Choe Cheok, who went by the name Baekseung in his youth, was born in Namwon. He lost his mother early in life and lived only with his father, Suk, outside of the West Gate on the east side of Manboksa Temple. Even from a young age, he was known for aiming high, being friendly, and taking promises seriously; he was also unconcerned with trifling manners.

     One day, his father lectured him.

     “You don’t study at all, and you spend your time acting like a hooligan! What are you going to grow up and become? And now that our country is at war, every village is recruiting warriors, but all you do all day is hunt and worry your old father. This is pitiful!

     “If you really put your mind to it and begin seriously reading and studying for the state examinations, you’d be able to avoid the battlefields, even if you didn’t pass the examinations. Here, I have an old friend from my youth, Saengwon Jeong.¹ He lives south of the castle, and I know he studies diligently and writes well. He is a suitable teacher for those who have just started their studies; go to him and learn.”

     From that day on, Choe Cheok lived beside his books and went to Saengwon Jeong and requested lessons. He studied hard, without pausing for breaks. After several months, his skills had improved dramatically. He wrote with the intensity of a burst riverbank, and soon, all of the villagers admired his intelligence.

     When he would study at Saengwon Jeong’s house, there was a girl about seventeen or eighteen years old, with eyes as pretty as a painting’s and pitch-black hair. She would hide beside the window and listen quietly to Choe’s voice.

     One day, when Saengwon Jeong was still in the middle of eating breakfast, Choe found himself alone, reading a book. Then suddenly, a note fell down through the crack in the window, and he picked up the note. On it was a poem about a young, unmarried maiden searching for her other half. They were from the last chapter of “Biao You Mei” in the Book of Songs.²

     He felt as if his heart and soul were fluttering in the air. He couldn’t calm down. He drifted into a daydream, imagining himself sneaking into her room late at night and imitating the old Chinese love story “A Story of Bu Feiyan.” Almost instantly, however, he realized what he was thinking and repented, warning himself with the story of Kim Tae-hyeon³ from the Goryeo Dynasty. And while Choe was quietly contemplating, morality and desire were quarreling in his heart.

     Saengwon Jeong suddenly entered into the room, and Choe hid the poem in his sleeve.

     After his lesson, he left the room. A female servant followed him out, stopping at the gate. She told him, “I have a message for you.”

     His heart was already alert because of the lines of the poem, and the servant’s words only intrigued him more. He told her he understood and asked her to follow him. Choe brought her to his house and asked her to explain the entire situation.

     The servant began, “I am Chun-saeng, a servant of Lady Yi’s. She asked me to bring her back a reply to her poem, sir.”

     Choe was puzzled and asked, “Aren’t you a servant from Saengwon Jeong’s house? Why is she called Lady Yi, instead of Lady Jeong?”

     Chun-saeng explained, “My master’s house was originally in Cheongpa-ri, outside Sungnye Gate in Seoul. Sadly, my master, Mr. Yi Gyeong-shin, passed away some years ago, and then it was just Madam Shim⁴ and her daughter living together. Their daughter’s name is Ok- yeong, and it was she who threw that note earlier today. Last year, Madam Shim and her daughter moved from Ganghwa Island to Hoejin, in Naju, in a boat to avoid the war, and this autumn, they moved again from Hoejin to here. Saengwon Jeong, the master of this house, is a relative of Madam Shim’s, and he has taken us in and treated us well. They are seeking a husband for Lady Yi, but it has been difficult to find her a suitable bridegroom.” Choe said, “Your lady grew up with a widowed mother. How is she literate? Has she simply known how to read since she was young?”

     “My lady had a brother, Deuk-yeong, and he was intelligent. He passed away before he was to be married at age nineteen. She picked up a little writing from him, so she’s able to write her name and not much more.”

     Choe offered Chun-saeng food and drink while taking out a fresh sheet of paper and composing the following letter:

     The letter I received from you this morning truly captured my heart. I can hardly contain my happiness; it is as if I have met a bird delivering good news from a land of fairies. Just as a bird that lost its partner weeps over its own appearance in a mirror, or as a husband who dearly misses his widowed wife looks at her portrait painting, I, too, have been longing and desperate to meet my other half.

