To look at, he was as still as a painting. But inside, he was far from calm. The surging yang energy was churning through all of Hae-gang like a tidal wave about to swallow everything at any moment.
Merely riding a horse down the main road was not enough to fell him, but today's unusually intense sunlight was indeed a problem. Even if the sunlight he met in Northern Wei felt far less harsh than what he met in Namwi, sunlight was in itself intense yang energy, and taking it all in with his whole body could do him no good.
Of course, Hae-gang had always lived with this much surging contained inside him. It was familiar, and he calmly focused on his inner self, shutting out every movement and every reaction, so still he might have been mistaken for a stone statue. Gazing only inward, as if governing the microcosm within himself, he poured his whole mind into facing the energy of his depths and regulating the yang energy.
Click.
Then, at some moment, Hae-gang's calmly lowered eyelids stirred. It was at the sound of the inner room's door opening. Slowly opening his eyes, Hae-gang looked straight toward the doorway. Since he had been sitting with his head turned toward the doorway, eyes closed, merely lifting his eyelids brought Mok-young's entering figure into view through the open door.
And at the same time, a faint fragrance of camellia tickled Hae-gang's nose. The lingering scent of trees one could smell in the biting winter forest, and the faint camellia scent spreading through it, was exquisite — vividly engraved in Hae-gang's mind since he had first smelled it "that day."
"It's only a matter of changing the destination; the departure preparations will be finished without delay."
Mok-young said as he approached, while Hae-gang only gazed at him without a word, without a stir. Reaching right beside the table, Mok-young hesitated a moment, then sat in an empty chair — not the one facing Hae-gang, but one slightly closer.
Inwardly, Mok-young was worried about Hae-gang. Partly because his earlier spirited appearance felt so different from this still one, and partly because the glimpse he had caught of Hae-gang's profile as they entered the gate weighed on his mind. Hae-gang had been smiling and joking, but at the moment he crossed the gate's threshold, Mok-young had seen a bead of sweat trickle down beside his temple.
It didn't fit to say he was simply sweating from the heat. Though the day was clear, the cold was biting. On such a day even grown men felt the cold as a matter of course, and Hae-gang wore only his ceremonial robes, with no outer coat over them. It had puzzled him since last time — why did this man go about dressed so thinly? He looked like someone who didn't know cold, which hardly connected with being a gravely ill patient, making it all the harder to understand. In any case, to Mok-young's eyes Hae-gang looked as though he were breaking out in a cold sweat, and he worried something might be wrong with him.
"You told me not to be reserved… yet you are stubborn yourself."
Only after a long while did Hae-gang's lips part. His voice still carried its low resonance, yet sounded somehow soft and languid. One could feel he was speaking low, his strength drained.
Mok-young debated whether to ask Hae-gang if he was all right. Not knowing where or how he hurt, he hardly knew how to respond. Above all, the figure before his eyes looked so perfectly fine that it only deepened the confusion.
"Let us ride the carriage together."
While Mok-young silently studied Hae-gang's complexion, Hae-gang opened his lips once more and spoke. Still in the same chin-propped posture, blinking slowly as he looked at Mok-young, a faint smile spread across Hae-gang's lips. It was like a single drop of water falling onto a still surface, raising faint ripples.
"If I were to collapse, you would have to look after me from beside me, wouldn't you?"
Originally, Mok-young was to ride horseback, with the carriage carrying Hae-gang following behind. That had been arranged out of consideration, lest His Highness's body grow weary — but now this prince was using his own frailty to change even that as he pleased.
"They haven't even raised the nuptial cups yet — is it proper for the two bridegrooms to ride one carriage?"
Everyone around called Hae-gang the "bride," but Mok-young called him precisely the "groom." And whether he had decided to heed Hae-gang's "don't be reserved," his manner of speech had grown much more at ease. The soft ripple at Hae-gang's lips deepened a little more.
"What of it? We're already meeting face to face like this."
Hae-gang replied calmly. He was right. The two bridegrooms were already facing each other before leading the wedding procession into the palace. By custom, on the wedding day, before the rites, bride and groom were not to face each other. There was no pressing reason it must not be, yet on that day they were strictly urged to be reverent and keep their conduct pure — or so he thought.
"So you have no mind to keep even one custom?"
"Nope. None."
When Hae-gang answered at once without a moment's thought, Mok-young let out a "ha" of hollow laughter.
