TSBIRBV Ch 114

Chapter 114 More Than a Drama (2)

Gu Young‑ik’s gaze at Yegyeol brimmed with pride.

Seeing the certainty etched on his face—that Seonye Workshop would surely meet Yegyeol’s exalted standards—made the man seem unfamiliar to Yegyeol.

“You actually intend to produce goods comparable to Chokgeum?” Yegyeol asked, skeptical.

“We are a dyeing workshop, not a loomsmith. Think about it: if Seonye dyes even Chokgeum, how exquisite would the result be?” Gu Young‑ik, who had seemed timid when memories of the past and their reunion at Osam Guild collided, unexpectedly beat a bold drum.

“Like garments fit for the Queen Mother of the West,” he added.

Yegyeol swallowed a low sound. There was logic to what Gu Young‑ik said.

Jangchil had an uncanny knack for following the scent of money. Without that talent, how would a third-rate ronin of the heterodox school have become a reasonably successful merchant and even establish a trading house?

Yegyeol fell silent.

“So then, Seonye Workshop would qualify to do business with Qinghai Guild?” Gu Young‑ik asked—not as repayment, but as a commercial arrangement.

A smile twitched at the corner of Yegyeol’s mouth. The man looked like a bear who cried easily, yet his shrewdness was keen.

Pushing the empty teacup forward, Yegyeol tossed a question at Gu Young‑ik.

“I thought you’d given up. To petition for a trade—surprising.”

“Oh.” Gu Young‑ik fumbled at the corner of his eye and smiled sheepishly. “When I fall into thought, I get a bit of a pitiful look.”

He joked that it made him useful in negotiations, and seemed to have shaken off the shadow cast by Jangchil.

“If you restore the workshop and bring me proper samples—no, actual swatches—bring them to me.”

“Then…!” Gu Young‑ik’s face brightened.

“I’ll consider it again then.”

“Thank you! Master of the Guild!” he cried. The teahouse patrons’ eyes turned toward them at his loud voice. Yegyeol swallowed a sigh and added in a curt tone:

“Don’t get too excited. I’ll be staying in Hangzhou for a while, but if the samples are delayed I’ll return to Qinghai.”

It was half a threat, but in any case Gu Young‑ik’s petition had been accepted. The man was content and grinned broadly.

“Of course. We’ll show you Seonye Workshop’s real strength.”

As he left, Gu Young‑ik bowed repeatedly. It was almost a talent that his obsequiousness never felt unbecoming.

‘Maybe because his face was all smiles,’ Yegyeol thought.

Walking as if fleeing, Yegyeol followed his escort back toward where the carriage was parked.

Understandably, there is no valet-parking in the martial world; roads shared by carts and pedestrians made having a personal carriage somewhat inconvenient despite its convenience.

Crossing a bustling street, someone suddenly called to Yegyeol.

“Master Mun!”

Turning at the call, Yegyeol’s eyes widened at the unexpected face.

“Lord Dang Segi…?”

It was Dang Segi.

“I didn’t expect to meet Master Mun here. What brings you to the eastern edge of the Central Plains from Qinghai?” Dang Segi asked.

“I’m here on business dealing with the Qinghai Guild,” Yegyeol lied without a lick of saliva on his tongue—thankful that his elder brother’s occupation had taught him which professions traveled widely and thus how to fabricate an excuse.

“And what brings you from Sichuan to Hangzhou, Lord Dang?” Yegyeol asked.

“Well, actually…” Dang Segi’s face flushed shyly. To Yegyeol—who had met Dang Seoak most often in the Sichuan Guild—this fresh blush was unexpectedly charming.

“I heard the lady I admire likes Hangzhou textiles… I came to buy a gift.”

‘Oh… he’s the type who gives TMI,’ Yegyeol mused. If he’d been in elementary school in the modern world, he’d be the sort to write pages of diary entries about unrequited love for his parents and teacher to read.

“By luck, I heard Mr. Hwangbo is in Hangzhou today,” Dang Segi added, visibly delighted that a crush’s whereabouts had coincided with his shopping trip.

It was so different from Dang Seoak that it was almost awkward. As expected from a person Namgung Un would introduce—gentle as can be.

‘Is the Sichuan House—going to be okay?’ Yegyeol wondered.

“If it isn’t too much, Master Mun… would you help me choose a present?” Dang Segi asked.

“How can I pick a gift when I don’t even know who the lady you admire is or what she likes?” Yegyeol replied.

Dang Segi laughed, light and bright. “Just coming with me will be a huge help. I’ve been unlucky since childhood and kept meeting con artists, which worried my father.”

Yegyeol was speechless.

It wasn’t that Dang was unlucky and kept meeting swindlers; he simply looked so guileless that one would be tempted to swindle him for sport.

People who spread their limbs and make themselves comfortable exist in every age—Central Plains or modern.

‘Is the Sichuan House—really going to be fine?’ he thought.

At a drinking party he’d heard Dang Segi was older than Namgung Un, but his chipmunk-like softness made him look young enough to be inexperienced.

“Hmm.” Yegyeol glanced around. With no sign of Haryang returning, it seemed better to linger in the market and stage a serendipitous meeting than to head straight back to the manor. Maybe he could at least attempt something like a date.

