Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 19-20 (Final)

Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 19-20 (Final)

by alathe

Our heroes must right a decades-old wrong. But with our heroine’s identity compromised, and their enemies closing in, a desperate sacrifice must be made. Still, it’s nothing grit, determination, and a well-utilized shovel can’t resolve!

EPISODES 19-20

Councilor Han’s letter tells a tale we’ve long suspected. Remember those old Gaeseong family grave repairs, so deftly foreshadowed all this while? Amid the rubble, Jae-yi’s father discovered an old tombstone, presumptuously situated on land reserved for the king. It was for Song Soo-cheon, leader of the Byeokcheon rebellion. Underneath was an inscription to his child, Song Hyun — a baby born on March 9th. Prince Myungan’s birthday! Sure enough, the queen tells Myungan a sentimental bedtime story. It’s about a gisaeng and a blacksmith, who married surrounded by the community they loved.

Myung-jin and Ga-ram are dispatched post-haste to Gaeseong. The tombstone, for which Young once tore through the building, is buried under the kitchen. Ga-ram waxes nostalgic over her old home. Look at those walls she and Jae-yi scaled in the glory days of their Holmes-and-Watson act! She wonders if they’ll ever return. At this, Myung-jin bridles. How could they, when Ga-ram swore she’d follow him forever? Ga-ram looks like she can’t decide whether to be annoyed or pleased at his knack for remembering rhetorical flourishes.

Meanwhile, Hwan returns to see Jae-yi with blood-drenched hands, flanked by guards. When he demands she be released, Jae-yi shakes her head. She’s already confessed. Eyes resolute, she raises her voice for the last time as Go Soon-dol. She is the murderer of Gaeseong, Min Jae-yi: assassin of the So-eun, and would-be killer of the crown prince. As she’s flung into a cell, Hwan is powerless to intervene. He knows what she’s doing. It’s one last desperate gambit to keep Hwan’s own name clean.

When he finds her in prison, she bows to him — calm, despite the looming threat of torture. Hwan, she insists, must become the benevolent king her father always trusted he would. She’ll go to her death unafraid. But perhaps, she admits, with one regret: never getting to confess her love. And so, she meets Hwan’s eyes through the bars of her cell. No more games. She’ll risk a little disrespect, for old time’s sake. The man she loves — the man she can only tell now, when it’s all over — is Hwan. And, regardless of how it ended, she was overwhelmingly happy to be by his side.

Sadly, Jae-yi’s sacrifice can’t silence Councilor “Chuckles” Jo; it’s a feeding frenzy for his half of the court. Ministers are popping up like whack-a-mole to demand that Hwan be deposed for harboring a wanted — female! — criminal. But the last and loudest complaint is unexpected. White-clad in the courtyard, Hwan himself kneels before his father… and calls for his own deposition. That guy’s got guts of steel! And so, with heavy heart, the king makes a damning call. Hwan will be deposed, to live in exile on Ganghwa Island. As for Jae-yi? Execution.

Sung-on is awkwardly courted by two separate schemers. Councilor Jo wants another stab at murdering Hwan — this time, with Sung-on’s aid. Meanwhile, the queen just wants him to deliver some lovingly-brewed tea to Hwan. Nothing to do with the blood-guzzling fish on her desk, of course. Sung-on accepts the very unpoisonous tea, and Councilor Jo’s offer — but only after getting the latter in writing.

And so, Hwan and his entourage make their miserable way to his place of exile. It’s not long before they’re ambushed by masked assassins, who swarm upon Sung-on’s nod. Hwan is swiftly sent tumbling from his horse, held at swordpoint by his best friend. But, naturally, it’s all for show: no sooner have the assassins scurried away, Sung-on is politely apologizing for the inconvenience. Naturally, this was all part of the plan! After his critical empathy failure last episode, Sung-on’s hopped straight onto the redemption express; he’s accepted that Hwan and his very-much-ex-fiancee are in love. Hence, like any good friend, he’s volunteered to thwart several murder plots at once.

