The Flower on the Riverbank, Book 1, The Sprout, Chapter 1 & Chapter 2
Chapter 1: From Teacher to General
"With every day that moves me closer to death's final embrace, with every dent in my armour, and after all the wars I was a witness and an executioner for, I can vouch for one thing; in the times when kings and emperors ruled over lands scorched by wars, the fleeting moments of peace compelled my people to enjoy life twice as much. May the Gods forgive me for I have waged war when I longed for peace." General Min-Jun, Devoted "Bone" of the Great Silla Kingdom.
*
The silence of winter loomed over the pale rooftops of the shacks. If the dancing columns of smoke had made sounds as they twisted upwards, their music would have brought life to this lazy scenery. Packed tightly together, the shepherds' village stood guard on the edge of an ancient forest.
The woodlands undulated together with the hills as they interlocked their shoulders as far as the eyes could see. All of the trees were white, hiding their skinny branches under a generous coat of snow. The sky had sifted its white flakes, one by one to, the ground, obscuring the vivid autumnal colours under a monotone blanket.
Everything around was preserved in stillness. No movements. No sounds. Death was walking in the forest.
Min-Jun's topknot blended into the white surroundings. He felt the need to blink to make sure he was not turned into an icy human statue. The frost was all he could smell in the crisp air. Sitting undercover for so long sent needles through his muscles. To keep the frostbite away and unstiffen his hand he traced the tip of his fingers across the ornate rooster embedded on his chest armour. Touching the frozen metal almost left his skin glued in place. The leather tunic he wore underneath was equally frozen from all the waiting he had done in the cold. And he needed to wait a little while longer.
Looking left and right, his soldiers kept as still as he did, hiding behind the trees and the snow-coated rocks. Vapours coming out of their mouths proved that they were not yet frozen to death. Only the blood under their skin ran hot in anticipation.
"General, I've counted them. Fifty, hiding like scared crows in the huts," His lieutenant startled him. The man's hushed voice as he knelt beside him with no sound was the only thing he heard in a long while. This was his soldier's way, to move with stealth and sneak up on anyone like a ghost on a moonless night. Min-Jun could swear he left no footprints in the snow.
He gave a curt nod, "Good job, Lieutenant. Go reunite with your squad!" and prepared to signal the men to advance, almost grateful he would be able to set his body into motion again.
The lieutenant grabbed his forearm to stop him mid-way. "They know we are coming." He took a couple of moments to gulp down his apprehension before continuing, "Not all the villagers have fled to safety, General. I fear we'll see innocent bloodshed.''
Min-Jun frowned; this was unfortunate, but he could not let his enemies go. Not when he and his small task force had chased them from the battlefield up to the hills. Not when they were one step closer to pushing the invaders away from his beloved Silla lands.
Every day at war became a sacrifice. And every sacrifice called for another.
He sighed out his remorse then gave his signal, leading his men out from the cover of the trees and rocks and into crawling, crouching, then sneaking. The tension was like smoke in his mouth.
As soon as they entered the village, they dashed inside every hut they could reach, pulling out their enemies, clashing swords together. Their presence was felt all around the shacks and the assailants came out to greet them with blood. A deathly rumble from their skirmish and the innocents' cry slowly took over the silence, foreshadowing doom.
Min-Jun detached from his vanguard and went to check the areas ahead. He made his way through the tight gap between several shacks. The jingle of his plate armor and the crunch of his footsteps in the snow replaced the clash of the battle behind him. His heart pounded from the adrenaline, making it hard to control his panting. As soon as he stepped out into a clearing the glint of a menacing sword came at him faster than he could blink. His instincts activated quickly enough for him to jump back into the safety of the narrow alley, saving his big nose from a sudden encounter with a sharp edge.
Blocking the exit, the young face of an enemy fighter tried to look defiant, but the coal-like narrow eyes betrayed the boy's despair.
"Do you think yourself a wolf, little lamb?" The general spoke loud enough for his opponent to hear but all he got in return were two harshly spoken strange words. In all of his experience fighting the boy's kinsmen he knew by now they were meant as an insult. "Daring and foul-mouthed. Better for you if you had stayed home to learn how to address your elders. Run back home, little lamb!"
The old general pulled his ring-pommel blade back toward his upper chest, targeting his enemy. He came out running to force him into the open, where he had space for a head-on confrontation.
The lad did not back down from the fight, nor did he show any intention to run. His youth and vivacity were on par with the general's skill and experience. The sharp Dao came hard from left or right, making Min-Jun retaliate or dodge with each attack, a little slower every time. But he would not let his age have the final word. Skillfully retreating, he lured the young soldier closer to the wooden frame entrance of one of the huts.
The boy raised his strong arm high, stretching for the sky, casting a shadow over Min-Jun's face. In the blink of an eye, the enemy's single edge sword came swishing through the air towards his head. He quickly moved out of its way, leaving the blade stuck in the frame and the young soldier's eyes agape, pulling desperately to free it.
Min-Jun danced with grace behind the soldier and, holding his head in place, in a swift move he slid his ancestral hwandudaedo against the boy's neck, whispering into his ear, "Forgive me, little lamb..." Sorrowful words that the foreign young man could not understand, nor did they matter to him anymore.
He took a couple of steps back, moving away from the young soldier's body that was writhing on the ground. Burgundy blood smudged the hilt and came trickling down, staining the general's hand and his conscience. Watching the consequences of his actions, Min-Jun allowed the gruesome image to sink in. When he turned away to get back into fighting, he found his towering figure wobbling through the air from a missed step and landing hard on the frozen ground.
The impact resonated through his bones as he cursed at whatever was the reason for his fall. His mouth snapped shut when his eyes met the lifeless peasant. He had no time to waste mourning for his fellow countryman if he wanted to spare others the same fate.