     As Sima Xiangru did in the State of Han a long, long time ago, playing the zither to seduce Zhuo Wenjun, and as Jia Wu in the State of Qin did, secretly giving away her father’s precious incense, bestowed to him by the king, to her lover Han Shou, I understand that a man and woman may personally meet and connect. However, meeting you seems as difficult as going over the many peaks of Mt. Bongnaesan, which is home to the hermits, and crossing over their rough streams. But just now, as I was thinking of even the possibility that I may meet you, my face paled, and my neck grew thin in determination.

     And now, just as King Huai of Chu met a goddess in his daydream, a letter of yours was delivered to me by a fairy. If parties from both families are able to establish an agreeable relationship, the two of us could become intertwined by Wolha Noin’s thread,⁵ fulfill our three wishes⁶ and keep our wedding vows

     I cannot possibly express in words all that I feel about you, and even if I found every word, how could I use those to tell you how much I truly feel?

    Respectfully,

    Choe Cheok

Ok-yeong was delighted to receive his letter. The very next day, she sent a reply through Chun-saeng:

     I was born and raised in Seoul. Before I could master the manners of a lady, my father unfortunately passed away. Additionally, a war broke out, and my mother and I were forced to wander the south in retreat; now, we have finally settled in the house of our relative, relying on his generosity to survive.

     I am fifteen years old and have yet to marry. Therefore, I am constantly worrying about assaults, either from the infestation of bandits in this time of war or from some vicious person intent on disgracing me. For these reasons, my mother is also always very concerned and distressed.

     However, I am more concerned with finding a good husband. Since a hundred years of both happiness and hardship will depend on my husband, how can I begin to respect and rely on him if he is not a good man?

     According to what I have seen of you recently, you seem gentle, with leisurely, graceful manners, and your face glows with sincerity and faithfulness. Therefore, if I am to find a good husband, where else could I look but to you? In truth, I would rather be your mistress than become someone else’s wife. As the situation goes like that, I wonder if my ill-fated, unlucky destiny would let me fulfill my wish.

     My poem to you yesterday was never intended to be lustful. I only wanted to find out for myself how you thought of me. Even though I am unworthy, I am also not a woman selling my body on the street; how would I ever commit an illicit liaison? We should certainly inform our parents of our intentions to become officially wed. If that happens, I promise my chastity and truthfulness to you, and I will respect my husband with all my devotion.

     I have already committed a disgraceful action by delivering my poem to you personally, and I have compounded my bad act by asking you to marry me. Even worse, I have exchanged letters with you, and in doing so, I have even lost my secret chastity as a woman. In these letters, we have both laid out the innermost desire of our hearts. Therefore, I believe that we should keep our letters secret. For now, you should discuss the possibility of our union through the old matchmaking woman. I would be grateful if you handled this, for I wish to avoid my being ridiculed for unchastely fooling around with a man.

Choe Cheok was boundlessly pleased and brought up the matter with his father. “Apparently, there is a widowed lady from Seoul staying at Saengwon Jeong’s house, and I have heard that she has a young, beautiful daughter. Would you ask Saengwon Jeong about her, since it is the fastest walker that gets the prize?”

     His father replied, “The family is originally from noble background. Now, they must rely on their relative, and they are stranded far away from their home and wealth. They must be looking for a son-in-law from a rich family, not one from a family like ours, which has always been poor. I doubt they would approve of this wedding.”

     Choe kept prodding his father and told him. “Would you go and ask, at least? After all, it’s truly up to the will of the heavens to determine whether or not I will succeed, right?”

     The next day, his father went to Saengwon Jeong’s house and brought up the matter of marriage.

     Saengwon Jeong replied, “It’s true that my maternal cousin evacuated from Seoul and wandered from place to place before seeking shelter at my house. She does have a daughter who is both exceptional in appearance and behavior, and I’ve been trying to find her a suitable match to support her family. I’m well aware that your son is talented, and he would be a good son-in-law; I know he wouldn’t fail us in our expectations. However—and I’m a little hesitant to speak on this matter—your family is not as well off as she would expect. I will discuss it with my cousin, and we will revisit this matter later.”

