To Mulan's dismay, the next day of training passed with no improvement whatsoever.
It was the day when the whole regiment went to explore the untamed thicket of the surrounding woodland as a part of their survival training. The journey itself was quite pleasant, but what awaited them wasn't. First, the recruits had to stand in the freezing cold current, attempting to bucket themselves a fish each.
Trivial enough.
But then Mulan realized that they were supposed to catch the slimy creature barehanded―let's just say this was another test of precision, alertness, and speed.
And the only thing she managed to catch was Yao's foot (accidentally sending Yao underwater and nearly drowning him). Mulan embarrassedly put his foot down, profusely apologizing but only managed to get another unamused glare from him.
Only after giving a portion of her dinner to him for the entire week was her debt written off.
They walked back to the encampment for what they had thought would be a 'well-deserved rest.' But of course, there was no such thing. Shang had taken a long way to return to get to one particular part of the river where there was no bridge to traverse―instead, it was a series of flimsy-looking poles sticking out from the water.
"I know you all want to go home," Shang said, a hint of an evil smirk tugging on his lips. "Anyone who falls into the river will have to repeat the exercise," he commanded. "This task will train you to combine balance, speed, and agility."
Mulan couldn't believe this cold-blooded instructor was none other than her husband. If he unravelled her inconceivable disguise, undoubtfully he would Kung-Fu chop her in half!
This time around, Mulan reaped the benefit of being the smallest in stature. Her lightweight and small feet meant she could comfortably keep her footing and conquer the obstacle with little effort.
It was Chien-Po who became the group's bottleneck. The corpulent man struggled not to lose his balance. As a consequence, he hesitated a lot and forestalled the rest of the recruits behind him. And that wasn't the only bad news. Chien-Po didn't know how to swim! Mulan heard his panicked yelp as he fell into the water with his limbs flailing frantically for help. Thankfully, Shang was swift to come to his rescue. It took Chien-Po a good dozen tries of crossing and falling before he got to the other side of the river without touching the water.
By the time the whole drill was over, it was already dark. They were all exhausted, bruised and hungry as their slavedriver commander only allowed them to consume the fish that they caught for lunch and nothing else.
When the sight of their makeshift tents came into view, the recruits foolishly thought the day was over.
"Who said you were all dismissed?" Shang's stern voice halted the men in their sluggish tracks."One final exercise before we call it a day."
Shang's announcement was reciprocated by a collective groan which he cut off sharply.
"You think I did this on purpose?" he bristled. The men froze as their aggravated captain's fist balled in fury. "War knows no rest, men! War knows no second chance!" he snapped. "The objective of war is not just to die for your country, but to live for it!"
The murmur of discontent immediately transformed into a sigh of contriteness as Shang delivered his speech.
But Shang didn't seem to care and wasted no time in explaining the next obstacle course. "We have to remain as vigilant during the night as we are during the day. Statistics reveal that a lot of instant victories were claimed during an unexpected ambush in the night," he said, anointing his arrows with oil before setting them ablaze. "As a soldier, your instinct may tell you to stay and fight, but as a sane person I would suggest you run."
Chaos erupted as their Captain entered a hunting frenzy mode, aiming his arrows very close to any hapless recruits. The crowds were soon dispersed.
Mulan managed to duck just in time as one burning arrow passed above her head. If her father knew that her husband nearly barbecued her alive, there would be a long, unpleasant lecture in order.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Chi-Fu, standing amusedly watching the entire regiment roaring in panic, occasionally looking down at his parchment to take some notes.
"You must learn that running away can be a beneficial skill too," Shang told Chien-Po who had his butt seared. It was obvious that speed and agility would never be his forte. He whimpered as the Captain removed the extinguished article and applied a cold solvent on his charred behind.
The past two weeks of physical drills proved to be horribly gruesome. And it was double the burden since Mulan was still learning how to conduct herself as a man.
Kung Fu soon became part of their routine. Every morning, the whole battalion was caught in a voiceless dance with unseen enemies as their reflective blades bathed in the sun's golden light.
Shang normally would lead the training, standing in front of the entire battalion to give a demonstration.
Holding his perfect posture, Shang readied his stance before commanding an apprentice to launch their attack. Mulan's heart throbbed uncontrollably when witnessing how her husband demonstrated his martial art fluency. His movements were fluid; swift as a coursing river, forceful as a great typhoon, and as strong as a raging fire.
But the top to-die-for-must-watch list was watching two equally competent men engaged in combat. Although she had often watched her father with a few friends train or fight together, watching men her own age engaged in battle was something exhilarating and tense at the same time. Both of them were fighting with two types of weapons simultaneously, jumping at each other's throats and trying to find their adversaries' weaknesses and taking advantage of any opportunities to sneak in an ambush.
Mulan felt her heart race, both with anticipation and arousal, watching the raw power completely unleashed, in a manner he never did with her. Shang's movements were sharp, staccatoed with a lethal ambush at each end, while Shao's tended to be smooth and lyrical. This fight was different from the demonstrations Shang did with the other recruits, which tended to be very much one-sided. There was a rhythm to the fight. Both of them seemed to be keeping an internal tempo as they paced around each other.
Shao was a challenge. He kept Shang on his toes. It wasn't often that Shao won a match, but it was often enough that Shang didn't take victory for granted. And Shao, despite not being a soldier as long as Shang, was an astonishingly fast learner. He absorbed new fight techniques and information like a sponge and could expand on them without much instruction, which meant he sometimes took Shang by surprise.
At one particular moment, Shang managed to land a square kick on Shao's abdomen, sending him straight to the ground. But the Prince recovered with haste, standing and taking his stance then spontaneously changing his tactics. He immediately realized that Shang outperformed him in the strength department, but he was honest and clean with his attack. Manipulating Shang into believing that he was defeated and cunningly sneaking in an unexpected ambush would seal the deal. Within five minutes, their positions reversed and he had Shang disarmed. Shao grinned triumphantly at the captain.
"Expect the unexpected, Captain Li," he said with his sword still pointing at Shang's jaw.
"Point taken," Shang replied, taking a deep bow and accepting his defeat like a good soldier. "It was my pleasure to learn from you, Shao Wei."
"You fought well. I have to admit your raw strength and calculated brutality nearly beat me today." Shao offered his hand which Shang took gladly.
Mulan closed her eyes and fought for control. Her cheeks were hot both from the sun and the show proceeding before her. And oh, her badly sated hormones were roaring out for release! Now, she could understand why many married women had blindly dismissed the fact that their husbands may have gone astray to a brothel while they were serving in the army. Lust was a powerful, untamed force. It's when one feels that irrepressible tug, the curious pull that draws you toward another person with such a ferocious intensity; it went almost beyond the realm of self-control. It's the seductive sensation that sensually swept itself across the core when one identified the object of his/her affection.
