Lee Hyeong-sik, an English teacher at Gyeongseong School, finished his fourth-year class at two in the afternoon. Sweating under the blazing June sun, he made his way to Elder Kim's house in Andong. Elder Kim had hired him as a private tutor for his daughter, Seon-hyeon, who was preparing to study in the United States next year. The lessons were to begin today at three o'clock, one hour each day.
Hyeong-sik was still a bachelor. He had never been close with a woman, and like many pure young men of his kind, the mere prospect of facing a young lady made him burn with shyness. His face flushed hot, his head bowed of its own accord. One might call this unbecoming for a man, but it was surely better than the ways of those clever fellows who seized any excuse to approach a woman, to speak even a single word to her.
Hyeong-sik's mind churned with thoughts. First, how should he greet her when they met? Should he do it man-to-man? "How do you do? I'm Lee Hyeong-sik." But then—for even a moment—he was the teacher and she the student. Wouldn't that create some distinction? Perhaps it would be proper to wait for her to greet him first, and only then respond. And then there was the teaching method. What was the best way? He had been thinking about it ever since Elder Kim made the request yesterday, but no good solution came. Should they sit across from each other at a desk in the middle of the room? Then their breaths would meet. Her hair ribbons might brush against his forehead. Beneath the desk, their knees might accidentally touch. At this thought, Hyeong-sik blushed and smiled to himself. No, no—what if he sinned, even in his heart? Right. He would sit as far from the desk as possible. If her knee touched his, he would startle and pull away. But what if his breath smelled? That would be an insult to a lady. He hadn't smoked after lunch, but still—he cupped his hand over his mouth and blew out gently. By feeling the breath on his palm and sniffing it, he could test for odor. Then he caught himself. Ah! What am I thinking? Is my heart so weak? He clenched both fists and tensed his whole body, trying to shake off such feeble thoughts. But an inexplicable fire flared in his chest.
Just then—
"Mr. Lee, where are you off to?"
Startled, he looked up. Shin Woo-seon, well known among his friends for his cheerfulness, came striding down the street with a swagger, a hat of curled wood shavings perched on his head. Hyeong-sik, afraid that Shin might have read his mind, barely suppressed another wave of heat in his cheeks. Forcing a cheerful smile, he shook Shin's hand.
"It's been a while."
"'It's been a while'? What do you mean? Didn't we agree to drop the formalities the other day?"
Hyeong-sik turned his head, a little ashamed. "I'm still not used to that kind of talk..." He let the sentence trail off.
"So where are you headed? If you're not in a hurry, let's grab lunch."
"I've already eaten."
"Then how about a beer?"
"Do I drink?"
"Come on. A man who can't even down a beer? Enough talk—let's go." Shin grabbed Hyeong-sik's arm and pulled him into a Chinese restaurant in front of the Andong Police Box.
"Not today. Any other day I wouldn't refuse..." Hyeong-sik's heart pounded as he wondered if the phrase "any other day" sounded odd. "I have something to do."
"Something to do? What? What could possibly stop you from having a drink?"
Another man might have simply said, "I have urgent business," and been done with it. But Hyeong-sik was by nature honest and timid, incapable of even a small lie. He hesitated for a long moment.
"I have a tutoring session at three."
"English?"
"Yes."
"Who's the student?"
Hyeong-sik's words caught in his throat. Shin studied his face intently with eyes that seemed to pierce through to his very lungs. Hyeong-sik lowered his head as if dazzled.
"Hmm, who is it that you can't speak and your face turns red? Huh?"
Embarrassed, Hyeong-sik rubbed his neck and laughed helplessly.
"A woman."
"Yo—omedetou (ah—congratulations). Looks like you've got yourself a iinasuke (fiancée). Hmm, naruhodo (I see). And you didn't say a word to me? Hey now!" Shin clapped his hands.
Hyeong-sik, flustered, scraped the ground with his shoe. "No, it's not that. You see, you wouldn't know. There's an Elder Kim..."