     Choe’s father came back and relayed the news to his son. Choe spent days in anguish, anxiously awaiting news.

     When Saengwon Jeong brought up the marriage proposal to Lady Shim, she was immediately opposed. “I’ve been forced to leave my home alone, and have wandered without anybody to rely on, so I’d like her to marry into a wealthy family; no matter how smart this boy is, I will not accept him if he’s poor.”

     Later that evening, Ok-yeong desperately wanted to talk to her mother, but she hesitated and couldn’t bring herself to raise the matter.

     Her mother asked her, “Is there anything in your heart you’d like to share with me?”

     Ok-yeong felt the blush creep up her face, and hesitantly, she decided to tell her mother how she truly felt. “Mother, I’m so grateful for your love and hope for me that you want to find me a young bridegroom from a rich family. It would be wonderful if I could find such a man, one who is both wealthy and intelligent. However, if my future husband was only rich and not smart, he would struggle to keep up the family business. If I marry an immoral person, I wouldn’t even be able to bring myself to eat the rice in our house.

     “I’ve had the opportunity to privately observe Mr. Choe when he comes to study with Uncle every day. He is sincere, courteous, caring, and trustworthy, and I’ve never seen him be frivolous or reckless. If I marry him, I’d never regret my decision for as long as I live! Besides, the way of the scholar is marked by poverty. I don’t want only a rich life, one that is without righteousness. Please, Mother, support me and help me marry him. I know it’s not really my place to stand up to you and speak my mind so freely, but this is a matter that will affect my life—I can’t stay silent and passive! What if I hold my tongue and eventually get married to a tomfool of a man, somebody who would ruin my entire life? A broken earthenware steamer can never be made whole again, and a thread, once dyed, can never be white again. After that decision is made, no measure of regret could change anything.

     “Moreover, my position is unusual. Unlike other people, I have no stern, protective father at home, and there are thieves everywhere. If my husband isn’t sincere and trustworthy, how can we rely on him to protect us? Therefore, on the matter of my marriage, I cannot simply follow somebody else’s lead. I cannot stay silent and hide in the women’s chamber—such a move would only harm me and lead me into trouble.”

     Ok-yeong’s mother couldn’t help it and told Saengwon Jeong so the next day. “I thought about it again very carefully last night, and though Mr. Choe is poor, he seems to be a very fine person and scholar. Since a person’s wealth is up to the will of the heavens, and we as humans cannot change our status, I think it only proper to welcome him as a son-in-law, instead of taking a chance with some man whose disposition isn’t known.”

     Saengwon Jeong responded, “If you’re willing and sure, I will certainly arrange this match. Though Mr. Choe is poor, his nature is like that of jade. Even in Seoul, it’s rare to find a person with his qualities. With the proper opportunity, I know that he will succeed.”

     That very day, Saengwon Jeong sent for the matchmaker woman, and they arranged the engagement and set the wedding for the 15th of September. Choe Cheok was extremely delighted at the news, and he counted the days until his marriage every day with his fingers.

     Sometime later, Byeon Sa-jeong, who had been serving as a ninth-rank government officer in Namwon, raised an army of volunteer soldiers and was preparing to go to fight in the Yeongnam region. When he learned that Choe was skilled in archery and horsemanship, Byeon decided to take him in his army.

     On the battlefield, Choe was worried the whole time, and he ultimately worried himself sick. As his wedding date approached, he resolved to write to the leader of the army to request a few days off.

     The leader was offended at the request, asking indignantly, “What do you mean, you’re planning on getting married in times like these? The king is fleeing from our enemies and sleeping on the grass, so it should be right to say his subjects don't even have the time to rest by laying their heads against their swords. Moreover, you are still too young for marriage. It wouldn’t be too late to get married after we have annihilated the enemy.”

     And with that, he denied Choe’s request.

     Because her fiancé had been forced to join the army and could not return home for his wedding, Ok-yeong was also worrying herself to death about him, and she was unable to eat or sleep well.

