Two For the Price of One, Ch. 6
Previously:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Disclaimer: The SKKS-verse belongs to the creators of Sungkyunkwan Scandal.
Author's Notes: At loooooong last, here's the latest chapter. I'm so sorry the update took so long - I had a lot going on IRL. There's still a lot on my plate right now, but I'm still working on this fic, so please continue to look out for it. Thank you to Anonymous for the review! :)
Chapter Six
“Wh-why are you shocked?” Iseul asked stupidly. Her cloak dropped from her nerveless fingers.
“Why wouldn't I be shocked when you are running around town dressed like this?” Yong-ha looked pointedly at the sleeve he held, then dropped it as though the worn and faded fabric had burned him.
“Oh. I-I... ah....” she stammered, groping for an excuse. Why would she be running around town dressed in old clothes? “I-I was helping with the house cleaning when I suddenly had to go out and run some errands!”
“Here in the bookshop?”
She nodded. “I've run out of interesting books to read,” she told him, her belief that the excuse was partly true adding conviction to her words.
He inspected the nearest shelf. “I didn't know that you were interested in animal husbandry,” he remarked, arching an elegant eyebrow.
“I, ah, didn't find anything I liked over there, near the front of the shop,” she improvised, “so I thought I would look at the other sections.” (Again, that was partly true!)
Suddenly, a middle-aged man in plain merchant's garb appeared in their aisle. He stopped short when he saw the pair standing there. Averting his gaze, the man peered at the books nearest him and, exclaiming in surprise over being in the wrong section, made a hasty exit.
Iseul seized the opportunity to look away from Yong-ha and busied herself with retrieving her cloak. “How did you know it was me?” she asked as she dusted it off.
“I didn't at first,” he told her. “I just happened to notice what you were wearing, then saw to my horror that it was you.”
She flushed guiltily. “I'm sorry. I didn't think I would run into anyone I knew.”
The merchant sighed, but instead of launching into a lecture on the horrors of being seen in public wearing old, ragged clothes, he said, “This is partly my fault. If I had just worked on your order faster, then you could have been wearing some of your new clothes by now.”
“Please don't think that! We agreed that you could take your time with my order, remember? I take full responsibility for this. I could have worn something else, but I was, ah, very distracted with cleaning.”
“Fortunately, the seamstresses are almost done with your test garments,” Yong-ha said, sounding relieved at the thought. “You will have your fitting soon.”
Iseul mumbled that she would be looking forward to it, apologized again, and quickly took her leave. She threw her cloak over her head to hide her face, still red from mortification. Clearly, the disguise was overdone, and she had had the ill luck to be seen in such a state by Gu Yong-ha, of all people!
Sighing, she consoled herself with the knowledge that he, at least, hadn't caused a scene. More importantly, he had caught her before she could reach the bookshop's restricted section. That would have been truly humiliating. He could have also told her grandmother, which would have made things even worse.
There was only one real drawback to the way the situation had turned out, but it was the most costly one of all: she was no nearer to getting the information she needed for Hwa-jae's latest commission.
The encounter left Yong-ha feeling similarly perturbed, although for vastly different reasons. He was still preoccupied with it the next day, when Cho-sun visited his shop to order some winter clothes.
Didn't the look of those old, worn clothes offend Iseul's artistic sensibilities? he wondered as he watched his old friend select trims for a winter cap. Couldn't the woman have stopped to change before going out?
“What do you think of this?” Cho-sun asked, laying a carved amber pendant and crimson tassel over the black brocade she had selected for her cap. “It looks just like a sunset, don't you think?”
“It's lovely,” he agreed. He spoke without really looking, although it was a safe enough thing to say. Cho-sun's own taste in dress was exquisite.
“Although I like the sky blue tassel with the amber as well. Hmm....” She picked up the other tassel and laid it alongside the red one to compare the effect and Yong-ha went back to thinking about the incident in the bookshop.
Besides the horror of seeing his “student” dressed so poorly, he was also dealing with a healthy dose of guilt over his reaction to the sight. Although it was disappointing that she did not seem to be learning anything from their lessons, that was no reason to chastise her the way he had. Wearing old clothes wasn't a crime (even though he privately believed that it should be).
