"Yes, I was in Pyongyang, but now I'm in Seoul," Yeongchae said, finishing the piece she had picked up and sitting quietly. "Here, please eat some more," the lady said, and only when she offered another piece did Yeongchae take it and eat. It wasn't particularly tasty, but the salty meat sandwiched within didn't matter; the whole thing had no distinct flavor, yet possessed an ineffable refined taste. The lady picked up another piece, turned it over to look at both sides, and asked, "So, are you on vacation?"
Yeongchae felt terribly embarrassed, realizing the lady thought she was a schoolgirl. She also wondered how this Japanese lady could speak Korean so well—so well that she concluded the lady must be a Korean female student living in Japan.
"No, it's not that. I'm just traveling for a bit. I don't go to school."
"Then you've already graduated? Which school did you attend? Sookmyung? Jinmyung?"
"I haven't attended any school."
At this, the lady sat motionless, the rice cake in her mouth, not even chewing, just staring at Yeongchae. So what was this woman? The thought "a concubine" came to mind. The fact that she hadn't attended school stirred a trace of contempt, but also curiosity to know what kind of woman she was. After thinking for a while how to ask, she said, "Then do you have relatives in Pyongyang?"
Yeongchae also didn't know how to answer. She was going to die by evening, and this lady had been so kind that she wanted to tell her everything from beginning to end, but she was ashamed to speak, and didn't know where to start. So she sat silently, head bowed, still holding the rice cake. The lady also sat quietly. "This woman has some secret," she thought, and her curiosity grew even more. But seeing Yeongchae's discomfort, she changed the subject.
"My family is in Hwangju. I went to Tokyo to study and came back for break. This is my younger brother."
Yeongchae only said, "Yes—" and looked at the boy. The boy was leaning and sitting, blinking his eyes as he looked up at her, then when their eyes met, he turned to look out the window. His round, plump face, big eyes, and long eyebrows caught her attention. Yeongchae thought, what a lovely face, the siblings resemble each other. But no more words passed between them; they only occasionally glanced at each other. Yeongchae wished she had a younger brother like that. She also envied his situation of studying abroad in Tokyo. And she thought, I am going to die. Why am I so ill-fated? Why was I born to spend my life in tears and die? The train moves. The sun moves. The time of my death draws near, she thought, looking at her hands and body. Tears flowed without her knowing. She tried to hide them, but the more she tried to hold back, the more she sobbed, tears streaming. Finally, Yeongchae put her forehead on her knees, where she was sitting with legs folded, and cried.
The female student moved closer, pulled Yeongchae up, and asked, "Excuse me, what's wrong?"
Yeongchae grabbed the hand that had come under her chest, pressed it to her lips, and, still bowed, said, "Older sister, thank you. I am going to die. Ah, thank you," and cried harder.
"What?" the female student exclaimed in surprise. "What do you mean? Why? What happened? Tell me. I'll comfort you as much as I can. Why do you want to die? Now, stop crying and tell me. You should live. With your youth like a flower, you should live joyfully. Why do you want to die?" She wiped Yeongchae's tears with a handkerchief. Yeongchae opened her eyes wide and looked at the female student. Tears had welled up in the student's eyes too. It seemed strange that someone so lively and boyish could also have tears. And Yeongchae felt an intense fondness for the female student. The handkerchief that wiped Yeongchae's tears was stained with blood from her lips. The student quietly compared the blood and Yeongchae's face. A deep pity welled up.
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The female student listened to Yeongchae's tale of woe and asked, "So, do you still love that Hyung-sik?"
At the word "love," Yeongchae's heart jolted. Had she truly loved Hyung-sik? She couldn't tell. She had only known him as the man she must find, the man she must serve. In those seven or eight years, she had never once thought about whether she loved Hyung-sik. She had simply wanted to find him quickly, believed that meeting him would fulfill her wish, and thought that seeing him would make her happy. So Yeongchae stared blankly at the female student.
"I've never thought about that. We parted when we were young, so I couldn't even remember his face well..."
"Then your father told you to become that man's wife, so you've been searching for him all this time. Without really having any feelings of longing..."
"Yes. And I still remember the attachment from childhood. When I think of those days, I feel a kind of yearning."
"That's understandable. Everyone remembers their childhood. Not just him—you must remember other children too, right?"
Yeongchae thought quietly for a moment.
"Yes, I remember many friends. But the memory of him is the most affectionate. Yet when I actually faced him the other day, he was different from what I remembered. It felt like even the old fondness was shattered. I don't know why. That evening I went home and cried, my heart so disappointed."
The female student nodded as if she understood well, then, seeming reluctant to speak, said, "So now you don't really love him anymore."
Yeongchae looked as if she didn't know her own mind, thinking for a long time.