Meanwhile, Jae-yi, dragged out to execution, is accosted by a similar-looking group of masked bandits. One of them unceremoniously heaves her over his shoulder. The second he drops her, she kicks him between the legs… which he dodges, with swiftness born of experience. That’s right: it’s Tae-gang! The two trade slightly fonder barbs than usual, in a way that almost looks like friendship. Soon, the Shield Defense Squad are reunited — with Sung-on presumably having been granted a temporary membership badge.

The gang set forth for Naean Village, where Tae-san implored Tae-gang to find him. The Byeokcheon crew are understandably suspicious of intruders; our heroes are delivered to camp trussed up in ropes. But luckily, not everyone is convinced by Tae-san’s “slit throats, ask questions never” policy. Hemmed in by weapons, Hwan still looks every inch the statesman. He apologizes for the injustice they’ve faced. More than anything, he wants to hear the truth. After Bok-soon, Man-deok, and some ex palace workers vouch for his sincerity, the people of Byeokcheon lower their sickles to tell their story.

Terrorized via ruinous taxation and beatings, the people of Byeokcheon wrote a letter of complaint to the king. Bravely, each of them signed it by name. But the letter was intercepted by Governor Jo Won-oh, who captured and tortured its signatories. Crucially, Song the blacksmith never led a rebellion: he simply gave the people of Byeokcheon tools to break into the jail where their loved ones were held. By the time they burst in, the authorities had fled. Won-oh was never stabbed by rebels; he wounded himself, and used it as “proof” of a Byeokcheon rebellion. By then, the so-called rebels had hung up white flags of surrender. The Jo family ignored them: Byeokcheon was burned to the ground.

There’s something our heroes don’t learn: one of the first to sign the letter was an intrepid woman named YEON-HEE. Once a gisaeng, she was freed by her soon-to-be husband, Song. When Byeokcheon was invaded by Councilor Jo’s forces, he died protecting her. Later, she became a gisaeng once more to kill the man who murdered her husband. However, by a strange fluke of providence, Councilor Jo offered her the chance for better revenge. Ignorant of her identity, he demanded that Yeon-hee masquerade as his eligible niece — and ultimately helped her become queen.

Now, only a decade too late, Councilor Jo realizes the name “Yeon-hee” is on the Byeokcheon letter of complaint. There’s only one response: blinding villainous rage! To be fair, if I had that guy’s knack for hiring my worst enemies, I’d scream too. He storms into the queen’s chamber, raging that he’ll massacre her people. He knows they’re hiding in Naean Village. The queen — or, Yeon-hee, as I suspect she’d rather be known — whips out a dagger, swiping him across the cheek. Alas, she’s quickly overpowered. As she screams for Court Lady Kwon, he laughs that he’s already dealt with her. She’s bleeding out by the door.

In her last moments, Court Lady Kwon takes Yeon-hee’s hand. You must not abandon our people, she says. You must not become like that man. Despairing, Yeon-hee uses the last weapon in her arsenal. She leaves Hayeon with a bundle of papers, including the letter of complaint — proof of the Byeokcheon massacre. Then, she prepares one last flask of tea. She’ll take the fate intended for Hwan: to wander the country, insane and alone. As the king races to her side, she raises the fish eggs to her lips.

Back at Naean Village, Hwan acknowledges there’s no apology great enough for what Byeokcheon has suffered. All he can do is ease their current plight. With the authority of the crown prince’s plaque he still wields, he swears they’ll return home. There’ll be a five year tax exemption, special state exams, and a new governor to protect them: Sung-on. Still, he more than anyone knows how tricky it is to trust. Horrified to learn that Naean Village has no wells, he realizes it’s time to demonstrate the most important thing he’s learned over the course of twenty episodes. Diplomacy? Compassion? No — shoveling!

Hwan toils throughout the night to wrest water from the bone-dry ground. In the end, it doesn’t matter that the soil won’t yield for royalty any more than it yielded to tens years’ worth of digging. What matters is that, if only for twelve hours, he shared in their suffering — that, after all his wanderings amid the common people, our arrogant prince has learned to wield a spade without complaint! (Not well, mind. But enthusiastically.) The people of Byeokcheon help him up and begin to work by his side.

