Ham Gyojang stepped up to the podium. Applause filled the hall. Gye Wol-hwa clapped a few times, too. Yeongchae thought, Ah, this is the man who spoke at Bubyeokru. With a dignified bearing, Ham Gyojang gazed down at the audience for a long moment, then opened his mouth.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "your ancestors' hearts were never as corrupt as yours, nor were they as lazy and spiritless. The spirit of our forefathers who built Pyongyang Fortress was grand, and the will of those who erected Ulmil Pavilion and Bubyeokru was great." He paused, bowing his head as if deeply moved. Then he lifted his gaze once more. "Ladies and gentlemen! The water of the Daedong River flows away day by day. The water that once reflected our ancestors as they built Pyongyang Fortress and Ulmil Pavilion—where has it gone, no one knows. But Moranbong stands distinct, eternal, unchanged, bearing the footprints of our ancestors. Ah, ladies and gentlemen! Have you entrusted the spirit you received from your magnificent ancestors to the flowing Daedong River? Or to Moranbong, rising high for all time?" Tears streamed down his face as he paused. The entire assembly bowed their heads in solemn silence.
After lamenting the corruption of the Korean people in various ways, he raised his voice once more. "Ladies and gentlemen! Let us tear down this crumbling Pyongyang Fortress and Ulmil Pavilion, cast them into the flowing Taedong River, and build a new Pyongyang Fortress and a new Ulmil Pavilion with our new spirit and new energy!" He descended the platform gracefully, and the hall shook with applause and cheers for a long time. Gye Wol-hwa gripped Yeongchae's hand tightly, her body trembling. Startled, Yeongchae looked at her and saw large tears dripping onto the skirt of her hanbok, soaking the fabric.
Seeing Ham Gyojang's bearing and hearing his speech, Yeongchae thought of her deceased father. Crying, she followed Gye Wol-hwa home. But Gye Wol-hwa's tears were different from Yeongchae's. What kind of tears were they?
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Back home, Gye Wol-hwa collapsed onto the floor and said to Yeongchae, "Yeongchae, I have found the person I was searching for. When I saw Ham Gyojang's bearing and heard his words at Bubyeokru, I realized I was naturally entranced. And now, hearing his bearing and words again this evening, my heart has gone entirely to him. Among all Joseon, I have finally met the person I sought." She smiled faintly. Only then did Yeongchae understand the meaning of Gye Wol-hwa's tears. She had thought of Ham Gyojang like a father, but Gye Wol-hwa thought of him like a beloved lover. She looked at Gye Wol-hwa's face again. Clear tears clung to Gye Wol-hwa's eyebrows. Gye Wol-hwa continued,
"Yeongchae, do you know the meaning of the song we sang at Bubyeokru that day?
When all the world dreams, I alone rise, Look up to the sky, And sing a sorrowful song.
Do you know what that song means?"
Yeongchae felt she understood, but couldn't put it into words, so she sat in silence. Gye Wol-hwa looked at her for a long time, then said,
"All Joseon sleeps and dreams, but Ham Gyojang alone has woken and risen. The so-called first-class gentlemen who visit us are all sleeping people, and among them, only Ham Gyojang has awakened."
Yeongchae thought that seemed plausible. "Then why does he look up to the sky and sing a sorrowful song?"
"When you wake up and look around, you see that all the world is still dreaming. No matter how much you shout 'Wake up, wake up,' they don't know how to wake; they just talk in their sleep. How could you not feel lonely and sorrowful? That's why he looks up to the sky and sings a sorrowful song." She pulled Yeongchae's hand and made her lie down on her lap. "But I too look up to the sky and sing a sorrowful song."
Yeongchae understood to some extent. "Why? Why do you sing a sorrowful song?"