The fighting continued until the enemies' number was reduced to but a few, and they surrendered their lives to captivity and slavery. Nightfall sneaked in, aiming to push the day, with all the horrors it bore witness to, into oblivion.
Min-Jun's troops set up camp in the village and settled in for the night, waiting for the sun to come up again and allow for them to gather and count the dead. Unfortunately, no villagers came out alive from their homes.
*
A couple of specks of light amber tones pierced through the darkness. Finding a fleeting refuge from the cold, the soldiers huddled together around the fires. Warming up their stiff hands and feet, they reached for the flames as if they were more afraid of the frosty bite of winter than a stinging burn. Damp wood snapped and crackled as ambient noise, underlying the uneven tone of their voices.
The village green, now covered in white snow and sullied with patches of mud and blood, became their spot for the night camp. Min-Jun's men sat in circles in front of what used to be the blacksmith's workshop. His forge, as cold as the village he had left behind. The crude plank and barrel seesaw children used to play with, as still as the starless night.
To hide their tiredness and fright the soldiers shared drinks, jokes and tales of bravery, their faces gleaming in the faint light. Some yawned, some remained silent, many talked and forced themselves to laugh. Several men were noisier than the rest.
One of them stood up, with a flask in his hand and a weird smug look on his adolescent face. "I am telling you, my comrades, the only reason I am grateful to have lived through today is to be able to fight tomorrow." Struggling to brave out the events of the day, he made sure not to turn his gaze towards the pitch blackness surrounding them, knowing too well the number of lifeless bodies it hid away.
"You little chicken. Look at you with your big words. Weren't you the one I caught spilling his guts just before our general signalled to attack?" a man in his prime, from across the firepit mocked him as a challenge. The soldiers' wide chests moved up and down from laughter at the cutting remark.
"Aargh, let him be. Didn't you see how proud he was of his new shiny armour? Let the boy live for the fighting if it's keeping him alive." The senior of the bunch spoke in defence of his younger comrade, giving an encouraging pat over the boy firm buttocks.
General Min-Jun sat quietly, mingling and observing his men, as he often did. The boy's enthusiastic declaration and the light approach his men displayed made him dig his fingers in the snow. His stare aimlessly followed the amber ashes, dancing upward through the air and vanishing under the inky canvas of the sky.
His voice boomed out over the others', addressing every soul in sight. "Tales of bravery and valour, the patriotism you should feel in your hearts, the shine of your weapons and armour in the sun – those are fantasies and lies, I tell you. Lies meant to lure all you men into the army. Never expect glory; all you get is gore."
A sharp sword, a strong arm and a good plan were not the only devices to win a war.
Min-Jun got up and looked around, facing each of his men, not shying away from their eyes. "A warrior with a broken spirit can no longer call himself a man, let alone a soldier. Your clear heads and steady hands are all our people can count on."
He could not abstain from warning them about how all their courage and pride would scatter with the first blow of the enemy's sword, and wither with the first comrade they saw dying. The higher their expectations, the harder they fell in despair, as he had seen throughout his long career. He was a general but marshalling his troops was only part of the responsibilities he took on his shoulders.
Min-Jun's sombre comment left every soldier within ears' reach holding their tongues. The silence was overbearing as he bid his men a good night and headed for the sentries' post to make sure they had clear instructions.
The boastful young soldier from earlier sat down befuddled and leaned over to the man who encouraged him. "That speech was depressing. What is wrong with our general? I thought he was supposed to be the fiercest of them all."
"Aargh, life in the big city must have softened him up. Some say he got into tutoring younglings before the war."
"Teaching?" the young one replied, surprised. "But he is a True Bone, from a long line of generals. And famous ones at that. He must serve in the military until his death. How could he have been a teacher when he was a general?"
The older soldier shrugged his shoulders, not having an answer for this mystery, and grabbed the flask to take a sip.
*
After making his rounds, Min-Jun entered someone's abandoned home, dismissing his footman, ready to unfasten his armour by himself and go straight to bed. He stretched his worn-out old muscles on the foreign mattress, something made of animals' hides that he swiftly inspected, puzzled. Settling in, he let his mind wander to his peaceful life before the war, as a way to ease out his thoughts so he could fall asleep.
His beloved city had been bathed in the lazy autumn sun when he last saw it. He thought of walking the familiar streets, teeming with life, until his eyelids fluttered shut.
*
It was a beautiful day with fresh air and a calm breeze sweeping from the garden to the covered house deck. Under the wide eaves of the roof, protecting the imposing residence of his well-respected friend, his voice resonated loud and clear in between the brush strokes, gliding on the crisp paper.
"Young Master, do not slouch over your words. A crooked stance leads to a wandering mind. I see no way anything I am teaching you will go inside your head. Straighten your back and recite what I just told you to write down." He put his hand over the boy's shoulder blades and motioned for him to straighten his stance. The silkiness of his pupil's raven hair tickled his palm when he gave him a gentle pat on the head as encouragement.
"I know you do not raise your voice or hit me like My Lord Father. But, please don't be mad at me, Seonsaengnim Min-Jun. I promise I was paying attention." The earnest Young Master's words sounded genuine.
"How long have we had our lessons together, my boy?"
He observed as the young master counted the years spent under his tutelage and was left with seven extended fingers on his delicate, noble hands. "Mmmm, since I was six." the boy answered, after doing a quick subtraction.
After one slow nod, he added, "And in all these years have you ever seen me angry?" Pacing slowly, he walked around the study-bench, while the boy's head turned, not letting him out of his sight.
"You've never been mad at me, Seonsaengnim? Not when I make mistakes with my abacus? Or when I mix up the teachings of Confucius? Not even when I drop my sword in our fighting lessons and forget about General Sun Tzu's strategies?"
There were many lessons he wanted to teach this young master, and not all of them were related to the educational curriculum. He stopped pacing to share his wisdom. "The warm rays of the sun do a better job of removing the clothes from your back than the furious gush of wind, Young Master."
