Under the Queen’s Umbrella: Episodes 3-4 MGG

Under the Queen’s Umbrella: Episodes 3-4

by alathe

Terrified for the Crown Prince’s life, our heroine steels herself to steer the younger princes through a series of punishing exams. However, the palace teems with secrets, and any one of them could be her children’s undoing…

 

EPISODES 3-4 WEECAP

The venomous Consort Go returns to parade Gyeseong’s secret before the Dowager Queen. She’s met with a flat stare. If it’s true, she is told, Gyeseong faces execution — but, if her accusation lacks proof, it’ll be her facing the chop. Therefore, says the Dowager Queen, unless she is absolutely certain, she’d better not run her mouth. For those wondering if the Dowager Queen’s warnings stem from some unexpected grandmotherly instinct, fear not: later, she invades Gyeseong’s sanctuary to take stock of the evidence — sneering all the while.

Hwa-ryeong finds Gyeseong, ordering them to think only of their studies, not their wanderings. Taken aback, Gyeseong promises to do Hwa-ryeong’s bidding: to study, toil, join the cohort — but, please let them continue with their walks. It’s the only time in which they can breathe. (Sidenote: as Gyeseong is heavily trans-coded, I’ve chosen to use they/them pronouns for now — he/him seems inappropriate.)

Elsewhere, there’s a pronounced uptick in religious sentiment amongst the concubines: with the cohort selection exam approaching, all they can do is pray. The princes approach their academic doom with the weary trudge of men condemned to execution — or, of adolescents marching to their SATs. The first two questions are standard Confucian fare: arithmetic, followed by a pious essay. The third is the king’s invention — a lateral thinking puzzle, designed to encourage outside-the-box solutions. (Me? I’m clearly a box-only sort of gal; my utter inability to make two crescent moons out of an oblong would have immediately disqualified me for kingship.)

Uiseong soars to success on what is arguably an excellent example of creative problem-solving… from Consort Hwang. That is to say, he cheats, using a code-word in his anonymous essay to harvest praise from corrupt examiners. However, even this fails to net him first place: the winner is po-faced PRINCE BOGUM (Kim Min-ki). The other two to progress? Grand Princes Seongnam and Gyeseong. Geniuses they may not be, but they’ve got originality in spades.

If only they understood what was at stake. That said, with the Crown Prince sinking in and out of consciousness, it may not be long before the entire court knows. In his rare moments of clarity, he’s heartbreakingly anxious to return to his duties. Not, Hwa-ryeong decides, on her watch. Canceling her son’s schedule, she urges the king to send him to the hot springs for his skin condition. The Crown Prince is squirreled away to convalesce in private, under the guise of a harmless vacation.

Now, to come to terms with another secret. Hwa-ryeong tiptoes into Gyeseong’s hideaway, solemnly peering into the same mirror in which they applied their makeup. She touches a silk skirt. Examines an intricate hairpin. Whatever fragile understanding she gains, she opts for the blunt mallet approach. She’ll keep Gyeseong away from this room by forcing them to study with Seongnam.

Meanwhile, the scheming Dowager Queen, in the wake of Bogum’s success, presents Variation on a Scheme: Scheming in F Minor. That is to say, she reminds Bogum’s mother, CONSORT TAE (Kim Ga-eun), of that tiny, insignificant little pledge she made the other day… the one where she offered her life in exchange for the Dowager Queen’s support. You know, the sort of deal you never live to regret.

More disturbingly, she also meets with Court Lady Shin. Worse still, the latter confesses to Hwa-ryeong’s latest ploy: that the Crown Prince isn’t actually relaxing at the hot springs, but lying delirious in the queen’s chambers. Still, when questioned about a “dreadful rumor” regarding Prince Gyeseong, Court Lady Shin feigns ignorance. It’s a difficult balance to strike, but her loyalties lie with Hwa-ryeong.

It’s not long before the Dowager Queen makes her attack. Wheedling the King into a walk, she suggests they explore some of the little-known areas of the palace… that mysterious abandoned chamber on the outskirts of the grounds, for instance. What fun! Hwa-ryeong, stricken, is forced to tag along. Luckily, Court Lady Shin comes running with a faintly plausible excuse: there’s been — erm — a banquet-related emergency! Hwa-ryeong speed-walks away — a fraction more speedily than usual, that is — to manage this disaster. Minutes later, the King and Dowager Queen approach Gyeseong’s hideout… just in time to see the building burning.

Of course, the peril — as the Dowager Queen hastens to remind Hwa-ryeong — is by no means over. Nor is the Crown Prince safe. Dragging down the son of a queen is, after all, nothing if not her specialty. Meanwhile, poor Gyeseong watches the inferno in despair. It’s one thing to be queer and closeted in the Joseon era. It’s quite another kind of bleak when your closet itself goes up in flames. For a long time, they curl up amongst the wreckage, silent and sad.

