Chapter 32
“Eonni.”
Haewon stood outside Five Willows, her back rigid as she searched the crowd. She could have sworn she’d heard a familiar voice, but how could she have amid the uproar, spectators jeering at the officers as they hauled beloved books out by the cartload?
Dashing aside a bead of sweat, she continued to hurry, examining every face under a headdress. Her fear for her missing sister and her growing disquiet over Lord Yu’s welfare solidified in her chest, a block of ice that made it difficult to breathe.
“Eonni!”
That familiar voice again, followed by a flash of bright green silk, an embroidered magpie marking the veil.
A round, ruddy face appeared before Haewon, and within an instant, Yeonhee was in her arms. Yeonhee, the girl who swung on the geune-ttwigi swing, arching her frame skyward, eyes gleaming with terrified delight.
Yeonhee, who had taken to leaping off, to see how far she could fly.
Even a shaman, at her birth, had warned Mother to hold on to Yeonhee tight, that hers was a spirit that yearned to ride the seas and capture the stars.
So Haewon clung to her little sister, afraid that life would push them apart again.
“My foolish sister,” Haewon whispered, her voice shaking as relief washed through her. Then she held Yeonhee at arm’s length and examined the girl. “You are safe; that is all that matters. Let’s return home. Mother and Father are sick with worry.”
Yeonhee’s lower lip trembled. “But I cannot. Not yet.”
“Not yet?” She gave her sister’s arms a gentle squeeze. “I told you, our parents are sick with worry, and you still intend to leave again?”
“But I failed,” Yeonhee cried. “I failed to retrieve your book of letters!”
Haewon blinked, unable to follow. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The Ministry of Justice is too heavily guarded. I tried but couldn’t sneak in. The book of letters is stored inside an office there—I’m certain of it.”
Shaking her head, Haewon didn’t know whether to scold her sister’s recklessness or embrace her for her courage. She instead readjusted Yeonhee’s veil just so, tucking the jangot lower over her face. “Well, I am glad you are returned.”
“Are you?” Yeonhee’s voice shook with emotion. “I thought you must despise me.”
“You know I will always love you. You may at times be silly, indiscreet, and a touch too impetuous,” Haewon listed matter-of-factly, retying the veil ribbons under Yeonhee’s chin.
“But you are also as free-spirited as the wildflowers that flourish in the field, uncaring of where the bounds of polite society begin or end.” Sadness tugged at her as she managed to add, her voice straining, “I rather adore that about you. You are Shin Yeonhee, and I will always want to be your sister, even in the next lifetime. There, all done.”
Yeonhee’s eyes gleamed with tears, and for the barest moment, Haewon felt as though she had somehow reached her unreachable sister. But as soon as that look of vulnerability opened across Yeonhee’s face, it was gone.
“So the officers are really taking all those books?” Yeonhee jerked her gaze away, at the scene beyond them. “Mistress Wol will be devastated. Has she returned yet?”
“Not yet.”
“While I was at the Ministry of Justice, I overheard things. This whole raid was instigated by an official who was rebuked by the king for owning forty thousand novels. Forty thousand! How does one own so many novels? Anyway, the official who owned that great collection was demoted in rank, and was so ashamed, he is attempting to regain the king’s favor by denouncing novels and inciting this raid. ”
Haewon finally returned her attention to Five Willows.
A fresh wave of pain surged through her as she stared at the dark entrance of the bookshop.
If writing does not help edify the subject—the king’s declaration opened wide before her like a grave—it is worse than if the writing did not exist at all.
When the officers finally retreated and the crowd dispersed, Haewon lingered there with her sister.
She knew it would be wise to return home.
She ought to change with the times, to denounce novels in public while reading voraciously in private.
But she couldn’t abandon her second home.
As though Yeonhee shared her heart, there was no hesitation as she followed Haewon into Five Willows.
Merchant Hyoyang sat slumped, his wilted figure casting a sad shadow against the bright orange glow of the setting sun. “Just let me be,” he groaned, waving them away.
“Ajusshi, we’ll help…” Haewon paused, chilled by this new echoing of her voice. It hadn’t echoed before when the shelves were full, overflowing with stories. “We’ll help you clean.”
The shop had become a derelict, abandoned shack, and as they wandered deeper into it, collecting the loose pages laid to waste, Haewon found herself glancing around, half hoping to see Lord Yu.
But he must have left, and surely, he was in no trouble himself.
He was too great and privileged a gentleman to become entangled in such affairs.
“Are Mother and Father truly so upset with me?” Yeonhee asked hesitantly.
“They are more worried than upset. You know how it is: Gossip is malicious. Scandalmongers will take you down and the rest of us with you.”
“They’re all hypocrites, you know,” Yeonhee said hotly.
“They judge with gleeful harshness when others stumble, but when scandal lands at their door, they pray to the heavens that they be treated with kindness and fairness. Why are people so mean?” Her lips pursed as she picked up a torn book, pages hanging from the spine. “So cruel.”
Haewon shook her head. “We are all hypocrites. We are all flawed. The sooner we face our own failures, the better. The cruelest kind of people are those who cover it up and become a judge of others. Or that is what I think, at least,” she added, no longer so sure of her own thoughts as she once had been.
“But I should hope novel readers are slightly kinder, wiser, and more empathetic. We have lived ten thousand lives through books, have endured ten thousand heartaches and joys. As I always say, I think those who do not read novels are the most miserable sort of human beings.”
“Maid Boram is right, eonni,” Yeonhee admitted. “You are full of dangerous thoughts.”
A dry laugh escaped Haewon. “And you, my dear sister, overflow with them.”
“Whyever are we like this?”
“I suspect there is some defect in our family. A flaw that runs deep in our blood.”
“It is most certainly from Mother’s side.”
“Likely. Does she not always tell us the tale of our great-great-grandfather who once was a slave who rose to become a general?”
Yeonhee smiled like in old times, and Haewon kept close to her sister for a few moments longer. It was only when she was convinced Yeonhee wouldn’t disappear that she let her gaze wander around. The emptiness weighed on her heart.
Haewon used to dream that one day, the streets of Hanyang might overflow with bookshops like Liulichang Street in Qing China.
She had read the accounts by Hong Tae-yong, who had described his awe when strolling through the market district— so many books that his eyes grew weary and his neck stiff before he even finished browsing the shelves.
She had often daydreamed of their own streets seeing such a day, when books were plentiful, when the printing press was no longer reserved solely for the government.
When her neck, too, would become stiff from browsing the many shelves.
What would it feel like? To be able to read until the soul felt full?
To read without the shame and the fear of being caught?
That bright dream, always lingering in the back of her mind, now felt like the spring blossoms that faded all too soon, trampled into the mud after one rainfall.
“Come,” Haewon whispered, “let’s find a broom—”
Footsteps creaked behind her.
Haewon stilled, her heart quickening as she slowly turned, certain it was Lord Yu.
Her gaze instead landed on Wol. Her jade-rimmed spectacles gleamed in the windowlight, obscuring her eyes, which Haewon was sure were staring out with her usual fierceness.
Relief washed through her. “You’ve returned! ”
Wol’s lips tightened as she took in the sight.
Destroyed pages, the shelves bare. Gone were the books she had lovingly curated, many of which she personally had repaired.
Then her nose turned red and quivered. Tears burst forth, shuddering, violent sobs.
Haewon and Yeonhee rushed over to comfort their friend.
It was the kind of wailing one cried over a dead beloved. The raw, guttural sound of grief. An invading force had swept through her home, leaving the land burned and barren.