Camellia 54

From that day on, Seolyeong spent his daily life with the boy.

Whenever he thought of Seonwol-do, which had been taken from him by that deputy of Seongseodang, he would go looking for the boy.

‘When am I going to get my mutt back…’

Was it because he had no one else to rely on that he kept clinging to the child? Had he latched onto an easy target because he had nowhere else to place his feelings? If that were the case, then this couldn’t be a proper master-disciple relationship.

Seolyeong tried to assess his own state of mind objectively. Why he pestered Si Pungjae every single day to bring Yujae to him. But no matter how much he nagged, he was only allowed to see the boy once every three days.

“Here. These are mooncakes I didn’t get to make for you last time.”

Seolyeong, sitting across from Yujae at a tea table, offered a porcelain dish filled with poorly shaped pastries. It was the same mooncake the boy had once said he wanted to try but never got the chance to before he was taken. Seolyeong, blaming himself for leaving the boy behind, split a cake in half.

“If it’s not enough, let me know. I prepared plenty of dough and filling. I can go bake more right away.”

The Supreme One, who had taken Yangcheonju upon hearing that the bride was still looking for his disciple, remained baffled by his own actions. Right after drinking the liquor, he’d buried himself in the snow to cool his burning danjeon, and now he sat in the tearoom, still unsure of why he’d come. Si Pungjae, too, couldn’t begin to understand how his lord had become so tolerant of the Mad Bride.

“Do you not want mooncakes anymore?”

Seolyeong looked gloomily at the boy, who hadn’t touched the food.

Yujae cast a glance at Si Pungjae, who stood like a folding screen in the corner of the room. Si Pungjae took a step forward and offered an excuse on his master’s behalf.

“He had a full meal before coming here, so it’s likely he’s not interested in snacks.”

“Are you Yujae or Pungjae? Yujae has a mouth of his own, so why are you answering like you’re him?”

Seolyeong clicked his tongue and scolded Yujae too.

“You little rascal. You can’t go ordering around someone older than you. Even if you don’t want to eat, this master won’t be angry. So don’t go glaring daggers at Pungjae. He’s been working hard for our sake.”

“What kind of work?”

The boy finally spoke. Pleased to hear his voice, Seolyeong smiled and replied.

“He arranged this opportunity for us to bond as master and disciple. Isn’t that something to be grateful for? He brings you to me, takes you back to your family… there’s no one more helpful. Oh, right. I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask.”

Yujae picked up the split mooncake Seolyeong had offered, then casually tossed it toward Si Pungjae. One wouldn’t throw food to a stray dog like that, yet Si Pungjae dropped to his knees in reverence. He picked up the mooncake with trembling hands and bowed his head deeply.

Seeing this dignified man act like a fool dampened the mood in the tearoom.

“…Looks like Pungjae really likes mooncakes,” Seolyeong muttered in disbelief. “If I’d known, I would’ve brought a separate plate just for him.”

Si Pungjae even tucked the crumpled mooncake into his robes. To him, it was a gift from his lord and had to be cherished. But to Seolyeong, the whole scene was just bizarre. He didn’t want to focus on it any longer, he quickly changed the subject and slipped in the question he’d wanted to ask.

“Where are your parents? I’ve been wondering for a while now. You don’t seem to be in good health, and I’d like to know if your parents are aware of it.”

Si Pungjae, who had been silently lamenting his missed chance to sing Cheonsin’s praise, suddenly stiffened. No matter how tolerant his master was, this kind of rudeness couldn’t be ignored.

He glared at Seolyeong, as if ready to draw his sword and cut out the man’s impudent tongue.

Seolyeong felt the intensity of that gaze, he tapped the mooncake plate with a finger.

“If you want one, just eat. Don’t stare at me like some stray starving dog.”

He no longer treated Si Pungjae with the same friendliness as before. The man’s cold voice from that confrontation at the entrance of Gwanju Hall still echoed in his mind, how he had declared that no one but the Supreme One could correct him.

Since he couldn’t force someone who clearly hated him to act like his disciple, Seolyeong had started keeping his distance. In truth, he’d always been somewhat aloof toward anyone he didn’t teach, even in the Murong clan.

Seeing that Si Pungjae’s hostile stare didn’t waver, Seolyeong muttered,

“…Even the mutt I raised was friendlier than you.”

He suddenly fell silent and let out a heavy sigh.

Thinking of Seonwol-do, stolen by the deputy, brought made him feel guilty again. He had said he’d go retrieve it soon, but now he couldn’t even leave for a nearby mountain, let alone Shingang. He worried that Seonwol-do, being emotional, might think it had been abandoned and fall into despair.

If only my danjeon were intact… No, that’s a useless thought.

Seolyeong placed a hand over his lower abdomen and shook away the distractions.

They say even if the sky falls, there’s always a way out.

For now, he focused on caring for his disciple.

Since his body was in no condition to pass down martial arts, he wanted to teach this unruly child the kinds of lessons a proper adult could. He was fond of Yujae, yes, but he was also well aware the boy had a bad temper and lacked warmth. Alright. First, I’ll teach him how to greet adults properly.

Seolyeong laid out his plan and asked again,

“Tell me where your mother and father are. There’s much I want to ask them.”

And thus began the battle of shield versus spear.

Seolyeong persisted with his questions about the boy’s family, while Yujae ignored them as if he were deaf.

“You’re here on Yeonhu, so your parents must be too, right? But when I looked around the palace on my first day, I didn’t see a single private home, just twenty-four pavilions. Unless my husband is so generous that he’s offered them up as residences for the sect members, which doesn’t seem likely… so where does your family live?”

Of the twenty-four pavilions, eight were used by the pavilion lords during major sect events. Another eight were for their attendants and guards, collectively known as the Outer Palace.

The remaining eight were designated for medical halls, sleeping quarters, and so on. One of them, Yeonhwa Hall, had been assigned to Seolyeong. Since each pavilion came with additional buildings and large plots of land, they essentially functioned as private estates.

The strained master-disciple pair walked together across the crisp snow. Si Pungjae followed at a fixed distance behind.

Today again, the strong mountain wind blew through Seolyeong’s hair. Bracing against the cold that bit through his entire body, he asked softly,

“Yujae. Shall we end our walk here and go back?”

He’d stepped outside to get some fresh air, but it hadn’t been a wise decision. Seolyeong worried the harsh wind might be bad for the boy’s health and stamped his feet nervously.

But Yujae, bundled up with even a winter hat, wasn’t cold, just a little stuffy. And holding the bride’s hand so tightly had allowed a fair amount of yang Qi to flow into him. When Tang Yujae instinctively interlocked their fingers, Seolyeong grinned.

“Master’s hand is nice and warm, isn’t it? Looks good, feels good, I’d want to hold it too if I were you.”

Yujae replied while letting Seolyeong’s words go in one ear and out the other.

“It’s weird, how warm it is all the time.”

“Weird? Why?”

“It feels like it was made for me.”

A puff of white breath escaped the boy’s mouth.

Seolyeong turned his gaze away for a moment, then looked back and said,

“…Then let’s say it was made for you.”

The reason he was born into this world. Once, Seolyeong had struggled to find the answer to that question. But no matter how he searched, he found no conclusion, and in the end, he had to give up, hollow and unsatisfied.

Seolyeong cleared his throat, he heard Yujae murmur,

“I like it.”

“Yes? How much?”

Taking it as a compliment about his warmth, Seolyeong grinned broadly. Yujae, however, liked the fact that Seolyeong still retained his yang Qi even with a ruined danjeon. As he thought about choosing a day to shatter it again, he gently stroked the man’s lovely hand.