#017. God Is Simply Doing What God Does Best
His Majesty the Emperor celebrated Baekryeon’s promotion with a week-long banquet. But, as always, His Majesty’s generosity did not stop there.
Cheongneung went as far as to create a lake of peach wine—at Baekryeon’s house, no less.
It all happened after Baekryeon refused the initial reward of fifty barrels of peach wine.
“Haha, what’s that worth anyway? Surely you could finish that on your own, couldn’t you?”
That was the one thing the two had never reached a compromise on.
Baekryeon believed rewards should remain within reasonable bounds. Was it really necessary to combine the rank of High General and Grand General into one? That alone was excessive. Was it really necessary to empty out an entire orchard just to brew new peach wine? She had already been granted a fitting opponent and the land to go with it—wasn’t that more than enough?
But unlike Baekryeon, Cheongneung believed such grand rewards were necessary. Baekryeon deserved recognition that had never been seen before—something no one could have even imagined.
And in that sense, the lake of peach wine—made from those fifty barrels—was far more effective than the barrels themselves.
“Your Majesty, if I try to drink all that wine alone before it goes bad, I’ll end up sick in bed.”
As Cheongneung said, Baekryeon could hold her liquor fairly well. The problem was, the wine was peach-infused and it was summer.
Just one week and the wine would spoil. If she tried to drink it all alone, she’d surely collapse from alcohol poisoning.
So Baekryeon hosted a banquet. After all, a banquet was a great way to share rare wine with comrades—and gain favor.
Ultimately, it was Cheongneung who won their long-standing battle of extravagant rewards this time. With the air of a triumphant victor, he smiled and pointed at a tree in the garden.
“If I had known, I’d have hung a few pigs or cows from that tree. For appetizers.”
“Please restrain yourself.”
Peach wine may smell pleasant, but if the scent of animal blood wafted through her garden, Baekryeon would abandon the house without hesitation. She had plenty of territory anyway—no need to stay in the capital.
Seeing her expression, Cheongneung smirked.
“Then just accept the fifty cows I’ll be sending.”
“…Is the reward not over yet?”
“If I’ve created a new position for you, the reward should be just as unprecedented, don’t you think?”
“That new position is already an unprecedented reward, Your Majesty.”
“Haha.”
Cheongneung let out a brief laugh and looked once more at the tree in the garden.
As if picking up on the unspoken threat—refuse again, and there would indeed be livestock hanging from the branches—Baekryeon quickly changed her tone.
“Will they be sent alive?”
“Why, planning to raise them?”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about establishing a system to lend cattle to poor farmers. I could try it in my territory first, and if it works, perhaps expand it across the empire?”
“…Is that really what’s on your mind right now, General of Triumph?”
“Serving the empire is as natural to me as breathing. How could I stop myself from considering the welfare of the people?”
Cheongneung let out a long sigh. He knew Baekryeon never removed her mask as a perfect vassal, even in front of him. But sometimes, it was a bit much.
She could afford to loosen up around him. Even if she wasn’t always the ever-dutiful subject, he would never cast her aside.
“Do you know your attitude kills the taste of wine every time?”
Baekryeon’s response was swift.
“That’s good to hear. You should cut back on drinking anyway. The royal physician’s been quite worried about Your Majesty’s health.”
And yet, with no regard to his earlier complaint, Cheongneung downed his glass and extended it again.
“Take it.”
Sharing a cup was improper according to etiquette. But the emperor stood above both etiquette and law.
So Baekryeon quickly scanned her surroundings, made sure no one was watching, and accepted Cheongneung’s glass.
“You’re always so thorough.”
Cheongneung smiled faintly as he refilled the cup. The sweet aroma of the peach wine tickled her nose.
“Am I lacking in dignity?”
Watching Baekryeon down the drink in a single gulp, Cheongneung asked.
The question was random, but Baekryeon didn’t ask for clarification.
“You hold these… barely-passable banquets to reaffirm that you’re in control. It’s a sort of… hierarchy enforcement, I suppose.”
When Yi Baekryeon first entered Cheongneung’s service, her position was precarious.
Before the Jin Empire became an empire, it was a federation of seven small nations. Among the ruling families of those nations were the Yi family—Baekryeon’s—and the Ja family—Cheongneung’s.
Originally, the Yi family had the most influence. You could say they led the federation.
So when Cheongneung’s older brother, Jahongwon, began his rise to power, his first target was naturally the Yi family.
Jahongwon laid siege to the Yi capital for three years. When the Yi family finally surrendered, only those under fifteen and over seventy were left alive.
Though the Yi submitted to the Ja, there was no way the relationship could ever be amicable again. Baekryeon had even led the Yi as their head at one point.
So when she pledged loyalty to Cheongneung, no one believed her. Perhaps not even the remaining Yi. How could the head of a ruined house truly be loyal to the brother of their destroyer?
Naturally, everyone around Cheongneung advised him to reassign Baekryeon to some obscure post. He ignored them, but his courtiers never fully dropped their guard.
This was when Cheongneung’s authority wasn’t what it is today.
“It was necessary back then, I suppose.”
Even so, Baekryeon could have run to Cheongneung with every slight and plea for protection. Or she could have used the hostility as a reason to resign and return to civilian life.
But she didn’t. She bore the burden herself. She subdued opposition with force, soothed it with words, scattered potential rallying points so no one could unite against her—she used every method she could to make them submit.
The banquets were part of that strategy during the transitional period. When her opponents could no longer openly oppose her, but their resentment still lingered.
From that time on, she began hosting banquets and inviting her rivals.
“It looked more like a royal audience hall than a banquet hall.”
Baekryeon’s banquets lacked laughter or merriment.
Guests sat upright, wore polite smiles, and spoke only dignified words. Even with alcohol, no one acted out of line. Everyone was calm and refined.
No one would attend such a dull affair for fun.
But since the host was Yi Baekryeon, everyone showed up. Even if it meant sitting stiffly for hours, fearing they might make a mistake.
“But this must be hard on you too.”
There are plenty of boring power-hungry hosts. What made Baekryeon’s banquets unique was that they were flawlessly executed, boring aside.
Had anything been out of order—if she had gotten drunk and behaved improperly—guests would have simply endured the hours, then mocked her behind her back.
But Baekryeon ensured every detail was perfect. The food and wine were top-tier, the music refined. The attendants moved like shadows, never drawing attention.
Even after hours, Baekryeon never broke posture or etiquette—not even once.
That perfection made guests nervous, afraid of making any misstep. And so Baekryeon naturally rose to a position of judgment—superior to them all.
In that way, she tamed her rivals like hunting dogs.
“Do you still need to do this?”
With countless accomplishments and proven ability, no one denied that Yi Baekryeon was the second most powerful person in the Jin Empire.
She had conquered every land she set foot on and completed the continental conquest that Jahongwon had started.
So there was no longer any need to reinforce her standing—yet Baekryeon continued hosting these flawless, joyless banquets.
“Why not host an ordinary banquet for once? One where a few mistakes are okay because everyone’s too drunk to care? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
Most banquets don’t require perfection. Once the wine flows, reason loosens, and everyone becomes more forgiving. Even if something goes wrong, people laugh it off.
If not aiming to establish dominance, that route is far easier. And that’s why Cheongneung couldn’t understand why Baekryeon insisted on this exhausting approach.
To his question, Baekryeon—rarely—hesitated.
Instead of replying, she quietly cleaned his glass, handed it back, and poured him another drink.
Cheongneung took it without pressing her, sipping slowly. Only when the glass was half-empty did Baekryeon finally speak.
“…God is simply doing what God does best.”
