A Wanderer in the Valley (Sang-gol Nageune)

Author: Kim You-jeong

Even as the night deepens, the drinkers do not quiet down. The room is desolate, filled with a musty odor like the smell of fermenting meju. In the upper room, mice squeak incessantly. The widowed mother sits by a chipped brazier, lost in deep, lonely thoughts. The dim, flickering lamp loses its light as the wind seeps through a hole in the northern paper door. She plugs the hole with an old sock. Then, she pulls her sewing basket toward her under the lamp and listlessly picks up a needle.

Why is autumn in the mountain valley so solitary! Leaves fall rustling from the fences in the front and back. It sounds as if they are whispering right by one's ear. Even worse is the sound of the water; the clear spring winds through the valley, flowing down and eerily chanting a melody.

Pong! Pong! Pong! Jjorok pong!

Outside, the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground is heard. Her ears perk up, and she lightly flings open the door. Poking her head out, she says,

"Is that you, Deok-dol?" she asked hopefully, but it was silent. A cold wind swirling around the woods across the front yard scatters fallen leaves against her face. The roof ridge wails. Startled by the harsh sound of the wind, a night dog barks loudly in the distance.

"Is the owner of the house there?"

Just as she was about to turn back and pick up her sewing again, this time there was definitely a human presence. Startled, she stood up and opened the door, asking, "Who is it?"

"What brings you here?"

A woman she had never seen before stood at the edge of the wooden veranda. Her dark-red face looked pale in the slanted moonlight. She seemed cold. Holding the Japanese towel she had wrapped around her head in one hand, she tucked up her disheveled hair with the other, looking shy and hesitant.

"Um, please let me stay for just one night."

It wasn't a man, so what was she doing out at this hour, in straw sandals on bare feet? Be that as it may, the owner said,

"Come in quickly and warm yourself by the fire."

The wanderer hesitated before entering the room and sat cross-legged by the brazier. She twisted her waist slightly to hide the skin peeking through her tattered skirt. Then she remained silent. The owner watched her blankly and asked if she wanted some rice, but she stayed quiet.

However, when the owner gathered some leftovers and brought them with a side of salty pickles, the woman received them with great gratitude. Without even a sip of water, she scraped the bottom of the rice bowl in an instant.

As soon as the woman put down her spoon, the owner began to strike up a conversation. She asked about every little detail, and the stories were endless. It seemed she pestered her so much that she herself felt exhausted. The wanderer showed neither dislike nor pleasure, replying bit by bit. After briefly mentioning that she had no husband and no place to belong, she said,

"I just wander around begging for food like this," and buried her chin in her chest.

When the first rooster crowed, Deok-dol finally returned from his outing in the village. He poked his rough, unruly head through the door but stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight of the strange woman. Harsh wind blew through the open door, and the room went pitch black. The owner walked to the door and patted Deok-dol on the back. It was unseemly for an old bachelor to sleep in a room where a young woman was sleeping.

"Hey, Deok-dol, go sleep in the village today and come back in the morning."

🙝🙟

Since it was harvest time, it was about time for money to circulate. But where that money was heading, she rarely tasted it in this tavern. Even if she sold wine, she only made about 50 to 60 cents per container. It took three or four days to sell even one container, and lately, even the measly drinkers had vanished. Occasionally, people wouldn't even bring back the money for credit they had taken previously. The widow, feeling frustrated, went around from early morning to collect money. But her efforts were in vain. The people who owed money weren't willing to pay, muttering excuses about waiting a bit longer. Still, she couldn't stop going. Their provisions were running low daily, and the local office was pestering them with threats of foreclosure...

"I'll be leaving now as well."

When the owner changed into her outing clothes after breakfast, the wanderer stood up to follow. Holding her hand gently, the owner said,

"You must be exhausted, stay and rest for a few more days."

"I must go, I've already imposed for too long..."

"Don't worry about that," the owner said, pressing her back down and telling her to lie in the room as if she were guarding the house, then she left.