"Right! Elder Kim's daughter, isn't it? Hmm. Right, last year. She graduated at the top of her class from Jeongsin Girls' School and is going to America next year. Very good."
"How did you know?"
"You think I wouldn't? Iyashikumo (At the very least), I'm a newspaper reporter. So when did you get engaged?"
"No. She's preparing, so they asked me to come one hour a day. Today is my first time going."
"Ah, don't try to fool me."
"What?"
"Hee hee, she's famous for being a beauty. I doubt you'll manage with your abilities, but try to charm her well. Well, see you later." Shin took off his wood-shavings hat and fanned himself with it as he disappeared into Gyo-dong alley. Hyeong-sik had always faulted Shin for his dissipation, but today he found himself almost envying that easygoing boldness.
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Hyeong-sik didn't dislike hearing the word "beauty," but the words "iinasuke" and "engagement" rang in his ears with a strange joy. Yet Shin had said, "I doubt you'll manage with your abilities." And indeed, Hyeong-sik had no power at all. In this age of gold, he had no golden power. In this age of knowledge, he had no knowledge that others would look up to. Though he had believed in Jesus for a long time, he had no real interest in the church, and his standing within it was not great. Whenever he saw children with neither learning nor virtue become deacons or inspectors just by fawning around pastors' and elders' houses, strutting with self-importance inside the church, Hyeong-sik felt sick. Truly, he had no power to attract the affection of a high-collared young lady. These thoughts naturally brought him disappointment, even sorrow.
Around this time, he arrived at the gate of a house bearing a nameplate that read "Kim Gwang-hyeon." Though Jesus' disciple taught not to possess even two coats, this enlightened disciple had bought land and employed dozens of servants. Elder Kim was one of the top two or three noblemen and wealthy men in the Seoul Jesus Church. His house was quite large, with a row of annex buildings stretching over ten gan in length. Feeling oppressed by status and wealth—both fearful and displeased—Hyeong-sik cleared his throat and called out, "Is anyone there?" But his voice, try as he might to steady it, came out weak and trembling, like a country bumpkin calling out for the first time in Seoul.
"Please come in," a maidservant said. Hyeong-sik's heart pounded as if for the first time in his life as he passed through the inner gate and stepped up onto the main wooden veranda. In the old days, an outside guest would never have set foot inside the inner gate, but times had changed and many customs had been reformed. The main hall had glass doors in a semi-Western style. In the center stood a table covered with an embroidered cloth, surrounded by four or five red-velvet chairs. Against the north wall, a desk as long as the room itself was piled with new and old books. Elder Kim appeared on the veranda with a smile, waited for Hyeong-sik to untie his shoelaces, then took his hand and led him inside. Hyeong-sik made a deep, respectful bow, then sat in the offered chair.
Elder Kim was a clean-cut man of about forty-five or six. A nobleman who had served as a county magistrate and a provincial governor, he had joined the Jesus Church over ten years ago and become an elder the previous year. He offered Hyeong-sik a fan.
"Very hot. Please, use the fan."
"Yes, it seems to be the first hot day of the year." Hyeong-sik fanned himself a few times and placed the fan on the table.
Elder Kim rang a bell on the table twice. From the room across the way, a pretty girl of about thirteen or fourteen answered, "Yes," and brought out a small tray bearing a glass bowl and a silver Western spoon, setting them before Hyeong-sik. The sight alone was refreshing: peach punch with a handful of ice floating in it. It looked as though it had been prepared in advance, waiting for the guest's arrival.
"Here, have this in the heat." Elder Kim personally picked up the spoon and offered it to Hyeong-sik.
Hyeong-sik saw no need to refuse and drank a dozen spoonfuls. He wanted to lift the bowl with both hands and gulp it down, but afraid of looking undignified, he stopped, though he wanted more. Even so, his insides felt cleared, his sweat subsided, and his mind brightened.
Elder Kim said, "As I mentioned the other day, I'd like you to trouble yourself for my daughter. I know you're busy, but I have no one else to ask. There may be many who know English, but... well... how should I put it... someone like you is rare." He paused, looking at Hyeong-sik as if to say, You're a trustworthy fellow.
