Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 3-4
by alathe
Our heroine has found a way to enter the palace walls: disguised as a eunuch, she’s bound to escape notice. But to win the crown prince’s approval and aid, she must first demonstrate her skills as a detective. And she’s not the only one — her fiancé faces pressure on all sides to once and for all prove his loyalty to the crown.
EPISODES 3-4
Women in Joseon, Jae-yi complained, are never told you can do it. Go for it. Try. Hwan, for all his ignorance of structural sexism, is willing to do just that. Find a way to meet me in the eastern palace, he says, and we can help each other. You can do it! Try! And so, not quite dismissed, Jae-yi prepares to effectively break into the palace backwards and in heels. Soon, she’s ready to meet Hwan — bundled up in a eunuch’s uniform. However, Hwan’s inner circle is notoriously close-knit. His chronically understaffed eunuchs are accustomed to second-guessing the prince’s whims, and performing passionate, K-pop inspired cheering routines to keep his spirits up. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.
Jae-yi faces a deeply relatable obstacle: lack of access to Google Maps. The palace is immense, and every square looks the same. Fortunately, she stumbles into the delightful PRINCESS HAYEON (Jung Da-eun) and her entourage — or, rather, Hayeon stumbles into her. Without missing a beat, Jae-yi performs the most essential feat of K-drama masculinity: scooping up a woman midair before she falls. Impressed, Hayeon offers to escort her.
Soon, much to the dismay of Hwan’s staff, Jae-yi crashes the prince’s social gathering with Hayeon and their adorably hapless younger brother, PRINCE MYUNGAN (Im Han-bin). She meets Hwan’s eyes. Mission accomplished. But further difficulties loom. When Hayeon asks for the identity of this new, well-spoken eunuch, Jae-yi is reduced to stutters. Hwan lets her suffer for a bit. But after a beat, he consults his eidetic memory — and scolds Go Soon-dol, the very real person who definitely isn’t an awkward impostor, for, uh, forgetting his own name. Later, he and Jae-yi strike a deal. He’ll accept her as one of his people, provided she proves herself by solving an open murder case.
This is well within Jae-yi’s wheelhouse — as we soon learn from Ga-ram. Myung-jin, unimpressed by his apprentice’s limited literacy, asks for a demonstration of her skills. Ga-ram is good at scaling fences! Ga-ram is good at running! And Ga-ram is good at… improvised weaponry! Scarily good, in fact. Myung-jin is thankful he escapes the demonstration alive. A passing mouse doesn’t. Turns out, our dynamic duo of demure Joseon ladies spent their off-days in menswear, prowling the mean streets of Gaeseong and fighting crime. Is anyone else itching for a spinoff?
One thing I love about this show is that everyone’s a detective. Sung-on’s own sleuthing takes him to the residence of OH MAN-SHIK, the worker from the Department of Taoism who supplied Hwan with a bleeding pen. It’s abandoned. Man-shik sold his belongings and fled. To Sung-on’s horror, amongst the items sold was a turtle-shaped compass from his father’s desk. What’s more, his father, LEFT STATE COUNCILOR HAN (Jo Seong-ha) is being a little too cryptic for comfort. Hwan isn’t the only contender for the throne, he tells Sung-on. He’d do best to remember that a king governs by consent of his ministers. What’s more, he’s pretty sure Hwan doesn’t trust Sung-on.
Nor does he entirely trust Jae-yi. However, he’s willing to feed her, clothe her, and let her lodge in his secret room beneath the library. Jae-yi feels a touch of remorse for all those times she called him a jerk under her breath. For one thing, the secret room is littered with evidence of Hwan’s fraught occupancy during the year he spent injured. An arrow-pitted wall provides eloquent testament to the months he toiled alone, forcing his bow-arm back into submission.
A eunuch’s work is never done, and Jae-yi’s has scarcely started. Next morning, stumbling bleary through identical courtyards, she rushes back to the eastern palace — shoeless. Having bungled the task of dressing herself, her next challenge is to dress the prince. It’s distractingly intimate. But, mostly she’s just bad at it. Hwan observes, amused, as she scrutinizes each belt buckle like it’s an unsolved murder mystery. And then — he smiles. This reminds me, he says, of when we were children.
This isn’t the first time they’ve met. It’s not even the first time he’s seen her in men’s clothing. Years ago, Jae-yi remorselessly intimidated Hwan and Sung-on out of two nyang. But, true to the heroine we know and love, it was for a good cause. She had been saving up to rescue SHIM YOUNG, an orphan who had inherited his parents’ horrifying debts. What’s more, apparently Jae-yi fell in love with Sung-on somewhere in the middle of shaking him down for cash. At this, Hwan is royally perplexed. Does Jae-yi mean to say that she didn’t fall for him? Outrageous! He’s so rattled, he almost lets Jae-yi leave him with his hat on backwards.
The feelings were well on their way to being mutual. Once upon a time, Sung-on sent Jae-yi a pair of silk slippers and a letter full of tentative sentiment. Jae-yi and Ga-ram ate up every line with glee. Now, Sung-on sadly ponders that same shoe, recovered from the scene of Jae-yi’s escape. As for Jae-yi? She’s forced to watch as the irrepressible Princess Hayeon flirts with her once-fiancé over a game of jachigi. You can hardly blame Hayeon; what’s a girl to do when the object of her affections is hung up over a murderer? Pretend to be bad at throwing sticks! But Jae-yi is desolate at the knowledge that Sung-on has looked straight at her — and seen nothing but an unremarkable eunuch.