At first puzzled by the comparison, the boy's eyes glinted when he understood its meaning. "Seonsaengnim, I'll always remember you as my wise tutor with a big nose and eyes like caramels."
Eyes like caramels. The simple observation made him flinch from the recollection it brought forth. This was what his consort used to tell him. Such sweet words now only left a sour taste.
He smiled softly at the boy, confiding. "Dear boy, there is only one thing I would do wholeheartedly: teaching. But we are true bones, are we not? The bone rank system is a steppingstone for our great nation. Our paths in life were set since before we were born. And I was to be a military career man, as it was a custom in my family for generations. Neither my father nor society would have had it any other way."
"But aren’t you also a teacher? How did you do it, Seonsaengnim Min-Jun? How come the King allowed you to do both?"
"Oh, this is a secret only the King and I know," and he winked at his pupil.
The boy peered from under his dark eyelashes and offered back a complicit smile. "How about we make it a secret kept between the King, you and I, Seonsaengnim?" The daring nature of his pupil was something he always admired.
In the mild afternoon autumn air, the sounds from the streets made their way to the inner garden of the residence, and with them a distinct murmur that grew louder and louder:
"...ar....ar... War...We are at war!"
The hyped voice of the villa's doorkeeper could be overheard, coming closer. "Old master! Old master! The war has started! The war has started!" The gatekeeper ran past them, slamming his shoes on the wooden deck floor while looking for the master of the house.
After hearing those implacable words, he could see sadness seeping into the young boy's eyes. "Another war, Seonsaengnim? Does that mean you will have to leave again? And father?" After thinking for a second, with a glimmer of hope in his tone, the boy spoke again. "This time I am older, and I am already advanced with my fighting lessons. I cannot wait to join you and father on the battlefield."
While listening to the boy’s reckless words he looked at the auburn leaves falling, knowing this moment had been coming from all the reports he read before. That did not, however, make its arrival any easier. "War is not something worth being eager for, Young Master, remember this."
"Understood, My General."
A gust of wind blew clouds of leaves off a couple of the nearby trees and spun them around, while everything else fell under a surreal silence. He turned to stare with incredulous eyes. "What did you call me, boy?"
The young master looked at him with his innocent face, and answered in the most natural manner, "My General."
"Stop calling me that! I am not your general, boy. I am your tutor." His voice was strained, and anxiety surged within him.
Everything faded to white. Only himself and his pupil, keeping deathly still on his bench, made up the entire world. A world too small to be real.
A thin rivulet of blood descended slowly from the gash appearing out of nowhere on the boy's smooth neck. He pointed at his unfathomably unbothered pupil with a bloodied blade, clasped hard in his shaking hand before it was quickly dropped. At the same time, the boy fell lifelessly to the ground.
He dashed to pick his pupil's body up from the pool of blood growing wider under him. As hard as he tried, no tears arrived to ease the burning sting in his eyes, nor could he swallow to push down the sorrow catching in his throat. When he looked at the young master's face, he saw those beautiful vivid eyes had turned a deathly glassy grey, though the boy's lips were still moving, his voice as clear as he could remember it. "My General. My General."
*
"My General. My General!" his footman's anxious face loomed over him. Shaking him hesitantly, the man tried to draw him out of his nightmare. "Forgive me for waking you up like this, General Min-Jun. Three soldiers want a word with you. They insist it is urgent."
From the crude bed, Min-Jun stared at the blotchy ceiling and the rough wooden beams holding it in place. The cold winter wind howled through the slits between the planks of the shack, where there were gaps in the animal skins. His hands were frozen. It could have been from the cold. Or from the dream he kept having lately.
He slowly raised himself and rested on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes to shake the sensations from his nightmares and bring himself into reality. The last day he spent in the city, tutoring his beloved pupil, had been grotesquely transformed into a terror that returned to haunt him every night.
Since the war had started, the falling leaves had changed to falling snow. But whenever he dreamed his dreams remained constant.
"Anything suspicious during the night?" the general inquired as he massaged the old wound on his sore shoulder.
His footmen offered a military salute before informing him. "The sentries reported all was quiet."
"How are we doing with the body count?"
"Lieutenant Beom-Seok wanted me to inform you that the count and pyres will be ready before noon."
Min-Jun sighed and stood up, allowing his aide to tie the bindings of his battered armour and get him ready. The light of a new day would offer safe passage through the woods, back to their main encampment.
"I will hurry and have you ready in no time for another day at war, my General." In an effort to alleviate the stiffness in the air, the footman's dull-looking face offered him an awkward smile.
The general, however, found the man's high spirits were out of place with the introspections rewinding in the back of his mind. He grunted and found himself blurting out his gloomy thoughts.
"War with it's marching in the heat or the pouring rain. The chink of the men and their armour - my men following me without complaining. The responsibility for my men who are following me without question, whether I am telling them to set up camp, or to charge the enemy. And death. So much death, and blood, and mud. Now you tell me if this is something I should hurry to resume, soldier?"
The manservant stopped his fervent hand movements and stared blankly at him, not knowing what to say.
Min-Jun patted his cheek gently to reassure him this was a rhetorical question. "Of course, I should. I am the general after all," and returned a kind smile.
His reassuring reply put the soldier at ease, who considered it appropriate to offer his sincere appreciation. "And you are the greatest general of them all, my General. You always come up with the best plan for us to keep the fight short, be on the winning side, and lose as few souls as possible."
"Hmm, maybe I am such a great general because I despise the war. After you have lived through it for as long as I did, the only other option would be apathy.” He huffed in self-irony. “I think I am going to stick to the hate," said Min-Jun, still disappointed at himself despite the soldier's display of appreciation. He could not stomach when innocents fell victim to the clashing of their swords and arrows. Perhaps this was the reason he kept having that dream.
