An Advertising Genius Falls into the Joseon Era - Chapter 42

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 42
That night.
The banquet hall lay some distance from the inn.
Following the faint glow of lanterns, Ha Yun soon glimpsed an enormous wall looming in the darkness ahead.
Hundreds of crimson lanterns hung in long rows along its expanse.
The pillars were carved with gilt patterns, and at the main gate stood a colossal bronze statue so lifelike it seemed ready to stir at any moment.
The architecture was overwhelmingly grand, a testament to Qing Dynasty prestige.
Ha Yun, standing at the banquet hall’s entrance, glanced sideways.
“Ready?”
Song Do-hyeon gave a small nod.
“Of course.”
“Good. Let’s go in.”
The two men stepped into the banquet hall.
Ha Yun’s jaw went slack.
“A banquet of this scale…!”
There were easily hundreds of tables.
Each groaned under an abundance of delicacies, arranged without a gap.
Dozens of musicians played without pause along one side, while an equal number of attendants ferried dishes in endless procession.
At the center, elegantly dressed guests reveled in the celebration.
They were the Qing Dynasty merchants gathered for the Ginseng Trade.
Wei Xiaogang approached Ha Yun and Song Do-hyeon, his expression brightening.
“Ah, so you’ve arrived at last.”
As this newcomer appeared, the merchants’ eyes naturally turned toward him.
“Who are those men?”
“Ah, I hear they’re the representatives sent from Joseon to negotiate the ginseng trade.”
“Those two?”
An elderly merchant eyed Ha Yun with undisguised disdain.
“Where is Im Sang-ok, and what is this—sending mere boys in his place?”
“Im Sang-ok sent word he couldn’t attend due to other matters.”
“Is that so?”
The merchants made no effort to hide their displeasure at Im Sang-ok’s absence and Ha Yun’s substitution.
“Surely there are limits to such contempt. To send us mere youngsters…tsk!”
“Song’s position we might accept, but the other fellow—he’s a complete nobody, an absolute novice!”
Then one merchant’s mouth curled into a peculiar smile.
“Surely this works to our advantage, does it not?”
“How so?”
“We’re spared the burden of dealing with that cunning fox Im Sang-ok. What could be better?”
“Ha! True enough!”
Laughter erupted from those gathered nearby.
They raised their cups as though the trade had already been concluded.
“Excellent.”
Then someone’s eyes glinted with ominous calculation as they surveyed the room.
“Now is the time. Let us set the ginseng price anew.”
“The ginseng price?”
“With Im Sang-ok absent, this is our golden opportunity. Think of how we’ve suffered all these years, walking on eggshells because of him!”
……
The Qing merchants’ expressions shifted subtly.
They had negotiated directly with Im Sang-ok for decades.
They’d deployed every underhanded tactic—collusion, manipulation, intimidation—yet all had come to nothing against his seasoned cunning. Worse, he’d used their schemes as leverage to throttle supply, forcing them to accept prices far steeper than before, year after humiliating year.
Fifty years. Fifty long years.
Yet Im Sang-ok had not appeared.
Nor did he seem likely to.
For these merchants, it was as though a painful tooth had finally been extracted.
“Without Im Sang-ok, handling such an inexperienced boy is nothing—child’s play.”
Their eyes blazed with the fire of opportunity at last seized.
“Let us crush this thoroughly. Ensure he never dares raise his head again!”
“Well spoken. What gives some mere Joseon merchant the gall to swagger about?”
“Let us exact repayment for every slight we’ve endured—and then some!”
“Yes! Only then will my heart be at ease!”

The Qing merchants watched the entrance with meaningful expressions.
Wei Xiaogang was there, receiving Ha Yun and Song Do-hyeon.
“Thank you all for gracing us with your presence at this banquet.”

Ha Yun tilted his head in confusion, and Wei Xiaogang continued with a laugh.
“Ah, forgive me—I should be speaking Joseon, shouldn’t I?”
Ha Yun narrowed his eyes. “I hadn’t assumed otherwise.”
“Ha ha, you don’t think I’d do that intentionally, do you?”
Wei Xiaogang gestured playfully as he led the two men to an empty table.
“Please, sit here.”
Wine and food were already laid out on the table.
The moment they took their seats, Wei Xiaogang began pouring spirits into the empty cups with a generous splash.
“Come now, have a drink.”
Wei Xiaogang pushed a cup toward Ha Yun.
“Let’s wash away all the unpleasantness from today with this.”
Ha Yun eyed the cup cautiously.
“…Hmm?”
Even before he picked it up, a sharp, piercing smell rose to his nose.
The spirit before him was what they called Fenzhù—a notorious liquor of devastating potency.
This particular batch had been distilled multiple times using only the Alcohol Head, the first and strongest distillate, and its proof easily exceeded fifty degrees.
By rough calculation, it was four to five times stronger than ordinary soju.
A single cup was virtually equivalent to drinking more than half a bottle of common spirits.
Yet the cup before him was not merely filled—it brimmed over with the stuff.
The intent behind the gesture was unmistakable.
“Drink it down in one go, if you would.”
Wei Xiaogang gestured at Ha Yun.
Ha Yun startled. “All at once?”
“That is our custom of hospitality. If you refuse the cup, I shall take it to mean you find our courtesy lacking.”
He added, almost as an afterthought:
“Surely the representative of Joseon isn’t troubled by a drink this modest?”
“Troubled? I’m not…”
Despite his words, Ha Yun’s expression was plainly unhappy.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t hold his drink, but he’d never tasted straight liquor this potent before.
If something went wrong, he might wake too hungover to face tomorrow’s negotiations.
And he had no guarantee what sort of drunk he might become—he could lose all sense, like he had with Song Do-hyeon years ago.
Ha Yun’s hesitation deepened as he stared at the cup.
‘What do I do? Just drink it down?’
But he couldn’t simply refuse, either.
Even now, Wei Xiaogang watched him from across the table with a look of disdain.
His gaze was thick with the unspoken thought: ‘So that’s all there is to him.’
If he refused the cup now, it would be a psychological defeat—and that he would not accept.
‘Fine then. One cup won’t hurt.’
Ha Yun made his decision.
He reached for the cup without hesitation—
“Wait.”
A hand suddenly appeared, blocking the cup.
It was Song Do-hyeon.
“Why?”
Ha Yun looked at him in surprise. Song Do-hyeon muttered under his breath:
‘You’ll ruin the Ginseng Trade.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘If you drink this, you won’t wake until the sun is past its zenith.’
Song Do-hyeon, versed in Qing customs, knew well the potency of Fenzhù.
And he knew exactly what would result if Ha Yun drank it.
He took the cup from Ha Yun’s grasp almost by force.

“I’ll have the liquor myself. You focus on the trade agreement tomorrow.”
Without hesitation, he brought the Fenzhù to his lips and drank.
Gulp. Gulp.
A harsh aroma seared his nostrils, and a heat like molten lava coursed down his throat.
Yet Song Do-hyeon set down the empty cup as though he’d merely sipped water, composure unshaken.
Then he spoke.
“My throat was dry anyway.”
……
Ha Yun stared at him in a daze.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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