Just then, Cho-sun glanced up from her tassels and gave him an inquiring look. “Pardon my saying so, but you seem a little distracted,” she observed gently. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes! Yes, everything's fine,” he assured her with false cheer. “I was just thinking about all the things I need to attend to.”
Then, with uncharacteristically poor timing, she asked, “How are your flirting lessons going?”
That promptly took the wind out of his sails. “All right, I guess. We've covered quite a bit of ground, but....” He shrugged morosely. “To be honest, I don't know if any of it is working. She's talking more, I think, but that seems to be the full extent of what she has learned.”
“Well, that's a start, isn't it?” the former gisaeng pointed out. “Your student probably just needs more time to put everything into practice. Even though the late King Jeong-jo decreed that we now live in a new Joseon, it's still very difficult for a woman to act more confidently without being thought of as too forward.
“Or perhaps,” she added pensively, “she isn't making as much progress because we haven't taught her things that she would actually find useful.”
“But we were so careful to think of lessons that would be relevant in any situation,” Yong-ha protested. “Conversation, personal grooming... how are these not useful?”
“Perhaps a, shall we say, more targeted approach is in order? Your student might need lessons on how to attract a particular kind of man. What kind of man does she like?”
He frowned, thinking hard. “I honestly don't know,” he admitted finally. “I haven't heard anything from her or her grandmother, not about her liking anyone or any man paying court to her.”
“Then perhaps you should ask her,” she concluded, removing the blue tassel and nodding approvingly at her amber-and-red combination. “The beauty of these lessons is that, unlike those that you might study at Sungkyunkwan, they can be tailored to her needs, the way clothes can be tailored to a person.”
“Yes, maybe I should,” Yong-ha agreed, even though thinking more and more about the idea made him like it less and less.
As Cho-sun set about selecting trims for her daughter's cap, he thought uncharitably that he would not be surprised if Iseul's theoretical suitor turned out to be a dreadful bore. He would have to be, to fall for an impression such as the one Iseul had presented when she and Yong-ha first met, and might not fully appreciate the spirit that she now occasionally allowed to show. If that man, whoever he was, would not allow her to be truly herself, then the flirting lessons-and all of Yong-ha's hard work-would be wasted.
He sighed. Given his luck, before teaching her anything more about flirting, he would have to teach Iseul how to choose a man first.
As if his day weren't bad enough, Yong-ha arrived at home that evening to be informed that his father wanted to see him.
Ordinarily, he received such summons whenever he had done something stupid or, worse, costly. As he made his way to the study where Master Gu spent most of his time at home, he tried to recall whether he had done anything of the sort recently. To the best of his knowledge, he had not.
He rapped on the study door to announce his presence before entering. “I'm home, Abeonim,” he greeted the older man, who was seated as usual behind a desk piled with papers. Yong-ha's hyung, seated in his own customary place at their father's right hand, gave him a smile of greeting.
Master Gu grunted and motioned for his younger son to sit down. Yong-ha did so, feeling very much like a criminal being brought to trial before the magistrate. An-jeong's smile had yielded no clues as to why they were having this meeting. “You, er, wanted to see me?” he began.
“I wouldn't have told the servants to tell you to come here if I didn't,” his father pointed out, taking one last look at the document he had been reading and setting it aside. “Do you have any appointments tomorrow afternoon?”
He thought for a moment. “No, Abeonim. A client was supposed to come to the shop, but she canceled. Why do you ask?”
“I'm meeting with some of your uncles tomorrow afternoon. I suppose you would want to speak with them about this chamber of commerce business.”
“I would very much like to.” He bowed low to hide his excitement. Thus far, he had been campaigning mostly among his fellow merchants, the artisans, and the laborers they employed. He hadn't had much of a chance to plead his case with men of his father's level. “Thank you, Abeonim.”
“Your brother suggested that it would be best for you to actually talk to them,” Master Gu went on gruffly. “We've tried to explain why they should vote for you, but they're asking some rather difficult questions.” He broke off and scowled at his younger son. “Close your mouth. You look like a fish.”
