Chapter 49: PPL

Everyone might have forgotten by now.

But even while the ghostwriter Kim Josun was off on his journey, [Dosul Cheonjamun] continued to be published without pause, faithfully stacking up the author’s royalties.

“That one! The book where Sun Wukong teaches Chinese characters—give me the newest one, quick!!”

“Give me the top edition of that Cheonjamun book with the strong monkey in it!!”

“Do you have the latest [Dosul Cheonjamun]?!”

“Hurry and fetch me the newest copy of ‘that book’!”

No, not only was it simply being published—it had now achieved the monumental feat of being found in every corner of Joseon.

Honestly, explaining just how fervently parents of this era cared about their children’s education would be exhausting.

In the end, [Dosul Cheonjamun] had climbed to become an essential must-read that any parent concerned with their child’s studies had to own at least one set of.

Of course, this was also why the serialization of [Dosul Cheonjamun] never stopped.

After all, what was the reason the author had initially decided to write [Sungkyunkwan Fortress]?

It was to soothe the most dangerous beings of any age—enraged parents.

If even [Dosul Cheonjamun] fell into the abyss of hiatus?

Then, just as the wrathful readers and booksellers had hounded the publisher when [Youngest Son of the Merchant Guild] was suspended, that fury could well have reached him, too.

Naturally, the author could not ignore such a risk.

Thus, even while enduring his torturous studies in the extradimensional storage library, ‘that person’ steadily continued to release new volumes of [Dosul Cheonjamun].

Thanks to this, rumors began to spread that the authors of the now-suspended [Youngest Son of the Merchant Guild] and [Dosul Cheonjamun] were, in fact, different people, and so another pen name was born.

But not long ago, while readers were still fervently absorbed in [Youngest Son of the Merchant Guild], something strange happened.

A peculiar episode appeared in the quietly serialized [Dosul Cheonjamun].

It was a commemorative episode, marking a new milestone in this long-running bestseller.

“[Dosul Cheonjamun]’s latest volume is set in Joseon…?”

Until now, every story in this novel had taken place overseas.

For ‘adult reasons,’ it was easier to avoid Joseon as a setting, and, by steering clear of backgrounds the readers knew well, the author sidestepped any disputes over historical accuracy.

“Huh…? Come to think of it, wasn’t Sun Wukong rampaging in Liaodong last time?”

“So he just used instant movement and crossed the Amnok River in a flash?”

“For the first time, I envy those flat-brained Pyongan-do fools. Their hometown actually appears in the story.”

Indeed.

The monumental first Joseon episode of [Dosul Cheonjamun] unfolded in Pyongan-do.

But, unlike the familiar background, the subject matter of this story was rather unfamiliar to Joseon’s people.

[……

“……!!”

“You’re quite something, not even screaming upon seeing me? Come to think of it, it’s said that Cheonggu has always produced many virtuous scholars.”

This happened when the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, having crossed the Amnok River, arrived at a town in Pyongan-do.

On his way to admire Mount Geumgang, famous even in the Central Plains, he caught the sound of a sigh so deep it threatened to sink the earth, which snared the ears of the mighty monkey.

Most people would’ve collapsed in shock at the sight of the Monkey King wielding his Ruyi Jingu Bang appearing before them.

But the official, who sat in formal attire and knelt in what looked like a remote mountain office, did not lose his composure even upon seeing the Great Sage.

“I did not hold back a scream. It’s true that I’m afraid, having never seen a being such as yourself, yet this pitiful nobody has witnessed something even more terrifying.”

“Something more terrifying?”

“Perhaps you know the saying: ‘The country is founded on the people, and for the people, food is heaven’?”

A nation’s foundation is its people, and for the people, food is their heaven.

The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, who had lived for thousands of years, could hardly be ignorant of this phrase.

“I know it. But why bring it up?”

“Despite appearances, you are a man of great learning.”

“What?!”

“But in this district under my care, the heaven of the people is on the verge of collapse. That is why there is nothing more frightening, and why I cannot help but sigh deeply.”

At last, the Great Sage began to faintly hear the moans of countless suffering people.

It was the sound of villagers so weakened by starvation that they could barely carry on.

“Even surviving on dregs from brewing or husks is a thing of the past. The hunger is so severe now…”

……]

This episode of [Dosul Cheonjamun] was about Sun Wukong encountering an official who wept for the starving people perishing from a natural disaster.

In truth, in the Joseon era—without chemical fertilizer or improved seeds—such calamities were common.

That’s why readers of [Dosul Cheonjamun] found themselves relating especially deeply to this particular story.

“Sigh… Joseon’s people are suffering here, too…”

“I miss my daughter I lost in the famine two years ago…”

“Haa…”

Thus, with the poignant setting and events, readers were more immersed than ever.

And perhaps the empathy of Joseon readers had been conveyed even to Sun Wukong in the story.

Usually quick to bash wrongdoers with his Ruyi Jingu Bang and dole out summary punishment, Sun Wukong responded differently this time.

[……

“Bao—full stomach (飽)!!”