Sentiment has to take a backseat. There’s work to be done. At the behest of a grumpy Tae-gang, Jae-yi finds herself carting a body across town towards the autopsy specialist, Myung-jin. On the plus side, this allows our girls to unexpectedly reunite! On the downside, it means Ga-ram has to explain the presence of several dozen posters of Jae-yi’s face, all whilst tactfully encouraging Myung-jin to shut up about his crush already. Whilst perhaps not the most awkward conversation ever had in front of a lifeless corpse, this certainly ranks. The corpse in question is the herald Hwan sent with wedding gifts to Gaeseong. The manner of death? Poison. And the poison? Amur viper — same as the arrow that hit Hwan last year.
Elsewhere, Sung-on watches Hwan sharpen his pitch-perfect swordplay skills, dwells on his father’s words, and pointedly doesn’t tell him about the turtle. Instead, he places the incriminating evidence on his father’s desk. But to his shock, he receives no confession — just a lecture. Opening his desk drawer, Councilor Han takes out an identical wooden turtle. The compass was a gift given to all three state councilors, and six ministers besides. Sung-on, Councilor Han sighs, ought to have trusted his prince. That he put family ties ahead of his duty reveals why Hwan doesn’t rely on him. Sung-on, it seems, is destined to forever fail tests he had no idea he was taking.
Loyalty comes a little easier for others. After dabbling in blood, guts, and gore, Jae-yi and Ga-ram find time to talk apart. Hand in hand, they confess how thankful they are to be in each other’s lives. Neither wants the other to think they take that for granted.
Afterwards, for Jae-yi, it’s back to the eastern palace, to share her findings with Hwan. According to their deductions, the herald was murdered on the way to the Min house. The killer must have played the part of the messenger, passing along the gifts — and the faked letter. Jae-yi strains to remember their face, but the details elude her. To her surprise, Hwan understands. He remembers little from directly after his brother died. Still, shared trauma or not, it’s time for Jae-yi to prove her capabilities. Soon, a public discourse will be held concerning an unsolved murder case — run by none other than her ex-fiancé.
Jae-yi’s not the only one with plenty to prove. Sung-on is determined that this goes smoothly. Confident, he outlines the cases before Hwan. Three murders took place recently, all of senior citizens, with bodies placed at the north, south, and west of the city. Two bodies had letters carved into them: Myeol and Song. The middle one did not.
With one direction on the compass remaining, Sung-on is adamant that soldiers be sent east. Jae-yi has other ideas, and, at Hwan’s encouragement, she steps up to openly challenge the man she loves. The killer is superstitious; that much is obvious. However, Sung-on missed a clue: the murderer strikes on lucky days. With help from Hwan’s supercharged memory skills, Jae-yi calculates that the next kill will occur in six days, to the west. Moreover, she suggests, perhaps Sung-on overlooked something else on the body without the letter?
Hwan makes his decision. Troops will be sent to protect the east. However, Jae-yi may investigate the second body. It’s an obvious compromise, but Councilor Han looks rueful. Sung-on has disappointed him once more.
Back in the library, Hwan gruffly orders Jae-yi to search for a book labeled Doctrine of the Mean. Before she can argue, he shuts the door in her face. Yet again cursing him for a rude bastard, Jae-yi goes scrabbling for the book. Yet again, seconds later, she finds herself repenting. Next to the book in question is a bright red apple — and a letter of congratulations. An emotionally constipated display? Sure. But, adorable? Absolutely. Cuter still, the next day, as Jae-yi fumbles a little less incompetently with Hwan’s overcoat, he asks her if the apple was tasty. They meet each other’s eyes — and grin.
There’s been no shortage of adorable moments this week. I’m going to be thinking about the way Hwan silently yet judgmentally corrected Jae-yi’s terrible dressing-room technique, only to end up flummoxed as she got close, for a while. I enjoy how awkward Hwan is! When I first learned this drama would feature an arrogant prince, I expected someone controlling and manipulative. Hwan’s arrogance is subtler: it’s the unthinking ease of someone who’s been told he’s one of the most important people on the planet. He isn’t outraged when Jae-yi challenges him — he’s ruffled, as if he can’t quite understand why things aren’t going his way. He’s all smirks and placid poise when he’s in a situation he can control, and falls to pieces when he isn’t. It’s delightful.
Our female leads remain an absolute joy. Ga-ram’s gleefully lethal demonstration of her battle prowess stole my heart. Meanwhile, Jae-yi goes from strength to strength: at every turn, she can be vulnerable, impish, stoic, or utterly out of her depth. I loved the way they layered her speech about wanting to see the world over her entering the palace gate. So often in Joseon dramas, the royal palace is a claustrophobic, stifling place. Here, we see another side of it: dizzyingly vast, and teeming with new experiences.
Still, I can’t help but wonder how long it’ll last. Even if she falls in love with Hwan, could someone as independent as Jae-yi really enjoy a life within the palace’s confines? Those vast courtyards might start to feel an awful lot smaller… But for now, I can’t wait to see how Jae-yi and Ga-ram navigate their new lives, and the new opportunities afforded to them!
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Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 3-4
Source: Buzz Pinay Daily
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