Yong-ha blinked and struggled to regain his composure. “I-I was just surprised that you've been campaigning for me,” he admitted, and bowed again. “Thank you both very much.”
“We heard that Ma Ki-hoon was doing his best to win over the richest chungin,” An-jeong told him with a grin. “Of course, we weren't going to take that lying down.”
“I figured it would help to have a contact in that chamber of commerce thing, if it turns out to be useful,” their father said, turning back to his documents. “You're not going to embarrass me in front of my friends, are you?”
“I won't, Abeonim, I promise,” Yong-ha assured him. “I have very clear ideas of what I would like the chamber of commerce to do and how it can benefit everyone engaged in trade. I've discussed these plans many times, with many people in town. I think I'm quite prepared to face my uncles.”
His father grunted and raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, but An-jeong was quick to smooth over the situation. “I don't think we have any cause to worry, Abeonim,” he said, and chuckled. “You know what my brother is like when he wants something.”
At their next meeting, Iseul was pleased to see Yong-ha in a much better mood. She had feared that the prospect of a fitting would remind him of what she had worn the last time they saw each other and make him angry all over again; instead, the merchant was his usual cheerful self, joking and paying outrageous compliments to her grandmother and Chae-mi, who was accompanying them that day.
“This is when the real fun begins,” he announced when the niceties had been observed. “Although the test garments are not as finished as proper ones might be, they will give us an idea of what the finished product will look like on the body. We'll check the fit and make any adjustments, if necessary, to ensure that the finished product will be comfortable as well as flattering.”
Once again, Iseul was taken to the back room, where a female servant helped her change into the “test” garments. The skirt and jeogori were made of unbleached cotton and lacked any sort of ornamentation, but their plainness only served to highlight their elegant cut, a testament to Yong-ha's masterful eye and the skill of his seamstresses.
As the daughter of a potter, Chae-mi could appreciate this as well. “Feel this, Halmeonim!” she said, guiding Madam Park's hand along the underside of one sleeve. “Isn't that a beautiful curve?”
“Very nice,” the old woman agreed as her fingers traced the bold arch. “But how does it look, Iseul?”
“I think it looks just right, Halmeonim,” her granddaughter assured her. The curve of the sleeve was more pronounced than what she was accustomed to wearing, but the proportions of the garment remained in balance. “Here, you can still feel my arm, can't you? The sleeve isn't too big. And the skirt is the same way. It flares very nicely-do you feel that?-but the shape still looks very natural.”
Madam Park patted Iseul's hips. “Yes, it's not too wide,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Now, what about the length of your jeogori? Is it not too short? Yong-ha said something about the new styles being very short.”
She stiffened when her grandmother reached up to make sure that her bosom wasn't exposed. “No, Halmeonim. I'm still very properly covered.”
Fitting the garments with a man in the room was highly embarrassing, but Yong-ha was apparently accustomed to observing-and participating in-such proceedings. Without showing the least bit of self-consciousness, he explained his design decisions to Iseul and her grandmother, and checked the fit with a critical eye. Fortunately, he didn't need to look at her too closely and the only adjustment required was a minor one to the shoulders of the jeogori. Nevertheless, Iseul was relieved to be back in her old clothes and the women could then turn their attention to the more interesting business of choosing fabrics for the actual hanbok.
“We've set aside some possibilities based on Teacher Kim's drawings,” Yong-ha told them as his staff brought out bolts of cloth in all sorts of intriguing colors, “but of course the final choice will be hers.”
The younger women's eyes widened at the array. “They're all so beautiful,” Chae-mi breathed.
“What colors are they?” Madam Park asked.
Iseul found her voice. “Red, Halmeonim...and orange and amber...and everything in between. The colors of fire.”
He noted the faintest twitch in his client's fingers and smiled. “Please feel free to touch,” he told her. “You will need to choose your fabrics for weight and texture, as well as color.”
The ladies did not need to be told twice. After considerately making sure their hands were clean, they proceeded to test the fabrics to their hearts' content, oohing and aahing over the richness of the brocades, exclaiming over the delicacy of some of the silks, and presenting their favorites for Madam Park's consideration.