"Well, seeing him was happy enough, but somehow he didn't feel like the person I had been waiting for and hoping for. He seemed like a different person from the one I had drawn in my heart. I wondered what was wrong. And he didn't seem particularly glad to see me either..."
"I see," the female student said, closing her eyes. Yeongchae also closed her eyes, wondering what she understood. The female student asked, "Then why did you decide to die?"
"How can I not die? I've lived all this time hoping for that one person, and now I've tainted my chastity..." A pained expression appeared on her face. "I can't serve him anymore... What is there to live for now?" She bowed her head in despair.
"I don't think that's a reason to die."
"Then what should I do?"
"Live! Why die?"
Yeongchae looked at the female student in surprise. The female student spoke in a firm voice.
"First, Yeongchae, you've been living deceived. You kept your chastity for no reason, without even loving Lee Hyung-sik. Because of one casual remark your father made as a joke, you've maintained a false chastity for seven or eight years. Isn't it futile to keep your chastity for someone you don't love, for someone who never even agreed? Isn't it like keeping your chastity for a dead person, for someone who doesn't exist in this world? Your heart is beautiful, and your chastity is steadfast. But that's all. Isn't there someone else worthy of that beautiful heart and that steadfast chastity? So now, if you love him, give your body and heart to him from now on. If not, find another man. But..."
"But what about the heart I've already given all this time? And the teachings of the ancient sages," she said.
"No. You've been dreaming all this time. You've been chasing a phantom. How can you give your heart to someone whose face and heart you don't know? That's just the bondage of old, mistaken ideas. People live by their own lives. Where is a husband you don't love? So your past is a dream. From now on, a true life will open."
Yeongchae was startled by these words. They seemed to contradict the ideal of the virtuous woman. Yet they seemed right. She had indeed never loved Hyung-sik; she had only created a man in her own heart, named him Hyung-sik, thought of him as the same person as the real Hyung-sik, and searched for Lee Hyung-sik instead of that man. When she saw Lee Hyung-sik, she realized he wasn't that man, became disappointed, and then despaired that she would never see Hyung-sik again. Thinking this way, Yeongchae felt both the realization that she had been mistaken and a new light dawning in her utter despair. So she looked at the female student and asked, "Will a true life open? Can I live again?"
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"A true life will open. Until now you've been deceiving yourself, so from now on a true life will open. Happiness awaits you, Yeongchae. Why would you throw away precious life when happiness is waiting ahead?" Thinking this would be enough to change Yeongchae's mind about dying, she said, "So stop crying and smile. Come on, let's smile." She smiled first. Yeongchae followed with a faint smile.
"Will happiness await me? But what about duty? Shall I abandon duty and seek happiness? Is that right?" She couldn't settle her mind.
"Duty? Do you think dying is your duty?"
"Isn't it?"
"Why would it be duty?"
"I gave my heart to someone, but before I could give him my body, I defiled it. Isn't it my duty to die?"
The female student nodded as if that settled it. "Then let me ask you a few things. First, did you give your heart to that Mr. Lee? In other words, did you give your heart of your own will, or was it because of your father's one remark?"
"That would have to be my father's doing."
"Then your father's one remark determined your entire life."
"Yes. Isn't that the way of the three obediences?"
"Hmph. That 'three obediences' has killed thousands of women and made thousands of men unhappy over thousands of years. Just a few letters, that enemy."
Yeongchae was shocked. "Then you're saying the three obediences are wrong?"
"It's a child's duty to obey parents, isn't it? It's a wife's duty to obey her husband, isn't it? But isn't the child's own life more important than the parents' words? Isn't the wife's own life more important than the husband's words? Deciding your own life for the sake of someone else's will is killing yourself. That is truly a crime against humanity. And the phrase 'after the husband dies, obey the son' shows the tyranny of men. It's a phrase that disregards women's personhood. A mother should teach and guide her son. What kind of absurdity is it for a mother to submit to her child?" The female student's face reddened as she attacked the old morality with vigor. "You, Yeongchae, have been a slave to these old ideas, suffering endlessly until now. Break that bondage. Wake from that dream. Become someone who lives for yourself. Gain your freedom!" An utterly solemn expression appeared on the female student's face.
"Then what should I do?" Yeongchae's thoughts were in great turmoil. She felt she had naturally entrusted her fate to the female student's hands. It seemed her life would be decided by the words that came from that student's mouth. So Yeongchae looked at the student's eyes and lips.