     In town, there lived a Mr. Yang who was very rich. He had heard that Ok-yeong was smart, and heard of the rumor about Choe: that her fiancé was not coming back. Mr. Yang was looking to seize this opportunity in Choe’s absence; he wanted to arrange a match between Ok-yeong and his son.

     Mr. Yang decided to bribe Saengwon Jeong’s wife to whisper in Lady Shim’s ear, and so she did, telling Lady Shim, “You know, Choe Cheok is so poor that they must spend their mornings worrying about where dinner for that evening is going to come from. He is struggling to support his father and is already so much in debt; how is he going to support a whole family of his own? Besides, he has charged off to battle, and there’s no promise that he’ll even come back alive.

     “On the other hand, our neighbor, Mr. Yang, is well known for his wealth, and he holds a considerable amount of property. His son is a generous person—just as good of a man as Choe Cheok is.”

     The Jeong couple took turns in this effort, continuing to pressure Lady Shim and praise Mr. Yang’s son. Soon, Lady Shim was persuaded, and she set a date for their wedding on a fortuitous day in October.

     Ok-yeong heard about these plans, and she appealed to her mother immediately that night. “Choe Cheok didn’t run off; he went to volunteer in the army. His commander in charge prohibits communication, and I know that he himself has not purposely abandoned me or our marriage. Regardless of his motives, how could we possibly break the promise we made and be this dishonorable? You can tell yourself you are changing my mind and this matter, but I won’t marry another man; I’d rather die! Why don’t you understand how I feel?”

     Her mother asked, “Why are you being so foolishly stubborn? You need to follow the decisions of your elders when you’re young and don’t know any better!”

     A few moments later, Lady Shim was asleep in her bed, lost in her dreams in the middle of the night. Suddenly, she was awakened by the sounds of desperate gasping. She woke up, reaching out blindly for her daughter in her bed, but Ok-yeong was not there. Lady Shim began to panic, searching everywhere. She found Ok-yeong sprawled face down on the floor, with her neck encircled by a cloth that was tied to the window. Her daughter’s hands and feet were cold, and Lady Shim could hear the sounds of her breath becoming fainter and fainter. Soon, Ok-yeong just wasn’t breathing anymore.

     Lady Shim was shocked and cried out, untying the cloth from Ok-yeong’s neck. She hurriedly woke up Chun- saeng, her servant, with her feet and ordered her to bring a lantern. Lady Shim wailed as she held her daughter. Cradling her, Lady Shim ladled water up with a small ladle and poured it down her daughter’s throat. Slowly, Ok-yeong opened her eyes, awakening.

     Nobody spoke of Mr. Yang or his son ever again.

     Choe Cheok’s father sent a letter to his son to let him know about the recent circumstances. In the meantime, Choe Cheok had been getting sicker and sicker, and hearing about Ok-yeong sent him crashing into critical condition. The leader of the army heard the story and allowed Choe to return home immediately.

     After only a few days at home, Choe had fully recovered, and the couple celebrated their wedding at Saengwon Jeong’s house on the first of November. Nothing more needs to be said about their wedding—their perfect and beautiful union requires no further details.

     When Choe led his wife and mother-in-law through his gate, the servants were delighted. When they went over the threshold, his relatives congratulated them. His house was full of happiness, and his neighbors did nothing but compliment them.

     In their married life, Ok-yeong had the upper part of her clothing firmly tied up and worked diligently on her weaving at the loom. She even drew the water for their home herself and pounded away at the mortar in the kitchen. She did her best to be of service for her husband and her in-laws, dedicating all of her piety and devotion. Ok-yeong’s manner didn’t change whether she was taking care of her elders or managing the servants; she was always well mannered and warm-hearted. Rumors about Ok-yeong and her good manner quickly spread, and no one thought that any lady from a rich family could be a better wife than Ok-yeong.

     After his marriage, Choe was able to succeed in all of his ventures, and the house was eventually filled with his abundant assets. The couple’s only unfulfilled desire was to have a child; Ok-yeong had not yet been with child. In their desperation, on the first of every month, the couple would go to Manboksa Temple and pray to the Buddha for a child.

