (late fifteenth to early sixteenth century) who was reputed to be a master of the mystical arts, “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is the tale of a rebellious magician and has been adapted to the screen as both a Korean drama and a film. Originally published circa 1847, although even that fact isn’t certain, this is the first time this work has been translated into English. — At this time, a royal censor came to the king and spoke to him. “An informant told me that four or five people were planning a revolt in Hoseo province. So I have come to report that I have put the informant under custody.”     The king replied, “It is due to my lack of virtue that there are such criminals in the kingdom. How sad this is.”     He ordered the State Tribunal and the Police Bureau to arrest and bring the traitors. When they were arrayed before the king, he interrogated them personally.     One of them spoke out. “We planned to make Jeon Unchi the king and so bring peace to the common people, but it has all come out. We deserve to be executed ten thousand times and more.”     At this time, Unchi was working as the recorder of criminal investigations. He was standing at the king’s side, writing down the words of the interrogation when his name unexpectedly came up in the testimony of the criminal. The king became enraged.     “I suspected that Jeon Unchi might plan treason one day, and now his name has appeared in this confession.”     The king quickly ordered Unchi to be restrained and torture instruments to be brought.     “I once pardoned you of your crimes and even granted you an official position. Yet, instead of serving me with loyalty, you committed an act that is deserving of the punishment of a traitor. I will hear no excuses but order you to die.”     The king then commanded his servants, “Kill him with one blow.”     One was about to hit him with all his strength, when his arm became beset with such pain that he could not proceed.     Unchi spoke out, “I deserve to be executed ten thousand times over for my past crimes, but I am innocent of the charge of treason that is being laid upon me now.”     He thought to himself, “This is surely the work of someone trying to frame me.”     “Since I am about to die, it saddens me that I won’t be able to pass down a particular talent of mine. I beg Your Majesty to grant me the favor of displaying that talent.”     The king thought to himself, “This wretch is quite skilled, so I should see this.”     “What talent are you talking about?”     Unchi replied, “I am so good at painting that when I depict a tree, it actually grows, when I depict an animal, it walks about, and when I depict a mountain, trees and other plants appear on it. They call such a thing a radiant picture. If I do not leave behind such a painting before I die, I fear that I will turn into a discontented ghost.”     The king thought to himself, “If this wretch returns as a ghost, that might cause some problems.”     So he ordered his restraints to be removed, and a brush, ink, and paper to be brought.     Unchi drew mountains and rivers in layers upon layers of summits and valleys as well as a waterfall of ten thousand gil falling from a great height. Willow branches were arrayed on the bank of a stream where a donkey with a saddle was standing. Unchi threw away the brush and bowed four times to the king.     “Why are you bowing to me when you’ve been condemned to death?”     “I bid Your Majesty farewell as I mean to go into a mountain.”     He then entered into the picture, got on the donkey, and headed for a mountain. He soon disappeared from sight.     The king spoke out in anger, “I have been tricked by this wretch again! What must be done!”     He ordered that the picture be burnt. He then interrogated the prisoners once more before they were beheaded.     Unable to allay his anger over being tricked by Unchi again, he sent out notices to all eight provinces, announcing that whoever captures Unchi will be awarded a hundred gold pieces along with other prizes and an official position in the government. — After Unchi used his magic to escape execution, he returned home and told his mother everything that had happened. She was shocked by what she heard.     “From now on, hide yourself and do not go to court ever again. Since you tricked the king, you won’t obtain a pardon. How could you face your ancestors in the afterlife?”     She reprimanded him severely, so Unchi spent his days quietly in the mountain, concentrating on his studies.     One day, he was riding on a donkey and enjoying the scenery when he saw a young monk who was taking a pretty girl into the mountain. Unchi went on to drink some liquor at a country tavern, but on his way back, he saw the girl climb a tree and try to commit suicide by hanging herself. He quickly untied the noose and massaged her hands and feet to bring her back to consciousness. When she woke up, Unchi asked if she tried to kill herself.     “That monk you saw me with was a good friend of my husband when he was alive. Although I became a widow at a young age, I maintained my virtue. Today is the day of my husband’s passing, so the monk came and said that we should perform a memorial ritual at the temple. I agreed to go with him without suspecting anything. But that bastard brought me to this place and raped me, violating my chastity. I saw no use in living on, so I tried to kill myself.”     Unchi consoled her and sent her to his house. He then went up the mountain until he came to a large temple, where he saw the wretched monk. Unchi cast a spell and let out a strong breath, which transformed the monk so that he looked like Unchi.     An investigator from the Police Bureau, who happened to be staying at the temple to scout the area, saw the monk and thought he was Unchi and reported the sighting to the local magistrate. The magistrate was pleased to hear this and sent soldiers to the temple, where they arrested the monk and transported him to Gyeongseong.     The king was preparing to interrogate him personally when officials of the Royal Secretariat reported to him, “Jeon Unchi has been arrested in every province and many towns, so there are three hundred sixty of them. This is surely the work of his magic.”     The king became enraged but did not know how to handle the matter until Chief Royal Secretary Wang Yeonhui spoke. “It’s hard to fathom Jeon Unchi’s magic. Since this is liable to create much chaos, I think it would be best to behead them all rather than try to figure out which one is the real Jeon Unchi.”     The king agreed and proceeded to a watchtower from where he ordered the beheading of all the Jeon Unchis. But then one of them spoke out. “I am not Jeon Unchi but the Chief Royal Secretary Wang Yeonhui.”     The king looked at him closely and saw that it was indeed Wang. When he asked his officials what was going on, they answered, “But he is Jeon Unchi.”     The king lamented at that. “The fortunes of this country have fallen so low that it is rife with such demonic tricks. How am I to preserve this country? I can’t allow so many innocent officials and commoners to die just so I can have one criminal executed.”     And so he ended the interrogation.     At this time, Unchi changed his appearance to that of Wang Yeonhui inside a cloud, and then walked out of the palace gates. Servants hurried over with horses and escorted him to Wang’s house. As Unchi went into the main chamber and conversed with Wang’s wife, none in the household suspected anything.     The real Wang Yeonhui came out of the palace but could not find any of his servants. He thought it strange and borrowed a horse from a colleague and rode to his house. There he became very angry at his servants at the front door and demanded to know why they were home. They answered him, “But we escorted Your Lordship here a while ago. How come Your Lordship is here again?”     And they looked at him strangely. As he proceeded to the main chamber, servant girls clapped their hands in astonishment.     “What is going on? How is His Lordship outside now? How is this happening?”     And so they talked in confusion.     Wang Yeonhui, unaware of anything, went into his sleeping chamber and found another Wang Yeonhui speaking with his wife.     He yelled in rage, “What kind of a wretch are you that you dare come into the house of a noble official and converse with his wife?”     He then commanded his servants, “Get that bastard now!”     Unchi spoke, “What kind of a wretch are you that you dare to wear my face, come into my chamber, and try to violate my wife? What calamity is this!”     He commanded the servants, “Get that bastard now!”     The servants looked back and forth but could not fathom the trick that was being performed before them.     As they did not know what to do, Unchi spoke out, “I’ve heard that demons cannot hold the appearance of a human for long.”     Unchi threw water and red paint at Wang Yeonhui, which turned into a nine-tailed fox.     The servants came with swords and clubs to kill the animal, but Unchi stopped them. “This is such a strange event that it should be reported to the government and be handled officially. Until then, bind that creature tightly, put it in a chamber, and guard the place well.”     The servants obeyed and restrained Wang Yeonhui before shutting him in.     When Wang Yeonhui tried to speak, fox noises came out of his mouth. He could only weep at the condition of having his human mind trapped inside an animal’s body.     Unchi thought to himself, “He won’t be able to live many days in such a state.”     That night, at the fourth watch, he went to Wang Yeonhui.     “We had no cause to be enemies, but when I saw that you tried to earn merit by having me killed, I had no choice but to kill you first. But I would like to go through my life without taking any life, so I’m going to forgive you. So don’t you dare try anything like that ever again.”     Unchi then cast a spell that returned Wang Yeonhui to his true form.     When Wang realized only then that everything was the work of Unchi’s magic, he spoke out in fear, “I did not know the extent of Master Jeon’s power, so I committed a great wrong.”     Wang Yeonhui then expressed his gratitude many times over, after which Unchi spoke to him again. “After I release you and leave this place, your household is going to fall into chaos, so do what you need to do.”     He then left for the southwest.     Wang Yeonhui called out to his servants, “Come and look at the demon again.”     The servants went into the room and found the creature gone.     When they exclaimed in astonishment, Wang Yeonhui spoke out in anger, “All this happened because you failed to guard the house properly.”     He reprimanded them for a long time before dismissing them.     When Unchi went back to the mountain temple, he found that the monk had returned as well, but still with Unchi’s appearance. He threw water on the monk and cast a spell that returned him to his true form.     Unchi reprimanded him severely, “As a monk, you should have abided by the ways of Buddhism. Instead, you lured away a virtuous woman and violated her. You deserve to be killed ten thousand times over, so I planned on having you executed as Jeon Unchi, but I just couldn’t bring myself to take a life, so I saved you and turned you back into your true form. From now on, do not act like that again.” — Unchi was returning home when he came across a group of young men who were fighting over a scroll and marveling at it. “The picture in this scroll is the greatest masterpiece.”     Unchi looked at it and saw that it depicted a beautiful woman. It showed her holding a child while teasing it, her mouth and eyes drawn so well that she seemed to be alive and moving.     Unchi thought of a trick and spoke with a smile, “Why are you praising this picture like it’s such a great work?”     A young man named O replied. “You may think that you have high taste, but you shouldn’t speak of things you are ignorant of. See how the woman in the picture seems to be speaking and watching, so how could it not be a masterpiece?”     Unchi laughed at that and asked for the price of the painting.     O answered. “It is worth fifty nyang. That’s actually cheap for such a quality work.”     “I have scroll picture of my own, so come look at it.”     He took a scroll out of his sleeve and unfurled it, revealing another picture of a beautiful woman. She was of great fairness, dressed in a blue jacket and red skirt. She also wore a golden coronet on her head. Her beauty was truly incomparable in the whole world.     All the youths looked and praised it. “She also looks alive, so this picture rivals ours.”     Unchi laughed. “Your picture is fine, but mine has more liveliness. Witness its true quality.”     Unchi hung up the scroll and quietly called to it. “Heavenly maiden Ju, where are you?”     The woman in the picture replied as she stepped out of the picture with a little boy.     Unchi spoke to her, “Pour all these gentlemen some liquor.”     The heavenly maiden replied and poured drinks for everyone. Unchi drank his first and watched as all the young men received their liquor, all of them delighting in its taste. After everyone had their fill, the heavenly maiden cleared everything away before stepping back into the picture.     The men exclaimed in wonder, “I don’t know if this picture is from the Heavenly Realm or something from a dream, but it is truly the most precious object of all time.”     O spoke out, “Let me try it out. Allow me to ask Ju the heavenly maiden to bring us more liquor.”     With Unchi’s assent, O quietly called out to Ju, “We want more liquor, so please give us some.”     Ju the heavenly maiden replied and stepped out of the picture bearing a liquor bottle, while the little boy brought a table. She bent down and poured liquor as before.     O drank his first and waited until everyone else had taken theirs before he got up and expressed his gratitude to Unchi. “I feel fortunate to have met you, to drink such fine liquor, and to witness such a marvel on this day.”     “This picture may possess liveliness but it is a useless thing. So there is no need for you to be so grateful.”     “If you think the picture is so useless, why don’t you sell it to me?”     “If you really want it, I will.”     When O asked for its price, Unchi replied, “Ju the heavenly maiden’s bottle is a true marvel that never runs out of liquor. So I will take a thousand nyang for it.”     “Let us not haggle over the price now. How about we go to my house and discuss it there?”     Unchi agreed and went to his house, where he gave O the scroll.     “I will return tomorrow, so have the money ready by then.”     After Unchi left, O hung up the scroll at the outer chamber of his house and stared drunkenly at Ju the heavenly maiden holding a liquor bottle. He was so taken with her beauty that he took her fair hand and put it on his lap. Overcome with love, he then tried to drag her over to his mattress. Suddenly the chamber door burst open and O’s wife, Lady Min, ran into the room. She was a woman given to jealousy and envy, and often got herself involved in other people’s business. She became so enraged by the sight of her husband showing affection to Ju that she tried to beat her rival. But Ju went back into the painting, which made Min take the scroll down and rip it to pieces, leaving O in shock.       “I promised to pay a thousand nyang for that scroll. What have you done?”     “When the owner comes, I’m going to tell him off and curse him.”     So the two of them argued.     When Unchi returned, O welcomed him and explained the situation. Unchi decided to play a trick on Lady Min and threw a net made of metal strings over her, which turned her into a giant snake. She found that when she tried to speak, no sound came out of her mouth, and when she tried to get up, she could not do so no matter how much she moved around.     Unchi spoke to O, “I left the scroll here as a favor to you, yet the marvel has been destroyed. So meeting you was a misfortune for me. A great calamity will fall upon your house, so take care of yourself.”     “What calamity?”     “A demonic beast that has been waiting in this house for a thousand years will use your wife to create much chaos.”     “How will the demon do that?”     “Because your wife ripped up my scroll, she turned into that demon. Go open the door and see.”     O was skeptical of Unchi’s words, but he opened the door and saw a snake the length of six arms on the ground with his wife nowhere in sight. O’s face turned pale with terror.     “I see a giant snake. I must kill it.”     Unchi stopped him. “This demon is a thousand-year-old spirit. If you kill it, a great harm will come to you. I will attach a talismanic paper to its back, which will make it disappear overnight.”     He took out a talismanic paper and put it on the snake’s back.     He warned O, “Close the door and do not open it until I return.”     He then went home and waited until the new day dawned before he returned to O’s house. There, he went up to Lady Min and reprimanded her.     “You thought so low of your husband that you have acted in a violent and unrighteous manner. Out of jealousy, you ripped up my scroll and insulted me. So I was going to wrap you up in this metal net and put you in a hole in a rock to make you suffer. But if you promise to mend your ways, I will set you free.”     Lady Min nodded her head, so Unchi cast a spell that released Lady Min from the net. She hurriedly got up and bowed down to him in gratitude. — On his way back home, Unchi stopped by the house of Yang Bongan, with whom he used to study. He found him lying down with an illness.     When Unchi queried him in concern, Yang answered him, “I have pains in my stomach and chest. And I can’t partake in anything to eat or drink, so I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again.”     