“Are there any that you particularly like?” Yong-ha asked after they had gone through most of the possibilities.
“This crimson silk with the pale bronze looks interesting,” Iseul said, laying the bolts of fabric side by side before him. “What do you think?”
“Very distinctive,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Anything else?”
She hesitated. “Well... I think one fancy hanbok in silk will do for now. However, I want to order a few things made of sturdier material, especially now that the weather has turned. Could I wear some of these for every day?”
“Every day?” Yong-ha repeated, his heart sinking at the thought of his creations being worn to scrub floors and clean house. He still had nightmares about her dressed as she had been at Hwang's, but this was taking things a bit too far in the other direction!
Fortunately, Madam Park was quick to clarify matters. “'Every day' means when she gives her painting lessons,” the old woman explained. “Iseul needs to look her best when she goes to the chungins' homes to teach. Her good clothes see quite a bit of use.”
“Ah, of course!” he said, brightening again. “Well, for colder weather, you will naturally need heavier material, such as brocade or satin, for your clothes. And, if I may suggest, perhaps some darker-but still rich-colors?”
That led to even more bolts of cloth being brought out for consideration. Although she remained drawn to warm reds and oranges for some very personal reasons, Iseul couldn't help but delight in the jewel tones of blue, green, and purple. After much deliberation, she chose two brocades (plum and deep jade) for skirts, and a heavy silk (deep blue) for a jeogori.
“They're not too dark, are they?” Madam Park asked. “I wouldn't want Iseul to wear very dark colors. She is still quite young.”
“They're not too dark, Halmeonim,” Chae-mi told her. “They're beautiful! And what's even better is that they also go well with the silks that she ordered earlier.”
“Yes, please don't worry, Halmeonim,” Yong-ha added. “The colors are a little muted, which is appropriate for the attire of a teacher, but still very fashionable.”
Iseul left them to reassure her grandmother and gazed out the nearest window, which had been left open to let in fresh air. She had enjoyed the fitting and fabric selection very much, but now the distraction was gone and she was back to worrying about her continued lack of inspiration for Hwa-jae's latest commission.
She was highly tempted to turn down the order, even at this late date. It would be a blow to her pride as well as to her purse, but she also hated the idea of producing a low-quality (and possibly also completely inaccurate) painting just for the money. Hwa-jae's reputation would be ruined.
Suddenly, there was a loud commotion outside. A crowd of people was moving slowly down the street, egging on a pair of laborers who towed a heavily laden cart in the place of oxen. There was a shout as a wheel got stuck in a rut, forcing one man to push the cart from behind while his partner continued to pull.
Through a gap in the throng, Iseul glimpsed the man working on the front of the cart. He wasn't tall, handsome, or particularly clean, but it was clear that he was very strong. The ropes of muscle in his arms, bare despite the cold, stood out in stark relief as he strained to pull the cart free.
She studied the lines of the laborer's arm, thinking that it would be something interesting to sketch later, when the limb in her imagination wrapped itself around something-something softer and more rounded, for contrast....
Her breath caught as she realized that Hwa-jae could fill that problematic order with a painting of a lovers' embrace. It would be a clever way of hiding the male figure; in fact, wouldn't it be interesting if the female figure were more prominently positioned?
It took a while for the voices to filter into her thoughts. “Teacher Kim?” “Ya, Iseul-ah!” “What's going on?”
She blinked and realized that the others in the room were looking at her quizzically. “Is everything all right, dear?” her grandmother asked, brow furrowed with concern as she gazed in her general direction.
“Oh, yes, Halmeonim!” she replied, feeling her face grow warm. “I was just, ah, lost in thought for a while.”
“You were so lost that we weren't sure if we would ever find you again!” her friend teased.
Yong-ha watched Iseul drop her gaze with an embarrassed little laugh, but said nothing. The unfocused look in her eyes, delicate blush, and softness around her mouth... he had seen that expression before, but never on a woman who lived a chaste existence with her blind grandmother and needed lessons to even look a man in the eye.
He glanced at her one last time before turning to a waiting servant with a request to clear away the fabrics excluded from Iseul's order. If he didn't know her better, he would think that she had been lost in some very naughty thoughts.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Disclaimer: The SKKS-verse belongs to the creators of Sungkyunkwan Scandal.