Around the encampment Mulan had heard whispers about Shang, about how lethal and sharp he was, how smart and well-acclimated with war and battle strategy. People were starting to respect his name. Those who didn't respect it were the ones who feared it. She had kept her ears to the ground and heard it all, feeling a secret thrill that the same man had, in fact, been married to her. But as much as she had heard about him, she had never seen him in action. That was being corrected quite thoroughly right now, and she was gawking―unabashedly―until Ling's sharp elbow landed right on her ribcage.
"Ping!"
She scrambled off her seat, head going into overdrive when she realized someone had spotted her drooling over two shirtless, sweaty men.
Ling grinned. "I see that you are watching our regiment's heartthrobs fighting. Which one do you fancy? Left or right?"
Even though Mulan had no interest in embroiling herself with a palace romance if Ling still delusively thought she had fallen for the Prince he might not dig up the truth about her relationship with Shang.
Mulan elbowed him back. "Shush, Ling. That is a dangerous liaison, you better not start gossiping."
"Speaking of the devil, Captain Handsome wants you in his tent right after the morning training," he said, grinning like a lunatic at the connotation.
When she didn't respond immediately, he repeated. "In. His. Tent...―imagine that." He waggled his brows.
"Haha. Very funny," Mulan retorted wryly. "For the record, he called Chi-Fu inside his tent too. More than once."
Mulan headed to Li Shang's tent as she was told. Arriving there, she peeked through the gap in the entrance and her sight fell onto Li Shang's bareback.
He was doing a press-up on the floor. He was exerting; lifting and lowering himself, grunting with his efforts as sweat dripped down his abdomen, muscles slick and shining, straining with each push. She watched her husband's body, marvelling at how beautiful it was; forged in fire and pain and blood; and something shifted inside her, clicking into place as she noticed the tightly-corded muscles of his neck, coated in a fine sheen of sweat.
"Oh, Hi Captain. Hope I, uh―, didn't disturb, um―, your activity," Mulan stammered when she realized she had been caught staring. How embarrassing! But she couldn't help it. Her eyes seemed to ignore all the commands her brain was firing at it.
"No, Ping. I actually have something for you," Shang informed. His expression was grave as usual. It was impossible for Mulan to decode what he had in mind.
For the record, none of that 'something' was ever anything good or pleasant. Mulan didn't dare set her hopes too high on this one. Had any of her stupid blunders caused her to earn this private castigation? Or had anyone else become the victim of her apocalyptic clumsiness without her knowing?
And that was when the killer of all romantic moments arrived. The sound of Chi-Fu's hoarse voice calling Shang reverberated outside the tent. If Mulan didn't know him any better, she thought the Emperor Councilor must have a vendetta against her.
"Wait here, I just need to finish my business with Chi-Fu."
While the Captain was occupied by the presence of the snivelling Emperor Counselor, Mulan methodologically studied the tent which Shang had intimately called his home away from his home.
The interior was very basic, consisting of a cloak, very little clothing, a stack of books, a spare helmet, piles of maps and rudimentary medical supplies. Everything was what Mulan expected from anyone on the battlefield. However, her eyes strayed and landed on a pile of papers next to Shang's makeshift desk.
Her heart nearly stopped. The stack of abandoned parchment was filled with Shang's masculine strokes, reciting incomplete sentences and unfinished stories. Shang was a man of few words, finding that action was better suited to his non-verbose proclivity. Then, Mulan saw something poking from Shang's large sack. Mulan pulled the paper from its hiding place and opened it.
It was a letter. Her letter, to be exact.
Dang, how exactly did he do it every time? Every time she tried to nitpick an excuse to despise him, to be angry with him, he would turn around and do something that melted her heart without even trying.
She scanned through the letter, refreshing her memory of the things she mentioned to Shang weeks back. Despite their relationship and the appellative she used to address him as her husband, her letter was impersonal but polite, written merely as a formality that glossed over the superficial truth of their relationship. There was hardly anything sentimental inside that letter that made it worth keeping as far as she could tell, let alone spending such efforts to reply to it.
Then Mulan heard the sound of heavy footfalls approaching from outside the tent, approaching. Frantically, she returned all of the letters to their original position, however, accidentally cluttered the neat stack of scrolls by Shang's bed.
The canisters travelled in diverging directions all over the floor. Hearing the clattering sound from his tent, Shang stormed in. His feet were greeted with numerous cylindrical contraptions. The momentum from his movement caused him to reel forward uncontrollably and crash into her. The two of them landed in an inelegant heap, in the middle of the scroll mayhem.
Her hand made contact with his seriously muscled arms, the same moment his head shot up towards her, the naked surprise evident in his eyes. He just looked at her for a few moments, before the surprise turned into a hint of amusement and ... embarrassment? Impossible! But hey, at least she had successfully erased that dead look on his face.
Shang gave his arms a push and got up with such athletic grace that all she could do was lay flat on the floor and stare for a while. He nonchalantly dusted himself off before offering her his hand.
"Are you alright?"
There was a tiny hint of pink on his cheeks.
Was he… blushing?
"Yes… yes, I am, Captain," Mulan spluttered, her heart commanding her fingers to accept his generous helping hand, but her head saying otherwise.
"Ouch!" Thanks to her catastrophic carelessness―she fell again, which was not impossible if your name was Fa Mulan. Fortunately, this time minus a gorgeous captain on top of her. Or was it, unfortunately? She grimaced and started to pull back her foot when she felt his hand, rough and warm, grip her ankle.
"Let me help," he said, efficiently examining her ankle. His finger pressure hit one painful spot. Her breath hitched, and she gasped out loud.
"Looked like you've sprained your ankle," he said, massaging the spot.
Mulan breathed in, trying to swallow. She would have been successful, but then his hand moved from her ankle, slowly up her calf and her throat tightened in a knot. The painful sensation progressively transformed into a soothing feeling that wracked through her entire body. Shang moved closer to inspect her. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face. She instinctively leaned back to try to create a gap between them.
"I'm going to carry you to the medic tent."
"No, no…" Mulan shook her head, panicking. She didn't know whether her heart could survive another moment of intimate closeness without the risk of a heart attack.
"I can walk there on my own."
She tried to stand, but her ankle hated her for that.
"Ping!" A pair of toned arms captured her. The word of concern that exploded from his lips sounded much too good in her ears.
