Chapter III
The Meeting with Kay See
MASTER SO-YOO bade his servant pay for the drink and rode off on his donkey towards Chon-jin Bridge. When he passed within the city walls he was struck by the beauty of the surrounding scenery, and the crowds of people confirmed the reports he had heard of its being a very busy world. The Nakyang River flowed across the city like a strip of white silk, and Chon-jin Bridge spanned its rippling wavelets with archways bearing down at the extreme ends as a rainbow drinks the water, or like a green dragon with bent back. The red ridges of the housetops rose high above the city, their blue tiles reflecting back the rays of the sun. Their grateful shadows fell upon the perfumed way. To So-yoo the city seemed the metropolis of all the world. Hastening forward till he reached the Chon-jin Pavilion, So-yoo stopped in front of it, where many finely caparisoned horses were tied, grooms and servants bustling about amid noise and confusion. So-yoo looked up, and from the upper storey of the pagoda came sounds of music that filled the air, while the fragrance from rich dresses and silken robes was wafted on the breeze.
The young master, thinking that the governor of Ha-nam must be giving a feast, sent his boy to inquire. He discovered that the young literati of the city had brought certain dancing girls with them and were planning an evening’s amusement. So-yoo, somewhat under the influence of wine, with his spirit awake to youthful adventure, dismounted from his donkey and went inside the hall. He found there a dozen or so of young men with a score of pretty girls sitting gracefully about on the silken matting, with dainty tables of food and drink placed before them. Laughter and jesting went on in merry and hilarious tones. All the dresses were of the finest fabrics and their appearance very striking.
Master Yang said: “I am a humble literatus from a remote province on my way to take part in the Government examination, and when passing here heard the sound of sweet music. My foolish heart, unable to go by without a greeting, has set aside all ceremony and come in as an uninvited guest. Please forgive me, noble gentlemen.”
Noting Yang’s handsome face, intelligent bearing, and well-measured words, they arose with one accord and responded to his salutation, giving him a place beside them, each announcing his name. Among them was a certain student No, who said: “Brother Yang, since you are a scholar on your way to the examination, though not an invited guest, you are welcome, and may take part in the entertainment for the day. We are delighted to have so distinguished a visitor, and you have no reason in the world to apologise.”
Yang’s reply was: “I see by your gathering that it is not one at which to eat and drink only, but one where verses are written, and where a man may try his skill of hand at the character. For such an ignoramus as I from the obscure confines of Cho to push my way in here to a seat among you and to a part in the feast is a very rash and impudent thing.”
Seeing how humble Yang was, and how apparently unsophisticated, they all felt for him an undisguised condescension, and said in reply: “Brother Yang, your suggestion that we have a trial of skill at the character is very good, but since you are the late comer we will let you off if you so desire. You may write or not just as you please. Have a drink with us and a pleasant time.” So they urged him, passing the glass and calling on the dancing-girls to sing.
Yang looked at the dancers assembled and saw that all twenty of them were persons of striking appearance. Among them was one specially noticeable, who sat in a lady-like and modest way, neither playing nor talking. Her face was very beautiful and her form was most graceful, such as few on earth could rival. She might have been likened to the merciful goddess Kwan-se-eum, who sits aloft in her silken picture. Yang felt his mind moved by her presence, and forgot all about the feasting and the drink. She also looked straight at him, and by her expression seemed to pass him a message of recognition. He also saw that there were many compositions in verse piled up before her, so he said to the gentlemen: “I presume that these compositions are by your excellencies; I would like permission to read them.” Before they could reply the dancer herself arose, brought them and placed them before him.
He looked them over, one by one. Among them were some fair compositions of an average grade, but nothing striking or of special excellence. He said to himself: “I used to hear that the gifted literati of Nakyang were masters at the pen, but seeing these I count that a false report.” He gave back the compositions to the fair lady, made a bow to the gentlemen and said: “A humble countryman like myself never had a chance to read the writings of the capital before. Now by good fortune I have had the opportunity and my heart has been made glad.”
The various guests had by this time become quite exhilarated. They laughed in reply: “Brother, you have thought only of the beauty of the composition; you do not know what beauty of reward goes with it.”
Yang made answer: “I have already had special proof of your kindness, and in the passing of the glass have been permitted to become an intimate and sworn friend. Why don’t you also tell me what this beauty of reward is of which you speak?”