Unfortunately, they have Councilor Jo and his loyal lackeys with which to contend. In they come, right on cue — armed, dangerous, and yearning for murder. But this too, our heroes have accounted for. As soon as Councilor Jo’s army breaches Naean’s borders, Councilor Han comes riding to the rescue with the troops his king ordered him to rally! The battle is brief, but bloody. Jae-yi ushers out the women and children, before diving back into the fray, raising hell with a stolen sword. Hwan and Councilor Jo lock eyes across the battlefield. Their weapons clash. Councilor Jo’s sword snaps; Hwan’s reaches all the way to his enemy’s throat.

But he has time for one last, bitter blow: seconds before his capture, he hurls his broken weapon at Hwan. Tae-gang dives to take the blow. But Tae-san is faster, catching the sword in his chest. Slumping into Tae-gang’s arms, he whispers to Hwan not to punish the people of Byeokcheon. They weren’t involved in the queen’s scheming. As for him — it’s enough that he was able, in masquerading as his brother, to laugh a little. To live, for once.

Our epilogue is a veritable calendar of comeuppance. Hwan is reinstated as crown prince, whilst Sung-on oversees the rebuilding of Byeokcheon. Meanwhile, Councilor Jo is literally torn in five pieces — some of which is actually shown on screen! As for Yeon-hee, there’s no escaping narrative retribution. She stumbles through the land cradling an imaginary child, insensitive to the jeers in the marketplace. But eventually, she makes her way to Byeokcheon, where she’s embraced by an exiled Myungan. As Jae-yi remarks to Ga-ram, she’ll accept this as retribution for her family’s murder — and let the rest go.

True to her promise, Ga-ram, now freed, remains with Myung-jin, providing herbal remedies to the city, and, no doubt, the odd autopsy. After a year, she’s greeted by Myung-jin’s broom-wielding parents! They’re here to very lovingly, erm, disown their son. Myung-jin is elated. Finally, he’s free to live as his alter-ego (with a flourish, he whips out Ga-ram’s shoddily-spelled paper) Gom Mung-jin! It’s a name, he remarks, slyly, that goes rather well with Ga-ram, no? The two exchange adorably bashful grins.

Meanwhile, acting monarch Hwan receives a serious medical diagnosis. Lovesickness! It started around the time a certain eunuch left the palace. Do not, Hwan orders the court historian, write that down. (He writes it down.) Wait — what are you doing with that pen?! (He writes that down too.) Long story short, the entire inner court is begging their ruler to visit a small school down the road.

And so, a year late, as Jae-yi packs up her books for the day, she receives a long-anticipated guest. Hwan hopes she’s doing well. He, for one, is doing awfully. The palace feels dead without her. Barely concealing her grin, Jae-yi asks if he’s here to keep his promise… to make her head eunuch. Hwan scoffs, gesturing to the gate. What kind of eunuch rides in a palanquin? He’s here to finally answer her confession. And, if Jae-yi insists — she does! — he’ll say it clearly and unambiguously. He loves her. As the episode closes, the two share a first, utterly joyful kiss.

And there you have it, folks: the kingdom is saved; the youth are in full bloom! This drama has been a fun ride, and although it didn’t always stick the landing, there’s plenty I enjoyed. Chiefly, the fact that Hwan’s kingliest act in the entire show was simply doing an honest night’s shoveling! I also adore how, in a show full of anarchic shifts in status, the final transformation was Myung-jin’s: how he and Ga-ram found freedom in ditching the nobility. And though I’ve had my doubts about Jae-yi being cooped up as queen, this show has amply demonstrated that if our heroes find their lives stifling, the solution is simple: don a disguise, and roam free! Gleefully unrealistic though this might be for reigning monarchs, I’m more than happy to accept it.

Of course, as an inveterate villain-sympathizer, I feel terrible for Yeon-hee. Magical fish eggs of madness were always a difficult plot point to swallow, and I’m sad that she, er, did. The just-so-ness of this story’s ending was charming in places, but occasionally a tad smug for my taste. But above all, in these last few episodes, I would have liked even more of a spotlight on the relationship between our leads. After all, when I think of this show, I’ll always remember two things. One: shovels, and all they represent. And two: Jae-yi being her impish, irrepressible self, ruffling Hwan’s feathers with her teasing, as he pretends not to find it delightful. And whilst I wish there’d been more of that, what we were given was truly wonderful!

 
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Source: Buzz Pinay Daily