[CYM] 7 – Love Letter

Could it be a thief? It seemed unlikely that the security at the great house was so lax, but perhaps a bold thief, drawn by the grand tiled roofs, had snuck in to steal something.

Holding onto the fan, she stealthily crossed the yard to investigate. Contrary to her expectations, there was only a pink cloth bundle lying where the noise had originated.

The end of the bundle fluttered in the wind as if someone had thrown it over the fence and left in a hurry. With a sense of suspicion, she prodded at the bundle with her fan before a sudden thought struck her, prompting her to untie the knot.

Inside, there was a treasure trove of snacks: chewy white rice cakes, sweet rice wrapped in magnolia leaves, and even rice cakes made with lotus flowers. And there was more...

[You said you were going to stop by the drapery store yesterday, why didn’t you come? The child was so anxious they were beside themselves, Beodeul!]

The love letter, clearly meant for someone else, was an unexpected addition. It could have been from Surin, the farmer’s daughter, perhaps from Ara, the daughter of the market vendor, or maybe even from Nanhee, the refined lady from the house below. Or was it from Yunhu, who would run away whenever their eyes met?

Pushing the thought of those possible blushing faces out of her mind, she tucked the box of rice cakes under her arm. The cakes were of fine quality, seemingly made from premium ingredients, certainly appearing more valuable than anything she had ever given to the young master.

“Come, this is it for today.”

“I want you to try these. They were given to me by someone who cherishes me,” she said with feigned nonchalance, presenting the vibrant array of rice cakes like a blooming lotus through the door slit.

“Aren’t you tired of this yet?”

The young master scoffed with a tone devoid of any enthusiasm.

She etched patience into her heart. As he had said, the medicinal remedies had been useless for years, and she had grown accustomed to their inefficiency. But separate from that, she, who had to sit and wait in the warm daecheong while he finished his medicine, what wrong had she committed?

Patience would wear thin on anyone repeating the same task for a year, even the most saintly of men.

“It’s useless, take it away.”

Ignoring his cold sarcasm, she insisted firmly, “Do you know how many interesting sights and delicious foods there are in this world? It’s pitiful that the young master is unaware of them.”

“So, you want me to hurry up and take my medicine and recover, is that it?”

“This is a special dish made with precious lotus flowers, meat, vegetables, and sesame seeds, fried together. Only Aran’s family can make it. It’s a delicacy not found just anywhere. I’ve brought it especially for you, young master. I expect your appreciation in return, even if it’s just an empty medicine bowl.”

“Ah?”

The corners of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. His gaze was like that of one looking at a pitiable creature. Her enthusiasm too was doused by his response.

“You’re trying too hard.”

Thump.

She put down the medicine bowl and the box of rice cakes with more force than the day before. It was a bolder move. Through the gap, she could see the young master’s unfocused gaze, but then he half-smiled and looked pensively across at her.

Just as her extended hand began to lose courage, a white hand slipped through the paper doors and pulled the medicine bowl towards him, leaving the rice cakes untouched. Seeing his bony, gaunt hand made her feel regretful, as if her words had been inappropriate.

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring some fruit. Dipping it in melted sugar* and letting it set is the latest trend.”

*Tanghulu – candied fruits.

“Do as you please.”

She tensed, half-expecting him to throw it all back at her. But for some reason, he complied quietly. She sat on the porch like a pillar, listening to him take his medicine until dusk, then she headed home.

Was it her own weakness, or was the young master’s behaviour unusual? Anger would simmer within her, but as soon as the conversation stopped and a heavy silence settled, she would begin to wonder if she had been too harsh.

“Such an ungrateful young master,” she thought. People should not be so soft-hearted.

Despite appearing tough from years of hardship while fleeing with her mother, her heart was in fact as soft as freshly made tofu. The repeated self-promise to take care of the young master, whom she served, spoke volumes.