Chapter 28: Destiny

From their grandmother, Gu Cheng and Pan Jieying heard an extraordinary tale—strange, winding, yet flawless in its logic.

In the 1930s, in Hanseong, Dongyi, a small-time merchant seized the opportunity brought by the Fusang colonization of Manchuria and began trading in imports and exports. Ten years later, the Fusang were expelled. The southern peninsula fell under the occupation of American forces, while the north was controlled by the Russians. In the north, the Russian army stripped factories bare, and officers at every level, corrupt and undisciplined, lined their own pockets, selling off goods. As a result, the price of military supplies, heavy industry equipment, fuel, and mineral resources in the north became extraordinarily low. The southern peninsula, a fertile grain-producing region, received American relief food and various rations. Southern bureaucrats, too, took their cut from the distribution, making everyday necessities relatively cheap on the black market.

Wherever there is a price difference, there will be those willing to risk everything.

That small merchant, sensing the scent of profit, headed to the border port city of Gaeseong, and for two or three years, traded southern consumer goods for northern heavy industry products, becoming, in time, a “big comprador.” By 1949, tensions between north and south rose so high that there were two thousand border skirmishes in a single year, making business increasingly impossible. The “big comprador” decided to secretly arrange a marriage alliance with a northern army officer stationed at the northern border of Gaeseong—a man with whom he had already done business—planning to use the regular army as cover for his smuggling operations. From Hanseong, he brought his eldest daughter, Kwon Young-ryeon, who was only twelve years old.

But within months of their arrival in Gaeseong, war officially erupted. The northern army launched a lightning assault and quickly seized Gaeseong. The “big comprador” tried to flee, but it was already too late. The northern officer, once his prospective in-law, fearing exposure of their previous dealings, ordered his trusted men to secretly arrest and execute the merchant.

Thirteen-year-old Kwon Young-ryeon, never having been seen by the officer, escaped by pretending to be an ordinary passerby—her identity unknown to the northern soldiers. Before he was captured, her father entrusted her with a sheet of tracing paper, inscribed with some traditional characters and a rough map. His liquid capital, hastily hidden, was stashed in a secret tunnel leading to Gaeseong’s northern suburbs—one of countless such tunnels dug by both armies along the border at that time.

Kwon Young-ryeon understood too well that possessing wealth invites disaster. Besides, she had no chance of entering a military forbidden zone, nor could she escape back to Hanseong, now a foreign land. She could only survive by disguising herself as a war orphan—among the millions left parentless by a war that claimed two million young lives.

So she lived in an orphan camp until the war ended. One day, a volunteer officer, ten years her senior and lame in one leg, came to the camp, looking for a girl—as if selecting livestock. At a glance, he chose Kwon Young-ryeon, whose beauty and bearing far surpassed the others. The officer, bad-tempered and a heavy drinker, took the sixteen-year-old girl away, and she was powerless to resist. Only later did she learn that, crippled and disillusioned, the officer had no wish to return home and ruin a good family’s daughter, so he simply sought to spend his life with a war orphan.

…

Gu Cheng and Pan Jieying sat in stunned silence for a long time, struggling to accept the truth. At length, Gu Cheng summoned the courage to ask, “No, wait! Even if it was really like you say, why didn’t you tell Grandpa after the war? Wasn’t he an officer? Surely he would have had the right to enter the military restricted zone at the front line? That way, you could have retrieved your father’s belongings.”

Grandmother shook her head, her face etched with sorrow. “Chengcheng, you have no idea what it was like back then. First of all, your grandfather’s rank wasn’t high enough. Second, do you really think there was any affection between us at the start? I don’t doubt for a second that, had he learned before your father was born that I was the daughter of a comprador and bureaucrat capitalist, he would have shot me himself, reported me to the authorities, and gone back to the orphan camp to pick another girl.”

Gu Cheng was dumbfounded, but found himself unable to argue.

In those times, struggle was everything—sons were forced to denounce their own parents. How much harder for newlyweds without any foundation of love? The regime wished nothing more than to sever the roots of the Chinese nation, to remake it in the image of bearded apostles.