Later, realization strikes. A visit to the palace’s fire responders confirms it: they were tipped off in advance — by Queen Hwa-ryeong’s court lady. Silent and determined, Gyeseong confronts their mother in tears. If she knows the truth, how could she be so cruel? Expression like steel, Hwa-ryeong urges them to lower their voice. To be silent in more ways than one. But, also — to follow her.

As rain pours, mother and child leave the confines of the palace. Court Lady Shin hands Gyeseong a silk dress, topped by the hairpins their mother saved from the fire. Clad in finery and delicate makeup, Gyeseong is invited to sit for a portrait.

Outside, Hwa-ryeong and Court Lady Shin share a quiet moment in the rain. Court Lady Shin, for her part, had helped start the fire, sharing a shortcut so Hwa-ryeong could arrive in time. Now, she knows everything about her queen. When Hwa-ryeong holds out an imperious hand for her usual herbal medicine, she hands one to her companion. If Court Lady Shin takes it, she warns her wryly, there’s no going back. Without hesitation, Court Lady Shin eats.

At the end of it all, Gyeseong receives a beautiful, secret portrait of the self they’ve been forced to hide — and a heartfelt hug from their mother. Hesitant, they ask if she’s upset. Hwa-ryeong gently shakes her head. At a loss, she says — at first — but, not upset. No matter how they look, Gyeseong will always be her child. She takes out a hairpin that belonged to her mother: she’d been saving for if she had a daughter. It’s Gyeseong’s now.

Shoulder to shoulder under the queen’s umbrella, mother and child return to the palace — where neither are likely to breathe freely anytime soon. Silently, Hwa-ryeong vows that there will come a day when those who are different won’t have to hide.

Later, another angry child barges in demanding an explanation: Seongnam. He tears back the screen — only to see the Crown Prince, lying prone on his sickbed. Hwa-ryeong cuts off his outrage with one word: hyeolheogwol. Her son’s fatigue condition. Its last victim, Prince Taein, died from other, more mysterious causes; all records of that incident been destroyed. When Hwa-ryeong assures him she’s trying to protect her children, Seongnam asks, quite reasonably, if destroying Gyeseong’s sanctuary was the best way of achieving this. If so — was forcing Seongnam himself to grow up alone, outside the palace, another decision made for his sake? All Hwa-ryeong can answer is that she thought it was the only way to keep him alive.

So many drastic choices, made for reasons the children must accept without question. Gyeseong finishes locking away their portrait, just as their brother arrives, bearing drinks and sympathy. Gyeseong is dropping out of the cohort race — at Hwa-ryeong’s suggestion. Now, it’s up to Seongnam to represent the family. As Seongnam accepts this with a smile, it’s clear the siblings know a little of one another’s secrets. Still, there’s one Seongnam’s not sharing. It’s a distant fragment of memory: the Dowager Queen telling him to forget about someone named Eunuch Kim. According to her, it was Seongnam’s fault that he witnessed something he shouldn’t.

Meanwhile, the Dowager Queen sets out to scheme the impossible scheme of replacing the Crown Prince. However, others are determined to scheme a little bigger, and on a more demanding timescale — the Chief State Councilor, HWANG WON-HYEONG (Kim Eui-sung), chief amongst them. He’s putting his cards on the table. Rumors of the Crown Prince’s sickness have trickled across the court. This cohort selection is an opportunity to put Prince Uiseong on the throne, and he’s insistent the Dowager Queen seize it. After all, she owes him. He helped her orchestrate her own coup, back when she was just a concubine with big ambitions. After all, it’s not treason if you’re the ones making history.

The three challengers for cohort selection gather at Sigangwon for the final test: a debate. The issue on the table? An outbreak of plague in the hut village in Seochon. How best to handle the quarantine? Bogum navigates the debate the same way he navigates most of life: reservedly, calmly, and with a pronounced disinclination to let his mother sneak in a secret tutor. Uiseong, of course, cheats: his plan revolves around murdering all plague victims on the basis that they’re poor, and probably immigrants anyway. Seongnam’s open horror is a pretty reasonable response to this, but he’s docked points for getting emotional. Still, he’s the only candidate who knows what’s happening on the ground: misinformation spreads fear, and violence against Seochon’s villagers is rampant. The only solution is to determine the plague’s cause.

Seongnam is about to get up close and personal with the subject of his political talking points. Determined to save his older brother, he’s tracked down a doctor experienced in treating hyeolheogwol. His current whereabouts? You guessed it: the Seochon hut village. Luckily, it seems our wayward prince is no stranger to daring capers. After sneaking past the quarantine gates in a supply truck, he weaves his way through the sick and dying — whilst displaying mask etiquette lackadaisical enough to traumatize anyone who didn’t sleep through 2020. The famed healer, MASTER TOJI (Kwon Hae-hyo), is understandably preoccupied by the welter of non-royal patients requiring his care. Still, he spares enough time to empty Seongnam’s pockets of cash, scribble a prescription, and impart some dry advice. In a manner wildly uncharacteristic of a Joseon drama, he suggests refraining from acupuncture.