She crossed the Baekdu Pass and wandered through the village until sunset. There were places she went out of habit, but it was fruitless. Only when it turned dark did she return, looking dejected. She had managed to receive only five liters of millet. Other people, far from thinking of paying, even threatened her, saying they wouldn't drink her wine anymore if she acted this way. But even this was a relief. It was better than receiving nothing; she had something for the next meal. She washed the millet, and the wanderer lit the fire in the stove to hurriedly cook rice and set the table.

Just as they finished eating and were sitting down, a crowd of drinkers suddenly flocked in. What was happening? First one came, then three, then two. They were all young men. But since there wasn't enough room to seat them separately, the owner hesitated and explained the situation. However, they said they were all from the same village and didn't mind eating together, which made her overjoyed. Her luck was finally turning. She poured makgeolli into a basin, gave it to the wanderer, and told her to put it in the pot to warm it up quickly. She herself moved nimbly, preparing snacks—salty pickles, water kimchi, red pepper paste, and a special treat of boiled chestnuts. They were chestnuts her cousin had brought a few days ago, which she had been saving.

The room was boisterous. One guy was banging on the wall looking for "Arirang," another was laughing boisterously for no reason, and others were whispering among themselves—it was a mix of everything. When the owner entered carrying the wine tray, they all straightened up as if they had planned it. Among them, a broad-faced man with a "high-collar" haircut, looking arrogant, leaned toward the owner's ear as he received the tray.

"Auntie, did you buy a young prostitute? Show her to us."

She heard all sorts of baseless rumors.

"A prostitute? What prostitute?" She was dazed, but then she realized it wasn't a completely unfounded thought. She went down to the kitchen and affectionately embraced the head of the wanderer who was crouching in front of the stove. Look, those guys came because they think the newcomer is a prostitute. Of course, it’s a disgraceful thing for her, but for our house, where a customer's shadow has been rare for a month, it's a shower of luck. It’s not like serving soup will make anything fall off, and it's not an insult, so for my sake, please just help out today—she spoke kindly and earnestly in this manner. The wanderer's face didn't change much. She consented as usual, in an ordinary way.

Only after the alcohol circulated through their bodies did the wine sales begin to pick up. Five cents a glass—it was too precious to just drink. A man with an intoxicated topknot grabbed the woman's wrist and pulled her forward.

"Sing a drinking song. Are you a borrowed bag of barley?"

"A drinking song? What's that?"

"A drinking song? A prostitute doesn't know a drinking song? Hahaha." Feeling bold in his embarrassment, he rubbed his scruffy chin against the cheek of the woman who was bowing her head. No matter how much they tried to make her sing, she only bit her lower lip and tilted her head; she apparently didn't know how to sing. But even a flower that cannot sing is good. The woman sat on one lap after another as she was told, lifting the wine glass to their chins.

The men were thoroughly drunk. Two of them were fast asleep, snoring. When the woman sat on the lap of the "high-collar" man and lit a cigarette for him, he snorted, and his rough hand unceremoniously grabbed the woman's lower belly. Suddenly she cried "Ouch!" and her body jumped up into the air before falling back down.

"You rascal, are you the only one who paid to eat?"

A man with a topknot sitting across from him frowned. Then, he grabbed both of the woman's bare feet and spread her legs wide, pulling them onto his lap. The woman resisted. Tears welled up in her eyes and suddenly began to trickle down.

A cacophony of voices erupted in the room.

"Look at that rascal, hahaha."

Even while constantly heating wine and bringing it in, the owner was anxious and worried. She finally felt at ease only when it became much brighter.

The sparrows chirped noisily. The floor was as messy as a scabbed wound. Wine, pieces of pickle, phlegm, cigarette ash—it was all filthy. First, she found a spot to sit and checked the earnings. The first sale of the day was 85 cents, and credit was 2 won... Holding the 85 cents in her two hands, she counted it over and over...

In the yard, the wanderer was calling out greetings.

"Goodbye, please go safely."

"Give me a kiss first! Mwah! Mwah!"

"Me too."

Jjireukung! Jjireukung! Jjilgeoreukung!

"The head of the mortar is heavy, isn't it? ...Shall we stop pounding?"

"It's not ripe yet, we need to pound it more."

