WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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Chapter 80: Wild Ginseng (3)

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Han San reached Cheonbo Pharmacy just as Ma Jong-sung was about to close up shop.

“Sajang-nim! Hold on!”

Ma Jong-sung raised one eyebrow.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind, or there’s a problem, or you want the fee adjusted...”

“Come on, do I look like the kind of person who’d do that? You have that little faith in me?”

“You’re not that sort of person, no.”

Then what could it be? Barely half a day had passed. Surely Han San had not already found wild ginseng...

Just as Ma Jong-sung was thinking that, Han San smiled and held up a paulownia box.

Ma Jong-sung stared blankly for a moment. Then realization struck, and he said in a frantic voice,

“Get inside! Quick!”

Han San stepped in. Ma Jong-sung swiftly locked the door behind them, grabbed Han San by the wrist, and practically dragged him behind the counter.

He lowered his voice as if they were plotting treason.

“This... is it?”

This was Han San’s first time being invited behind Cheonbo Pharmacy’s counter.

The safe was right there, yet Ma Jong-sung did not spare it a glance, his eyes fixed solely on the box. Han San smiled and set it on the desk.

“See for yourself.”

Click.

Han San opened the box.

A sharp, bitter scent washed through the room.

“...That smell.”

Ma Jong-sung’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The ginseng lay neatly on silk, its body carrying a faint golden sheen.

“The rings are so close together, and not a single rootlet is damaged... N-no, that’s not the point. A magnifying glass. Where’s my magnifying glass?”

“Isn’t it over there?”

“Bring it here, quick! Don’t just point at it!”

“I thought it might be improper for me to go handling things in the back of your shop.”

“Is this the time to say that? Between us...”

Han San let out a helpless laugh at Ma Jong-sung, who was all but hopping with impatience, and brought him the magnifying glass.

Snatching it up, Ma Jong-sung swallowed once and began inspecting the wild ginseng.

“One, two, three...”

Only the quiet sound of him counting nodes filled the shop.

“Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty... fifty-two.”

The hand holding the magnifying glass began to tremble.

Cultivated ginseng was called old once it passed six nodes. Even that was prized enough to sell out under the name Korean ginseng.

But this one had fifty-two nodes?

“At least fifty-two years... That is the absolute minimum. There are years when nodes do not form. Then the actual time this thing spent beneath the earth...”

Ma Jong-sung muttered like a man bewitched.

“I’ve found wild ginseng...”

Han San laughed as if the man had lost his mind.

“That’s what the one who dug it up says.”

“Ah, shut it! Let me have a share of your luck!”

Even after barking at him, Ma Jong-sung could not tear his eyes away from the ginseng.

“And how did you even dig it up like this... So many wild ginseng roots lose half their value because one careless stroke of a hand hoe snaps a rootlet. Damage the root crown, and it becomes an expensive bellflower root. But this...”

There was not a single mark from a metal blade. It looked as if it had simply slipped into the box like a ninja, perfectly intact from head to toe, exactly as it had lain in the soil.

“How did you... What did you use to...?”

“My hands. Ah, there was an ash tree lying beside it, so I snapped off a little branch and used that too.”

“Ha... You found something like this as casually as taking a stroll, in half a day... You didn’t dig this up beforehand, did you? You got it today, right? How? Did you know where it was? And if you did, how did you resist digging it up until now?”

Han San grinned and played it up.

“I told you. It’s in my family blood, you know? We’re mountain people from birth. My father hunted on Baekdu Mountain, so these parts are practically our backyard hill.”

“Look at you talking so smoothly. A secret method, is that it?

“Ha, really... If I didn’t know you, or if my eye for quality were even a little worse, I’d think you buried some long-bodied ginseng in the mountain and dug it up again.

“But I know this is neither mountain-cultivated nor field-grown ginseng. This is heaven-seeded ginseng, heaven-seeded! Sown by heaven and raised by the mountain!”

Ma Jong-sung looked utterly awestruck.

Han San straightened his shoulders.

“If you get work like this again, please send it my way. And make sure you keep the promise you mentioned earlier.”

“Of course! A promise is a promise. Don’t worry. This spiritual treasure will be your finest salesman. I’ll tell the fellowship right away... Though it is a little regrettable.”

Ma Jong-sung let out several deep sighs.

Han San tilted his head.

“Regrettable?”

“It is. Your talent... Hah, this. There aren’t many days left when I’ll be able to take a commission from you, are there? Before long, you’ll be dealing directly with every important elder under the sun.”

“Come on. Even if that happens, I couldn’t completely replace your route, could I?”

Everything had its pros and cons.

If he dealt directly, he would not lose a commission, but he would have to receive the orders, package the goods, and deliver them himself.

Of course, he was confident he could handle it. And for the finest wild ginseng roots, the ones truly worth their price, direct dealing would be more profitable. Building connections with the so-called important people through those dealings would bring enormous benefits as well.

Still, the wild ginseng he knew of varied greatly in age. The sort of people Ma Jong-sung meant would want eighty-year roots at minimum, or hundred-year roots.

