Chapter 438: Journey to Taewon (9)

The Hanlin Academy was not exactly a forbidden zone for women.

After all, there were plenty of maidservants working there, and several older women in charge of the kitchens as well.

And if you asked whether there were no female scholars?

That wasn’t the case either.

They sometimes held irregular literary gatherings for women, and former court ladies from the imperial palace, women who had once held official posts, would gather aspiring young women who wished to study and open classes for them.

But to demand that a seat be formally set aside for a woman in the Grand Academy’s lectures of the Hanlin Academy?

That was a different matter altogether.

“Senior Instructor, I understand your affection for your disciple, but this is without precedent. Certainly, if it were only a matter of letting her listen quietly from the corner of the lecture hall while she stayed here, that would fall within your discretion.”

The Grand Academician, the highest elder of the Hanlin Academy, expressed his unease.

Listening quietly, as he put it, meant precisely that—sitting silently in some corner, only with ears open.

But the Grand Academy’s lectures were not conducted that way.

Everyone brought forth their own thesis, voiced their interpretation, then the others would add their interpretations in turn, and through mutual discourse they gradually expanded the words of the sages and the concepts of Confucianism.

It was both instruction for the younger (not in age, but in learning) scholars and, at the same time, an academic endeavor that broadened the reach of Confucian teaching.

And now he was being asked to admit someone who was not even of the Hanlin Academy?

Not even a man?

Not even a giant of learning, but rather some muddled novice who, they said, had barely begun, someone whose so-called “learning” was limited to skimming a few Daoist and Buddhist texts?

By Hanlin standards, skimming a handful of Daoist and Buddhist scriptures and perhaps finishing the Elementary Learning was equivalent to the intellect of a six-to-ten-year-old child.

To Qing, this would sound unfair.

She could argue, Haven’t I read plenty of Buddhist and Daoist texts? Was that not study but just asswork?

But this was the Hanlin Academy.

Put in martial terms, the logic was clearer.

Imagine a gathering of masters above the Absolute tier, sitting together to exchange the highest principles of martial theory beyond Sword Qi.

And then a third-rate martial artist appeared.

No, worse—not even a martial artist but some famous scholar of the Confucian world barging in, saying, I too have learned martial arts! What? My realm is too low? Then what I learned is not martial arts but literature?

Of course the Hanlin scholars would be offended if Qing tried to butt in.

So what if she’s the youngest prodigy of the orthodox sects, the famed Divine Dragon?

That was the martial world.

This was the Confucian world.

And who was Cheon Yuhak?

The Senior Instructor of the Hanlin Academy, unrivaled in lectures, a giant whose single word of teaching made the scholars of the world brighten their eyes—a great Confucian of his age.

And this giant suddenly brought in a martial artist as his beloved disciple?

Imagine the number one martial master under heaven suddenly bringing along some third-rate scholar who had only barely learned a few sword swings, claiming, This is the disciple I cherish most.

How would the martial world feel about that?

Cheon Yuhak opened his mouth again.

“Elder, hear me out.”

For reference, “Elder” here was honorific, not derisive.

“A man’s heart cannot be perfectly impartial, so of course my affection leans more toward my beloved disciple—that is only human nature, is it not? But cherishing a beloved disciple more, and exploiting my other disciples for her sake, are different matters. I am not so wretched a man.”

In other words, though he might favor her, he would never use other disciples as stepping-stones.

The Grand Academician nodded at that.

“Do I not spend half the year wandering the world, observing how things are? I assure you, if Qing takes part in the lectures, all will profit, great accomplishments will be made, and not once will it bring harm.”

The Grand Academician arched a brow.

“How could that be? It is natural for men to be drawn to women. Scholars are no less men, and if a woman joins a Confucian debate, their desires will inevitably be pulled toward her. Human desire is finite—if one part of the mind is thus occupied, another will be neglected. I fear the result will be a general slackening of study.”

“It may seem that way. But trust me—watch just once.”

“Ahem. It is unprecedented, that is the trouble. You too know well what precedent means, Senior Instructor?”

For once an example is set and recorded in history, the rest will easily follow and use it as justification.

“And besides, is she not said to be first among the Six Beauties of the Martial World? A girl famous for her looks. I truly cannot fathom what you are thinking, Senior Instructor.”

“Then let it be only a week. One week. Watch for yourself, Elder. If in that time she hinders my lecture in the least, I will withdraw her without a word.”

“Hm. If you put it that way...”

The Grand Academician made a face of distaste, as if he’d just been forced to swallow poison, but nodded nonetheless.

****

Thus, Qing ate a hearty breakfast and stood on the platform of the Grand Academy, facing the scholars.

Even with her superhuman digestion, she felt as though the food were stuck halfway down.

Somehow, she had the sense their gazes were not altogether kind.

“All right, all right, quiet down. This is Seo Mun Qing, my beloved disciple. Unexpected as it is, she will be studying with us during this summer’s lectures. Naturally, you ought to receive her greeting.”

Instead, a low uproar spread through the hall.

“Elder? Beloved disciple?”

“Seo Mun Qing—surely not that Seo Mun Qing? The young master said to be the foremost disciple of the Greatest Lady of the Martial World?”

“Ah, the Three-Headed Household! No wonder, I thought I’d heard that name somewhere.”

Qing’s face twisted.

That damned “three-heads” nickname never left her alone.

In any case, the lecture hall erupted into murmurs, a hundred conversations overlapping at once.

Qing glanced back at Cheon Yuhak.