"By the way, what happened to the boy..."

She had sent Deok-dol to the town, but he hasn't returned even though it's dark. Sweeping the scattered millet into the mortar, the widow feels quite anxious. These days, as the weather turns cold, wolves and tigers come down to the village. If you meet one on a mountain pass at night, you'll be harmed without being able to make a sound.

The wanderer puts the mortar in place, comes down, and scoops the millet into a winnowing basket. The owner strokes her head and takes off her own apron to cover her with it. Though the woman is nineteen and should be in full bloom, her hair is matted and her face is gaunt; she is already withering. It is likely because she has suffered greatly.

Watching her work diligently without a moment's rest, moving her slender waist quickly, the owner found her extremely lovable. At the same time, she felt pity. She thought it would be the best luck if the woman could live by her side like a daughter. If that were possible, she thought she wouldn't trade her even for an ox.

Life for the widow with only her son was quite lonely. Yet, people in the village said things without knowing the situation, asking if she was going to let her old bachelor son just age away. However, since they were poor, she hadn't dared to think of it until finally this spring, when she began to move toward it. Unexpectedly, things went easily. After word went around, an engagement was made with the second daughter of a family living in the southern mountains. The widow walked the 40-ri road specifically to rub the back of the girl's hand and said,

"The girl is truly well-formed!"

She praised her to the in-laws over and over because she liked her so much.

However, it was after she had sewn all the wedding clothes by getting a loan despite their poverty. With only two days left until the wedding, things went awry. At first, there was no mention of it, but suddenly they asked for 30 won in advance. Since she only had 2 won left after paying the mediator's fee and making the wedding clothes—hardly enough for the feast—30 won was an unthinkable amount. That night, she tossed and turned, feeling like her soul was lost, and stayed up all night.

"Mother! Please have your meal."

If she could hear such words from a daughter-in-law, she would find her incredibly precious. This was her only wish.

"Your legs must hurt, right? I'm making you work too much..."

The owner greedily watches the wanderer as she sweeps the evening millet and works the mortar. The mortar is heavy and doesn't rise easily. Because she has a frail body, her blood rises and her two cheeks become bright red as she breathes heavily. Her skirt was one thing, but her silk jacket was so worn that the shoulder area had a palm-sized tear. However, she has no choice but to wait until Deok-dol brings back five lengths of Japanese fabric to make her underwear first and then do the rest gradually.

"Let's pound it together."

The owner also stepped onto the pedal of the mortar. And she quietly squeezed the wanderer's hand on the railing without letting her notice. If only she could get a daughter-in-law just like this! When her eyes met the wanderer's, she felt embarrassed and turned her gaze away.

"It's quite lonely, isn't it?" she said, pointing outside the fence with her hand. It was the sunset hour, like the first night. Wearing their colorful jackets, the mountains faintly echoed the grand sound of the mortar. Jjilgeoreukung! Jjireukung!

She treated the wanderer like a lump of gold. They shared the few clothes they had. And when they slept, she would hold her tight in her arms under the quilt as if she were her own daughter. However, she couldn't bring herself to speak her hidden intention. If she accepted it well, it would be one thing, but if she took it wrongly, it would be embarrassing for both of them.

Then, an unexpected event provided an opportunity. It was the fourth일 since the wanderer arrived. Yeong-gil’s family, who lived at the foot of Geomun-gwan Mountain, asked her to come and pound some rice. Since the wanderer had stayed up all night, the owner told her to sleep soundly during the day and she left the house alone.

She returned home with her head covered in white chaff and her strength drained as it grew dark. Dragging her old legs toward the front yard, she stopped. There was no way Deok-dol would enter the room where the wanderer slept alone, so it must be him. Next to the wanderer's small straw sandals at the edge of the veranda, a pair of large, rough straw sandals was placed boldly. And low voices whispered from the room. She reflexively leaned her ear toward the closed door.

"Then why are you acting this way? Are you worried our house will starve?"

"..."

"Mother is a good person, too... If things go well this year, we'll buy an ox next year, and for farming alone, we'll get four sacks of rice and six sacks of millet in a year, which is plenty... Do you dislike me?"

