Chapter 177

Streams of water—whether tears or rain, I couldn’t tell—ran down Madam Ma’s cheeks.

Her hands were full of half-burned joss paper. The sight of money meant for the dead to carry into the afterlife made my throat tighten.

Ah... So the death anniversary Songhwa mentioned...

I couldn’t bring myself to reach out.

I stood there biting my lip, unable to approach her yet unable to retreat into my room either.

Seeing me at a loss, Madam Ma rubbed at her eyes with a wrinkled hand and snapped gruffly,

“What’s so worth watching about an old woman crying? Why are you standing there staring?”

“You’ll catch a cold, Madam.”

“What does an old woman already waiting for death have to fear from a little cold?”

Still grumbling, she worked her mouth as though trying to compose herself, then crumpled the damp joss paper in her fist.

“When is this damned rain going to stop? The paper won’t even burn.”

Her eyes were red as she cursed.

I opened the door and went over, wrapping my hands around hers.

Her skin was cold as ice.

“You used to avoid an old woman’s hands as if they were venomous. What’s gotten into you, grabbing them so readily now?”

“Your hands are freezing, Madam. Come inside with me and warm up.”

I gently tugged her toward the room. She followed as though merely humoring me.

After seating Madam Ma in front of the brazier, I hurriedly coaxed the buried embers back to life and set a kettle over them.

I brought out a towel and draped it over her soaked body, wringing what water I could from her clothes.

All the while, Madam Ma stared blankly out the window.

Her eyes were hollow.

“Madam, you’re far too cold. You should change your clothes...”

“That’s enough.”

When I cautiously pressed the issue, worried by how little her body had warmed, she scrubbed both hands over her face and scolded me instead.

“You’re soaked through yourself, and you’re fussing over me? You act like some wildcat that can’t stand being touched, yet you’ve got such a soft heart.”

Still grumbling, Madam Ma pulled me {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} closer and gathered her inner force.

In an instant, she dried the remaining moisture from both our clothes.

She sighed and looked out the window again.

The half-burned joss paper was still clutched in her hand.

I quietly put the towels away, then brought over a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

The water began to boil, filling the room with steam.

As Madam Ma watched me add jujubes and honey to the boiling water and cover the pot, she finally set the joss paper down on the table.

“When I look at you, young lady... I think of my son.”

“Your son?”

“I always hoped he’d bring home a pretty wife like you and live a sweet little life together.”

Madam Ma gave a bitter smile.

“But the heartless brat never gave a thought to his mother and became a Daoist instead. There went any hope I had of seeing grandchildren.”

Rather than answer, I poured the steaming jujube tea and held it out to her.

Madam Ma accepted the cup and stared silently into it.

I sat beside her and waited without speaking for her to drink.

After emptying the cup, she ran her fingers over the lingering warmth before beginning to reminisce.

“He was a son I had after I’d nearly given up hope.”

“I see.”

“At first, I couldn’t tell whether I was dreaming or awake. I’d already resigned myself to never having children, so how could I believe I’d conceived after forty? I carried him for ten months, suffered through giving birth, and treasured him more than anything... Then, once he got a little older, he told me he wanted to become a martial artist.”

“...”

“He must’ve gotten that from me. My husband never knew how to fight a day in his life. I was something of a terror when I was young, though. Beat up this fool and that one until I was nearly forty, then finally met a gentle man and settled down.”

Madam Ma chuckled and wiped at the corners of her eyes.

“Anyway, I sent the boy to the local martial school. I figured he’d try it for a while, decide it was too hard, and quit. But apparently he had a gift for the sword, because some Daoists eventually came looking for him. Turned out the school was affiliated with Wudang. They said they wanted to take him in as a disciple of the main sect, or something like that.”

“Didn’t you want to keep him home?”

“Of course I did. I knew exactly what kind of place the martial world was. How could I be happy about my precious son stepping into that mire? But what could I do just because I hated the thought of it? A mother can’t stand in the way of her child’s future. Becoming a disciple of one of the great orthodox sects—what kind of opportunity is that? You couldn’t buy it even by pouring out mountains of gold and silver.”

She laughed heartily, but her eyes slowly filled with tears.

“I could bear not seeing his face. I could bear exchanging nothing but letters. When I heard he had formally received his Daoist name, it hurt, but I accepted it. As long as he was alive, I could still see him someday. I comforted myself by thinking that once he had more freedom to come and go, he might visit his mother now and then. But that boy... That boy...”

Her lips trembled, unable to continue.

Madam Ma covered her face with both hands.

I slowly rubbed her back.

“He died with his sword... clenched tight in his hand. As though his mother never even crossed his mind, he died a disciple of Wudang to the very end. Heartless boy. That heartless, heartless boy...”

