“Chiang Kai-shek is not a bad guy after all. Not bad at all. His true colors came out today.” Byeong-hwa muttered to himself as he picked up his chopsticks.
Gyeong-ae stared at him in bewilderment. Had he lost his mind? “What are you talking about? What about Chiang Kai-shek?”
Byeong-hwa laughed and said, “You don’t know Chiang Kai-shek?”
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting this way?”
“Chiang Kai-shek, who has given us such a hard time. You know, Jang Hun.”
“So that guy is Jang Hun? You’re calling him Chiang Kai-shek?” The two were complicit again. The leader of the aggressors had a “Jang” in his name, a Chinese character rare among Korean surnames, so the nickname Chiang Kai-shek caught on.
“Well, what about him?”
“He’s more considerate than he looks,” Byeong-hwa said as he began to eat his rice.
“Oh? What makes you think so?”
“We’ve been taken in by his tricks.” Byeong-hwa was now shoveling food into his mouth. He told Gyeong-ae, who hadn’t touched her chopsticks, to eat, while he continued devouring the food set before him.
“Slow down. Talk to me while you eat. You’ll give yourself a stomachache, eating so fast. Go on with your story.”
“Huh?”
“About that Chiang Kai-shek or Jang Hun.”
“I’ve said enough.”
“Are you making fun of me? If you can’t talk about it, why did you bring it up in the first place?” It annoyed her that Byeong-hwa still didn’t trust her.
Byeong-hwa sat smoking and then stretched out to rest. One of his arms throbbed with a dull pain, and his swollen hand was tingling.
“You don’t trust me because I’m a woman. How old-fashioned and feudal! It’s not that I’m dying to know, but after all I’ve gone through, I have the right to know. It’d be different if it had nothing to do with me.” Pouting, Gyeong-ae pulled a Haetae cigarette from her pocket and lit it over the brazier.
Someone rapped on the front door. “Do you have any cigarettes?” A man’s voice.
“Which brand?” Gyeong-ae shouted as she lifted the small bolt from the door. The tiny door flung open, a cold wind swept in, and a man clad in a Korean coat entered, ducking his head under the low doorframe.
Her hair stood up on end as she took a step back and stifled a shriek. This cheerful man was none other than the bastard who had given her such a hard time at the Chinese restaurant earlier. Chiang Kai-shek.
A dingy scarf was tied over the black overcoat, and by the way his Korean socks were pulled up over his trousers’ ankle ties, he looked like a police inspector in disguise.
Still wearing a mocking smile, he signaled toward the room with his chin.
“Is Kim in?” He seemed eager to invite himself in.
Had he not done enough for one night? Was he alone? Gyeong-ae’s mind was spinning, yet she remained calm.
Byeong-hwa appeared.
“Come on in.” Byeong-hwa didn’t seem surprised, nor did he seem particularly glad to see the visitor.
“Well, it’s good to find you home. No need to invite me in. There’s something I’d like to know.” His eyes settled on Byeong-hwa’s bandaged hand. Breezily, he asked, “We didn’t hurt you too much, did we?”
Does anyone, after beating someone up, ask after his victim? Who’s kinder — someone who checks in on a fellow he punched out, or someone who forces a friend to get drunk and then comes by the next day to buy him a chaser for his hangover?
Byeong-hwa’s reply was no less absurd. “Somehow I survived, and Comrade Yi just has a broken rib.” Byeong-hwa held up a finger.
Jang burst out laughing shamelessly and asked, “Is he in bed?”
“You can’t ignore a broken rib. He went to have it removed.”
At this, Jang laughed again.
“If you feel like some meat, stop by the medical-school hospital on your way home. They must’ve carved it out by now. Clamp your teeth around it and take it home. You can do whatever you want with it — tuck it away or barbeque it. ” Byeong-hwa smiled.
Jang asked, “Are you angry?”
“What’s there to be angry about? The only thing I don’t understand is why that idiot gang of yours had to do that to an elderly man.” Byeong-hwa raised his voice. “Besides, your guys used tools, like butchers!”
“Quiet down, the Police Bureau people may hear you! My people aren’t the only ones who use tools to harm people. Anyway, I’m sorry. I told them not to go to such lengths. At least it’s over and done with now. Well, I’m off. I just stopped by to see how you are. Please don’t hold a grudge against me.” With that, Jang Hun vanished.
Gyeong-ae was flabbergasted by this exchange. Had everyone lost their minds? Did they think what had happened was a joke? Her ears were ringing.
“Do you find it amusing when someone is on the threshold between life and death?” Gyeong-ae had made sure that the door was locked.
“He must have wanted to check up on me because he was nervous.” Byeong-hwa laughed it off and lay down again.
“What a piece of work — the type of person who’d host a burial for a man he’s killed. Is that his mission?”
“Of course not. Actually, he floated the rumor that I had pocketed secret funds. When the younger ones in the gang made such a big fuss, he allowed them to take it out on me. But I believe that he told them not to hurt me.”
“And that makes sense to you? He could have told you that because he wants to save face or because he’s afraid of reprisals. No one would ever admit responsibility for such an incident. As for the money, were secret funds from the Police Affairs Bureau the only thing he could come up with? If he really wanted to help you, he could have said that a friend had lent it to you. Why make up a story about secret funds?”
“That’s not it. When Pi-hyeok was here, he met with Jang Hun before me. Jang knows everything — how much was given to whom and where it was given. Only two people know this, other than the ones who handled the money: you and Jang. When we used the money to open a grocery store, Jang Hun wanted to know if we thought we could get away with it. This was his first conundrum.”
If Byeong-hwa had pocketed the money or opened the store with a lot of fanfare, the authorities and his comrades would both say that the money had to have come either from secret police funds or from abroad, an allegation that would interfere with other comrades’ work. Furthermore, although police detectives were now praising Kim Byeong-hwa for renouncing his radicalism, they would eventually try to discover the truth. For all Jang Hun knew, they could’ve sniffed it out already. If Byeong-hwa were caught, Jang Hun’s work would be put in jeopardy, and he would be in danger. And if Pi-hyeok’s part in it came to light with Byeong-hwa’s arrest, Jang Hun would be in trouble immediately. Jang Hun needed to prove to the authorities that his entourage and Byeong-hwa’s were not one and the same. Like shutting off electricity with an insulator, no sparks could land on Jang Hun if he severed his ties with Byeong-hwa. Jang Hun intended to have an excuse in place even before one was needed.
Jang Hun had another purpose: to make Kim Byeong-hwa reflect on his misdeeds. Whether Byeong-hwa was blinded by a woman or dazzled by the money, Jang Hun intended to give him a jolt and to reignite his dulled ambition for the struggle. The attack was both a lesson and a warning to other comrades whose dedication might be wavering.
Such a clash between two groups might also deflect the police’s suspicion of Byeong-hwa. Secret funds do not come from a single source, and even police agents themselves don’t know exactly how these funds are relayed. As long as nothing wildly out of the ordinary happened, the police wouldn’t do anything about it. They might even try to recruit the suspects. In fact, Jang Hun couldn’t be sure that Byeong-hwa wasn’t being used by the police, but even if he were, he knew that he could be trusted not to inform them about Pi-hyeok’s visit. Byeong-hwa might be nonplussed to find himself the target of a temporary misunderstanding, but it was a move intended to provide him with an out, in case he needed one.