She closed her eyes for a moment just to catch her breath, involuntarily inhaling his scent―a combination of sun, dust and hard work. She remembered the last time she felt this―this heady sensation of floating above a cliff, just getting ready to fall. She felt hot, feverish, unable to speak coherently and her inner self quivering like jelly.
He seemed to remain calm and deposited her on the side of his bed. "Sit here, let me grab some ointment." His voice came out neutral and conversational, as though nothing had happened.
This time Mulan nodded weakly and submitted to his will. As soon as his rough skin pressed against hers, her heart resumed pounding in rapid beats. The room fell into glacial silence, but his touch had spoken thousands of words she wanted to hear. Slowly, she stole a glimpse of him from under her lashes, just watching him methodically search for the nerve point, observing the scruff on his face that had gone without a shave for too long, watching his eyebrows draw together in deep concentration, and scrutinizing every hard feature on his face that she found strangely endearing.
But unfortunately, she wasn't the only person who had her eyes on Shang. A snivelling shadow of Chi-Fu emerged through the tent opening. He must've heard the ruckus.
"Captain? Anything wrong?" But his sympathetic gaze transformed into a disapproving scowl at the sight of her.
She thought Shang's hand would halt its ministrations, now that Chi-Fu's suspicious glare was directly on him. But, she underestimated him perhaps. Shang just gazed back at the Emperor Counselor in a calm manner and spoke, his voice business-like, all the while brushing his rough fingers over her soft skin, driving her madder by the minute. "Fa Ping fell and sprained his ankle."
Chi-Fu's sceptical eyes turned to her, hands ready to take notes. "Oh, is that so?"―cue creepy, distrusting stare.
Shang saw vulnerable Ping cower under Chi-Fu's interrogative stare and his hackles were raised at the man's condemning tone. He immediately responded with a predatory glare that Mulan never wished to see again. "Are you implying that I made things up?" Shang could barely restrain his voice to stay within the thin layer of the tent.
He was not even trying to conceal the murder in his eyes. Mulan thought of interrupting....perhaps singing a song or faking a cardiac arrest would be a good idea. Thankfully, the murder slowly drained out before she needed to intervene. His hand let go of her leg and came up to the table, cracking his knuckles.
Stupid males and their testosterone had no appreciation for the weak-hearted!
"I am sure you came back here not just to spy on me?" Shang asked him with his stern, accusative voice.
"Of course not," Chi-Fu smirked smugly. "I just received another letter from General Li."
With a sigh, Shang stepped away from her, nodding silently to dismiss her and ushered the Emperor Counselor toward the exit to speak with him outside.
That night, Mulan sat on her bed, looking around to be sure the predominantly male resident of the tent was fast asleep before slipping her finger carefully to remove the tie around the parchment in her hands.
My Dear Daughter Fa-Li Mulan, it said in skilful strokes.
She was stunned in her seat for a moment, realizing her father had uncovered her disguise. For weeks she had been faithfully writing to him as though she were residing at the Li's family home, keeping up the illusion of her absence. And she did likewise to her mother-in-law, making her think she had been living with the Fa's.
Pulling a deep breath, she read the next sentence, one word at a time.
There is no right word to describe how I feel right now as I pen this letter to you; when I know that you wear my armour and bear my sword. I know you have made a choice. A hard choice―which I respect. But let me say a few words.
When I was young, your grandfather told me this, "If you see something wrong happening in the world, you can either do nothing, or you can do something."
I believe none of us is ever going to settle for the first option. It is not in our blood to do so.
….and that's why I am not trying to stop you.
Beads of tears hung in the corners of her eyes and a sob clawed its way up her throat. She could almost hear the deep, patient voice of her father behind every word that was written.
Whatever the outcome of your training―failure or success, defeat or victory, please remember that I will always be your proud father no matter what.
But war is more complicated than you think. I learned this the hard way, a long, long time ago. I wish I could tell you that there is one bad person to blame for every war. But I cannot. Because we are all to blame.
And whatever Shang has said to you before, please don't hate him for refusing to take my place―my duty to China is not his burden to bear. Shang is an honourable man who has gone above and beyond for his country. His job is to take good care of you...and it's your job to honour him.
But I won't breathe a word about your presence there. It is not my story to tell.
But please promise me, that one day. Someday. You will tell him.
My dear daughter, it is my deepest wish that you return to me. But your fate was never in my hands to determine.
If the Gods are willing, we shall be reunited in due time. But in the meantime, this is goodbye.
Until we meet again, my precious girl.
Your father,
Fa Zhou
Attached with the letter was a necklace, with a crescent locket belonging to her father. Unbidden memories from when she had been a little girl, flooded into her mind. Her father brought her a new trinket from the village, smiling at the way she always tripped on the doorway, laughing when he tickled her into submission. Memories from her adolescence, how he used to shake his head fondly at her, ruffling her hair when she got annoyed, letting her use whatever part of his armour she wanted to play with, brought a small smile to her lips.
But her musing was rudely interrupted by a rustling sound inside her sackcloth. Reasoning that they were in the vicinity of the woods, and any poisonous animal could well linger and take up residence inside her bag, Mulan took a dry branch and poked the bag. A loud 'Ouch!' was heard.
She knew she shouldn't be pleased to hear that, but she strangely was. Well, because poisonous animals normally couldn't talk.
"What did you poke me for? Is that any way to welcome your sacred guardian?"
Mulan automatically scrambled to the edge of her matt. "Who… who are you?" Her frantic movements disturbed the two male residents next to her. Chien-Po grunted before turning his face to the wall and drifting back to sleep, but no such luck with Ling.
"Mulan," he said sleepily, "What's all the fuss about? Go back to sleep."
"Ling," she whispered lowly into his friend's ear. "Don't you see something? Or at least… hear something?"
Mushu began to laugh boisterously, Mulan was sure he would wake the entire tent, but even Ling didn't even seem to notice.
"What are you talking about?" The lanky man sat up, rubbing his eyes before looking around to check for any abnormality. "I don't see anything. Maybe you've been staring at Captain Handsome too long. You've begun hallucinating!" he joked as he laid his head back down on his pillow.
"Don't call him that!" Mulan was ready to smite her friend with her pillow when the creature interrupted her.
"Now, let's get out of here before the entire regiment thinks you're crazy," he offered. And for whatever unclear reason, Mulan decided to follow him, taking the sack with her.
They walked to the encampment border and slightly beyond to make sure no one could hear them (well, no one could hear her, as she had just established, no one could hear nor see the strange creature).
"But…. Where? Why..―? I mean, what are you?" she gasped when reality struck her. "You are….a ghost?!"