When he stepped out through the door a grim sight awaited him. It was the same he'd winced at the other day, but it still shook him deep within. He got lost in his thoughts as he looked around to take in the poisoned fruits of their warring endeavours.
A few of the houses had burned down by now. A couple of his soldiers did well by putting out the remaining fires to not spread to the thatched roofs of the huts. Though Min-Jun did not know who would use them when the cold, still bodies of those who had not fled were lying on the ground. At least there was no more screaming, no more cries, only the fire crackling in the old wood of the houses.
But the people's pleas, the babies' wails, remained all too fresh in the general's memory because when he closed his eyes, he could still hear them; a distant cry that would come to haunt his dreams.
A company of soldiers carefully approached, while their steps, squashing the mud and debris under their feet, remained unnoticed. "My General, we found a baby in a house, over there," and a tall, young-looking boy, in his brand-new armour, awaited with his finger pointing to make sure the general paid him attention. "I checked the noise with my companions. What should we do about him?"
Min-Jun opened his eyes and turned his head to face three of his soldiers, one of whom he remembered from somewhere. As much as his man insisted, he still found it hard to believe that the cry he was hearing was real and not a remnant of his memories.
Without hesitating further, he bowed his head in acknowledgement and headed towards the small shack, with the soldiers walking close behind. He hoped that if he did see a baby crying, he would be pulled from his reverie into reality and he could move forward with his men once again.
Indeed, there was a baby in the hut, still lying in his dead mother's embrace, screaming his lungs out in between gnawing hungrily on the tiny wooden figure of a bear. It was a miracle how the sword buried in the woman's back had left the infant unscathed. A few inches more and that blade would have sent the child on a never-ending journey, alongside his mother. Her fingers, now rigid with death, still clasped his delicate frame tightly, either hoping she would keep him safe with her own body or simply as the last goodbye she could offer. Perhaps it was both.
The general sighed at the heart-wrenching sight and prepared his speech to share the hard facts of being in the army and at war. "We can do nothing to help him. In the future remember: we must leave any injured or orphans behind. It would be better to put this child out of his misery since we cannot take him with us." The general addressed them but was almost at a loss of words when he saw the dismay filled their faces. "I will make sure to inform all your other comrades in the new company of how we do things in the army," he added with gentle finality.
"My General, leaving him behind? Killing him? This is too cruel," the youngest of the men blurted out, bewildered.
Min-Jun now remembered why that soldier's face was familiar. It was the bragging young fool from the other night. "This is what we call mercy," he concluded grimly, his cold tone hiding what he really thought about it.
The death of a child was supposedly a lesser thing. Children were considered to have one foot in the living world and another in the spirit world until they fully matured. Sending them back into death's arms was hence not frowned upon by most. Yet, the prospect of abandoning this crying infant left his three young recruits livid.
He bowed his head to decide whether to smother the infant or simply abandon him to his fate. However, something made him take another look at the crying man-cub, who did not appear to be older than five or six months.
The baby's wailing reminded him of a not-so-distant past when he would hold his daughter in his arms trying to calm her down. His daughter, who he had lost so very early on, could have been right here in this baby's place. The longing for those plump cheeks he had so ardently kissed moved him closer in an attempt to soothe his shattered heart. But the baby stared back at him with bright blue eyes, like a crystal-clear mountain lake, and a name spurred in the general's mind: Soo-Ah, meaning beautiful water.
Such eyes were not common for this area, but also not unseen. They showed up from place to place, with immigrants arriving from the central continent, coming down the mountains, fleeing other wars. As if it was possible to flee war. War can erupt anywhere.
Taking a better look at the child's mother, she did not appear to be Silla, but the child had a resemblance to his kinsmen, except for those startling eyes.
"Soo-Ah is a girl's name. What if this baby is not a girl?" thought the old general. His men saw the change in his face and realized with some relief that at this moment, at least, mercy had touched his heart.
Chapter 2: The Unlikely Friends
As soon as the war ended, Min-Jun put his General's sword and his teaching skills in storage, and he retired to his countryside farm. He could not bring himself to leave the child with the blue eyes behind and planned to raise her as his granddaughter. The god of war who had taken so much from him seemed to finally have given something back. Later, he would tell Soo-Ah that she was reborn in the war, though the girl was most likely born in spring.
After his first years of military service were completed with honour, the king rewarded General Ming-Jun with a fertile patch of land, in the province of Wiryeseong, together with several slaves. The property was tucked away behind the hills of the northern territory, between two rivers, near a prosperous village.
The general settled here after the war, appreciating the great distance he put between his new home and family and those prying and judgmental eyes from the capital.
*
"Soo-Ah! Soo-Ah!? Where did you hide, you ungrateful child? Come out this instant! What no-good thing are you up to with that rascal, Jung-In? I swear I will tell the ol' master, and he will leave you both without supper! Soo-Ah! Jung-In! Come out right now!" The reprimands of Ha-Rin Noona, the housemaid, could be heard echoing all around the general's manor, every day.
She sat in front of the open gate, under a canopy of blanched clay tiles, shielding the entrance into the courtyard. The maid took a couple of steps and stopped in the middle of the road, which connected the manor to the village and, eventually, the rest of the kingdom. Looking along the traditional white fence, until it turned into a clump of closely intertwined trees, she saw no trace of the two children.
Perhaps they were hiding in one of the three buildings that made up the complex of the manor, as they did every so often. She returned to the courtyard, no longer noticing the weather-worn wooden sign that greeted any traveller knocking on the front gate. It held a meaningful blessing scrawled over its surface: "In a world filled with dreamers, the bravest are the ones who follow their dreams."
"Jung-In, you naughty boy, you better not have brought Soo-Ah near the river again. You just watch as I tell your papa, Han-Gyeol. Your butt will feel the sting of that administrator's rod," she continued to call, after looking for the two all around the courtyard, knowing how they liked to hide to make her seek them out. Though she knew it was not as much an issue of having Jung-In bring Soo-Ah anywhere since the little girl tailed him everywhere.