Court Lady Shin’s not the only one who knows her secret passageways: Seongnam escapes the quarantine via an underground crawlspace he’s clearly encountered before. However, his resourcefulness runs dry when it’s time to pick up the prescription: Master Toji has cheated him. Despite having assured Seongnam that the herbs were included in his fee, payment is precisely what the apothecary demands. Salvation comes in the form of a beautiful woman (Oh Ye-ju). Sweetly, she offers to put up her own silver knife as collateral — a treasured keepsake from her mother.

This saccharine meet-cute is a little too suspect to bear up under scrutiny. Turns out, the beautiful stranger is the incorrigible daughter of the Minister of War, bane of all matchmakers. In a move that will win my heart forever, she admits to her companion that her very-much-living mother never gave her any kind of knife. Still, how else is she meant to attract a husband, if not for elaborate cons involving doctor’s bills? A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Little does Seongnam know, he’s been fooled not once, but thrice: once by his flirtatious savior, and twice by Master Toji. The money the apothecary demanded is for smuggling aid into the hut village.

Soon, the debate results are announced: the winner is Prince Bogum, whose fence-sitting moderation clearly wowed the judges. This outrages Won-hyeong, who detects the Dowager Queen’s finger in this particular pie. Amused, she explains her reasoning: all the debate proved was that the queen’s sons fall short. If Uiseong wants the crown… well, that’s not quite the same as being the Crown Prince’s cohort, is it?

Seongnam returns to the palace, bag brimming with herbal medicine. At first, Hwa-ryeong cannot countenance its use. An untested cure, from outside the palace? It could be disastrous. However, circumstances soon force her hand. The Crown Prince’s pregnant wife has gone into labor, and his appearance is now crucial. Hwa-ryeong is forced to embrace desperate measures; she’ll take personal responsibility for the consequences… which, if it isn’t enough to get the Crown Prince upright and lucid, will be dire.

It almost isn’t. However, just as the court begin to murmur unpleasant suspicions to one another — the Crown Prince approaches, sturdy on his feet. Hwa-ryeong’s own posture straightens in confidence. Somehow, they’ve pulled it off.

Afterwards, our heroine presides over a triumphant, laughing family dinner. It’s the first moment of peace she’s had in four whole episodes of chaos and intrigue. The Crown Prince is plied with various health foods, as her other children tease her about favoritism — most of them, blissfully ignorant of the near disaster they faced. Meanwhile, the Crown Prince and Seognam take a moment to be grateful together. Seongnam recalls how his older brother came to fetch him from his childhood home — in Seochon. Back then, the mother he didn’t recognize would visit him, crying. Even then, she loved him. Now, that he’s come back from the edge of death, the Crown Prince is determined to love his own infant daughter just as fiercely.

It’s too good to be true. When Bogum enters Sigangwon, disaster looms. Midway through reciting the nine virtues of a nobleman, the Crown Prince splutters. Chokes. And coughs up dark pools of blood.

This show’s palace intrigue is as fast-paced as our heroine’s footsteps; I’m on the edge of my seat! I love how it highlights the claustrophobia of the royal court. Hwa-ryeong’s children are bearing the brunt of its tendency to cut you into smaller and smaller pieces — whether it’s the Crown Prince’s confinement to small sickbeds, Seongnam maneuvering through narrow passageways, or Gyeseong’s sanctuary shrinking to the size of a portrait in a drawer.

Outside the palace, there’s a bit of room to breathe. Gyeseong can be honest with their mother — but only under cover of darkness. Seongnam can discover secrets in Seochon — but only in the stifling fug of plague. Under The Queen’s Umbrella is an apt title: Hwa-ryeong can’t stop the rain, but she can protect her children a little if they duck under her shelter.

As for how Gyeseong’s arc has been handled? It’s far defter than last week. This time, the narrative was explicitly critiquing transphobia, rather than passively depicting it. Hwa-ryeong’s move from panic to acceptance was incredibly touching; Kim Hye-soo’s maternal tenderness in those final scenes broke my heart. My one quibble is that the focus was almost entirely on Hwa-ryeong’s mixed feelings, whilst Gyeseong wasn’t afforded much of a voice. In fact, the entire arc is marked by significant silences. Still, there’s plenty of time for the writers to explore.

Plus, this is a drama that wields a mean subverted trope. I was cackling with delight at the introduction of our new female character, the Minister of War’s daughter. She won me over with her very first cheeky grin; I love a noble lady with a flexible approach to morality! Meanwhile, what’s the betting on the Crown Prince’s fate? I’m hoping he lives to raise his baby daughter, but that coughed-up blood was awfully… copious. One thing’s for sure: next week is going to be twisty, sharp-witted, and thoroughly entertaining.

 
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