Episode 1: Winter Sanjo and Icicle Eaves

Episode 1: Winter Sanjo and Icicle Eaves The bitter cold wind of the winter solstice New Year was like a blade that I had never learned the feeling of mercy in the first place. Around the eve of the lunar year, when the boundary between heaven and earth was completely buried in lead-colored snow, the foothills of Chilsan Village in Namwon-gol, Jeolla-do, located beneath the rugged ridge of the Baekdudaegan Mountain Range, were frozen silently like a huge silver tomb due to the snowstorm that had been pouring down non-stop for several days. All life in the world held its breath, and even the strong ford in the valley crawled under the bluish ice, letting out only a dull scream.

People called this harsh night simply a cold winter night, but those who knew the legends of distant countries in the West would have known that this night was Christmas Eve, the night when the most sacred and strange miracle of the year occurred. However, for the poor people of Joseon's eight provinces, whose skin was torn apart by hunger and cold, Christmas was merely a punishment for surviving one more night without freezing to death. The view that started with the drone shot looked over the entire village. The whale-back-like tile roofs of the noble family towered majestically as if covered in pure white cotton blankets, and the thatched roofs of the poor people huddled miserably along the stream below, unfolding in extreme light and shade.

In the sky, rough snow fell in a whirlwind, like dry salt scattered in the air. The thick branches of the century-old Zelkova tree in Seonangdang screamed, unable to withstand the weight of the snow. Whoops - boom! The frozen branches broke and the piles of dry snow exploded white into the air. Through the white dust, the camera quickly zoomed in as if falling, digging into the eaves of a thatched-roof house that barely managed to survive without falling on the lowest, wettest streambed in the village. The end of the eaves captured in a macro shot.

Rotten straw water trickled down and hardened into murky yellow-brown icicles, hanging upside down like sharp daggers. In the transparent cross section of a huge icicle that looked to be about two feet long, the texture of the cold winter wind was stuffed like a fossil. Drop... drop... Maybe it was the warmth of the rays of sunlight barely reaching under the eaves, but a cold drop of water fell from the edge of the ice. The place where the water droplet fell was not a warm ondol room. It was a gap in the cracked wood of an old veranda that had been lined with broken tiles, and the cold ground was exposed underneath the gap.

This was the residence of Park Heung-bu, the poorest and saddest man in Chilsan Village. Heungbu (28 years old) was sitting blankly on the edge of the floor. He was a strong, thick-boned man with a height of 183 centimeters, but he had not chewed even a single grain of millet properly for several months, so his broad shoulders stood out bony under his tattered linen clothes. His hands were big and thick, twice those of an average person. I worked as a laborer for other people's homes all year round, and in the winter, because I dug up frozen ground and hauled firewood, my knuckles were as hard and lumpy as thick kudzu roots.

But now, those rough hands were shaking uncontrollably, like trembling aspen trees, in the freezing wind of -15 degrees Celsius. The skin on the back of my hand was dead and bluish from cold frostbite, and black crusts were sitting in every crevice of the rough cracked skin. It wasn't just because of the cold. It was because the faint crying sound coming from inside the room felt as if his heart had been cut down with an axe.

“Ugh… Ugh…”

The cry of my youngest son, who was not even one year old, was already hoarse and sounded like the sound of a deflating bellows. The suckling baby, which was clinging to its mother's dry breast, which was only oozing blood and pus due to lack of milk, was becoming exhausted as it could not endure the hunger and cold. “Honey… Maybe it’s good… My youngest is breathing harder… His body feels like ice…”

The sound of his wife's sobbing coming from inside the room tore Heungbu's heart to pieces. I couldn't even remember the last time I lit a fire in a single room. The field was already frozen solid, no different from the ice in Siberia, and the seven young children were shivering, tangled together like dogs, pulling each other under a tattered cotton blanket. The children's lips were already turning pale, and cold tear stains were frozen on their cheeks, creating white salt. Heungbu looked down at his trembling palms. In his hand was an old ceramic rice bowl with all its teeth missing.

There wasn't even a single grain of rice or a piece of scorched rice left in the bowl. There were only a few buds that fell from the eaves, fell to the cold porcelain floor, and were melting away in the man's sad sighs. Square, square. The sound of snowflakes hitting an empty bowl sounded like the song of the Grim Reaper laughing at Heungbu's incompetence.

“I... I became the father... I starved my babies to death...”

The veins bulging out from the back of Heungbu’s thick neck. Thick teardrops fell from his eyes and fell onto the cold empty bowl. The tears froze as soon as they touched the ceramic bowl, forming a thin film of ice. The cold of this winter was so cruel and merciless that even the man's bloody tears could not be melted. Heungbu slowly raised his head and looked at the village hill in the distance. There, the huge mansion of his older brother, Nolbu, who held all the wealth and power of Chilsan Village in one hand, stood like a fortress. Ninety-nine square high gate.

