Chapter 43: Withdrawal Symptoms

It happened after the long, arduous schedule of the winter solstice ended and the Joseon envoy completed their final ceremony, leaving Beijing behind.

Of course, by then, Kim Jo-sun and the other slaves had flawlessly carried out the tasks assigned to them by the Prodigy.

However, there was one person who obsessively tracked the envoys even after they’d left Beijing.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Now that they’ve left Zhili, should I stop submitting reports?”

Naturally, that person was Emperor Qianlong, who had recently opened his eyes to a new world.

Even now, before him lay stacks upon stacks of the Prodigy’s novels, translated in their entirety by sacrificing the Minister of Rites, Ji Yun.

“No.”

And today, the emperor was as fickle as ever.

“Pardon…? But, Your Majesty. They have already entered Manchuria…”

“I have already given strict orders. Do not question further, just relay the reports as they arrive.”

“Y-yes!!”

To the head eunuch, the Taegam, this old man’s behavior seemed utterly baffling.

For an emperor who prided himself as master of all humanity, envoys were little more than guests to be treated adequately and then used to display the empire’s grandeur.

No emperor before had ever demanded continuous observation and reports about the Joseon envoys after they’d left Beijing.

But Qianlong was different.

Breaking all precedent, he had agents shadowing the returning Joseon envoys, reporting their every movement as they made their way home.

Was this simply because he wanted to ensure the envoys—tasked with finding the author by imperial decree—returned safely?

Or was it…?

“Tsk… According to Ji Yun’s report, these extraordinary miscellanies poured out in droves over a short period…”

After sending the Taegam away, Qianlong once again set aside , which he’d been poring over.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment—he was showing clear signs of advanced novel addiction.

“I took his advice and tried other miscellanies, but few satisfied my noble taste…”

He tossed aside —which he’d picked up in place of —and sighed.

It was a full translation of every novel the envoys had brought, all handed over by Ji Yun, who had stayed up nights to finish them.

Yet for an emperor belatedly enthralled by fiction, just  and  were nowhere near enough.

‘You are to summon additional Joseon envoys at once.’

‘The Joseon envoys, Your Majesty? But why…’

‘Obtain them all, translate them all, and bring them all to me. That is an imperial command.’

That was the incident that forced Ji Yun—despite his old age and his work on other key state projects—to go through hell.

The emperor mercilessly drained his poor official, sucking dry every last translated volume.

But even after licking the plate clean, Qianlong was thirsting for new works again.

“Y-Your Majesty, then shall I go to Liulichang and acquire other miscellanies…”

“That won’t be necessary… I have already gauged the general level of current works making the rounds…”

Another eunuch tried to sate the emperor’s thirst, but to no avail.

Nor did the emperor of the Daicing Gurun seem inclined to lower his towering standards.

Even the  Qianlong just tossed aside was regarded as a high-quality masterpiece of the Qing.

Like , it satirized the corruption of the imperial examination system and the moral decay of hypocritical scholars and aristocrats.

But even that wasn’t enough to quench the emperor’s desire.

“Unless it’s on the level of , , or , I cannot be satisfied…”

But Qianlong’s desperation was understandable.

Though his passion had ignited late in life, there was no hope for a steady supply of new fiction to sate him.

Cao Xueqin, author of , had died over twenty years ago.

The author of  lived during the Kangxi era.

And as for Ji Yun, Minister of Rites and author of …

‘Y-Your Majesty…!! Spare me…!!’

Qianlong was still human, after all, and even he felt a bit guilty pushing his aged, haggard minister into working both state affairs and translations, the dark circles growing ever deeper under the old man’s eyes.

Well, if his withdrawal became truly unbearable, the emperor was prepared to use the last, most desperate resort.

But that was for the ultimate, final emergency only.

So, now, the emperor’s only option was…

“Hoo… If this Kim Jo-sun fellow truly appreciates the grace I have shown him, he will surely act.”