"Here's a hint," He pointed to the necklace in her hand.
"Wait, you're you came from the pendant?" Mulan picked up the necklace and scrutinized its features. There was a 'yin' symbol on one side and a Phoenix painting on the other. There was no dragon to be seen.
She tilted her head and squinted her eyes, trying to correlate the picture on her pendant with the embodiment of what she thought was a red house lizard holding a coin.
"You are one very odd-looking bird," she said, appraising the look of the creature.
"They weren't kiddin' when they said you were freakin' nuts," he frowned. "I've been called a lizard, snake, iguana, chameleon… you name it, but a bird? Did you get your eyes tested before joinin' the army?" the creature protested.
"Wait, what?"
She must've said that a little too loudly because the dragon immediately slapped his claws over her mouth to silence her. "Remember, you don't want your comrades to think you're talkin' to a tree."
Mulan lowered her voice. "Who are 'they'?" And how dare they called her freakin' nuts!
"Your ancestors, Girl! When your father realized you were gone―it took him two weeks, by the way, well done!―he prayed in the family temple, and your great great great great grandfather summoned the greatest guardian of all to come and protect you."
"That is a hell of a lot of greatness in one sentence," Mulan muttered in both bewilderment and amusement at the absurdity of the situation.
"Indeed. Therefore, let me introduce myself," he pounded his gong and then bowed dramatically. "My name is Mushu, the Amazing Dragon Chaperone...At your service," he curtsied animatedly.
Mulan squinted as if it would improve her vision. "You're a dragon?"
"I am a dragon," the creature confirmed.
"Oh, sorry. I've misunderstood. I thought you were meant to be the reincarnation of the Phoenix on my pendant," she said, scrutinizing the engraving on the pendant that was suspended on a tan leather string.
"No, no… she is on a perpetual vacation. AWOL. So, I figure since Shang won't need my protection, I may as well protect you," he clarified. "FYI, he had the other half of your token."
Mulan wanted to ask how exactly the tiny dragon was going to protect her, but she had a more pressing question.
"You… you know Shang?"
"Of course! I am a mighty divinity. And as part of the yin and yang embodiment, one of my many jobs is to make sure your marriage remains balanced and harmonious."
"You are here to make sure that my marriage is…―" Mulan scoffed incredulously. "There is nothing wrong with our marriage. Shang and I adjusted perfectly to domestic life. I cook, he eats. And then he works, I shop…―"
"A workshop?"
"Yeah, could be," Mulan crossed her arms and grinned. "See?" she crowed." We are living happily ever after! The end."
"Really? Then why are you here hiding away from your husband, masquerading yourself as a man?" the Dragon countered. "And don't you think a mighty deity like me didn't see how his subject was drooling over her own husband's abs while he was training?"
She stiffened at this and averted her face, hoping the Dragon couldn't see how red she was turning. "It's―...it's complicated."
"I bet it is," Mushu scoffed, rolling his eyes at her. "However, you are not the only woman who considers truth to be complicated." He shook his head. "Ladies are always so byzantine."
"It's all his fault. You said you know him. Have you seen him act? Have you seen the way he treated me? He treated me like I'm a procreation vessel!"
"I thought... you are?" Mushu replied stupidly.
"No, I'm not!"
"He bossed me around all day, wanted me to be polite, submissive and all that jazz. I worked my butt off all day in the kitchen. I was lonely. I missed my father... my brother... my home! Hell, I missed my life! And in return, I got what? A cold look? A husband who didn't care if my father would perish in war?" Mulan launched into an uncontrollable rant. "I don't get him. I don't get him at all! Gods know how can I like someone I don't understand?"
Mushu's expression visibly softened. "Are you... angry with him?"
"Of course!" Mulan cut her eyes to the side, feeling her eyes warmed with tears. Why did she have to cry over a man she didn't even like?
"I get it. I know a man can be an insensitive imbecile sometimes. But have you stopped and thought... whether he is equally frustrated as you are him? I mean, if you failed to understand Shang. What's the chance he understood you? I mean... he kept your letter like a treasure. Isn't that at least mean something to you?"
'Still doesn't make him likeable," Mulan said stubbornly. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have some beauty sleep to catch!" she said half scathingly and stormed into the tent.
When she arrived back in her shared living space, she carelessly tossed herself onto her mat and pulled the blanket to the top of her head, earning another unhappy grunt from her snoring neighbours.
Perhaps this was just a dream. A bizarre dream about a mythical creature that worked as a love cupid―an advocator to a man she tried to hate.
She often wondered, what kind of person Shang was under the steel facade. He was harsh and distant throughout their relationship, and she was equally combative in her response. But her heart…and perhaps her soul…had a differing opinion. Her heart and soul made her want to be close to him, to touch him and to be cared for by him, just like what he did in his tent earlier.
After an hour of staring at the distant point of the tent ceiling, Mulan was resigned to the fact that slumber wouldn't come to her that evening. Especially considering she had just been confronted by a talking dragon...
… and thanks to her deal with Yao, the rising grumble from her stomach didn't help one bit. Note to self, swapping dinner for forgiveness is never a good idea.
Cursing under her breath, she marched out of the tent.
She noticed that Mushu came to join her, but she didn't want to start another conversation that would lead her into talking about her angst-filled relationship with Shang, so she pretended not to notice him.
With the moonlight to help her navigate through the dark, beaten path, Mulan walked into the nearby woods in search of something to appease her hunger. She found a wild raspberry scrub (or at least what she thought was. It's hard to identify anything in the dark), and popped the berries into her mouth unceremoniously.
She thought she had seen enough surprises in a day but then she caught a glimpse of a familiar athletic form beyond the thicket of the coppice by the river.
"Wait, is that the Prince of Wei?" she heard Mushu whisper into her ear.
It really was him. What was he doing in the middle of the night? Was he hungry too? But knowing even Chi-Fu would willingly surrender his meal to the Prince, Mulan dismissed that thought as unlikely.
Scrupulously, Mulan prowled closer, carefully so as not to attract unwanted attention.
...And the Prince wasn't alone.
A woman was with him.
She was dressed in a dark-coloured deel and an ushanka on top of her head. Her face was half concealed by a translucent veil, but judging from her apparel, she was clearly not Chinese.
She was one of the Huns.
Mulan observed quietly from a good distance. There was no way she could pick up the Prince's or the mysterious woman's expressions. She was trying to read their body language. Shao Wei's back was addressing her, and with a glimpse of luck, she might have been able to see the woman's face. But in such dimly lit woods with a number of trees still between her and them, it wasn't a trivial task. Mulan admonished herself for neglecting her mother's instruction to eat plenty of carrots. Telescopic vision would be handy in a time like this.
