Kim ManChoong - The Cloud Dream of the Nine

The two looked at each other with a fixed and startled expression, but said not a word. So-yoo had sent his boy ahead to order his affairs at the inn, and now he suddenly returned to announce that it had been so done. The maiden looked straight at So-yoo for a moment, and then suddenly recollected herself, closed the blind and disappeared from view. A suggestion of sweet fragrance was borne to him on the breeze.

So-yoo regretted at first that the boy had disturbed him by his announcement. And now that the blind had closed it was as though a thousand miles of the Yang-tze had cut him off from all his expectations. So he went on his way, looking back at times to see, but the silken window was made fast and did not again open. He reached the inn with a sense of loss and home-sickness upon him, and with his mind mixed and confused.

The family name of the maiden was Chin, and her given name Cha-bong. She was the daughter of a Government Commissioner, and had lost her mother early in life. No brothers or sisters had she ever had, and now she had attained to the age when girls do up their hair, but she was still unmarried.

The Commissioner had gone up to the capital on official business, and so the daughter was alone when she thus unexpectedly met the eyes of So-yoo. His handsome face and manly bearing attracted her wonderfully. Hearing, too, the verses that he sang she was carried away with admiration for his skill as a scholar, and thus she thought to herself:

“The woman's lot in life is to follow her husband. Her glory or her shame, her experiences for the span of life are wrapped up in her lord and master. For this reason Princess Tak-moon, although a widow, followed General Sa-ma. I am yet an unmarried girl and dislike dreadfully to become my own go-between and propose marriage, but it is said that in ancient times courtiers chose their own king, so I shall make inquiry concerning this gentleman and find his name and place of residence. I must do so at once and not wait till my father's return, for who knows whither he may have gone in the meantime, or where I may search for him in the four quarters of the earth.”

She unclasped a roll of satin paper, wrote a verse or two and gave it to her nurse, saying: “Take this letter to the city guest-hall and give it to the gentleman who rode past here on the little donkey and sang the Willow Song as he went by. Let him know that my purpose is to find the one that is destined for me, and on whom I may depend. Know forsooth that this is a very important matter and one that forbids your acting in a light or frivolous way. The gentleman is handsome as the gods; his eyebrows are like the loftiest touches of a picture, and his form among common men is like the phoenix among feathered fowls. See him now for yourself and give him this letter.”

The nurse replied “I shall be careful to do just as you have commanded, but what shall I say if your father should inquire later?”

“I shall see to that myself,” said Chin See, “so do not be anxious.”

The nurse then left, but returned again in a little to ask: “What shall I do if the gentleman is already married or engaged?”

On hearing this the maiden thought for a moment and then replied: “If that unfortunately be so I shall not object to become his secondary wife. He is young, but whether he is married or not, who can tell?”

The nurse then went to the guest-hall and asked for the gentleman who had sung the Willow Song. Just at that moment So-yoo stepped out of the entrance into the court, and there he met the old dame who came bearing the message. He responded at once and said: “Your humble servant, madam, is responsible for the Willow Song. Why do you ask me?”

When the nurse saw his handsome face she no longer doubted his being the one in question, and softly said: “We cannot speak here.”

So-yoo, wondering, led her into the guest-house, and when they were seated quietly he asked why she had come.

“Will your Excellency,” said she in answer, “please tell me where you sang the Willow Song?”

So-yoo replied: “I am from a far distant part of the country and have come for the first time into the neighbourhood of the capital. The beauty of it delights my soul. To-day at noon as I was passing along the main highway I saw to the north of the road a little pavilion with a grove of green willows, exquisitely beautiful. I could not restrain my joy, and so wrote a verse or two which I sang, but why does your excellent ladyship ask concerning that?”

The nurse replied: “Did your Excellency meet anyone at that time, or come face to face with any stranger?”

So-yoo made answer: “Your servant came face to face with a beautiful fairy, who looked down upon him from the pavilion by the way. Her lovely features I see still and the fragrance of her presence has filled the world.”

The nurse went on: “I shall speak directly to the point. The house you mention is the home of my master, Commissioner Chin, and the lady you refer to is his daughter. From childhood she has been pure of heart and gifted in mind and soul, with a wonderful talent for knowing people. She saw your Excellency but once and for a moment, yet her desire is to entrust herself to you for ever; but the Commissioner is away from home in the capital and he must needs return before any decision can be arrived at. Most important is the matter, however, and in the meantime your Excellency may be far enough away like the floating seaweed on the drift, or the autumn leaves in the wind that blows. Fearing she might never again find you, she has sent me to say that the destiny of life is the all important subject, while the diffidence of the moment and the fear to speak of it are but a passing unpleasantness. Thus has she, contrary to good form and her bringing up, written this letter and ordered me, her old servant, to ask your excellent name and place of residence.”

