Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 11-12
by alathe
Our heroes are starting to uncover a bigger mystery than they bargained for. But soon, their investigations will bring them into conflict with some powerful people — including, it seems, the king himself…
EPISODES 11-12
Hwan’s questioning of the government workers from Byeokcheon yields a big fat crop of nothing. Disheartened, he commands Jae-yi to follow him outside, where he can walk and ponder. It takes a little while for her to get with the program, but once she realizes he truly has nothing on his mind but a broody moonlit stroll, she immediately sets about attacking any obstacle that might get in his way. (Said obstacles mostly consist of small rocks.) Finally, Hwan voices his doubts. There was nothing in the official diary about Song being interrogated. Doesn’t that seem fishy? For all that Jae-yi refuses to sympathize with the Byeokcheon bandits, Hwan can’t shake the thought that there’s more to the story.
Perhaps, in unravelling the peony incense mystery, they can disentangle the rest of the case. And so, Scholar Park and Eunuch Go make a beeline for the city, to enlist the help of Myung-jin’s monk mentor, a.k.a. Weird Fish Guy! After one whiff of the odd incense, something seems to click — but, as soon as he catches sight of Hwan, he pauses. There’s… nothing odd about it, he declares. As far as he’s concerned, this incense is as normal as the fish he carries everywhere in a bottle (which, incidentally, he feeds with drops of his own blood)! Further discussion is curtailed when a young boy comes crashing through the inn, clutching a stolen bundle to his chest.
Our heroes go sprinting after the thief, in full vigilante mode, but the chase is short-lived. The boy (Yoon Ga-on) is unfortunate enough to crash into Jo Won-oh, Minister for Justice — former Governor of Byeokcheon. There’s one casualty of the collision: Won-oh’s precious porcelain vase. This might have been his firstborn child, for all the screaming, ranting, and violence that follows. Ga-ram tries to shield the boy, only to face the full brunt of his wrath. Myung-jin comes barreling in loudly to her defense, but logic is no antidote to the vanity of the Joseon 1%. Having angered a government minister, all their lives are on the line.
However, one glimpse at the unassuming Scholar Park, and Won-oh knows he’s messed up big time. Mildly, Hwan suggests that Won-oh show mercy, like a good Confucian — or else face consequences for carrying contraband porcelain. Stuttering with thwarted rage, Won-oh releases the boy. Turns out, he was stealing food for his sick sister. Our heroes learn that the two were orphaned at Byeokcheon. Hwan acts immediately, arranging provisions and medicine for the penniless children.
Jae-yi watches in fond approval. Her prince, she realizes, was right about Byeokcheon: they’re his people too. As they amble back palace-wards, she points delightedly to their shadows on the ground. It feels so good to be walking side by side! On impulse, she moves so that her shadow-head nestles daringly against his shadow-shoulder. Hwan, bewitched, befuddled, and bewildered by this scandalous display of shadow-canoodling, jerks away from her. No clinging — that’s an order!
Elsewhere, political gears are grinding in ominous directions. Right State Councilor Jo has received a second red letter: “Du Guk Byung Min.” It means, to eat away at the nation and cause illness amongst its people. They’re the precise words used to denounce his brother, Governor of Byeokcheon.
Seized by evil inspiration, Councilor Jo delivers the first red letter — “Song will destroy the Yi family” — to the king, as proof that there are Byeokcheon rebels still living. Soon, a harrowing decree is issued. All people from Byeokcheon are from henceforth banned from the state exam. All government workers from the same region are to be exiled from the palace. Already, in the city square, hatred brews against the so-called bandits of Byeokcheon — whilst dozens of frightened workers are turfed from their homes.
Hwan kneels in desperation before the king: won’t he reconsider? Outside the door, Councilor Jo lurks, eavesdropping before Hwan’s entourage. Jae-yi, gathering her courage, cries out loudly: “The Right State Councilor has arrived!” With a poisonous look that promises her meddling will not go unpunished, Councilor Jo departs.
After warning Hwan once against trifling with politics, the king’s ire has been stirred. Does Hwan consider him an inadequate ruler? (Well, if the shoe fits…) Hwan, to his own shock, finds himself choking on tears. You told me to doubt everyone, he says. When I look at you, I hardly know what I was protecting. At the very least, I wanted to be a crown prince my brother would not be ashamed of. And now, here I am. A puppet prince, ashamed of myself.
The next day, Hwan steps out of his chambers — only to encounter a small army’s worth of guards. By order of the king, he is confined to quarters. Banned from all lectures, forbidden from the training grounds, and exiled from his family’s company, Hwan has been stripped of all the rituals of his rank. After all, what is a crown prince who is not seen in public? Days pass. Then, weeks. It takes a month for him to break. Collapsing before Jae-yi, he finally voices his fear: that his father has abandoned him completely.
Amid Hwan’s montage of lockdown-induced despair (and oh, how we’ve all been there), the camera settles on Councilor Jo. And… look, dude, I’m trying. I really am. But, how am I meant to help you beat the “generic cackling villain” allegations when there’s an entire scene devoted to you doing nothing but an extended evil laugh?
Meanwhile, Jae-yi has been working tirelessly to keep Hwan connected with the outside world. Books are useful smuggling vehicles for letters. With these, she can deliver instructions to Tae-gang, who’s been tasked with investigating the man who headed the military during the Byeokcheon riots. Alas, she runs into trouble enacting Hwan’s latest scheme. By which I mean, she runs into Councilor Jo — fresh on his way from terrorizing the queen, and no doubt kicking the odd puppy while he’s at it. Papers slide from her grasp as he yanks her by the collar. He knows her secret: she isn’t Go Soon-dol.