They laughed again and said: “Why should we not? There is an old saying that the wisdom of Nakyang is very great, and that if in the Government examination our candidate does not come off the winner he surely will have second place. We all here are sharers in the matter of literary reputation, and so cannot act as our own judges. But yonder fair dancer’s family name is Kay Som-wol and her given name is Moonlight. She is not only the first singer and dancer of this East Capital, she is a master hand at the pen, and knows by intuition as the gods do. All the scholars of Nakyang consult her as to the probabilities of the examination. She decides and they pass or fail like the fittings of the tally. Never is there a mistake in her estimate. Thus have we each given over to her our compositions to have her point out their defects, to pronounce on that which specially meets her approval, and to sing it over for us with the harp. She is our judge, and we await her unerring verdict. Kay See’s name is the same as that of the famous cinnamon tree of the moon, and she will indicate for us the next successful candidate. Won’t you try your hand as well, and is not this a glorious opportunity?”
Master No said: “There is beyond this, too, a still more interesting fact, namely, that the one whose composition she selects and sings will have Kay See for his fair companion. We are all friends here and hopeful candidates. Brother Yang, you are a man as well as we, and appreciate the joys and delights of life. Will you not accept the invitation and be a competitor in this trial of skill?”
Yang replied: “I have not written for so long a time, I really do not know what I can do. Has not Kay See sung you the winner’s verses yet?”
Master Wang replied: “The fair lady has not once struck the harp or opened her cherry lips. Her pearly teeth have not parted, nor has a single note greeted our ears. We have evidently not written up to her demands, so her heart is unmoved and weighed down for shame of us.”
“Your humble servant,” said Yang, “is from the distant land of Cho and though I have written verses I am an outsider, and am afraid to venture on a contest with you honourable gentlemen.”
Wang, however, shouted out: “The Master Yang is prettier than a girl—why is it that he fails in the spirit of a gallant knight? The Sage says: ‘If it is a question of good to be done, step not aside even for your teacher,’ and again, ‘It is the duty of the Superior Man[13] to do his best.’ I doubt not that Master Yang is no hand at the pen. If he were, why should he be so modest concerning this small venture?”
Now although Yang had modestly desired to decline this unexpected invitation, when he beheld the fair dancer Kay See he was all awake to the occasion. There was no power now to restrain him, so he caught up a sheet of paper that lay on the matting, selected a pen and wrote three stanzas. His writing was like a boat on the sea scudding before the wind, or like a thirsty horse making straight for a stream of water. The various guests caught the spirit of the composition so strong and swift, and seeing how the characters crowded forth from his pen like flying magic, were all startled and turned pale.
Yang then threw down the pen, and said to the guests: “I ought to ask the opinion of you gentle-men first, but to-day as Kay See is judge and as the time allowed is passing, with your kind permission I’ll hand it directly to her.”
The verses read:
“The man from Cho moves west and enters Chin,
He sees the wine pavilion and boldly steps within,
Now who shall pluck the flower from the tree within the moon,
And claim the winner’s honour and the fairy’s magic tune?
The catkins of the willow they float o’er Chun-jin’s stream,
The gem-wrought shades of many ply close out the sun between;
Our ears awake to hear a song of special gift and grace,
Our eyes behold in silken scenes a gifted fairy’s face.
The flowers of spring are filled with awe and drop their heads for shame,
They sense her song, they feel her step, the fragrance of her name;
The passing shadows stay their course, unwilled to steal away,
The lighted halls of gladsomeness proclaim my winning day.”
For a moment Moonlight let her awakened vision rest on the composition, and then her clear voice broke forth into singing sweet and compelling. The cranes stepped forth into the city commons to cheer her, and the phoenixes made their responses. Flutes lost their charm, and the harp its store of sweet melody. The hearers were intoxicated by the music, and all faces turned pale. Out of contempt they had compelled Yang to write, but now when his composition had become the song that Moonlight sang, their joy gave place to envy, and they looked at each other speechless with dismay. To think of giving Moonlight over to this unknown stranger roused rebellious feelings. Their desire was to break the agreement, but such an act of dishonour was hard to suggest, so they sat gagged and dazed looking at each other.
Yang saw their ominous faces, and at once got up and made his farewell: “All unexpectedly I have met with so kindly a welcome from you gentlemen, and have boldly taken part in this happy contest. I have eaten and drunk of your hospitality, for which I thank you most heartily. Having still a long way to go I cannot spend more time with you as I would like, but must now take my departure. Let us meet again at the winner’s festival on the close of the Government examination[14],” so he quickly took his leave, none of the guests detaining him.
