OGHOU C25

Chapter 25

The head of the Namgung Clan had three sons: the eldest and heir, Namgung Geon; the second, Namgung Hwan; and the youngest and only son by a concubine, Namgung Dogyung.

Among the three brothers, the youngest drew the eye. Smallest and seemingly most delicate, he was a pretty child whose notably fair skin and rosy cheeks put one in mind of a peach.

“So that one’s the supporting love interest in the original, huh.”

By age, he was likely a year or two older than Jeha, yet perhaps because he grew slowly, their builds seemed similar. Still, as a young lord of a great clan, he exuded a hint of childlike precocity.

Watching the three sweep into the inn, silks gleaming as they went, Cheongyeon thought,

“Why now, of all times… when the main uke is here at the inn…”

In the original, Somyeong and Dogyung were not meant to meet for some three years. The eldest young lord, Namgung Geon, would fall ill for unknown reasons; Somyeong, passing near Anhui by chance, would treat him, starting their connection.

Dogyung would fall in love with Somyeong at first sight upon seeing him at the clan, then develop into the supporting love interest who followed him around, plotting and flirting in every way.

Well, “foreign matter” might be a better label than “supporting love interest.” Such ploys would never work on Somyeong’s nature, and he was merely used to provoke Jeha’s jealousy, then discarded.

At any rate, with Haewoo injured after being drawn into the fight and Somyeong and Jeha summoned in haste, it was possible their meeting would be moved up from the original timeline. Now it was hard to predict how the plot would skew.

“To hell with it…”

He had learned bitterly that knowing the original didn’t mean everything would go as desired, so this time he would truly do nothing.

Scratching his nape, Cheongyeon followed them into the inn.

The first and second young lords went upstairs to rest, but the youngest stayed on the first floor and took a seat. Even in the gentle, courteous way he ordered tea, there was an air of refinement.

“Please have it ready so that when my elder brothers come down, they may drink at once.”

“Yes, young master.”

With so many attendants, he hardly needed to order in person. Perhaps it showed the depth of his care for his brothers; in any case, Dogyung seemed used to such tasks.

Cheongyeon prepared a teapot and three cups and brought them over. Each time he set a cup upon the table, he felt Dogyung’s gaze follow the embroidery on his sleeve.

“The embroidery on your cuff is lovely.”

“Eh? Ah…”

At the sudden compliment, Cheongyeon glanced at his own sleeve. It wasn’t fine clothing nor the embroidery anything special—was the future supporting love interest simply in the habit of glib praise?

“No matter how fair my clothes, how could they compare to yours, young master? I’ve never seen silk of such texture.”

At that, Dogyung smiled and toyed with his cuff.

“In our Namgung Clan, we have worn blue through the generations. Seeing you in a water-blue robe gladdened me, drew my gaze. It felt like a fated meeting far from home.”

“Ah… is that so.”

Please don’t try to connect over nothing…

Finding it a bit burdensome that this young gentleman could flutter his eyes at a stranger, Cheongyeon withdrew to one side of the inn. Jeha approached and asked if there was anything to help with.

“It’s fine. Go upstairs and stay with your master.”

“Am I not to stay here?”

The way he drooped his brows and looked like he might cry at a single word was so endearing that Cheongyeon pinched his soft cheek again. He accepted the touch without complaint—docile as could be.

“Go on, quickly. Softie.”

“Sof— I am not a softie…”

“Before the young masters come down.”

Those folks were not yet at a level he could handle.

So Jeha left reluctantly, and before long the Namgung young lords came down and took their seats—without a single word of thanks to Dogyung, who had ordered tea ahead of time and waited.

The second young lord, Hwan, sat upright, took a sip of tea, and spoke.

“I’m pleased, elder brother—we’ve finally found a proper inn. Of late there are too many places doing bizarre things in the name of ‘fashion.’”

“Indeed. I gave orders to seek one out with particular care.”

That stung.

As the ringleader of the bizarre trend, Cheongyeon edged toward the wall and peeled off a few of the plaques that still lingered there (“Hey, you’re strongest when you eat,” “If you eat with relish, you gain sixty cycles of inner strength”), hiding them behind his back.

Whew, lucky to pull them down before they noticed.

It seemed sensibility-style inns didn’t suit the Namgung young lords.