“All right.” He nodded without hesitation.

If Dang Segi was the sort Namgung Un introduced, winning his heart would make Qinghai’s activities in Sichuan smoother.

Thus began an oddly matched companionship.

Dang Segi proved not so shy after all; as they walked side by side he rattled off stories about the woman he liked.

“Hwangbo Sojeo is truly brilliant among her peers. If Namgung steps down from the Yongbong Assembly chair, some say Hwangbo Sojeo will be next.”

I swear, half the late-generation strongmen in the martial world knew about Dang Segi’s crush.

Perhaps that Hwangbo Sojeo—?

Yegyeol inwardly mourned Dang Segi’s unrequited love.

If everyone in the martial world knew about the Sichuan House heir’s affection and the object of that affection gave no sign in return, that meant she’d been rejected.

“There are many Hwangbo daughters. Which one do you mean?” Yegyeol asked.

“Oh!” Dang Segi’s face went crimson as he realized he hadn’t named her. “That is—Hwangbo Yulhee of Geumhobong.”

Ah—Hwangbo Yulhee.

“…No way?” Yegyeol’s thoughts briefly leapt to a woman his elder had once been interested in: of Hwangbo stock, famed in the martial world as Chaebong…

“Yes. She’s the only daughter of the Hwangbo family head, Hwangbo Yakrin, and indeed the Hwangbo scion Hwangbo Yulhee herself.”

That was the name.

Perhaps Dang Segi thought Yegyeol’s muttered aside was a reply to him; with chest puffed in pride he spoke as if even prouder, shoulders bobbing.

But Yegyeol was slightly out of it and didn’t respond to Dang Segi’s excitement.

The Central Plains are vast and travel is inconvenient—what are the odds of meeting Chaebong’s daughter in Hangzhou?

‘No, wait.’ It might be a relief. If Chaebong had a child, she must have married another man and had a family.

Yegyeol quietly offered a small blessing for Hwangbo Yakrin and the household he’d formed, then led Dang Segi onward.

“I know a shop; I’ll show you,” Yegyeol said.

“Then I’ll leave it to you, Master Mun,” Dang Segi replied.

The cloth merchant’s owner leaped forward to receive them.

“Oh, this merchant gets news fast—” he began.

“Master Mun! You again!” the shopkeeper exclaimed, recognizing Yegyeol. Between Je Haryang’s impulsive purchases and Yegyeol’s visits, he’d become a VVIP in Hangzhou—hard to believe all this started with breakfast.

Dang Segi, thinking the shopkeeper had recognized him, was about to beam, but the merchant abruptly halted in front of Yegyeol, and Dang Segi’s eyes widened.

“Ah—Master Mun must be the head of a major guild for Hangzhou merchants to know you,” he blurted.

Why whisper when you can just shout? The chipmunk-like fellow was endlessly amusing.

‘At that rate… he’d toss acorns instead of memorizing names when enemies appear,’ Yegyeol thought, brushing aside stray thoughts.

“Show me the cloth like last time,” Yegyeol instructed.

This time they were led upstairs to a space reserved for distinguished customers: the owner would show the fabrics from above and servants would fetch chosen pieces.

Dang Segi painstakingly selected cloth, asking Yegyeol’s opinion for each choice.

“I like this golden one—what do you think?”

“It’s too bright; it would make the wearer’s face look dull.”

“Then perhaps purple?”

“That’s too vivid.”

As Dang Segi theatrically fussed, the shop door opened.

A woman in light armor entered, a sword at her waist and a sprightly bow ornamenting her hair.

Dang Segi, who had been asking Yegyeol for his opinion, inhaled sharply upon seeing her—then his face flushed scarlet.

“Huff.”

Her arrival was clearly significant. Given how much Dang Segi had talked about his crush, the identity of this woman was not hard to guess.

“Could that be—?”

Dang Segi nodded, barely moving his head. He looked like he might faint if he dared to speak to Hwangbo Yulhee.

“Miss Hwangbo is beautiful,” Dang Segi breathed.

For once, Yegyeol felt genuine admiration.

Surrounded by many handsome espers, he was rarely stirred. Even encountering a notable beauty typically only registered as an objective appraisal. But Hwangbo Yulhee was different.

Yes, immensely beautiful, but her features and the atmosphere about her made an impression that landed squarely on him.

“Isn’t she?” Dang Segi chirped.

“I’m going to greet her—will you come? If I say you’re an acquaintance introduced by Namgung, she’ll surely welcome you,” he said, elated.

Yet Yegyeol, frowning as he scrutinized Hwangbo Yulhee’s face, had already stopped listening to Dang Segi.

Wait—no, that can’t be. But—

Yegyeol clamped his mouth shut.

The longer he stared, the clearer it became why he’d thought her beautiful.

She bore a striking resemblance to a younger—no, childlike—version of Je Haryang. If the boy Je Haryang had been a girl when he first entered Kunlun, she might have looked exactly like this.

Given that she so resembled his elder, it was inevitable that Yegyeol would find her beautiful.

A line from a modern drama suddenly popped into his head, oddly fitting the scene.

Applying it to this moment, his private thought read:

‘Yulhee, Haryang is your father.’

Even as he knew how absurd the idea sounded, Yegyeol’s face drained white.