Imposing statues of masters stood on either side of the high, red-painted gate, and under the eaves of the gate, Cheongsa lanterns and colorful red lanterns hung in clusters, making the midwinter darkness as bright as day. Beyond the wall of Nolbu's house, the smell of grilling meat and oily pancakes had been wafting through the wind throughout Chilsan Village for several days now. It is said that yesterday, Nolbu gathered dignitaries and great merchants from Hanyang and held a grand winter solstice banquet. Rumors spread throughout the neighborhood that they slaughtered pigs, slaughtered cows, made dozens of barrels of silk liquor, drank it, and played music.

Contrast of the Village. The camera moved gently tracking along the narrow and dark alleys of Chilsan Village. The streamside area where Heungbu's house was located was immersed in pitch darkness without a single streetlight, and one of the village's skeletal yellow bugs was rummaging through a pile of garbage in search of food, but was startled by the sight of someone and ran away. The earthen walls of each house were cracked, with rice straw sticking out, and the window paper was torn to shreds, allowing the bitter north wind to blow into the room without hesitation.

As I passed through the valley of darkness and climbed up the hill, the scenery that came out beyond the wall of Nolbu’s house was a completely different world. Hundreds of wax candles danced in golden waves beyond the large, ornate glass windows. The soothing tunes of the gayageum and haegeum, as well as the sound of boisterous laughter as people clinked glasses, echoed through the snow-covered fence and into the night sky. They were biological brothers who inherited the same blood from their parents. Just three years ago, before my father passed away, the two were brothers who ate under the same roof.

However, the vast fields, houses, and treasures of gold and silver left by his parents became Nolbu's sole possession for the sole reason of being the eldest son. As soon as his father closed his eyes, Nolbu kicked out his younger brother Heungbu's family with his bare hands before the three-day market. “You have no inheritance to share! Why are you feeding so many mouths that you have created with my rice? Get out of this house right now!”

The night that Nolbu was kicked out, beaten by servants with sticks and shouted heartlessly, was a winter night with a fierce snowstorm, just like today. From that day on, Heungbu never once complained or visited his brother. He pledged that he would dig the ground with his own hands and sweat to feed his family. But the sky was indifferent. Last summer's severe drought and fall's floods strangled the tenant farmers, and Nolbu, the landowner, collected harsh rents and usury and took away even the last crest of Heungbune. The children's cries in the room began to subside. It wasn't sleep. It was a sign that he was losing consciousness due to extreme cold and exhaustion. “Honey… what should I do… I can’t hear the third guy breathing… my hands are cold…”

His wife's scream, almost like a scream, penetrated the crack in the window paper and hit Heungbu's ears. Heungbu jumped up from his seat. There was no time to delay any longer. Face, pride, and past oaths had no meaning in front of the lives of their children. Regardless of whether I was kneed by my brother, trampled like a dog, or slapped, I had to get at least a handful of rice or millet. I had to pour at least a sip of rice down the throats of my dying children. “I... I will come back.”

Heungbu’s voice was cracked. He wore old straw sandals that had been left lying under the floor. The straw shoes were already worn and worn down so that the bottom was almost open, and ice water seeped right through the cracks in the straw. The pain felt as if the tip of his toe had been cut with a knife, but Heungbu did not blink. He put a broken porcelain rice bowl in his belt, adjusted the collar of his single-ply hemp jacket, and went out the private gate. Sigh-

The rusty hinge screamed. As soon as he stepped out the door, the biting northwest wind struck Heungbu’s chest. The blizzard mercilessly blocked Heungbu's eyes, nose, and mouth like a ferocious beast. White frost instantly covered his short beard and eyebrows. Heungbu narrowed his eyes and took a step toward the hill. Deep snow that sinks your feet. Heungbu's heavy breathing billowed out into the air like white smoke as he waded through the snow, which was up to the knees of an adult. Haha... haha... Red blood stains were dotted behind his footprints.

The blood flowing from the frostbitten heels was seeping into the cold snow, leaving red dots. But Heungbu did not stop walking. There was only one thing in my mind: the faces of my children, who were pale and gasping for breath in the room. 'Hang in there just a little while, father... father will get rice... so please don't close your eyes...'

