Chapter 19
The Flavor of Trade
Lee-un, Byeon Ha-yeon, and Hwang Hui were swamped, surrounded by eager women as they sold vegetables at a dizzying pace. Miyu watched with a satisfied smile before slipping up to each man in turn and whispering instructions.
“Remember to say these vegetables were grown with the clear upper-Han River water.”
“Is that all we need to say?” Lee-un asked seriously.
“Add that they’re from Dumulmeori Village, where the water’s pure, so the produce is plumper and fresher than anywhere else. Don’t forget—upper-Han River water!”
The men dutifully parroted her words.
That was enough.
People love to embellish a story, and once they’ve chosen something themselves, they convince themselves it’s better.
“Look at these potatoes—twice the size of the ones at other stalls!” a woman exclaimed to Lee-un after buying some.
“Such big, crisp greens. That upper-river water really must be special,” another customer said shyly to Byeon Ha-yeon as she waited.
Before he could answer, a woman behind her raised her voice like a self-appointed promoter. “Of course it’s special. You can’t compare it to the dirty mid- or lower-river water full of kitchen scraps, wash water, and livestock waste.”
“There you go! No wonder these gentlemen are introducing the Gongju Vegetable Stall’s produce,” another woman chimed in.
“Oh my, the vegetables really are big and fresh,” others agreed, nodding in unison.
Miyu’s face lit up.
At last, attention had shifted from their scholarly airs to the vegetables themselves. Soon the rumor that Gongju’s vegetables were superior would spread, and they’d sell well even without the “halo effect.”
“Our artist is even more handsome up close,” a middle-aged woman said to Lee-un when her turn came. “You don’t look of this world. Which vegetables do you like best?”
“In spring, nothing beats shepherd’s purse and wild chives,” he replied kindly.
“Then I must feed those to my husband, so he can at least follow in your footsteps.”
“Ha! Even with that, he’d only ever be a shadow,” another woman teased, making the crowd burst into laughter.
Lee-un blushed in embarrassment.
Meanwhile, Park Man-dol, clerk of the Songpa Market merchants’ guild, hurried over after hearing the Gongju stall was in an uproar—and froze in astonishment.
“What on earth? All this at my mother’s stall? Impossible!”
He scurried to the Gongju grandmother.
“Mother, what’s happening here?”
“What do you think? Customers, wall to wall! Miyu’s something else—she’s got those fine gentlemen dancing in her palm,” the old woman said, nodding in delight.
“I’m blessed in my later years. Where did this lucky charm come from?”
“I told you I’d make you rich, didn’t I?” Miyu said with a wink as she joined them.
“That’s right. I’ll be wearing silk robes before long,” the grandmother said happily.
Beside the stall, the dog U-yu cared nothing for the commotion, happily gnawing the bones the men had brought.
After closing the Gongju stall, the three men slumped against the wall of the Ko-jubu Tavern, legs stretched out, utterly spent.
They felt as if they’d faced every woman in Joseon in a single afternoon.
“Let’s never make a bet like that again,” Hwang Hui sighed, staring at the ceiling.
“Agreed. Forget bets… I’ll pay for the drinks,” Byeon Ha-yeon muttered, shaking his head.
Silence settled.
Then—pfft. Lee-un’s chuckle cracked the quiet.
Pffft, pfft. He couldn’t stop, laughter spilling out.
“What’s so funny?”
“Quite the shock, wasn’t it?”
Ha-ha-ha-ha! Lee-un doubled over, shoulders shaking.
It had been his first time doing such a thing. At the start he’d been mortified, wanting to crawl into a hole. A nobleman selling vegetables—unthinkable!
But a man of honor couldn’t break his word. And with Byeon’s fiery resolve and Hwang Hui following suit, he wouldn’t be the only one to lose face.
Somehow, he’d grown earnest about the work—not for money or competition.
He simply liked mingling with common folk. He painted because he wanted to see and feel the lives of ordinary people. Selling goods was another way of sharing hearts.
He felt the women’s desire to buy good vegetables cheaply to feed their families.
Sharing fine produce was like sharing kindness. That, he thought, was the true charm of trade.
Yet he often doubted himself while painting.
Does my art have soul?