"Ol' master better start giving you lessons soon, and set you both on the righteous path." she grumbled in a voice meant only for her ears to hear, as she passed by the building that housed the principal sitting area, the master's study and the kitchen.
Finding no trace of the children in the living quarters, the young servant headed with hastened steps on the old worn path leading from the back entrance, past the animal pen, all the way to the cultivated fields. Only the small grove, shielding the river that peacefully carved its way through the bedrock, could be seen as she skimmed the horizon. But, even here there was no trace of the almost five-year-old girl and the unruly boy.
Taking one deep breath, Ha-Rin got ready to give one more try calling, "Soo-Ah! Jung-In! You better not be playing again in the old burrow. Remember how you two got head lice? Want me to shave your heads again? Your hair should have been all the way to your waist by now. Don't you bring shame to the ol' master's name again!"
Ha-Rin remembered how the children sat together in their chairs, with tears streaming on their cheeks and holding their hands for comfort. The locks of hair came down in the same rhythm as their teardrops and carpeted the slab floor in the kitchen. There was something about that image of the two of them, sitting together, that stuck with her.
Not getting any answers, she shrugged her shoulders before returning to prepare dinner. If all else failed, hunger would guarantee that the naughty pair showed up at the table. Every day followed the same pattern for those two. And tomorrow would be no different.
*
Soo-Ah chased and climbed after Jung-In through every nook and cranny as if they were glued at the hip. The administrator's boy had taken on his shoulders one unsought responsibility: to act as Soo-Ah's big brother. And he did not know how to better dodge his duties. Being a Big Brother was a role unfit for this unruly child because he could not behave any less like a big brother. He was mildly interested in his peculiar blue-eyed play companion but whenever they would play together he would end up teasing her and that spelt trouble for him. So he tried to ignore her as much as he could.
The games he had in mind always ended up in disaster anyway, or with the two of them fighting. He was two years older and demanded obedience. She, in turn, was stubborn and never wanted to upset her grandfather. Yet, she could not help herself not follow Jung-In's lead. Not a day would pass by where Soo-Ah was not running after him in tears, yelling after the boy, with a lisp, "I will tell Grandfather!"
Most often she was enraged how Jung-In made fun, calling her a toothless duckling because of the way she was speaking after she'd lost her two front teeth. And they would take a long time to grow and would leave her with a tooth gap.
Playing around the manor, they could go unseen from morning until dusk. The sun was about to set, yet Jung-In showed no intention that he was willing to break away from the "fast egg - sturdy egg" competition.
"Jung-In, we need to go home. I think Noona is looking for us. Grandpa will scold us again." Soo-Ah's small quick steps were not fast enough to catch up with Jung-In wide and sure strides, as he climbed the mound to reunite with his village friends at the top.
He was in second place in their race, and the egg he'd stolen from the chicken coop this morning was still in good shape. Plus, it looked so interesting after painting it with the old master's ink stick and inkstone. It left his fingers smudged but all was worth it to gloat in the admiring gasps he got from the four other boys he was racing against. Second place was not good enough for such a cool-looking egg. Or for his ego.
"Stop nagging me, Soo-Ah. Go home by yourself." He yanked his white peasant blouse from the girl's hand, as soon as she grasped it between her delicate fingers.
"What's the matter, Jung-In? You ′bout to go home a loser 'cause of a girl?" one of his friends teased, making all the others laugh.
Soo-Ah resentfully stuck out her tongue at them. She did not care about what those rude boys were saying. They had never liked her anyway. And the feeling was mutual. Her grudge took root when they did not let her take her turn in playing with the kites at the seasonal fair held in the village.
"Jung-In, it is only a stupid race. It's getting dark. I am scared to go home alone," and Soo-Ah turned to search with her eyes for her home.
The gentle slopes of the hills around were littered with paddy fields, already restored to their rectangular shape after the caprices of winter. The villagers' and slaves' chatter, while sprinkling rice seeds on the barren soil, could be heard all around, together with the whistles and tongue clicks that cautioned the oxen to behave. On occasion, chants were sent towards the honeyed colored sky, blessing the upcoming harvest. It was the season of the ploughing and another day was coming to an end.
The manor was not far and the outline of the familiar buildings called to Soo-Ah from behind. She was unwilling to answer that call, not because she was afraid, but because she was dead set on not returning without Jung-In.
Already annoyed by his friends teasing him, Jung-In snapped at her. "Leave me be, stupid! I told you not to follow me today. This is boys' business. Shut up and wait, or just go!"
Jung-In left her in her spot, midway. He knew too well how she was pouting and staring with resentment at his back as he got acknowledgement from his friends for putting a simple-minded girl in her place. This was a serious competition and a sheepshead such as her could not comprehend its importance. Jung-In crouched and analysed the barren pathway down the small hill. He already had in mind the trajectory. Only two more wins in this race and he would be declared the victor. His adversary did the same and was brimming with confidence.
The other boys started to count, spreading the tension and deepening the concentration. "One egg roll! Two egg rolls! Three egg rolls!" On the count of three, the boys let their eggs roll away and held their breath in anticipation to see which one would get to the finish line first. If the fragile eggs changed direction and hit a rock everything would be lost.
Soo-Ah followed with her eyes as they came wobbling past her and got an idea. She dashed to catch the dark painted one.
"No! What is she doing?" the boys began lamenting and came running after her. By the time they were all at the base of the hill Soo-Ah already had the egg tight in her palm, keeping it safe behind her back. The boys surrounded her and began to nag and shove, demanding to return what she stole.
"Give me back my winning egg!" Jung-In tried to take a hold of her hand.
Stepping back to evade him, a cracking sound was heard. Soo-Ah's plaited sandal was covered in egg yolk.