And then something unexpected happened. The Prince of Wei pulled back his cloak and bowed in the manner of a nobleman acknowledging a position of authority. "Your Highness, it's been a while."
Beside her, Mushu gasped dramatically. "Holy ancestor! Is she…. a princess?!"
"Worse, she is the princess of the enemy," Mulan pointed out as the woman took off her veil, smiled and returned the Prince's gesture.
"You sound ridiculous when you call me that, but it's my pleasure―my Prince," the woman reciprocated.
"You reckon they are... friends?" Mushu whispered into her ears. Mulan recognized the way the Princess looked at the Prince of Wei. It was that soft, longing look, full of emotion and hopefulness. It was perhaps the same way she looked at Shang.
"Maybe yes... or...maybe more."
"How do you know this?" Mushu asked, and Mulan realized she must've spoken her thoughts out loud.
She shrugged, "That's the beauty of human expression. People keep secrets, but their eyes cannot lie."
"Isn't it ironic that those words coming from you?" Mushu gave her a look. Mulan ignored him, eyes focusing on the drama that was unfolding before her.
Is it possible that the Prince of Wei is a traitor?
However, her deep contemplation was rudely interrupted by the presence of a dark shadow looming above her. Large hands covered her mouth before she had a chance to scream.
Quiet!" the stranger hissed, his grip around Mulan's mouth getting tighter as she fought for release. Mulan wasn't sure why she complied with her captor's command, perhaps because of the familiar way his rough knuckles brushed against her skin, or the comforting masculine scent gently caressing her nose.
Sensing that she had stopped fighting him, her captor loosened his grip and turned her around to face him. She gasped.
Shang?!
"Ping, what are you doing here so late at night? Aren't you aware of how close we are to the Mongolian border?" There was a strange zap that travelled up her arm when their skin made contact; Mulan had to believe that it was nothing but coincidence because their hands had touched plenty of times before without that interesting reaction, during training, sparring and…. making love.
"This can't possibly get any worse," she heard Mushu's half-amused voice behind her ear.
"Please remember in the future that you're the one who said that," she told him quietly so Shang couldn't hear.
"Can you explain yourself?" Shang demanded. Mulan flinched under his penetrating glare.
"I...―" she sputtered, mustering her courage. Well, what are you doing here too, Shang? Regardless of her desire to question her captain, Mulan wasn't going to challenge Shang's authority. "I was just hungry." That wasn't a lie. She pulled items from her pocket that looked like fruits. "See―?"
If she hadn't been so overwhelmed with her own hormonal tide, she would've registered that the Prince of Wei and the mysterious princess had disappeared from view, swallowed by the dark landscape of the surrounding coppice.
After threatening Ping that he would face brutal retribution as a consequence of his action, Shang gruffly dismissed his brother-in-law and told the boy never to leave the encampment without gaining permission first.
Shang breathed out a disgruntled sigh upon entering his own tent. The letter from his father that Chi-Fu had delivered earlier still lay on his bed.
If it weren't for Ping jeopardizing his political espionage, he would've gotten a better idea of the identity of the mysterious woman who the Prince had met, or at least gotten a hint of the nature of their relationship.
No wonder Shao Wei had explicitly requested him not to chaperone him to his private spot in the woods that he claimed to be his 'bathing and toilet' spot which had now turned out to be a secret point of rendezvous. It all made sense.
Perhaps the woman he spied earlier with Shao Wei was a conniving Hun Princess and the Prince of Wei was the jackass who'd been complicit to her seduction―as repeated numerous times in written history, many mighty men had fallen helpless in the arms of a beautiful woman.
Shang sank into his bed as he contemplated his next move. He would definitely spy on the Prince again, and this time, he wouldn't let anything or anyone intervene with his mission.
The next day, Shang invited his trainee for a hike to survey the new field for their training exercise. After the atrocious day, Mulan had yesterday sparring with the Captain, she thought today was going to be a better day.
She was wrong. Very… wrong.
Perhaps it was the cold wind last night combined with another day of brutal training, Mulan woke up with an unpleasant soreness all over her limbs and she felt inexplicably nauseated. Dragging herself to get to the breakfast rush, she was welcomed by Ling's and Chien-Po's scrutinizing stares.
"For the love of Guan-Kim, you look like someone who was raised from the dead," Ling said in shock.
Mulan checked her countenance over the surface of her tea. The slight bruising around her eyes where Shang had hit her square during their sparring session had turned into nasty purple and black discolouration.
"I don't feel much different either," Mulan said, staring into the amber depths of her cup.
"Remember, never try to impress our captain by offering to be his punchbag."
Mulan looked scandalized. "I didn't. He picked me."
"Here, maybe breakfast will do you good," Ling suggested. "You skipped dinner last night. It's no wonder your stomach is upset." He offered her a plate of warm bean buns.
"Actually, I….―" Mulan opened her mouth to tell Ling about her encounter with the Prince of Wei but closed it quickly when she remembered who else she had met that night. She wasn't ready for her best friend to interrogate her about what other 'naughty' things she did with their Captain in the middle of the woods, alone.
"Thanks," Mulan said, pushing the bean bun into her throat without caring much about her womanly etiquette.
"Were you just about to tell me something?"
Before she could weave some cover story to cover her lies, the urge to throw up returned with a vengeance, propelling her to run into a nearby bush to empty the contents of her stomach.
She heard rapid footsteps as Ling followed right behind her.
"Ping! Are you okay?" Ling's concerned eyes scanned over her as he handed her another warm cup of tea. "I think you should tell Captain Li that you need to see a doctor."
"I'll be fine," she said, sighing gratefully when the warm liquid washed away the residue of the vomit that still burned her throat and abated the growing tide of nausea that pooled in her stomach. "Come on, let's go."
They quickly made a beeline towards the crowd of recruits, who began lining up into their training formation and camouflaged themselves among the uniformly dressed soldiers. From the front, Mulan could hear Shang sternly barking out his orders.
"Don't rely on your weapon. Because there are times you will be out of arrows, or your bow will break, or you will be without your sword or any other form of armament. But your body can be the most lethal weapon of all. Use your fist, legs, even the skull of your head..."
Ling peered towards Chi-Fu and made a remark about the councillor's jagged array of teeth. "I can see someone who has tried to use teeth as his weapon." Mulan bit down her chuckle, she must admit Ling had an impeccable sense of humour.
