Shilla Kingdom of the eighth century or the Choson Kingdom, which, after five hundred years, fell to the Japanese in 1910. And because this kind of re-creation cost a lot of money, Dong Jin’s movies were not making their money back. The sets and costuming were killing him.
Soong’s contentedness was disappearing. She never got to see her daughter; instead she watched her husband stoically lose money. Though he did not complain to her, his hair seemed to get grayer every month and his weight was dropping dramatically. Obsessing over history was making him old. She found a real fear again. She suggested that they take a break, but Dong Jin refused. Sitting on the patio in front of the garden one night, having tea at the very same table he had made the fourteen-year-old Kwang Ja the offer, the twenty-one-year-old Soong Nan confronted him. She sat down in front of the brooding Dong Jin and poured him and herself tea. She did not feel afraid in broaching the subject with him. They, unlike many traditional Korean couples, shared an open dialogue. Though it was tradition that she be spoken down to, he never seemed to do it. What she did fear, however, was the possibility that he would not heed her advice. She knew if he went on the way he did, his life would be cut short.
“Perhaps we should slow down,” she said, after sipping her tea.
Dong Jin smiled, then sighed. “We can’t afford to.”
“But it seems that not slowing down will cost us more.”
Dong Jin scratched at the short wooden table with a single fingernail. “Do you remember the first time we had tea at this table?”
Soong put her hand on his. “Of course. I’ll never forget that.”
Dong Jin laughed. “You were a real firecracker. I knew I had to marry you even then.”
Soong smiled. “I didn’t. I didn’t know much of anything back then.”
Dong Jin scratched at the table again, then looked into her brown eyes. She felt completely comfortable when he did it. It may have been the training in acting that enabled her to do it; of course she was no longer the skittish girl who feared everyone was looking at her, but then it was just her husband. She’d seen the face so many times, it was as comfortable to look at as her own. “You knew the most important thing any living thing should know,” he said. “You knew how to survive. I don’t think you’ll ever lose that.”
“I owe it to luck. I owe it to you. Besides, you gave me the silver knife. After that, the idea of survival became easy.” She shook her head. “The Japanese thing. What a child I was. You taught me that I was just an adolescent fearing men, as most adolescent girls should. The knife took care of that fear. You took care of it. I’m on to you. Always the storyteller. Always using symbols.”
Dong Jin shook his head. “No, you do not owe me or that knife for your survival. You owe no one but yourself. The money, yeah, maybe you owe me a little.”
Soong laughed. “How much do I owe you?”
Dong Jin looked into her eyes again. “You don’t owe me anymore, I owe you. You’ve made me truly happy.”
Soong put her hand on his cheek. “Then why can’t we just slow down and enjoy our happiness?”
“Do you still have the silver knife?”
“Of course.”
Dong Jin smiled. “You never even needed it. But if I were to... ”
Soong interrupted him. “I will always have the knife. And when it’s time, our daughter will have it.”
“I hope she never needs it.”
“Do you notice that she doesn’t cry?”
Dong Jin’s face lit up. “Yes. Sometimes I watch her in the mornings before the sun comes up. She wakes early every day. But she does not cry. She waits. Can you imagine? Having consideration as an infant?”
Soong smiled. “She is pure goodness.”
Dong Jin began scratching the table again. “Why do you scratch at the table?” Soong asked.
“Look at this worn mark over here,” he said, pointing to a smooth groove which looked like the beginnings of a
Soong’s contentedness was disappearing. She never got to see her daughter; instead she watched her husband stoically lose money. Though he did not complain to her, his hair seemed to get grayer every month and his weight was dropping dramatically. Obsessing over history was making him old. She found a real fear again. She suggested that they take a break, but Dong Jin refused. Sitting on the patio in front of the garden one night, having tea at the very same table he had made the fourteen-year-old Kwang Ja the offer, the twenty-one-year-old Soong Nan confronted him. She sat down in front of the brooding Dong Jin and poured him and herself tea. She did not feel afraid in broaching the subject with him. They, unlike many traditional Korean couples, shared an open dialogue. Though it was tradition that she be spoken down to, he never seemed to do it. What she did fear, however, was the possibility that he would not heed her advice. She knew if he went on the way he did, his life would be cut short.
“Perhaps we should slow down,” she said, after sipping her tea.
Dong Jin smiled, then sighed. “We can’t afford to.”
“But it seems that not slowing down will cost us more.”
Dong Jin scratched at the short wooden table with a single fingernail. “Do you remember the first time we had tea at this table?”
Soong put her hand on his. “Of course. I’ll never forget that.”
Dong Jin laughed. “You were a real firecracker. I knew I had to marry you even then.”
Soong smiled. “I didn’t. I didn’t know much of anything back then.”
Dong Jin scratched at the table again, then looked into her brown eyes. She felt completely comfortable when he did it. It may have been the training in acting that enabled her to do it; of course she was no longer the skittish girl who feared everyone was looking at her, but then it was just her husband. She’d seen the face so many times, it was as comfortable to look at as her own. “You knew the most important thing any living thing should know,” he said. “You knew how to survive. I don’t think you’ll ever lose that.”
“I owe it to luck. I owe it to you. Besides, you gave me the silver knife. After that, the idea of survival became easy.” She shook her head. “The Japanese thing. What a child I was. You taught me that I was just an adolescent fearing men, as most adolescent girls should. The knife took care of that fear. You took care of it. I’m on to you. Always the storyteller. Always using symbols.”
Dong Jin shook his head. “No, you do not owe me or that knife for your survival. You owe no one but yourself. The money, yeah, maybe you owe me a little.”
Soong laughed. “How much do I owe you?”
Dong Jin looked into her eyes again. “You don’t owe me anymore, I owe you. You’ve made me truly happy.”
Soong put her hand on his cheek. “Then why can’t we just slow down and enjoy our happiness?”
“Do you still have the silver knife?”
“Of course.”
Dong Jin smiled. “You never even needed it. But if I were to... ”
Soong interrupted him. “I will always have the knife. And when it’s time, our daughter will have it.”
“I hope she never needs it.”
“Do you notice that she doesn’t cry?”
Dong Jin’s face lit up. “Yes. Sometimes I watch her in the mornings before the sun comes up. She wakes early every day. But she does not cry. She waits. Can you imagine? Having consideration as an infant?”
Soong smiled. “She is pure goodness.”
Dong Jin began scratching the table again. “Why do you scratch at the table?” Soong asked.
“Look at this worn mark over here,” he said, pointing to a smooth groove which looked like the beginnings of a
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