They walked for some time, their footsteps crunching on hoarfrost. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” Jade asked finally.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He sighed. “My family would never allow me to marry someone—someone who . . .”
“An actress? A former courtesan? Someone who is not a virgin daughter of a genteel family?” she said, letting go of his hand. “You know, there are many heirs to great houses who choose to marry for love. These days it’s not so unheard of.”
Something like a sarcastic laugh came out of HanChol’s mouth, imagining his mother’s reaction should he bring home a woman who once had lain with men for a price. What Jade was asking was completely absurd.
“I am my mother’s only son and hope. I can’t go against her wish,” he said tautly.
“If I meant enough to you, you could.” She wiped at her eyes. “Do you love someone else?”
“No, of course not.” He stopped walking and touched her arm. He did feel sorry then.
“I want you to know—I will never love someone else the way I love you, Jade. You’re irreplaceable. You’ve changed me—my thoughts, my feelings, my whole being—you’ve made me who I am.”
“You’ve changed me too, darling,” she said, trying to hold back the tears. “So? At least be good enough to help me understand. I would run away with you. We could leave everything behind and go somewhere, just the two of us. Why can’t we . . . ?”
“Because I’m not ready, Jade. There are things I have to do still . . . And I’m not ready,” he repeated, as if hearing it again could convince her and himself. Marriage with any woman was a complex decision, and for him to even consider it at this point it would have to be a spectacular match that would lift him up a few rungs. You only had one shot at improving your station through marriage, and he himself was not high enough to relinquish that chance. This was all better left unsaid, and he hoped she would simply understand, for both of their sakes.
But Jade didn’t understand anything except that it was time to let him go. To draw it out, she studied his face in silence. That this was the last time she would be seeing him caused her agonizing pain.
“This was the way we took to walk home from the theater. Hundreds of times. Do you remember that spring? It was more than six years ago now. We’ve spent so much time together.” She smiled, and a tear loosened from her eye.
“I know. I could never forget our walks—my first true memory of happiness. Every minute I’ve been with you, I’ve been so happy.”
“So have I,” she said, and he gathered her frozen hands in his and pressed them to his lips.
“You will become the most successful man in Seoul, I’m sure of it. It will only bring me the greatest happiness to know of your good fortune. When that happens, just remember that I believed in you before anyone else,” she continued. “I will walk home alone the rest of the way. Goodbye.”
“Let me at least see you home safely.”
“No, we’ve had our talk. It all has to end at some point. Goodbye,” she said again, and began walking resolutely toward the horizon where the black sky met the white earth.
20
The Dreamers
1937
EVERYONE DREAMS, BUT ONLY SOME PEOPLE ARE DREAMERS. THE NONDREAMERS, by far more numerous, are those who see the world as it is. Then there are the few dreamers, who see the world as they are. The moon, the river, the train station, the sound of rain, and even something as mundane as porridge become something else with many layers. The world feels like an oil painting rather than a photograph, and the dreamers are forever seeing hidden colors where others just see the top shade. The nondreamers look through glasses, and the dreamers through a prism.
This is not a quality determined by intelligence or passion, two things most often conflated with dreaming. Dani, the most intelligent and passionate person Jade had ever known, had a vision that was as crisp and sharply outlined as her mannerisms and principles. Dani was not interested in the unfathomable when there were wrongs to be righted, preferably with utmost grace and aplomb. When Jade stopped dancing and acting, she felt as if all the colors had gone out of her life. She was now in the world of the nondreamers, a strange and suffocating place, and felt lonelier than she’d ever been; but Dani acted as though she just had to accept reality and move on.
“It’s the depression,” Dani said one morning, poring over her newspaper through her magnifying glass. “People don’t have money to spend at movie theaters. Many restaurants are closing now, too. You can’t be too hard on yourself.”