     The next year, 1594, on New Year’s Day, they again went to the temple and prayed. That very night, Ok-yeong found Jangryukbul⁷ in her dreams. He told her, “I am the Buddha of Manboksa Temple. Since you have been unwavering in your devotion and prayers, I am willing to bless you with an unusual boy. He will certainly have a unique mark.”

     Ok-yeong managed to conceive that month and did give a birth to a boy. After her son was born, she discovered a red birthmark, the size of a baby’s palm, on his back. Therefore, she named her son, Mong-seok.⁸

     Choe Cheok was a good bamboo flautist. He often played his bamboo f lute in the moonlight, facing the moon, or on a beautiful morning, turned towards the flowers.

     One night in late spring, the sky was clear. The breeze was gentle and the white moon was bright. Flower petals drifted and floated in the wind, brushing up against his clothes as the delicate fragrance wafted into his nose. Choe filled his glass with wine and drank it and then leaned against a desk, and played a couple of songs on the flute. The last notes lingered in the air after he finished playing.

     Ok-yeong was quietly sitting there for a while and finally broke the silence. “I understand that it’s not proper for a woman to write poetry, but my heart has already come far enough and I cannot keep silent any longer.”

     She wrote a poem and proceeded to read it:

Wangjagyo⁹ is playing a bamboo flute, the moon was quiet. The blue sky is the color of the ocean, thick with dew.

Alongside each other, riding on a blue bird and flying, Never would we be lost, even in the mist of Mt. Bongnaesan.

Choe was taken aback by his wife’s talent. He had never really thought of her as much of a poet at all. Surprised, he read the lines of the poem again himself, and they impressed him all over again. Thus, he responded immediately with a poem of his own:

In the dim land of the hermits, the dawn cloud is red, Resonating in the air is the sound of a bamboo flute with a song yet unfinished.

The lingering sound remains in the sky, as the moon sails over the mountain,

The shadow of flowers in the garden sways in the fragrant breeze.

As soon as Choe finished reading his poem, Ok- yeong felt an unbridled joy bloom inside her heart. Their excitement quickly shifted to exhaustion, and sadness took over; and then, she held her husband’s hands and cried, “There are a lot of mishaps in the human world, and good fortune always attracts trouble; therefore, it is known that unions and departures in life are unpredictable. Perhaps it is that fear that must cause helpless sentimentality.”

     Choe wiped away her tears with his sleeve and consoled her. “It is the will of the heavens that things shrink and then expand, that they are filled and then emptied. The cycle of life is natural—out of every good thing, a terrible one will follow, and that will be followed by disasters and worries. Even if misfortune befalls you, you should try to remain calm in your heart and trust and follow your destiny. What good would it do to fall into sadness? There’s an ancient saying that tells us, ‘Don’t lament and linger on your own worries,’ and another one that teaches, ‘Only mention and dwell on the good things. Stay silent on the bad.’ Let’s not ruin our pleasant hearts by putting ourselves through the agony of worry and anxiety.”

     After this day, the couple’s love deepened, and they never separated from each other for even a single day; they believed they were true soul mates, meant entirely for the other.

     In August 1597, Namwon was captured by the Japanese army. All the people in Namwon fled for safety, including Choe’s family, who escaped to Yeongok in Mt. Jirisan. Choe made Ok-yeong dress as a man in their escape. When they were in the crowd, no one recognized her as a woman.

     After a few days in the desolate mountains, their scant supply of food was gone, and they were starving. Choe and some of the other young men decided to trek down from the mountain to forage for food. At the same time, they wanted to check the positions of the Japanese army. When Choe and his group arrived at Gurye, they were confronted by the enemy and only barely escaped death by hiding behind a rock and some bushes.

     That same day, the Japanese army swept through Yeongok. The enemy forces hit every cave and ravine, plundering the whole area. The road to Yeongok was completely blocked off, and Choe was stranded away from his family.

     Three days later, when the Japanese army finally withdrew, Choe was able, at last, to get into Yeongok. Stepping foot into the village, he was overwhelmed. Corpses were piled up on the streets, and blood ran down streets in rivers. He heard the faint sound of crying from the woods. As he approached, he saw that there were some survivors: injured elderly and children.