Author's Notes: At loooooong last, here's the latest chapter. I'm so sorry the update took so long - I had a lot going on IRL. There's still a lot on my plate right now, but I'm still working on this fic, so please continue to look out for it. Thank you to Anonymous for the review! :)
Chapter Six
“Wh-why are you shocked?” Iseul asked stupidly. Her cloak dropped from her nerveless fingers.
“Why wouldn't I be shocked when you are running around town dressed like this?” Yong-ha looked pointedly at the sleeve he held, then dropped it as though the worn and faded fabric had burned him.
“Oh. I-I... ah....” she stammered, groping for an excuse. Why would she be running around town dressed in old clothes? “I-I was helping with the house cleaning when I suddenly had to go out and run some errands!”
“Here in the bookshop?”
She nodded. “I've run out of interesting books to read,” she told him, her belief that the excuse was partly true adding conviction to her words.
He inspected the nearest shelf. “I didn't know that you were interested in animal husbandry,” he remarked, arching an elegant eyebrow.
“I, ah, didn't find anything I liked over there, near the front of the shop,” she improvised, “so I thought I would look at the other sections.” (Again, that was partly true!)
Suddenly, a middle-aged man in plain merchant's garb appeared in their aisle. He stopped short when he saw the pair standing there. Averting his gaze, the man peered at the books nearest him and, exclaiming in surprise over being in the wrong section, made a hasty exit.
Iseul seized the opportunity to look away from Yong-ha and busied herself with retrieving her cloak. “How did you know it was me?” she asked as she dusted it off.
“I didn't at first,” he told her. “I just happened to notice what you were wearing, then saw to my horror that it was you.”
She flushed guiltily. “I'm sorry. I didn't think I would run into anyone I knew.”
The merchant sighed, but instead of launching into a lecture on the horrors of being seen in public wearing old, ragged clothes, he said, “This is partly my fault. If I had just worked on your order faster, then you could have been wearing some of your new clothes by now.”
“Please don't think that! We agreed that you could take your time with my order, remember? I take full responsibility for this. I could have worn something else, but I was, ah, very distracted with cleaning.”
“Fortunately, the seamstresses are almost done with your test garments,” Yong-ha said, sounding relieved at the thought. “You will have your fitting soon.”
Iseul mumbled that she would be looking forward to it, apologized again, and quickly took her leave. She threw her cloak over her head to hide her face, still red from mortification. Clearly, the disguise was overdone, and she had had the ill luck to be seen in such a state by Gu Yong-ha, of all people!
Sighing, she consoled herself with the knowledge that he, at least, hadn't caused a scene. More importantly, he had caught her before she could reach the bookshop's restricted section. That would have been truly humiliating. He could have also told her grandmother, which would have made things even worse.
There was only one real drawback to the way the situation had turned out, but it was the most costly one of all: she was no nearer to getting the information she needed for Hwa-jae's latest commission.
The encounter left Yong-ha feeling similarly perturbed, although for vastly different reasons. He was still preoccupied with it the next day, when Cho-sun visited his shop to order some winter clothes.
Didn't the look of those old, worn clothes offend Iseul's artistic sensibilities? he wondered as he watched his old friend select trims for a winter cap. Couldn't the woman have stopped to change before going out?
“What do you think of this?” Cho-sun asked, laying a carved amber pendant and crimson tassel over the black brocade she had selected for her cap. “It looks just like a sunset, don't you think?”
“It's lovely,” he agreed. He spoke without really looking, although it was a safe enough thing to say. Cho-sun's own taste in dress was exquisite.
“Although I like the sky blue tassel with the amber as well. Hmm....” She picked up the other tassel and laid it alongside the red one to compare the effect and Yong-ha went back to thinking about the incident in the bookshop.
Besides the horror of seeing his “student” dressed so poorly, he was also dealing with a healthy dose of guilt over his reaction to the sight. Although it was disappointing that she did not seem to be learning anything from their lessons, that was no reason to chastise her the way he had. Wearing old clothes wasn't a crime (even though he privately believed that it should be).