"..."

"Since your husband died, you have to get one anyway, right?"

The sound of clothes tearing. A rustle.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Really! Please let go."

It was as quiet as a dead mouse. Staring at the leaves fluttering in the air for a long while, she smiled. She quieted her footsteps and turned back toward the yard.

After clearing the dinner table, she feigned innocence, observed the wanderer's reaction, and opened her mouth.

"It must be hard for a young woman to wander around alone. And since you'll need a man eventually..."

From there, she brought up various points reasonably and asked her directly to become her daughter-in-law. The wanderer, sitting with her skirt tucked in and listening intently, bit her skirt string and lowered her forehead. Then her two cheeks turned red. What young woman would step forward and say she wants to get married? This was as good as an agreement.

Since she already had the wedding clothes from before, she had one less worry. She only had to adjust the hem and let her wear them. With the 2 won, she bought a silver hairpin and a silver ring to give specifically to the bride as a gift...

The more things are delayed, the more failures occur. She immediately set a date and held the wedding ceremony. In one corner, they pressed noodles. The women who came for the feast quickly received their noodle bowls, slurped them up, and praised the bride's beauty.

The owner was so overcome with joy that she secretly had some wine. It was a great occasion. She was so busy moving in and out among the crowd and giving orders that she didn't have a moment to rest.

"Hey, daughter-in-law! Bring another bowl of noodles."

The words felt a bit awkward... Let's try again,

"Daughter-in-law, hey! Bring it quickly."

Approaching thirty, he wore his hair in a topknot, and he looked quite stylish. Deok-dol’s strength surged after his first night. When others thrashed two bundles, his third bundle was already being opened. He repeatedly spat on his palms and squared his shoulders.

"Kkeuk! Kkeuk! Keul! Strike it. Roll it, Kkeuk! Kkeuk!"

It was a communal work session among friends. About five dark-skinned young farmers took turns picking up the rice bundles. Panting like people with a fever, they thrashed the rice grains so hard they streamed down from the mortar.

"Hey! You got married and you’re not giving us a treat?"

"She was a beauty. Let's eat well. Is it chicken? Wine? Noodles?"

"Why noodles? Is that all you know?"

They were teasing each other. They stopped working and wiped their sweat with their collars. The valley wind blew the rice chaff into a white mist. A pheasant flew from the side mountain and passed over their heads. A broad-faced man who was raking suddenly ran toward them with his rake. He was a prankster. With the help of several people, he forced an old straw sandal into Deok-dol's mouth. He struggled. They grabbed him by both ears, dragged him over, and shoved his head into a pile of thrashed rice, making him bow in all directions.

"Yaa! Yaa! Ah!"

"No, that's not it. If you got married, you should tell the mountain spirit. If the mountain spirit gets angry for no reason, he'll send a mountain demon."

Laughter erupted. Look at the new groom's clothes. There are holes in his buttocks... some people teased. But Deok-dol dusted off his topknot, lit a pipe, and just smiled. His good clothes were at home. An artificial silk vest, a jacket, pure white cotton trousers, but he was saving them. He wore old clothes for work and only wore the good ones when he returned home to rest. If your clothes are ragged, your impression is poor. Since he had finally gained a precious wife, he had to be careful beforehand so her heart wouldn't turn away. It was for this reason that he had finally used salt on his yellow teeth for the first time in 29 years.

As Deok-dol picked up another rice bundle, Dol-soe, who lived next door, came over to help.

"Hey, Deok-dol! Uh, will you help me with my millet patch tomorrow?"

"What did you say?" he shouted, and the corners of his eyes twitched.

"Who are you calling 'Hey'? Huh? This rascal is going to get it."

He might have been informal until yesterday, but couldn't he see the topknot today!

It was that very day. The widow, who was sleeping fitfully alone in the upper room, was startled awake. It was the middle of a silent night.

"Mother! She ran away. My clothes are gone, too..."

"What?" she cried halfway, and in her confusion, she fumbled through the dark room into the lower room. Hurriedly lighting a lamp, she asked,

"Where did she go?"