"...―thus, it is crucial that we train our body to be the strongest weapon it can be," Shang said, gesturing to a pile of baskets that he had prepared for the drill.
First, they were told to carry a load of stones balanced on the staff across their shoulder. The journey was bearable until the trees that dominated the land became less, and the ground beneath them took on the appearance of an unfriendly, jagged body of rocky mountains. The heat became their mortal enemy as there was no undergrowth providing them with necessary shelter. Mulan's limbs were still aching from the archery and the swimming drill, but giving up was not an option. On top of that, she had a healing ankle that still throbbed painfully and a darkened eye as a result of Shang's lethal punch.
Her father would've been furious if he knew Shang had caused that.
Then, the second problem came. The terrain became unbelievably steep and rocky. Shang attached each of their waists with ropes and told the recruits to tether themselves in pairs to ensure each other's safety.
Her limbs were covered in cuts and bruises from the climb. And the heat didn't help either. As the fatigue and exhaustion took their toll, she began to lose her balance, dropping her pack and her staff with a thud.
"Ping!" Chien-Po's concerned voice came from below her. The man wasn't in any better condition, supporting his own weight must've been a real burden right now.
"Ugh, not really," Mulan admitted, feeling her arms tremble from the load she bore.
"It's not a good idea to train on an empty stomach, and I told you to see a doctor," Ling admonished. Mulan had been giving her dinner to Yao as a form of apology for drowning him in her venture to catch a fish. "Your mind may be willing, but there is only so much that your body can bear."
Mulan chose to ignore Ling's patronizing lecture because ahead of them was a devious-looking vertical cliff they had to tackle and down below was a gaping hundred-meter drop into a ravine. The thought of falling didn't do her any good, she huffed to coax her courage and energy.
Just as Mulan began to push herself up, she began to see black spots swim across her vision and her thoughts began to feel hazy.
"Help," she managed to whisper as the edges of her vision began closing in. "Help me…―" And everything went black.
Mulan didn't know how long she was out. But for once, she didn't really mind fainting. It was a great alternative to Shang's never-ending ruthless drill.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Slowly, her consciousness returned.
"Am I… am I alive?" Mulan asked, quickly rubbing her eyes to restore her vision. She saw the glimpse of her comrades looking down, but more importantly, Shang was there, looming over her with a worried expression cast over his eyes. "Or are we both dead?" she corrected, realizing there was no way the strict captain would ever carry such a soft expression.
"I heard you didn't eat dinner for the last couple of days in a row, and you skipped breakfast this morning." Shang's voice was restored to its stern quality. "Do you know how foolish that is? Our bodies are our weapons, Ping. Our best chance for survival is that we take care of it every chance we get. This cannot happen again!"
"I'm… I'm sorry Captain," she cowered under the towering man. "It's just that…―"
"You better go freshen yourself up at the river," Shang interrupted. He didn't want to set the bad habit of allowing his recruits to earn his sympathy by throwing in random excuses. "Hurry, you are late for our next exercise."
Mulan dejectedly crawled away, her chest was burning with shame. She thought she would've been accustomed to Shang's imperious attitude and harshness ever since he married her, but that wasn't exactly the case.
From her peripheral vision, she saw Shang standing by the edge of the cliff with a bucket of water balanced on his head. Mulan could hear his instruction faintly across the distance. Something to do with balance and finding your centre. Just imagining how it felt like to stand where he was, made her stomach flip. She wet her face and gulped a generous amount of cold water, letting the coolness repel the dizziness and keep her nausea at bay.
But she didn't expect what came next. Shang readied his combat stance while a few men diligently picked up stones. On his command, the recruits began to throw stones at him. Some looked like they were using the opportunity to take their vengeance for making them endure such a horrible hike. However, their magnificent commander thwarted every single attack―spinning his staff skillfully to deflect them all. It was like watching an acrobatic demonstration.
"Now, who would like to try first or….shall I start picking volunteers?" His announcement was acknowledged by grim silence among them. In the best case―one would definitely suffer humiliation, and in the worst case―end up dead at the bottom of the ravine.
Even if she wouldn't score well in the actual drill, she could earn back Shang's favour by volunteering. Mulan steeled herself and took a calming breath before stepping forward to say, "I'll do it, Captain." From beyond the crowd, Ling was mouthing something furiously and made a gesture of slicing his own throat. Mulan pretended she didn't see him.
Shang gave her his spot, and Mulan tried hard not to imagine the deep crevasse that lurked just beyond the ground she stood on. Thankfully, balancing the bucket took all of her concentration and provided a real distraction not to think about her fear.
It took her a long while to stable the pail on her head, not to mention her top knot made the task more difficult than it already was. Unfortunately, her comrades weren't as patient to wait and already ensued aiming the rocks at her even when she clearly wasn't ready.
On one particular instance, Mulan saw one large rock coming right at her face and she ducked down to avoid it. Her sudden movement resulted in the bucket flipping on her head, drenching her right to her toes. Even then, she didn't stop swinging her staff blindly from underneath.
By a little stroke of luck, even with the bucket still covering her field of vision, Mulan managed to dodge a few stones and send one flying right in Shang's direction. Thank goodness for his quick reflexes, that stone did no harm to him. When Mulan sheepishly peeked from underneath her bucket hat, the stone just rolled to the ground after bouncing off Chien-Po's shock-absorbent belly.
Shang ran his palm over his face, perhaps wondering whether he would ever see the warrior in the young Fa Ping.
Mulan really thought that the descent would be more bearable than her journey up. They set off, and things were fine at first. However halfway through, Shang ordered the men to pack double loads in both their packs. Now she could really feel the weight pulling her down.
She tried to ignore the visceral pain shooting through her back where the staff rested and concentrated on the road in front of her. But eventually, exhaustion overtook her senses and she started losing balance. She began to feel dizzy again, but this time her pride prevented her from asking for help.
Eventually, when the strain became too much, she fell right in her tracks, this time with her consciousness still intact. Unfortunately, Ling and Chien-Po were nowhere to be seen and obviously were focused too much on carrying their own load to notice she had hit the earth with a heavy thud, but someone else did.
Mulan noticed an imposing shadow of a figure looming over her. When she looked up, she was greeted by Shang's displeased countenance which clearly spelt out how disappointed he was. He mutely picked up her staff together with her packs before she could verbalize anything.
She breathed out an air of remorse from her chest, watching Shang mount her load on his shoulders and jog swiftly to join the rest. Slowly she struggled to her feet and willed herself to follow the rest. Her muscles still ached badly, but it was nothing compared to her bruised pride.
