Chapter 4 – Heejeongwon (Part 3)

The text from Choi Dowook came at dawn.

[Woo Junhee.]

It was from an unknown number. He didn’t identify himself, just sent Junhee’s name, those three syllables.

Receiving it, Junhee’s heart started pounding for some reason. She stared at her phone under the blanket, waiting for the next text. The next text came after a short but not too long time.

[I was wrong.]

It was just another short text, but it brought a sense of relief and perhaps joy to her heart.

[I won’t curse.]

[I won’t fight.]

[And push you.]

The texts came rapidly and then paused. This time, Junhee sent a text.

[…Push what?]

[I was wrong.]

Her heart swelled like a balloon.

[I was really, really wrong.]

[So don’t stop.]

[I’ll be good to you.]

Each letter he sent piled up in her heart, making it swell even more. The swelling heart turned into a smile.

It was funny how quickly her mood improved after saying such harsh words and crying so much. She convinced herself that Choi Dowook had always been annoying anyway.

I didn’t even know Choi Dowook’s number until now.

Thinking that, she saved the number. 

I’ll forgive him this time. 

She thought, reading and rereading the texts he sent.

She felt special for some reason. 

This annoying Choi Dowook held onto me. He apologized and sent several texts because he couldn’t bear not seeing me forever.

She imagined Dowook tapping the keypad with his fingertips. She empathized with Dowook’s anxious heart, unable to sleep until dawn.

Her heart swelled like a round balloon. She couldn’t easily fall asleep. When she finally fell asleep as dawn deepened, Junhee dreamed of her body floating above the bed.

***

Dust billowed following the rumbling bus. The bus stopped and started several times, but the scenery outside didn’t change much.

Fields or farms. Trees or grass.

Against the bright blue sky, small yellow flowers here and there were like a modest variation in the monotonous landscape.

Two elderly people in the front seat had been arguing for over ten minutes. They endlessly raised their voices about whether to open the bus window on such a dusty day. The village bus driver tried to stop them to no avail.

An old woman with a bun and an old woman with permed hair started pointing fingers at each other. The dialect, a mix between Jeolla and Chungcheong, clattered in her ears. The driver, annoyed, turned on the radio. Trot lyrics reciting spring sentiments flowed out.

At the next stop, hikers returning from a spring outing got on, and at the stop after that, a group of middle-aged women wearing sun hats and pulling carts filled the bus with the scent of mugwort. They boasted about the amount of mugwort they picked today and shared various dishes they could make with it. They laughed among themselves, regardless of the old women fighting in the front.

It was a colorful and noisy spring. She had fled the bustling and noisy Seoul, but the start wasn’t good.

She leaned her head against the window. Her head felt dizzy from the long bus ride on the rough road. She tried to cool her head with the cold glass of the window, but that was a mistake too.

Her mind spun, following the heat waves rising from the fields. She closed her eyes instead.

***

Her grandmother wasn’t pleased with Junhee’s sudden visit.

“Why did you come without notice?”

“Just because. What’s that in your hand?”

“Ugh, tanghulu. Strawberry tanghulu.”

When her grandmother extended the skewer she was holding, an artificial sweet scent wafted up. Junhee wrinkled her nose, and her grandmother gave a vague smile.

“I thought you’d be too busy preparing in Seoul until you started your job, so I didn’t expect to see you for a while. How long are you planning to stay? There’s not much food in the house….”

Her grandmother seemed both glad and uncomfortable about Junhee’s return.

While her grandmother’s mixed feelings were puzzling, what was even more puzzling was the pervasive smell of strawberries. Although strawberries were a common fruit this season, the scent emanating from her grandmother and filling the yard was unusual.

Just as she was about to ask where the strawberry smell was coming from, the aluminum door connecting the yard to the kitchen opened slightly.

“Hey, Junhee’s here.”

The person peeking in and greeting her was Mr. Bae from next door, her father’s old friend.