His earnest prayers were scattered in the swirling snowstorm and flew into the air. At that time, the main house of Nolbu’s mansion on the hill. Despite the -15-degree cold outside, the floor of the main house’s ondol room was boiling as firewood was piled generously. A red silk cushion was spread in the middle of a large room surrounded by gorgeous mother-of-pearl cabinets and a folding screen of the Ten Symbols of Longevity, and Nolbu (26 years old) sat on it with his legs crossed arrogantly. Despite his young age of 26, Nolbu was already reigning as the richest man in Namwon-gol. Although he was 178 centimeters tall and had a charming appearance, there was not even a trace of humanity or warmth on his face.

White and smooth skin, high and sharp cheekbones, a jawline as angled as a knife, and above all, cold and calculating dark brown eyes like a poisonous snake stalking its prey. At the end of his thin lips was a cynical sneer that always seemed to be looking down on the world. Nolbu was wearing a silk robe made of the finest jade-colored silk. The peony flower pattern elaborately embroidered with silver and gold thread shimmered subtly on the end of the collar and sleeves of the coat, and on the waist, a precious white jade jade shimmered brightly. In front of him was a table filled with all kinds of rich food piled up like a mountain.

A silver tray was filled with tender boiled pork with a hint of steam, braised ribs sprinkled with pine nuts, golden brown fish pancakes and mung bean pancakes, and honey-glazed yugwa and Jeonggwa. Nolbu picked up a chicken leg that was slick with oil and ate it greedily. The smell of oil filled the room. Instead of wiping his oily fingers on the silk towel next to him, he simply rubbed them on the hem of the expensive silk cloth. To him, silk clothes were nothing more than common consumables that could be bought and worn whenever they wore out.

“Look! The snowstorm outside is quite strong. Have you secured the gate tightly?”

Nolbu asked in a deep, cold voice as he threw the chicken bones into the silver tray. Outside the door, servant Chunsam bowed and answered. “Yes, better! I double-barred it and locked it, and let the fierce hunting dogs loose in the yard. Even an ant won’t be able to get away.”

“Well, that’s right. On nights like this, the hungry beggars in the neighborhood tend to try to climb over the wall. If there’s a guy snooping around the wall, don’t answer questions, just break his legs and throw him into the stream.”

“Yes, I will do as you command!”

Nolbu smiled with satisfaction and pulled the huge ebony abacus next to him. His sharp fingers began flicking the abacus balls brilliantly. Crack! Ta-ta-ta-dak! Click! The sound was regular and cold, like the needle of a cold measuring instrument that converts the weight of the soul into money. “This year, the income from rent in Chilsan Village is 3,000 seok, and the interest on Jangri rice is 1,500 seok... Hehe, when the barley pass comes next spring, we will have to triple the price of rice and sell it. If we are on the verge of starvation, I will throw away the rice field document or my daughter for cheap.”

A flame of greed blazed in Nolbu’s eyes. To him, human life was just a number that could be converted into units of coins and rice isles. At that time, the sound of a strong wind and the sound of a dog barking could be heard beyond the thick paper door of the main house. Wow! Wow! Wow! Growling-! It was the sound of ferocious Taoist dogs pulling their chains taut and growling. Then, the urgent and desperate sound of fists pounding on the heavy towering gate rang out through the snowstorm. thud! thud! thud! “Brother! Brother! Are you there? It’s Heungbu! Brother, please open the door!”

The voice coming from outside the snow-covered gate was trembling slightly, torn by the wind. Nolbu's fingers suddenly stopped on the abacus ball. His eyebrows were distorted hideously. “Heungbu? How dare that bastard come here in the middle of the night and make a fuss?”

Nolbu threw his chopsticks on the table and clicked his tongue in frustration. The servants who went out into the yard looked outside through the gap in the gate and ran hurriedly into the main house. "I'll be better! Heungbu's master... No, Heungbu is kneeling in the snow and wailing. The children are starving to death, and he's begging for just one grain of rice."

A mean cynicism spread across Nolbu's face. “Jeokseon? Why are you giving my precious grain to that lazy bastard? If you have many children, you will have to feed them with all your might, where can you beg!”

Nolbu put on a silk fur bag and walked out to the veranda with great strides. The cold snowy wind outside passed by his face, but he didn't feel the cold thanks to the strong soju he had just drank. He approached the front door. The small side window of the front door creaked open. Through the side window, Heungbu's miserable face was revealed, buried in the snow. Heungbu was kneeling without even his clothes on properly. More than two inches of white snow had already piled up on his head and shoulders, and his face was covered in mud and bloody tears. When Heungbu saw his brother's face appear through the side window, he prayed with both hands, his face covered in tears, as if he had met his savior. “Brother! Oh, brother! Please... please save me just once!”

