WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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Chapter 99: When Young, I Knew Not Sorrow's Taste (4)

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Yeon Sowol was a smart person.

Moyong Ha was smart too.

When Moyong Ha first appeared, Yeon Sowol had thought to himself,

‘This woman is trying to recruit me.’

Moyong Ha had come from Liaoning.

Hunan lay south of the Central Plains, while Liaoning stood on its northeastern frontier.

There had to be an unusual reason for the treasured daughter of the Moyong Family to come all this way alone.

‘I heard earlier that there was a major incident in Liaoning related to the Demonic Path. This might be connected to that.’

Yeon Sowol was a master who could be of great help in any undertaking, even if he did not know exactly what she intended to do.

So it was not an unreasonable guess that Moyong Ha had deliberately approached him to win his favor.

Still, Yeon Sowol now had to admit it.

‘If she does this much for me, isn’t it only polite to let myself be recruited, at least a little?’

He had quoted a line of poetry, and Moyong Ha had heard it and offered prayers for Eun-yeong’s soul.

He could not help but feel favorably toward her. He could not help but feel indebted to her.

They could not yet be called deeply connected, but those few words had made it impossible for Yeon Sowol to think of Moyong Ha as a stranger anymore.

Yet Yeon Sowol was not the only clever one. Moyong Ha was too.

‘...I didn’t plan this, but if things turn out this way, Young Hero Yeon probably won’t be wary of me or keep me at arm’s length, right?’

In her own way, Moyong Ha had been reading Yeon Sowol’s heart and drawing her own conclusions.

‘Young Hero Yeon is skilled enough to notice even when I conceal my presence. I should earn more points while I can. He’ll be helpful in many ways.’

With their own thoughts in mind, the young man and woman strolled side by side.

The sun was setting beyond Dongting Lake.

With Dongting Lake on their right, Yeon Sowol and Moyong Ha walked alongside a small forest.

“You must have studied poetry. That’s rare among martial artists who aren’t from martial families.”

Yeon Sowol smiled awkwardly.

“I don’t know much. I’ve only just started studying it.”

“Oh? Yet you can quote something so fitting? You have talent.”

Yeon Sowol thought,

‘She’s praising me too much. I’d help her even if she didn’t.’

Moyong Ha thought,

‘Was I a little too obvious? Hmm. I should change the subject quickly. Make it a little personal and build some closeness.’

She moved a few steps ahead, spun around to face Yeon Sowol, and began walking backward.

“Do you know Li Shangyin’s poetry, by any chance?”

Yeon Sowol shook his head.

“Not very well.”

“That’s perfect.”

Moyong Ha chattered with an oddly excited expression.

“You said you only just started studying poetry, right? Then will you grant me the honor of teaching you about Li Shangyin?”

The situation struck Yeon Sowol as funny, so he let out a hearty laugh.

“Yes. I grant it.”

“Thank you.”

Moyong Ha bowed as though she might float away, then stopped.

The smile suddenly vanished from her face.

Whoosh.

The surroundings fell quiet, and a lonely gust swept past. Beside the lake’s white sands, the water lapped softly.

Moyong Ha inhaled through her nose, and at last, her lips fluttered open.

“At fifteen, she weeps in the spring wind,

beneath the swing, her back turned.”

Why was that?

There was nothing complicated about it.

It was understated.

Almost simple, even.

Yet Yeon Sowol felt as though he had been struck, and stared blankly at Moyong Ha.

The light, playful atmosphere from moments before.

Then, in an instant, the air filled with aching sorrow.

It was like waking from another world.

The temperature of the air had changed in a single breath.

Was it that sudden plunge that pierced Yeon Sowol’s chest like a blade?

Behind Moyong Ha, he seemed to see a girl weeping beneath a swing, her back turned.

Yeon Sowol swallowed and answered.

“It’s sorrowful and vivid.”

He barely managed to say something that sounded as though it belonged beside a poem in a Korean language study guide.

At that moment, Moyong Ha was inwardly embarrassed.

‘Ah. I got carried away again.’