The only new works capable of satisfying Qianlong’s exacting taste were to be found in Joseon.

But the distance between Beijing and Hanyang was about three thousand li.

For Kim Jo-sun, after returning all that way, to translate and send a new work to Beijing would take an enormous amount of time.

“Mmm…!! Mmmmmm…!!”

Before he knew it, Qianlong’s fingers were trembling, and his body writhed unconsciously.

It was the exact same withdrawal symptom that Lady Choi experienced, which Kim Buyong had witnessed with disbelief.

“Th-this…!!”

It reminded Qianlong of the overwhelming thirst he’d once felt after a bout of severe diarrhea.

When no remedy could stop the emperor’s stomach troubles, the royal physicians had prescribed a certain pill that worked wonders.

The problem was, not only did it stop the outpour, but the pain vanished and a strange sense of pleasure washed over the emperor, albeit briefly.

Fortunately, resisting the temptation hadn’t been difficult, but the experience had left a lasting mark within him.

Come to think of it, the red ginseng the Joseon envoys had brought was supposedly excellent not just for health but also for curing addiction to that medicine.

At a price of 1,800 silver nyang per geun, the cost suddenly made sense.

“A-ah, this won’t do…!!”

At least with that addiction, there was a cure called red ginseng; with novel addiction, there was no such remedy.

Thus,

Soon, an order was issued from the emperor, writhing in his chair.

Heshen, who’d been shouldering all sorts of state affairs, was summoned in haste before the emperor.

“Heshen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty…?”

Now, Qianlong spoke without his usual roundabout manner.

“Collect as much intelligence as possible near the eastern border’s Chakmun (Palisade Gate). Spend as much silver as necessary to employ people.”

Apparently, the emperor was not satisfied with simply sending an imperial edict to the Joseon envoys.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. That will… Wait.”

No, not even personally dispatching agents was enough to cool the emperor’s fevered body.

“Heshen.”

Suddenly, Qianlong’s expression changed completely, catching his favorite minister off guard.

But what came next was something even Heshen, accustomed to the emperor’s whims, could never have anticipated.

“Send a massive force to shadow the Joseon envoys as they pass through Manchuria.”

“Y-yes…?”

“And you know that secret fund you’ve been managing? That too…”

One unexpected command after another flowed from Qianlong’s mouth.

However,

While the first order, concerning the management of Manchurian transit routes, was somewhat understandable,

The order to liquidate part of Heshen’s secret funds for immediate use seemed completely out of the blue.

“But Your Majesty, why—?”

“Do it at once!!”

“Yes!!”

Heshen, for all his power, was first and foremost the emperor’s loyal servant.

When Qianlong said “jump,” Heshen could only ask, “How high?”

No matter how bizarre the order, he had no choice but to obey.

“One never knows how things will turn out. It’s only prudent to act early!”

“Your words are always wise, Your Majesty!!”

* * *

Kim Jo-sun has returned!!

Jeong Yak-yong has returned!!

And my slaves fulfilled their assigned missions with 150% diligence!

Just reading their reports could make me forget to eat.

First, let’s talk about the red ginseng business, which has truly turned into “Are you telling me money can be copied?!”

I’m not sure what Kim Jo-sun did, but he jacked up the price of red ginseng by about thirty times, giving Chinese merchants a thorough beating on his way back.

Honestly, even I never dreamed business would go this well.

In that old drama I got my idea from, they only made a modest profit and wrapped up the deal honorably.

Did Kim Jo-sun pick up some new tricks while hanging out with Gyedeok-sang?

Either way, I marveled at my own eye for talent, having chosen such a capable slave, and savored my satisfaction.

Then, there was the matter of potatoes and peanuts, which Kim Jo-sun had reported before even leaving Beijing.

“So, potatoes (馬鈴薯) have already started test cultivation?”

“Yes, young master. We borrowed some strength from the Mansang and Songsang guilds we partnered with this time.”

