Longevity - Chapter 54

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

Episode 54: Following the River Downstream
It was Jangseong’s first time boarding a boat.
Once the official vessel pulled away from the dock, he couldn’t bring himself to stay in his cabin and instead paced back and forth across the deck. Below, the steady sound of oars cutting through water rose at regular intervals, and the rigging trembled taut whenever it caught the river wind.
The boat had three levels in all. The lower two held military provisions and cargo, and the rowers who worked the oars kept to those spaces. The top level was lined with dozens of small passenger cabins.
The cabin assigned to Jangseong was so cramped he could barely turn around in it.
So most of the passengers lingered on deck until the sun had fully set. Officials’ families gathered in small clusters, gazing out at both riverbanks. Silk-clad ladies and young women stood attended by maidservants.
Jangseong had never seen so many women gathered in one place before.
Though he harbored no ill intent, he found his eyes drawn several times as he tried to discern which were young women of status and which were servants. The distinction lay in the fineness of their silks and ornaments, but even the maidservants bore an air entirely different from the women he’d known in his village.
Yet he lacked the courage to draw near.
He made his way to the stern, where fewer people gathered, and withdrew a small dagger from his shirt. He began carefully stripping the bark from a Paulownia Branch.
Paulownia wood was soft—the slightest pressure could mar the inner core. Jangseong worked with deliberate care, shaping it smooth and even to leave no hint that anything lay concealed within the branch.
Scrape, scrape.
Thin shavings of bark accumulated at his feet.
Once full darkness fell and he could no longer see the tips of his fingers, he gathered the shavings and cast them into the river, then walked slowly along the stern.
Each time his left foot touched down, his body wanted to list. Each time, he straightened his spine and balanced his weight evenly across both legs.
One, two.
Habits ingrained over many years did not vanish in a single day. Yet his legs no longer felt short. He no longer needed to brace himself with a staff when crossing a threshold or climbing steps.
That fact alone made his chest swell.
Jangseong had resigned himself to living as a cripple for life. Then, entirely without warning, the Protector Abbots of Milzong had mended his legs.
Kindness received weighs heavy on the heart. It creates a debt that must one day be repaid.
Yet no one could live entirely without help from others. There was no shame in receiving kindness—the shame lay in receiving it and forgetting.
He stood listening to the sound of the river and thought of Mujeon Jingung and the others.
Since they had parted on the Sacheon River, he had confirmed the fate of none of them directly. Jin Ipchu and Yi Jungryong had fought the enemy together before plunging into the water; Mujeon Jingung had disappeared into the current even earlier.
He could only hope they had all survived.
Just then, voices of women drifted over the starboard rail.
Jangseong assumed they didn’t know he was there in the stern and turned to move away.

“It’s been over a month since Mother brought me back to my family home. Do you think Ipchu might have sent a letter?”

His feet stopped.
Ipchu was a common enough name. But his heart reacted before caution could catch up.
After a moment, a younger woman’s voice replied.

“Young Miss, your husband entered military service. Things are different now from when he roamed Gangho as a free man, so don’t worry too much if his letters are slow to arrive.”

Young Master Jin.
Jangseong held his breath.
It was definitely Jin Ipchu.
That he had entered military service came as a surprise. Given his love of freedom and hatred of constraint, Jangseong doubted he would have sought out the army of his own accord.
But people were searching for him in every corner of Gangho now. Within a military camp, it would be far easier to hide one’s identity, and fewer would be in a position to lay hands on him.

“A battlefield is where blades and arrows fly. Even if one’s martial arts are high, that doesn’t guarantee safety at every moment.”
“Young Master Jin possesses the Jeolgi within his body, so he should be able to slip away even in dire circumstances.”

The mention of Jeolgi erased the last trace of doubt.
Jangseong waited, hoping to hear which army Jin Ipchu had joined and where he was stationed. But the two women spoke only of Ipchu’s welfare and the absence of his letters—they said nothing of commanders or garrisons.
Soon a servant approached.

“The night wind has grown cold, Miss. Your mother asks that you come inside.”