"Oh, no! My egg!" shouted the owner of what was now a cracked shell mixed in with some dust. Jung-In's friend jumped at Soo-Ah and pushed her hard, angered out of his wits. Her bum landed on the rugged surface of the earth. Jung-In's egg was also smashed in the process.
Here they were, three of the boys, looking quizzically at each other, two eggs and one girl's tush slammed to the ground, one boy fuming and another about to get his ass whooped.
Jung-In's face reddened with fury. No one was allowed to touch his Soo-Ah in this manner. He launched at his friend to tackle him in the middle of the field.
Everyone else got excited about having found a new distraction and began chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
The two boys were rolling around, raising clouds of dust in the air like a fine mist. They winced as they pulled at the hair and clothes, pinching and smacking each other. Soo-Ah was the only one who tried to break them apart with her tiny hands, yanking at whatever part of their bodies she could lay hold of and begging them to stop. She tried her best until one of the boys chanting stopped her from ruining their fun.
*
A faint reddish glow on the horizon illuminated the pastoral setting. By now, the oxen had been set free from under the burden of their ploughs and were goaded towards the stables, taking along the flies that had been pestering them all day. The workers were picking up their bundles, ready to get home and wash off the sweat and the smell of manure and stirred soil from their skin, for one night at least, until the next day.
Trailing behind them, two wee silhouettes walked on the dirt path, bordering the cropland. The boys' fight eventually ended when Jung-In could not be budged from sitting on top of his friend and he was declared the winner. At least he'd managed to win something today, apart from a busted lip and dirtied clothes. Soo-Ah walked by his side, peeking at his sour expression, guilt chewing at her conscience. She tried to take him by the hand but he jerked it away, letting out a displeased "Ntz!"
"Your clothes are all stained, Jung-In. And how are you going to explain your face to your father?" the little girl asked, in an attempt to appear caring, yet above everything that had happened.
"What's it to you? You did not care much when you dared to touch my precious egg."
"I'm sorry. I wanted to make you come home with me."
In his exasperation, Jung-In stopped and threw his hands in the air. "Why do I have to do everything with you? You should have stayed home when I told you so," and he started walking again, with purpose. It was indeed getting late. A miracle would be required for them not to get an earful from Noona.
"But I don't like to play alone," she muttered under her breath.
Jung-In heard her well enough to sting her with his reply. "And I don't like silly girls sticking their nose in my business. What if I don't want to play with you anymore?" He was angry at her. If it wasn't for her dummy head, he would have already won his race and they would be home by now.
Frustrated, Soo-Ah raised her voice, "I will tell grandpa! And he will tell the magistrate to give you a straw-mat beating."
"Why he gonna' beat me for?" Jung-In asked her, puzzled.
"For not playing with me!" Soo-Ah replied, crossing her arms.
"Who says I should play with you?"
"The law. Big brothers should play with their sisters."
Jung-In creased his forehead trying to recollect something. " I never... That's not the law!" he snapped, "They don't give beatings for that."
"Yes, they do!"
"No, they don't!"
"Then I'll... I'll..." She snarled at him and shoved his shoulder. Instead of budging the sturdy boy from his spot, she ended up pushing herself away unwillingly. It was like shoving a rock, immovable in the ground. But she did not care. So what if he was chubby and taller than her. How could he say he would not play with her anymore? He was her big brother. It was his duty.
Jung-In could not abstain from laughing at her puny attempts, easing his inflamed state in the process. "What are you trying to do with those tiny hands? How stupid are you? You cannot fight me." He amused himself at the possibility. After all, he'd just fought one of his friends for her.
Soo-Ah thought teaching him a lesson for laughing and for not playing with her was not a bad idea, while her disappointment laid fuel on her anger. "I'm going to spank your butt for being an idiot!" she spat out, every word forceful with her determination.
"You would not dare. You are only a stupid little girl," Jung-In goaded her, feeding on every reaction he could get from his unique, life-long companion.
So, now he was provoking her. Fine. She would show him what she was capable of. Soo-Ah looked around and picked up a sturdy stick and chased Jung-In with it, yelling after him, "You promise you play with me tomorrow!"
The boy loved the chase and his distinctive pair of amber eyes lit up. Those eyes were the most beautiful asset of his face as they had the magical power to project whatever he had going on inside, making anyone looking at them empathize. "Na Na Na. I am too fast for you! Not gonna' play with you!" Jung-In melodically teased the girl who was tailing him and making futile swings with her stick.
In a fit of despair, Soo-Ah threw the stick at the boy's head, and somehow the stick did not miss its target. Jung-In fell to the ground with the left part of his back-head throbbing. The pain hurt him less than the fact that she had dared to hit him. He rubbed the lump and ruffled his brownish hair.
"Look what you did to me, stupid! It hurts. What if I die from all this pain? I am telling on you. You just wait, Soo-Ah!" Once he got up, he started to run for the house.
After a brief feeling of triumph, Soo-Ah soon realized what she had done. Hearing Jung-In would snitch on her she became furious. He was the one making all this trouble, and she was only trying to teach him a lesson. She ran after the boy to catch him before he could reach her grandfather.
*
Master Min-Jun and his administrator were in the main sitting area, discussing the ongoing ploughing, ahead of dinner. They were deep in thought, concentrating on how to better distribute the labourers and if the slaves previously owned and set free were going to be enough. Their attentive computations were complex and needed no interruption, but interruption comes when least expected. Jung-In's voice was heard as soon as he entered the courtyard and both adults tensed up, knowing nothing good would follow.
"Old Master, Old Master, look what Soo-Ah did to me. She hit my head. It hurts so bad, old master. Why would she hit me?" Jung-In whined, catching his breath to sound coherent and, at the same time, pretending to be in tears to sound more compelling. He forgot all about how the oil lamps in the room would bring to light the truth of how he was all smudged and bruised.
