Chapter 1040: The Park Brothers

The Park brothers staggered home with bellies perfectly round, leaning against walls for support. As official slaves of the Government Office, they lived within Jeju City's walls.

The brothers had once belonged to a Jungin—Middle People—family. Their father had served as a minor military officer in the Palace Stables. Seven years ago, the current King had launched his coup to depose Gwanghaegun—the event historians would call the "Injo Restoration"—and the Park family had been caught in the purge. Their grandfather and father were beheaded. The women and children were stripped of status, reduced to official slaves, and exiled to Jeju Island.

On that brutal journey, the second-generation mistress of the Park household had died, unable to endure the hardships of the road. Only the two brothers survived, somehow struggling to Jeju Island, where they had grown to adulthood amid hunger, cold, and grinding labor.

What they called home was merely a squat hut constructed from Jeju's ubiquitous volcanic stone. Yellow mud mixed with hay filled the gaps between rocks. Thick thatch covered the roof. There was no floor inside—only bare earth. Wooden boards placed in one corner served as beds, covered with straw. An earthen hearth occupied the center of the dwelling.

The house was newly built and still damp. A faint glow of embers lingered in the hearth—starting fires was troublesome, so common folk left coals banked beneath ash. Consequently, smoke hung perpetually in the air.

A person from the twenty-first century wouldn't have tolerated a minute inside, but for the poor of this era, such dwellings were simply home.

Even this crude shelter had cost the Park brothers dearly. They had spent copper coins saved over many years bribing a petty clerk for permission to build on a plot of government land. They carried the stones themselves, mixed the yellow mud, cut the grass—building it bit by bit during precious moments of rest from herding horses and working the government fields, like swallows constructing a nest. With their own house, they no longer had to sleep in the large longhouse dormitory for official slaves inside the government compound. Only now did Park Deok-hwan have any hope of marriage. Even for official slaves, the collective dormitory was no place to wed.

As the elder brother, Park Deok-hwan was already twenty this year—unmistakably an "older youth" by the standards of ancient society. And they bore the weight of their elders' dying wishes: both their grandmother and mother had urged them to "carry on the family line," even as lowly official slaves.

The identity of Park Deok-hwan's future wife remained uncertain, but he was a man of foresight. She would almost certainly be an official maidservant from the government office. Men and women alike came of age and married—it was the natural order of things. With a house now secured, a suitable wife could surely be found.

The brothers slumped heavily onto straw mats, belching contentedly. This was the fullest and finest meal they'd eaten in over a year. Years of constant famine meant days of true satiation could be counted on one hand. Probably because of fleas or some similar pest, both scratched vigorously as they discussed Park Deok-hwan's marriage prospects.

Official slaves were essentially state property. Yet beyond the prohibitions against leaving their assigned government office and the requirement to complete assigned work on schedule, their personal lives went largely unrestricted. Marriage and children were permitted—they needed only file a report with the government office. The children of official slaves were born cheonmin—lowborn—and would continue serving the state in perpetuity.

The brothers evaluated potential brides one by one. The government office employed many maidservants. With famines plaguing the area for a decade or more, every family lacked sufficient grain. Families with daughters were eager to marry them off quickly, reducing the number of mouths to feed. Choices abounded. But the prettier women remained beyond their reach—officials at every level had long since claimed them.

"...What about Jo Seong-i? Her ancestors were originally Yangban..." Park Deok-hwan differed from his younger brother; he had been thirteen at the time of their exile, old enough to retain clear memories of their former life. He placed weight on the original status of the maidservants.

"I heard she's sickly—probably can't do heavy work," Park Deok-maeng replied. Though only fourteen, he spoke with the worldly air of an old man. "Having Yangban ancestors won't fill your belly. Besides, isn't she an official maidservant just like all the others?"

"What about Kim O-sun?"

"Too ugly. Even Master Liang from the Household Division—you know, the one who'll take anyone—won't look at her. Brother, do you really want to marry that?" Park Deok-maeng's tone turned disapproving. It was his brother getting married, but a sister-in-law too grotesque to look upon would shame him as well.

Master Liang, the Household Division clerk, was insatiable in his appetites. The truly beautiful maidservants were beyond his reach, but any woman of merely regular appearance would find herself summoned to "accompany him for wine."

"Turn off the lights and—" Park Deok-hwan was about to say "it's all the same in the dark," but the image of Kim O-sun's face rose unbidden in his mind and he couldn't suppress a shudder.

They discussed several more families' daughters, even considering young widows. Then Park Deok-maeng said suddenly:

"What about Yi Man-hui?"

"She's a Middle People daughter, and her offense was... somewhat disgraceful..." Park Deok-hwan hesitated. Yi Man-hui had only recently been exiled to the island. Word was she'd had illicit relations before marriage—an extreme scandal. Though some claimed the charge had been fabricated to strike at her family, who belonged to the Southerner faction now under attack by the Westerners.

