Moon's Whisper, Heart's Echo

16.The Chrysanthemums

Eun-soo's fingers trembled as she crushed the ginger root, its sharp scent rising to sting her eyes. Or perhaps it wasn't the ginger at all. The physician's instructions lay before her, each measurement precise, each ingredient promising health, vitality, hope. She pressed harder with the pestle, as if the force of her grinding might somehow guarantee results.

The rhythmic thud of palanquin bearers' feet in the courtyard made her pause. Not her husband's familiar stride—no, these steps came with the measured cadence she knew too well. Before the servant could announce the visitor, she knew: Lady Yi had arrived.

"Eomeoni." Eun-soo hurried to bow, conscious of the medicinal scents clinging to her sleeves. "What brings you to us this evening?"

Lady Yi stood in the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the setting sun. Her eyes found the empty courtyard where her son usually practiced his calligraphy at this hour. "Where is he?"

"Walking." The word felt like a betrayal on Eun-soo's tongue. "He's taken to evening walks lately."

"To see the boy, I hear." Lady Yi moved into the room like water finding its course, inevitable and smooth. "Min-joon."

"Yes, his nephew—"

"That woman's son." Lady Yi settled onto a cushion.

"Your grandchild," Eun-soo said softly.

Lady Yi's face remained impassive as she gestured to the servant. "Bring tea, child." Her eyes settled on Eun-soo with the weight of unspoken warnings.
"There are things you should know."

As Eun-soo signaled the servants, Lady Yi's gaze drifted to the eastern garden. "Your chrysanthemums are dying."

"I've been focused on the tonics—"

"A garden requires constant attention." Lady Yi accepted her tea cup. "Like a marriage. Tell me, why did Jae-hoon start to see the boy?"

"I brought it up—"

"And you never wondered why, that was a bad idea?"

"I thought perhaps—"

"You thought." Lady Yi's laugh was soft, almost gentle. "That's the trouble with kind hearts, Eun-soo. They think the best of everyone." She set down her cup. "Did you know she was originally meant for your husband?"

The revelation set in as Eun-soo's hand jerked, spilling tea across her sleeve.

"Oh, my dear." Lady Yi reached across to dab at the stain. "There are women who make an art of seeming helpless. Of needing protection. First Seong-hwan, now Jae-hoon..."

"But surely he's only being kind to his nephew—"

"Kindness?" Lady Yi's fingers found Eun-soo's wrist, their grip cool and firm. "Let me tell you about kindness. It can destroy a family faster than any cruelty. Especially when it's directed at those who know how to use it."

Outside, the evening bells began their song. Eun-soo thought of her husband's distant eyes, his late returns, the toy she'd found hidden in his desk.

"What should I do?"

Lady Yi rose, adjusting her hanbok with practiced grace. "Tend your garden, my dear. And perhaps..." Her voice turned delicate as new spring ice. "Keep your eyes on her. She has ability to turn brothers against one another. Sometimes a small wound now prevents a deeper cut later."

Long after the palanquin bearers' footsteps faded, Eun-soo remained among her herbs and bottles. The carefully measured ingredients seemed to mock her now—no remedy existed for the seed of doubt taking root in her heart.