     Tearfully, they explained what happened. “In the last three days, enemy soldiers came through the mountain, stole our property, cut people down, and took all young people prisoner. They left yesterday, and the enemy is now camped by the Seomjin River. If you want to look for your family, you should search down there, by the river.”

     Hearing this news, Choe Cheok wailed in desperation, looking up at the sky. He punched the ground in anger and vomited up blood, and immediately ran to search for his family by the Seomjin River. After about a mile, he began hearing slow, faint groans coming from the messy stacks of corpses. The faces of the bodies were covered in blood, and he couldn’t tell who they were and whether or not they were dead or alive. Among the haphazard pile, he recognized Chun-saeng’s clothes and called out loudly, “Chun-saeng? Is that you?”

     The body’s eyes snapped wide open, and her voice cracked as she tried to speak. “Mr. Choe, Mr. Choe! The whole family has been kidnapped by enemy soldiers. I was carrying baby Mong-seok on my back, and I couldn’t run fast enough for them. I was cut down by the enemy’s knife and fell here. I awoke and came to after about half a day, but I don’t know what happened to the baby.”

     As she finished speaking, she was gone, the last of her energy expended.

     Choe pounded his chest and stamped his foot before passing out and falling to his knees. After a while, he came to, but still had no idea what he was going to do. Choe managed to pull himself together and decided to head down to the Seomjin River. When he arrived, he saw a group of old people and children gathered in a huddle and covered with wounds, crying.

     He approached them and asked what happened. One of them answered, “We were hiding in the mountain when they found us and brought us here. When the Japanese soldiers reached their ship, they only took the young aboard. The rest—the elderly and children—they stabbed and left here to die.”

     Choe began sobbing in great sadness. Broken and empty, he tried to commit suicide. Only the efforts of the survivors around him saved him.

     Once he was a little more himself, Choe set off. He had no place to go, and just plodded alongside the river alone. For three days and three nights, he walked without stopping before arriving at his own house in his hometown. The fence had fallen apart, and shards of broken roof tiles were scattered over the ground. The fires that had consumed houses were still alight, and piles of corpses were strewn around haphazardly, making getting around difficult.

     Choe ended up by Geumseok Bridge, where he rested. He had depleted all of his energy in this last journey, and hadn’t eaten for days. He simply couldn’t stand up. Coincidentally, at that time, a commander from the Ming Dynasty was watering his horses underneath that very bridge. He had about ten cavalry soldiers with him, and they had come from Namwon Castle. During his stint as a volunteer soldier, Choe had had a few experiences with the Ming Dynasty, and knew scattered bits of Chinese. He told the commander his story: his whole family had been harmed, he had nobody and nowhere to go to, and all he wanted to do was to follow the commander back to China and live by himself in seclusion.

     The commander listened to his story and felt sorry for him. He told Choe, “I am Yu Youwen, a colonel under General Oh. I live in Yaoxing, Zhejiang Province. Although I am poor, I am able to support myself. I believe it’s important in life to meet someone who understands you; therefore, it is only important to follow one’s heart, wherever it may lead you to wander. You don’t have to stay in this small land in poverty.”

     He offered a mount to Choe and brought them both back to camp.

     Since Choe was handsome, scrupulous, and skilled at horse riding, archery, and writing, Yu became very fond of him. Soon, the two were sharing many meals together at the same table and many blankets together in their sleep.

     Eventually, the general’s army had to return back to Ming. Yu put Choe’s name down on the register in place of a dead soldier. With his help, Choe crossed the border, traveled to Yaoxing, and found a place to stay with the general.

     Before this happened, Choe’s family was captured by Japanese forces and taken to the Seomjin River. The Japanese soldiers considered Choe’s father and mother-in-law to be old and sick; they were not as vigilant in their guard. While the soldiers were not looking, the two hid themselves in a reed field. After the Japanese army moved on, they turned to wandering the village and begging. Eventually, they reached Yeongoksa Temple. For some reason, they heard a baby’s cry coming from the monk’s quarters inside the temple.

     In tears, Lady Shim asked Choe’s father, “Why does that cry sound just like our grandson’s?”

