OGHOU C23

Chapter 23

“This is the last one. I can’t give you any more.”

Jeha held out the final sunflower seed. A chipmunk with bulging cheeks scurried over, snatched it, and hopped back a step.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if autumn came quickly for you, too?”

Watching the chipmunk diligently peel the shell, Jeha murmured.

“When autumn comes, I’ll be able to see him again. I’ll hold out until then.”

He wanted to run to him right away.

Even when he begged his master to descend the mountain and go to Sichuan, the answer was always “No.” It was his master’s teaching: one must not put one’s own feelings first and cause discomfort to others.

Yet some ties lodge themselves deep in the mind within the briefest moments and send one’s heart leaping. If this is how he feels now, how must that person be feeling?

He imagined that the inn would be keeping him busy, and yet the thought crept in—had he thought of Jeha, even once? The idea made his heart sink. After a long wait, perhaps all that remained was longing.

“Do you have someone—no, some chipmunk—you miss? Do you even know what longing is?”

Whether it understood or not, the chipmunk stretched its neck, tilted its head, then, seeing nothing else in Jeha’s hand, spun around and disappeared into the forest.

“If you don’t, forget it. What would you know.”

Jeha stood and dusted off his hands. He had snuck out the sunflower seeds his master sometimes cracked as a snack, but this wasn’t the kind of thing he would be scolded for. After all, it helped life in the mountains.

He picked up the sword leaned against the tree trunk. It fit a child’s frame perfectly, as if made just for him. It was the first sword his master had gotten him after the incident last time.

The blade slid from the scabbard with a clear, ringing shwing. Reflected in the smooth surface, the light-brown eyes were clearly those of a child. Jeha sighed.

He wanted to remain a child who could cry and be coddled before that person—but not to look like a child as well. When would he sprout up tall and stand at equal eye level? He had even brought his sleep forward by half a si-jin.

Enough. Thinking more will only make the heart messy. Do what can be done now. Someday, when he can form sword aura and then sword gang1), that person will surely be pleased.

Jeha calmly emptied his mind and began unfolding the first form of the basic sword art his master had taught him.

Revere the energy of Heaven and Earth, and become one with nature—so he had been taught. A power that does not oppose but harmonizes with the order of things.

When looking at an opponent, rather than splitting into right and wrong, he was told to look into the person’s heart. Wield a sword not to harm an enemy, but to protect those who are precious.

The person he wished to protect was, of course… a gentle, lovely one. Fragrant like osmanthus in autumn…

“Your mind is full of idle thoughts.”

“Master!”

Jeha hastily withdrew the sword. He had tried to focus, yet his thoughts had strayed again. He felt embarrassed, as if caught doing something wrong.

His master had said he would stop by the courier guild2) to send a letter and then visit a friend—why was he back so soon?

“A clear mind is more important than swordplay.”

“I will correct myself.”

“Enough. Go pack.”

“Pack… sir?”

Without a word, Somyeong turned toward the house. Jeha sheathed his sword and trotted after him.

What could it be? Usually, if they were to descend the mountain, he would give at least three days’ notice.

“Master…”

“We’re going to Sichuan.”

“Truly?”

At the unexpected reply, Jeha’s heart pounded like a drum. He could have flown for joy. He had thought they wouldn’t go for another two or three months—he didn’t know why the schedule had changed, but in any case, he would see the innkeeper again.

As he nearly ran for the house, Somyeong caught him by the collar and stopped him.

“Do not be giddy. We go to repay a debt.”

“A debt? Aren’t we visiting the Tang Clan?”

“……”

Somyeong glanced down at Jeha, then drew a sheet of paper from his robes and handed it over. Neat calligraphy filled the page.

Reading what was clearly someone’s letter, Jeha’s face hardened in an instant.

“What is all this…”

He could tell even from a distance. A huge hole had been punched in the inn’s wall, and under the hot sun, laborers bustled, sweating as they moved materials.

“I told you not to run.”

Jeha suppressed the urge to sprint into the inn.

Would he be alright… Hopefully, he wasn’t hurt.

He knew only the cook had been injured, but seeing how hastily the letter had been written, he worried for the innkeeper’s well-being as well. His health wasn’t good to begin with—what if this had worsened it?

He entered the inn carefully, and a chill of fear crawled up him.

“So empty…”

It was empty in the literal sense. The dining space, where tables and chairs should have been neatly set, was clean—like a place shut down. Not even a trace remained.

