Chapter 408: When Mom Follows the Shamans to the Hills (4)

At the mention of having picked a name, the Supreme Beggar let out a playful little “Oh!”

But despite his relaxed tone, he swallowed hard and stared into Qing’s eyes, clearly trying to hide the tension under a veil of humor.

“Hwiyeong. Yeom Hwiyeong.”

“Oh, that’s... a much better name than I expected? It’s not something common either. What does it mean, Mother?”

“Hwi for ‘shining,’ Yeong for ‘peaceful.’ I want you to be someone who brings ease to others even while shining.”

“Hwiyeong... Hwiyeong... Hwiyeong, huh...”

The Supreme Beggar—Yeom Hwiyeong—muttered the name to himself several times.

It sat on his tongue like unfamiliar food, awkward and a little stiff, like a child playing with a toy he’d never owned before.

“But is that how people usually name someone? Don’t they usually wish for them to become strong, noble, or exalted—someone difficult for others to treat carelessly?”

“Should I have gone with Oina or Sam-pal (Thirty-Eight) instead?”

One common naming method in the Central Plains involved taking the last digits of the parents’ ages. That way, they’d never forget how old their kid was.

“No, it’s just... It sounds like you’re still telling me to be a good person. Does that mean I have to be an even better son now?”

“Not a good person—a comfortable person. You think it’s hard to become someone difficult? Anyone who rises high becomes hard to approach. A top-tier master can just sit there looking stern and serious, and people’ll naturally keep their distance. They won’t speak freely, and they won’t get too close.”

In truth, it’s far more difficult to become someone who shines and yet still feels easy to be around.

“Comfortable”—what a beautiful word that is.

It encompasses the lightness of the body, the calm of a rested heart, even the feeling of warmth, ease, and preference. It means good, cozy, relaxed, easy. A word soaked in gentle emotions.

That’s why people are drawn to comfortable people—why they reach out to shake their hands, greet them with smiles, and welcome them openly.

Because they feel at ease. Because the person is easy.

“So, a comfortable person is someone who’s loved by everyone. I get the sense you haven’t had much of that in your life, so I gave you this name to finally help you receive some. Got it?”

Last night, lying in bed with Pohee wrapped around her, Qing felt such warmth. And really, isn’t a bed the most mystical place for brilliant thoughts to strike, right when you’re starting to drift off?

And as she lay there squirming in her sworn sister’s embrace, she’d suddenly thought, Wow. This sense of ease... it’s really something special.

“Hmm. Can’t say I relate at all. Telling me to be a ‘comfortable’ person—it sounds like you’re telling me to become a fool.”

“What, you don’t like the name?”

Yeom Hwiyeong smiled, clearly pleased.

“No, I love it. Regardless of the meaning, you took the time to choose good characters for your son. That’s what matters—the care behind it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life. Thank you, Mom.”

“Gck—! I told you not to call me that!”

Qing shuddered and started furiously rubbing her arms.

All the fine hairs on her body shot up like they were staging a full-scale uprising.

“I mean it. Even if the meaning didn’t really hit me, if you really thought about it for your son’s sake, then even Yeom Byeong-hal would’ve been fine.”

A vein popped on Qing’s forehead.

“I put effort into this, and you still have to taint it with that? I give you a gift, and your reaction is, ‘Well, I don’t like it, but since you tried your best, I guess I like it’?”

“It’s the thought that counts, Mother. I never got to show off for you as a kid—maybe I’ll start now. Think fifty years of missed affection can be made up for in the next fifty?”

“Who the hell showers their parent with affection for fifty years?”

“Then how many years is acceptable, Mother?”

“Dunno. Maybe twenty at most?”

“Perfect. So you’re saying twenty’s fine? Mother, just say the word. What is it now—Killing Moon Sect? I heard those guys dared to trouble you. Want me to go wipe them out?”

Qing immediately shook her head, serious.

“Don’t talk like that. I’m not stopping you from calling yourself my son, but I have zero intention of parading around with a Profound Realm child like I’m some kind of power broker. You’re over fifty. You should’ve already left the nest and been halfway down your own path by now.”

Yeom Hwiyeong’s smile deepened.

She knew she’d drawn a line—and he knew it too.

“I don’t plan to use you. Just go your own way. Just because we’re ‘parent and child’ doesn’t mean we have to stay glued together for a thousand years.”

“As expected. I love you, Mother.”

