This Burns My Heart Page 0,27

smile. Yul moved closer, and it felt like the entire world enveloping her. He grazed his lips against hers. But just as Soo-Ja was about to kiss him, a powerful feeling of guilt tugged at her, telling her to be ashamed to picture such a life when she was already as good as married. The preparations for the wedding had been lengthy, and had involved not just Min and her, but their two sets of parents, who had to meet, talk, and be sure to trust one another. Elaborate negotiations had taken place regarding the dowry, the honeymoon, and their futures.

But what if none of those things mattered? What if I simply ran off with Yul?

And then, a sudden image arose of Soo-Ja’s body under Min’s as they made love. Min’s face, sweat dripping on his forehead, and his eyes almost rolling backward in pleasure. All the noise on the street returned—chatter from the students walking by, cars honking in the distance, a bell ringing as a front door opened. The memory shamed Soo-Ja, and she pulled away from Yul. Even if she lied and kept that night a secret, Yul would find out on their wedding night, just by looking at their sheets. What did the heroine say in that novel she’d been reading? Soo-Ja tried to recall, as the words suddenly felt very urgent. “Men—they have minds like moral flypaper,” or something to that effect. She had not understood what the author had meant until right that second.

“I have to go home now,” said Soo-Ja, almost in a panic.

“Soo-Ja, please!” said Yul, dreadful sadness painted on his face.

Soo-Ja swallowed. This was the moment, she knew, to which she would go back to in memory and say, You fool, you simple-minded fool. This was the moment she would think back to and decide, That was the night my life began, and I stopped being my father’s daughter, and earned my own name.

Soo-Ja shook her head. When she spoke, she could not tell if the apology was directed to Yul or to herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just… impossible.”

chapter five

Outside the temple, the sun began to set, as Soo-Ja’s yin, her night, crept onto Min’s yang, his day. They arrived in their own traditional palanquin—Soo-Ja’s an enclosed carriage hiding her body from the world, Min’s an exposed wooden chair held by four bearers. Soo-Ja wore a traditional green and yellow silk hanbok dress with billowing sleeves, keeping her arms bent in front of her, one on top of the other. She had her long black hair tied tightly at the back and fastened by a long pin with a dragon head at one end. Min wore a high black hat with flat sides resembling wings, and a maroon jacket embroidered with the picture of two red-crested white cranes. At the bottom, his flowing silk pants were cut off at the calf area, revealing black boots made of cloth.

As the bearers rested the palanquins on the floor, Soo-Ja and Min emerged, facing the two hundred or so invited guests sitting on long rows of white foldout chairs. Guided by their attendants, Soo-Ja and Min took their initial places, standing a few feet apart from each other. With the sound of a twelve-string zither underlining their movements, Soo-Ja’s and Min’s respective attendants gently guided them so that they would face each other. Soo-Ja and Min performed their first bow—long and slow, in perfect unison.

Then, Soo-Ja alone began a second bow, as her attendant filled a gourd with rice wine and handed it to her. Taking it with both hands and her head down, Soo-Ja kneeled on the ground and stretched out her arms, offering Min the drink. Min made sure to also hold it with both hands, his elbows out, and drank slowly, before handing the empty gourd back to his bride.

After that, it was Min’s turn to receive a gourd of wine from his attendant and offer it to Soo-Ja. Once the two of them had performed a quarter bow, not as deep and long as their initial one, Min handed her the drink. According to custom, Soo-Ja was supposed to take only a sip, express her embarrassment, and hand it back to Min. But much to his surprise, and that of the guests, Soo-Ja drank it all, in a single gulp, making a point of enjoying it.

At this point, like seasoned actors, Min’s parents took their places on the ground. Soo-Ja and Min turned to them and performed a long, elaborate