Her face reddened slightly as she spoke.

“Ahem. Li Shangyin is a poet I like very much, and that’s one of my favorite poems. Whenever I read it, I can’t help putting on a serious air.”

After clearing her throat again, she continued.

“You’re exactly right. It’s sorrowful and vivid. That’s why I like Li Shangyin. If I may be so bold, no one in all of history can match him when it comes to expressing loneliness and longing.”

That was extravagant praise, which made Yeon Sowol think reflexively,

‘Hmm. Is he really that good?’

He could admit it.

Those two lines from earlier had created quite an atmosphere.

In only two lines, they brought to mind a young girl crying beneath a swing with her back turned.

Fifteen. The beauty of implication that naturally recalled all the anxiety and uncertainty of adolescence.

There was clearly something to it.

But perhaps that was because the sun was setting over Dongting Lake.

Perhaps it was because Moyong Ha stood there amid the shimmering forest shadows, as though painted into the scene.

People were strange that way. When they heard someone praise something too highly, they could not help wanting to be contrary.

Still, Yeon Sowol had been a socially adept student, so he hid those thoughts and nodded.

“Then would you teach me some more?”

“Of course. I’ll be your first. From now on, whenever you read Li Shangyin’s poetry, you’ll think of me.”

Step, step.

Moyong Ha began walking again. Her back was to him, and her pinned-up hair swayed gently.

Her recitation came to him mingled with a songlike cadence.

Low, like a sigh.

“Do not let the heart of spring bloom in contest with the flowers,

for each inch of longing becomes an inch of ash.”

‘Each inch of longing becomes an inch of ash...’

Yeon Sowol found himself turning the line over in his mind.

“What do you think of this one?”

At Moyong Ha’s question, Yeon Sowol unconsciously sank into thought.

‘Each inch of longing, each inch of ash. That longing is the same longing from lovesickness. Every inch of love becomes an inch of ash... That hurts.’

The meaning of the heart of spring.

The meaning of not letting it bloom in competition with the flowers.

The meaning of longing becoming ash.

Yeon Sowol considered all of it as though solving a Korean language exam question, then finally managed a single sentence.

“The longing runs deep.”

Moyong Ha’s eyes widened.

“You said something like that before... Young Hero, you truly understand poetry.”

It was admiration. This time, not flattery meant to win him over, but admiration from the heart.

“Many people boast about poetry, but few understand it. Poetry loses meaning whenever you explain every part of it in words, yet your one sentence was so fitting.”

It was the sincere admiration Moyong Ha had never given Namgung Ujin, no matter how much he longed for it each day.

But Yeon Sowol’s response to receiving it was lukewarm.

No. More than lukewarm, it was awkward.

Because he had just realized something.

He stared at Moyong Ha with a slightly bewildered look.

Moyong Ha tilted her head.

“Why?”

When she asked, Yeon Sowol hesitated.

Then he hesitated again before lowering his head in greeting.

“I pray they rest in peace. Those people... in Liaoning.”

Moyong Ha’s eyes grew round.

As if time had stopped.

She stared at Yeon Sowol without even blinking.

After looking at him for a long while, she barely managed to speak.

“How... did you know?”

Yeon Sowol answered.

“Every poem you said was your favorite was excessively sorrowful.”

“...Just from that?”

“At fifteen, she weeps in the spring wind. Usually, one might interpret it as the pain of a first love experienced by an adolescent girl. Each inch of longing becomes an inch of ash would be the same. But if it is not love between a man and a woman, then it is longing. A desperate longing, where every inch of the heart turns to ash.”

“...”

Moyong Ha could not say anything.

“I heard earlier that there was a great disturbance in Liaoning. It must have happened around when you were fifteen.”

“...”

“And you recognized it right away earlier. That the person I longed for was not someone of this world. Perhaps you knew at once because you, too, had sent many people away. I suppose that is why I recognized it as well.”

“...”

“It may be late, but I want to offer comfort to you as well. And to them.”

Moyong Ha’s eyes reddened.

Tears welled up, making her eyes shimmer.

She slowly bowed.