When he had passed outside of the pavilion and was about to mount his donkey, Moonlight came suddenly out and said to him: “On the south side of the road you will see a house enclosed by a white wall with cherry blossoms lining the way; that’s my home. Go there, please, and wait for me. I shall come at once.” He nodded and started off in the direction indicated.
Moonlight re-entered the pavilion and said to the guests: “You gentlemen have highly honoured me, and have permitted me to sing a song by which my destined one is made known. What is your wish in the matter?”
They could not hide their feelings of disgust, and said in reply: “Yang is an outsider and not one of ourselves; you are not called upon to concern yourself with him.” They talked and discussed, and said this and that, but came to no conclusion.
Moonlight, with determination written on her pretty face, replied: “I have no confidence in people who break faith. You have plenty of music here, please continue to enjoy yourselves. Kindly excuse me, I am feeling unwell, and so cannot stay until the end.” She arose and went slowly out. Because of the agreement that had been made, and also by reason of her quiet dignity, they dared not say a word.
In the meantime Yang had gone to his inn, packed up his baggage and started in the darkness for Moonlight’s home. She had already arrived, had put in order the entry hall, lighted the lamps and was waiting. He tied his donkey to a cherry tree and rapped at the double-panelled gate. At the sound she slipped on her light shoes and came out quickly. “You left before I did,” said she, “but I am here ahead of you—how does this happen?”
Yang replied: “The host awaits the guest, not the guest the host. I had no heart to be late, but ‘my horse is slow,’ as the old saying runs.”
They met with great delight as those destined for each other. She passed him the glass of welcome and bade him sing. His voice was sweet and such as to awaken and captivate the soul.
She said: “I am yours from to-day, and shall tell you my whole heart in the hope that you will condescend to take pity on me. I am originally from So-joo. My father was a secretary of that county, but unfortunately he fell ill and died away from home. Because we were poor, and his station far distant, he was buried without the required forms. Having lost his protecting arm, my step-mother sold me as a dancing-girl for one hundred yang. I accepted the disgrace, stifled my resentful soul, and did my best to be faithful, praying to God, who has had pity on me, so that to-day I have met my lord and can look again upon the light of sun and moon. Before the approaches of my home is the main roadway that leads to the market square. There is no cessation to the sound of traffic that passes day and night. None come or go without resting there. Thus for four or five years I have had a chance to study thousands of passers-by, and yet never has one passed by who is equal to my master. We have met and now my hopes are realised. Unworthy as I am, I would gladly become your serving-maid to prepare your food and do your bidding. What is your thought toward me, please?”
Yang comforted her with many kind words and expressions of appreciation: “I am drawn to you,” said he, “as truly and as deeply as you are drawn to me, but I am only a poor scholar with an old mother depending on me. I should like nothing better than to grow old with you as husband and wife, but I am not yet sure of my mother’s wishes, and I am afraid you would be unwilling to have her choose you as my secondary wife, with some unknown stranger to take first place. Even though you had no objection to it yourself, I am sure there is no one your superior or even your equal. This is my perplexity.”
Moonlight said in reply: “Why do you say so? There is no one in the world just now equal to thee, my master. I need not say to you that you are to win the first place in the coming examination, and in a little you are to carry the seal of a minister of state, and the insignia of a great general’s authority. All the world will desire to follow you; who am I that I should expect to have you to myself? Please, my lord, when you are married to some maiden of high degree and you receive your mother under your faithful care, kindly remember me. Assuredly I shall keep myself pure for thee only, and shall be at thy commands alone.”
“Some time ago,” said Yang, “I went through Wha-joo city and caught by chance a passing glimpse of one, Commissioner Chin’s daughter. Her beauty and her talents were not unlike those of yourself. Now, alas, she is gone, not to be seen again I fear. Where would you suggest then that I find your equal or superior?”
“The person you refer to,” said Moonlight, “is undoubtedly the daughter of Commissioner Chin, whose name is Cha-bong. When he was formerly magistrate of our county his daughter and I were bosom friends. She is a surpassing mystery of loveliness, like Princess Tak-moon[15]. But there is no use in thinking of her; let your thoughts go elsewhere, I pray you.”
Yang said: “It is an old understanding that not many special marvels of beauty are born into the world at one and the same time. Now we have the maiden Moonlight and Chin See, two who have known and seen each other. I am afraid that the powers of heaven and earth are exhausted and that no more such are living.”