Unchi checked his pulse and spoke, “Yours is not an illness that originated in the body but one that was caused by thoughts of another person. Who has made you so ill?”     “That’s true. There is a woman named Lady Jeong who lives in Hoehyeon District, inside the south gate of the capital city. A person of incomparable beauty, she lost her husband early. She lives next to my uncle’s house, so during a visit I happened to see her over the wall and fell so deeply in love that it has made me ill. And now I fear that I do not have long to live in this world.”     “You should send a matchmaker who talks well to propose marriage.”     “She has such a strict sense of virtue that she will not only reject the proposal but curse me for it.”     “In that case, I will try to bring her to you.”     “No matter how clever you are, she won’t agree to come, so don’t bother putting your effort into it.”     “Don’t worry.”     Unchi then left and flew away on a cloud.     After Lady Jeong had lost her husband, she lived alone and spent day and night weeping over her loss, wishing she could die. She had an elderly mother but no siblings. The mother and daughter spent their days taking care of each other.     One day, Lady Jeong felt troubled for some reason and walked around in her chamber. Suddenly a cloud descended, and an official of the Heavenly Realm stepped forth, dressed in a red robe with a jade belt, wearing a gold crown, and bearing a jade tablet of officialdom.     He spoke to her in a clear and calm voice. “Lady Jeong, come out and hear the command of the Great Jade Emperor of the Heavenly Realm.”     When Jeong told her mother of what she had heard, the elderly woman became astonished and quickly lit incense on a table. Lady Jeong came out to the garden and prostrated herself on the ground.     Unchi spoke, “Heavenly maiden Mun, how did you like living in the world of humans? It is time for you to return to the Heavenly Realm and attend the once-in-three-thousand-years party at the holy lake of Yoji.”     Lady Jeong was astounded by the command of the Great Jade Emperor. “But I am only a human being with a base body who is guilty of many failings. So how could I possibly ascend to the Heavenly Realm?”     “Heavenly maiden Mun has partaken of so much impure water of the human world that she has lost all memory of the Heavenly Realm.”     He then poured fragrant holy water into a gourd bottle and offered it to Jeong. When she drank it, she became so disoriented that she did not know what was happening. Unchi wrapped her inside his cloud and bore her into the air, leaving her mother to bow numerous times toward the sky.     At this time, a supernatural spirit called Heaven Sent Young Master was causing mischief by gathering beggars of all kinds to bother people in the marketplace for food and money. He suddenly became aware of a powerful fragrance and looked up to see a cloud traveling southeast. Heaven Sent Young Master lifted his hand and made a gesture, which created an open doorway on the cloud. A heavenly official and a beautiful woman fell out and dropped to the ground. It was Unchi and Lady Jeong.     Unchi looked around in astonishment but could find nothing amiss.     He was about to cast a spell when a beggar child suddenly appeared and reprimanded him loudly. “Mortal man Jeon Unchi, listen to me. You learned magic only to make use of the Heavenly Realm for your tricks and to deprive women of their virtue. Did you think that heaven would overlook that? I’ve been ordered to end the likes of you, so don’t blame me for your demise.”     Unchi unsheathed his sword in anger and tried to threaten the spirit with it, but the weapon turned into a white tiger and attacked Unchi. He tried to escape, but his feet became attached to the ground, making it impossible for him to move. He then attempted to transform himself, but his magic spells no longer worked. He looked up in shock and realized that while the beggar child had a shabby appearance, his magical power was superior.     Unchi got down on his knees and begged, “I may have eyes, but my vision is not clear, so I did not recognize you. I have committed crimes for which I deserve to be killed ten thousand times over. But I have an elderly mother whom I could not take care of properly because of my family’s poverty, so I felt that I had no choice but to trick the king. Also, what I am doing now is not for the purpose of depriving this woman of her virtue but to save the life of a man who has fallen ill. I bid you, master, to pardon my crimes and to teach me the Ways of Heaven.”     Heaven Sent Young Master replied, “I knew all that before you told me. Due to the unfortunate state of this country, the likes of you felt free to create disturbances with magic, so I was going to execute you. But given the situation with your elderly mother, I will let you live for now. Now, return Lady Jeong to her home, and think of some other clever way of saving the life of Yang Bongan. In fact, there is someone who can take the place of Lady Jeong, a woman who lost both her parents early and had to live in dire poverty with no one to depend on. Her name is also Jeong and she is twenty-four years old. If you dare to disobey me, you will come to great harm.”      Unchi bowed down to him. “May I know your lofty name?”     “I am called Heaven Sent Young Master. I’ve been wandering around to have some fun in the world of humans.”     And he returned Unchi’s magical powers.     Unchi immediately took Lady Jeong and returned to her house, where he called out to her mother, “When I went up to the palace of the Great Jade Emperor, he proclaimed, ‘The offenses committed by the heavenly maiden Mun have not been fully atoned for, so return her to the world of humans so that she may suffer some more.’ I am bringing her back to you, so bid her to live virtuously.”     He then put some fragrant medicine in Lady Jeong’s mouth, which allowed her to eventually regain consciousness.     Unchi went back to Heaven Sent Young Master and asked where the woman he spoke of lived. The spirit gave him some magical medicine of transformation and directions to her house. Unchi bowed to him and went to the place, where he found a thatched hut on the verge of collapse. Inside, there was a woman sitting alone, drowning in depression.     Unchi approached her and spoke in a consoling tone, “I know that you are in a difficult situation. You are still unmarried at the age of twenty-four, and so you live a lonely life. I have taken pity on you and will act as your matchmaker.”     She bowed down her head in embarrassment, but Unchi fed her the medicine, threw water on her, and cast a spell that changed her face to that of Lady Jeong. Unchi then told her the story of how Yang had fallen ill because of his love for Jeong and gave her instructions on what to do. He then wrapped her in cloth and transported her in a cloud to Yang’s house. He put her in the outer chamber and went into the inner chamber to speak to Yang.     “Lady Jeong’s sense of virtue is indeed so strong that I could not exchange a single word with her.”     Yang lamented pitifully, “Even with all your skills, you could not persuade her, so how could I expect her to change her mind in the future?”     Unchi tried to console him. “I could not bring Lady Jeong, but I did bring a woman who is ten times more beautiful than her.”     “I have seen a lot of beautiful women, but there is none like Lady Jeong. Don’t joke about something you know nothing of.”     “How could I joke around with an ill person? I put her in the outer chamber. Her beauty is truly incomparable. Go and you will see.”     Yang was hopeful and skeptical in equal measure, but he was finally persuaded to go to the outer chamber, where he saw a woman in a white dress. The clarity of her face was that of a full moon on an autumn sky, and the brightness of her eyes was that of the morning star. Her beauty was indeed incomparable. As he continued to look at her, he saw that her appearance was that of Lady Jeong, who had been on his mind day and night. He felt so intoxicated with delight and affection that his illness faded away. — One day, Unchi left home to pay his respects to a senior personage, taking with him a bolt of silk to present as a gift.     At this time, the famed scholar Seo Hwadam1 summoned a servant boy and spoke to him, “Today, at the Hour of the Horse, a man with the family name of Jeon will come. So clean up this cottage thoroughly.”     Unchi came upon the entrance to a mountain path, which he walked through to climb up to a beauteous land, where he wandered leisurely to enjoy its scenery. The place was full of pine and bamboo trees, along with a calmly flowing river where deer looked for mushrooms and cranes danced about in joy. It was such a fair place that it appeared to be in a supernatural realm.      Unchi noticed a door made of twigs among bamboo trees and knocked on it.     A little boy came out. “Are you Master Jeon?”     “How do you know who I am?”     “My master told me this morning.”     Unchi was greatly pleased, so he gave the boy the bolt of silk to present as a gift and asked to see his master. Hwadam invited him to his cottage, where they greeted each other politely before settling down to talk.     Unchi spoke. “You lofty name is so renowned that I decided to see you even if I had to travel a thousand ri. So I bid you to allow me to learn from you.”     “So Master Jeon wants to follow my learning. But what profound knowledge do you think I possess that you should praise me so profusely? I have heard that your magical powers are so great that there is nothing that is unknown to you. So I hoped to meet you one day as well. Now that you are here, I feel most fortunate.”     Unchi expressed his gratitude for his words, and they spent the entire day conversing leisurely. Hwadam summoned a maid and had her bring some liquor and food. He then grabbed a sword and stabbed it into a wall, which made holy liquor that supernatural spirits drank pour out, filling a bowl in an instant. On the north wall was a beautifully painted image of a magnificent tower. Hwadam reached into the picture and opened a silk-covered window through which they could see a maiden in a colorful dress approach with a table bearing liquor cups. She stepped out of the picture and sat by Unchi to present liquor to him. Unchi drank it and found it wonderfully fragrant.     “I have come to a place of supernatural beauty where I got to drink the liquor of holy spirits and partake in a sumptuous meal, so my gratitude toward you knows no bounds.”     Hwadam laughed at that. “How excessively you praise such modest liquor and food.”     They had been exchanging liquor for a while when suddenly a modestly dressed gentleman came in.     “Who is your guest?” he asked Hwadam.     “This is Master Jeon from the southwest.” He then addressed Unchi. “This is my younger brother Yongdam. He has never seen you before, and he has forgotten how to act politely before a guest, so please forgive him.”     Unchi looked at Yongdam and saw that he possessed clear eyes and outstanding eyebrows. He was of such grand appearance that his aura of dignity was liable to startle people.     Yongdam addressed Unchi in a polite manner. “For a long time I have heard of your great magical powers, so I have been wanting to meet you for a while. Could I possibly ask you to demonstrate your prowess?”     “How could a lowly person like myself pretend to know such things?”     But Yongdam made the request two or three more times until Unchi finally relented. He cast a spell, which turned Yongdam’s hat into a bull’s head with horns that stretched the length of six arms. It fell to the floor, twitched its eyes, and opened its mouth. Yongdam became upset and cast a spell of his own, which turned Unchi’s hat into a pig’s head. It fell to the ground as well, where it displayed its teeth and shook its ears.     Unchi thought to himself, “This man seems to possess some skills, so I’ll take him on.” He cast a spell on the pig’s head, transforming it into a long, three-pronged spear. Yongdam also cast a spell, turning the bull’s head into a great sword.     The long spear and the great sword clashed in the air, their blades shimmering as they reflected the light of the sun. Yongdam then threw his fan into the mix and cast another spell, turning the sword and the fan into a red dragon and a blue dragon. Unchi threw in his own fan and cast a spell, turning the spear and the fan into a white dragon and a black dragon. As the four dragons fought, the place became filled with clouds and fog while thunder and lightning struck. Yet no clear winner emerged.     When Hwadam saw the blue dragon and the red dragon losing strength, he thought to himself, “If the two of them keep competing like this, it will come to no good end.”      He threw down a water plate, which turned everything back to their original shape.     Unchi put his hat back on, retrieved his fan, and spoke in a reconciliatory manner, which made Yongdam leave his hat and fan on the floor, all in good humor.     Unchi then bowed down to Hwadam. “I insulted you by daring to display my talent before your superior skills, which is a grievous thing. I will return later to apologize properly.”     Hwadam saw Unchi off before he reprimanded Yongdam. “You used a blue dragon and a red dragon, while Unchi used a white dragon and a black dragon. Blue represents wood and red represents fire, while white represents gold and black represents water. Among the five basic elements, gold wins over wood and water wins over fire. So how did you expect to win against Unchi? And why did you get into such a silly contest with a guest in the first place?”     Yongdam pretended to apologize, but he bore a great resentment against Unchi, to the extent of wanting to do him harm.     Three days later, Unchi visited Hwadam again.     Hwadam spoke to him, “I have a favor to ask you, and I hope you will agree to it.”     “What is it?”     “There is a great mountain in the south sea called Hwa. There is wise man there who is known as Master Unsu. I studied under him when I was young, and he has sent me many letters since then, but I have been unable to reply to him. Could you possibly go there for me?”     When Unchi readily agreed, Hwadam spoke to him, “Now that I think of it, Hwa Mountain is in the middle of the ocean, so it won’t be easy for you to get there.”     “I may be modest in my talents, but I can go and return in no time.” When Hwadam expressed skepticism at that, Unchi began to think that he underestimated his powers.     “If I do not return in good time, I will never leave this mountain again, even if I end up dying here.”     “In that case, I wish you a good journey, but I still worry that you might make a mistake along the way.”     When Hwadam gave him a letter to deliver, Unchi transformed himself into a hawk and flew toward the center of the ocean.     Suddenly a great net appeared out of nowhere and blocked his path. When Unchi tried to fly over it, it grew to block him further. No matter how high he flew, its size matched him to the extent of touching the sky. And its bottom knots were tied to ropes that were submerged in the water. When Unchi tried to fly around it, it spread wide as well, preventing him from reaching Hwa Mountain. After ten days of trying to break through, he had no choice but to return to Hwadam and relate the strange event in the middle of the ocean.     Hwadam spoke to him, “You boasted so much before but you failed in your mission, so why don’t you try leaving the mountains now?”     Unchi, in great trepidation, tried to run, but Hwadam, predicting his action, transformed himself into a wildcat and attacked him. Unchi hurriedly turned himself into a hawk to escape, but then Hwadam became a blue lion and took Unchi in his mouth before knocking him to the ground.     Hwadam reprimanded him, “You used such measly magic to trick the king and cause mischief without thought. For your lack of manners, you deserve to die.”     Unchi replied in a plaintive tone, “I was ignorant of how great your powers were, so I did act in defiance of your high dignity. I do deserve to die for that, but I have an elderly mother to take care of, so I ask that you spare my life.”     “If I let you live just this once, you must promise never to act in an unrighteous manner again. Take care of your mother, but once she passes away, what do you say we go up to the holy mountain of Yeongju together and study the ways of heavenly spirits?”      “I will do as you say.”     He bowed down to him before returning home. After that, he stopped using his magical powers and spent his time taking good care of his mother.     After time passed like the flowing of water, Unchi’s mother passed away. He performed all the proper rituals as he buried her in a grave on a mountain. He then went through the three-year mourning period.     One day, Hwadam came to visit and Unchi hurried over to meet him. After they exchanged greetings, they went into his house and sat down.     Hwadam spoke to him, “We have made a promise before, so I came despite knowing that you are still in mourning. I have come to take you away, so prepare your travel gear.”     Unchi, with great happiness, distributed his wealth to his servants. “This is my final farewell, so I bid you all to live well and perform proper rituals for my ancestors.”     After Unchi bowed down before the graves of his ancestors, he and Hwadam got on a cloud and flew in the direction of Yeongju Mountain. No one knows what happened to them after that. The Big Book of Classic Fantasy  (Vintage Books, 2019) Ed. Ann and Jeff VanderMeer Trans. Minsoo Kang Copyright © 2019 Vintage Translation copyright © 2019 Minsoo Kang Reprinted with permission from Vintage. [1] Seo Hwadam: Hwadam was the literary name of the historical figure Seo Gyeongdeok (1489–1546), a revered Confucian philosopher who was famed for his brilliance, erudition, and commitment to scholarship.