“Aren’t you hungry? Want a snack? Perfect timing. In the kitchen, we have tanghulu, strawberry jam, strawberry syrup, strawberry shake, strawberry tea, what was it, tyrannos?”

“Tiramisu.”

Mr. Bae completed her grandmother’s sentence.

“Yeah, that. Anyway, there are all sorts of things young people would like. Junhee, you can taste-test them.”

Following her grandmother into the kitchen, Junhee saw it was a mess. Crushed strawberries were in a red basin, and remnants of half-made tanghulu were scattered on a frying pan. On a metal table in one corner of the kitchen, as her grandmother said, were various strawberry-based foods.

“…What a waste.”

“What waste? These were made from strawberries that couldn’t be sold due to poor condition. Your grandma wouldn’t waste good things.”

“Still. Grandma, you can’t eat all this.”

“Who says I can’t? I’ll share it with the neighbors.”

“Do people here like this kind of stuff?”

“Or I’ll give it to the restaurant customers as dessert.”

“What if the customers lose their appetite and stop coming?”

Last fall, her grandmother opened a Korean set meal restaurant. While Nonsan doesn’t have many tourist attractions, it does have a well-known temple and hiking trails, so it wasn’t in a bad location. However, since it relied on tourists, sales were seasonal and limited.

Her grandmother sighed deeply.

“You know, our booth at the strawberry festival last month was a flop. Everyone else was making and selling things like this.”

Why did you start strawberry farming too? The restaurant alone is hard enough. 

She swallowed her complaints.

Her grandmother, who had always been strong-willed, had become even more tenacious since last year. It seemed like all she thought about and lived for was money.

“Young people these days only like strawberries when they’re made into things like this. Kids these days are strange. Strawberries taste best when eaten as they are. They do all sorts of nonsense with strawberries. The neighbor next to the village chief’s house even made and sold rice cakes with strawberries. They took all our customers while giving out samples of those rice cakes.”

But they were strangely tasty, her grandmother said, as if it were fascinating.

“Anyway, since everyone’s making and selling things like this, what can I do? I can’t just sit idly by. Some YouTuber or something came to the festival and filmed it. If these things get lucky and get broadcasted, they could be a hit. They say Sunshim’s strawberries became a big hit and still get tons of orders.”

“Oh, of course. The strawberries and the restaurant will be a big hit, and then we can buy Junhee a house in Seoul and even get her married off.”

Mr. Bae leisurely chimed in with her grandmother’s words. It sounded like an easy, carefree statement, but it reminded Junhee of her father.

“I’ve been watching YouTube and trying to make different things with strawberries. Uncle just stopped by to help.”

“Yeah, I just came by to help carry these. But it’s nice to see Junhee’s face after a long time. Everything okay in Seoul?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Good. Whether in Seoul or Nonsan, if anything happens, let me know anytime. It’s not easy for women to live alone in a country house.”

Uncle left with a kind smile.

As soon as he left, her grandmother quickly dragged Junhee into the kitchen. The sound of the door closing was unusually harsh.

“What happened with Dowook?”

Her grandmother’s sharp gaze was intense.

“Did you really break up? Did you come here after breaking up?”

Junhee remained silent. Her grandmother understood the answer from her silence and frowned.

“Junhee. Oh, Junhee.”

She called Junhee’s name as if about to pour out something, then clamped her mouth shut. Her face showed she was forcibly holding back something rising within her.

“Think it over while you rest here. Please listen to your grandma….”

Her tone, as if pushing aside an unavoidable burden, sank a stone in Junhee’s heart. She could argue back, but Junhee chose silence.

She felt that speaking would only lead to misunderstanding and more pain. As she walked to her room, she heard the sound of water flowing from the sink.

Her grandmother’s sighs, mixed in between, pressed Junhee’s soul to the bottom. She imagined herself being crushed and collapsed into her blanket.