     Spurred into action, he opened the door and looked. Indeed, it was their grandson Mong-seok. He held the crying baby in his arms and stroked his face for a long while in silence. He then spoke, asking the monks, “Where did you find this baby?”

     A monk called Hyejeong came forward and answered, “I had heard crying from one of the piles of corpses on the streets and took the poor baby into my care. I’ve been waiting for his parents to come, and it has really happened! What is this if not help and will of the heavens?”

     Choe’s father and Lady Shim took their grandson back with them, taking turns carrying him on their journey home. There, they gathered all of their former servants and began to rebuild their household.

     In another part of the world, Ok-yeong was living under capture with a Japanese soldier. Tonu was an old soldier and a Buddhist who did not kill. He had originally been a merchant and an expert sailor. One day, a Japanese commander, Konishi Yukinaga, had recognized his skills and made him a captain.

     Tonu liked Ok-yeong, whom he thought was clever. He was afraid that she would run away and made a point to treat her well to set her at ease, providing her with clean clothes and good food. Ok-yeong managed to escape the ship many times in order to kill herself, but every time, she was caught and unable to go through with it.

     One night, Jangryukbul showed up in her dreams and said, “I am the Buddha of Manboksa Temple. Stop trying to die! You’ll find happiness in the future.”

     Ok-yeong woke up from the dreams, considered them deeply, and realized that they had given her a sense of hope. Thus, she forced herself to begin eating again to stay alive.

     Tonu lived in Nagoya. He lived only with his old wife and young daughter; no other men lived in the house. Because he didn’t realize Ok-yeong was a woman, he allowed her to live in the same house but prohibited her from entering the women’s chamber.

     Ok-yeong lied to Tonu about being a woman upon her capture. “As you may notice, I have a naturally petite build and little strength; I also get sick easily. As a result of my physique, I really couldn’t do any men’s work, even in Joseon. I can cook and sew, but little else.”

     Tonu was sympathetic and took pity on her. He called her “Sau” and placed her in charge of the ship. Every time he traveled for business, she would be by his side to Fujian and Zhejiang Province in China.

     At this moment, Choe Cheok was staying in Yaoxing. Over time, he had forged a brotherly bond with Yu Youwen. When Yu expressed that he intended on arranging a match between Choe and his sister, Choe resolutely resisted.

     “My entire family was ransacked by Japanese soldiers, and I wasn’t even able to hold a memorial service to honor my old father and vulnerable wife because I don’t even know if they’re dead or alive! In this case, how could I remarry and lead a comfortable life on my own here?”

     Yu honored Choe’s wishes, and there was no more talk of a new marriage.

     That winter, Yu died from illness, and Choe lost his home. Choe Cheok, traveling along the Yangtze and Huai Rivers and taking in the views; he saw the Longmen and Yuxue, went as far as the Yuan and Xiang Rivers, crossed Dongting Lake by boat, and climbed Yueyang and Gusutai Towers.

     As he traveled along, Choe would sing on a mountain or by a river and wander through a bank of clouds. The more he saw, the more he began to consider retiring from the world. He had heard of a Haichan ascetic called Wang Yong who lived in seclusion in Mount Qingcheng. Not only did Wang know many mystical medicines, but he was also able to wield magic, and Choe decided to journey toward the State of Shu and learn the magic.

     There lived a man named Zhu You who wrote under the pseudonym Hao Chuan within the Yongjin Gate in Hangzhou. He was well versed in scripture and history, but found no pleasure in the spotlights of his achievements. He was generous in heart and strong in justice, and Zhu and Choe grew close. When Zhu discovered that Choe was relocating to Shu, he brought drinks for Choe.

     After a few drinks, Zhu was drunk. Slurring through his stupor, he called out to Choe using his nickname: “Baekseung! Who wouldn’t want to live in this world forever? But where in the world lies such logical sense since ancient times? What could possibly be the merit of spending the rest of our entire lives taking potions for eternal life and enduring perpetual suffering and starvation, only to become neighbors of mountain goblins? Instead, take advantage of every possible opportunity in this world, right now! Travel to the States of Wu and Yue with me, sell silk and tea, and enjoy life! Wouldn’t this be what we’re supposed to do, as men who have thorough knowledge of life?”