  by Anonymous

• 

  The Story of Jeon Unchi 2

  INTRODUCTION “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is a classic of Korean fiction that incorporates the fantastic into the realistic. Unlike many of the moralistic works that came before it, “Jeon Unchi” is an adventure tale replete with action. Although no one knows who wrote the story, it has the characteristics of popular fiction written for commoners in the Korean vernacular script (hangul) that was produced in the late eighteenth and throughout the nineteenth centuries. Inspired by a historical figure with the slightly different name of Jeon Uchi (late fifteenth to early sixteenth century) who was reputed to be a master of the mystical arts, “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is the tale of a rebellious magician and has been adapted to the screen as both a Korean drama and a film. Originally published circa 1847, although even that fact isn’t certain, this is the first time this work has been translated into English. — Unchi took his mother into a mountain, where he spent his days riding on a cloud and wandering around as it pleased him. One day, he came to a place where a white-haired old man was weeping sadly. Unchi asked him why he was so sad.     “I am seventy years old and I have a son, but I am lamenting because he has been falsely accused of murder.”     Unchi asked for details of the situation.     “In our village, there is a man named Wang whose wife is very beautiful. My son came to share his affection with her, so he went in and out of their house. But the wife, being a licentious woman, also shared affection with a man named Jo. One day, Wang caught his wife with Jo and the two of them ended up fighting. My son happened to come by and separated the two before sending Jo away, but Wang ended up dying of his wounds. Wang’s cousin reported the death to the government office, turning it into a murder case. Jo is a houseguest of the magistrate Yang Mungi, so he was able to escape prosecution, so it was my son who ended up becoming written up as a murderous criminal. That’s why I am so sad.”     “If that is the truth, I will make sure that your son is safe.”     After Unchi left the old man, he shook his body and turned himself into pure wind before flying to the house of Yang Mungi. There, he found Yang in the main chamber, looking at himself in a mirror. Unchi gave himself the appearance of Wang and stood next to Yang, who, surprised by the uncanny appearance, put down the mirror and looked around. But he saw no one else in the chamber.     “A ghost is playing a trick on me in broad daylight.”     When he looked into the mirror again, he again saw the reflection of someone next to him who addressed him. “I am Wang who was killed by Jo. An official mistakenly arrested Yi for the murder while letting Jo go. If you do not avenge my death, I will not leave you alone.”     And he disappeared.     Yang Mungi, taking great fright, quickly made preparation for an interrogation and put Jo under arrest.     When he questioned him, Jo pleaded innocence, but then Wang appeared out of nowhere and yelled at him. “Jo, you evil bastard! Why did you have relations with my wife and then murder me? You are the unforgiveable culprit, yet you dare to put the guilt on Yi!”     And he disappeared. Jo became so frightened that he did not know what to do.     Yang Mungi put Jo under torture and interrogated him further until the prisoner could not bear the pain anymore and confessed to everything. And so Yi was released and Jo was punished.     After Unchi saved Yi, he flew around on a cloud again, until he came across two men fighting over a pig’s head in the middle of a market street. Unchi came down and asked why they were struggling so.     One of them answered. “I bought this pig’s head at a fair price, but this official is using his position to steal it from me. That’s why we are fighting.”     Unchi cast a spell, making the pig’s head open its mouth and bite the official, who took fright and ran away.     And Unchi took to the sky once more and flew around until he heard the sounds of singing and musical instruments playing. He descended to the place and politely greeted the people he found there.     “I am a passing traveler who would like to join in your merriment.”     A group of young scholars returned the greeting and exchanged names with him. They were in the company of ten or so courtesans, who played instruments and sang. As Unchi conversed with the scholars, he found two named So and Seol to be arrogant.     When food and liquor were served, Unchi addressed them. “I am so grateful to be tasting such precious food thanks to all of you.”     Seol replied, “We may not be wealthy, but we can afford to keep the company of famous courtesans and eat fine food. Perhaps this is the first time you have experienced such things.”     Unchi laughed. “That may be true, but there are things missing here.”     “What might that be?”     “I see no refreshing watermelon, no tangy peach, and no sweet grapes, so why pretend that this is such a sumptuous feast?”     The scholars laughed. “How could you be so ignorant? This is late spring. Such fruits are not available now.”     “I saw a place where all kinds of fruits were ripe.”     Seol addressed him. “In that case, why don’t you go and get some of them?”     Unchi took a servant and went up a hill where there were peaches hanging on trees. He had the servant pick some, and also grapes that were growing below them. They then went down to a field where there were plenty of watermelons growing on vines. They took about twenty of them and brought them to the scholars, who were astonished.     After Unchi got drunk, he decided to play a trick on So and Seol, so he cast a spell on them.     The two of them spoke. “My body feels so heavy, and my mind is in agony with dizziness. How strange this is.”     Unchi addressed them. “You are arrogant and lack manners. And I don’t think you are fit to be with these courtesans.”     The two of them became angry. “We are not eunuchs, so why do you say that we are not fit to be with them?”     Unchi laughed. “Calm yourself and put your hands in your trousers.”     Seol felt inside and addressed So. “My testicles have disappeared and everything is smooth down there. How could this be?”     So asked to see, so Seol showed him, and indeed there was nothing there. So reached into his own trousers and also found nothing there as well.     They exclaimed in shock, “Jeon ridiculed us and now this has happened. What do we do now?”     At this point, one of the courtesans discovered that the small opening below her belly had disappeared, while a new opening appeared above her belly. She knew not what to do.     Among the scholars, one named Eun was the brightest and the most learned, and he realized what was happening.     He begged Unchi. “In our blindness, we committed an offense against you. Please forgive us.”     “Don’t worry. Everything will return to normal.”     The scholars and courtesan touched themselves again and were relieved to find that everything had returned to before.     They expressed their gratitude. “We did not realize that a heavenly personage had descended among us, and we nearly paid for our ignorance by turning into freaks.”     Unchi flew on a cloud to the south until he came across a group of people who were talking anxiously among themselves.     “Jang the warehouse keeper is a good and filial man, so it would be a tragedy if he died unjustly.”     When Unchi came down and asked for the story, one of them informed him, “There is a man named Jang Gyechang who works as a warehouse keeper at the Ministry of Taxation. He is a decent man who is good to his parents, and he also likes to help the unfortunate. But he made a mistake while writing an official report, so he ended up being blamed for the shortage of two thousand coins at the warehouse, which he did not take. We are sorry that he will be punished for it.”     Unchi felt pity, so he rode his cloud and flew to the place where official punishments were administered. There, he saw a young man being brought forth in a wagon with his young wife following while weeping. When Unchi asked around, he was told that the man was indeed Jang Gyechang. A prison guard took the prisoner down from the wagon and announced that it was time for his punishment.     Unchi turned himself into wind and gathered Jang Gyechang and his wife to carry them into the sky. The official in charge of the punishment was astonished by the occurrence, so he reported it to the king, who also took fright, as did all his officials who thought it all very strange.     Unchi brought the Jang couple home, where he fed them medicine, which awakened them from an unconscious state. As they had no idea what was going on, Unchi explained everything that had happened, also informing his mother.     Unchi took to the sky once more and flew about until he came across another person who was weeping.     When Unchi asked what was the matter, the man answered him, “My name is Han Jaegyeong. My father just passed away, and I have a seventy-year-old mother, but I have no money to pay for the funeral or to take care of my mother. That is why I am crying.”     Unchi took pity on him, so he reached into his sleeve and took out a scroll.     “Take this scroll, hang it up at your house, and address it by the name of Gojik. If someone answers, ask for a hundred nyang1  and it will be given to you. Use the money to start a business, and then ask for just one nyang per day, and use that to take care of your mother. But if you ask for more than that, a calamity will fall upon you, so beware.”     Jaegyeong felt both hopeful and skeptical of Unchi, so he asked for his name and where he lived before he went home. When he unrolled the scroll, he found no writing on it but a drawing of a big house with a locked gate and a young boy standing before it. Just to see what would happen, the man called out, “Gojik.” The young boy answered and stepped out of the picture. When the astonished Jaegyeong asked for a hundred nyang, the boy took out the money and placed it in front of him. He subsequently started a business with it, and he called out “Gojik” every day to ask for one more nyang.     One day, Jaegyeong had the need for more money, so he thought to himself, “What harm would it be if I asked to borrow a hundred nyang?”     So he summoned Gojik and spoke to him. “I need a hundred nyang, so lend it to me.”     When Gojik refused, Jaegyeong tried numerous times to persuade him. The boy went back into the picture without replying and unlocked the gate to the house before going inside. Jaegyeong became angry, so he went into the picture himself, kicked open the gate, and followed him in.     At this time, the minister of taxation was getting ready to begin his work for the day, when an official came to him.     “There’s noise of someone inside the warehouse, which is very strange.”     The minister thought it odd as well, so he summoned his lower officials and sent them to the warehouse. They opened the door and found a man holding coins, which surprised them.     “How did you get in here, you thief?”     The officials then put him under arrest and reported the incident to the minister, who had the prisoner brought before him. When Jaegyeong was forced to prostrate himself below a stone staircase, only then did he realize that he was no longer at his house but at a government building.     Jaegyeong spoke out in astonishment. “How did I come to this place? Is this a dream or reality?”     The minister addressed him. “For the crime of sneaking into the warehouse to steal money, you deserve to die. If you seek mercy, reveal the identities of your fellow outlaws.”     Jaegyeong told the minister everything he knew, revealing his encounter with Jeon Unchi. The minister questioned him, “When did you see Jeon Unchi?”     “It’s been four or five months, near where I live in the southwest.”     After the minister put Jaegyeong in prison, he went to the warehouse, where he found the place empty of money but chock-full of frogs. Another warehouse was found to be full of yellow snakes but no coins. The enraged minister reported this to the king, who gathered his officials to discuss the matter.     At this time, officials in charge of other warehouses came and reported, “All the rice in the warehouse turned into insects.”     Officials from military bases reported, “All the weapons have disappeared, replaced by stacks of tree branches.”     Palace maidens reported, “All the hairpieces of palace maidens turned into golden crows and flew away, and a tiger appeared in the inner palace and killed a few servants.”     The frightened king selected expert archers and dispatched them to the inner palace, where they found all the palace maidens there riding tigers. They couldn’t bring themselves to kill them, so they returned to the king, who became enraged and ordered them to put them all down. The archers were about to shoot them when a black cloud suddenly appeared, enwrapped the tiger-riding maidens, and took them up to the sky.     The king spoke. “This is all the work of Jeon Unchi, so there will be no peace in the country until he is caught.”     The minister of taxation addressed him, “The criminal who has been imprisoned is in league with Jeon Unchi, so I bid you to put him to death.”     The king was about to order Jaegyeong’s execution, when a great wind suddenly blew and the prisoner disappeared without a trace, which was also Unchi’s doing. —      Unchi was wandering around when he happened to see one of the notices put up on the four gates of the capital calling for his surrender. He scoffed at it at first, but he ended up going to the entrance to the royal palace.     “Your lowly subject Jeon Unchi has come to confess his guilt.”     When the Office of the Royal Secretariat reported this to the king, he thought to himself, “This wretch possesses such powerful magic, he is liable to cause much mischief everywhere he goes. It would be a good idea to appease him by giving him an official position in the government. If he persists in making trouble after that, then I’ll have him executed.”     So he summoned Unchi to court.     Unchi prostrated himself before the monarch, who spoke to him, “Do you know your crime?”     At those words, Unchi flattened himself even more to the ground. “I have committed acts for which I deserve to be executed a hundred times, so I can make no excuse for myself.”     “In consideration of your talents, I have decided to pardon you and grant you an official position. So you must fulfill your duties with utmost loyalty.”     He made Unchi a royal messenger, putting him in charge of the office that took care of the horses and carriages used by the king’s envoys. Unchi expressed much gratitude before leaving his presence.     After Unchi began working there, he noticed that the other royal messengers acted harshly toward their subordinates, often hitting them with clubs. One day, Unchi casually picked up a stone pillar and smashed it into their clubs, hitting their hands as well. That caused them such pain that they stopped abusing their subordinates.     A few months later, the other royal messengers sent their servants to Unchi with a demand that he show them respect by serving them a meal.     Unchi replied, “Tell them to come out to the nearby beach tomorrow at dawn.”     The next day, all the royal messengers rode their horses and went to the beach, where they found tents of blue canopies with colorful sitting mats arranged decorously inside. Sonorous music was playing, and a plentiful feast was laid out. It was all a magnificent scene.     After everyone sat down to be served food and liquor, Unchi spoke. “All of you are here to enjoy yourself, but it would be no fun without women to keep us company. I know some women I used to be close to. Should I bring them here?”     Many who were already getting happily drunk spoke out. “Who would have known that such a junior official would demonstrate such enthusiasm? Do as you will.”     So Unchi took a servant and headed for the south gate of the capital.     Many talked about him. “That junior official is so talented, I bet he could handle the most fearsome criminal.” And so they praised him.     Unchi returned not long after, accompanied by many women whom he directed to stand outside the tents. He then had more food on large tables to be brought for the pleasure of the royal messengers.     Unchi spoke to them. “As per your wish, I brought all these women here. How about I have them sit by all of you so that you can enjoy yourself with them?”     When many assented happily, Unchi brought one woman and had her sit in front of the highest-ranking official. “Stay here and serve him well.”     He then led the rest of the women and had them sit by the other officials, who only realized then that they were their wives. They were afraid to reveal what they had expected, so they kept quiet and kept their discontent to themselves. After they were done with the meal, they quickly left on their horses, which mystified their servants.     