“Those damned cultists!”

“Mind your tongue.”

“……”

He had never learned to curse; for the first time, he regretted it. If he knew any, he’d have spewed them for an hour—no, half a day. All he could do was repeat silently, “Scoundrels,” “Villains who’ll meet heavenly punishment.”

“Where is the innkeeper?”

“Let’s go up.”

A man as courteous as his master should have come out to greet them. Perhaps he was too pressed to spare a moment.

Jeha followed Somyeong up the stairs. Each step felt like a thousand li.

And finally, when they reached the second floor, he saw the one he had longed for so much.

Cheongyeon stood silently before a tightly shut door. Seeing a face steeped in deep gloom sent a sharp pang through Jeha’s chest. Joy and worry crossed at once, freezing him where he stood despite the person being right before his eyes.

“Wait quietly here.”

He had waited until now to meet him; waiting a little longer would be no trouble at all, and yet his mouth went dry and his fingertips tingled.

Somyeong left Jeha behind and approached Cheongyeon. Cheongyeon, not even noticing someone near, lifted his head and flinched in surprise.

“Ah, you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“I should have come to greet you… No, I’m sorry for making you come on such short notice…”

Rambling, Cheongyeon stopped and pressed his lower lip tight. He bit so hard the already red lip flushed darker.

“How is he?”

“The… physician came and went, but he’s barely clinging to life…”

“I’ll go in.”

“Ah, his sister is inside—could you persuade her to step out? She hasn’t eaten a single meal and I’m worried, but she won’t listen to a word I say…”

“Do not worry.”

Somyeong answered briefly and opened the door.

Left outside the closed door, pacing, Cheongyeon finally noticed Jeha and came over step by step.

“You’re here?”

Despite the heat, a cool hand brushed Jeha’s fringe aside. The forced, lifted corner of his mouth looked awkward.

“Innkeeper…”

“Sorry, but I need to go downstairs for a moment.”

“Please wait…”

As he tried to pass, Cheongyeon staggered and slumped onto the stairs. He pressed his brow and leaned on the railing, dizzy, and Jeha rushed to his side.

“Innkeeper.”

Jeha sat lightly on the stair and studied Cheongyeon’s face. Deep shadows ringed his eyes like one who hadn’t slept for days, and his complexion was pale.

Had he taken his medicine on time? Eaten? Being a man of great feeling, he must have been deeply shaken by the cook’s injury. How to comfort him…

“Now that my master is here, it will be alright. There is no illness he cannot heal; he revives even those near death…”

“Mm, I know.”

“So you must take care of yourself, too.”

Jeha gently took Cheongyeon’s hand and held it, pressing diligently with his small fingers on the acupoints said to relieve fatigue.

Just then, a laborer came up the stairs and addressed Cheongyeon.

“I noticed a handprint on the kitchen wall, too. Shall we fix that as well?”

“Ah…”

His soft sigh sounded like the saddest sound under heaven—Jeha felt he might cry.

“No. Leave it.”

The laborer nodded and left, and Jeha lifted Cheongyeon’s hand and placed it against his own cheek.

He seemed to like this, Jeha remembered.

As expected, the look in Cheongyeon’s eyes warmed a little, and Jeha felt slightly relieved. He could offer his cheek as much as needed—if only the innkeeper would regain his strength soon.

“I should have told you to carry a knife.”

“…Pardon?”

Cheongyeon stroked Jeha’s cheek and muttered as if to himself.

“I should have asked you to come to the market with me.”

“Innkeeper?”

“I should have asked you not to leave.”

“……”

“No… What am I saying to you…”

Had something else happened besides the cook’s injury? He couldn’t understand, but he wanted, somehow, to console him. Jeha racked his brain and recited words he’d heard somewhere.

“When there is a meeting, there is a parting, and… when there is a departure, there is a return, they say. Ah! There’s a chipmunk I feed every time. It always eats and runs, which is a little sad, but when the time comes it always returns, so… Innkeeper?”

Cheongyeon suddenly let out a faint laugh, and Jeha’s eyes went round.

Was what I said funny?

“Chipmunk…”

Cheongyeon stopped smiling and let out a long sigh. The slight curl of his lips looked sad.

“That chipmunk really did just eat and go.”

Did the innkeeper also care for a chipmunk? Jeha tilted his head.