Qing shook her head.

“Did you not hear me? I said, go your own way. Shoo. Pohee! Get me some salt. Something’s definitely wrong with the energy here. I need to sprinkle it all over and turn this place into a salt field.”

“Huh? How much should I bring? Like two hundred pounds? How many wagons would that take? If one gama is ten mal and three mal is forty pounds, then to get a hundred—uh, three, six, forty, um...”

Pohee furiously worked her fingers, counting, subtracting, and adding—then finally grinned.

“Forget it. Should I just buy two gama worth?”

“Just a single bowl will do. I only need enough to drive one person away.”

But Pohee shook her head.

“Qing, you can’t do that. That’d really hurt your nephew’s feelings.”

“See? Auntie’s the only one who really thinks about me. Auntie, you’re the best.”

Qing shook her head again.

She just wished they’d all disappear.

And she meant that with her whole heart.

****

Thanks to her unexpected “son’s” performance, public opinion in Gwangju had flipped.

Now was the time to bring people in and start properly restoring the manor.

Of course, restoring the Jin household wouldn’t be on her dime—she needed permission from the one footing the bill.

So Qing began posting flyers for labor and looking to hire a head carpenter, then went to find Jin Jagang.

As luck would have it, Jin Jagang was standing in front of the estate, flailing his arms around in a Tai Chi form that had... definitely seen better days.

He looked up and saw Qing—and was immediately flustered.

Her group had grown again. That young man from before was one thing, but seeing Qing casually carried by a veiled woman despite having two perfectly working legs was just...

And by the way it looked, it wasn’t awkward at all. She seemed very used to it.

“Lady Tianhua Sword? Are you... unwell?”

“Oh—Pohee, put me down. You have to put me down in front of an elder, so I can give a proper greeting. This is my sworn sister, Pohee. She just likes carrying me. It’s not that I want it—it’s just how she insists. Right?”

“Mhm. Hello. My little sister relies on me quite a bit.”

The two women bowed politely.

“And this young man...?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about him.”

Pohee was here to tend to Qing. Yeom Hwiyeong had nothing better to do and just decided to tag along, saying he wanted to watch what “Mother” was up to.

Yeom Hwiyeong hesitated for a moment, then bowed respectfully.

“Greetings. I’m Yeom Hwiyeong, a nameless traveler. I heard my mother was in Gwangju, and I came, even at the risk of being rude.”

“Did you say... mother?”

“Yes, sir. Lady Tianhua Sword here is my mother.”

“...? Lady Tianhua Sword? With a son that grown? Uh, ah... Perhaps there are... special circumstances we’re unaware of. Ahem. What a splendid son you have.”

Though clearly stunned, Jin Jagang returned the courtesy with a gentleman’s poise. He truly was a man of character.

“He’s not an adopted son—he’s a foster son.”

“Ah. A foster son. I see.”

A foster son, in other words, a daja—one not taken in from blood ties, but formally registered as part of the family.

Jin Jagang looked incredibly curious, but didn’t pry. That was the mark of his refinement.

But Yeom Hwiyeong wasn’t done talking.

“In truth, I was a vicious, sinful man in my youth. But my mother scolded me, turned me around, and I was reborn as a new person. That’s why I earnestly begged to serve her as my foster parent.”

“Ah... I see. A... heartwarming tale, is it?”

Jin Jagang was clearly confused.

If Qing had been forty or so, the story of a redeemed villain {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} moved by her guidance could’ve been a fine moral fable.

But this?

A man clearly in his mid-to-late twenties, calling a twenty-one-year-old girl his foster mother?

Now it just sounded like some weird gossip column headline.

And soon, the confusion spread throughout the Jin household.

“Miss Seo Mun! When will the third round of the contest—oh? You have companions. And this gentleman is...? Huh? Your son? Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you!”

“Tianhua-unnie! Chang-ah scribbled on a brick again—wait, wait. Who’s this oppa? Huh? Son...? Ehehe, I’m Jin Yuwol~”

“Wow, Qing-ah, who is he? Bringing such a handsome young man along with you. Could he be... oh! So that’s how it is. A foster son, huh? And what a dashing one, too! So polite!”

The off-duty members of the Jin household greeted Qing cheerfully.

What really grated on her was that this brat, who acted all smug and casual toward his so-called “mother,” suddenly turned into the most courteous, well-mannered gentleman in front of others. The nerve.

