The Bridegroom by Ha Jin Page A

like a forest. If only he were able to see everything. If only he could have embraced her and kissed every part of her body, but he dared not budge. Suddenly the human figures, the buffaloes, and the lush paddies on the screen changed, merging and turning into a huge vulva, golden and bushy, throbbing and steaming. Something stirred in his stomach, and, ducking his head below the back of the seat in front of him, he began retching.
    This scared the woman. She hurriedly pulled out his hand and wiped it with a handkerchief. She leaned over and whispered, “Sorry. Thank you.” Then she stood up, turned, and faded into the darkness.
    As he stopped retching, the thought came to him that he must follow her, find out who she was, and do something more. He rose to his feet and moved to the gate.
    At the front entrance stood a girl in a white blouse, with her back toward him. There wasn’t another person around. It must have been her that he had caressed just now, so without a second thought he hastened toward her. The plaza in front of the theater was lit bright by mercury-vapor lamps. The elm crowns formed a skyline, beyond which stars were blinking.
    The girl heard footsteps. She turned around, stared at him with her mouth half open. Although her eyeteeth protruded, she looked rather sweet and delicate, perhaps a college student. He rushed over and threw his arms around her, moaning, “Honey, let’s do that again!”
    She gave a piercing scream, which almost collapsed him. Two men ran out, shouting, “Hold it there!”
    “Help!” she yelled. “Catch the hoodlum, he attacked me!”
    Manjin dashed away on shaky legs. “Stop, stop!” the men shouted. They followed him, their leather shoes thumping the cement ramp.
    After two turns, Manjin reached the brick wall of the hospital. He scaled it and landed in a flower bed, sending up a cloud of pollen and dust. He jumped to his feet and sprinted away. The men climbed over too and continued pursuing him, shouting to people ahead, “Stop that bastard! Stop him!” Manjin rushed through the cypress bushes and turned toward the front gate.
    Seeing a security guard raising a pistol and running toward him, Manjin stopped and put up his hands. The two men grabbed him from behind and pinned him to the ground. One of them kicked him in the face; his nose began bleeding. “It was a mistake!” he moaned. “I mistook her for another person. I meant to do her no harm. Oh, don’t, don’t beat me, brothers!”
    “Shut up!” The taller man chopped his neck with the edge of his hand. “Let’s go to the police station.”
    Manjin knew it was useless to beg, so he made no noise while they were binding his thumbs together from behind with a shoelace. His mind was busy trying to figure out what had actually happened. Heavens, how could he convince the police that he hadn’t intended to assault the girl? He was afraid the policemen would beat him too.
    Fortunately one of the men on duty at the company’s police station knew Manjin, so they unbound his hands and didn’t slap and punch him as they would ordinarily do to such a criminal. Instead, they locked him in a small office, whose walls were decorated with framed certificates of merit; then they returned to the girl and the two male witnesses in another room and asked them questions. Looking at the blood on the front of his gray T-shirt, Manjin couldn’t help weeping. In his heart he was cursing the unknown woman for getting him into such trouble. If only he hadn’t gone to the movies. If only he hadn’t been lazy this evening and had stayed in his office to finish his daily handwriting exercise. A few flies buzzed furiously around him, eager to land on the bloodstains on his neck; he went on waving his hand to keep them at bay. Despite his self-disgust, time and again he sniffed his fingertips; a unique smell, something like raw chestnuts, still emanated from his nails.
    He heard the girl sobbing in the adjoining office and