Chapter 7 - [1800]

On days where school isn’t in session, twelve year old Yi Yeong would be in his room, studying and reading up on information he has yet to learn. The tidy room of his kept him shaded from the sun’s warmth and shielded from the gentle afternoon’s breeze, and hidden alongside the many rooms to his residence. His home was not much, but it held it’s sense of nobility as its wallpapers was rich with spotless colors.

In his room where every corner was infested with bookshelves and writings that hung on paper scrolls, the youngster was seated on a cushion behind a table, where at night would be spread out as his bed. However, the space was his current study area. Sitting to a corner on his table were stacks of neat, untouched papers that he would pull out after he has completed his thoughts onto the previous vellum. Yeong was slowly planning and painting the of the inked brush in his right hand. His eyes never left the paper and especially areas where he had aimed to paint over.

The boy’s careful markings approached a pause when a knock came to his sliding door. “Yeong. Are you in there?”

Recognizing the voice, Yeong glanced up before answering, “Yes father.”

“I’m coming in.” The raspy voice on the other side announced.

“Do come in, father.” The boy set down the hairy spot of his brush over a Chinese ink cup before the door came to a wide open. There Yeong made eye contact with his father. His parent was a man who once possessed handsome Asian features, but due to his heavy workload and lack of sleep, the man now has bags under his eyes and ugly wrinkles. When Yeong was about to stand to respectively greet his father, the older man stopped him.

“Stay seated, son.” With that Yeong relaxed his shoulders and weight. His father walked in with his hands clasped behind him, and when he was close enough to Yeong his eyes traced down to see what the youth has been up to. “The strength of mankind?” The elder raised an eyebrow. “May I?” The man held out one of his palm. Yeong could guess that his father wanted to see his work up close and so was asking for permission, thus the boy took hold of the paper with both hands and stood up to present it. When the older took it, he read the writings silently to himself, before detaching his eyes from the piece. “What made you choose a scholar as the strongest among mankind, Yeong?” His father’s question was one filled with generous curiosity.

Yeong smiled a little, out of habit his hands hid behind his back just like his father, before answering. “A scholar must hold a brush, a lighter object compared to any other weapon. The brush’s purpose is to imprint boundless characters onto sheets that will result in becoming useful teachings or great regulations.” His father leaked a growing smile, hence giving him more courage to continue, “Father, you’ve always said that a scholar is no different from a warrior who wields a sword, a weapon that requires much strength to control each swing. It is true, that and swings made by brushes and weapons may leave unwanted prints and scars, but in reality both are seen differently.”

“How so?” The eldest posed a question to challenge the youth’s way of thinking.

Yeong pleasingly explained, “The strongest of mankind must be a scholar because he is a man who makes the rules with erudition and great intelligence. A man who carries a sword is no less than a threat if he tries to make any laws by his blade. That is why you’ve always taught me, father, that the reason why the King isn’t always at war with a sword is because it won’t and does not solve everything. That’s why his majesty holds meetings among scholars and not warriors. Right, father?”

Yeong thought the older’s growing smile carried a hint of proudness in it, but when the older spoke, his smile and words did not match up. “Not every man who carries a sword is a threat my son.” The man took another long look at Yeong’s writing. “A sword also resembles preservation, conservation, and a sanctuary. Haven’t I always told you? It is not the position that makes a man bad or strong. Remember this, to fully understand the truth behind a person’s thoughts and actions you must look to the holder. Not the brush or sword in hand, because often some are masters at both. However, most importantly some do not reveal at first what they are capable of, so you must read them correctly or you will misjudge them, my son.”

Taking in his father's advise slowly, a moment of realization suddenly hit him, there was no end to learning, "Then, I will keep your teachings in mind, dear father," they exchanged handsome smiles before Yeong's father scanned over his paper again. 

Yeong sat, kneeling, off to the side of the bed made just for his sick mother. His young mother was a woman with a wide forehead and beautiful Korean facials. Though his mother was right beside him, Yeong felt a powerful sense of emptiness. Visitations to his mother’s room, which was just down the hall from his, has become more than difficult. And just as every visit seemed more complicated, the illness of his mother has been increasing. So, to ease the woman’s pain, she was put to sleep on most of her remaining days. Yeong, her only son, was only allowed to be in the same room as her when she’s fast asleep. However, even in her sleep she would scowl every now and then, and each frown tend to leave traces of ridges behind.

“Dear mother. When you’re healthy, would you show me your dances? Father always tell how he fell for you when he first saw you dance. He used to mention how he never thought any beautiful woman would marry a scholar like him, he who has no experiences with a weapon heavier than a brush. He thought women only like men who can protect her with his strength and not his mind. Father's thinking can be very innocent at times.” Yeong smiled a little before resetting his lips to its normal place. “When you’re able to stand, would you stand by my side mother? Till this day I do not know how tall you are. How tall would I be if I stood next to you. Would I be shorter or taller than you, mother?”

Yeong decided to take a breather when staring at the image of his motionless mother became too suffocating. In the middle of the courtyard, Yeong was surprised to see his father standing alone, with what appeared to be a sword in his dried, old palm.

“Yeong, come over. Starting from today I shall teach you swordsmanship.” The elder said. Yeong who has never been introduced to a real sword before was caught off guard. “I’ve taught you the ways of our family for far too long. Starting from today you will also learn the way of the sword, it should come in handy for you in the future. There will come a time when you’ll need to protect yourself with an object heavier and stronger than a brush. And when that day comes, you would have mastered both being an intelligent scholar and at the same time a powerful warrior.”

Yeong who has stopped in place could only watch without a sound. Even after his father’s speech was done, Yeong didn’t move a muscle. Rather, it was more of the fact that he couldn’t move a muscle. He had come a long way believing in all and only the powers that a brush possesses against a weapon of any kind. In fact, Yeong had no personal interest in the sword or any of the likes. Simply because he was a lad of ink and paper before he was of a sword and shield.

Yeong stood in silence as his father handed him the blade, a weapon he didn’t want to touch. “Dear father, I would rather not—”

“Take it my son,” Baekhyun said while holding out a scimitar to Yeong. “If you start now, you will get used to it. I do not want you to experience what I had to go through. I was taught the ways of the sword at a very late age. I can barely wield a sword properly now.” Baekhyun explained. Despite not wanting to see his father hold onto the sword, Yeong reached for it with a heavy heart. “Swing it at me, my son.” Baekhyun said before Yeong could grab the sword, the moment the sword handle was in Yeong’s hand, the older removed his hand right after. Shockingly the blade fell toward the earth first, pulling Yeong’s hand with it. The boy’s eyes grew and he peeped up to his father.

The older smiled. “It’s heavy isn’t it?”

“W-well….Yes….” Yeong answered, surprised by the weight of the material. He even wondered how a person could swing such heavy metal. For a brief moment he realized why only men and not boys carried swords.

“You will get used to it soon my son, but I want you to always keep it in mind the moment of how heavy the sword first felt. Once you swing that weight at another person’s body, it’s going to hurt them. That’s the burden you must carry, just as I have always told you about that of a brush.”

Yeong heaved a heavy exhalation as he looked down and toward the sword. The sword was indeed very heavy for such an item that appeared light. The way of the sword was much more difficult than what Yeong had thought it to be.

End of Chapter Seven.