In This Life

Prince of Flowers

Song Ji

Whenever Song Ji visited her grandmother, she had always asked about her mother when she was young. Obviously, Nana loved telling stories. All Song Ji had to do was sit back and listen as the stream of words flow from her lips and assemble into the tale of young Jeon Hye Ji. Nana would boast about how beautiful her daughter was, how charming and clever, and how all the men came knocking on her doors at night. It sounded to Song Ji like an entirely different person than the mother she grew up with.

The mother she knew was a hermit crab, glued to the little room above the book shop.

She'd always felt complimented when people who knew her mother said she looked like her, for her mother was beautiful... before she started hiding upstairs, of course. Although Song Ji was never there to see it, Nana would describe Mother's elegance as if she was a goddess, while in her head, Song Ji compared Nana's words with her mother now.

Her radiant fair skin used to glow with warmth and compassion but was now reduced to an ashen, pale complexion that reminded her of a ghost. Dark feverish bags replaced once charcoal eyes sparkling with mischief and adventure. Her shiny ebony locks were now graying, and each stepped she took looked tired. Song Ji wondered if, day by day, her mother was actually fading, like a freshly written letter against the rain.

"Who were you talking to? I swear I heard voices," She inquired from up the stairs.

Indubitably, it wasn't challenging for Song Ji to lie.

"I was reading one of the novels aloud. Sorry if I bothered you."

Her mother nodded, the suspicion slowly seeping from her expression. Song Ji mentally exhaled a sighed of relief as her mother turned back up the stairs.

"Wait, Mother," Song Ji exclaimed, almost forgetting the books. She pried her brain of an excuse as to how her mother would willingly give her the translated scripts.

"Since I've practically read all the volumes of books down here, I was wondering... if maybe I could borrow the special ones?" Song Ji cautiously asked. In anticipation, her finger anxiously fumbled on the hem of her skirt.

"Special ones?" Her mother asked.

She eagerly nodded.

Her mother opened her mouth to protest but instantly closed it, giving Song Ji the slightest bit of hope.

After a moment of silence, her mother spoke, "I guess there is one."

Song Ji's lit up, "Really?"

•○•○•

The following day Song Ji almost leaped from her bed, every fiber of her being filled with excitement. The butterflies in her stomach created a storm, thundering in unison with her heart. Tucked safely in her hands were the translated scripts her mother had given her yesterday. The pages were brittle from age and smelled of dust. Song Ji had forced herself not to read it until she saw Kwang So; perhaps he'll offer to read it together.

As expected, her mother was bundled safely in her room, deep in slumber. Song Ji nervously ran her fingers through her wardrobe, searching for the perfect dress. After thirty minutes of staring at her closet, she had chosen a hanbok with a rosy pink skirt as puffy as a pastry and a white dress shirt decorated with intricate flowers on the sleeves. Song Ji looked into the mirror and smiled as she ran a brush through her hair, pulling it back in a low ponytail.

She hugged the precious book against her chest and waited outside for the familiar face of Kwang So.

It was mid-spring in Kaesong, the wild cherry blossom trees flourished all over town. While the sun slowly climbed the horizon, villagers roamed the streets, beginning their day. Song Ji took a deep breath, absorbing the crisp air and warm sunlight.