When the royal messengers returned home, all of them found their households in disarray, as they were beset by family members, some who came to deliver terrible news, some who were on their way to the pharmacy to obtain medicine, some who were bringing a doctor who practiced acupuncture, and some who were lamenting a death. When the officials questioned them, they found out that all their wives had died.     When a royal messenger named Kim came home, a servant girl informed him, “Your wife was fixing some clothes when she suddenly left this world.”     Official Kim spoke out in rage, “That Jeon brought her to the party on the beach and reduced her to a courtesan. How could the wife of a nobleman bear such an insult? I am sure to lose my position now, and my family will be dishonored as well. How can I bear the sorrow of this calamity?”     A servant girl came in a hurry. “Your wife has woken up.”     The official’s rage died down as he ran to the woman’s chamber, where his wife sat up and spoke to him. “A while ago, I fell asleep and saw a man in a red robe who took me away. Then a servant in yellow clothing covered me with a veil, put me on a horse, and led me to some place. There, I saw many women who were respectable wives like myself. Then that wretch Jeon the royal messenger grabbed me by the back of my head and pushed me in front of you and said ‘serve him well.’ He then had the other women sit next to officials. When all the royal messengers finished their meal, they all saw how angry you were as you got up and left on your horse. So they also left without looking back and scattered, all in rage. I and all the other women had no idea what was happening, so we were on the verge of panic. Then I woke up and realized that it was all a dream. Everyone in the household seemed to be lamenting because they thought I was dead. What is happening?”     When Official Kim heard this, he did not know what to say.     All the other royal messengers were filled with indignation. “That wicked criminal Jeon Unchi wormed his way into the royal palace, and now he dares to humiliate us all. We should allay our anger by killing that bastard!”     After Unchi tricked the royal messengers, he thought to himself, “The king did pardon me of my crime and gave me an official position, so I should be grateful for his great favor. I should turn over a new leaf and serve him with utmost loyalty.”     And so he concentrated on fulfilling his duties well, taking good care of the horses under his charge until they gained weight and became healthy. The court became pleased with his work. —      At Gadal Mountain, there was a man by the name of Yeom Jun who was extremely courageous and greatly skilled in martial arts. He gathered thousands of bandits and set up a lair in the mountain, from where they went forth to pillage villages and assault towns to steal weapons and provisions, murdering people in the process. As a result, every town in the area became frightened.     When the provincial governor sent a report of these events to the king, he became concerned enough that he summoned his officials to discuss the matter. “These bandits are so strong and flourishing, so who can destroy them?”     No one replied at first, but then one official stepped forward. “My gratitude for the favors Your Majesty has granted me knows no bounds. I may not be a person of much talent, but I would like to allay Your Majesty’s concern by cutting off the head of Yeom Jun.”     When the king looked up, he saw that it was none other than Jeon Unchi. He was greatly pleased.     He questioned the other officials. “What do you think?”     They all thought it was the right course, so the king spoke to Unchi, “How many soldiers do you need?”     “They say that the bandits are very powerful, so I think it would be best if I went by myself and spied on them first. Soldiers could be deployed later.”     The king assented and granted him a sword with permission to proceed according to his will. Unchi expressed his gratitude and left the court.     The next day, Unchi rode a cloud and went southwest to visit his mother.     When he told her that he received the command of the king and was on his way to assess the strength of the bandits, she cautioned him, “It would be dangerous to go there not knowing the strengths and weaknesses of your enemy. Be very careful as you fulfill the king’s mission.”     Unchi returned to Gyeongseong, where he took ten or so police officers and set off at dawn. When they arrived at a provincial office, Unchi ordered the men to stay there for the time being. He then took up his sword and, with one shake of his body, turned himself into an eagle. He flew to Gadal Mountain, where he saw Yeom Jun riding a white horse beneath a large parasol. He was accompanied by many beautiful maidens in colorful dresses and about a hundred servants.     Yeom gave out an order. “Today is the day that chieftains from all eight provinces return. Tomorrow, slaughter ten large cows and prepare a feast.”     Unchi considered Yeom Jun and saw that he was a man of grand appearance with a reddish complexion, eyes that were like large water drops, and a beard that looked like needles tied together.     Unchi came up with a stratagem and gathered leaves, which he transformed into so many spirit soldiers. He armed them with spears and swords and organized them in a well-defended camp with flying flags. He then put on a helmet with two phoenixes engraved on it and a red military coat, mounted a black-and-white horse, and proceeded to the enemies’ position. He burst through the entrance to their lair, where he found a firmly locked gate. Unchi cast a spell, which forced the gate to open up by itself, and rode through to find a bustling place full of brightly colored houses. After he looked around a bit, he turned himself into an eagle again and flew to an enclosed garden, where he found Yeom Jun sitting on a golden chair with his chieftains all around him and a hundred or so beautiful maidens standing behind them, serving them liquor.     Unchi cast another spell, which brought countless eagles that covered the sky. They came down, picked up the tables in front of the chieftains, and bore them into the air. Then a great wind blew sand and pebbles all around, knocking down all the terrified people who could not even open their eyes. Canopies and floor mats flew into the sky as well. Yeom Jun became so disoriented that all he could do was climb up an incline and hold on to a tree stump while his soldiers tumbled through the air holding pieces of meat and cake, some of them vomiting in fright.     Everything was in chaos from the Hour of the Snake2  to the Hour of the Horse, until Yeom Jun regained enough composure to look around and see that snow was falling in great profusion. Before he knew it, the snow had accumulated to a full gil.3  As none could move or see, they were on the verge of panic, but then the wind suddenly ceased, and all the snow disappeared without a trace.      Yeom Jun went to the main hall of his headquarters and rang a large bell, summoning all his soldiers.     They all spoke of the strange occurrences and argued over their meaning, until a soldier came and reported, “A general leading an army has broken through the east gate and is coming inside.”     Yeom Jun, in shock, ordered his men to go and ascertain the situation before he picked up a spear and went forth on a horse.     When Unchi saw him, he shouted at him, “What a lowly wretch you are, using your strength and ruthlessness to pillage villages and murder people. I mean to capture every single one of you ratlike bastards, so if you fear for your life, surrender at once and accept the will of heaven.”     At that, Yeom Jun replied in rage, “I am following the will of heaven and the desire of the common people in seeking to topple the unrighteous king and save the multitudes who have fallen into misery. So how dare you get in my way!”     And he charged forward.     The two of them fought on horseback, exchanging blows of sword and spear in tens of rounds. Yeom Jun’s mighty spear blocked the light of the sun, while Unchi’s swift sword emitted light that produced a rainbow in the air. It was like a pair of tigers fighting over food in a mountain, or a pair of dragons over a pearl in the ocean. Both warriors became increasingly alert, so neither could overcome the other. Finally, it became so dark that gongs sounded from both camps, and the two of them fell back with their respective armies.     When Yeom Jun returned to his camp, his chieftains praised him. “Despite the surprise of the calamity that fell on us, you fought well against that tigerlike warrior. Heaven must be on your side. But the enemy also seems to be a man of great courage, so we bid you to take care.”     Yeom Jun laughed. “He may be courageous, but I have no fear of him. I will surely capture him tomorrow and march on the capital.”     The next day, he opened the camp’s gate and went forth to shout out, “Come out quickly and face me and my blade. I swear that a victor will emerge on this day.”     As he then dashed about, Unchi came riding out in fury, twirling his sword in a dance as he headed straight for Yeom Jun. Sword and spear clashed thirty or so times, Yeom Jun’s skill with the spear proving flawless.     Unchi thought to himself, “I can’t beat Yeom Jun through combat alone.”     With a shake of his body, he raised himself into the air but left a phantom image of his body behind to keep fighting Yeom Jun.     He shouted at his foe, “I have never killed anyone, but I see no choice to put an end to one who dares to defy the will of heaven. So don’t blame me for your demise.”     Unchi was about to strike Yeom Jun with his sword, when he stopped to think. “I should not kill someone so casually. I should capture him alive.”     From the air, he made his sword shine as he shouted, “Behold my power!”     Yeom Jun looked up in surprise and saw a massive cloud bursting with lightning, which was actually light coming out of Unchi’s sword. Yeom Jun became pale with fright and tried to ride back to his camp but then found his way blocked by Unchi with his sword. Another Unchi chased him from behind, and two more Unchis appeared at his left and right to surround him. Yet another Unchi came flying down on a cloud, swinging his sword in a dance as he prepared to strike Yeom Jun in the head. When Yeom became so disoriented that he fell off his horse, Unchi came down from the cloud and ordered the other Unchis to bring up his soldiers to restrain Yeom Jun and take him to their camp. Unchi then rode into the enemy camp, where all the chieftains and soldiers, having witnessed Yeom Jun’s capture, surrendered by binding their own hands together.     Unchi ordered them to prostrate themselves before him, but he spoke in a gentle manner. “Since you have engaged in acts of treason against the country, you deserve to be executed a hundred times. But I will grant you a special pardon, so go back to your hometowns, farm the land, and become good subjects.”     The chieftains all bowed their heads twice and scattered. This was reminiscent of the time Jang Jabang, the meritorious official of the Han dynasty, scattered the enemy soldiers of the Kingdom of Cho at Gyemyeong Mountain.4  On a moonlit night of autumn, he had the song of their homeland sung sadly, which made the Cho men from the Gangdong region homesick.5      Unchi went to Yeom Jun’s dwelling place and released the hundred or so beautiful maidens, allowing them to return home. He then returned to the camp, where he sat down on the commander’s chair and ordered that Yeom Jun be brought to him.     He reprimanded Yeom in a loud voice. “With all your talents and courage, you should have served the king with utmost loyalty, thereby earning royal favor for generations of your family. That is the righteous way. But you dared to act in a treasonous manner by causing disturbances across the country. There can be no pardon for that.”     Unchi ordered a soldier to take him outside the camp’s gate and behead him, at which point Yeom Jun begged plaintively for his life. “Mine is a crime that is deserving of the execution of three generations of my family, but if you would show benevolence and spare my life, I swear to mend my ways and follow you.”     Unchi replied, “If you are truly repentant, that would be a good thing.”     He ordered his soldier to unbind Yeom and consoled him before letting him return to his original home. He then gathered his spirit soldiers and sent a report to the king of his victory. When he returned to the royal palace and bowed down before the king, his sovereign questioned him on how he had defeated his enemy. After Unchi related everything to him, the king praised him profusely and gave him many awards. —      Upon Unchi’s return, all the government officials praised him for his achievement, except for those of the Office of the Royal Messengers, none of whom came to see him. This was because they still hated him for the humiliation he had inflicted on them at the party at the beach. So Unchi decided to trick them again.     One day, at the fourth watch,6  the moon was shining brightly and there was not a single cloud in the sky. Unchi rode on a many-colored cloud and summoned a warrior spirit known as the Yellow Turban Strongman as well as all kinds of goblins.     He addressed the warrior spirit, “Go quickly and bring me all the royal messengers.”     The spirit received the order and presently brought them one by one.     The frightened officials prostrated themselves on the ground and looked around at the most terrifying sight of ghosts and goblins all over the place.     Unchi reprimanded them in a loud voice. “I played a trick on you once by briefly humiliating your wives, but is that any reason to hate me so much as to treat me like dirt? I had planned a while ago to send all of you to the underworld, but I got busy fulfilling my duty as an official in the Heavenly Realm by night and an official of the earthly government by day, so I put it off. But now I feel obliged to send you down to suffer for your arrogance and contemptuous behavior.”     Unchi then summoned the Yellow Turban Strongman. “Take these criminals and turn them over to the King of the Underworld. After they spend eighty thousand years there, they are to be reincarnated as animals.”     When the royal messengers heard those words, they shook so badly in fright that it felt as if their souls were leaving their bodies.     They begged sorrowfully. “Out of our ignorance, we have done wrong. But please consider our bond as fellow officials and pardon us.”     Unchi thought for a long time before he replied, “It is the right course for me to send you to the underworld to suffer, but considering that we were close once, I will pardon you for now. But I may change my mind depending on what I see in the future. Send them away!”     At that moment, all the royal messengers woke up from a dream. They had sweated so much that their blankets were all wet, and their minds were in a disoriented state. When they got together and spoke of their dreams, they realized that they were the same. After that, they all treated Unchi with utmost respect. —      One day, the king summoned the minister of taxation and queried him. “You told me before that all the money at the ministry was transformed into other things. What is the situation now?”     The minister replied, “Nothing has changed.”     As the king became concerned, Unchi stepped forward and spoke. “I bid you to allow me to thoroughly investigate the strange occurrence at the warehouses.”     When the king assented, Unchi and the minister went to the warehouse and opened its door. There, they found all the money restored.     The minister exclaimed in surprise, “I inspected the warehouse yesterday, and it was full of frogs. But all the silver has returned overnight, so how strange this is.”     They opened another warehouse and found all the weapons restored, which surprised everyone once again. When Unchi reported this to the king, he was pleased and guessed that it was all the work of Unchi’s magic.   To be continued in the next issue. The Big Book of Classic Fantasy (Vintage Books, 2019) Ed. Ann and Jeff VanderMeer Trans. Minsoo Kang   Copyright © 2019 Vintage Translation copyright © 2019 Minsoo Kang Reprinted with permission from Vintage. [1]       Nyang: Traditional currency. [2]       Hour of the Snake: Roughly nine o’clock in the morning to eleven. [3]       Gil: A unit for measuring length, a little over 2 meters (6.5 feet). [4]       “Jang Jabang” is Korean for the Chinese strategist “Zhang Zifang” (aka Zhang Liang, ?–189 BCE) who helped Liu Bang establish the Han dynasty in China. “Cho” is Korean for the “Kingdom of Chu,” and “Gyemyeong Mountain” is Korean for “Jiming Mountain” in China. [5]       Gangdong: Korean for the Chinese region Jiangdong. [6]       Fourth watch: Roughly one o’clock in the morning to three.  