Her thin, trembling voice soon broke into anguished sobs.

I couldn’t even think of words to comfort her.

How could I possibly claim to understand the heart of a mother who had buried her own child?

All I could do was stay quietly beside her.

After crying for a long while, Madam Ma wiped away her tears and spoke again.

“Everyone said he died a righteous death. They called him a man of chivalry who saved common folk being oppressed by the unorthodox factions. People burned incense for my son. A martial artist died upholding his convictions, so how could I condemn the choice he made? But... but...”

Pain surfaced in her black eyes.

“My head understands. My heart never did. Why did it have to be my son? Why did it have to be him? He was only a third-generation disciple who had barely begun using a real sword... What could a child like that have known? What could that young boy possibly have known...?”

Madam Ma’s voice dwindled to a faint murmur before fading away.

Only the pounding rain and the crackle of sparks from the brazier remained.

Silence settled over the room.

I poured another cup of jujube tea, now merely warm, and handed it to her.

This time she emptied it more easily, then sniffled and laughed.

“I’ve bored you with an old woman’s stories for far too long. Look at me, making such a spectacle of myself. I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying? Please don’t give it another thought, Madam.”

“You’ve got a kind heart too. I’m already jealous of whichever man gets to take you as his wife.”

Forcing a smile, Madam Ma wiped her face and rose.

She gathered the joss paper, stuffed it into her sleeve, and turned away, avoiding my eyes.

“Sorry for waking you before dawn. This old woman ought to be going.”

She seemed embarrassed that she had clung to someone so much younger and poured out a story I had never asked to hear.

I hesitated for a moment, then rose after her and asked gently,

“Madam... could you spare me a little more time?”

“What for?”

“I have some good spirits with me. If you don’t mind... I’d like to offer some to your son.”

Madam Ma’s eyes widened in surprise.

Then a faint smile touched her face, and she slowly nodded.

*****

The small memorial hall held rows of spirit tablets.

Several sticks of incense had already burned all the way down in the censer, suggesting many people had visited before us.

“Is the roof leaking...? Water’s splashed in.”

Muttering to herself, Madam Ma approached the tablets, picked up a clean cotton cloth, and began wiping them down one by one.

Then her hand stopped before one.

Hyeonso, Nineteenth-Generation Disciple of Wudang.

Madam Ma slowly traced the engraved characters.

A sorrowful smile crossed her face as she stroked the tablet.

“My child. Your mother’s here. Perhaps it’s the rain, but it’s cold even though spring has come. You aren’t cold, are you?”

After greeting him tenderly, she lifted Hyeonso’s tablet, wiped it with meticulous care, and returned it to its place.

I took out the spirits I had brought, poured a little into a cup, and set it before the tablet.

It wasn’t as though I had known him well enough to offer any proper greeting, so I stood there awkwardly.

Madam Ma gave a soft snort of laughter and squeezed my hand.

“Thank you, young lady. Thank you.”

“I...”

“That’s enough. This is more than enough. Come. Let’s go.”

She patted the back of my hand and led me out of the memorial hall.

Apparently intending to walk me all the way back to the guest quarters, Madam Ma opened her oil-paper umbrella and held it over me.

“That little Immortal seems quite fond of you.”

“Do you mean Daoist Songmyeong? I thought he was afraid of me.”

“What fool goes to see someone he’s frightened of every single day? Be good to him.”

“I will.”

At my obedient answer, Madam Ma clicked her tongue as though she felt sorry for him.

“He might not say it, but life in a Taoist monastery must be hard on him. What do children of twelve or thirteen know when they come up the mountain? You think they enjoy the food here? Or all the rules? And it isn’t as though the training is easy.”

“Ha... That’s true.”

“You grit your teeth and swing your sword, but when you fall behind your brothers, you get anxious. You wonder whether you’re not good enough, whether they’ll throw you out. It breaks my heart seeing children that young unable even to admit they’re struggling, sneaking off somewhere to shed a few tears where no one can see.”

Madam Ma sighed.

“...My son must have been the same. Even when things were hard, he couldn’t show it. Couldn’t whine to his mother. Just struggled through everything alone. If I’d known back then, I could at least have come to see how he was doing... But I learned too late.”

The grief in her voice left me unable to speak.

While I hesitated over what to say, Madam Ma waved a hand as though telling me not to worry about it and changed the subject.

“Maybe that’s why... every one of them looks like my son to me. I probably shouldn’t say such things about the young Daoists, but... that’s how this old woman feels.”

“I’m sure they all know why you take such good care of them. They told me you’re like a mother to them.”

“They did?”

Madam Ma smiled faintly at my answer.

She looked a little happier.