Chapter 21 …
“Lady, someone has arrived from the Grand Prince’s residence.”
A messenger from Grand Prince Anpyeong’s residence arrived just before the end of the evening hour. Closing the book she had been reading, Hong-a took a deep breath. First impressions were important, and she worried whether she could win his favor.
Changing out of her skirt, wrinkled from long hours of reading, she made her way to the Grand Prince’s residence.
As the Crown Prince had said, it wasn’t far. Just past one alley and up a small hill, it stood within sight—a distance close enough that her mother would feel at ease.
When the servant who had come to fetch her opened the main gate, Grand Prince Anpyeong was already waiting in the courtyard. Hong-a, palms damp with sweat, wiped them on her skirt before bowing her head deeply.
“Uncle, I fear my sudden visit must have been inconvenient, yet you welcome me so warmly. I am grateful.”
“What needless formality. To receive a guest is always a joy. On the contrary, I was bored, and I should thank you for coming to see your uncle.”
Grand Prince Anpyeong replied with a hearty laugh. Though they had only met a few hours earlier, Hong-a could already tell he was different from Grand Prince Suyang—straightforward, yes, but with a freer, more easygoing spirit.
He was not overly bound by rigid formality, yet he still showed her, the Crown Prince’s daughter, due respect. A kind of person she had rarely encountered.
He guided her toward a pavilion. From there, lush green trees stretched into view, and a breeze so cool it made one forget the summer heat flowed through the open space.
The playful wind tickled the loose strands of her hair, soothing her tense heart. Unconsciously, a smile crept across her lips.
“You’ve arrived. Forgive us, the preparations were rushed and may be lacking, but please come inside.”
The Lady of the house, already seated in the pavilion, welcomed her with a smile. The table had already been set. Hong-a quickly replied after glancing at the dishes.
“Lacking? It looks filled with care.”
It was no empty courtesy. For such a sudden visit, there were several side dishes, and even a large chicken stew. Stew under the open sky, with mountains in view—something she had never enjoyed in her past life.
“Of course, it cannot compare to what you’re served in the palace. I fear it may not suit your taste.”
“I eat anything well. And with such a view, whatever enters my mouth will be delightful.”
Once Grand Prince Anpyeong and Hong-a were seated, the meal began.
The food itself was nothing extraordinary, but eating while surrounded by trees was an entirely new experience. Her heart, which had been stiff with worry, slowly warmed.
“The food is delicious, and the scenery magnificent. This is a wonderful residence.”
She spoke with sincerity.
“This place is my pride.”
His face beamed with joy.
When he had first set up a residence outside the palace, he had begged his father to let him choose the site himself. From the timber to the roof tiles, every piece had passed through his own hands.
In summer, it brimmed with green life; even in the barren winter, it was warm and inviting. A true paradise.
Hong-a was captivated, spellbound by the view—something she could never see within the palace walls.
After some time, she noticed her bowl was nearly empty. Hesitantly, she spoke.
“A poem came to mind, though I lack the talent. I am embarrassed to recite it before Uncle and Aunt.”
“You know poetry?”
“Grandfather and Father would occasionally read to me.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. But the lines she intended to recite were actually from the book she had been reading earlier. There was no need to explain that detail.
“Well then, let’s hear the poem Hong-a has thought of.”
To her surprise, he showed genuine interest. Nervously swallowing, she closed her eyes. She could not bear to meet his gaze under the weight of her own tension.
“문여하사서벽산(問余何事棲碧山)하니, 소이부답심자한(笑而不答心自閑)이라. 도화유수묘언거(桃花流水杳然去)한데, 별유천지비인간(別有天地非人間)이라.”
“‘When asked why I dwell among green mountains, I smile and remain silent, for my heart is at ease. The peach blossoms drift away with the flowing stream, revealing another world beyond this mortal realm.’”
As Hong-a finished, Anpyeong interpreted the verse aloud.