Hyeong-sik was both deeply pleased and proud that his character was trusted enough for a man to entrust his young daughter to him. But remembering how he had tested his own breath with his hand earlier, a wave of shame and apology surged up. In truth, Elder Kim had heard from many people and observed Hyeong-sik himself, and he trusted Hyeong-sik's character completely. That was why he had made this arrangement. He would not have entrusted his precious daughter—whom he was sending to America—to a young teacher for even an hour a day without thorough vetting. Elder Kim continued, "So I'd like you to take charge and teach her enough to know something within a year."
"I'm afraid I don't know much myself, so I feel uneasy."
"Not at all. Not just English—I've heard all about your learning." He rang the bell again, and the same girl came out. "Take this in and tell your mistress to come out here with the young lady."
"Yes." She took the tray and went inside. Hyeong-sik heard whispering from the other room. His insides churned, his heart pounded, and his cheeks burned as if he were waiting for some great event to happen for the first time in his life. Careful not to catch Elder Kim's eye, he quietly straightened his collar and posture, trying to put as much mature dignity as possible into his eyes and face.
Soon, the reed blind of the room across the way lifted. A woman of about forty, dressed in a light jade ramie jacket and ramie skirt, came to the table with a female student in similar attire following behind her. Hyeong-sik half-bowed as he stood, respectfully raising his joined hands. The woman and the student also bowed, then sat on the chairs Elder Kim indicated. Hyeong-sik sat as well.
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Elder Kim gestured toward Hyeong-sik. "This is the gentleman I've always spoken of, Mr. Lee Hyeong-sik. Though young, he has profound learning and is famous for his writing. I asked him to teach Seon-hyeon English, and though he is busy, he has kindly accepted. From now on, he will come every day, so even when I am out, you must receive him well." He turned to Hyeong-sik. "This is my wife, and this is my daughter. Her name is Seon-hyeon. She graduated from Jeongsin School last year, but she's still a child who knows nothing."
Hyeong-sik bowed his head, not sure whom to face. The wife and Seon-hyeon returned the greeting. The wife looked at Hyeong-sik. "We are grateful that you will trouble yourself for our child. A young man like you—how did you study so much? We are truly indebted."
"Not at all," Hyeong-sik said, raising his head briefly as if to glance at the wife, but his eyes went to Seon-hyeon. She stood a step behind her mother, half her ear and body hidden. Her head was bowed, her eyes not visible, but her thick black eyebrows, left to grow naturally, traced clear spring mountains across her broad white forehead. Her black hair, without a trace of oil, was combed—when, he couldn't tell—but a few stray strands drifted across her peach-blossom cheeks, stirred by the breeze, brushing against her tightly closed lips. Through the narrow-collared fine ramie jacket, the healthy, delicate flesh of her arms glowed faintly. Her hands resting on her knees seemed carved from jade, as if they would be translucent in the light.
That woman—the wife—had originally been Buyong, a famous gisaeng of Pyongyang, renowned for her beauty, literary skill, and excellence in song and dance. She had earned the nickname "Pyongyang Chunghyang." About twenty years ago, when Elder Kim's father was serving as governor in Pyongyang, a youthful man of twenty-some in the throes of romance—then known as Lee Do-ryeong, the clerk of the study—had caught the eye of the young Master Kim. She became Elder Kim's concubine, and ten years ago, after his first wife passed away, he elevated her to the position of legal wife. For a noble family, making a gisaeng the legal wife was outrageous, but after Elder Kim believed in Jesus, he regretted keeping a concubine. Yet he also felt it would be wrong to abandon the woman with whom he had lived for over a decade and borne children, and he suffered great pangs of conscience. Then, whether fortunately or not, his first wife died. Refusing the urgings of his relatives and friends to remarry, he decisively made this woman his legal wife. Though past forty, with faint crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, one could still see the lovely, gentle appearance that had once melted the hearts of men. Seon-hyeon's eyebrows and lips were exactly like her mother's, not a hair's breadth different—and those alone were enough to make a beauty.