Just then, Cho-sun glanced up from her tassels and gave him an inquiring look. “Pardon my saying so, but you seem a little distracted,” she observed gently. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes! Yes, everything's fine,” he assured her with false cheer. “I was just thinking about all the things I need to attend to.”
Then, with uncharacteristically poor timing, she asked, “How are your flirting lessons going?”
That promptly took the wind out of his sails. “All right, I guess. We've covered quite a bit of ground, but....” He shrugged morosely. “To be honest, I don't know if any of it is working. She's talking more, I think, but that seems to be the full extent of what she has learned.”
“Well, that's a start, isn't it?” the former gisaeng pointed out. “Your student probably just needs more time to put everything into practice. Even though the late King Jeong-jo decreed that we now live in a new Joseon, it's still very difficult for a woman to act more confidently without being thought of as too forward.
“Or perhaps,” she added pensively, “she isn't making as much progress because we haven't taught her things that she would actually find useful.”
“But we were so careful to think of lessons that would be relevant in any situation,” Yong-ha protested. “Conversation, personal grooming... how are these not useful?”
“Perhaps a, shall we say, more targeted approach is in order? Your student might need lessons on how to attract a particular kind of man. What kind of man does she like?”
He frowned, thinking hard. “I honestly don't know,” he admitted finally. “I haven't heard anything from her or her grandmother, not about her liking anyone or any man paying court to her.”
“Then perhaps you should ask her,” she concluded, removing the blue tassel and nodding approvingly at her amber-and-red combination. “The beauty of these lessons is that, unlike those that you might study at Sungkyunkwan, they can be tailored to her needs, the way clothes can be tailored to a person.”
“Yes, maybe I should,” Yong-ha agreed, even though thinking more and more about the idea made him like it less and less.
As Cho-sun set about selecting trims for her daughter's cap, he thought uncharitably that he would not be surprised if Iseul's theoretical suitor turned out to be a dreadful bore. He would have to be, to fall for an impression such as the one Iseul had presented when she and Yong-ha first met, and might not fully appreciate the spirit that she now occasionally allowed to show. If that man, whoever he was, would not allow her to be truly herself, then the flirting lessons-and all of Yong-ha's hard work-would be wasted.
He sighed. Given his luck, before teaching her anything more about flirting, he would have to teach Iseul how to choose a man first.
As if his day weren't bad enough, Yong-ha arrived at home that evening to be informed that his father wanted to see him.
Ordinarily, he received such summons whenever he had done something stupid or, worse, costly. As he made his way to the study where Master Gu spent most of his time at home, he tried to recall whether he had done anything of the sort recently. To the best of his knowledge, he had not.
He rapped on the study door to announce his presence before entering. “I'm home, Abeonim,” he greeted the older man, who was seated as usual behind a desk piled with papers. Yong-ha's hyung, seated in his own customary place at their father's right hand, gave him a smile of greeting.
Master Gu grunted and motioned for his younger son to sit down. Yong-ha did so, feeling very much like a criminal being brought to trial before the magistrate. An-jeong's smile had yielded no clues as to why they were having this meeting. “You, er, wanted to see me?” he began.
“I wouldn't have told the servants to tell you to come here if I didn't,” his father pointed out, taking one last look at the document he had been reading and setting it aside. “Do you have any appointments tomorrow afternoon?”
He thought for a moment. “No, Abeonim. A client was supposed to come to the shop, but she canceled. Why do you ask?”
“I'm meeting with some of your uncles tomorrow afternoon. I suppose you would want to speak with them about this chamber of commerce business.”
“I would very much like to.” He bowed low to hide his excitement. Thus far, he had been campaigning mostly among his fellow merchants, the artisans, and the laborers they employed. He hadn't had much of a chance to plead his case with men of his father's level. “Thank you, Abeonim.”
“Your brother suggested that it would be best for you to actually talk to them,” Master Gu went on gruffly. “We've tried to explain why they should vote for you, but they're asking some rather difficult questions.” He broke off and scowled at his younger son. “Close your mouth. You look like a fish.”