“Wh-what is this, Your Excellency?!”

As soon as the mysterious character was uttered, a lump appeared in the palm of the Great Sage, causing the official’s eyes to widen.

“This is called ‘maryeongseo’—potato. Do you not know it?”

“Maryeong…? Horse’s balls??”

“Haha… The people of the Central Plains escaped starvation with this crop brought from the West. Why, then, do the people of this beautiful land…”

Next, the Great Sage plucked a handful of his hair and blew it out.

The red hairs, carried on the wind, transformed one by one into boxes stained with earth.

“Kind-hearted official of Cheonggu, boil these tubers and feed your starving people. As for the rest, cut them small…”

……]

If this had been in the Central Plains, India, or the Western Regions, Sun Wukong would have rebuked the official for failing his people and made an example of him.

But now, Sun Wukong taught ways to save the people, step by step, like a caring father.

One might think this out-of-character moment would have drawn complaints, but the new turn was so interesting and the story as entertaining as ever that it only made readers more eager for what came next.

“Is this really what the Great Sage would do…?”

“What’s wrong with it?!”

“No, Kim—don’t you think this is a bit different from the Great Sage’s usual antics?”

“So, what, he should just abandon the starving Joseon peasants and leave? Huh?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Or maybe you’d rather he smashes the official’s skull with his staff for dereliction of duty? Hm?”

And above all else—

That mysterious ‘bbong’—the uniquely Korean patriotic high—so naturally infused the story just by being set in Joseon, that it provided all the plausibility needed.

Readers, half-smiling, let Sun Wukong’s unusual behavior slide as they eagerly turned the pages for more.

[……

“You want me to plant these??”

“Yes. And tend them as written in this book. If you do that, your people will never know hunger again.”

“R-really…?”

The moment he received the book containing the cultivation methods from the Great Sage, hot tears burst from the official’s eyes.

Before he knew it, he had dropped to his knees before the Monkey King.

“If you wish, you may also spread this crop widely in Cheonggu. Someone as good-hearted as you will surely grieve to see starving people even in neighboring towns.”

“T-thank you…!! Thank you…!!”

“Don’t thank me. It is the Buddha’s compassion that has come to one as upright as you.”

“B-but, Your Excellency…!!”

……]

Thus, Sun Wukong coolly departed for Mount Geumgang after passing on the new crop and its cultivation method to the kind official.

With the characters for ‘full stomach (飽)’ and ‘hunger (饑)’ from the Cheonjamun as its theme, the ‘Bao Yu Peng Zai Ji Yan Zao Kang (飽飫烹宰 饑厭糟糠)’ episode came to a close.

An episode in which Sun Wukong, uncharacteristically, saved the virtuous brought warmth to the hearts of its readers.

“Huh…?”

But as the story ended and readers, hearts warmed, turned to the last page, something unexpected awaited them.

Normally, this last section contained review questions about the Chinese characters that appeared in the story.

But beneath those questions, there was a phrase that had never been there before.

[To readers residing in Pyongan-do.

This story is based in part on true events, and if you visit your nearest government office…]

It was, in essence, Joseon’s very first advertisement.

Of course, the author hadn’t received a single coin for running this phrase.

But its effectiveness was… perhaps a bit too clear.

“Potatoes! Give us potatoes, magistrate!!”

“I heard you could get them at the office!!”

“It was written clearly in the latest [Dosul Cheonjamun]!!”

Indeed.

The incident where a certain magistrate had to rush outside the office in a panic—

The cause was none other than [Dosul Cheonjamun].

Since just about every yangban household had at least one set of [Dosul Cheonjamun], and since it was an easy, fun story written in Hangul, even commoners could easily borrow and read it, this happened everywhere.

And the crowds swarming the local offices weren’t limited to just one region.

“We’re here for potatoes!!”

“You’re giving out the Great Sage’s divine crops here, right?!”

“Magistrate, hand over the horse’s balls!!”

Almost simultaneously, the same thing happened in front of most government offices in Pyongan-do, as if someone had copy-pasted the scene.

The power of culture was stronger and higher than anyone expected.

“Just as planned.”

If I let my guard down even a little, my lips would curl upward uncontrollably.

No doubt, a smile as dark as the night was sitting on my face right now.

“How on earth did you come up with something like this, Young Master…?”

Reporting how a crowd in Unjongga had suddenly bought up a luxury good, Kim Josun wore a stunned expression.

Even as he explained how potatoes were being distributed rapidly and voluntarily, he looked as if his soul had left his body.

Well, Kim Josun himself, who’d brought back the seed potatoes and arranged for them to be multiplied on the way home, had probably been half in doubt about this plan.

As a bureaucrat with long experience in the court, he would never have imagined administrative work could move at such lightning speed.

Changing things from the top down was usually almost impossible with this era’s administrative capacity.

“His Majesty also read the report from Pyongan-do and had a look of disbelief.”

“I’m sure he did. But didn’t another urgent dispatch arrive around lunchtime today from the Pyongan-do inspector?”