Mulan tried not to cry as she reclaimed the distance between her and the rest of the men. Not once, but twice―she had failed. She purposely lagged slightly behind, keeping herself unnoticed to avoid questioning stares from the rest as to why she was walking without her packs.
A few long, agonizing minutes passed as Shang led the recruits through the treacherous landscape. Everyone was silent with just the sounds of heavy footsteps and rapid breathing accompanying them.
Mulan tried to remain unseen, alas, her stomach seemed to rebel against her idea to remain incognito and threw up its almost non-existent content noisily. She didn't hear the panicked rush of footsteps so, when she felt Shang's hand on her back, Mulan jumped, startled by his appearance, before groaning as her stomach heaved again. His hand was stroking her back in soothing repetitiveness.
"I think you are ill," Shang announced with his usual stoic tone but somewhere in his expression was worry while handing her a cup of water. Mulan frantically sipped it, fighting back the pit of exhaustion she felt prickling under her skin. Her armour was beginning to feel constrictive and uncomfortable next to her skin. She shifted restlessly. Her sleep was all messed up due to these long nights this last week and it was just like her to get sick when she was overexerted and tired.
"Ping, you are dismissed for the day. Have a rest and if you don't feel any better, please inform me or Chi-Fu."
Mulan nodded weakly, finding she had no energy to even argue when a few of her teammates began mimicking similar excuses in order to be relinquished from the training.
The training ended late in the evening.
She was reading inside the tent when suddenly she felt something alien stir in her belly, rising the content of her stomach on the edge of her throat. And the musky odour of a bunch of sweaty men in the badly ventilated tent didn't help one bit. She swallowed back her nausea and focused on the scroll in her hand, but her stomach hated her for it. Without warning, a strong projectile launched from her throat with a vengeance, throwing the content of her dinner and whatever was left from the lunch before. Thankfully she had anticipated that and moved away from the crowds.
She felt better after Chi-Fu gave her a portion of his medicinal herbal tea from his private stock, albeit begrudgingly. But even when her muscles begged for mercy and the blisters on her soles burned from too much walking, sleep didn't come easily to her.
Resolving not to disturb Ling and Chien-Po from their rest, she went out to get some air. She knew just the friend to who she could pour out all her trouble.
"Hi boy," Mulan said, stepping into the makeshift stable and patting his horse muzzle. "Are you sick of being cooped up in here? I'm sorry I haven't got a chance to take you out for a walk," she said regretfully. Shang's silent dismissal as he grabbed her packs still danced around her vision. It felt like a poisoned arrow was just pierced through her heart. Unwilling tears fell from her eyes, which she quickly wiped away.
The horse replied to her with a soft, understanding neigh, lowering his head as Mulan rubbed his mane affectionately. She must've sounded so tired and defeated to make Khan regard her with eyes full of sympathy.
"I miss home," she admitted. A vivid recollection of her father's aged face, her grandma's laughter, and Ping's innocent grin painted in her mind. It was such a contrast to the brutal drill, the mocking men and the sneering Emperor counsellor she had to face on a daily basis. But it was the thought of Shang's contemptuous countenance that reduced her to tears. She was desperate to earn his approval, his respect… his love ―because she knew he would never accept her as his equal.
….let alone as his perfect bride. The thought made her heart ached even more.
Shao Wei lazily dragged himself out of his tent. He had been postponing the task of taking his horse for a walk. Alas, because everyone else was training in the nearby mountain the whole day, no one was available to offer him a reprieve.
He could've done this earlier in the day when the sun was still shining, and he could bask in the warmth, absorbing the beauty of the landscape rather than prowling in the cold, dark night with nothing to see.
Okay, yeah, he shouldn't procrastinate any longer. Pulling his cloak closer to block out the cold, late-autumn wind, he made his way into the stable. It was then he realized that he wasn't alone. Another two-legged figure was present inside the stable. The distinct pixie-cut build and slightly effeminate movements helped Shao Wei to identify the identity of his subject.
Fa Ping.
Shao Wei sank closer to the nearby wall to avoid being noticed and watched the interaction closely. He saw the black steed lean his face closer as though offering his master whatever silent consolation he could.
"I know I need to hang in there. Failing training is not an option. It's the only way to prevent Baba from going to the battlefront and Ping from becoming an orphan." He heard her tell the beast.
It took a few seconds for Shao Wei to let the information coalesce in his mind and, after stitching all the facts together, finally the revelation struck him. Fa Ping was none other than Fa Mulan. A daughter with boundless love for her family who had decided to face the unknown to preserve her father's life and ensure her brother's future.
He'd seen the way her face had fallen when Shang sent her away that evening. For the first time, he'd seen her as more than just a shy, clueless and awkward man in disguise. He'd seen a daughter―who was wounded that her captain had flagged her as a failure and was disappointed that she had let her family down again. Also, the fact that Shang was her husband, having him reject her in the regiment couldn't be any more hurtful. It made Shao wonder what sort of damage had been done to her with this whole arrangement. It was hard to pinpoint whose indiscretions had brought on her predicament.
A few minutes later, Mulan and Khan veered away from the footpath along the river, galloping to her secret spot where no one came. (And she was thankful Mushu was sensible enough to leave her alone).
Mist enveloped the sky, making the moon look beautiful in its flaws, perfectly round and casting a slight glow upon everything it touched. The spot was hidden behind trees, bathed in moonlight and the grass was so thick it cushioned every step. The smell of leaves and raw nature was making her feel better. The noise in the training encampment was distant and quickly drowned out by the sound of Khan's rhythmic pounding.
Mulan halted Khan when she saw the wide, green expanse stretch out in front of them, tranquil and inviting. Mulan inhaled deeply as she enjoyed the picturesque surrounding. She dismounted from Khan and guided him to the pasture.
"Here boy, you may eat as you please," she said, smiling as she removed Khan's reins. Khan neighed happily before ducking his head and gobbling up the fresh grass. It must've tasted better than the usual dry hay and dry oats he had every day.
Meanwhile, Mulan deposited herself near the lake, watching its calm surface mirror a nearly perfect image of the snowy mountain ridges that seemed to expand infinitely into the distance. She closed her eyes, letting the noise of small crickets ensconce her senses. This was her peaceful place, away from all the chaos of her life.
Why Shao Wei wanted to drink the water from the brook at this unholy hour was a mystery to Shang. But Shang, being the subservient soldier that he'd always been, didn't question the absurdity of Shao Wei's strange request. Besides, the letter from his father a couple of days ago had raised his suspicions about Shao Wei and his possible involvement in serious treachery against the Emperor.
