Chapter 1
The countryside had exploded in a storm of colors—shimmering willow tresses, golden shoots of forsythia and bursts of flowering sansuyu trees, and purple-pink azaleas smothering the hillsides and valleys.
Warm gusts breezed through the village, showering petals onto thatched rooftops and earthenware pots, drifting down withered streams and speckling the parched earth.
Drawing her veil over her head, Shin Haewon journeyed through the floral downpour, pausing now and then to turn her eyes skyward.
A bird glided along the mountain ridges, and she found herself wondering how she must appear from such a height: a young woman walking alone, her jangot billowing like the wings of a silken green butterfly.
No one would see a criminal.
She clutched her travel sack tight beneath her cloak, enjoying the weight of books. What she had in her possession was breaking every rule in the ladies’ etiquette manuals she had read growing up—as well as a few laws.
“Agasshi!” a shrill female voice called out. “Wait for us!”
Haewon slowed to a halt, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare. “Hurry,” she answered, “before the line at the fortress gate grows too long!”
“A lady oughtn’t to walk as vigorously as you do, agasshi,” the sixteen-year-old maid huffed as she finally caught up. “Besides, your elder sister cannot keep up. You know how delicate her constitution is!”
“Don’t trouble yourself over me,” Haewon’s older sister said with a sweet smile, though a bead of sweat trembled at her brow.
Her name was Yeonok—Yeon for “beauty” and ok for “jade”—but their family had long ago taken to simply calling her Jade.
“I am in perfectly good health, Boram-ah. The fatigue has lessened of late.”
Haewon linked arms with her sister, adjusting her stride to match Jade’s. “Last time, it felt like an eternity just to get through the gates. And Five Willows was already crowded by the time we arrived.”
“All the books I wanted were already gone.”
Haewon patted Jade’s arm. “We cannot allow such a tragedy to repeat itself.”
“I don’t know why your father permits you to visit Five Willows,” Maid Boram grumbled. “Most ladies wouldn’t dare visit a secret book-lending shop themselves; they’d send their male relations. And did the king not reinstate the edict banning all novels a few months ago?”
Haewon shrugged. “The authorities have long abandoned any real effort to enforce the ban. I doubt there will be much effort this time, either—”
“Haewon agasshi,” Maid Boram squeaked. “The way you speak … it gives me such severe heart palpitations.” Her hand fluttered to her chest, and she bore the aura of a scandalized middle-aged matron. “Novel reading is a dangerous business.”
“Is it? I’m not afraid of a little danger.” Haewon cast a smile at her sister. “It sounds rather thrilling, don’t you think, eonni?”
As Maid Boram continued to lecture, they took a shortcut across a brittle reed field. The unrelenting dryness had returned this spring, and only the most resilient trees and plants had flowered. Even the stream yonder had thinned into a glistening thread.
Soon, Gyonam Village fell behind them. After their brisk walk, the outline of the fortressed capital began to emerge ahead.
The Souimun Gate—one of the main entrances into the city—stood magnificent against the azure sky, and after what felt like ages of waiting, they were finally permitted through.
A cacophony of sounds greeted them as they strolled down the streets of the capital: the squeals of pigs, the squawks of cooped chickens, and the piercing cries of peddlers hawking their wares.
Endless rows of tables and mats presented by sweaty merchants were adorned with goods of all kinds, from wooden spoons and straw sandals to rolls of silk and glittering hairpins.
The capital never failed to invigorate Haewon. Anything could happen here. Destinies could be changed with the slightest brush of coat sleeves, the briefest of glances. And there was one place in particular, one secretive shop, that had become her safe haven.
Hoisting her travel sack higher, Haewon bit back a smile as she arrived before Five Willows. Anyone could enter the store selling secondhand Confucian texts, but only certain trusted patrons were permitted to explore the secrets behind it.
“Draw your veil closer,” Maid Boram whispered.
Haewon did so as she stepped into the shop and made her way over to Merchant Hyoyang. The gray-bearded man was seated behind a table, glowering down at a book.
“Readers these days have no reverence,” the merchant mumbled to her in greeting. His calloused, ink-stained fingers wagged accusatorily at the scribbles in the margin. “Look at the state of this borrowed copy!”