“Yes. He wrote that the potato seeds kept at the office had run out in an instant, and requested permission to take more from the warehouses of Mansang, Yusang, and Songsang.”

As a result of using the power of fiction, my plan was working out better than I ever imagined.

A modern person with sharp eyes might have figured it out already.

This was the wild effect of Joseon’s first attempt at PPL.

Judging by the reaction, even my father Jeongjo couldn’t quite believe what was happening in Pyongan-do.

After all, it took decades for Jo Eom to bring sweet potatoes from Japan and spread them to Namdo and Jeju.

Even if the court had pushed it as policy, for things to change this quickly was unbelievable.

But PPL—Product Placement—was a sales method that had proven overwhelmingly effective in modern times.

When ratings fell and ad revenues plummeted, how did TV stations cover their production costs?

Didn’t they suddenly have a chaebol family eating pork cutlets at a restaurant, or the characters sucking on red ginseng sticks and twisting around for no reason?

And the same method worked perfectly in Joseon.

[Dosul Cheonjamun] was now such a recognized IP that anyone who hadn’t heard of it was practically a spy.

I’d only slipped potatoes into the story, and look at the blazing reaction.

Actually, I’d already suspected things would go this well.

For one, after the red ginseng trade episode of [Youngest Son of the Merchant Guild] went out, demand for red ginseng had suddenly soared.

And I’d already tested the effect in luxury shops at Unjongga, where it worked beyond expectation.

Why else would I have described in detail the Qing luxury goods Jin Jungil wore in the highlight ending of [Youngest Son of the Merchant Guild]’s triumphant return to Joseon?

“Oh, and Young Master, Mansang and Songsang have asked that you thank the author of [Youngest Son of the Merchant Guild] for them.”

“Really? Did the things Jungil wore sell that well?”

“Yes. Suzhou silk is already out of stock and orders are being taken for next year’s diplomatic trip.”

As Pyongyang’s Yusang rushed to get in on the action after seeing how well the guilds of Uiju and Gaeseong were doing, Kim Josun’s face was one of disbelief.

In fact, doing PPL for Qing luxury goods was both a test and a kind of service.

After all, it was thanks to the cooperation of the local guilds that Kim Josun made a fortune from ginseng and managed to distribute potatoes smoothly.

So, to reward Mansang and Songsang, I’d included their imported luxury goods as a test run for PPL.

But for a mere experiment to have such explosive results—

Well, now I win, you win, everyone wins. What a stroke of luck.

Just then—

“Perhaps for that reason, Mansang has sent me this as a gift…”

Half amazed, half delighted, Kim Josun pulled out a box.

He explained that, although all other gifts and bribes were being refused and put towards potato distribution and the ginseng business, this was an exception.

“What, are you trying to make me your accomplice?”

“Of course not! But this one was difficult to return…”

“Why?”

“You’ll understand once you open it.”

If Father was keeping an eye on this business, it meant I was truly running things honestly and for the national benefit by Joseon standards.

Worried this might one day bring disaster, Kim Josun was being extremely cautious.

“Don’t think that giving me gifts now means you get free PPL next time. Be sure to make that clear.”

“Of course.”

Maybe this was a bribe to get another free PPL next time.

Making it clear to Kim Josun that future PPLs would require proper payment, I snapped open the box he’d presented.

And then—

“Sunglasses?”

“They must have aimed for my child, since I refused the gift myself…”

It was an odd object for Joseon times.

Sunglasses, clearly made by polishing colored quartz.

They were quite small—apparently for a child.

“The craftsman claimed it was just a trifle made from leftover materials for fun, but who knows the truth…”

Well, that excuse made sense.

No one could really resell or assign much value to a unique item like this, even if I returned it.

And, of all things, it was the perfect gift for my lord. No wonder Kim Josun had acted differently today.

“So, this is for me?”

“Young Master, even though you are still young, you have left a major mark in Joseon’s history. Perhaps it’s right to commemorate the achievement…”

At Kim Josun’s words, I put the sunglasses on my face as if entranced and grinned.

Well, a keepsake of this level was fine.

No one would know if I just tucked it away in the extradimensional storage—er, study.

“Alright. Just this once.”

“They really do suit you, Young Master.”

“Director Kim, your flattery’s improving.”

“No, I mean it!”

Through the dark lenses of the sunglasses, my gaze met Kim Josun’s.

Suddenly, I realized how well we were getting along these days.

“Enough of that. Get to work on the next step for distributing potatoes and peanuts.”

“It will be done!!”

And some time later, in a province of Joseon.

For centuries, the same routine had repeated endlessly here, but now, something unexpected had occurred.

A group of strangers had suddenly flocked en masse to the village.

“Come, come!! This way!!”

The people who appeared at the village center were doing something quite odd.

It was strange enough that they’d piled up boxes of unfamiliar crops like a mountain, but what the clever-looking boy acting as their leader shouted was even more incredible.

“If you just take part in this riddle contest, you’ll get a small jug of makgeolli and a plate of buckwheat jelly, or a pair of straw sandals, absolutely free!!”