Heungbu’s voice was a scream. "The youngest... the youngest is not breathing. The children have not been able to drink a sip of water for three days and are freezing to death. Brother, I don't want anything else. Even the husks scattered in the yard or the crumbs of scorched paper are fine. Just a handful of rice so that they can get just one sip of rice down their throats... Please give them just a handful of rice!"

Heungbu bowed, pounding his forehead as if it were being crushed by the frozen snow. His forehead was torn and red blood spread across the cold snow. But Nolbu’s cold eyes showed no signs of agitation. In fact, a more contemptuous and disgusting light flashed in his eyes than when he was looking at a beggar. Nolbu folded his arms and opened his mouth in a cold voice. “Did you give birth to me with my permission when you were giving birth to so many children? Do you think that the rice in my barn fell from the sky for free? It is the wealth I accumulated with my blood and sweat. You said that not even a country can relieve poverty, so why do you blame me for your laziness and incompetence!”

“Brother! Please, even if it’s only for the sake of our blood relatives…”

“Blood relatives? Ha! Do you think that just because you share blood means you get free food? I kicked you out a long time ago because I was afraid you would take away my parents’ property, and you are still brazenly trying to cross the threshold of this house?” Nolbu picked up the large rice spoon that was lying on the veranda. It was a spatula filled with cold rice and muddy water that the servants had left behind while scooping out dog food in the kitchen just moments ago. Nolbu reached out the side window and hit Heungbu, who was lying face down in the snow, with the rice scooper on the cheek. slap-! With a dull bursting sound, Heungbu's left cheek was crushed with rice and mud, along with a bluish bruise.

Heungbu fell sideways in shock. The lip burst and red blood spurted out. “You dirty beggar! Just lick the rice off my rice spoon and get the hell away! If you whine and talk nonsense in front of my front door again, I will report you to the government, give you a hundred spanks, and sell your entire family to be government concubines!” bang-! The heavy side window closed, and then the iron bar locked tightly with a clanging sound. It was a complete disconnect between prosperity and the world. Heungbu was unable to move with his cheek resting on the frozen snow field.

The blood running down his cheek, the crushed rice, and the cold snow falling from the sky all tangled together and hardened his face. What was more painful than the pain of the body was the destruction of the soul. The humiliation of being treated like an insect by the same parents who gave birth to him. And the despair of having to return empty-handed to his starving children tore his heart to pieces.

“Ugh… Ugh…!”

Heungbu slammed his fist into the snow and swallowed a silent scream. My fingernail was broken and blood was gushing out, but I couldn't feel anything. The sky was still indifferently dark, and the blizzard was piling up an endless, cold white tomb on the fallen man's back. Heungbu gritted his teeth and staggered to his feet. I couldn't fall down and die. If he died here, his wife and seven children in that thatched hut would be found cold corpses the next morning. He roughly wiped the blood and dirt from his cheek with his sleeve.

The broken porcelain rice bowl in my pocket fell to the floor and was completely shattered into pieces. A man who has even lost a vessel for begging. Heungbu picked up a broken piece of porcelain and held it tightly in his palm. Sharp fragments pierced my palm, and hot blood flowed out. That physical pain was the only anchor that kept him sane and kept him from going crazy.

“Let’s go back... home...”

Heungbu began to stagger down the hill. His legs gave out and he fell down in the snow several times, but he crawled his way through the snow. Behind him, the gorgeous candlelight of Nolbu's mansion and the sound of wind music were still echoing mockingly. The world was unfair. Some wear silk clothes, chew meat and roll around on piles of money,

Some people had to shed tears of blood because they could not feed their children even a single sip of rice, even though they worked hard to carve their bones. But in Heungbu’s heart, there was a sadness greater than resentment. 'Brother... How did you change so much... When we were children, the good brother who would lie on our mother's lap and look at the stars and smile sweetly? Where did he go... How did he become a monster who sold his soul for a few coins...'

Heungbu’s tears flowed down his frozen cheeks. When he finally reached the private gate of the thatched house, the snowstorm in the sky was swirling with even more fierce force. My wife's cries, which came out through the crack in the door, had now subsided, almost to the point where she could barely breathe. Heungbu grabbed the doorknob with trembling hands. I didn't have the courage to open the door. How can we show our children the face of an incompetent head of the household who returned empty-handed? He leaned his forehead against the threshold, shook his shoulders and sobbed. “I’m sorry… guys… don’t forgive this ugly father…”

In the deepest darkness of Chilsan Village, the night of the poor thatched-roof house deepened in despair and tears. But no one knew. Beyond the cold night sky of Christmas Eve,

The great wheel of fate that will tighten the necks of the arrogant and wipe away the tears of the poor.

No one noticed that it had quietly started spinning.