     Choe realized the truth in Zhu’s words and ultimately resolved to travel with him.

     In the spring of 1600, Choe accompanied Zhu on business in Annam¹⁰ along with a group of merchants from the same village. As the party was arriving in Annam, approximately ten Japanese vessels happened to be anchored at the same port.

     Choe and his companions were in Annam for over ten days, all the way until the second of April. The sky was clear, cloudless, and blue; the water was as fine as silk. The wind had stopped, and all that was left was silence, without a single shadow in sight. The sailors were in a deep sleep, and only the cry of an occasional waterfowl would break the still. Layered over the silence was a Buddhist prayer from a Japanese vessel, and its sound was very sorrowful.

     Choe leaned up against the ship window, thinking about his situation, and took out a bamboo flute from his pack. He chose a sad tone, needing to express some of the melancholy that he usually kept locked away. Because of the tone of the flute, the sea and sky seemed now to be enveloped in a rueful light, and it seemed as if even the clouds and fog were filled with grief.

     The sailors were startled by his playing, woken up, and affected by the overwhelming sense of sadness. At that moment, the Buddhist prayer coming from the Japanese vessel suddenly ceased and was replaced with a poetry reading in the Joseon language:

Wangjagyo is playing a bamboo flute, the moon was quiet. The blue sky is in the color of the ocean, thick with dew.

Alongside each other, riding on a blue bird and flying, Never would we be lost, even in the mist of Mt. Bongnaesan.

     The voice stopped after the last line, replaced by the wistful sounds of sighing and tongue clacking. Hearing the poem immensely surprised Choe, and he didn’t know what to think. Not completely in control of his actions, Choe loosened his grip on the flute. He just stood there, motionless and vacant, two steps away from death.

     Concerned, Zhu asked: “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

     The questions were repeated, but Choe remained wordless. The third time he asked, Choe finally reacted: he opened his mouth, but the response was soundless. His throat choked over the words, unable to form them. Instead, he helplessly burst into tears.

     After he managed to calm himself down, Choe explained. “That poem was written by my wife. Only the two of us on this earth know it. And that voice—I can almost believe that it’s my wife’s. Could it really be her on that vessel? That’s impossible, isn’t it?”

     And then, he shared his entire story, telling everybody on the boat what he and his family had suffered at the hands of Japanese soldiers.

     All those around him on the ship were surprised by his unusual tale. A brave young man, Du Hong, reacted by pounding an oar with his fist after he heard the story. He stood up, flushed with conviction, and announced, “I shall go to the vessel and take care of this situation!”

     Zhu stopped Du and said, “If you cause a scene this late in the evening, the situation could easily turn into a catastrophe. Let us consider the problem, quietly, tomorrow morning.”

     The others agreed, and Choe sat down and waited, still, until the morning came.

     — To be continued in the next issue. —

[1] Saengwon is one of the lowest scholarly ranks given to those who pass the state examinations.

[2] The poem is found in the last chapter of “Biao You Mei” in the section “The Odes of Shao and the South” under “Lessons from the States” in the Book of Songs.

[3] Kim Tae-hyeon was a scholar in the Goryeo Dynasty. As the story goes, a widowed daughter of the house he was studying at slipped him a love poem through the window. He never returned to the house again.

[4] Madam Shim is the wife of Yi Gyeong-shin. In Korea, a woman keeps her maiden name after marriage.

[5] According to myth, Wolha Noin (“Old Man under the Moonlight”) carries red thread to connect a man and woman together for life.

[6] The wishes refer to the fulfillmentof the three lives in Buddhism: past, present, and future.

[7] A very tall Buddha statue that was inside Jangryuk Hall at Manboksa Temple. The temple burned down during the Japanese invasion of 1597, but Jangryukbul remains preserved in storage at the site of the burned temple. 

[8] The name means “to have dreamed of the Buddha.” 

[9] A fairy hermit, known for his talent with the bamboo flute, from the Chu Dynasty.

[10] A name for Vietnam used prior to 1945.

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