Yom Sang-seop - Three Generations

After Gyeong-ae urged her to drink more, Ui-gyeong listlessly pushed the glass toward her “mother.” Maedang readily took it and gulped it down. She knew about brandy and whisky, but she’d never seen a bottle in the shape of a zebra’s neck. She drank out of curiosity, but she felt she was losing ground by returning the glass to this impudent beauty in a Western suit. After their first exchanges, Maedang and Gyeong-ae faced each other squarely, offering and accepting shots of the liquor.

“Is this a competition between barmaids or a drinking party between alcohol-guzzling whales?” Sang-hun, who wasn’t drinking much, thought he’d take a stab at humor. “Round one between Bacchus and Maedang, ladies and gentlemen. And Bacchus has taken the lead!” In a manner unbecoming for his age, Sang-hun cheered for Gyeong-ae, imagining he found himself in a drinking paradise surrounded by adoring women.

Gyeong-ae tossed Ui-gyeong a napkin. “Why don’t you wave this, instead of a flag, to cheer on your mother?”

Maedang wanted to get Gyeong-ae dead drunk and take her to her house; she hoped to make her one of her girls. Although affronted by the young woman who treated her with such insolence, business came before saving face.

“ Egu, it’s almost midnight. We should go,” Maedang said to Sang-hun after finishing off what remained in her glass. Amused, Gyeong-ae said, “You sound like you’re talking to your husband. You’re just like a married couple — with a daughter.” She burst out laughing.

Gyeong-ae’s footsteps were unsteady as she negotiated the stairs, but Maedang looked unfazed, though she had already drunk a considerable amount before coming to the restaurant. As they reached the door, four rickshaws waiting for them came into sight.

“Let’s go share another drink,” said Maedang as she helped Gyeong-ae aboard.

“Sounds good. Why don’t we stay up all night drinking!”

The rickshaws crossed the avenue in a row, with Ui-gyeong’s car in front and Gyeong-ae’s directly behind. Suddenly, Gyeong-ae’s car wheeled about, and Gyeong-ae shouted, “Good night and sleep tight! Thank you for allowing me a good look!”

In her rickshaw, Maedang snorted and clucked her tongue; her slight intoxication disappeared in the winter wind. She wasn’t sure whether she was more infuriated over having been duped by Gyeong-ae’s wiles or by the fact that a good piece of goods — by chance swept into her net — had slipped away. She would love to get her hands on such a bold and unusual girl, even though she knew she would have to pay a premium. Gyeong-ae was better than anyone else who frequented her house, on the basis of her looks, if nothing else.

“You’ve insulted me, Mr. Jo. You should bring that wildcat to me at least once. I’ll teach her some manners,” Maedang muttered sharply to Sang-hun when, later that night, they sat before a table laden with midnight snacks.

“You can try every trick you know, but I don’t think you’ll catch her.” Sang-hun thought he’d better give up on Gyeong-ae, given what he’d seen that night.

Ui-gyeong spent the night at Maedang House. Several months had passed since she first began visiting the establishment, but never had she stayed the night. It was very late, but more than that, after meeting Gyeong-ae — such a powerful opponent — she grew more audacious. She threw herself at Sang-hun’s feet more eagerly than ever before. Another worry stirred insider her — she was late that month. And the more anxious she grew, the deeper she felt she was slipping into an irreparable mess.

Adviser Jo had a son, a grandson, and a great-grandson, but none was as important as one single person — the Suwon woman. He believed he’d get better if she just sat near him. But after being carried inside, despite the doctor’s order to remain immobile, his limp noodle of a back was aggravated, though he was handled ever so gently. For several days, his back ached and the swelling worsened.

The room in the inner quarters was hot, for it was linked to the kitchen stove, which was in constant use. With characteristic impatience, the old man ordered his quilt removed time and again, which required that the door slide open and shut all the time. His cold improved one moment and then worsened the next, completely exhausting the old man. Meanwhile, pneumonia, which they had feared most, set in. Chinese and Western doctors came and went, and the entire house was in an uproar, abuzz with the preparation of medicine from early morning until well into the night.

The Suwon woman was losing weight. Many eyes were on her, and she was all the more resentful not being able to reveal her irritation.

It looked like the old man would be sick for a long time. Like a small child, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight for a minute, and someone had to attend to his bedpan day and night. During the daytime, she could rely on others to empty it, but at night she had to do it herself. It was agonizing to be regularly wrenched from a sweet sleep, and to make matters worse, she wasn’t able to air the room, which was permeated by a pungent odor. She soon took to falling asleep with a perfumed silk handkerchief held to her nose. The old man grumbled about the handkerchief and wondered where the fragrant smell came from. He didn’t mind the scent itself, but it irritated him to think they were trying to mask the stench of his body with perfume.

Still, the Suwon woman was most obliging. If she took this opportunity to pay extra attention to the old man, she could get more farmland — yielding two hundred bags of rice rather than a hundred, for example. She also went out of her way to cast aspersions on her stepgranddaughter-in-law. Now that the old man had become so estranged from his son and daughter-in-law, he might leave more assets to his grandson and granddaughter-in-law upon his death, and if the grandson’s family was cut off, he’d leave more to her — such were the dark workings of her heart, even if it amounted to only a small patch of farmland.

“The young one’s useless. She’s so lazy.” The Suwon woman blamed everything on the granddaughter-in-law whenever the old man appeared unhappy.

“It’s no wonder. She’s still young and has a child to raise. Maybe she’s pregnant again.” Even in his suffering, the old man found his granddaughter-in-law endearing, seeing her as a bud whose sap is rising.

The Suwon woman turned down the corners of her mouth. “What’ll she do if she has another? She’s struggling with just the one as it is.”

“Still, it’s better to have a second child when the time is right,” the old man said, figuring that she could be pregnant after his grandson’s recent visit. This prospect, however, was not as gratifying as the old man’s dream of having another child with the Suwon woman. He was worried that the clan would end up with few descendants.

“Why do you worry about such things when you’re not well?” The Suwon woman imagined the headache should the young one be pregnant again.

“Anyway, her mother-in-law spoils her. The young one’s so coldhearted. She separates everything — theirs and ours. She frowns at your chamber pot, as if it were contaminated. She doesn’t touch it, of course, yet rinses out the one from her own room. Not that I expect her to wash ours.” Her first salvo in the campaign to undermine the young one.

“Can’t anyone else wash it? Why would we expect her to do it?” the old man said gently, though it was unpleasant to discuss these matters.

“That’s what I mean. You can tell ten things from just one aspect of someone’s behavior. She doesn’t do anything about brewing medicine, leaving it all to the underlings. Couldn’t she take a peek at the brew from time to time as she comes and goes? Apart from medicine, it’s proper that she look in on things like the stew or the rice-boiled water if it’s for one’s elders. If she cared, that is.”