She asked with urgency. The son sat naked, covering his front with a quilt, whimpering. On the bed next to him was only an empty pillow; the person was gone. He said that because he was tired from working all day, he had lost track of the world as soon as he lay down. Indeed, at that time, his wife had also taken off her clothes and was lying in the same spot, sleeping together. She had been lying there calmly as usual, just staring at the ceiling. But then he suddenly woke up needing to urinate, and when he tried to reach for the chamber pot, he unexpectedly felt a void in his arms. He called out, but there was no answer. Only then did he guess and fumble for the clothes he had placed at the head of the bed. Indeed, they were gone.

It was clear that she had taken advantage of his sleep to quietly put on his clothes and run away with his other clothes and even his socks.

"The thief!"

The mother and son set out with a pine torch. They searched the kitchen and the ash pit. They even searched every bit of the bushes in front of the yard, but there was no trace.

"Let's check the room one more time anyway."

The mother didn't want to think of her daughter-in-law as a thief. Near tears, she hurried back into the room. When she calmed down and searched, sure enough, the silver hairpin came out from under the daughter-in-law's pillow. If she were a woman planning to run away, she wouldn't have left behind this expensive silver hairpin.

Without a word, she realized something was wrong. The mother set out with her son toward the entrance of the village, as if being led by the scruff of her neck.

🙝🙟

At the entrance where the mountain path leads out of the village, a slanting hill path lay between the thick forest. Right beneath it, hugging a stone wall, was a deep, blue pond, and that wide water wound through layers of mountains for about 10 ri before piercing the middle of the Sin-yeon River. Large rocks, half-buried in the sand and glistening, sat in the stream and spread out on both sides. The crooked path stretched through those crevices. It was a gravel path that was quite difficult to walk. One had to cross the stream several times and bypass rugged mountains for about five ma-jang before finally meeting a proper road. And a little further from there, one could see a solitary, abandoned hovel by the stream. It was a water mill. But now, it had changed into a one-night shelter for drifters searching for food.

The walls were gone, and the water mill inside, with only its four pillars remaining, lay tilted and desolate. A beggar was also lying there next to it on a thin quilt, covered with a straw mat. He was groaning repeatedly. Ugh! Ugh! Eu-heung! Moonlight seeped coldly through the rafters... occasionally scattering dry leaves...

"Dear, are you sleeping? Get up quickly."

At the woman's voice, he sluggishly sat up. He grabbed the collar of his tattered hemp shirt and shivered.

"Are we finally leaving? Cough..."

He asked this, looking at the woman with a gaunt face.

About ten minutes passed. The beggar was fortunate. Wearing layers of clothes that shimmered in the moonlight, he leaned on a staff and left the water mill behind. Supporting the groaning man, the woman followed behind him. She was the daughter-in-law from the tavern.

"The clothes are too big, I wish they were a bit smaller..."

"Stop grumbling and let's go quickly."

The woman hurriedly urged him on. And she didn't forget to keep looking back. They headed toward the river path. Just as they were about to turn the corner of a protruding mountain after crossing the stream, the sound of someone shouting far behind them could be faintly heard. Though the words were muffled by the wind, she could easily guess from the tone that it was Deok-dol's voice.

"Oh, please come quickly."

Feeling as if her heart were burning, the woman urgently pulled the man's wrist. Being sick, the beggar was pulled along, stumbling, as they both disappeared together to the other side of the dark mountain. Embracing water droplets that looked like liquid silver, the waves crashed against the mountain wall. From somewhere unknown, the sound of wolves howling rolled down from this mountain and that.

...

The night of a mountain village where moonlight seeps coldly.
The story of people who set out on the road once again, carrying the weight of a harsh life, has thus come to an end.

It might be a somewhat cold and lonely story,
but the warm spot on the floor they offered each other
and the piece of clumsy but sincere heart within it—
we hope these reach your dreams as a kind and cozy comfort.

Thank you for finishing this long day together with 'Slow Night, Sleepy Stories.'

Please leave all your heavy burdens to the darkness of the deep night,
and stay in this peaceful time without any worries.

Hoping your night becomes a little more snug than yesterday.
Good night. And have sweet dreams.