Panting from trying to catch up with Jung-In, Soo-Ah slipped and almost fell at the threshold, but that did not deter her from telling her side of the story, "Grandpa, Jung-In said he will not play with me anymore!"
Ha-Rin Noona entered from the kitchen only to have her eyes grow wide in shock when she saw Soo-Ah's face dirty with grime and traces of tears. The boy's appearance was not encouraging either. "What have you two been up to?" She turned them around one by one to assess the damage and dusted off their clothes, thinking sourly about how she would have to scrub the fabric to make it look new.
The two of them ignored their Noona, fighting instead for the old general's attention.
"Old Master, tell her she is not supposed to hit me."
"Grandpa, tell him to play with me!"
The old general tried not to appear amused at the conversation. He put on a stern face as he commanded attention with a cough into his hand. He needed to address the seriousness of the situation after all; hitting each other. Bad words and banter were one thing, but he did not like when things got physical as he was afraid of how it could degenerate. Keeping the children apart was not an option either since they should learn to mend their differences soon.
"First of all, both of you are late and you came back home in this deplorable state. Only the gods know what you got yourselves into and I want to hear none of it. On top of that, Soo-Ah, Jung-In, you know how I feel about hitting and that I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour."
Old Master's tone was harsh and made the two children bow their heads in embarrassment. Then, he added in a softer note, "If one of you hits the other the rule is that I will punish you both. In my eyes, it doesn't matter who did something wrong out of you two, as the other one should have done his best not to start a fight."
Soo-Ah did not need encouragement to bring to light Jung-In's misdeeds of the day. "He did something wrong, Grandpa," she pointed her accusing finger at her lacking big brother. He was the one who wanted to rat on her, so she should feel no remorse for doing the same. "He stole an egg. He messed with your ink and he fought one of the village boys."
Jung-In stared at her from under his lush eyelashes with his mouth corners bent downwards. The reproach in his eyes made Soo-Ah avoid his gaze and stare at the ground. She was not so sure she was doing the right thing anymore.
"Enough!" the old master's voice barked. "I want you two to apologize to each other right now for your wrongdoings. First you, Soo-Ah."
Soo-Ah was struggling to utter the words, "I...um... I am sorry for hitting you, Jung-In."
"Good. Now you, Jung-In." encouraged the old master sternly.
The boy glanced with scared eyes at his father's infuriated gaze, knowing full well what was coming for him after, then he answered, "All she said was true. Please forgive me, Old Master. And I am sorry I said I would not play with her," said he with sincerity in his voice, and then continued, feeling his frustrations bubbling up. "But she never likes what I do, Old Master. She always yells at me and calls me stupid."
Listening to the boy's words, Soo-Ah's eyes grew wide in protest. "That is not true, stupid. You always do stupid things; you always pick on me and you never listen to me."
"Why should I listen to you, stupid? I am a boy, and I am older." protested Jung-In while he and Soo-Ah were in each other's faces arguing.
"Older, yes, but you are a stupid boy, stupid," retorted Soo-Ah crossing her arms to make sure she had the last word.
The old general had his way of calming down the children. "It seems only punishment would bring peace between you two. How about both of you will be in charge of feeding the chickens for the next ten days? Also, Soo-Ah, for hitting Jung-In you will have to share your rice cakes with him. You will both have your desserts together at the table, in silence. Now go and ask your Noona to take care of that hit on your head and a busted lip, my boy." and the old master dismissed them so he could get back to more important issues.
Jung-In went to find Ha-Rin Noona, in the kitchen, hoping she would be able to mend his head, but also dreading the pain his buttocks would suffer from the beating his father would give him before bedtime.
*
Administrator Han-Gyeol was very harsh with his boy, especially when he upset the young lady of the house. No matter how many times he tried to tell him, there was no convincing Jung-In that he should treat Soo-Ah with the proper respect as she was the lady of the house and his mistress. His temper frequently got the best of him and he often hit his son and punished him.
When night came, Jung-In was lurking around the servant quarters, delaying for as long as he could the moment he would need to confront his father. But he could no longer stall when Han-Gyeol called his name. He hesitated to enter the room, but once he did he went straight to wash his hands and face before going to sleep. His father imperiously sat on his bed watching the boy's movements, waiting to see if he would dare to say something.
Jung-In behaved as nothing had happened and his father became even more aggravated until he could no longer repress his anger. He jumped from the bed and grabbed the collar of his son's shirt, while water was still dripping off his young face.
"What did I tell you, ha? Why you keep making trouble for me? When will you ever learn to show some respect to Young Mistress Soo-Ah, boy?" His harsh tone aligned with his crude gestures, as he hurled his son on the bed and yanked down his pants.
With his wooden rod, he lashed at his son and for each hit, he spat out his recrimination.
"This is for chasing the chickens and stealing their eggs when Ha-Rin told you not to do that anymore!" The speed of the hit made the stick hiss through the air, followed by Jung-In's muffled cry.
"This is for disrespecting the young mistress!" Another hit echoed as it bounced from the boy's buttocks.
"This is for interrupting me from my work with all your nonsense! This is for upsetting the ol' master! And this is for you to remember not to do that again!"
By the end of the ordeal, the sheet under Jung-In's face was wet from his tears. His hand was bruised from all the biting he did to keep muffled his cries, which he did so as not to give satisfaction to his father. And the last thing he wanted was for Soo-Ah to hear him crying because of a couple of blows.
With sweat beading on his forehead and his normally neat hair tousled from the exertion, Han-Gyeol sat on the bed next to his son, his fury spent, and patted the back of his head gently, "What am I to do with you, boy? If only your mother was still to walk on this earth, maybe you would have listened to her. You want ol' master to chase us away because of you? We have a good life here. Make sure you do what it takes so that we keep it that way. No breakfast or lunch for you for the next ten days. You will learn the value of having a good roof over your head. And no leaving your room. You will stay here and think about all of your mistakes."
