Chapter 81
When Woonyeong closed the door of Jangjujeon Hall and stepped outside, the blazing summer sunlight poured down. The glare was so strong she shielded her eyes with both hands and looked up at the sky.
Summer days shone so brightly, yet her heart felt unbearably heavy.
As she took a step forward, the voice of her grandfather, Seol Wonpyeong, followed her.
— It was a day just as hot as this. That was when your mother first came to the Seol family estate. And then, on a cold winter night, she left. She stayed only half a year. That fleeting bond felt so cruel to me.
Under sunlight this bright, her mother must have been truly beautiful.
— When your mother was heavily pregnant, a friend from the family she had severed ties with came to visit. That friend became your wet nurse.
How hard must it have been for the wet nurse to travel all that way. Sichuan to here—such a far distance. Did she come alone? How foolish, how devoted.
— Young one, you were a baby who rarely cried. In truth you were so weak you didn’t even have the strength to cry. Your father held you and wept every day. He neither ate nor slept but stayed at your side.
She could read what her grandfather wasn’t saying outright. A baby too weak to cry—the physicians must have said she wouldn’t survive.
— My child, I had to keep your father alive. That’s why I kept sending him out. Even as he clung to me, refusing to leave, I put him on carriages and sent him on long merchant trips and armed escorts.
A father who resembled his grandfather… On that last day at the Seol estate, he must have chosen to save only his daughter.
Like father, like son. How alike they were.
She let out a bitter laugh.
— In your father’s place, I held you as you slept. Even as you were about to leave this world, I held you in my arms so you would go from my embrace.
It was a story she had never heard. She had always thought her grandfather a frightening man. How could she even begin to fathom the heart of someone who held a dying granddaughter in his arms.
— And then, when your father came back once every few months, you would burst into tears, perhaps because he seemed unfamiliar. You, who hardly ever cried, cried whenever you saw him.
The truth she learned after so many years was bittersweet.
— So neither your father nor I could bring ourselves to hold you anymore.
If they chose that path to keep a child who mustn’t cry from crying, wasn’t that unbearably sad?
Everyone had simply been cautious, clumsy with each other. Who could be blamed for that?
So at least today, she didn’t want to blame herself. They had only gone a little astray.
There was still plenty of time to set things right.
“Wet nurse!”
Woonyeong called out loudly as she crossed the Moon-Arch Gate of Yeonhong Garden.
“Young lady, you’re here? You stayed long in Jangjujeon Hall.”
Her wet nurse, bright-faced, ran out to greet her. Woonyeong ran straight into her arms.
“Oh dear, my young lady. It’s so hot out, why did you run here?”
The wet nurse bent her knees and gathered Woonyeong into her arms.
“No, no. It wasn’t hot at all. I’m not even sweaty.”
Woonyeong rubbed her face against the woman’s shoulder like a child.
“Our young lady came back from Jangjujeon looking like a little girl again.”
“Really? Do I look like a child?”
“Haha, no, no. It’s only because this wet nurse is happy to see you.”
The wet nurse stroked her hair and held her tighter. In that endlessly warm embrace, Woonyeong silently shed a few tears.
“Today you get cold tea as a special treat.”
“Then yes, just for today.”
Woonyeong sipped a mouthful of cold jasmine tea. The fragrant blossom aroma slid down her throat and spread through her whole body.
“It’s cool.”
“Don’t drink more, or you’ll get a stomachache. Just this much.”
“Yes, yes, wet nurse.”
The wet nurse loved tea brewed from jasmine grown in Sichuan. She also dried fragrant osmanthus—her mother’s favorite—and placed it in Woonyeong’s room and scent pouches.
She had always assumed it was just something her wet nurse liked. But perhaps the woman, too, missed someone from home.
Grandfather said so—missing your kin is only natural.
Woonyeong decided to be a little brave.
“Wet nurse. I… I’m thinking of sending a letter to Chengdu in Sichuan.”
Clatter. The cup in the wet nurse’s hand rolled across the floor.
“Ah, young lady!”