He always observed from a step away, unsure how to truly mingle with the people. Without feeling and experience, was his art genuine or merely skillful?
Seeing is nothing like living it.
Pushed into this by Miyu, Lee-un now felt deeply content. He’d mixed with the people, heard their voices, shared their emotions.
Soon Byeon Ha-yeon and Hwang Hui also began to chuckle.
“We did sell a lot, didn’t we?” Hwang Hui said.
“Hmph, we nearly emptied the stall,” Byeon replied.
“At this rate we’ll get a taste for business.”
“Hwang Hui, maybe you’ll quit the constable’s office and hawk goods in the market?”
“And you, why travel to Japan? Just stay and trade in Songpa,” Byeon teased.
“Please, I’m an interpreter by profession, not a peddler.”
“Says the man whose family made a fortune trading with Japan,” Byeon shot back.
“Still, this was my first real bit of commerce. Normally we just bring permitted goods and let Dongnae merchants handle the deals.”
Clack—the tavern door flew open.
Miyu stood there beaming.
“Well now, welcome, mistress,” Byeon said with an exaggerated bow.
“Heehee, you all worked hard. Thanks to you, I had a wonderful day,” Miyu answered, stepping in.
“I ordered plenty of side dishes, so eat up. Tonight, the Gongju stall is treating everyone.”
She sat as the hostess brought an overflowing spread—steamed chicken, scallion pancakes, meat jeon, assorted greens.
“You really worked hard. Grandma sends her thanks,” Miyu said, pulling a pouch from her sleeve and placing two pun coins before each man.
In today’s money, barely ten thousand won.
The men stared at the coins in disbelief.
For a military officer, a wealthy interpreter, and a city constable, it was a pittance.
“What, you don’t like it? I’ll take it back then,” Miyu teased, reaching for the coins.
They quickly snatched them up and tucked them into their sleeves.
“Precious money,” Lee-un said.
“After all that labor, it’s well earned,” Hwang Hui added.
“To me, it’s worth twenty thousand nyang,” Byeon declared.
“Now,” Miyu said brightly, “let’s begin the So-maek-dang meeting!”
As the drinks flowed, the mood of these scholars of the Confucian classics grew merrier. Just as they were pleasantly tipsy, the tavern mistress brought out tofu.
“Made by the monks of Janggyeongsa on Namhansan Fortress. A special treat for regulars.”
“Wonderful, thank you. So, what shall our next wager be?” Byeon asked, setting the tofu down.
“Didn’t we swear off bets?” Lee-un chuckled. “Though, a So-maek-dang without a wager hardly feels right.”
Hwang Hui hesitated, then spoke carefully.
“Well, there is one case I couldn’t solve at the constable’s office…”
All eyes turned to him.
“A crime?” Miyu’s eyes widened.
“It happened in Dapsimni Village,” he said. Dapsimni lay exactly ten ri outside the city, still within Hansŏng’s jurisdiction.
“Oho, sounds intriguing. Tell us,” Byeon urged, raising his cup.
Hwang Hui explained, step by step, the recent “ox-tongue” case he’d handled there.
By the end, everyone’s faces were grim.
“So cruel. Why do that to a cow?” Miyu shuddered, picturing U-yu’s moist red tongue.
“Someone crept into a stable and cut out a cow’s tongue? Vicious,” Byeon said with a frown.
Lee-un drained his cup before asking, “Did you carry out samjeollin questioning?”
That was the first procedure: interrogating the households to the right, left, and behind the crime scene.
“Of course. But no one saw a thing, no clues at all.”
“Are you sure it was someone from the village?” Byeon asked cautiously.
“No strangers were noted at that time. And why would an outsider come just to cut a living cow’s tongue?”
“It must have been a neighbor with a grudge,” Miyu deduced.
“Exactly. Yet a month has passed and we still can’t find the culprit. Honestly, I’d rather deal with a murder. With a body you can at least get evidence. A cow can’t tell us anything…” Hwang Hui let out a heavy sigh.
“This case…” Miyu’s lashes trembled as she met each man’s eyes with a sly smile.
The three men flinched and looked away.
“If I solve it,” she said sweetly, “you’ll grant me a wish—won’t you?”