Hyeong-sik tried to think of Seon-hyeon as his younger sister. This was his habit whenever he faced a young woman: he could think of them as nothing but sisters. Yet something inexplicable stirred—a strange fire in his chest. This was inevitable when a young man and woman came close, like negative and positive charges that, as soon as they approach, resonate and spark. It was a law set by Heaven when it created all things; only by the power of morality and cultivation, to maintain social order, could it be controlled.
Seeing Hyeong-sik sitting in silence, Elder Kim said to Seon-hyeon, "Child, let's start the lesson right away. Ah, where is Sun-ae? She should learn too. I'll also learn whenever I have time."
"Yes." Seon-hyeon rose and went into the other room, returning with books and pencils. Behind her came a girl of the same age, also carrying books and pencils, who bowed respectfully. Elder Kim said, "This is Sun-ae, my daughter's friend. A pitiful child with no parents and no home."
Hearing this, Hyeong-sik thought of his own circumstances and his sister's, and looked at Sun-ae again. Her clothes and hair were exactly like Seon-hyeon's, showing the bond between the two girls. But what could not be hidden was the mark of life's hardships, imprinted on her face from an early age. It was the same look Hyeong-sik saw in the mirror when he looked at himself, and the same look he saw on his poor sister's face. Seeing Sun-ae, the flutter in his chest subsided, replaced by a new, heavy emotion. An involuntary sigh of sympathy escaped him, and he looked at Sun-ae once more. Sun-ae looked back at him.
Elder Kim and his wife went into the other room. Hyeong-sik and the two girls sat facing each other. Hyeong-sik tried to be calm.
"Have you studied English before?"
It was the first time he heard the two girls' voices. But they only bowed their heads and said nothing. Hyeong-sik sat blankly for a moment, then asked again, "Have you studied a little before?"
Only then did Seon-hyeon raise her head and look at Hyeong-sik with eyes as clear as autumn water. "It's our very first time. This Sun-ae knows a little, though."
"No, I am also a beginner," Sun-ae said.
"Then you don't know A, B, C, D...? But of course you would."
For a woman's heart, admitting ignorance is shameful. Seon-hyeon's already pink cheeks flushed deeper. "I used to memorize them, but I've forgotten everything."
"Then shall we start with A, B, C, D?"
"Yes," they both answered.
"Then please give me your notebooks and pencils. I'll write A, B, C, D for you."
Seon-hyeon offered her notebook with the pencil placed on top, using both hands. Hyeong-sik opened the notebook, examined the pencil tip, and wrote a, b, c, d neatly. Below each, he added the Korean pronunciation: ei, bi, si. He handed it back with both hands to Seon-hyeon, then pulled Sun-ae's notebook and did the same.
"Then today we'll just memorize the letters. Starting tomorrow, we'll learn words. Now, let's read together. A." Still, the two students sat silently.
"Please repeat after me. Now, A. Say it louder. A."
Hyeong-sik was utterly at a loss, sitting dumbfounded. Seon-hyeon bit her lips to suppress a laugh, and Sun-ae, also holding back laughter, glanced at Seon-hyeon's face. Hyeong-sik felt both embarrassed and frustrated; he wanted to stand up and leave right then. Just then, Elder Kim came out. "Read, you silly girls. Do as your teacher says, not just sit there."
They stopped giggling and looked at their books. Hyeong-sik, with no choice, repeated, "A."
"A."
"B."
"B."
"C."
"C."
They went on like this through Y and Z, reading together three or four times. They agreed to memorize the sounds and letters by tomorrow, exchanged bows, and ended the lesson.
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Hyeong-sik left Elder Kim's house and returned directly to his lodging in Gyo-dong. Like a drunkard, he had no thoughts, didn't know where he was going—he simply came home by the habit of over a year. It wasn't so much that Hyeong-sik came home; rather, his feet dragged him there.