  by Anonymous

• 

  The Story of Jeon Unchi

  We’re excited to present to you the epic action-adventure tale of Jeon Unchi, perhaps Korea’s most famous wizard—old Korea’s free-wheeling and mischievous version of Doctor Strange, if you will. This famous classic tale has been adapted in several genres, including the 2009 movie Jeon Woo-chi: The Taoist Wizard. This is the first part of a multi-part series.—Ed.   INTRODUCTION “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is a classic of Korean fiction that incorporates the fantastic into the realistic. Unlike many of the moralistic works that came before it, “Jeon Unchi” is an adventure tale replete with action. Although no one knows who wrote the story, it has the characteristics of popular fiction written for commoners in the Korean vernacular script(hangul) that was produced in the late eighteenth and throughout the nineteenth centuries. Inspired by a historical figure with the slightly different name ofJ eon Uchi (late fifteenth to early sixteenth century) who was reputed to be a master of the mystical arts, “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is the tale of a rebellious magician and has been adapted to the screen as both a Korean drama and a film. Originally published circa 1847, although even that fact isn’t certain, this is the first time this work has been translated into English. Toward the end of the Goryeo dynasty,[1] in the southwestern part of the realm, there lived a gentleman scholar whose family name was Jeon, personal name was Suk, and literary name was Unhwa. Although he came from generations of illustrious statesmen, he had no desire to become a government official himself. So he moved into a mountain where he spent his days studying letters with reverence and occasionally gathering his friends to appreciate the mountains and the rivers, the winds and the moon. And so he came to be known by the people as the Mountain Scholar.         His wife, Lady Choe, was also from a family that produced many high-ranking officials. She was a person of decorous and modest character as well as of beauteous appearance and virtue. The husband and wife treated each other with respect and lived harmoniously together for about ten years, until they came to lament often that they had no child to care for. But then, one day, Lady Choe had a dream in which many clouds descended upon her to reveal in their midst a young boy in blue clothing holding a lotus flower.        The boy bowed twice before speaking to her. “I was a servant to the immortal spirits of the holy mountain of Yeongju, charged with gathering herbs for my masters. But due to an infraction I committed, I have been exiled to the realm of humans, so I bid you to treat me with affection.”        Lady Choe, filled with joy, was about to ask the child a question when she suddenly woke from the dream. She happily informed Jeon Suk of her vision.        Her husband listened to her and replied. “I felt so sad thinking that we would remain childless due to some unfortunate fate. But this dream you had surely means that heaven will bless us with a precious child.”        So they rejoiced. And sure enough, Lady Choe showed signs of pregnancy that month.        On a day beforethe passage of ten months, auspicious clouds surrounded their house and filled the place with a sweet fragrance. Jeon Suk cleaned the place thoroughly and waited for the birth. Lady Choe, disoriented from birth pangs, opened her eyes to see the boy from the dream enter into her. The joy she felt at the vision cleared her thoughts, and she soon gave birth to a wondrous boy. Jeon Suk, filled with happiness, took care of his wife and examined his son. The boy was of magnificent appearance as well as sturdy spirit.        Jeon Suk spoke out. “This child was seen in a cloud, so let us give him the name of Unchi, or ‘cloud-sent,’ the formal name of Mongjungseon, or ‘a holy spirit in a dream,’ and the household name of Gusipja.”[2]        Jeon Suk thought Unchi very precious, and his love for him knew no bounds.        Once Unchi grew up and reached the age of nine, Jeon Suk began to teach him the letters. The boy turned out to be so bright that learning one thing allowed him to understand ten things, which made his father love him even more.        Unfortunately, after Unchi turned ten, Jeon Suk suddenly fell ill and every medicine proved to be ineffectual. How sad it was! As it has always been the case, a happy event is often followed by a tragic one.        Jeon Suk summoned his wife and spoke to her. “It won’t be long before I depart for the next world. My greatest regret is that I won’t get to see my child grow up. I bid you to overcome your sorrow and raise Unchi well. I wish you much fortune, and I hope you will properly perform the rituals of reverence for our ancestors. May you live a long life without any illness.”        His wife could not reply as she shed tears until she fell unconscious.        When Jeon Suk left this world a few days later, his wife hit herself on the chest and convulsed her entire body as she lamented. Unchi kept fainting as he thought ofhis father, whom he regarded as high as heaven, and the kindness he had shown him. His mother became concerned, so she consoled him even in midst of her own mourning. Although Unchi was still young, he took great care to perform all the funeral rituals properly as his father was buried at a gravesite on a mountain. He then displayed laudable filial piety in helping his mother and undergoing the three-year mourning period, earning the praise of the people of their village.   —   Jeon Suk’s friend Yun Gong was a scholar who had mastered the world’s learning so thoroughly that he could see far into the future. So Unchi picked up his books and went to Yun Gong to study under him.        One day, Unchi got up early and was walking to the school when he came across a woman dressed in mourning clothes, weeping by a forest of thick-leaved bamboo trees. He pretended not to see her and went on to learn the letters with Yun Gong, but on his way back home he saw that she was still crying at the same spot. He became curious, so he approached her. She was about fifteen or sixteen, and her jade-like beauty utterly captivated Unchi.        Unchi spoke to her in a gentle manner. “Where did you come from, and why are you crying so sadly from morning to the middle of the day?”        The girl stopped weeping and replied in embarrassment, “I live below this mountain, and I am crying because something terrible has happened to me.”        She would not reveal the source of her sadness, so Unchi came even closer and earnestly asked her to tell him of her troubles until she finally relented.        “I am the daughter of Maeng the royal assistant. I lost my mother when I was five years old, and then a stepmother came into our household. She has been telling false tales of my wrongdoing to my father because she wants to see me die. I cry night and day, wondering if I should kill myself, but I cannot bring myself to do it. So there’s nothing I can do but weep.”        Unchi felt a great pity for her.        “Heaven alone should decide whether one lives or dies. Think of your body as a precious gift from your parents and find a way to live on.”        When Unchi took her beauteous hand, she accepted his gesture without hesitation. And so they came together and joyfully shared their affection for each other. When it came time for them to part, they did so with sadness.        The next day, when Unchi came to the place on his way to Yun Gong, the girl appeared and called out to him. “I have been waiting for my young master for a long time.”        Unchi took her hand with great joy, and they spent some time together.        “Wait for me here,” he told her before going off to school.        When Yun Gong saw Unchi, he spoke to him. “On your way here, you committed an unseemly act with a woman, who is actually a fox demon in disguise. She put a curse on you, so no matter how much you study, you will never fathom the ways of heaven and earth or the harmonious principles of the universe. If you want the curse lifted, go back now and see that woman again. You will find that she is keeping a marble in her mouth. Take that marble away from her and bring it to me.”        Unchi followed Yun Gong’s order and returned to the place where he had met the girl. When he saw her, he took her hand and led her into the bamboo forest, where they came together again. As they did so, he noticed that she indeed had a marble in her mouth. Unchi asked her to let him see it, but she refused. Unchi made a serious face.        “You are a maiden from a good family and I am a young bachelor. I thought we should tell our parents about us so that we can be together like a pair of faithful ducks that mate for life and live a hundred years or so in each other’s company. But I suppose that you are not interested in that.”        Hearing those words, the girl felt overcome with love for Unchi, so she rolled the marble out with her tongue and put it in his mouth. After a while, she asked for it back, but Unchi refused to return it. She pestered him, and then tried to forcibly open his mouth to retrieve it. At that point, Unchi swallowed the marble. She searched inside his mouth, but when she realized that it was gone, she got up without a word and left the forest while wailing in sorrow. Unchi felt ashamed, so he went to Yun Gong and told him the whole story.        Yun Gong spoke to him. “You have eaten the soul of a fox demon, so you will understand the ways of astrology and geomancy. You will also become the master of seventy-two spiritual powers. I also predict that in the fourth lunar month of this year, you will pass the preliminary civil examination and become a literary licentiate. After that, you must handle yourself carefully.”   —   At the age of fifteen, Unchi’s literary skills surpassed that of Yi Taebaek[3] and his calligraphy rivaled that of Wang Huiji.[4] After he had eaten the soul of the fox demon, he also became the master of thirty-six magical powers of transformation. The preliminary government civil examination was held at this time, so Unchi submitted his writings to the judges. He not only qualified but also attained first place among the candidates. After he made the rounds of visiting dignitaries and relatives for four days, he returned to his mother, who felt both joyful and sad.        “When your father was alive, he was averse to taking the civil examinations. But how could I not be happy to see you achieve such a distinction.”        Time went on, and when it became spring, Unchi set off to tour the great mountains and rivers of the land. He came upon a Buddhist temple called Segeum, where he found the place of about a thousand rooms covered in cobwebs and empty of people, which he thought strange. He then went to another temple named Seongrim, where he met a few old monks.        When he asked them about Segeum Temple, one of them answered him. “Segeum Temple and Seongrim Temple here used to be the home of about a thousand monks, but four or five years ago something came over the two places, and they couldn’t bear to live there anymore. They all scattered to unknown places, so Segeum Temple is now empty, and Seongrim Temple only has us old monks.”        “This must be the work of some evil spirit.”        Unchi returned home and related the story of Segeum Temple to his mother.        “You must be wary of places like that,” Lady Choe told her son.        After the conversation, Unchi spent his time farming and taking care of his mother. But then, one day, Unchi told his mother that he would go to Segeum Temple to study for the final civil examination.        “You told me that the temple has evil spirits that harm people. Why would you go there?”        “What is evil can never overcome what is righteous, so how could such spirits harm me? Please do not worry.”        He quickly prepared his travel gear and headed for Segeum Temple. On his way, he came to the top of a rough cliff, where he encountered an old man dressed in worn clothing and leaning on a staff.        When Unchi greeted him politely, the old man spoke to him. “And who might you be, taking the trouble to greet the likes of me in such a polite manner?”        “How could I carelessly pass by such a senior personage?”        “I have been waiting here for a long time so that I can give you something.”        The old man took out of his sleeve some rope and a piece of paper with a talismanic symbol on it.        “A time will come when you will need to use these.”        With those words, the old man disappeared. Unchi expressed his gratitude toward the air and proceeded to Segeum Temple. There, he ate dinner prepared for him by the monks of Seongrim Temple and then lit some candles to read. At around the third watch,[5] the door to his room suddenly opened, and a woman walked in to sit next to him. Unchi saw that she was only about fourteen years old but was so beautiful that she evoked the vision of a peony flower with morning dew on its leaves. And her bearing was so exquisite that it suggested willow leaves swaying in a spring breeze. It was enough to melt the heart of the toughest man.        Unchi felt disoriented with desire as he spoke to her. “Where did you come from, and how did you end up here so late at night?”        “I am a respectable woman from a noble family who was accompanying her husband on his way to take up the position of magistrate in Jangyang District. But we were way laid by bandits who killed everyone in our household and stole all our things. Only I survived and managed to run away. I hid in the mountains during the day and traveled homeward by night, but then I saw the light from this window and thought there must be people living here. From the outside, I could hear the sound of a man reading, but I am in such a pitiful state at the moment that I abandoned all sense of propriety and came in. If you would please save me, I promise to never forget what you did for me.”        “Fortune and misfortune are things that are beyond our control. You were beset by bandits, but you managed to escape. Under the circumstances, it is fortunate that you came upon this place. Where is your home, and how old are you?”        “Our house is outside the South Gate of Gyeongseong,[6] and I am seventeen years old.”        “We are of the same age. Gyeongseong is about three hundred ri[7] from here. It worries me that it’s too far for a woman to travel by herself.”        The woman replied in a plaintive voice. “Please take pity on me and allow me to stay the nigh there.”        “Because I am from a poor family, I couldn’t get myself a wife. I thought that if I am fortunate enough to pass the final civil examination next spring, I would be able to get married. But meeting you on this night, I think that this must be fate. How about we pledge to spend the rest of our lives in each other’s company?”        When the woman heard those words, she bowed her head and did not say anything. In the candlelight, her modesty made her look even more beautiful.        Unchi pushed aside his reading table and spoke to her. “I see that I have upset you with my words, which shames me. I bid you to think deeply and make a proper decision about your future.”        The woman thought for a while before she replied. “I may be in a precarious situation now, but I am still a member of a noble family. I would rather die than allow myself to be dishonored. But your words have filled me with such gratitude that I cannot fully express it in words. If you promise to someday avenge the wrong I have suffered, how could I not follow your will?”        Unchi thought their minds were in agreement, so he lay with her.        “This is a wonderful day, so let us share liquor like a groom and bride and pledge our union to the gods of heaven and earth.”        Unchi poured some liquor from a bamboo bottle into a cup and drank it, and then poured some for the woman. When Unchi tried to give her more, she firmly refused.        “Why don’t you drink some more?” Unchi said.        