Is this really all right? This doesn’t feel like it’s being smoothed over at all.

But Cheon Yuhak only curled his lips faintly and said:

“Go on. Offer your greeting to your seniors. What, do you intend to spend the coming year without even showing your face to those who will study with you? A person’s first impression lasts for life. Will you stay veiled and remain some faceless woman?”

Hm. I’m not sure this is right. But he must have his reasons, so if he tells me to do it...

Qing slowly pulled down her face veil.

Time stopped.

The Grand Academy fell utterly silent, as though the world had been put on pause.

At that moment, the ruinously beautiful face, the one universally hailed as the number one beauty under heaven (except by a small minority with eccentric tastes), was revealed without obstruction.

“Greetings. I am Seo Mun Qing of the martial world, paying my respects to the scholars of the Confucian world. Though my learning is shallow and I know little, I have heard it said that what is shameful is not ignorance but refusing to seek knowledge. I therefore ask humbly for your guidance and instruction.”

“Oh, the story of the Pearl of Confucius.”

Qing’s face went blank.

Anyone could see from her expression that she hadn’t the faintest idea what that meant.

Pearl of Confucius? What’s that? Why does it sound so cool? Is it some kind of ultimate technique?

“Now then, is there a fine senior among you who will explain the Pearl of Confucius for our youngest junior?”

After a moment’s hesitation, hands shot up all over.

“Good. Scholar Sam, you were the quickest. Go on, enlighten us.”

“Yes. When Confucius arrived in Jin, an anonymous admirer of the scholar’s Way presented him with a precious pearl.”

A pearl, of course, was not worth much until strung—pearls had to be threaded to be hung or worn as ornament.

But when Confucius tried to thread it, he found that some rascal had bored the hole all twisted and crooked, so the string would not pass through.

After much frustrated effort, he finally cast it aside, fuming—then realized, Isn’t threading pearls women’s work? Rather than strain alone, why not ask a woman?

And so he did, and thanks to her, the pearl was beautifully strung.

The lesson was that he did not scorn her as some lowly housewife, but humbly asked, and thereby succeeded.

Thus, to ask because one does not know is what a true gentleman ought to do; it is not shameful.

Moreover, since each person is skilled in different things, one must never look down on another, but recognize that wisdom comes in many forms.

Such was also the point Cheon Yuhak was pressing upon the scholars of the Hanlin Academy.

At that moment, Qing broke into a wide smile.

Those who knew her would think she must have eaten something wrong to be acting so coy.

“Wow, how knowledgeable you are. As expected of a learned man—you explained it so clearly. Thank you.”

“Ahem, it—it is nothing, nothing at all. There is none here who does not know that story...”

“Indeed. This Heavenly Flower Sword, though of the martial world, admired my scholarly renown and came to me day after day—thirty days in a month, more than ten times each day—beseeching the words of the sages. Even Yu Gong went three times to seek the wisdom of Zhuge Liang, yet she came to her knees more than ten times a day. I was moved and accepted her as my disciple.”

They had already rehearsed this story.

Even so, it seemed too far-fetched to believe.

But—

“Ohhh.”

They believed it.

Qing struggled to keep her expression composed, then quickly pulled the veil back over her face, feigning shy embarrassment.

A collective sigh of disappointment rose from the hall.

****

And so, a peculiar junior entered the Grand Academy lectures.

One day passed, then two, then three.

“Elder. What say you now? Still feel like driving my disciple out?”

“Hah! I am dumbfounded. To think they would throw themselves into study, all to impress a woman?”

The Grand Academician had come to terms.

Cheon Yuhak had gambled on Qing’s beauty.

Let her appear once unveiled, then have her say she liked clever men, and those simple fools would burn with zeal for learning.

Thus, the ones presenting their theses tried their utmost to explain clearly, and those adding comments strained to sound ever more impressive.

And in the Confucian world, to appear impressive meant writing persuasive, elegant interpretations that helped broaden the discourse.

The result was that every lecture became a battlefield of fierce debate.

So Cheon Yuhak was satisfied.

The Grand Academician was satisfied.

And in the end, the scholars who gained the benefit of such heightened discourse were satisfied as well.

The only one suffering was Qing.

“This is driving me insane.”

“Cheer up.”

“You traitor.”

Jin Jangmyeong had already avoided the lectures entirely, instead attending classes at the Hangsang Martial Hall.

The Hangsang Martial Hall belonged to the secular branch of the Hangsang Sect, a venerable Daoist sect, so she could come and go freely without trouble.

By evening she would return serenely, tending to her wooden practice sword.

Watching her, Qing felt the urge to go spar as well.

Why is it that we came together, but only I’m stuck studying?

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing my thesis...”

But Qing had no ability to present anything before that hall of brilliant Confucians.

Yet how could she defy Cheon Yuhak’s command?

She had half-hoped he might help her along.

But Cheon Yuhak was busy.

He was so absorbed in deciphering the Treasure Map that Qing wondered if he even slept at all.

How did one even interpret that map?

A few wedges here, some crooked lines there, a scattering of numbers—

Then, shown to fire, a few more lines would appear; dipped in water, more numbers revealed.

When Qing looked, it barely seemed a map at all.

Yet ever since she arrived, apart from meals, Cheon Yuhak had locked himself away with it.

Her Master was wholly absorbed in the Treasure Map.

Jangmyeong wandered through Taewon’s orthodox halls sparring until dusk before drifting home.

Qing sighed deeply and bent her head over her book.