“Why all this fuss, as if we’d been parted for ages?”
Huian said it, dumbfounded, and Wiryang sniffled. “Don’t say such things.”
“Back in Myeongnyeongseong, it was just the two of us, Your Highness, and I never once felt lonely. But here, with all these people around — without you, I feel lonely and forlorn, as if I were the only soul left in the whole world.”
It wasn’t like Wiryang to speak so weakly, but Huian understood his feelings well enough. He silently took his attendant’s hand, and they walked into the palace together.
“Did you meet His Majesty the Emperor?”
Wiryang asked, after sending the other palace staff away and helping Huian change alone.
“Yes.”
“What was he like? Was his jade body truly wreathed in dazzling golden light? Did light shine from his dragon countenance too—?”
Whether light shone from his jade body, Huian couldn’t say — but the dragon robe of gold silk embroidered with gold thread had certainly blazed with a dazzling light… though he couldn’t bring himself to say so.
“He was a man of dignity befitting the Son of Heaven.”
Huian answered evasively, and Wiryang made a fuss. “Just as I thought!”
“And Her Majesty the Empress?”
“She too was full of dignity — yet a benevolent soul.”
At this assessment, no different from the one he’d given the Emperor, Wiryang finally pouted and muttered, “I mean — you didn’t even see the same person. How can you say exactly the same thing…”
His thoroughly sulky tone barely stopped short of asking, *Do you find even this lowly one’s questions so tiresome?* Huian, embarrassed for no reason, laughed it off. “I see.”
“She was a beautiful person.”
Adding this as he sat in the chair by the table, Wiryang’s eyes lit up at once. “How beautiful? More beautiful than His Majesty?” By his standards, the most beautiful person in the world seemed to be King Geon.
“The two are of different genders — how could you compare them to rank who’s above whom? To my eyes, both are equally beautiful.”
“Truly?”
Wiryang asked back, his voice trembling. Blinking rapidly as if he couldn’t believe it — *how could anyone be as beautiful as His Majesty?* — he soon sighed softly and said, “Her Majesty the Empress is that beautiful — then what kind of beauty must Her Highness the Imperial Noble Consort have been, to be more beautiful still than the Empress?”
The Imperial Noble Consort Wiryang spoke of was Crown Prince Igang’s birth mother.
“How would I know that?”
Huian spoke gently but firmly — Wiryang seemed to have completely missed his point: don’t compare who’s prettier and wound someone’s feelings. Wiryang finally seemed to realize, quickly bowing his head. “Forgive me.”
“By the way — how’s the hawk?”
Huian changed the subject.
“It perched long ago, but it still hasn’t recovered its strength.”
“I see.”
Huian rose and headed for Wiryang’s room, where the cage was. As he’d said, the hawk in the cage still had no strength in it, lying sprawled motionless on the cage floor. But when Huian tapped its beak with his fingertip, it half-opened its eyes and ruffled its wings — with a good rest, it would likely recover.
“It looks like such a precious, expensive hawk. How did it get hurt like this?”
Wiryang said pitifully.
“Indeed…”
“The hawk’s owner is probably royalty — that’s my guess. The man’s golden eyes are the proof. But apart from that noble bloodline, I can’t guess his identity at all. His clothes were terribly shabby — in this palace, even a mere errand-runner wouldn’t dress so shabbily.”
So Huian had wondered whether the man might be a disgraced royal, or someone demoted to a criminal’s status for treason — but that seemed very unlikely. A criminal could hardly stride so boldly through the palace, much less keep an expensive hawk. And for a disgraced royal, the dignity in his speech and bearing was far too innate — almost intimidating.
“The eunuchs would know. Shall I ask tomorrow?”
“What need is there?”
Huian straightened up from peering into the cage and said, “If the hawk is precious to him, he’ll come looking for it himself — no need for us to search.”
“But what if he never comes?”
“Then we’ll release it into the forest. That’s better for the hawk too.”
Having said this casually, Huian turned to Wiryang again. “You must be tired — rest for today.”
Leaving word that they’d be even busier with wedding preparations from tomorrow, he headed alone to his bedroom.
The moment he reached the bedroom, he pulled out the hairpin crossing his jade crown. Removing the crown, the topknot hidden beneath came undone on its own, and his hair spilled long down to his waist. Huian gazed quietly at his loosened hair. The thought of going about with this messy hair bared again tomorrow didn’t please him — but what could he do? Such was this country’s custom.
