Byeongguk rolled up her sleeves and tucked up her skirt, then sat down and took the woman's hand.
"Yeongchae, come on, let's rub Useon down a bit."
Yeongchae rolled up her own sleeves and skirt too, went around behind the old woman, and said, "Mother, please get up." She tried to take the patient into her arms instead.
"Oh no, my whole body's covered in dirt. It'll get all over your pretty clothes," the old woman said, refusing to budge. Yeongchae had no choice but to sit beside her and straighten the woman's disheveled hair. Seon-hyeong sat and massaged her feet and legs. Onlookers gathered in a ring. The three girls' white hands were stained with yellow mud.
Before long, Hyung-sik came running up, sweating.
"Come on, let's go over there. I've already told them to light a fire in the room."
The old woman wept. "They say parents live for their children—there's no greater kindness than this. Oh, how can I ever repay this?" She turned to the young man. "Son, carry her on your back." She helped the patient sit up. Without a word, the young man glanced at Hyung-sik's group, then hoisted the patient onto his back. She wrapped both arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder. Hyung-sik led the way, the mud-stained old woman pressed one hand against the patient's back, and the three girls followed behind. The onlookers muttered among themselves, trailing them for a while, then one by one they dropped away.
They brought her into the inn, changed her clothes, and laid her down. Hyung-sik went to call a doctor while the three girls massaged her whole body. The old woman sat by the patient's head and just cried, then said her chest hurt and lay down. She'd had chest pains when she was young, and after being chilled by the cold rain all day, it had flared up again. Yeongchae and Seon-hyeong took charge of the pregnant woman, while Byeongguk nursed the old woman. The old woman kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but whenever she came to a little, she would say, "Such kindness! I'll never forget it even in death. May you be blessed with wealth, honor, many sons and daughters, live well, and go to paradise." The three girls lowered their heads and giggled.
Yeongchae and Seon-hyeong, sweating, massaged the pregnant woman's limbs and stroked her belly. Yeongchae's hand and Seon-hyeong's hand kept touching. Each time, the two girls stole a glance at each other. Yeongchae said to Seon-hyeong, "Let me go boil some water in the kitchen," and stood up. Seon-hyeong said, "No, I'll do it!" But Yeongchae took her hand and made her sit down. "Please keep massaging her. I'll bring the water," she said, and went out. Seon-hyeong stared blankly after Yeongchae as she left. Then she quietly closed her eyes. She didn't understand what was happening. Byeongguk watched Yeongchae and Seon-hyeong talking and smiled to herself.
When Yeongchae came back with the boiled water and she and Seon-hyeong were washing the pregnant woman's hands and feet, Hyung-sik arrived with the doctor. While the doctor examined her, everyone stood in a circle, watching only his mouth and eyes. Even the young man who had been sitting silently outside the door leaned in and watched the examination.
"There's nothing to worry about," the doctor said. He said he would send medicine and left with the young man. The pregnant woman and the old woman had regained some composure now. Though they still groaned in pain from time to time, their faces had eased somewhat. The old woman kept repeating her blessings: "Such kindness! May you be blessed with wealth, honor, many sons and daughters."
From what the old woman said...
She had been widowed young and raised a son through every kind of hardship. As her son grew up, he got married, and though they farmed someone else's land, they managed to live contentedly enough. She had built a small house with her own hands and bought a patch of land with her own money. And since her daughter-in-law was pregnant, she looked forward to holding her grandchild and having nothing left to envy. But yesterday, the crops she'd planted were completely washed away by the water, and this morning, even the house was flooded. At this point, the old woman sobbed, "I hope the house hasn't been swept away." The house she had earned through sixty years of toil—if it was swept away, she would never see her own house again in this lifetime. To hold her grandchild and die on the warm floor of her own home—that was her only wish. The house, even if sold, would hardly fetch ten won, but to this family it was more precious than a palace. In the old woman's eyes, only that small house with its stone wall existed. Every time she thought of the waves destroying it, it felt like her own flesh was being cut away. So she said, "Just when I thought I might enjoy a little happiness, this happens. What sin did I commit in my past life that even my child must suffer like this?"
"Don't think that way! You'll live well again. God is watching," Yeongchae comforted her. Then she remembered how Byeongguk had comforted her the night before and smiled to herself.
"Oh dear, maybe I'll live well only in the next life..." She stopped mid-sentence, raised her head sharply, and looked at her daughter-in-law. "Is your stomach pain any better? If it weren't for these young ladies, we would have surely died." And she began reciting the blessings again.
Byeongguk went into the police station and requested to see the chief. The chief looked at her curiously.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing serious," she began. Among the flood victims, she explained, there were patients, pregnant women, and mothers with nursing babies. They hadn't eaten breakfast, they were soaked in the rain and shivering—a pitiful sight. And because the mothers had nothing to eat, their milk had dried up, and the crying of the babies was unbearable. So, since the bus to Busan was delayed by the rain and wouldn't leave until afternoon, she wanted to hold a charity concert. With the proceeds, she hoped to make warm soup with rice for those poor people. She asked for permission and support.