‘And honestly, I don’t intend to dig up every wild ginseng root either...’

Not because he cared about preserving nature, but because of the future that was coming.

As someone busily mining won, it was a hollow thought, but after August 15, 1945, won and yen alike would become worthless paper.

‘They’ll be accelerating toward worthlessness even before then...’

The question of whether he could truly protect land and buildings just by holding deeds to them also required very careful thought.

‘Once I’ve earned enough spending money, I’ll save in gold, silver, and dollars...’

That was still a distant plan. For now, with so much mess left to clean up, he needed those bundles of won and yen paper regardless.

“Anyway, then. When should I come collect the money?”

“You’re heading to Sokcho, right? Counting travel time, come next Wednesday. I’ll have the bundle of cash ready and waiting.”

Ma Jong-sung said it with complete confidence.

Han San felt full inside. Even after covering every won he had spent preparing for Typhoon 3383 and redeveloping Middle Hamlet, he would have nearly 200 won left over.

‘That means I only need to earn around 1,300 won more.’

There were countless ways to make money.

‘In autumn, I have the salt-cured mackerel I laid the groundwork for, and when winter comes, I can try [that]...’

Inje’s market was too small to properly handle [that]. It seemed about time to prepare for an advance into Chuncheon through Kim Mal-ja’s introduction...

As he was thinking that, Ma Jong-sung suddenly made a suggestion.

“Or would you like to come along this time? You can show your face to those people as the man who dug up this wild ginseng. It would be better for you to meet them yourself than for me to introduce you with words...”

“No, it’s all right. I need to take a look at Sokcho first.”

Han San gave a bitter smile. It would not be bad to visit Chuncheon through Ma Jong-sung’s introduction while he had the chance, but checking the overall effects of the typhoon was more urgent.

Still.

“Meeting them in person can wait, but... may I borrow some paper and a pen, Sajang-nim?”

“What for?”

Instead of answering, Han San spread out a sheet of paper and picked up a pen.

He began with storage instructions. Cover it with moss and leaf mold, and keep it somewhere cool.

For how to take it, abstain from drinking and smoking for two or three days beforehand. Chew it thoroughly for at least ten minutes on an empty stomach in the morning. Do not eat immediately afterward either...

“Come on, I’d write all that down and include it myself. I am a medicinal-goods merchant, after all.”

Even as he said that, Ma Jong-sung did not stop Han San’s pen. He only watched the tip moving across the page over Han San’s shoulder.

Then his eyes widened a little.

“...Wait. Let me see that line again.”

Han San paused his pen, puzzled. Ma Jong-sung read the passage.

“Rules for recuperating from consumption. Get sunlight, but let fresh air in often. Do not hold back on eggs and meat. If you cough up blood, do not panic. Recline at an angle and rest...

“How did a mountain man learn this sort of thing? And your mixed Korean and Chinese writing is so clean...”

Naturally, Han San did not say, “From the national tuberculosis management program that will begin in about thirty years.”

“By chance, someone descended from the last medicine woman of Joseon joined our company.”

After he made Baechil’s mother the made-up source, Ma Jong-sung clicked his tongue in amazement.

“Good grief. Talented people really do draw talent to them like clouds.”

Smiling, Han San took a tiny glass bottle from his pocket. It was badger oil, which had sturdily supported him early after his regression but had now been pushed into the second string by chestnut honey and phellinus mushroom.

“Please pass this along as a little extra too. Tell that writer of Mountain Wanderer it’s a gift from a Gangwon mountain hunter.”

Badger oil being good for consumption was probably superstition, but then again, believing wild ginseng cured every illness was faith too.

‘They say people don’t buy lottery tickets to win. They buy the hope that will get them through the week.’

If it gave the patient hope, it would be worth 500 won.

“But please make sure to tell him this. Following the rules I wrote on that paper is as important as the wild ginseng and the badger oil.”

Han San stressed it again and again.

Ma Jong-sung nodded, moved and impressed in equal measure.

“Leave it to me.”

A few days later.

A rented room near Sajik-dong in Gyeongseong.

“It’s here, Yu-jeong.”

Kim Yu-jeong, sitting wrapped in bedding, looked at the paulownia box his noona had set down with pale eyes.

It had cost 500 won.

Money gathered from old classmates’ pockets, from the purses of students from his night school, from the wallet of an old man who had once called him young master, and from the money his noona received from selling the house.

Inside that box was every invisible thing the Kim family had accumulated in this world, gathered up and given material form.

“You should sell it and use the money, Noona.”

Kim Yu-jeong spoke in a cracked voice. A cough rose in his throat, and he tasted blood from deep inside.

Kim Yu-hyeong shook her head.

“Just eat it already.”

“Noona.”

“Eat it, hurry. Otherwise...”

Kim Yu-jeong knew perfectly well why she could not continue.

Their eldest brother.

The moment word reached his ears that wild ginseng was here, the Kim family’s final inheritance in that box would become gambling money.