And in those days, even if you had money, there was nowhere to spend it. At best, it could only bring ruin to the whole family.

Seeing Gu Cheng’s expression, Grandmother knew he understood, and continued, “Later, your father and little Ying’s mother were born, and your grandfather gradually developed some feelings for me. But then came the decade of turmoil. Of course I still dared not speak—have you forgotten what happened to your maternal grandparents? Just because they had relatives across the strait, the whole family died in the cowshed. In those years, could I say anything that might bring disaster upon us?”

The siblings nodded, crestfallen. “No…”

“Not until the 1980s, when your grandfather was already in his fifties, and the great Deng finally set things right, did I feel safe enough to tell him. But by then, relations between China and Russia had soured, and the northern barbarians had sided with Russia. Even if I told him, it was useless, so I never told your father either.”

Gu Cheng grew anxious. “But why didn’t you say anything before the stock market crash in ’98? Were those belongings valuable? If you’d told us, couldn’t our family…”

Grandmother’s face contorted in pain, as if regretting not having taken the risk. Pan Jieying pinched her brother, scolding him, “Mind your words! Grandma is the last person who would wish for such tragedy—why do you have to twist the knife?”

Gu Cheng hurried to explain, “I… I was just too anxious, Grandma, you know what I mean.”

Grandmother shook her head gently, stopping Pan Jieying from rebuking her brother. “Let him speak, Ying. He’s right. I regret it too. At the time, I didn’t know how desperate your father really was. But the main thing was, Gaeseong was still a restricted zone on the northern front, and we couldn’t get in. In ’92, China and Dongyi established diplomatic relations, but in the years that followed, relations with the north hit rock bottom—there was no way for Chinese people to enter Gaeseong’s restricted zone.

Even if I had told him, and your father had been left yearning for something he could never have, wouldn’t that have been worse? Of course, I couldn’t have foreseen how things would turn out, all those accidents. If I could have known, I would have told him everything, whatever the cost.”

Only now did the siblings feel they had finally grasped the whole tangled story, filled with both sorrow and understanding.

Grandmother paused, then gave an order. “Chengcheng, pull out that trunk from under my bed, on the left side. There’s a small box at the bottom.”

Gu Cheng did as he was told, dragging out the trunk from under his grandmother’s bed, rummaging until he found a small case, which he brought to her in the living room. Grandmother snapped the box open. Inside was a yellowed sheet of tracing paper, bearing several lines of handwritten traditional characters, and a hand-drawn map.

Gu Cheng asked instinctively, “Is this…?”

“This is what my father left me all those years ago,” Grandmother nodded, her voice gentle. “You’ve been in Dongyi for two years now. I don’t know if you have any connections who could get you into Gaeseong, but take this anyway.”

Gu Cheng tried to comfort her. “Alright, I’ll see if I can find an opportunity.”

“And another thing! I’m telling you both at the same time because I want you to know I’ve always been fair—my own flesh and blood, both sides the same. Chengcheng, if you ever do get that treasure out, don’t forget half belongs to your sister. You can borrow it for a while, but you must return it to her in the end.”

“Don’t worry, Grandma, I’m more than capable—I’d never covet my sister’s share. Even if we get it back, it’s just a keepsake,” Gu Cheng replied grandly, knowing his grandmother never favored sons over daughters.

Just as, to Lady Jia, there was never any favoritism between Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu.

Back in the bedroom, as she packed her things, Pan Jieying asked her brother in a low voice, “A Cheng, do you have a way?”

“I can only try,” Gu Cheng replied, frowning thoughtfully. “From the news, the new Gaeseong Development Zone will open for two types of business: industry and services. In Dongyi, industrial matters for foreigners are handled by the Ministry of Foreign Trade; services by the Ministry of Culture and Sports. I happen to have a friend in the Ministry of Culture and Sports. When I go to Hanseong this time, I’ll ask if he has any connections. Maybe we can find a way in, and if need be, offer him a little something.”

Pan Jieying nodded, convinced. “In that case, don’t rush. Go tomorrow, take care of your main business, and then look into it at your own pace.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”