Moonlight laughed, and said: “Your words are like those of the tadpole in the well. I’ll tell you who there are among us dancing girls of special beauty. There are said to be three, Sim Oh-kyon, the Swallow, who lives in Kang-nam; Chok Kyong-hong, the Wildgoose, who lives in Ha-pook; and Kay Som-wol, Moonlight of Nakyang. I am Moonlight, and though I have won a name out of all proportion to my merits, Swallow and Wildgoose are truly the greatest beauties living. Why do you say that there are no more such in the world?”
Yang answered: “My opinion is that those two are unfairly and unjustly given a place and name equal to yours.”
Moonlight replied: “Ok-kyon, Swallow, lives so far away from me that I have never met her, but all who have come from the south are unstinted in their praises. I am sure she has no unfair reputation. Wildgoose I know and love like a sister. I’ll tell you about her. She is the daughter of the Yang clan of Pa-joo, who lost her parents early in life and lived with her aunt. From her girlhood days a rumour went forth through all the north land of her beauty, so that thousands of golden yang were offered for her. Go-betweens crowded her gateway like a swarm of bees. Wildgoose spoke to her aunt about it, and had them driven away. Said they to the aunt: ‘Your pretty niece has driven us away and will consent to no one. What sort of person does she desire in order to be satisfied? Does she want to be wife of a minister, or of a provincial governor, or is she to be given to some noted literatus or writer of renown?’”
“Wildgoose replied for herself, saying: ‘If there be as in the days of the Chin Kingdom someone like Sa An-sok, I’ll follow him and be the companion of a minister of state; or if as in the days of the Three Kingdoms someone like Choo Kong-keun, I’ll follow him and be the wife of a noted governor; or if there be someone like Yee Tai-baik[16], doctor of the Hallim, great in letters, I’ll follow him; or if he be like Sa Ma-chang, who sang the phoenix song in the days of Han Moo-je[17] I’ll follow him. Where my heart goes I will go, but who can tell in advance where this shall be?’
“Then the various go-betweens laughed loudly and took their departure. Wildgoose said to herself: ‘How could an imprisoned girl from an obscure part of the country with no experience of the world ever be expected to select a noted lord for husband? But a dancer like me is one who shares the festal season with the rare and gifted, and talks to them face to face. She even opens the door to princes and nobles. She learns to distinguish the high-born from the mediocre, and becomes an expert in assaying human worth. She can sense the bamboo from the Tai, or jade ornaments from Namjon; how should she be anxious about whom to choose?’ So she yielded herself up as a dancing-girl in order that she might attach herself to one great and renowned, but in all these years she has found nothing but an empty reputation.
“Last year the noted literati from the twelve counties of Shantung north of the river held a great feast in the capital and had dancing and music. At this time Wildgoose sang the Yea-sang Kok (The Rainbow Robes of the Fairy). She was like the wild bird itself in grace of motion and matchless beauty. All the dancers of the day dropped their heads before her. When the feast was over she went away by herself to the top of Tong-jak Tower, walked back and forth under the light of the moon, thinking over the writings of the ancient sages, her heart full of loneliness and sorrow, sighing to herself over past events that had broken in upon her fragrant way. All who saw her revered her grace and gazed with wonder at her loveliness. When Wildgoose and I played together in the Sang-kok Monastery and told our hopes one to the other, she said to me: ‘If we two meet a master whom we like let’s recommend each other. As we serve the same husband we shall pass our happy days without faults or failings.’
“I agreed, and now that I have met with my destined lord I naturally think of Wildgoose, who is at present in the palace of the governor of Shantung. Alas, as the ancients said, there are many devils to interfere with what is sweet and good. The wives of the governor are surrounded with riches and honour, but this is not what Wildgoose wishes.” And Moonlight sighed and added: “Would that I could meet my fairest companion and tell her.”
Yang said in reply: “There are many gifted ones among the dancers, and yet why should a daughter of the gentry have to take a second place to them?”
Moonlight answered: “Among those I know there is no one who equals Chin See. How could I dare propose a name to my lord not her equal? Still I have frequently heard the people of the capital say that there is no one like Justice Cheung’s daughter. For beauty of face and nobility of heart she is regarded as first of all. I have not seen her myself, but there is no question that her name is well won. When my lord reaches the capital please think of this. Seek her out if possible, and learn if this be so.”
But the time had come to part, and Moonlight said in haste: “You must not stay longer. The various guests were fiercely angry with you and will be so still. There may be danger; go quickly, please. We shall meet and have many happy days together, why should I be sad?”
The master spoke his greetings: “Your words are like gold and jewels to me, and shall be written on my heart,” and in tears they parted.