When he had faced his parents earlier, he had seemed a man to whom etiquette came naturally. So he could almost grasp what his youngest sibling Cheong-i had meant by saying "he is a person overflowing with elegance and dignity." But now he was trying to disregard etiquette as if it were nothing. Not to mention how he had barged into the bridegroom's house willfully earlier.
"Once we enter the palace, I'll be bound by that etiquette the whole time — is there any need to drain my strength already?"
"Your Highness."
"Feel free to call me 'husband.' Or 'wife,' if you prefer."
"Your Highness."
"Ah, there's no stopping you."
Who was unstoppable against whom, exactly? Mok-young felt a surge of emotion for an instant, but it was only a momentary ripple before he regained his composure. It seemed the one who would become his wife had a mischievous streak, and he must not let himself be swayed by it.
"I trust you will follow etiquette when we hold the rites later."
Mok-young's tone turned stiff again. But Hae-gang's lips kept their gentle ease, and Hae-gang nodded slowly to show he agreed. Mok-young's admonition amounted to nothing less than what Hae-gang had said: "We will ride the carriage together."
In the end it became a situation of going along with Hae-gang's words, but for Mok-young it was largely out of worry. Why should one bead of sweat weigh on his mind so? But he did not yet fully grasp Hae-gang's physical condition, so he could not brush anything aside carelessly. And besides, somehow… looking at the Hae-gang before his eyes now, he
felt as though he was coming to know what that sentiment he had felt for an instant earlier was.
Earlier he had simply thought it would be more fitting to call him a celestial youth who might vanish without a trace some day, but beneath that there had been a certain wistfulness. Perhaps he had glimpsed the precariousness that he might literally vanish.
"Just endure a couple of years, Mok-young."
Emperor Ju Geon-yang's words brushed through Mok-young's mind anew. The emperor of a nation would not have said such a thing carelessly. And with a great matter like a state wedding at stake, how could he recklessly spout that the other nation's prince would live but a year or two?
So it wasn't that he felt tenderness the moment he saw Hae-gang. He merely… hoped things would proceed without mishap. In any case, it was a matter of grave national importance; only if he and Hae-gang got through today safely would the innocent people of both nations cease to shed blood.
***
When the procession preparations were all complete, the two boarded the carriage together. Made very large for ceremonial use, it had ample room for two strapping men to sit side by side. The ceremonial carriage had large window frames on both sides, and no doors. A curtain hung down, but since it was prettily arranged and loosely tied, it was utterly useless for blocking the wind.
A carriage with both windows wide open on this cold day. It wasn't meant for escaping the cold in the first place, and though holding the wedding in such cold weather had also been the prince's demand, inside it Hae-gang sat with his eyes quietly closed, and to Mok-young's eyes the sight was only strange. Far from feeling the cold, he showed not a trace of tension — so much so one could hardly believe they were on their way to hold a wedding.
Anew, Mok-young realized that Hae-gang too had little interest in this marriage. It was obvious without asking deeply. Wasn't it a political marriage with a clear purpose? Perhaps Hae-gang's position made likes and dislikes matter even less. Compared to that, his behavior didn't look like that of "a man who came despite disliking it," which was curious in a way — but that didn't change the essence. Behind it came the guess that perhaps his willful behavior itself stemmed from this marriage mattering little in his heart.
Mok-young turned his gaze beyond the window. The commoners out along the road were cheering and waving their hands. Shouts of "General! Congratulations!" rang out, and cheers of "Long live the general!"
This too was a strange sight. A hollow marriage in which both groom and groom were indifferent.
Would a proper married life ever come of it? They were neither an ordinary man and woman, nor an ordinary yin person and yang person. He himself had no thought of sharing a blanket with his wife and doing this and that…
Thump.
Hae-gang's body, which until just now he had thought was sitting upright against the backrest in perfect posture, tilted toward Mok-young, and his head came to rest on Mok-young's shoulder. The small gold crown set atop his topknotted hair — not so large a thing — came precariously close to touching Mok-young's cheek, and Mok-young bowed his head forward, tilting it aslant to study Hae-gang's complexion. His chest tightened and his heart pounded at the thought that, just as Hae-gang had said, he might have collapsed. But contrary to Mok-young's worry, the next moment Hae-gang's hand settled atop Mok-young's, which had been resting quietly on the empty part of the seat. Before he knew it, he was holding Mok-young's hand as if enfolding it, and Mok-young blinked in surprise at how Hae-gang's hand felt like a ball of fire.
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