Yong-ha blinked and struggled to regain his composure. “I-I was just surprised that you've been campaigning for me,” he admitted, and bowed again. “Thank you both very much.”
“We heard that Ma Ki-hoon was doing his best to win over the richest chungin,” An-jeong told him with a grin. “Of course, we weren't going to take that lying down.”
“I figured it would help to have a contact in that chamber of commerce thing, if it turns out to be useful,” their father said, turning back to his documents. “You're not going to embarrass me in front of my friends, are you?”
“I won't, Abeonim, I promise,” Yong-ha assured him. “I have very clear ideas of what I would like the chamber of commerce to do and how it can benefit everyone engaged in trade. I've discussed these plans many times, with many people in town. I think I'm quite prepared to face my uncles.”
His father grunted and raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, but An-jeong was quick to smooth over the situation. “I don't think we have any cause to worry, Abeonim,” he said, and chuckled. “You know what my brother is like when he wants something.”
At their next meeting, Iseul was pleased to see Yong-ha in a much better mood. She had feared that the prospect of a fitting would remind him of what she had worn the last time they saw each other and make him angry all over again; instead, the merchant was his usual cheerful self, joking and paying outrageous compliments to her grandmother and Chae-mi, who was accompanying them that day.
“This is when the real fun begins,” he announced when the niceties had been observed. “Although the test garments are not as finished as proper ones might be, they will give us an idea of what the finished product will look like on the body. We'll check the fit and make any adjustments, if necessary, to ensure that the finished product will be comfortable as well as flattering.”
Once again, Iseul was taken to the back room, where a female servant helped her change into the “test” garments. The skirt and jeogori were made of unbleached cotton and lacked any sort of ornamentation, but their plainness only served to highlight their elegant cut, a testament to Yong-ha's masterful eye and the skill of his seamstresses.
As the daughter of a potter, Chae-mi could appreciate this as well. “Feel this, Halmeonim!” she said, guiding Madam Park's hand along the underside of one sleeve. “Isn't that a beautiful curve?”
“Very nice,” the old woman agreed as her fingers traced the bold arch. “But how does it look, Iseul?”
“I think it looks just right, Halmeonim,” her granddaughter assured her. The curve of the sleeve was more pronounced than what she was accustomed to wearing, but the proportions of the garment remained in balance. “Here, you can still feel my arm, can't you? The sleeve isn't too big. And the skirt is the same way. It flares very nicely-do you feel that?-but the shape still looks very natural.”
Madam Park patted Iseul's hips. “Yes, it's not too wide,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Now, what about the length of your jeogori? Is it not too short? Yong-ha said something about the new styles being very short.”
She stiffened when her grandmother reached up to make sure that her bosom wasn't exposed. “No, Halmeonim. I'm still very properly covered.”
Fitting the garments with a man in the room was highly embarrassing, but Yong-ha was apparently accustomed to observing-and participating in-such proceedings. Without showing the least bit of self-consciousness, he explained his design decisions to Iseul and her grandmother, and checked the fit with a critical eye. Fortunately, he didn't need to look at her too closely and the only adjustment required was a minor one to the shoulders of the jeogori. Nevertheless, Iseul was relieved to be back in her old clothes and the women could then turn their attention to the more interesting business of choosing fabrics for the actual hanbok.
“We've set aside some possibilities based on Teacher Kim's drawings,” Yong-ha told them as his staff brought out bolts of cloth in all sorts of intriguing colors, “but of course the final choice will be hers.”
The younger women's eyes widened at the array. “They're all so beautiful,” Chae-mi breathed.
“What colors are they?” Madam Park asked.
Iseul found her voice. “Red, Halmeonim...and orange and amber...and everything in between. The colors of fire.”
He noted the faintest twitch in his client's fingers and smiled. “Please feel free to touch,” he told her. “You will need to choose your fabrics for weight and texture, as well as color.”
The ladies did not need to be told twice. After considerately making sure their hands were clean, they proceeded to test the fabrics to their hearts' content, oohing and aahing over the richness of the brocades, exclaiming over the delicacy of some of the silks, and presenting their favorites for Madam Park's consideration.