Jung-In said no words aloud that night, to his father, but in his head, he swore to himself he would grow up, and no matter what it would take, he would have no one else tell him what to do. And maybe, one day he would pay back his father for all those whippings. The pain and bruises on his buttocks would fade, and with them, all the lessons his father struggled in vain to imprint in the boy's flesh.
*
The next day, when their punishment of feeding the chickens began, Soo-Ah asked Jung-In why he did not come to eat breakfast, and he reluctantly told her about his other punishment. The girl heard her friend's stomach rumbling. When they met again the next day to fulfil their duty, she wordlessly handed a part of her breakfast to him which she had snuck out.
"Is this for me? But you already have to share your rice cakes." Jung-In could not believe what he was seeing. He was both gratified and ashamed.
"I need to feed you. Who knows what will happen to you if I let you go hungry?" replied a worried Soo-Ah."What if you die? Or worse, what if you have no more strength to pull me in my cart?"
The small wooden cart had been made by "Uncle" Han-Gyeol for Soo-Ah to carry her toys. But after having it sit in the courtyard for some time, she had a brilliant idea. She ended up making Jung-In pull her around in it, and despite his initial unwillingness, the boy ended up doing it gladly. He loved to listen to the little girl's squeals of delight as he raced around the yard.
For the next ten days, they would spend the time after supper alone, inside, in front of the hearth, enjoying their desserts. With nothing else to do, Jung-In started telling her the stories he learned at night-time from his father, about the gods of old. The girl found the tales thrilling and listened raptly.
One night, he stared Soo-Ah directly in the eyes, "You know the god of water, Habaek? I heard he can put out fires with just one look. Since you have eyes like water, I am sure Habaek gave them to you and blessed you so you can also put out fires. Why don't you try it now? Come on, just stare at the fire and let's see if you can do something."
Soo-Ah gave him an untrusting look: "Pfft, my eyes? A gift from the gods? I do not know..."
"Oh, come on. What could go wrong? Just stare at the fire and we will see," insisted Jung-In.
"What if I put it out? It would be dark and Noona will tell us a thing or two," worried Soo-Ah.
"How would she know it was us? Come on, you can just try it. If it works, I will not snitch on you," said Jung-In with a perky grin on his face.
Intrigued, Soo-Ah agreed, "Fine, here I go, but I am sure it is just a stupid idea anyway." The girl with eyes like beautiful water stared intently into the flames as Jung-In watched her, holding his breath. The flames flickered.
"Wow, did you see that, Soo-Ah? You almost did it!" said an overexcited Jung-In.
"No, do you think it was me?" The same excitement took over Soo-Ah.
"Yeah, come on, try again." encouraged Jung-In.
"Okay, Okay." She began staring again, but this time nothing happened. "Oh, I guess I did not get a gift from the gods after all," said the girl. Her excitement vanished from her expression.
"No way. I am sure you have a gift," he insisted. "You did see the flames move just then, right? Maybe it's something like you have to stare into a really great fire or be in some sort of danger. This is how these powers work, you know. They are for serious times. But for now, we can practice more. What do you say?" The boy put his arm over her back as if he was giving moral support.
"And if I practice, do you think I will get better?" a coy Soo-Ah wondered.
"Pfft, of course. What does the old master always say? Practice makes perfect," said Jung-In with a grin, feeling all-knowledgeable like the old master.
===================================================================
Title: The Flower on the Riverbank, Book Series: The Sprout, The Bud, The Bloom
Genre: Romance, Historical Fiction
Age Range: 17-Up
Word Count: The Sprout 52000 words, The Bud 65000 words, The Bloom 82000 words
Author: L. A. Ruel
Why your project is a good fit: "The Flower on the Riverbank" is a classic coming of age story, placed in an exotic setting; Old Korea. What makes it unique is its ability to become a cult love story through its endearing characters. It also tackles issues related to war, the impact of childhood experiences and the position of women in society with parallels being drawn between modern-day and Eastern Asian archaic era.
Target audience: Young Adult, New Adult
Hook: "Hmm, maybe I am such a great general because I despise the war. After you have lived through it for as long as I did, the only other option would be apathy.” He huffed in self-irony. “I think I am going to stick to the hate."
Synopsys: An old general, battered by wars in body and in spirit, finds himself face to face with a chance at redemption; rescuing an orphaned baby with strange blue eyes. What follows is a slice-of-life spanned over a couple of years where Soo-Ah gets to bond with an unruly boy and becomes childishly infatuated with a young and alluring man. Until she becomes the victim of her own curiosity and witnesses how that young man gives in to his carnal lust. A young child's eye interprets what she sees as men subjugating women. That, coupled with the violent events that unfold around, a new war she must face on the battlefield together with her grandfather, which forces her into disguising as a boy can spell only one thing for the impressionable girl; men are evil. Until an unplanned encounter with a kindhearted soldier, a young and dashing general and a familiar face. Her grandfather will eventually succumb to his own fate leaving his adopted grandchild, now a young woman, in the care of a shrewd and proud young general. (The Spout) The other two books follow Soo-Ah navigating the difficulties of being a noble lady in a world foreign to her, overcoming her own inner demons, and determining her path in life based on what she believes in.
Bio: I call myself a storyteller as I have nor the education, nor the experience to say I am a writer. But writing is more than a hobby. Who would call a hobby something that keeps them occupied 24/7, either in thought or actions? My writing style is narrative with a pinch of descriptions on the side. I like to mix the genre fiction with literary elements to make the readers' experience memorable. To have their ears buzzing at the musicality of the phrases and their face smiling at their meaning, thus making them personally involved in the story. Or at least this is what I strive for.
I have a master's degree in economics and work in IT. I live in Bucharest, Romania and English is my language of choice.