When So-yoo heard this he was greatly interested, as his countenance showed. He thanked her, and said: “My name is Yang So-yoo, and my home is in the land of Cho. I am young and not yet married. Only my aged mother is alive, and while the marriage question is one that will need inquiry on the part of both our clans, still consent to the contract may be given even here and now, and so for my part I consent at once, and swear it by the long green hills of Wha-san and the endless reaches of the Wee-soo River.”

The nurse, delighted at her success, took a letter from her sleeve, gave it to So-yoo, who tore it open and found a poem which read:

"Willows waving by the way,

Bade my lord his course to stay,

He, alas, has failed to ken,

Draws his whip and rides again.”

When So-yoo had read the verse and noted its brightness and freshness, he praised it, saying: “No ancient sage ever wrote more sweetly.” Then he unrolled a sheet of watered paper and wrote his reply thus:

"Willow catkins soft and dear,

Bid thy soul to never fear,

Ever may they bind us true,

You to me, and me to you.”

The nurse received it, placed it in her bosom, and went out through the main gateway of the guest-hall, but So-yoo called her again, saying: “The young lady is a native of Chin, while I belong to Cho. Once we separate, a thousand miles come between us. With hills and streams and the windings of the way, it will be difficult indeed to get messages back and forth. We have no go-between to make proof of our contract, so I would like to go by moonlight and see my lady's beautiful face. What think you? In her letter there is some such suggestion, is there not? Please ask her.”

The nurse consented, and on her return gave the message to the maiden. “Master Yang has sworn by the Lotus Hills and the long stretches of the river that he will be your companion. He praised your composition most highly, and wrote a reply which I have brought you.” She then handed it to the lady.

The maiden received the letter, read it, and her face lighted up with joy.

Again the nurse went on to say: “Master Yang has asked if it would be agreeable to you to have him come quietly by moonlight and write another message which you could enjoy together.”

Her answer was: “It is not good form for a young man and a young woman to meet before marriage. I am promised to him, it is true, and that makes a difference. If we meet at night, however, it might cause unseemly rumour, and also my father would reprimand me for it. Let us wait till noon to-morrow and meet in the great hall and there seal our happy contract. Go and tell him, will you?”

The nurse went once again to the inn and told the young master what had been said.

He expressed his regret and made reply: “The lady's pure heart and right ordered words put me to shame.” Several times he urged upon the nurse that there should be no failure in their plans, and so she left.

While Master Yang slept in the guest-house his thoughts were agitated and on the wing, so that he did not rest well. He got up and waited for the crowing of the cock, impatient at the length of the long spring night. Suddenly the morning star began to dawn and the awakening drums to beat. He called his boy and ordered him to feed the donkey. At this point an unexpected inrush of mounted troops greeted the city with all the clamour that goes with an army rabble. Like a great river they went thundering by, hurrying in from the west. In fear he hastily gathered up his effects and looked out into the street, where the whole place seemed filled with armed men and fleeing people. The confusion was indescribable, and the earth rang with the thunders of it, while the wailing of the citizens shook the very sky.

He asked someone standing by what it meant, and was told that it was the rebel Koo Sa-ryong [10]

who had risen against the Government and proclaimed himself Emperor. His Majesty was away on a visit of inspection in Yang-joo, and so the whole capital was in a state of hopeless confusion, with the rebels everywhere robbing the homes of the people. There was word, too, that they had locked the gates of the city so that no one could escape, and were enlisting by force rich and poor, every man who could bear arms.

Master Yang, in a state of fear and bewilderment, got hold of his boy and hastened away with the donkey toward the south mountain, that stood just in front, hoping to hide himself among the rocks or in some cave. He looked up and saw on the highest peak a little thatched house that seemed to hang in the shadows of the clouds, with the voices of cranes echoing about it. Thinking it the home of some dweller in the city, he went to it, picking his way, when suddenly he was confronted by a Taoist genius who, seated on his mat, saw the young man coming toward him. He got up, greeted him, and asked: “Are you making your escape from the confusion of the city, and are you indeed the son of the hermit Yang who lived in Hoiram county?”

So-yoo gave a sudden start of surprise, bowed low, broke out into expressions of wonder, and said in reply: “I am indeed the son of the hermit Yang. Since the departure of my father I have lived with my old mother. I am dull and slow of intellect and have learned next to nothing, and yet presumptuously thinking that I might have some chance to pass the examination, I came as far as Wha-eum when this rebellion blocked my way. In trying to make my escape I entered these mountain recesses and have been so fortunate as to meet your Excellency. God has helped me to such a meeting I know. I have not heard of my father for so long, and as time has gone by my soul waits more impatiently than ever for news from him. As I hear your words I am sure you have definite knowledge of him. I pray you, lord of the fairies, do not withhold anything, but give a son the greatest comfort that can come to him. In what height does my father dwell, please, and how is he in health?”