Factional struggles in the Joseon Dynasty were extraordinarily fierce, grinding on for centuries. Their severity rivaled that of Ming Dynasty court politics and perhaps even exceeded it—yet remarkably, such intense internal strife had never brought down the kingdom. Perhaps this was the peculiar strength of Sadae ideology, the doctrine of "Serving the Great." Many of Jeju Island's official slaves were losers and victims of just such political battles.

"Brother, what does Middle People status matter? Here, she's an official slave like us. Speaking of Middle People daughters—you and I are sons of Middle People too," Park Deok-maeng pointed out.

"That's true. Once you're here, we're all lowborn." Park Deok-hwan sighed deeply. He had been a sensible teenager who had learned his characters when catastrophe struck his family. Sometimes, recalling the old days when the household had lived together in comfort, everything felt like a dream from another life.

"Since we got such good food today, let's go pay respects to our elders," Park Deok-hwan said.

Their father and grandfather had died on the execution ground in the capital. Their grandmother and mother had perished on the road, their bodies hastily buried in unknown places, becoming wandering ghosts. This haunted Park Deok-hwan more than anything else. He had studied the classics and absorbed the Confucian doctrines of filial piety. After settling somewhat on Jeju and managing to barely survive alongside his brother, he had secretly made spirit tablets. On death anniversaries and festival days, he would take them to the wilderness and offer sacrifice facing north, using only clear water and simple fare.

Having obtained rare delicacies today, he wished to fulfill his filial duty.

The city gates of Jeju were already closed, but the city was large, filled with vacant lots and wild ground. Carrying their offerings, the brothers made their way to a secluded spot near the city wall.

This area along the wall was almost entirely vegetable gardens and small woods, punctuated by occasional thatched huts, presenting a pastoral landscape. The brothers followed a narrow path up a small rise by the wall, where a grove of trees crowned the height—a quiet, hidden place. Here they usually performed their ancestral rites.

Just as they set down their offerings, several "monsters" covered in wild patterns—camouflage—burst from the bushes. The brothers nearly died of fright on the spot. Before Park Deok-hwan could scream, a hand clamped over his mouth and nose, and he was dragged to the ground, his joints locked immobile. Park Deok-maeng was knocked unconscious outright.

Xue Ziliang whistled softly, examining the two captives. Poverty was a universal language, transcending ethnicity and borders. One glance at their clothing and haggard complexions told the story.

"Interrogate them." He gestured to one of his soldiers. This man wasn't from the Special Reconnaissance Detachment but an agent from the Foreign Intelligence Bureau—a Korean translator trained specifically for the Jeju Island landing operation.

Xue Ziliang turned his attention elsewhere. From their arrival at Biyangdo by boat to reaching this point on foot, they had captured prisoners several times along the way. Most were poor commoners like these: "clothed in rags with never enough to eat" described them precisely, and these two were no exception.

Infiltrating Jeju Island had proven even easier than he'd anticipated. Though they'd found the city gates closed upon arrival, the sight of the city wall itself had genuinely shocked him.

Xue Ziliang had been stationed in South Korea for a period. But as an American, he'd taken no interest in the history and culture of the "Cosmic Empire"; his usual pastimes focused on matters decidedly below the belt. He rarely visited historical sites and paid scant attention when he did. But when the genuine, original city wall appeared before his eyes, the reality stunned him.

Damn—this counts as a city wall?

The wall, built of volcanic rocks, looked regular enough—square and upright. But its height seemed wrong no matter how you looked at it. Of course, Xue Ziliang had never seen city walls in the United States. But after spending considerable time in Hainan, he'd observed many Chinese fortifications. This Jeju wall could at best qualify as a "boundary wall"—and a low-security one at that.

He estimated from outside that the wall stood less than four meters high. Leaving height aside—after all, with the increasing use of firearms, walls were trending lower and thicker—the entire structure lacked any defensive features whatsoever. Even the battlements and parapets found atop the most desolate, backward small county towns in Hainan were completely absent here. Through his telescope, he could clearly see soldiers standing atop the wall exposed from the waist up.

Never mind rifles—even bows and arrows could easily kill defenders and suppress the wall top. As for standard city defense features like projecting towers and watchtowers, none existed on Jeju City's walls.

Against such fortifications, there was no need for any Special Reconnaissance Detachment, no need for cannons, no need even for the Fubo Army. A labor squadron armed with spears and machetes, scaling the wall with ladders and ropes, could breach it in a single charge.

Xue Ziliang didn't know that less than forty years earlier, in the late 25th year of the Wanli reign, a Ming general aiding Korea had said the following to Joseon officials:

"The commander-in-chief has declared that the fortresses of this country are like child's play."

—from the Veritable Records of King Seonjo, Volume 88. This was the Ming military's assessment of Korean fortifications following the Imjin War.

(End of Chapter)