Potatoes thrive in the cold north, after all.

That’s why Kim Jo-sun handed out the seeds and started cultivation on the way back through Pyeongan-do.

As for peanuts, they’d soon be sent south—where sweet potatoes were already grown—to be used for oil and fertilizer meal.

Once again, I felt just how cleanly Kim Jo-sun handled things.

“Oh… Then the next new series after  might come out faster than expected?”

“R-really??”

“Kim Daegyo, you’re drooling.”

“Ah, oops…”

Of course, Mr. Jo-sun has a heart bursting with patriotism, but it seems his greed for new works is even bigger.

No matter how great potatoes and peanuts are as crops, they don’t have mouths of their own.

If the people don’t know how amazing these two crops are, it’s all useless.

This is why, both then and now, promotion from the top down is so important for policy.

Thus, I planned to incorporate concepts unknown in Joseon into my novels to promote this great national project.

After all, even  was written on King Jeongjo’s order to promote the Shinhae Tonggong.

Of course, I never intended to write a blind, one-sided hymn of praise to “His Majesty and the Shinhae Tonggong,” and I’d always included some mild rebellion as I resolved the backlog of tasks.

“Oh, right. I was in the middle of a report.”

Maybe he was just that excited for the new work.

It took Kim Jo-sun a while to calm down and continue his report.

Geez, he really would die for a good novel.

“…Three relatives who accompanied Jeong Jipyung got stranded locally, but that’s already been dealt with.”

Then came the report Jeong Yak-yong had written and sent via Kim Jo-sun.

Judging from the excited handwriting, it was clear the Catholic issue had been resolved well.

With this, the fuse leading to the impending literary purges in Joseon had been safely removed.

It was curious that Yun Ji-chung, a known companion, and two of Jeong Yak-yong’s other relatives had stayed behind in Beijing.

But from my perspective, the instigator of the “burned ancestral tablet” incident had simply left Joseon territory on their own.

It felt like our clever, gloomy nerd Jeong Yak-yong had defused a time bomb abroad before it could explode at home.

Thanks to the missions I’d sent my slaves on in Qing, I’d achieved solid results across the board.

Sure, the long-term challenge of breeding sweet potatoes and peanuts that could be grown in warmer regions remained.

But that would have to be solved slowly and steadily over time.

Either way, I couldn’t just stop and be satisfied here.

I was a royal prince of the Joseon royal family, Jeongjo’s heir, and a novelist working behind the scenes.

It was my duty not just to achieve diplomatic success, but to multiply those results many times over through my writing.

However, it felt like I had a lot of material to cover this time, so I’d need to rack my brains a bit for my next work.

And then—

“Ooh…! It was worth the trip to the capital!!”

Finishing his report, Kim Jo-sun couldn’t hide his excitement as he clutched the new manuscript.

He’d looked expectant from the start, and now it was clear why he’d rushed to see me without even resting after such a long journey.

“This… This is what I’ve been waiting for, over and over again…”

Like a starving beast devouring prey, Kim Jo-sun began flipping through the pages at lightning speed, devouring the story.

That’s right.

After just one volume, the serialization of , which had to be put on hiatus, was finally resuming.

Kim Jo-sun would become the first in Joseon to read what happened after the protagonist struck it rich through real estate speculation and caught the eye of Master Yangsun of the Yangsun Merchant Guild.

“Take your time reading. I’ve written quite a lot already.”

“But… I cannot stop, young master!!”

Well, Kim Jo-sun is a special kind of novel addict, so that reaction makes sense.

I’d expected that the long break—while the embassy was away in Beijing—would have made the series fade in readers’ minds.

But my prediction was completely wrong.

“At last, it’s back, !!”

The sensational genre novel where the youngest of the Jin family swallows up the Yangsun Merchant Guild.

Regardless of the long hiatus,  whipped up another storm across Joseon.

And this time, it was creating ripples from an unexpected direction…