“Are there any that you particularly like?” Yong-ha asked after they had gone through most of the possibilities.
“This crimson silk with the pale bronze looks interesting,” Iseul said, laying the bolts of fabric side by side before him. “What do you think?”
“Very distinctive,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Anything else?”
She hesitated. “Well... I think one fancy hanbok in silk will do for now. However, I want to order a few things made of sturdier material, especially now that the weather has turned. Could I wear some of these for every day?”
“Every day?” Yong-ha repeated, his heart sinking at the thought of his creations being worn to scrub floors and clean house. He still had nightmares about her dressed as she had been at Hwang's, but this was taking things a bit too far in the other direction!
Fortunately, Madam Park was quick to clarify matters. “'Every day' means when she gives her painting lessons,” the old woman explained. “Iseul needs to look her best when she goes to the chungins' homes to teach. Her good clothes see quite a bit of use.”
“Ah, of course!” he said, brightening again. “Well, for colder weather, you will naturally need heavier material, such as brocade or satin, for your clothes. And, if I may suggest, perhaps some darker-but still rich-colors?”
That led to even more bolts of cloth being brought out for consideration. Although she remained drawn to warm reds and oranges for some very personal reasons, Iseul couldn't help but delight in the jewel tones of blue, green, and purple. After much deliberation, she chose two brocades (plum and deep jade) for skirts, and a heavy silk (deep blue) for a jeogori.
“They're not too dark, are they?” Madam Park asked. “I wouldn't want Iseul to wear very dark colors. She is still quite young.”
“They're not too dark, Halmeonim,” Chae-mi told her. “They're beautiful! And what's even better is that they also go well with the silks that she ordered earlier.”
“Yes, please don't worry, Halmeonim,” Yong-ha added. “The colors are a little muted, which is appropriate for the attire of a teacher, but still very fashionable.”
Iseul left them to reassure her grandmother and gazed out the nearest window, which had been left open to let in fresh air. She had enjoyed the fitting and fabric selection very much, but now the distraction was gone and she was back to worrying about her continued lack of inspiration for Hwa-jae's latest commission.
She was highly tempted to turn down the order, even at this late date. It would be a blow to her pride as well as to her purse, but she also hated the idea of producing a low-quality (and possibly also completely inaccurate) painting just for the money. Hwa-jae's reputation would be ruined.
Suddenly, there was a loud commotion outside. A crowd of people was moving slowly down the street, egging on a pair of laborers who towed a heavily laden cart in the place of oxen. There was a shout as a wheel got stuck in a rut, forcing one man to push the cart from behind while his partner continued to pull.
Through a gap in the throng, Iseul glimpsed the man working on the front of the cart. He wasn't tall, handsome, or particularly clean, but it was clear that he was very strong. The ropes of muscle in his arms, bare despite the cold, stood out in stark relief as he strained to pull the cart free.
She studied the lines of the laborer's arm, thinking that it would be something interesting to sketch later, when the limb in her imagination wrapped itself around something-something softer and more rounded, for contrast....
Her breath caught as she realized that Hwa-jae could fill that problematic order with a painting of a lovers' embrace. It would be a clever way of hiding the male figure; in fact, wouldn't it be interesting if the female figure were more prominently positioned?
It took a while for the voices to filter into her thoughts. “Teacher Kim?” “Ya, Iseul-ah!” “What's going on?”
She blinked and realized that the others in the room were looking at her quizzically. “Is everything all right, dear?” her grandmother asked, brow furrowed with concern as she gazed in her general direction.
“Oh, yes, Halmeonim!” she replied, feeling her face grow warm. “I was just, ah, lost in thought for a while.”
“You were so lost that we weren't sure if we would ever find you again!” her friend teased.
Yong-ha watched Iseul drop her gaze with an embarrassed little laugh, but said nothing. The unfocused look in her eyes, delicate blush, and softness around her mouth... he had seen that expression before, but never on a woman who lived a chaste existence with her blind grandmother and needed lessons to even look a man in the eye.
He glanced at her one last time before turning to a waiting servant with a request to clear away the fabrics excluded from Iseul's order. If he didn't know her better, he would think that she had been lost in some very naughty thoughts.