Only after the two women had departed did Jangseong lean out to look. The torchlight was too dim to make out their faces. One woman was tall and slender; the other, whom he took to be the maidservant, was a head shorter.
The news that Jin Ipchu lived outweighed his disappointment at learning no more.
Jin Ipchu had fought the enemy alongside Yi Jungryong. If Jin Ipchu had safely entered the military, the odds were high that Yi Jungryong had also survived. And Mujeon Jingung, who had fallen into the water before the others, was not a man to die easily.
Nothing was certain.
Yet for the first time, he had reason to step back from the thought that all his brothers might be dead.
Jangseong walked the deck several times more.
The guards and escort warriors had watched him warily at first. But seeing a shaven-headed youth walk in circles with his hands clasped together, they seemed to take him for a young novice monk in practice.
Jangseong made no effort to correct the misunderstanding.
* * *
It was nearly the second watch when he finally returned to his cabin.
On the table sat a small oil lamp and an evening meal. Over the millet rice lay strips of blanched greens and lettuce. The food had grown cold, as if set out ages ago, but Jangseong left not a single grain.
By his standards, it was a fine supper.
By the time he finished eating, the lamp’s oil had burned dry.
Click.
The wick gave one last flicker and died.
Jangseong lay in darkness on his bunk.
His leg had healed, and he’d boarded the government vessel bound for Ganzhou.

He’d even heard word of Jin Ipchu’s survival—an unexpected mercy.
Now there was nothing left but to wait.
If Yi Jungryong’s calculations held true, they’d reach Ganzhou within a fortnight.
It was the Windy Water Season, and the river ran rough, but the government vessel was large and sturdy. Laden with supplies, she sat heavy and stable in the water. Each time her wooden hull pitched on the waves, the timber walls groaned low—unsettling, but not alarming.
That night, for the first time in weeks, Jangseong slept deeply.
* * *
The next morning, a knock at the door pulled him awake.

“Young Master Jang, are you awake?”

Outside stood Pa Jomun, the supplies escort officer.

We’re passing Baidi City soon. The view from the river is magnificent—don’t miss it.”

Jangseong dressed and climbed to the deck, where it was already crowded with passengers.
Baidi City perched on the cliffs that rose from the north bank of the great river. From the boat, one had to crane one’s neck back to take it in. Both riverbanks cut upward sheer as a blade, and mist coiled around the cliff’s waist, drifting like smoke.
Pa Jomun recited a poem the poet Li Bai had composed a century past as he passed through these gorges.
Jangseong listened with half an ear while scanning the crowd.
He wanted to find the two women whose voices he’d heard last night.
There were many women in silk garments, and they were hard to distinguish. It took him a while to spot a tall young woman of noble bearing and a smaller maidservant beside her.
The young woman’s eyes were clear, her face beautiful. Though the ship carried its share of handsome women, they paled when she stood among them.
Jangseong found himself thinking that Jin Ipchu had discerning taste, and he looked a moment longer than was proper.
The maidservant noticed his gaze first. She shifted slightly in front of her mistress and fixed Jangseong with a pointed, disapproving stare.
Jangseong hastily turned away.
In that instant, something black rose from the river’s surface.
At first he took it for a log drifting downstream. But the area of it visible above the water kept growing.

“Captain Pa, look at that.”

Jangseong pointed, and those nearby turned at once to stare at the river.
Splash!
A moss-green carapace pushed up through the water, breaking the surface.
Even a turtle the size of a tabletop was a rarity, but this creature’s shell spanned the width of three small houses lashed together. Its enormous back rose like an island floating on the current.

“That’s a turtle?”
“Impossible!”

Cries and gasps swept across the deck.
Jangseong was startled too, but he couldn’t look away.
Then a head the size of a millstone rose above the water. It was no common turtle snout—blunt and broad, the head resembled an ox’s skull seen from a distance.
The colossal creature turned and regarded the government vessel.
Its eyes were each as wide as a basin.
When that gaze fixed on the ship, the noise on deck ceased for a single held breath.
The turtle swam slowly toward the vessel.
Splash. Splash.
Though its movements were unhurried, its massive body covered distance quickly—each stroke of its flippers narrowed the gap.
Passengers crowded toward the southern rail. Children began to wail; the maidservants clung to one another.

“Get a rooster from the hold! Bring yellow paper and fragrant herbs!”