As he insisted, she drank another. But when Unchi took some more and tried to give her another, she refused again. Unchi made an upset expression.        “A woman should obey a man, so why are you acting in such an improper manner?”        The woman saw how upset Unchi was, so she forced herself to drink until she became disoriented. When she finally lay down and began to snore, Unchi took her clothes off and wrote a magic spell on her chest with red ink. No trace of the writing appeared on her, so he became certain that she was a fox demon in disguise. He used the rope he was given to bind her hands and feet together, and then put a pick to the crown of her head and pounded it down with a hammer.        The woman woke up in fright and exclaimed, “Noble sir, what are you doing?”        “You evil fox demon! I know you committed heinous acts in this temple and murdered people. To prevent you from causing further mischief, I have been waiting here to kill you!”        Unchi hammered the pick into her head again until the demon could not stand the pain and revealed its true form.        When the golden-furred fox with nine tails begged Unchi for its life, he addressed her. “If you give me your fox soul, I will let you live.”        “But my soul is in my belly. If you spare me, I will give you three books of Heavenly Wisdom, which is much better than a fox soul.”        Since Unchi was a scholar first and foremost, he became glad at the mention of such books.        “Where are they?”        “They are in my cave, so if you release me, I’ll go get them.”        Unchi angrily hammered at the pick again.        “If you unbind my feet, I’ll take you there and give you the books.”        Unchi thought that would work, so he unbound the fox demon’s feet and followed it to its cave. It was at the side of a great mountain, below a massive rock. Inside, he found a place full of blue-green pine and bamboo trees, as well as a calmly flowing stream illuminated by a fair light that also revealed countless shimmering dwellings.        As Unchi forced the fox demon to walk in front of him, maidens dressed in colorful clothing came out.        “Our young lady has returned from her hunt, so we are sure to eat well today.”        Overcome with rage, Unchi beat those demons to death before hammering the nine-tailed foxwith his pick yet again. The creature could not bear it, so it called out toothers.        “Go quickly to my box of precious objects and bring three books that are in it.”        A demon hurriedly brought the books.        When Unchi examined them, he could tell that they indeed contained Heavenly Wisdom, but he could not read their characters. He told the nine-tailed fox to teach him.        “I will teach you only if you unbind my hands.”        When he raised his hammer, the nine-tailed fox relented.        Unchi spoke to her without unbinding her hands. “We will go back to the temple.”        They returned to Segeum Temple, where Unchi drank some liquor and learned to read the book of Heavenly Wisdom, the first volume of which he mastered in a single night. Not even a supernatural spirit could fathom such an ability. It was only then that he unbound the fox demon’s hands. He also attached to the first volume the paper with a talismanic symbol he was given.        “I was going to kill you to rid the world of your evil, but you have done me a favor, so I will let you live. Do not engage in unseemly acts ever again.”        The nine-tailed fox bowed to him before leaving.        After some time had passed, a powerful wind suddenly blew open the door, and a voice came shouting from a blue cloud.        “Gusipja! Take the rope with you, but leave the talismanic paper behind.”        Unchi hurried out as the blue cloud flew away. He expressed his gratitude toward the sky and returned to his room. Sometime later, a gentleman arrived outside the temple on a donkey and ascended the stone steps to the building. It was none other than Yun Gong.        After Unchi hurriedly informed him of all that had happened, Yun Gong addressed him. “This is not a book that a scholar should read, so how dare you even look at it?”        Unchi did not know how to reply to that. He then realized that Yun Gong had disappeared without a trace. He looked around in shock and found that one of the books was missing. As he wondered where it could be, he heard the sound of a wailing woman. When he went outside, he saw his former nanny coming with her hair undone.        She spoke to him while weeping. “Your mother was perfectly fine yesterday, but she passed away in the night. You must hurry home.”        Unchi, in great shock, looked for his books so that he could take them with him, but then he realized that both the nanny and another volume had disappeared.        Unchi spoke out in rage. “Those evil demons thought me so low as to trick me like this, so I will go to their cave, retrieve my books, and get rid of them all.”        He went forth with his pick and hammer, but he found the mountains and valleys so rough and the road so long that he could not find the cave. He went back and thought to himself. “I don’t know the full extent of those demons’ magical powers, so I shouldn’t stay here.”        So he gathered his things and returned home. Because he had put the talismanic paper on the first volume of the book of Heavenly Wisdom, the demons could not steal it back as they did with the others.   —   Once Unchi studied the book of Heavenly Wisdom, he became the master of all forms of magic. He also lost interest in taking the final civil examination.        “It will take too long to provide my mother with a comfortable life by becoming a government official.”        And he came up with an alternative plan.        With one shake of his body, he gave himself the appearance of a divine official of the Heavenly Realm. He then summoned many-colored clouds and rode them all the way to the royal residence of Daemyeong Palace, where he set himself down while spreading an air that filled the place with a sense of holiness. The palace servants ran about in panic, not knowing what to do, until some of them finally informed the king.        “An event of extreme rarity has occurred.”        The king, in great surprise, questioned the servants about what they had seen.        Out of the thick clouds, Unchi sent forth a heavenly servant boy in a blue suit to announce his coming.        “King of Goryeo, receive the command of the Great Jade Emperor of the Heavenly Realm.”        The king ordered that a carpet be laid out and a table with an incense burner placed on it. He then proceeded out to meet the heavenly official who was standing upright in the midst of many-colored clouds, dressed in a red robe, wearing a golden crown, and accompanied by servant boys at his sides.        After the king bowed down to him four times and then prostrated himself on the ground, Unchi spoke to him. “A palace in the Heavenly Realm has become old and worn. In order to make repairs, I came down to the world of humans and visited many countries to inform people of the upcoming work. I have received from them all the tributes that are needed for the construction, except for a girder of gold. The Great Jade Emperor knows that your kingdom is rich in gold, so he commands that you submit a golden girder by the seventh day of the seventh month, on the Hour of the Horse.[8] It has to be ten cheok[9] and five chon[10] long, and three cheok and two chon thick. If you do not submit it by that time, a great calamity will fall upon you.”        When he finished speaking, a serene tune was heard as the many-colored clouds flew away to the south. The king bowed down four times in the direction, then summoned all his officials to discuss the matter.        They spoke to him. “Official pronouncements should be sent out to all eight provinces of the land, ordering the gathering of gold to fulfill heaven’s commandment. We think that is the right course.”        The king agreed and immediately sent out orders to the provinces to collect gold. When all the necessary metal was brought to the capital, a master craftsman was tasked to fashion the girder in the required dimensions. After it was completed, the king kept his mind and body pure for three days while waiting for the heavenly official to return.        At the end of the three days, in the Hour of the Dragon,[11] many-colored clouds came and filled the palace with a fragrant air before the heavenly official appeared. From either side of him boy servants in blue robes came riding on cranes, picked up the golden girder with metal hooks, and placed it inside the clouds. The clouds then dissipated to the east and the west.        The king went up to the incense table and bowed down four times before returning to his residence. There, his officials congratulated him for concluding the matter successfully.        Because Unchi tricked the king into giving him a golden girder, there was a shortage of gold in the kingdom. He knew that if he tried to sell the precious object, it would draw attention, so he came up with a plan. He cut off just the top part of the girder and took it to a city.        When a police officer saw it, he became suspicious. “Where did you get that gold, and how much is it?”        “It came from a legitimate source, and it is worth five hundred gold pieces.”        “If you tell me where you live, I’ll bring the money to you.”        “I live in the southwestern side of Songak Mountain, and my name is Jeon Unchi.”        After the police officer agreed to meet with Unchi, he went to the government office and reported everything to the governor.        “There has to be some story behind this. We should investigate this matter before arresting the wretch.”        He then gave the police officer five hundred coins and told him to go and buy the gold. The officer immediately went to the southwest and met with Unchi, who sold the gold to him.        The officer returned to the governor, who examined it before exclaiming in surprise, “This is the top part of the golden girder for certain. We’ll arrest the culprit and get the truth out of him before reporting the matter to the king.”        The governor sent a team of policemen led by ten or so officers to the southwest to arrest Unchi. When they came, Unchi served them a sumptuous meal.        “I know you’ve exerted yourself coming all the way here, but I won’t be going with you. Your governor is not powerful enough to bring me in. But if the king himself orders my arrest, then I’ll surrender myself.”        As Unchi sat stock-still, for some reason the officers could not bring themselves to lay their hands on him. So they ended up returning to the city and reporting everything to the governor, who became alarmed. He dispatched five hundred policemen to surround Unchi’s house and sent a report to the king. The governor’s story enraged the monarch, who gathered his officials to discuss the matter before ordering the Office of the State Tribunal to take charge of the case.        Unchi was serving his mother a plentiful meal that he was able to provide with the money he had made, when he heard of the order from the capital city to put him under arrest. He thought a great deal and came up with a stratagem.        When soldiers led by an officer of the State Tribunal arrived, Unchi picked up a water bottle and spoke to his mother. “Quickly, mother, get inside this bottle.”        His mother somehow went in, followed by Unchi himself.        The officer thought it very strange, but he put a plug in the bottle’s opening. As he then traveled to the capital night and day, he could hear a voice coming from inside the container.        “I went in here to avoid all the chaos outside. But someone plugged up the opening, so I’m suffocating. Remove the plug!”        The officer ignored the voice as he finally went before the king and reported everything that had occurred.        The king spoke out. “I’ve heard that Unchi knows magic, but how could he possibly get inside a bottle?”        Unchi’s voice came from the bottle. “It’s so stuffy in here. Please remove the plug.”        When the king realized that Unchi was indeed inside, he asked his officials what he should do.        They answered him. “We don’t know what kind of magic this wretch is capable of, so if we are not careful, he is liable to escape.”        The king ordered oil to be boiled in an iron pot and had the water bottle placed in it.        Unchi spoke out from inside. “Because I was so poor, I have been shivering night and day from the cold. But now that I am in a hot place where I can warm my body, my gratitude knows no end.”        The oil boiled from morning to night until it all dissipated. The king then ordered the bottle to be broken, but when it shattered on the ground, no one appeared. Instead, all the broken pieces hurriedly went before the king. “I am here, your lowly subject Jeon Unchi.”        The alarmed king ordered that the pieces be gathered and boiled in oil once more. He also commanded that Jeon Unchi’s house be destroyed and his land turned into a pond.        Upon his order to arrest Unchi again, his officials spoke up. “This wicked criminal seems hard to catch, so perhaps the best way to avoid further trouble is to put up a notice on all four gates of the city announcing that if Unchi surrenders on his own accord, his crime will be forgiven and he will be given an official position in the government. Once he appears, you could give him a very difficult task. And when he fails to carry it out, you could have him executed then. We believe that this is the right course.”        After the king heard them out, he immediately ordered notices to be put up on the four gates, which read as follows.        “Jeon Unchi committed a great crime against the country, but given his special talents, he will be pardoned and given an official position. So come forth on your own accord.” To be continued in the next issue.   The Big Book of Classic Fantasy (Vintage Books, 2019) Ed. Ann and Jeff VanderMeer Trans. Minsoo Kang   Copyright © 2019 Vintage Translation copyright © 2019 Minsoo Kang Reprinted with permission from Vintage.     [1]       Goryeo dynasty: The kingdom that ruled over the Korean peninsula from 918 to 1392. It is unknown why the author of this story set it in the period, since there are a number of references to Korea during the subsequent Joseon dynasty (1392–1910), including the main character who is a fantasy version of a historical figure with the slightly different name Jeon Uchi, a scholar famed for his magical knowledge who lived in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. There is also the mention of Gyeongseong, which was the capital city of Joseon, rather than Goryeo, and a fantasy version of the historical figure Seo Gyeongdeok(1489–1546). [2]       Gusipja: Unchi’s family name Jeon is signified by the Chinese character 田, meaning “field,” which is a combination of the character for “opening” 口, which is pronounced “gu” in Korean, and the character for the number ten 十, which is pronounced “sip” in Korean. “Ja” is Koreanfor the character 子­, meaning “son.” So the name Gusipja is a rather elaborate way of signifying “son of the Jeon family.” [3]       Yi Taebaek: Korean for the great Chinese poet Li Tai Bai (701–762), one of the seminal figures of the literary golden age of the Tang dynasty (618–907). [4]       Wang Huiji: Korean for the great Chinese calligrapher Wang Xizhi (303–361). [5]       Third watch: Traditionally, a day was divided into twelve units of roughly two modern hours each. The five units of nighttime were called gyeong, or “watch.” The third watch fell into roughly eleven o’clock at night to one. [6]       Gyeongseong: Capital of the kingdom, today’s city of Seoul. [7]       ri: A unit formeasuring distance, a little under 450 meters (around 0.27 miles). [8]       Hour of the Horse: Roughly eleven o’clock in the morning to one in the afternoon. [9]       Cheok: A unit for measuring length, a little bit over 20 centimeters (0.218 yards). [10]     Chon: A unit for measuring length, a tenth of a cheok. [11]     Hour of the Dragon: Roughly seven o’clock in the morning to nine.