“Still, it’s rather amusing, isn’t it?”

When the silent Dogyung spoke, both Geon and Hwan turned their gazes on him.

“Amusing?”

“That new fashion. A fresh change in inns that were always the same—young martial men…”

“Dogyung.”

The eldest, Geon, cut him off, calling his name sternly.

“Yes, brother.”

“As one who will guide the clan’s future, you can’t be chasing petty trends.”

“……”

“Tradition exists to be kept. Even if it is a humble inn.”

“…Yes. You are right, brother.”

What a young old fogey. Scolding a younger brother over nothing.

Clicking his tongue, Cheongyeon headed to the kitchen to prepare refreshments for the young gentlemen. Their voices carried clearly into the kitchen.

“Don’t be too hard on the youngest, brother. He’s only thirteen.”

“When I was thirteen, I wasn’t so foolish.”

“You and I trained in martial arts from young and learned a warrior’s bearing. The youngest has no talent for martial arts—he only knows a little reading and a little drawing—so perhaps he is late to mature. Please be understanding.”

“Tch. In a martial clan, what pride is there in idling at literature?”

Truly old fogeys in the making. That little drawing he can do will one day sell for a king’s ransom. Cheongyeon shook his head.

“At any rate, won’t this year’s tournament be most exciting, brother? I’m certain you’ll put on a splendid performance.”

“We’ll see,” Geon replied flatly.

“I’m only participating for the sake of meeting the clan’s expectations. In truth, the winner is all but decided—that’s not very interesting.”

“The winner… ah, you mean Wudang’s Free-Roaming Sword?”

“Yes. Minghui of the Free-Roaming Sword. Among the later generation of the Nine Sects, his renown is high. The winner this year will surely come from Wudang.”

Just then, as Cheongyeon brought out a few confections and set the dish on the table with a thump, his wrist clipped Geon’s teacup, and it fell to the floor.

With a crash, the cup shattered and the conversation halted.

“Ah dear. What now.”

Cheongyeon spoke blandly, gathering the shards.

“My mistake, young master.”

“Think nothing of it,” Geon waved, unconcerned.

“I’ll bring a new cup.”

As he headed back to the kitchen for a cup, he flicked a glance at Dogyung. The corners of the boy’s lips had curved into a smile.

Smiling?

Untroubled by his brothers’ scolding, Dogyung smiled bright and spoke again.

“I think Yeoun of Kunlun has a chance.”

“Yeoun? The Taehogum of Kunlun?”

“Yes. In terms of pure skill…”

“Kunlun’s renown soared in the past, but it has long been dimmed. No matter how excellent he is, he won’t match Wudang’s first disciple.”

“However…”

“Enough. You, youngest, don’t yet have the skill to judge others’ martial arts. Leave it.”

Cheongyeon set the new cup on the table. As he turned to leave, Dogyung’s sudden question stopped him.

“Innkeeper, what do you think?”

“Eh? About what?”

“The winner of this year’s tournament. Who do you expect will win?”

“How would someone like me know…”

Why ask me that? He had no desire to be drawn into this conversation.

He tried to brush it off, but Hwan chimed in as well.

“Running an inn, all sorts of information must flow through these doors. Let’s hear what others are saying.”

“Er…”

He didn’t want to get entangled with them, but if asked, he had to answer.

Staring off into the distance, Cheongyeon replied,

“Yeoun of Kunlun will win.”

“Eh? Why? Are you saying he’s better than Wudang’s Free-Roaming Sword?”

“Just… a hunch.”

Because the tournament usually takes place wherever the previous winner came from, and in the original the mentioned tournament was held in Qinghai, where Kunlun is. There, Jeha would seize victory as the first unaffiliated winner thanks to the protagonist’s buff.

He had much to say but kept his peace. Before they could say more, he hurried away.

That night, with a bottle of wine in hand, Cheongyeon went to Somyeong’s room. Somyeong sat reading in a chair, and on one of the beds, Jeha slept soundly.

Lowering his voice so as not to wake the boy, Cheongyeon asked gently,

“Will you share a drink with me?”

Footnotes

Later generation of the Nine Sects (구파의 후기지수): A common wuxia term referring to prominent young talents of the established “Nine Great Sects,” often highlighted in inter-sect tournaments and rivalries.