The wet nurse stammered in shock, calling her name. But Woonyeong had decided not to cover things up anymore.
“Just because ties were cut doesn’t mean family isn’t family. I heard my maternal grandfather and grandmother are still alive.”
“How… how do you know?”
Her voice trembled pitifully, but Woonyeong answered calmly.
“Grandfather told me.”
“The master told you? All of a sudden—why?”
“Because I asked.”
“You… asked him?”
“Yes. I’ve had my suspicions for a long time.”
“H-how?”
The wet nurse’s face turned pale. But spilled water can’t be scooped back. All you can do is wipe it clean.
“It’s obvious. Madam Sa. I heard many people from the Tang clan of Sichuan use surnames formed from characters of Tang—‘Yan’ (嚴), ‘Sa’ (史), and ‘Gu’ (丘).”
After meeting Sa Se-hwang, her doubts about her mother’s origins had become certainty. She had simply postponed confirming it until now.
She didn’t know how the craftsman of the Tang clan had become a target of the Celestial Palace. But for now, it was crucial to protect him and forge ties with the Tang family.
“Th-that…”
“And the back garden—so many poisonous plants. It’s strange, isn’t it? You must have hoped I wouldn’t notice…”
Woonyeong shrugged and continued.
“I almost kept pretending not to know. But now I just want to say it. Who knows how long my grandparents will live. Shouldn’t they know they have a granddaughter before it’s too late?”
Her wet nurse, too, should meet the people she missed.
And the Tang clan of Sichuan was now among the family Woonyeong had to protect.
That accursed Vajra relic was also there. One day she would have to retrieve it.
Back then she hadn’t known how the Celestial Palace moved, but now she did.
Where the eight Vajra relics lay—she had to recover them and warn the clan to guard themselves well.
Sichuan was far; she couldn’t go right away. But in a few years, once she entered the Martial Arts Academy, she might be able to visit then.
So starting with a letter wasn’t a bad idea.
Or perhaps it wasn’t just a rational decision. Maybe she simply wanted, this time, to save her mother’s family whom she hadn’t been able to save before.
The Seol estate wasn’t her only family.
Honor shattered like jade could go to the dogs. Living family mattered more than any “noble” death.
She would also educate them so no one would ever again choose that wretched “breaking the jade seal” path.
“I’m sorry, young lady. I’m truly sorry. Sorry I couldn’t tell you until now.”
Tears began streaming from the wet nurse’s eyes.
She hadn’t meant to make her cry. But if she had so many pent-up feelings, maybe crying once like this wasn’t so bad.
“No, wet nurse. You have nothing to be sorry for. To me you’ve been no different from a mother. You still are, and you always will be.”
Woonyeong wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I know you were trying to protect me. Because I was sick. And you were afraid I’d be hurt by my mother’s story, so you couldn’t speak. I know that.”
Her heart ached as she wiped and wiped but the tears wouldn’t stop. Words alone couldn’t dry them.
“I heard you say my mother was like family to you. You must have been hurt deeply. And you stayed beside a sick child…”
Woonyeong knew well how hard her wet nurse’s life had been. She also understood too well her final choice, and it made her heart ache.
She didn’t want to see the woman wither away beside another ailing person again.
“No, no, young lady. I… wasn’t unhappy. Being your wet nurse… made me happy.”
“If that’s how you felt, thank you. But I’m healthy now. So… you don’t have to treat me like a piece of fragile porcelain anymore. I’m strong now.”
She had seen the flicker of anxiety in the wet nurse’s eyes as she watched her grow stronger by the day.
That must be why she’d thrown herself into other tasks.
Now it was time to erase that anxiety.
“Let’s write the letter, wet nurse. Is there someone you want to send one to?”
“…Yes, there is. My older brother.”
She, too, had kin. In the past Woonyeong hadn’t even been able to send him word of the wet nurse’s death.
The spilled water would be wiped clean; new water would be poured in.
Woonyeong forced a smile and spoke.
“Alright, let’s write our letters.”
Today Woonyeong would write a letter—perhaps a bit long, perhaps a bit impudent.