“Ajusshi, is your daughter in?” Haewon asked.
“She just returned from Myeongrye-bang District. Aigoo, aigoo, this is a disgrace!” he went on, clucking his tongue, flipping through the pages while shaking his head.
“This book was in perfect condition just three days ago, and now look—someone has defaced entire pages with their comments and dog-eared the corners!”
Haewon expressed her sympathy, just as she did with every visit, and as usual, found that nothing she said could appease the merchant’s outrage.
Excusing herself, she led her maid and sister past the light crowd of patrons to the door at the far end, hidden behind a row of shelves. She knocked three times.
A wooden panel slid open, revealing an eye through the peephole. “Yes?” came a female voice from behind the door.
Haewon leaned in and whispered the code, verses from the great poet Tao Yuanming’s work: “This gentleman does not know where his people have come from / Also doesn’t know his family’s name / At the side of his house grows five willow trees / This is how he got this name.”
“It’s me,” she added quietly. “I brought Jade and Boram, too.”
At once, the door was opened by her friend Mistress Wol.
She was a plain young woman with high cheekbones, a long slender nose, and a pair of intelligent and sensible eyes framed by jade-rimmed spectacles.
Her hair was always tucked into a chignon, the style of a married woman, though Wol had never married.
“Come in quickly,” Wol urged, a stack of books cradled in her arms. “Before you are seen.”
They stepped into the secret shop lined with wooden bookshelves. Patrons hid in the dusty corners, browsing and reading like hungry mice.
“I’ll be right over there; you go and speak with Wol,” Jade said, her face glowing as she hurried over to the shelf holding romantic literature. Maid Boram trailed behind, nervously playing with her sleeve.
Finally alone with Wol, Haewon walked close alongside her companion. “You must have heard the rumors? I didn’t think much about the edict being reinstated until recently,” she whispered. “There is talk that it will be different this time. More serious, perhaps.”
“Hmm.”
“Are you not worried about the inspectors?”
“I confess, I am more concerned about book thieves finding their way in here. Do you know how many bookshops have closed down because of them?”
“Too many to count, I’m sure. So you are not concerned?”
“Of course I am. But there’s no need to frown, Haewon-ah,” Wol said as they ventured deeper into the maze of shelves.
“We oughtn’t be too worried. Some things will change because of the edict.
Many will give into royal pressure, condemning novels in public while devouring them behind closed doors.
Others will cling to their beliefs.” Wol plucked two books from the pile in her arms and slid them into their rightful places on the shelves.
“What will remain the same is the people’s love for novels. Readers cannot be stopped.”
She moved farther down the aisle, then paused again to shelve a few more books. “Besides, many government officials are in my father’s pocket. We have purchased their protection. But never mind about politics and policies.” Casting a glance back, she asked, “Did you bring them?”
Haewon lifted her travel sack. “I did.”
Wol nodded, lengthening her stride while Haewon took her time, drawing in the familiar sight around her.
Golden light streamed through the high-set windows, illuminating dust motes drifting in the air.
Someone muffled a sob in the far corner, likely moved by a tragic scene they were reading.
There came giggles from the opposite end as pages rustled.
The shelves stood close enough to allow patrons a semblance of privacy, the aisles so narrow that one could not stretch their arms without bumping into books.
And wherever one went in this shop, the comforting mustiness of aged paper warmed the air.
She loved this place.
It was her second home, and whenever she stepped inside the dusty, crowded space, a feeling akin to hunger curled inside her.
Books upon books were stacked on the shelves, ten thousand lifetimes pressed between covers.
With the turn of a page, she was no longer Shin Haewon.
No longer the daughter of a family in financial straits; no longer a helpless sister witnessing an overwhelmed Jade, the government soon to force her to get married quickly, quickly; no longer the keeper of a younger third sister who was prone to recklessness.
A page turned, and all fears and anxieties fell away.
Her mind became sheer mountains and cliffs and the raging sea.
This hunger awoke her even in the early hours of the morning, when the cold predawn light illuminated her room just enough.
She would read with haste, turning the pages quietly, afraid to wake the household, and when the room turned golden, she’d feel full enough, just enough, to begin her day.
“How many copies did you manage to transcribe?”
Haewon glanced back at Wol. “Four.”