The Bridegroom Read Online Free PDF Page B

couples sang “Even My Parents Are Not as Dear as the Party and Chairman Mao” and “Our Gratitude to the People’s Army.” Then a vice mayor, a spare man in steel-rimmed glasses, spoke briefly and gave them the city’s congratulations. After the speech, he presented to each couple the gift of a rice pot and a kettle.
    However, the wedding wasn’t jolly and noisy, as weddings should be. Most of the brides looked rather somber; a few grooms stood motionless, their arms crossed before their chests, as though they were spectators. Some of them didn’t even touch the Great Gate cigarettes passed to them on plates. The air was hazy, humming a little; a dozen balloons were wavering languidly. Only a few children seemed in high spirits, seeing so many goodies on the folding tables.
    “Happy marriage!” the mayor said loudly to Shan.
    Shan’s hand trembled and she spilled her apple brandy. The wine stained the cuff of the mayor’s trouser leg and the head of his leather boot.
    Guhan stepped forward and grasped her arm, saying with a smile, “Excuse us, Comrade Mayor. She has drunk too much.”
    “I understand,” the leader replied unemotionally.
    Hurriedly Guhan pulled his bride away. Among all the grooms he seemed the happiest. Some people shot sidelong glances at him.
    Within just one hour, more than half of the couples had left. The band was packing up. An old man at the tea stand mumbled, “This is shorter than a breakfast. My seat isn’t warm yet.”
    When Guhan and Shan returned to their shack, Mo had fallen asleep in Guhan’s arms. They took off the boy’s khaki jacket and pants and put him into the brick bed, which had been heated by an old woman from the Street Committee of the neighborhood.
    Guhan sat down on their only chair and looked at Shan, who was washing her face over a yellow basin in a corner. Steam issued from her head, and her chest bulged a little in a red woolen sweater. Quietly he got up and went over. His palm touched the small of her back, caressing her while his stomach tightened.
    She knocked off his hand with the wet towel and turned around, her eyes dim and a few tears on her cheeks. “Don’t touch me!” she cried.
    “What happened?” he asked in surprise.
    “I can’t do it tonight.”
    “Do what?”
    “You know.”
    “Why?”
    “I can’t.”
    “Come on, I’ve been waiting for such a long time.” He grinned suggestively.
    “I can’t do it.”
    He kicked away the brand-new enamel chamber pot, which was a present from the Street Committee, and added, “Then why did you agree to get married?”
    She turned to look at the sleeping boy, who didn’t stir. Lowering her head, she burst out sobbing. That frightened Guhan. He embraced her shoulders with one arm and asked rather gently, “What’s wrong, Shan? If you don’t want to, I can wait. Don’t be scared. I’m not a cruel man.” He kissed her cheek and noticed she had long eyelashes, which cast frail shadows on her lower lids.
    “I’m not scared,” she moaned with her eyes shut. “I feel so sad, can’t shut my family out of my mind. I see him on your face. Even your voice reminds me of his. Oh, how I miss them! I don’t even have a photo of them.”
    Guhan felt bad, but said, “There, now, don’t cry so hard. I’ll help you get over it.”
    But her sobbing became unstoppable. She lay down on her stomach beside the boy and buried her face in a pillow. He wanted to console her some, but didn’t know what to say. Having sat in silence for a few minutes, he took off his clothes, climbed into his camp bed, and covered himself with a quilt.
    She wept into the small hours.
    Before the wedding, Shan had asked Guhan several questions, none of which he could answer. He couldn’t even tell her his exact age, just saying, “I’m around fifty,” or describe what his former family was like. “Probably he goes by an alias,” suggested Aunt Tian, who lived next door. Never had he shown any trace of grief over the