"Among the fifty or sixty gisaeng in Pyongyang, who else is awakened besides me? None of them know what a person is or what heaven is—only I am awakened. I am lonely, I am sad. You are the only one I can share my feelings with." She rubbed her forehead against Yeongchae's back and hugged her so tightly it felt like her waist might break. Now Yeongchae understood everything Gye Wol-hwa said. Gye Wol-hwa continued,
"I am twenty years old now. After searching for twenty years, I have finally found my friend. But now that I've found him, I know he is a friend I can only meet briefly, not one I can talk to for long. So I will go now." She sat Yeongchae up and spoke in an even more affectionate tone,
"You and I have lived like siblings for three years. This too is a great fate. Who would have thought that you, born in the land of Anju, and I, born in the land of Pyongyang, would meet like this and live so affectionately? Don't forget me even after I'm gone, and call me 'older sister,'" she said, then collapsed crying. Yeongchae found Gye Wol-hwa's words strange. A chill ran down her spine.
"Older sister! Why are you saying such things tonight?" she asked. Gye Wol-hwa got up, wiped her tears, and sat blankly for a moment before saying,
"Don't ever be fooled by people in this world. Live your life alone. Make friends of the ancients. Unless you meet someone who truly pleases your heart." After saying this, the two of them slept in the same bed again that night. They faced each other and held each other tightly. But young Yeongchae soon fell asleep. Gye Wol-hwa looked at Yeongchae's face, breathing peacefully in sleep, for a long time. Then she pressed her lips hard against Yeongchae's. Without waking, Yeongchae wrapped her slender arm around Gye Wol-hwa's neck and hugged her tightly. Gye Wol-hwa's body trembled violently. She quietly got up, opened the wardrobe, took out her jade ring from the drawer, slipped it onto the sleeping Yeongchae's finger, and hugged her again.
The short summer night passed. Yeongchae woke groggily and tried to embrace Gye Wol-hwa with her arm. But the place where Gye Wol-hwa had lain was empty. Yeongchae sprang up in shock. "Older sister! Older sister!" she called. There was no answer. There would never be an answer. When Yeongchae saw the jade ring on her finger, she cried. That evening, a fishing boat on the Daedong River hauled in a corpse. It was Gye Wol-hwa. She had left no final words. No one knew why she died. Only Yeongchae, wearing the jade ring, understood Gye Wol-hwa's intention and shed hot tears. Her so-called mother cursed, "That wretched girl!" and lamented the loss of her source of income. Kim Yun-su's son from a wealthy family in Pyongyang grumbled, "Crazy bitch!" and regretted losing his plaything. Her body was wrapped in coarse hemp cloth and carried by two or three water carriers on a pole, then buried on Bukmangsan outside the North Gate. That evening, a hand wearing a jade ring scattered a handful of flowers and a handful of tears on the grave. No tombstone was erected, so who now can know which grave belongs to the famous gisaeng Gye Wol-hwa? Whether Ham Gyojang ever knew of this remains unknown. Gye Wol-hwa was truly Yeongchae's "older sister." She was her friend. Gye Wol-hwa had indeed loved Yeongchae. And Yeongchae had been deeply influenced by her.
The fact that Yeongchae had believed Hyung-sik was her lifelong partner and had kept her chastity for seven years was half due to Gye Wol-hwa's influence. Yeongchae had even thought that if she couldn't find Lee Hyeong-sik, she would follow Gye Wol-hwa's path and throw herself into the Daedong River. Then she happened to learn where Lee Hyeong-sik was and thought her wish had been fulfilled. But what if he was already married? What if, even if he wasn't married, he learned she was a gisaeng and turned away from her? She had known Hyung-sik's whereabouts for over a month but hadn't sought him out. And when she finally went to see him the day before, she had started to tell him about her circumstances but stopped midway and returned—that was for this reason. What became of Yeongchae after she returned from Hyung-sik's house?
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When Yeongchae faced Hyung-sik and began telling him about her life, she suddenly thought: she was a gisaeng. Hearing that he was not yet married, she felt a brief joy. But she knew that if he learned she was a gisaeng, he would surely turn away. And even if he were willing to look after her, her body could only be redeemed with money. Observing his living conditions, she realized he lacked the means to save her. She thought it would be better to be abandoned in his heart after he learned she was a gisaeng, or even if he didn't abandon her, to spare him the futile torment of being unable to save her—better than any of this was to plunge into the Taedong River and follow Gye Wol-hwa, who had gone five years earlier, to play together in the afterlife. Gye Wol-hwa's face appeared before Yeongchae, as if saying, "Yeongchae, come with me." So Yeongchae looked at the jade ring in her hand, broke off her story midway, and returned home.