The chief looked increasingly astonished, then said in a moved voice, "Is there someone who can play music?"
"How can I expect to do it well? But I attend music school. And I have two female companions who can sing some songs they learned at girls' school..."
The chief was deeply impressed. "Indeed, the authorities were also considering relief measures. But this happened so suddenly." He paused to think. "I am truly grateful. Permission, of course, is granted." He stood up abruptly, put on his hat, and went out.
The chief went to the station, negotiated with the stationmaster to use the waiting room as a concert hall, and sent a policeman to spread the word to every inn and street. Passengers who had been waiting four or five hours and were growing restless all gathered in the waiting room. Among them were a few third-class passengers in white clothes. They brought out every available chair, and nearby inns lent chairs too. The narrow waiting room was packed. They placed a large table near the ticket gate to serve as a stage. The crowd had heard the words "charity concert," but didn't know who would perform, so they stared wide-eyed at the stage. Soon the chief went to the side of the stage, looked around at the audience, and began.
"I have asked you to gather here for a reason. Ladies and gentlemen! Look at that hillside. There, our unfortunate compatriots who have lost their homes in the flood are wandering without food, soaked in the rain. And just now, a beautiful young woman came to the police station and asked to hold a concert so that those poor people might have a warm meal. We do not know how well she can play, but I am confident that her beautiful sincerity will move the hearts of all ladies and gentlemen present who have blood and tears." The chief's voice choked, and tears flowed. A wave of emotion swept through the crowd. Here and there, women blew their noses. The chief continued.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We must respond to this young woman's sincerity. Now I introduce her." He called the three girls who had been standing neatly in a corner. With Byeongguk holding a violin at the front, the three girls bowed humbly to the audience. The waiting room burst into applause. Some people were so moved they shouted.
On behalf of the three, Byeongguk said, "We do not claim to be musicians. We only ask for your sympathy, ladies and gentlemen. Moreover, since we have no sheet music during our journey, we are performing from memory, so there will be many mistakes." She tilted her head, tuned the violin strings, and began the "Sad Song from Aida." The audience was silent. The sad sound of the four strings, now breaking off, now continuing, gently stirred everyone's hearts.
That melody was the most suitable for the occasion. The audience, already heavy-hearted with sorrow, felt like crying. As Byeongguk's hand followed the bow, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, rising and falling, the breaths of the audience seemed to match it, breaking off and resuming. Rather than describing the feeling of hearing that sad melody at length, it would be best to recall the ancient poet of Jiangzhou lamenting over his pipa. The plaintive, thin sound lingered long, as if it would never end. Then Byeongguk cradled the violin and lowered her head. Even louder applause arose than before, and voices called for one more piece. A peach-blossom blush spread across Byeongguk's face.
Next came Yeongchae's solo of the hymn "When I Think of the Past, I Am Ashamed," which she had learned from Byeongguk. Accompanied by Byeongguk's violin, Yeongchae sang with expression on her face. Her voice, trained for over ten years, was truly free and expressive. Even those who didn't know how to appreciate the refined violin melody were captivated by Yeongchae's beautiful voice. When she sang "Flowing two streams of tears, with no place to shed them," tears welled up in everyone's eyes. Then the three sang a song that Yeongchae had written in Chinese characters and Hyung-sik had translated, performed as a trio. It was about the poor people who had lost their homes and were soaked in the rain. This song moved the listeners even more deeply. The song went like this:
The baby fusses, Fusses for milk. But even when squeezed, no milk comes— What can I feed it to keep it alive?
What we worked hard to earn in spring and summer, The merciless red waves Swept away in one night. Rain falls and wind blows, And even the day grows dark.
Aged parents, young children— With no home, where can they sleep? A warm bowl of rice, Let us mix it with soup and give it. A warm bowl of rice, Let us mix it with soup and give it.
This simple song and its heartfelt melody finally drew tears from the audience. With sincere and solemn applause, the three girls bowed humbly and withdrew. Waiting for the applause to end, the chief stood again.
"Your eyes hold tears of emotion. On behalf of all of you, I dare to express our gratitude to these three young women." He bowed toward them. They returned the bow. The audience applauded.
Thus the short concert, less than an hour long, ended. The people collected over eighty won on the spot. The chief gave the money to Byeongguk, saying, "Use it as you see fit." This was a sign of respect. But Byeongguk refused, saying, "I hope you will take charge of it, Chief." The chief, as if receiving the money from Byeongguk, bowed once more and announced to the audience that he would use the money in the best possible way to relieve the flood victims. The audience wanted to know the names of Byeongguk and the other two, but they only bowed without speaking.