She bent her knees in a deep bow, then forced a smile as she spoke.

“Thank you. ...This is the first comfort I’ve received since coming to the Central Plains.”

For a while, Yeon Sowol and Moyong Ha faced one another.

The sun completely disappeared beyond Dongting Lake, and even the faint afterglow it left behind soon went out like a candle.

The two clever young people understood at the same moment.

They had become true friends.

No longer needing to impress one another, nor needing to carry a debt in their hearts,

* * *

“I told you earlier, didn’t I? I wasn’t following you.”

Yeon Sowol and Moyong Ha decided to speak casually with each other. They were the same age, after all.

Once they dropped the formalities, Moyong Ha treated Yeon Sowol without reserve.

“So what if you were?”

At Yeon Sowol’s words, Moyong Ha bristled.

“I wasn’t following you! Look! I’ll show you proof!”

Thud!

Moyong Ha overturned a boulder in the forest about the size of a person’s upper body.

It was an utterly ordinary, ugly-looking rock, lodged in the ground for no reason at all.

But on its underside...

“...Huh?”

“See?”

Small letters carved with a blade were packed closely together.

- I arrived in Yuezhou. Among the rising young talents, the names Namgung Ujin and Hwangbo Hwi were the first to come up.

- I investigated three famous Black Path gangs in Yuezhou, but found no trace of the Demonic Path.

It was a kind of diary.

A diary Moyong Ha had been keeping since arriving in Yuezhou.

Yeon Sowol blinked.

“Why write it on a rock...?”

“It’s just a habit. Leaving a trace of myself in places I’ve visited. Even if nobody knows, there’ll still be proof here that I came and went.”

“Then carve it into a more impressive rock.”

“No, I like rocks like this. A boulder that isn’t special in any way and has no use. Zhuangzi said that trees that are excellent and useful all get cut down by axes. People build houses and make furniture from them... A tree that lives long is a useless tree. This is the same. I have to carve it into a completely useless rock like this for it to last a thousand years, ten thousand years.”

As she spoke, Moyong Ha drew her sword and swung it.

Softly blooming sword qi carved new words into the boulder.

‘...Amazing.’

It had been a casual stroke, yet Yeon Sowol could feel the weight of the martial principles within it.

Perfectly controlled, delicate sword qi.

Yeon Sowol imagined being cut by that sword qi.

He would probably receive nothing more than a long, hair-thin wound.

‘She doesn’t seem to be beneath me...’

As he admired her, he read the words Moyong Ha carved.

- I became friends with Yeon Sowol, the young alliance leader of the Guangdong Martial Alliance. He is the first friend to comfort me in the Central Plains.

Yeon Sowol was flustered.

“No, why are you writing something like that?”

“It’s all a keepsake. A keepsake.”

Moyong Ha grinned and turned the boulder back over.

By the time they headed back toward Yuezhou, it had become completely dark.

As they walked down the pitch-black path, only the soft lapping of water came from the dark lake.

Still, the two young people, both having reached the realm of Faint Fragrance Unfading, could see through the night as clearly as day.

Yeon Sowol suddenly asked,

“So how are you going to start? Finding traces of the Demonic Path group. From what you wrote earlier, it looks like you’ve already checked a few Black Path gangs.”

“I’d been worrying about that too. Where should I even start looking... It felt hopeless. But then I found something incredible.”

Something incredible?

Yeon Sowol turned toward her curiously, and Moyong Ha pulled something from her robe.

It was a booklet.

Yeon Sowol’s eyes widened as he absentmindedly read its title.

“This is...?”

The booklet read:

- - - -

One. If you are walking through an alley in Yuezhou at night and hear someone crying for help from the other end, never approach. The person in the greatest danger is you.

Two. If you leave Yuezhou’s city walls and walk along Dongting Lake, then see a government soldier or martial official walking into the water, stop where you are, hold your breath, and close your eyes. Remember this. No government soldier or martial official in Yuezhou patrols the Dongting Lake shore outside the city walls.

(Remainder omitted.)

- - - -

Footnotes:

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