Although he knew that working himself up like this, becoming emotionally involved, and rushing into a case were against the principles of a prudent judge, he could not control his feelings. Whenever he dug deep into an investigation and identified the truth of the crime, a yearning for justice for the people and the Party would surge within him. The law and Party doctrines were, of course, the correct guidelines for assessing a case, but at times the zealous application of these guidelines would overcome a judge’s objective perspective, causing him to be overly dogmatic and abandon prudence.
Judge Jeong Jin Wu picked up the phone and dialed slowly.
“Is this the Provincial Performing Arts Company? How do you do? My name is Judge Jeong Jin Wu at the Superior Court.”
“Hello, sir. I’m the deputy director.”
The volume on the telephone handset was so loud that anyone sitting next to Jeong Jin Wu would have been able to hear the deputy clearly. Jeong Jin Wu arranged a meeting with the deputy director, who was acting as the interim chair of the performing arts company.
“Comrade Deputy Director, are you going to be at the theater this afternoon from three o’clock to four o’clock?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“I want to talk to you about Chae Sun Hee.”
“Ah, if that’s the case, then you don’t have to come by. I will come directly to the courthouse. I have some errands to do in that area anyway.”
“Very well. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Jeong Jin Wu hung up the phone, feeling less burdened than before. He thought that the deputy director could persuade Sun Hee to not go through with the divorce, as it was customary for local officials to deal with individuals and their personal problems before the court got involved. Jeong Jin Wu closed Sun Hee’s divorce file and decided to wait for the deputy director to speak with her first. He had not completed Sun Hee’s divorce petition because he did not feel that he fully grasped her ideological disposition.
People needed to recognize the nobility of the law. For Jeong Jin Wu, the highest law was conscience, the sublime and wondrous court of human emotions, moral judgment, integrity, respect, and honor. Egotistical opinions, self-aggrandizing assertions needed to be silenced in order for one, particularly Sun Hee, to take heed of the quiet voice of compassion, which had been, for so long, locked somewhere in the depths of her embattled heart.
Someone knocked cautiously on the judge’s door.
“Come in,” Jeong Jin Wu said.
Seok Chun waited sheepishly at the threshold, fidgeting with his hat. He approached the desk only after Jeong Jin Wu welcomed him in. Seok Chun delicately placed his hat on the desk as if it were fragile and pulled out a chair.
“I know you must be very busy, so thanks for stopping by,” Jeong Jin Wu said.
“It’s not a problem,” Seok Chun replied.
He sat with his eyes lowered in respectful solemnity. He felt awkward, tense, and even a bit embarrassed to be at the court, but he also showed his willingness to comply with Jeong Jin Wu’s request.
“So, were you able to find good casting sand?” Jeong Jin Wu asked, engaging in a lighter topic of conversation before delving into the serious issue.
“I bought some from the other factory, but the quality isn’t good.”
“What about the sand from the riverbank? Won’t that work?”
“Well, I’m not sure. It may be useful for other castings, but there are only a few places that have good-quality sand. Most of them are near the Eastern Sea.”
“I see. That is a problem. By the way, what was that called? The storklike—“
Seok Chun cracked a smile and asked, “Are you talking about the remote-control connection rod?”
“That’s right. Your equipment manager was also worried about finding the right sand. I’m not sure if you know, but the sand on the riverbank is of high quality.”
“Comrade Judge, don’t worry about it. I’ll find a way to get the right casting sand.”
“I like your determination. Anyway, don’t lose your passion for inventing new machines. Keep at it. If you were to lose passion for your work, that would be a great loss.”
Judge Jeong Jin Wu paused for a moment and then continued.
“I came by your factory this morning because I wanted to hear the rest of the story you began at my apartment that rainy evening. You may think that you’ve provided me with enough information, but by legal standards, I don’t have enough. Of course, I was able to formulate an idea of your family problem based on what you told me. Your expectations for your invention, and Comrade Sun Hee’s expectations for your success… the pain and suffering you two have had to endure all these years. What is this that I hear about you two having an argument about the prize? Did you really argue about the prize?”
Seok Chun sighed deeply.
“We had an argument. No, we fought. I brought home the vase and plaque that evening. Ho Nam was excited about my prize and told Sun Hee about it. She didn’t say a word. The three of us sat around the dinner table without saying anything to one another.”
After dinner, Ho Nam immediately fell asleep, exhausted from playing all day, and the couple remained silent, inviting the ever-so-familiar austere atmosphere back into the room. Seok Chun had been elated by the applause from the audience upon receiving the prize, but his elation was truncated by his wife’s apathy. He had grown accustomed to not sharing his thoughts with Sun Hee, so he had no intention of sharing his excitement at winning the prize. Attempting to connect emotionally with Sun Hee was more difficult than inventing a new machine. He was not going to force himself to “fix” his marital problems because he did not see any purpose to it, and even if he tried, his marriage would never return to its original state. Although he would have to endure the pain and loneliness of a broken marriage, he thought that it would be best to remain silent until it was time for bed.
Seok Chun opened the Handbook for Metal Cutters and perused it. The figures, instructions, graphs, and diagrams on engineering in the book took him to a peaceful grassy field under the warmth of the sun. Seok Chun journeyed into his imagination, momentarily escaping the problems of his marriage. His love for engineering had filled the void in his heart where his love for his wife had once been. Solitude no longer frightened him; it became his companion, his friend, during those long, sleepless nights.
It appeared that Sun Hee had accepted that their nights were going to be spent in agonizing silence. Unlike other ordinary days, however, tonight she was determined to settle something. Sun Hee approached Seok Chun with her arms crossed. She picked up the plaque on the desk and read it aloud. And then she put it down. She smirked bitterly as she picked up the cheap vase and asked, “You went through all that trouble to receive this?” As she placed the vase back on the desk, it wobbled around a bit until it found its balance.
Seok Chun glared at Sun Hee and asked, “What, did you expect something grander?”
Sun Hee retorted, “Of all things, would the country really give you this? Why didn’t you demand what’s really due to you? And why do you just sit there like Buddha?”
“What would you have liked me to receive? A new suit? A television set?”
“At least some kind of medal or an article about you in the newspaper. Something more than this!”