  by Anonymous

• 

  A Thorn Hairpin Romance: The Wang Sibung giu gi

  <Introduction> The Wang Sibung giu gi (The story of a fortuitous encounter of Wang Sibung 王十朋奇遇記) is a tale written in Classical Chinese and included in the seventeenth century collection Sindokjae sutaekbon jeongijip (Collection of jeon­gi tales selected by Gim Jip 愼獨齋手澤本傳奇集) [1574–1656]. The collection was introduced to modern scholarship in 1955 by Jeong Byeonguk. The tale follows the marriage, separation, and reunion of a Northern Song (960–1127) couple, Wang Sibung, a talented man from a poor family, and Jeon Ongnang (Ongnyeon), a devoted woman from a rich family. Ongnang chooses Wang as her husband despite the poverty evident in his only betrothal gift, a thorn hairpin, which stands in contrast to a golden hairpin sent by Son Yeogwon, the scion of a rich family. (A thorn hairpin traditionally symbolizes the faithfulness of a couple amid poverty.) Son’s determination to marry Ongnang at any cost causes Ongnang’s initial separation from Wang, while later misunderstandings in communication drive them to believe each other dead. Nonetheless, their untainted faithfulness to each other, evidenced by their respective refusals to remarry, leads to their reunion, in which the thorn hairpin plays a pivotal role. The tale not only praises the unswerving love of the couple but also promotes an ethic that prioritizes virtue over mundane well-being, and the husband-wife relationship over relationships imposed by powerful others. The tale carries a strong moral lesson as the couple is repeatedly tested. Such themes and lessons would have appealed strongly to Korean readers while Ongnang’s chaste image would resonate with that of Chunhyang in the Chunhyang jeon (The Tale of Chunhyang 春香傳). The story itself is a Korean adaptation of the anonymously written Jingchai ji (The Tale of The Thorn Hairpin 荊釵記), a Chinese southern drama (nanxi 南戲) text, also known as an early chuanqi (romance 傳奇) play. Though written in the same format, Wang Sibung giu gi offers a very different read from the original Jingchai ji. Despite having the same main plot and character names, it presents the tale as a typical chuanqi tale, familiar to Korean readers at the time. For instance, it drops many elements seen in the original, including dialogues, direction, musical tones, song-poems, vernacular lexicons, etc. It also simplifies the arrangement of plots and characters, even omitting certain supporting characters and scenes. The removal of these Chinese dramatic elements would have helped Koreans in understanding the text by removing the barrier of cultural and linguistic differences. Korea did not have the same history and traditions for dramatic performance which, in China, had risen to high popularity during the thirteenth century and onward. Koreans’ appropriation of Chinese dramatic tales must therefore have necessitated the rewriting of the tales to suit the literary tastes of a Korean readership. The original author of this Korean adaptation must have been among the few who were versed in both chuanqi  literature and Chinese dramatic texts. In the hands of this anonymous expert, Wang Sibung giu gi was crafted into a well-rounded tale for Koreans, which most would not have noticed was a Korean adaptation of the Jingchai ji without prior knowledge. Apart from the dominant theme of the love and virtue of husband and wife triumphing over socioeconomic differences, physical distance, and the ill will of others, the tale poses questions essential to our understanding not only of the story but of its readership. The tale unquestionably embodies a uniquely Korean way of appropriating a Chinese dramatic tale which provides a clue to understanding the expanding reading and writing practices of late Joseon Koreans and the development of Korean fiction. I hope this translation will help readers to explore the treasured sea of Korean classical literature, in which subtle currents of culture and creativity meet, intertwine, and create new versions that appeal to different readers. <Wang Sibung giu gi - The Story of a Fortuitous Encounter of Wang Sibung> Wang Sibung1 came from the Taewon2 area during the Song dynasty.3 He was a noble man with a scholarly disposition. His father had passed away when Sibung was still young. After that, he lived alone with his widowed mother. Although he was poor, he was always high-spirited. His talent exceeded all others. A neighbor named Jeon Gongwon had a daughter whose childhood name was Ongnyeon. When she turned three years old, her mother died, leaving her in the care of a paternal uncle’s family. Her father was remarried to a woman whose surname was Choe, and lived with her. From early childhood Ongnang4 received a good education at home. She was very skilled at embroidery and learned both poetry and calligraphy.5 Her talent and beauty were extraordinary. She possessed a flowerlike face and her composure resembled the moon’s. She truly was one of the rarest beauties of the country. One day, Gongwon said to his wife, Lady Choe, “Although he is poor now, I believe Wang Sibung will become a great man someday. I want to have him as my son-in-law.” Lady Choe said, “Husband and wife is one of the cardinal relationships in human life. Yet you only see what you can see now: his talents. You have not thought carefully about the problems that will fall upon your daughter’s life with him in the distant future.” Gongwon replied, “My only wish is to find a good son-in-law and I believe I know how to select one. Whether he is rich or poor doesn’t matter.” Having failed to dissuade Gongwon, Lady Choe and Ongnang’s foster mother began preparing for the proposal, sending a matchmaker to Wang Sibung’s house to discuss the marriage. Delighted, Wang Sibung promised to send them a formal marriage request by the chosen day.6 When the day came, however, his poverty left him unable to perform the proper formalities. He sent only a marriage letter and a thorn hairpin to fix the wedding date. In the same neighborhood, there lived a man named Son Yeogwon, who had considerable wealth. Having noticed Ongnang’s talent and beauty, he too sent a marriage proposal to Lady Choe. Lady Choe spoke to her husband, “Whereas the Wang family lives in extreme poverty, the Son family is very rich. Why did you pick a poor man to marry your only daughter, knowing that the rest of her life could be burdened?” Unwilling to give in, she persuaded the Son family to send a golden hairpin and, showing it, again tried to persuade her husband. Her husband decided that he would present the thorn hairpin and the golden one in a cup together and ask his daughter to choose her future husband by picking one. Ongnang said, “Although Wang’s household is poor and the thorn hairpin is a lowly object, it arrived at our house first, so I regard it as something sent by my future husband. Son’s household is certainly prosperous and the golden hairpin is a valuable item, but it arrived later. Having already received a gift from the Wang family, accepting another from the Son family would be equivalent to serving two husbands. Our family would be disgraced beyond repair and draw sneers from our neighbors.” Unable to change her mind, her parents were very upset and sent their daughter on horseback to the Wang family well before the wedding day. From the day she arrived at Wang’s house, Ongnang worked diligently to fulfill her wifely duties and served her mother-in-law very well. Before too long, Wang Sibung set out for the capital city to take the civil examination. Son Yeogwon, although incompetent to take the exam, deliberately took the opportunity to travel with him. They stayed together in the same town before reporting to the examination place. Son did not pass, but Wang won first place. After three days of celebration and marching in the streets, Wang was appointed judge of Joyang and soon his fame spread far and near. Nearby, there was a minister who recognized Wang’s talents and wanted him as his son-in-law. The minister said, “I would like my only daughter to serve you as a wife. What do you think?” Wang rose from his seat to reply, “With the little knowledge I had, I was so fortunate as to pass the civil service examination. My first wife was always by my side during difficult times.7 I am not so heartless as to abandon her just to become a son-in-law to an illustrious family like yours.” Embarrassed, the minister did not speak of it again. When Wang was about to leave for Joyang, Son Yeogwon sent a messenger to him, requesting an audience. [When he met Wang,] Son said deceptively, “I am going to return home tomorrow. Would you like to send a letter home?” Delighted at the offer, Wang wrote a letter to his mother, which read: “[My Dear Mother] Your son was placed first in the civil examination and appointed judge of Joyang. My assignment begins on a certain day. I will dispatch some people and horses to help you and my wife move here. I will devote myself to governing my people and becoming a filial son. Your dutiful son, Wang Sibung.” Wang sealed the letter and handed it to Son. Son, after taking charge of the letter, forged a similar missive saying: “[My Dear Mother] Fortunately, your son passed the civil examination and was appointed judge of Joyang. I also became the son-in-law of a minister. Soon I will head to Joyang with my new bride. I will dispatch some people and horses to help you move here. Please come alone. Send my wife back home to her family. I do not wish to see her ever again . . .” Son enclosed the forgery in the original envelope and sent it on. Wang’s mother was both happy and sad to read the letter. Ongnang asked her mother-in-law what was troubling her. She replied, “As a mother, I am so thrilled to hear that my son became judge of Joyang after passing the examination. However, I am also saddened to learn that he has married another woman, taking her with him, and wants me to send you back to your family.” Ongnang said, “Ever since I joined this family, I have devoted myself to the household and to you. I diligently fetched water and ground grain in the mortar with my own hands. With a faithful heart, I kept you warm during the winter and cool during the summer while treating you to delicious food.8 My husband and I promised that we would grow old together and swore an oath that we would be buried in the same grave.9 After all that, how could he just leave me, breaking off our relationship?” Her mother-in-law could not find it in her heart to leave Ongnang behind to join her son. Ongnang’s parents soon heard the news. They condemned their son-in-law’s words, exclaiming angrily, “Although he was knowledgeable and well versed in writing, our poor son-in-law would not have been able to afford to take the civil examination if our household had not paid for his lodging in the capital city and all the extra expenses of travel. Indeed, it is our support that allowed him to pass the civil examination. Nonetheless, his haughtiness has led him to become the son-in-law of a minister. His cruelty is indescribable!” And they took a coach to bring Ongnang back to their house. They admonished Ongnang, saying, “Your husband married another woman from an influential family and broke off his marriage with you. How could he leave you so harshly?” Ongnang said, “Although my husband is without achievements or good deeds, I don’t believe he is capable of breaking my heart so harshly. No, this could not possibly have been his own idea. I suspect that some deceiver has come between us and is scheming to tear us apart.” Her parents spoke, “Mr. Son also returned from the capital city. Surely, he knows the truth,” and they went to inquire. Son’s information was, of course, consistent with the content of the letter. Her parents soon returned and said to Ongnang, “Son’s words were in agreement. The letter speaks none other than the truth.” Son was a sly and manipulative man. He next gave Lady Choe a large bribe to take his part. She told her husband, “Wang is already remarried to another woman and he clearly indicated in the letter that he did not wish to see Ongnang ever again. Perhaps, we should ask Son to become our son-in-law. That way, we can make Wang feel ashamed, and Ongnang will have someone to depend on. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Ongnang’s father listened attentively. Soon after, while gently consoling her, he suggested to Ongnang that she marry Son. Ongnang responded, “According to Wang Chok,10 a loyal subject does not serve two kings, and a chaste wife does not marry a second husband. That is how I should live. I cannot decide to remarry solely on the grounds of a letter that is so hard to believe. Besides, I never saw the letter and cannot be certain it was truly sent by my husband.” But her parents were determined to have Son as a son-in-law. Unable to resist their will, Ongnang eventually lied, pretending to agree, “How can I defy my parents’ wish?” Her father trusted her words and picked a day for the wedding. On the wedding night, Ongnang took a bath, changed her clothes, and sat elegantly upright in the bridal room, careful to draw no suspicion. [At the first opportunity, however,] she snuck out of the room and disappeared. Her family and their servants anxiously searched the nearby mountains and waters. On the second day, they found Ongnang’s shoes abandoned on a riverbank lush with red smartweed. They concluded that Ongnang must have jumped into the river to her death but, search as they might, they couldn’t locate her body. The whole household lamented. On the same day when Ongnang was believed to have leaped into the river, a man named Jeon Jaha was appointed as prefect of Bokju.11 That evening, traveling with his family, he anchored his ship to the riverbank. As he dozed on the bow, he had a short dream. In his dream, a figure descended from heaven and spoke to him, “Tonight, a woman will come here to jump into the river. In your former life, she was your daughter. You must save her and look after her.” Before Jeon Jaha could ask a single question, the figure vanished. Yawning and stretching, Jeon Jaha woke from his dream. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone splashing into the river. He quickly cried out to the skipper to pull the person out of the water. It was none other than Ongnang [chilled and unconscious]. They called for her to be quickly stripped off her wet garments and dressed in new dry clothes. A brazier was brought in to warm her and warm wine soup was gently poured into her mouth to improve her blood circulation. After a while, Ongnang regained consciousness. Jeon Jaha asked his wife to inquire about her name, place of residence, and reasons for jumping into the river. Ongnang replied, “I am the daughter of Jeon Gongwon, who lives in Taewon, and the wife of Wang Sibung. Last month, my husband was appointed to be judge of Joyang and prepared to move from the capital city to his new post. A vicious man in our neighborhood seized the opportunity and tried to force me to be his wife. I could not become a mate to an animal [a dog or a pig] so, deciding that I would rather be eaten by fish, I leaped into the river.” Her words broke Jeon Jaha’s heart. He sent one of his underlings to Joyang to investigate. Arriving at the outskirts of Joyang, the man saw a funeral procession with a red banner resting by a riverbank. The banner read, “The Coffin of Judge Wang of Joyang.” He accosted a servant walking with the procession and inquired. The servant told him that the judge had been struck with illness and died shortly after arriving at his new post. Without looking into the matter further, Jeon’s underling assumed that Wang Sibung had died and hastily returned to report his discovery. Ongnang accepted the grievous news without a moment’s doubt and sank into despair. She became pale and her heart was crushed. Overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, she began to fade into death. Jeon Jaha brought her bowls of rice porridge and encouraged her to eat so that she could regain strength. He took her with him to Bokgeon,12 where he continued to look after her and soon became very fond of her. One day, Ongnang asked Jeon Jaha, “A long time has passed since my husband’s death, but I have yet to offer a memorial service or a cup of wine before his spirit. I would like to perform a ritual for the dead to ease his passage to eternity.” Jeon Jaha secretly thought the ritual was a foolish practice from a heterodox religion but chose to allow it because he did not want to break her heart.  Ongnang took incense and went to the Temple of Gilsang to prepare for the ritual. While she was there, a governor of Bokju was also at the temple, holding a ritual for his deceased wife. Ongnang glimpsed him through the curtains and thought he resembled her husband Wang Sibung. After performing the ritual, she returned home and talked quietly with her maid, “The official performing the ritual at the temple today very much resembled my husband.” Jeon Jaha happened to hear their conversation on his way to the outhouse. Later, he summoned Ongnang and asked about what she said. Ongnang replied, “When I was at the temple, I happened to see an official who looked something like my deceased husband. I only brought it up casually. I did not mean it any other way.” Struck by her unusual encounter, Jeon Jaha dispatched a subordinate to Bokju to find out the name of its governor. The man returned and reported, “Wang Sibung currently serves as governor of Bokju.” Jeon Jaha soon brought together all the governors and magistrates of nearby towns. As wine was served the gathered guests talked pleasantly with one another. However Wang Sibung, with a broken heart and a sad countenance, did not mingle with the crowd. Jeon Jaha asked Wang Sibung, “What was your post prior to coming to Bokju?” Wang replied, “I was fortunate enough to pass the civil examination and was posted in Joyang to serve as a judge. Shortly after, I was reassigned and Wang Jagong came to replace me. Sadly, Wang Jagong was struck with illness and passed away within a month after his appointment, while I came here to serve as the prefect of Bokju.” Jeon Jaha then asked, “Regarding your wife, of what illness and where did she die?” Wang Sibung explained, “I am originally from Taewon. I married the daughter of Jeon Gongwon, who lived in the same village. Last year, I went to the capital city to take the civil examination and passed. I was immediately appointed as judge of Joyang. Later, when I was assigned to Bokju, I brought my mother there so that she could stay with me. My wife however, stayed behind at her family’s house. Under mysterious circumstances, she threw herself into a river and died. I sent people to search along the river for her remains. However, to this day, they have not been found.” Jeon Jaha went on, “What betrothal gifts did you send to the bride’s house with your marriage proposal?” Wang Sibung replied, “I was too poor to meet the formalities. I sent only the thorn hairpin that belonged to my mother.” Jeon Jaha said, “Your wife is long gone and not coming back alive. I have an adopted daughter. Why don’t you marry her? She can attend to your needs and help to manage your household.” Wang Sibung said, “With the seas and mountains as a witness, my wife with the thorn hairpin and I made a wedding vow to be faithful to each other. She must have jumped into the river to honor that vow by her death. If I marry another woman, how can I face her again when we meet in the underworld someday?” Jeon Jaha said, “It is a great lack of filial piety to have no descendants. Without a wife, how can you have a son to carry on the family name and continue your traditions by paying tribute to your ancestors?” Wang Sibung abruptly changed the subject of their talk, looking uneasily to his left and right to convey that he had no intention of remarrying. [Encouraged,] Jeon Jaha drew out the thorn hair pin and showed it to Wang Sibung, saying, “I happened to acquire this object. Does it not belong to your family?” Surprise transformed Wang’s countenance. He exclaimed, “That is the hairpin that my mother personally sent to my wife!” For some time, he could only caress the hairpin and lament. The sound of his cries pierced the heavens. Finally he wiped his tears and asked, “How did you acquire this hairpin?” Jeon Jaha said, “Its owner is in the inner quarters.” As Wang Sibung finally realized that his wife was there, he almost fainted. Meanwhile Ongnang peeked through a slightly open window and immediately recognized her husband. She wept with joy. Reunited at last, the ecstatic couple felt as if they would go mad with delight. Ongnang told him first how she had felt during their separation, “Since my first day with you, with the thorn hairpin in my hair, I worked hard to achieve the three exemplary conducts13 and fulfill the womanly way every day of my life, diligently managing the household. We made a vow that we would enjoy one hundred years of happy marriage and wished to be buried together in the same grave. But how could you, a man who won first place in the civil service exam at the red terrace of the palace,14 and wore a tiger-shaped tally15at the pavilion of a bell,16 abandon your old wife, belittling the virtue and affection you had developed with her when you were poor and humble, and valuing more your affection for your new wife? How could you send your mother a letter to drive me out of the house so cruelly? Although my father, influenced by the cunning words of my stepmother, did not advise me to be faithful, it was not her words alone that caused the turmoil. It was primarily Son Yeogwon who played vile tricks on us. I decided to take the path of a precious pearl sinking into the deep sea to end my life so that I would not have to stand again before the silken [wedding] screen. The messenger sent to Joyang swiftly returned and reported your death. The news stunned me and tore apart my heart. I hoped to send your spirit to the underworld in peace, so I went to the temple to perform a ritual. There, I glimpsed someone who closely resembled you. I thought I was dreaming but wasn’t certain. Today in this government building, I am able to keep our old vow, as if meeting an old friend at the bank of the Xiang River.17 Remembering Jeon Jaha’s grace in pulling me out of the water to save my life, I feel I am indebted to him forever, just as I am indebted to my own parents for their love.” Clasped securely in each other’s arms, the couple cried until the day grew dark.  Wang Sibung, after hearing the details of his wife’s ordeal, thanked Jeon Jaha until he ran out of words to further express his appreciation. He lingered, enjoying their reunion, like finding the mirror of Akjang18 and the sword of Yeonpyeong.19  Next day, Wang Sibung returned to Bokju with his wife, but they routinely returned to greet Jeon Jaha three times on every tenth day. Ongnang said to Wang Sibung, “Let’s send some people with horses to bring my father, stepmother, and foster mother here.” Wang agreed. In the interim, however, the stepmother had gone blind and died. The foster mother had also passed away. Alone in his home, only Ongnang’s father remained. He was soon brought to Bokju. Thereafter, the couple served Ongnang’s father and foster father [Jeon Jaha] equally. [Time passed and] Wang Sibung had a number of sons. All of them later won first place in the civil examination. The household grew, generating many descendants, and the family name shone. People no longer even remember them by their names; they simply call them “Top Graduate Wang.” 1 This translation, despite the fact that the tale was originally set in China, uses the Korean readings of names and places that appear in the original text. Because the base text is a Korean translation of the Chinese tale that was circulated and evolved among Koreans, the Korean reading reflects a Korean savor and traces of Korean reading habits, evoking the cultural connotations which the Chinese names and places held among Koreans. The name Wang Sibung is drawn from Koreans’ conventional reading of the Chinese characters “Sipbung” (十朋) which appear in the Korean translation of the tale. Jeong Hakseong said “Sipbung” seems to have been read as “Sibung” among seventeenth-century Koreans because “Sibung” was closer to the Chinese reading, at the time, of the characters, “Shipeng.” 2 Taewon (Taiyuan in Chinese 太原) is a historic city located in Shanxi province, China. It was called Jinyang (Chinyang in Korean 晉陽) during the Spring and Autumn Period (771–303 BCE) and remained an important site in traditional Chinese culture.  3 Song (宋) China (960–1279). 4 Starting from here, the original text refers to Ongnyeon (玉蓮) as Ongnang (玉娘). 5 “Poetry and calligraphy” is a translation of siseo (詩書), which can also mean the Sigyeong (The book of poetry 詩經) and Seogyeong (The book of history 書經). 6 This sentence describes napchae (納采), the first stage in the traditional wedding known as “six marriage rites” (六禮), which consists of the groom′s family making a formal marriage proposal. 7 The original text uses the expression jogang ji cheo (糟糠之妻), which refers to a wife who endured the hardship of poverty with her husband while eating distillers’ dregs and husks. It also connotes a first wife who supports her husband before he succeeds. 8 These three expressions—”personally fetching water and grinding grain with the mortar” (操持井臼), “keeping your parents warm during the winter and cool during the summer” (溫凊之奉), and “treating them to delicious food” (甘指之養)—are commonly used in both China and Korea to describe the praiseworthy conduct of a virtuous wife and daughter-in-law. 9 The original text has traditional expressions for the companionship between husband and wife: “aging together for one hundred years (a whole lifetime)” (百年偕老) and “making an oath to be buried in the same grave” (同穴之盟). 10 Wang Chok (Wang Zhu in Chinese 王蠋) was a minister of the Qi (齊) state during the Warring States Period (ca. fifth century–221 BCE). He is known for his remark that “a loyal liege man does not serve two kings, and a chaste wife does not change her husband by marrying a second husband” (忠臣不事二君, 貞女不更二夫).  11 Bokju (Fuzhou in Chinese) is a city in present-day Fujian province. Later in the text, Jeon Jaha is described as the governor of Bokgeon (Geonswi in Korean Ëï倅) while Wang Sibung is mentioned as the prefect of Bokju (福州刺史) or the governor of Bokju (Bokjuswi in Korean 福州倅). To reduce confusion in the translation, I refer to Jeon and Wang by their names. 12 Bokgeon (Fujian in Chinese 福建) is a province in the southern part of China. 13 The original text has samjeong (三貞), a woman’s three virtuous conducts toward her parents, parents- in-laws, and her husband.  14 The literal translation of this passage is “winning the head of a dragon at the vermilion terrace” (捷龍頭於丹墀). The “head of a dragon” means “winning the first place in the civil service exam” (a top graduate 壯元). The vermilion terrace is an open, flat place (or series of steps) leading up to a palace hall. 15 “A tiger-shaped tally” is a translation of hobu (虎符), a typical token used by military officials as proof of authorization to command the army. 16 “Pavilion of a Bell” is a translation of ryeonggak (鈴閣), an official place or residence for soldiers to conduct military business. 17 The Xiang (湘) River (in present-day Hunan province) frequently appears as a place for missing and parting from friends.  18 “Mirror of Akjang” (Lechang in Chinese 樂昌) is a story about Princess Lechang during the Chen dynasty (551–389). When the Sui dynasty (581–318) invaded, Princess Lechang and her husband Xu Deyan were about to part. Her husband broke a mirror in two and gave her half as a token of their promise and a hope for reunion. Later, Xu Deyan happened to see a broken piece of a mirror, which led him back to his wife. Lechang’s mirror is a common trope for the reunion of a couple. 19 The sword of Yeonpyeong (Yanping in Chinese 延平) also represents the reunion of two treasured swords, called Longquan jian (龍泉劍) and Tai’a jian (太阿劍), which were discovered by Lei Huan (雷煥) at the order of Zhang Hua (張華). Lei Huan gave one sword to Zhang Hua, while keeping the other for himself. However, Zhang Hua predicted that the two swords would be reunited again. Later, Zhang was killed, and his sword disappeared. Soon after, Lei Huan also died. One day, Lei Huan’s son set out carrying his father’s sword. As he passed the bridge of Yanping, the sword leapt into the river and disappeared. He searched for the sword but couldn’t find it, seeing only two dragons intertwined together. This tale indicates the destiny of the two swords to be united. An earlier version of this translation appeared as “Paean to Marital Fidelity in Poverty: the Wang Sibung giu gi, Korean Romance of the Thorn Hairpin.” The Review of Korean Studies 22, no. 1 (June 2019): 405–26. Introduced and translated by Sookja Cho Associate Professor of Korean and Comparative Literature Arizona State University

  by Cho, Sookja