Yeongchae resolved to go down to Pyongyang immediately. If she was going to throw herself away and abandon the world, she wanted to go to the Daedong River, the same place where her beloved "older sister Gye Wol-hwa" had ended her life. She would first go to Bukmangsan in Pyongyang, find her father's grave and Gye Wol-hwa's grave, and pour out all the feelings she had held in. Her father had died upon hearing she had become a gisaeng. She wanted to go to his grave and tell him that she had sold her body as a gisaeng only to save him and her two brothers; that in the six or seven years since becoming a gisaeng, she had fortunately not defiled the body he gave her; that she had kept her chastity for Lee Hyeong-sik, to whom her father had betrothed her; and that if there were souls after death, she wished to resolve in the afterlife the regret of not being able to serve him in life. If her father had gone to paradise, she would seek him there. If he had gone to hell, she would seek him there.
"I kept Gye Wol-hwa's request. I did not mingle with the world. I kept my bitter chastity for six or seven years for the person I had in mind. I lived the life that Gye Wol-hwa had lived and left behind. Now I am going to you."
As she thought these things, Yeongchae felt as if she were standing on Cheongnyu Cliff with the students who sang that song: "When all the world dreams, I alone wake, look up to the sky, and sing a sorrowful song." She thought of her nineteen years of ill-fated life. Especially the past memories that came to mind when she faced Hyung-sik—they were as vivid as if they had happened yesterday. Each scene stabbed her heart and scraped at her intestines. She thought how she had been born into this world without experiencing a single joy, and how her blossoming youth would vanish pointlessly into the indifferent waves of the Daedong River. It was both resentful and infinitely sorrowful and heartbreaking. Half of her nineteen years had been spent battered by a heartless world and people, made a plaything, and then she had met Lee Hyeong-sik, the one she had always longed for. But meeting him, it seemed he wouldn't be able to rescue her... Ah, what kind of fate is this? She cried alone in the dark room all night, unable to sleep. Why couldn't these arms embrace the person she longed for? Why couldn't these breasts nurse a beloved son or daughter? Why must the love and affection filling her heart go ungiven to the one she thought of? Why would her body only ever bear the name 'gisaeng' and never hear the affectionate and sacred names like 'wife,' 'madam,' 'mother,' or 'auntie'? 'Gisaeng!' 'Gisaeng!' What a loathsome name. Just hearing the word 'gisaeng' made her shudder.
Now, she heard that four or five people were trying to buy her body with gold. Over the past seven years, she had earned tens of thousands of won through song and dance, buying rice paddies, big houses, and silk clothes for her mistress. That should have been enough to earn her freedom, but her mistress's greed was not yet satisfied. She was trying to sell this body for a thousand or two thousand won. The seller was bad, but the buyer was no better. She had somehow kept her chastity until now, but once her body was sold as someone's concubine, what chastity would be left? Only death remained. Only death.
She was glad to have met the Lee Hyeong-sik she had longed for, but it was heartbreaking that even Hyung-sik, the one she had hoped for, lacked the power to save her.
Yeongchae fell into despair. She had thought that perhaps she had temporarily lost her way in a strange land and could return to a good world, to the hometown where good people lived, and enjoy the happiness she had in her family seven years ago. But it was all in vain. Even Hyung-sik, whom she had regarded as the only good person and the only one she could rely on, seemed just an ordinary man when she faced him. In Yeongchae's mind, after being battered among evil people for seven years, she had imagined that someone as good as Hyung-sik would be completely different in face, bearing, and speech from common people. But after meeting him, he was just an ordinary man. Right, there was no choice but to die. No choice but to go to the Daedong River. She couldn't bear to mix in this filthy world and prolong her life wretchedly. She would quickly go beneath the clear waves of the Daedong River to meet the beloved Gye Wol-hwa, embrace her, and talk.
But Yeongchae had no money. The next morning, she tried to borrow five won from a few friends. She couldn't get it. She sat in her room crying past noon. At the very time Hyung-sik was at Elder Kim's house, indulging in pleasant fantasies with Seon-hyeong and Sunae, Yeongchae was in her room, shedding tears and grieving bitterly. That evening, Hyung-sik came looking for Yeongchae. Did he find her?