Meanwhile, the homeless still sat on the ground, not knowing what to do. Gradually, they grew hungry and began to shiver, but they had no recourse. They only hoped that things would work out as they would.
They are indeed powerless. Who can resist the violence of nature? But they are too powerless. Their lifelong, back-breaking efforts to build a foundation for life have been washed away in one night of rain—they are that powerless. The foundation of their lives is like something built of sand. Once the rain stops and the water recedes, they will scrape together the scattered sand to build a new foundation. It is like ants digging the earth with their thin, weak legs to make a nest. Having lost everything in one night of rain and shivering, they seem pitiful, yet also too weak and foolish.
Looking at their faces, they don't seem to have any wisdom. They all look dull and numb. They only know how to dig the ground with a few pennies' worth of farming knowledge. Thus, if God leaves them alone for a few years, they may save up some rotten rice, but once the flood comes, it all washes away. So they never become richer, only poorer. Their bodies grow weaker and their minds duller. Left as they are, they will eventually become a race no different from the Ainu of Hokkaido.
They need strength. They need knowledge. So that the foundation of their lives can be made secure.
"Science! Science!" Hyung-sik cried out alone, sitting back in the inn. The three girls looked at him.
"Above all, we must give Joseon people science. We must give them knowledge." He clenched his fist, stood up, and paced the room. "What did you think of that scene today?"
The three didn't know how to answer. After a moment, Byeongguk smiled and said, "I thought it was pitiful. Isn't that right?" During their activities today, they had grown much closer.
"Yes, it is pitiful! Then where does the cause lie?"
"Certainly in the lack of civilization—the lack of strength to live."
"Then how must we save them—no, not them, but us—how must we save them?" Hyung-sik looked at Byeongguk. Yeongchae and Seon-hyeong alternated glances between Hyung-sik and Byeongguk. Byeongguk said confidently, "We must give them strength, give them civilization."
"And to do that?"
"Teach them, guide them!"
"How?"
"Through education, through action."
Yeongchae and Seon-hyeong didn't fully understand the meaning of this dialogue. They believed they knew, but not as thoroughly and firmly as Hyung-sik and Byeongguk. Yet the scene they had just witnessed gave them a vivid education—one they could not learn in school or from a great orator.
Their spirits were tense. Yeongchae, especially, had never heard such great issues debated. "How to save them?" was indeed a huge problem. Hyung-sik and Byeongguk, who discussed such great issues, seemed like very big people. Yeongchae thought of the poems of Du Zimei and Su Dongpo that worried about the world, and also remembered five years ago when she had heard the principal of Daeseong School speak together with Wol-hwa. At that time, she was too young to understand clearly, but she remembered thinking when he said, "Your ancestors were never as dull as you," that indeed the people she met every day were dull. Yeongchae felt there was a common point between that speech and Hyung-sik's words. She looked at Hyung-sik once more.
Hyung-sik pressed his lips tightly and said, "That's right. Through education, through action, we must teach them, guide them! But who will do it?"
The three girls felt a chill.
Hyung-sik said again forcefully, "Who will do it?" and looked at each of the three girls. The three felt an indescribable spiritual emotion they had never experienced before. And at once, a chill ran through them.
Hyung-sik said once more, "Who will do it?"
"We will!" The answer fell from the three girls' lips without premeditation. A flame seemed to flash before their eyes. It was as if a great earthquake shook the whole earth. Hyung-sik sat with his head bowed for a while, then said,
"That's right. We must do it! This is the meaning of our going to study. Who gives us the money for our train fare and the tuition fees for our studies? Joseon gives it. Why? So that we may go and gain strength, gain knowledge, gain civilization... and come back to build a solid foundation for life upon a new civilization... Isn't that the meaning?" He took out his wallet from his vest pocket and pulled out the blue train ticket, holding it up. "In this train ticket are a few drops of sweat from those shivering people back there... from that young man! So that they may never suffer such misfortune again, right?" Hyung-sik shook his body and head as if making a new resolution. The three girls also shook their bodies.
At that moment, the exact same "what I must do" flashed through the hearts of all four like lightning. They felt as if there was no distinction between you and me, all becoming one body, one mind.
Seon-hyeong, from the moment Yeongchae had said "I'll boil the water" and taken her by the wrist to make her sit down, had gradually felt warmth toward Yeongchae. And when the three sang Yeongchae's song as a trio, she felt so fond of Yeongchae she wanted to hold her hand. And when the three said "We will!" in unison, she felt even closer to Yeongchae. Also, when Hyung-sik had been speaking with Byeongguk just now, she saw a kind of holy and solemn aura on his face, and she felt sorry for her previous thoughts about him. She had always wanted to love both Hyung-sik and Yeongchae equally. Now she looked anew at Hyung-sik and Yeongchae's faces.