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 Hansol

Trans. Ally Hwang

 

Copyright © 2013 Seoul Selection

Reprinted with permission from Seoul Selection