The Ship Captain shouted.
The sailors bolted down to the lower deck.
The enormous turtle drew within three boat-lengths of the vessel. Yet it did not ram the hull. With its head held high, it drifted downstream alongside the official ship.
Fewer than thirty people remained on the left rail—mostly soldiers and escort warriors. Even if they’d wanted to flee, they were already on the water, and few could bring themselves to retreat first in plain sight of so many.
Jangseong gripped the railing and studied the turtle.
Up close, black moss and shells clung between the ridges of its carapace. This was no creature of a year or two’s growth.
The turtle turned its head slightly.
Its gaze seemed to brush past Jangseong.
A chill ran down his spine.
Yet he couldn’t be certain it had seen him at all. Hundreds of people crowded the deck, and there was no way to know whose eyes the creature had fixed upon.
A moment later, the massive head began to lower slowly.
Rumble-rumble.
The carapace sank beneath the water, leaving behind a churning vortex.
The sailors who had climbed back bearing rooster and fragrant herbs halted at the rail’s edge. The turtle had vanished without a trace.
People crowded toward the Ship Captain.

“What in the world was that?”
“An auspicious omen? A calamity?”

The Ship Captain gazed downstream, his face troubled.

“I’ve been sailing this river for decades. I’ve seen large fish and serpents aplenty, and a few massive turtles besides—but nothing like that.”

He added only after a long pause.

“A creature like that might have lived a thousand years. Old things develop Spiritual Essence—I can’t say why it would show itself in broad daylight.”

His words did little to reassure anyone.
Most passengers retreated to their cabins. The deck emptied quickly.
Jangseong watched the waters where the turtle had vanished for a long while.
He couldn’t divine the reason for the creature’s appearance now. Rather than hastily determining whether it boded well or ill, it was better to keep watch and see if it surfaced again.
* * *
But over the following days, nothing happened.
The wind was fair and the current steady. The enormous turtle never reappeared.
Because the other passengers avoided the deck, Jangseong claimed a choice spot at the bow. He placed a small stool and watched the river and mountains unfold.
In the mornings, mist flowed through the cliffs. At midday, flocks of water birds rose into flight before the bow. At night, the lights of riverside villages flickered on and off like distant sparks.
By day Jangseong refined the Paulownia Branch, and by evening he committed to memory the Secret Manual and the Thousand Gold Beneficial Methods that dwelled in his mind. Whenever time allowed, he paced the deck to correct his gait.
On the eighth day, Pa Jomun’s demeanor changed.
He spent most of his time on deck, yet not to admire the scenery. He kept glancing upstream or checking the banners of passing vessels. His brow remained perpetually furrowed.
At first, Jangseong did not ask.
If the escort commander was troubled, it likely concerned supplies or official business—not a matter for an outsider to meddle in.
But even after midday, Pa Jomun’s expression did not ease. After a low conversation with the Ship Captain, he stood long at the bow, staring into the river.
Jangseong approached carefully.

“Commander Pa, is something the matter?”

Pa Jomun did not answer at once. He first checked that no one was nearby, then spoke.

“There are two large official ships that carry military supplies on this river. One goes down, one comes back—that’s how it works.”

Jangseong nodded.

“By schedule, we should have met the returning vessel yesterday.”
“Could the current have delayed it?”
“That ship is the same size as ours. Without hitting a severe storm, there’s no reason it should be more than a day late.”

Pa Jomun scanned the riverbank.

“And the weather’s been fair these past few days—both wind and water.”

Jangseong’s gaze turned toward the upper reaches of the river.
The image of the enormous turtle surfacing flashed through his mind. Yet there was no evidence that the creature had attacked the boat. It had merely followed in the wake of the official vessel without even colliding with it.

“Could the boats have simply sunk?”
“Both vessels are the largest on this river. There’s almost no chance they’d capsize from wind and waves alone.”

Pa Jomun lowered his voice.

“That leaves one reason they haven’t returned on time.”

Jangseong waited for him to continue.

“Someone stopped those boats on the river.”

The river wind pressed hard against the sail.
Snap!
The taut rope sang across the deck.
Jangseong looked downriver.
The smooth waters he had known until now no longer appeared the same.

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