And finally—salvation descended in the form of a single beam of reason.

“Miss Seo Mun? What on earth is going on here? No, seriously, how is this even possible? A foster son? For a young woman who just crossed into her twenties? Have you lost your mind too?”

“Miss Jin!”

Qing immediately grabbed Jin Seol’s hand.

Yes! This! This is what a sane person sounds like!

But Jin Seol was cold.

“You too, Miss Seo Mun. I know you’re kindhearted, but how could you just go and accept him like that?”

“Exactly! I’ve been saying that!”

Qing didn’t care. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. Finally, someone normal.

She wanted to share the moment longer, but the members of the Jin household were all busy people, short on staff. The warm moment was gone as quickly as it came—they headed off to make site rounds for the day.

Qing had her own responsibilities too. She was no longer some wandering errand-runner scrounging around Gwangju’s construction sites.

Now, she had to officially commission a full project.

So she donned her “Earthwork Immortal Lady” garb and headed to the Carpenter’s Quarter. Naturally, everyone recognized her immediately.

“Oh! Divine Lady! So you finally accepted him, huh? Well, that’s all karma, isn’t it?”

“Where’s the job today—ah, you’re commissioning a job now? Is the Divine Lady taking on the foreman role herself? Oh, you’re not? Then shall we pass it to Master Kang or Master Yang? Oho, but in the end, it turned out like this, huh?”

Even that precocious little brat from yesterday somehow caught wind of the scene and came running up, latching onto her arm and clinging affectionately.

“Ah, Mother~!”

“How do you keep popping up like this, you little gremlin? You can’t just start chasing men around at your age!”

“Heehee. Why not just consider taking in a daughter while you’re at it?”

“I’m not interested in anyone’s romantic business, so you two figure that out yourselves.”

“Hey. I already told you—you're not my type, brat. What do you expect me to do with a kid at my age?”

“I’m not a kid! I’m fifteen this year. That’s an adult, you know!”

“Brat, I’m fifty. I’ve lived three times as long as you. That qualifies you as a kid.”

“......? Liar. I’m not falling for that.”

Word of yesterday’s melodrama had already spread across the city. Everyone who saw Yeom Hwiyeong trailing behind Qing with a smile assumed it had all ended well.

“Divine Lady, would I be fit to serve as foreman? I mean, sure, I’m handy with Guangdong construction, but wouldn’t people talk if I pushed past you and took the lead? Wait, does this mean your foster son’s gonna be a carpenter now? Or is he inheriting the shrine?”

Qing was no longer some apprentice carpenter.

When she first called herself the Earthwork Immortal Lady, it was a bluff—but now? Not a single master carpenter in Gwangju doubted her skills.

She was more than qualified to lead a full-scale construction project.

So now the conversation naturally shifted to foreman-level talk—how many skilled workers would be needed, how to schedule the labor, what materials were on hand and what had to be sourced, and how to allocate everything efficiently.

Yeom Hwiyeong sat on a stump at the edge of the Carpenter’s Quarter, resting his chin on his knee as he watched her.

The corners of his mouth curled into a gentle smile.

The vegetable seller’s daughter followed his gaze to Qing, then looked back at him. She repeated this three or four times—then her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Oppa...? Wait—no way. Right?”

“You little punk. So Qing wasn’t wrong to call you precocious. You’re already this lewd at your age? Wow. What a yellow-bellied sprout you are.”

“N-No! I-I didn’t mean it like that...”

Yeom Hwiyeong snickered and tousled her hair mercilessly.

If Seo Mun Surin had seen that, she’d have screamed bloody murder—even for a child, no one touches a girl’s hair like that. Especially not a martial artist.

He’d only been trailing Qing for half a day, and yet people greeted him like he was a born-and-raised local of Gwangju.

Despite being a legendary master from the Orthodox factions, someone whose presence alone should inspire dread among common folk, no one found him difficult to approach.

“So that’s what she meant by a comfortable person... Is he just a pushover? Still, it doesn’t look half bad.”

“Hmph. And I even did my hair nicely today... Wait—what did you just say, Oppa?”

“None of your business, you precocious little brat.”

“Tch! Are you gonna keep this up?”

“I am gonna keep this up. And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Yeom Hwiyeong continued teasing her—then suddenly seemed to remember something.

“Hey. Speaking of which, those loan shark bastards—are they still kicking around? They’re not bothering you anymore, right?”