Peeking open her eyes, she searched his face for a reaction. Since she had no real expertise in poetry, she feared being exposed under the scrutiny of someone so well-versed.
But instead of criticism, he simply sat with eyes closed and a gentle smile—his expression calm, unreadable.
As the silence lingered, it was the Lady who finally broke it.
“I had heard that the young lady was bright, but to recite poetry at the age of seven—how remarkable.”
Hong-a quickly replied, flustered.
“You flatter me. I only repeated what I once heard from my elders.”
“To call it mere repetition—why, even ten-year-olds struggle to memorize poetry. Compared to others your age, you are most clever indeed.”
Her heart lurched.
Did I overstep?
Though an adult inwardly, she always had to pretend to be a child. She tried to act like a precocious child, but finding the right balance was hard. Especially since her cousins, Prince Suchun and Prince Ikhyeon, set a rather low bar. Compared to them, she always seemed clever—and at times, too clever for her age.
Was the poem too difficult? But among the ones I knew, this was the most suitable…
While she was chastising herself, Anpyeong slowly opened his eyes.
“So that is why my elder brother speaks so proudly of you.”
…Just what on earth has Father been saying about me?
Embarrassed, she lowered her head.
“I had heard both from His Majesty and from my brother that you were clever, but I did not imagine it to this extent.”
“It was merely a familiar verse, nothing more.”
“In truth, even boys of your age rarely master the Thousand-Character Classic, let alone poetry.”
At his words, an involuntary sigh escaped her lips.
She had spent so much time among boys that she had forgotten the reality of women’s education in this era. Even as a royal-born girl, no tutor had been assigned to her. In hindsight, it was natural.
“Do you understand the meaning of the poem?” he asked, noticing her distraction.
“Y-yes. I only thought… the scenery here suited the poem well…”
She stammered.
She recalled Grand Prince Suyang’s words—how some men disliked clever girls. Would Anpyeong think the same? Anxiety clouded her face.
“That was an excellent poem. Since you gifted me with such beauty, I must repay you.”
But there was no displeasure in his expression. It wasn’t enough to dispel her nervousness entirely, but at least it was the reaction she had hoped for.
“And yet, I’ve nothing prepared as thanks. What shall I do?”
He spoke lightly, but every word made her heart pound harder, as though it might burst. Her throat felt parched.
“I—I didn’t recite it expecting a reward…”
“Still, it is the duty of a scholar to return a gift of poetry with one of his own.”
His reply was firm, without hesitation. Then he spoke decisively:
“Why don’t I become your teacher?”
…What?
This was not where she thought the conversation would go. From the start, he hadn’t intended to offer her any choice. Laughing at her stunned expression, Anpyeong’s eyes twinkled.
“My learning is not so deep, but as a student of the classics, when I see a child of such talent, I cannot help but be greedy.”
But Hong-a, armed only with fragments of classical knowledge from a past life, had no desire to study Confucian texts seriously. Her priority was survival, not scholarship.
Not that Anpyeong seemed to care. He had already reached his own conclusion.
“While you reside at the detached palace, you may study there. When you return, I will visit the palace myself. I shall speak to my brother directly.”
“W-what? So suddenly?”
Her voice cracked in disbelief. The Lady of the house, seemingly used to such impulsiveness, made no attempt to intervene. Anpyeong only winked playfully.
“As a descendant of King Taejo, we always move straight ahead.”
Ah. He’s a complete madman.
She had thought him a kind, free-spirited uncle. In truth, he was far more willful and unpredictable—utterly unlike Grand Prince Suyang, in both good and bad ways.
The very next morning, before dawn had fully broken, Grand Prince Anpyeong entered the palace. He paid his respects to the King and Queen, but without so much as a sip of water, he rushed straight to the Crown Prince’s quarters.
His elder brother greeted him, bewildered at such an early visit. But the Crown Prince’s expression soon froze, turning icy.
“Brother—give me Hong-a!”