The female student said, "Women are people too. If they are people, they have many duties. Being a daughter, a wife, a mother—those are women's duties. But there are also many ways to fulfill one's duties as a human being: through religion, through science, through art, through work for society or the nation. Yet from ancient times in our country, being someone's wife was considered the entirety of a woman's duty, and even that was done according to others' will and others' words. Until now, women have been nothing more than a man's accessory, his property. You, Yeongchae, were your father's property and then tried to become Mr. Lee's property. Like some object passing from one person's hand to another... We must become people. Yes, we are women, but first we must become people. There is much for you to do, Yeongchae. You were never born just for your father and Mr. Lee. You were born for the millions of generations of Joseon past, for the sixteen hundred million fellow countrymen of the present, and for the millions of generations of descendants to come. So besides your duty to your father and your duty to Mr. Lee, you have duties to your ancestors, to your fellow countrymen, and to your descendants. And if you try to die without fulfilling those duties, that is a sin."
"Then what should I do?"
The female student smiled. "Start a new life from today."
"How do I start?"
"Start everything anew. Forget all that has passed and begin everything fresh. Until now you have lived according to others' will, but from now on..." She paused and looked at Yeongchae. Yeongchae's face reddened, her breath quickened, as if hanging on the student's eyes and lips. "From now on, how?" she asked.
"From now on, you live according to... your... own... will."
The train emerged from the mountains and raced across the Seoheung plains. A clear stream appeared on the left, then moved to the right. The two sat quietly, looking outside.
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Yeongchae was persuaded by the female student and got off at Hwangju. The student introduced Yeongchae to her family as her friend, and they agreed to share a room. In that house lived parents in their forties, an older brother three or four years older than the student, and a grandmother with a hunched back. The grandmother, seeing her granddaughter, said nothing but wept with joy. The student's mother was a kind and virtuous lady. Her father, even when his daughter bowed to him, showed no particular pleasure; instead, he turned his head away. The student saw this and smiled to herself. The brother greeted his sister with a smile. He touched her shoulder and said, "Why didn't you let us know you were coming?" Then he asked about Tokyo. The sister-in-law only smiled quietly in front of the parents, but when she sat face to face with the student, she held her hands, patted her back, and overflowed with delight. Watching all this, Yeongchae thought it was a pleasant household. And she remembered her own lost home.
That evening, except for the father, the whole family sat together, ate buckwheat noodles, and talked happily. Yeongchae sat quietly beside the student. The brother, perhaps feeling awkward around Yeongchae, talked for a while and then went outside, leaving only the women gathered. The student cheerfully looked from her grandmother to her mother to her sister-in-law, telling stories about her year in Tokyo. The grandmother occasionally smiled and nodded. The sister-in-law listened most eagerly. The mother, seemingly half-listening, busied herself with food and occasionally asked irrelevant questions. When her daughter said, "Mother, you're not listening," she replied, "Of course I am. Go on," but then said something else, making the young people laugh. Yeongchae laughed along with them. In truth, the mother didn't understand her daughter's stories well. The grandmother understood even less. The grandmother stopped smiling and started yawning. Only the sister-in-law and Yeongchae propped their chins on their hands and listened with interest. After a while, the mother, feeling sleepy, blinked and tears formed. She got up, took out a pillow, and handed it to the grandmother. "Mother, you should sleep. I can't understand a word those girls are jabbering about." She then lay down with her arm as a pillow. The two elders fell asleep, and the three young people talked late into the night. The three of them were happy. Yeongchae became close with the sister-in-law. That night they slept side by side in the same room. Yeongchae couldn't fall asleep for a long time, but eventually she did, and in her dream she saw Wolhwa.
When she woke in the morning, she laughed to herself. She had been on her way to die; the body that should have died last night was still alive. The thought was amusing. But she worried about what would become of her future.
The female student's name was Byeong-uk. From what she said, her original name was Byeong-ok, but because it was too soft and too feminine, she changed it to Byeong-mok, but that was too harsh and masculine, so she settled on the middle ground, Byeong-uk. One day she said to Yeongchae, "Byeong-uk is a bit plain, isn't it? I dislike the old idea that women should be demure and soft. But I also dislike being as tough and stiff as a man. I think the middle is truly right for a woman." She laughed. "Yeongchae, Yeongchae... a pretty name. But not overly feminine." At home, however, they didn't call her Byeong-uk; they called her Byeong-ok. When they said "Byeong-ok," she answered.
Byeong-uk thought Yeongchae was a very talented, quick-witted, and well-educated woman. At first, thinking Yeongchae might not understand, she chose the easiest words possible, but now she treated her almost as an equal. Yeongchae, of course, regarded Byeong-uk as someone with immeasurable knowledge and ideas. So she paid careful attention to whatever came out of Byeong-uk's mouth and tried hard to interpret it. Within two or three days, she had a general grasp of Byeong-uk's thoughts and realized they were almost the exact opposite of what she had always thought. And those thoughts seemed more reasonable to her. Now she understood and comprehended the words Byeong-uk had spoken on the train.