Huian soon doused every lamp and climbed into bed. But sleep wouldn’t come. Tossing and turning until the small hours, he only managed to sink into a shallow sleep around the time a cuckoo’s cry sounded in the distance.
Chapter 2.
As the Empress had said, full-scale wedding preparations began the next day. From early morning, an enormous number of palanquins streamed in and out of Seonu Palace’s front courtyard for the napchae-rye, the proposal ceremony. With the wedding day so near, there was no time to send envoys all the way to Hye and receive the return gifts in reply — so as a stopgap, the rites were held with Seonu Palace, where both families were staying, standing in as his family home.
At the head of the palanquin procession stood Minister Jo with a dozen officials. When their attendant handed over the pheasant he carried so carefully in his arms, the Hye envoys waiting in Seonu Palace’s courtyard accepted it. Then palanquins laden with a thousand nyang of gold, a hundred thousand nyang of silver, a thousand bolts of silk, assorted ornate crafts, and ceramics circled the courtyard and passed out through the gates of Jucheon Fortress. From this moment, those palanquins would walk diligently for six full days, bound for Myeongnimseong.
Just as the gift-laden palanquins were crossing the border, the napchae feast was in full swing at Jucheon Fortress. The staff of Seonu Palace had stayed up all night preparing a hundred snack tables and a hundred wine tables that filled the front courtyard. The nine oxen, eighty-one sheep, and hundred jars of wine for the feast had all been brought from Hye. After enjoying the banquet, Minister Jo and the ministers accepted the return gifts prepared by the bride’s side on the third day, left Seonu Palace, and re-entered through the main gate of Jucheon Fortress. The groom’s side, having received the return gifts, in turn sent the bride’s side a ganji inscribed with the couple’s saju and the wedding date — this is called the napgil.
With the napgil concluded, all the pre-wedding rites were at last complete. Cramming rites that normally spanned a month and a half into six days left the preparers run ragged. Fortunately — if it could be called fortunate — this was the third wedding rite in just four years, so everyone worked hand in glove, with no time wasted in confusion.
“Oh, don’t even mention it. Everyone’s hands and feet were practically flying.”
Wiryang clicked his tongue and shook his head. He’d just gone to ask if there was anything he could help with, only to be sent back with: “We’ll manage on our own — just see to it that His Highness the Prince wants for nothing.”
“That’s just their way of saying ‘don’t get in the way — go sit over there.’”
At Huian’s words, Wiryang said sulkily, “That’s not it.”
“They asked me to ask whether you’re unwell anywhere — whether anything’s uncomfortable.”
Huian stopped his page-turning hand and looked up at Wiryang. When their eyes met, Wiryang heaved a deep sigh.
“You’ve grown so thin in five days. The heat must have worn you down too — with all this sunshine and abundance, everyone in the palace is plumping up like silkworms in spring, yet you only grow gaunter by the day. No wonder the court ladies are worried.”
“What a fuss over nothing.”
Huian said it dismissively and turned the page again. He had to master the entire Hwangshil Gyuryeak by the end of the day — and review the court’s offices and ranks besides. Only then could he look at the Inner Rules and the Outer Regulations tomorrow.
“Tell them it’s just nerves before the wedding.”
“No one will believe that.”
Wiryang was right. They’d only believe it if he showed even a trace of nerves. Nor could he blame the wedding preparations — unlike the palace staff rushing about busily, Huian had nothing he could call preparations of his own. All he’d done these past six days was chat in the inner study of Seonu Palace with the Hye envoys standing in for his family, or learn the imperial etiquette and other court customs from the eunuchs and court ladies.
“Then tell them it’s homesickness.”
Even as he said it, it struck him as funny. Huian shook his head at once.
“No — even fewer would believe that.”
In all the world, gossip traveled fastest in royal palaces. By now, most people surely knew how he’d been treated in Hye’s royal house. And everyone in Seonu Palace knew perfectly well he wasn’t the type to waste away pining for such a hometown.
“Your Highness, wouldn’t it be better to just honestly say the food doesn’t suit you?”
—
*(Two days before the wedding. Huian stops an attendant from complaining about his meals.)*
“Why say such things?”
“I mean them.”
Leave a Reply