Blooming even in the mud - Chapter 78

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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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Blooming Even in the Mud Chapter 78

As her strength depleted, Yoo Seo-hwa spent most of her day asleep. She wondered if she could die peacefully, as if falling asleep.
There was something gently tapping at Yoo Seo-hwa’s consciousness as she drifted along the boundary between life and death. When she softly opened her eyes, she realized it was the sound of rain beating against the window. It was late spring, and a heavy rain fell drearily and steadily.
“Kkot-bun, are you there?”
Now, even the view before her eyes was blurry and difficult to see.
“Yes, Miss. I’m here.”
Desperately holding back her tears, Kkot-bun tightly grasped Yoo Seo-hwa’s bony hand.
“Do you need anything? Is it a bit cold because of the rain?”
“When did the rain start?”
“It’s been falling all day since this morning. It’s night now.”
“Is the young master outside as well?”
“Yes. I tried to cover him with an Oil-paper Umbrella, but he refused.”
Yoo Seo-hwa pressed her hand to her head and closed her eyes. It seemed that what had been tapping at her consciousness was not the sound of the rain, but Gyeong Won-ui. Even in this rain, Gyeong Won-ui would be pleading.
“……I could have done that too, Kkot-bun.”
“Done what?”
“If only he had believed in my sincerity, I could have waited in front of the young master’s door, whether it rained or snowed. That was the nature of my affection.”
The reason she had not done so was because her father’s sins were so deep that she could not even muster the shamelessness to beg for forgiveness, and because she trusted that Gyeong Won-ui, at least, would believe in her.
‘You are the one who betrayed that trust, so why are you trying to extend my lifespan by risking your own life?’
A lamentation like a groan escaped her.
“Open the door.”
Kkot-bun pushed the door open. Just a little, enough so the raindrops wouldn’t blow inside and Gyeong Won-ui could be seen.
Through her blurry, distorted vision, Gyeong Won-ui’s figure was hard to discern. Yoo Seo-hwa thought it was a relief that she couldn’t see him, soaked to the bone and as gaunt as herself.
“Would you hold the Oil-paper Umbrella over the young master?”
“Yes.”
Kkot-bun hurriedly gathered the Oil-paper Umbrella and went out to Gyeong Won-ui. This time, Gyeong Won-ui did not refuse.
“Young Master.”
After uttering a single word, Yoo Seo-hwa was short of breath and had to catch her breath for a moment.
“Do you remember the nutmeg tree in the private residence?”
“Do you mean the nutmeg tree where Gyeong Won-yeong’s kite got caught?”
“Yes. Years ago, when I first visited the private residence, I had a dream. A dream that someday, our child would also fly a kite near that nutmeg tree, and you and I would watch with smiles as the child climbed the tree.”
“…….”
“But now, the nutmeg tree has withered and become a dead old tree. Our child will not be able to climb it. Can you revive the nutmeg tree, Young Master?”
“……If that is what you wish, I will do so.”
“Show me the rugged flowers of the nutmeg tree.”
Just speaking for a short moment caused beads of sweat to form on her forehead. Yoo Seo-hwa leaned her body deep into the bed and spoke to Kkot-bun.
“Could I trouble you for some warm water?”
“Yes! I’ll bring it right away!”
Kkot-bun cried out and ran outside.
Having gained a very brief reprieve, Gyeong Won-ui barely managed to rise from the dirt ground for the first time in days. His strengthless legs were as stiff as wooden logs, but he held himself up with great effort and closed the room door. To the weakened Yoo Seo-hwa, even a slight chilly breeze was dangerous.
‘The nutmeg tree…….’
Maintaining the reprieve he had barely obtained was nigh impossible. Yet, surviving the Imperial Prison had also seemed impossible. Even so, Gyeong Won-ui had survived the Imperial Prison and reunited with Yoo Seo-hwa.
Just hearing her voice again and seeing her take even a single step away from death blunted the layers of accumulated fatigue.
Now, during this brief reprieve, he had been granted life by Yoo Seo-hwa.

Seven.

Mang-a’s family was ruined because of the nobility.
A tenant farmer who cultivated the farmland of a certain nobleman had a young and beautiful wife. She was Mang-a’s mother. The nobleman framed his father with a false accusation, and his mother had no choice but to serve the nobleman in bed to save his father.
His father was released, but he was left half-paralyzed. He was resentful and furious, but he could not resist the nobleman. His father’s target shifted to his mother.

He beat his mother, calling her a whore. Young Mang-a always cried as he watched his father and mother fight.
That year, the famine was severe. His father sold off his elder sister, who was only twelve years old, as a child maidservant. Shocked by this, his mother hanged herself on the back mountain.
Mang-a fled, escaping his father, who spat and cursed at his mother’s dead body.

If it hadn’t been for the nobility, his family, who lived day by day with smiles despite their poverty, would not have been broken.

