Song of the Black Dragon

SEVEN

Sun-ha dreamt of laying in a field of hibiscuses. As she relished the feel of the waving flowers, a streak of dark blue flew above her, bending like a river, and evaporated as it moved closer to the sun. Remnants of the water fell out of the sky and doused her in a sudden torrent of rain. The water did not dampen her clothes, leaving only her throat covered in rain droplets.

The morning was cooler than usual, and the Lady Ho forbade her daughter to leave until the weather warmed enough. Sun-ha watched Minyoung put away her bed mat, get her breakfast, and bring sewing supplies to spend their time indoors.

Sun-ha quietly wove colored thread into her cloth. Her memory of the flowers outside the residence was mangled with the flashes of Jung's face. He ignored me when I asked about the imperial guard. He was climbing walls for who knows what reason. Is there nothing in this world that means something to his heart?

"Your stitches are beautiful, Ma-ma-nim," Minyoung said, marveling at the floral pattern Sun-ha had began.

Sun-ha smiled. But briefly. Minyoung made no attempt to be her friend. Loyalty was expected of those who served the family—but to conflate that loyalty with friendship was a dreadful mistake.

"Thank you. But I think it would be better if we were outside. I am stitching this based on my memory of the flower arrangements surrounding the residence."

"But Ma-ma-nim, are you sure? The Lady Ho was very clear that she won't permit an outing due to the weather."

If a noble family was cast out of the palace, their servants would move on and take their loyalty to serve another noble family. Will I have to resolve to shut in my emotions from now on?

"I am aware, Minyoung. But I can't stand being inside right now. And the weather truly isn't so bad anyway."

"Of course." Minyoung bowed her head and placed her needle and cloth into the basket between them before doing the same with Sun-ha's. Her attendant picked up the basket and followed her outside.

Sun-ha stopped on the residence steps to sigh in the spring air. How many more days do I have left until I am his wife? She briefly closed her eyes, realizing the thought brought a dim mix of emotions that mirrored the cloudy sky. She walked over to the benches on the east side of the main entrance. It was near the sarangchae, but Sun-ha didn't think it was likely that her father would have any guests on a day like this.

Once seated at one of the benches, Sun-ha resumed her embroidery. Minyoung did not rejoin and, instead, stood away with her head inclined and hands folded for the duration of the outing. The quietness and occasional breeze helped keep Sun-ha's mind clear and calm. Some time into her sewing, Sun-ha stopped for a moment and smiled in saddened relief for this rare period of normalcy since Min-ah's death.

Footsteps approached after an hour of silence. Minyoung bowed deeper and held it.

"Ah, so this is your daughter, Doyoon," came the voice of an unknown male behind her.

Sun-ha stopped her needlework to stand and bow before she could get a proper look at the person who had spoken. For Minyoung to bow so deeply and remain bowing meant the speaker was above the Ho family in standing. In addition, he had addressed Sun-ha's father by his first name.

"Lift your head, Sun-ha, and show me what you've done so far." This time, it was her father speaking.

Sun-ha did as instructed, first offering the cloth. Then she looked up, seeing her father beside a man who looked like an older version of Yonghwa. She quickly cast her eyes down as the two men inspected her sewing.

"It takes a sharp eye to maintain the color and shade of the leaves despite the clouds overhead," Magistrate Jung said. "Commendable work." Her father nodded and handed the cloth back to Minyoung.