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Hyung-sik stood for a long time looking at the lamp with "Gyewolhyang" written on it. Then he sent Huigyeong away and, with a look of determination, stepped inside the gate. There seemed to be no guests; it was quiet, not a sound. Without hesitation, he entered the courtyard. Lights were on in several rooms, but there was no sign of people. His heart pounding, unsure how to find her, he made a noise with his footsteps and cleared his throat loudly with an "Ahem!" An elderly plump woman came out of the other room. Hyung-sik took a step closer to the room. A gleaming lacquered jewelry box came into view, a pink mosquito net hung in the warmest spot, and in the right corner, a gayageum in a colorful case leaned diagonally against the wall. Hyung-sik thought, This must be Yeongchae's room. An inexplicable sadness and unease arose. Had she played the gayageum, sung, and danced with various men in this room? And then, inside that mosquito net, with a different man every day... He couldn't bear to think further. But where was Yeongchae? Had she already been sold to someone for "a thousand won"? Had she been sold on her way back from his house last night? Or, if she truly had strong integrity, had she already gone somewhere and killed herself? Thousands of thoughts flooded his mind. He looked at the plump old woman coming out of the other room—she seemed to be in her forties or fifties. So this must be the so-called "mother." The old woman held a round fan in one hand and a long tobacco pipe in her mouth. She was tying the strings of her silk jacket, apparently having been sitting topless inside. The thought "filthy old woman" made him feel uncomfortable. Seeing Hyung-sik's extremely shabby appearance, the old woman looked at him with contempt. "Who are you looking for?" she asked. No one so poorly dressed as Hyung-sik had ever come looking for Wolhyang. The old woman thought he was probably an errand boy for some rich man's son. That was why she treated a visitor to a gisaeng's house coldly with "Who are you looking for?" Hyung-sik knew she was looking down on him. He felt even more displeased. I am a fairly well-known figure in the educational world, he thought. But in the old woman's eyes, there were only rich men and playboys; "a fairly well-known figure in the educational world" didn't exist. If Hyung-sik had come in a fine Western suit with a pink necktie, drunk, carrying a cane, and calling out "Hey there!" the old woman would have hurriedly put down her pipe, run into the yard, and greeted him with a broad smile, "Oh my, the master has come!" But a man like Hyung-sik, in a coarse ramie overcoat and a fly-specked hemp hat, neither drunk nor carrying a cane nor shouting "Hey there!"—such a man was, in the old woman's eyes, the lowest sort. Hyung-sik finally managed to speak.
"Where has Miss Wolhyang gone?" he asked. He immediately regretted addressing "Wolhyang" with the honorific "Miss." But Hyung-sik had never called anyone by name without adding "Miss" or "Mr." He thought it proper to use the honorific title when addressing a woman's name. So-called "society people" might address female students with "Miss" but not gisaeng, but Hyung-sik didn't know how to distinguish between a female student and a gisaeng. In his mind, a female student and a gisaeng were both equally human. So he decided it was right to add "Miss" to "Wolhyang," and after thinking for a while, he gathered all his courage and said, "Where has Miss Wolhyang gone?" But after saying it, he felt a bit embarrassed. He looked at the old woman's face. She seemed to suppress a laugh, her mouth twitching.
"Miss Wolhyang has gone out with a guest. Why do you ask?"
"Where did she go?"
The old woman thought, This fellow is truly a country bumpkin. "She went to Cheongnyangni this afternoon. She said she'd be back by six, but she hasn't come yet," she said, then as if annoyed, she went back inside without even a "Goodbye." From inside, a man's voice asked, "Who is it?" and the old woman's Pyongyang dialect replied, "Don't know. Some drifter showed up." Hyung-sik was both disappointed and ashamed and angry at being treated with contempt by the old woman. He turned back. He wanted to ask about Gyewolhyang's history—was she really the alias of Park Yeongchae?—but after being so humiliated by the old woman, he lost the courage to ask further. He stepped out of the gate.