It was around that time that he met Taeguang Zhenren, the rising cult leader of the White Head Sect. Taeguang Zhenren took Mang-a in as he begged on the streets and made him an attendant.
Mang-a was simply overjoyed that he could eat warm meals and wear clothes that weren’t torn. He also felt a vicarious satisfaction watching noblemen grovel before Taeguang Zhenren.
It was only later that he realized Taeguang Zhenren and the White Head Sect were no different from the greedy nobility to the common people.
On the night the rebellion broke out, Taeguang Zhenren, who was urgent to save his own skin, abandoned Mang-a. It was only after the Crown Princess secretly hid Mang-a and entrusted him to Beopjisa that Mang-a learned the true nature of the White Head Sect.
It was a great shock.

Han Gak had warmly embraced Mang-a.
Mang-a knew the reason why the Crown Princess had risked danger to save him.
‘She wants me to testify about the reason why the princess, who didn’t even believe in the White Head Sect, regularly offered riches. But aren’t the imperial family, the nobility, and the Taoist masters of the White Head Sect all the same?’
Having learned the harshness of the world at too young an age, Mang-a could not trust Yoo Seo-hwa either. They were all equally bad people.
‘But do the slaves here have no pride?’
Mang-a pouted. The slaves of the Gyeong Clan Residence performed hard labor just like slaves in other households, but strangely, their expressions were relaxed.
“It’s because the master doesn’t treat the slaves harshly. If my previous master’s house had been even half as good as this place, I wouldn’t have fled and been caught by a slave hunter.”
“Take when the fire broke out, for example. Even though the culprit was that fellow Kkeoksoe, in any other residence, everyone starting from the butler and the head slave would have been severely punished. But only Kkeoksoe was dragged away.”
“Before the pavilion was entirely burned down, they probably would have recklessly pushed people in to put out the fire quickly, and some people would have died.”
“And that lady, too. In the past, I was spiteful that she came from a noble background, so I harassed her a bit. I was so terrified that the situation had reversed and I would face retaliation. But she didn’t say a word, so I’m incredibly grateful…….”
“She also saved Dal-rae without hesitation when Dal-rae was always picking fights with her. She’s a good person.”
“It’s truly a relief that she’s recovering.”
Whenever he heard these various praises, Mang-a’s lips pouted even further. They were bound to be the same kind of people anyway. He only muttered his discontent.
“Oh? The flowers haven’t fallen?”
Due to the spring rain that had fallen drearily for four days, most of the flowers had fallen. It was strange that only the peonies in front of Yoo Seo-hwa’s room window remained partly intact, holding a voluptuous redness.
“Mang-a, where are you?”
“I’m coming!”
At the sound of Kkot-bun calling him, Mang-a quickly pushed aside his thoughts and rushed over.

Having recovered her health enough to sit up, Yoo Seo-hwa taught Kkot-bun how to read and write, just as she had promised. Having started her studies at a late age, Kkot-bun groaned but followed the lessons diligently.
“Wow, so this is my name. How fascinating.”
Looking down at her name, which was written in a messy, crooked hand, Kkot-bun was utterly thrilled.
It was also Mang-a’s first time seeing a noble personally teach a slave how to write. Even though he tried not to pay attention, his eyes kept wandering over.
“Mang-a, are you interested as well?”
“That’s right. Mang-a is younger than me and smart, so he’ll learn the characters quickly.”
Receiving the attention of the two, Mang-a suddenly felt like showing off.
“I know a few characters too. I’m even better at writing numbers.”
“Oh, really? That’s amazing.”
“You must have learned from the monks at Beopjisa.”
“Y-Yes, that’s right.”
He had learned basic reading and writing when he was with the White Head Sect. It was to record the people who donated riches while following Taeguang Zhenren around.
Because he had been scolded a lot, he hadn’t been very interested in studying. He had never tried to learn characters at the temple either, so he had forgotten a lot.
Kkot-bun was slow at learning. Even so, Yoo Seo-hwa taught her calmly without ever raising her voice. Mang-a hesitated.
“But I forgot a lot because I was lazy.”
From that day on, one more student was added to learn characters from Yoo Seo-hwa.

* * *

Gyeong Won-ui caressed the nutmeg tree. The rough bark pricked his palm.
Just as Yoo Seo-hwa had said, it was a tree with many memories. The nutmeg tree was the only thing within the private residence that had been preserved with old memories intact.
‘It’s not that I hadn’t thought about trying to revive it, but…….’
When he reclaimed and repaired the private residence after five years, he had seen the nutmeg tree, which could no longer bear green leaves. When he called a gardener, the man expressed reluctance.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to cut it down, but it was also true that he had avoided walking near the nutmeg tree on purpose.
If he thinned out the dead branches, applied nutrient-rich fertilizer, and tended to it, it might beat the incredibly slim odds and undergo a revival.
‘Is that truly what Her Highness desires?’

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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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