Only what had already gone into one’s stomach was beyond the reach even of the king.

“...All right.”

When Kim Yu-jeong gave a bitter smile, his noona finally looked relieved and stepped outside.

Kim Yu-jeong silently stared down at the box containing the wild ginseng.

Then he opened it.

The scent of the mountain that swept through the room sent a cough and blood rising in his throat, but Kim Yu-jeong held them back. He took in the sight of the wild ginseng, whose noble form he had heard about only in words.

Today feels like a day when I want to write, Kim Yu-jeong thought.

Then he spotted the paper included with it.

A day when one wanted to write was also a day when one wanted to read. Kim Yu-jeong picked up the paper, unfolded it, and scanned the words written there.

The stranger's handwriting felt gentle somehow.

[Get sunlight, but let fresh air in often.]

[If you cough up blood, do not panic. Recline at an angle and rest...]

Words of concern sent by a Gangwon wild ginseng hunter, whose face he did not know, to a consumptive who was too ashamed to even call himself a writer.

The consumptive also noticed that a bottle of flawlessly clear badger oil had been included as a bonus.

“...People.”

How many beasts were there in the world?

But then, how many people were there as well?

When he put a piece of wild ginseng into his mouth and chewed it as the letter instructed, the inside of his body grew warm like heated water. Was that thanks to the wild ginseng, or because an empty corner of his heart had been filled?

Then it happened.

“...?”

Kim Yu-jeong’s eyes went wide as he finished reading the enclosed paper.

“...? ...? ..., ...???”

Even after reading the paper several more times, his widened eyes did not return to normal.

The next day.

Kim Yu-jeong, who had regained a little strength, called over a classmate visiting him.

“Pilseung.”

An Hoe-nam, the friend who had contributed the most money among his classmates toward the wild ginseng, raised his head.

“What is it?”

Kim Yu-jeong held up the paper that had come with the ginseng box.

“The person who sent this wild ginseng told me... that once I’m feeling better, I should try writing something called a wuxia novel. Do you know what a wuxia novel is?”

“A wuxia novel?”

An Hoe-nam tilted his head, then slapped his knee. As the son of An Guk-seon, author of The Record of a Meeting of Beasts, he was well acquainted with foreign trends.

“Sword-chivalry fiction! Those novels that were popular across the sea on the continent. The Jianghu Chivalric Heroes, The Burning of the Red Lotus Temple! There must have been more than ten moving pictures made from them.

“Chiang Kai-shek began censoring them last year, so the craze has died down some, but they are still popular. There is a recent one called Legend of the Swordsmen of the Mountains of Shu, with flying swords and immortals appearing...”

Kim Yu-jeong’s eyes went blank as his classmate rattled on.

“Good grief... Those things are popular?”

“Popular? A translation of The Jianghu Chivalric Heroes was serialized in the Dong-A Ilbo for a while. Do you know how much its sales rose then?

“Even across the water in Tokyo, similar stories have been popular for some time. Why, I showed you The Great Bodhisattva Pass once before, didn’t I?”

Only then did Kim Yu-jeong fully understand.

“The one with all the sword fighting...”

“Right. Clang, clang! Swish, swish! Dress that up with scripture and make it sound grand, and that is the wuxia fiction this person means.”

“And they want me to write something like that...”

Kim Yu-jeong looked doubtful. Aspiring writers were a breed that pouted first whenever someone told them to try writing this or that. No matter how grateful he was for the wild ginseng and the advice, that was a little...

“Why? I think it sounds quite good.”

But An Hoe-nam continued excitedly.

“Look at your situation right now. A scion of a fallen distinguished family! A gaunt young man, sickly and coughing blood! Then one day, a mysterious wild ginseng hunter sends that young man heaven-seeded wild ginseng... This is exactly the opening of a classic sword-chivalry novel!

“Then you eat the wild ginseng, your vital energy boils, and you overcome the disease! Ah! That is the very chapter where a sword hero rises to greatness!”

“Pilseung, honestly... It is easy for you to say, because it is someone else’s business...”

“Now, now. You put every sort of person you have encountered into your writing too, don’t you? Wasn’t it your own belief that one must know how to use anything as material? You always said writers had to be shameless.”

Kim Yu-jeong fell silent. He only turned his eyes aside and gave a quiet cough, but less blood rose into his mouth than usual, so he was able to cough twice more.

Patting Kim Yu-jeong on the shoulder, An Hoe-nam said,

“Anyway, you just had something published in a magazine, so wouldn’t trying a kind of writing you have never written before be good for recuperation too?

“You could write one of those detective stories you like, but why not do something entirely new and write a few pages of sword chivalry or chanbara? I think it is an excellent idea.

“Now that we are on the subject, Tange Sazen is opening as a moving picture this time. Once your health improves a little, let us go see it together. It might help your writing, do you not think?”

Kim Yu-jeong smiled bitterly. It seemed he would have to try writing one after all.

“Wuxia, huh...”

Footnotes:

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