But he’s stopped short before he can demand Hwan’s letter. Sung-on comes swooping to the rescue! Councilor Jo tries to brazen it out, but strangling a eunuch in the royal grounds is an awkward look on anyone: after a snide jab at Sung-on’s loyalties, he’s forced to back down. Luckily, the message is for our chivalrous second lead. He and Jae-yi have a mission: free the prince.
They arrange to meet in the city, where scholars congregate. Jae-yi lingers by the marketplace, looking wistfully at a silk ornament. Life is complex, gender even more so — but ribbons are pretty. She snaps out of her reverie as Sung-on catches up, and squawks an explanation: it’s for her sister! With a gentle smile — how much does he know, I wonder? — Sung-on hands her the ribbon. It’s on him.
Meanwhile, Ga-ram is resplendent in silk, looking every inch the Sungkyunkwan scholar. So, for that matter, is Myung-jin — though, he’s quick to assert that he and Sungkyunkwan parted ways long ago, the life of a visionary genius being a lonely one, and so forth. (Translation: he got expelled.) In their fraudulent robes, they mingle amongst the students, spreading gossip. The crown prince, they claim, will be competing in this month’s archery contest.
Sung-on hauls Myung-jin to one side. What business does the disgraced son of the Chief State Councilor have spreading idle rumors? Myung-jin goggles. What business does the son of the Left State Councilor have being so — so impressive? Children all over the city suffer in comparison! Amid this kerfuffle, it becomes clear that Myung-jin only wants to help. Moreover, his plan dovetails nicely with theirs. Sung-on and Jae-yi soon meet with the foremost student of Sungkyunkwan, SCHOLAR JO (Cha Seo-won). He too is a member of the ubiquitous Jo family. Hwan was nonetheless adamant they could trust him — his entrance exam essay proclaimed him a man of honor.
His faith is not misplaced. Soon, Scholar Jo, flanked by hundreds of students, raises his voice to the palace gates. The library at Sungkyunkwan, he declares, lacks books of quality. Conversely, the crown prince’s library is vast. Would the king allow Hwan to attend the royal archery event, and use his much-vaunted memory skills to share his knowledge? The king spares a rare smile. How could he refuse?
After a month of imprisonment, Hwan feels the sun on his face. At the tournament, he is a beacon of princely perfection: his archery is flawless; his memory beyond compare. Meeting his father’s expressionless gaze, he wonders — was this a test? Meanwhile, Won-oh is spitting mad: how dare Scholar Jo work against them? But, Councilor Jo winces. Scholar Park walks by with superb indifference. He hails from the main family line… the graybeards may address this young man as grandfather, or not at all!
Jae-yi, meanwhile, is having the time of her life cataloging books: in another life, she’d be a ruthless PA. There’s a moment of awkwardness when Hwan hears about the gift Sung-on bought her “sister.” He’s suddenly filled with a jealousy he can’t hope to explain. All he can do is silently think, if you’d asked, I’d have bought you hundreds of ribbons. Later, in town, he drags Jae-yi to a market stall. Brusquely, he holds a bracelet up to her wrist, nods — and buys it.
Jae-yi spends the rest of the night in torment. Was the bracelet meant for her? If so — what does that mean? Soon, though, she finds herself brooding on another bracelet: the one Young left with his suicide note. Not for the first time, she strains for any recollection that might shed light on her family’s murder. She’s certain Young never touched the breakfast she prepared. But the herald, the one who brought the weddings gifts and passed on a note the crown prince never sent… can she recall his face? For the first time in months, she realizes that she can. And it would almost be better if she couldn’t, because the face in her mind is Tae-gang’s.
Jae-yi is out of her room like a shot. Where’s Hwan? She’s terrified to learn he’s with Tae-gang. Unthinking, she plunges through the palace, bursting in on the prince and his guard. Don’t trust him, she urges Hwan. Frantic, she snatches Tae-gang’s sword and holds it to his neck, pushing the prince behind her. Alas, she’s up against a trained bodyguard; with a brutal shove, Tae-gang sends her reeling, seizing back his sword and holding her against the ground. As Jae-yi looks up, she recognizes the face she saw when letters rained down from the sky — the man who held an arrow to her throat.
Whew — what a week! I love how much our leads are learning from each other. Much as Hwan has a warehouse worth of trust issues to unpack, Jae-yi isn’t free from a noblewoman’s prejudice: her first impulse was to dismiss the people of Byeokcheon as bandits. I love that Hwan was the one to steer her towards thinking twice. And that’s the beauty of this pairing, for me. It’s not that they’re the perfect team. It’s not that they change each other’s minds straight off that bat. It’s that when they do work together, and when they do believe each other, they’re always the better for it. There’s a growing respect between them that’ll be tested once again next episode — after all, how is Hwan meant to trust in his friends when they’re at each other’s throats?
Meanwhile, I love what the show is doing with the idea of legacy. There’s Sung-on and his uneasy relationship with Councilor Han: how he works so hard to become the man his father wants him to effortlessly be. There’s the twisted history that the queen carries — that silent responsibility of remembering past injustice. There’s Jae-yi, whose father inspired her to learn, but never quite gave her the encouragement she craved. And then, of course, there’s Hwan: living in the shadow of the king’s paranoia, and ashamed of every step he takes. None of them can hide forever. But, for now… bring on the convoluted political scheming!
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Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 11-12
Source: Buzz Pinay Daily
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