His speculation made perfect sense if anyone recalled that Shao Wei's father, Prince Wei Zhang, was the second in line to the throne after the Emperor. While Wei Zhang may be a little too old to plan a military coup, it wouldn't stop him from influencing and conspiring with his oldest son in doing so.
At the entrance of the stable, Shang caught a glimpse of his white stallion. "Hi Qing, I know it's late… but I need your favour," Shang told the horse.
Qing merely nickered, the low rumble from his throat indicating he was happy to see Shang whatever the reason. Shang raked his hand through the horse's mane and smiled. "Sorry to trouble you. But this is the Prince's order."
Before long, Qing galloped into the woods heading towards the clearing where Shao Wei had told him to go.
That was when he saw a flash of movement of what appeared to be a person lounging beneath a tree. His first instinct was to hide and he carefully prowled closer to check whether it was a spy for the Hun's army. But as soon as the silhouette stood up, Shang dropped his stance. It looked like a boy, and he was certain no Huns' guerilla was that petite.
Something in his brain clicked: it was Fa Ping.
And the boy wasn't lounging, he was reading something on his lap. Because, a minute later the boy stood in his battle stance, throwing empty punches and kicks at the nearby tree.
He is reading a practice scroll, Shang thought.
As he moved closer to the young boy, he gave no indication that he had noticed his approach. Shang berated Ping's lack of vigilance and surveillance considering the Hun army could roam through the area and ambush at any given time. Worse still, they could kidnap him to be tortured for information.
Fa Ping. Shang shook his head as he cited the boy's name. Fa Ping came in for training; with his impertinence, and his smart-ass attitude; causing trouble just by breathing. But as the training days ticked by, Fa Ping was proving there was much more to him than his unseeming appearance. He might be smallish, lanky and have none of the muscle density expected of a soldier, but his perseverance and tenacity were indescribable.
In correlation to that, Shang remembered how similar Ping was to his wife, Mulan, who was the opposite polarity to the traditional expectation of a wife―rebellious and stubborn. Perhaps this had something to do with the Fa genes, and somewhere in his brain he incongruously hoped that the kid had something more in him than just clumsiness.
"I didn't know you had a secret hideout," he said, repressing the natural touch of steel in his voice and trying to be casual.
"Cap...Captain Li!"
When the boy was close enough, Shang noticed his puffy eyes. Fa Ping had been crying. Even when he knew harshness was important to ingrain discipline, something deep inside him felt inexplicably tormented to know he was the cause of this pain. He must make amend!
"It's Brother Li outside training time. Would you like to accompany me running through some quick drills?"
Even from the dimmed light of the moon, Mulan could see his sincere smile, she felt her body relax. Shang wasn't here to punish her.
Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she threw her right fist at the tree and then her left before Shang came around behind her and put his hands on her waist, causing her to pause as the air seemed to leave her in a whoosh.
"Keep your hips squared," he commented softly, turning her slightly and she nodded mutely as all of her focus went straight to the warmth spreading across her skin from where his hands were. "And keep your wrists straight so you don't jam them."
"Okay," she managed to get out and he lingered for a fraction of a second longer before dropping his hands and taking a step to the side. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him flex his hands before balling them into fists at his sides.
She took his instruction and threw some more punches that landed more solidly, even though she doubted it would inflict any real damage to someone, it was enough to cause the corners of her mouth to flick upwards in satisfaction. This would definitely come in handy when the situation required it.
"Yes, like that," he remarked and she could hear the pride lacing his voice. Or was she imagining it? Nevermind. A little positivity wouldn't hurt.
Biting her lip to keep her smile from growing into an obnoxiously wide grin, she refocused on the cadence of her hits.
"What are you doing at this time of night, Ping? Aren't you supposed to be resting?"
Mulan stayed quiet. She didn't want Shang's pity. His job here wasn't to look after his little, helpless brother-in-law. His job here was to hone and train her into a formidable weapon on the battlefield.
Sensing Ping wasn't going to speak to him, Shang prodded further. "Are you mad at me?"
"I…I'm sorry Brother Li, I am just… a little homesick." There was a half-truth in that.
"Is this your first time away from home?" he asked, taking the liberty to sit next to him and reclining there, loosening his sash and rolling his robe sleeves up.
"Yes, Si… I mean, Brother Li. My mother just passed away a few months ago, and I've come here unprepared. I know I am still young, weak and unskillful, but I…―"
"I understand," he said gently. And there was again, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips. Mulan could feel her own lips reciprocating the notion.
"I remember your mother, she was wise, poised and beautiful. Just like your sister." He said the words with a matter-of-fact tone; one that you might use to state that blood was red and the sky was blue, but his earnest honesty sent a fluttery feeling rippling through her.
Mulan could feel the tip of her toes tingling with happiness. Does Shang think she was beautiful? But the voice of her rationale pushed back the sudden outburst of giddiness. For goodness sake, Mulan, he was just trying to be diplomatic! Duh!
Shang let out another rare smile, perfectly unaware that his unconscious grace and the power of his words just unleashed an onslaught of conflicting emotions inside her chest.
"Where the hell is she?!"
"Shhh….Calm down, Ling!" Chien-Po nearly slapped his meaty palm across Ling's mouth to silence his furious tirade over their missing comrade. His venture to the toilet had been abandoned when he realized Mulan was missing. By the clean arrangement of her bed it was obvious she hadn't touched it, let alone slept on it, and it was well past midnight.
"Chien-Po, the Huns may have kidnapped her!" That is plausible, right?
"But… but why?" Chien-Po didn't seem to understand Ling's logic. "Why would a pixie-cut soldier with a feminine stature be an item of interest to a Hun soldier anyway?"
Ling shrugged and threw his arms up in frustration. "Hell, I don't know! I just… I just…―"
"Look, we'll find her," Chien-Po resolved quickly, trying to calm his friend who was hyperventilating like a fish out of water. "Now please, just calm down… because someone may hear your…―"
"She is heading towards the clearing south of the forest," a voice stage whispered from a nearby tent entrance.
"Your Highness!" Both men fell to their knees.
"Don't worry. I've sent Captain Li to make sure she is fine," Shao Wei told them.
She! Did he say 'she'? Ling was about to point out the wrong gender the Prince had applied to Ping's name, but Chien-Po's question deflected his intention. "What are they doing this late at night?"
"Who knows," Shao Wei replied with a mischievous grin. Ling swore the Prince knew something they didn't―because there was a hint of sexual innuendo in the way he was smirking at them.
"Training perhaps?"
At the point of rendezvous, Shao Wei had directed them to, Ling and Chien-Po exchanged a look as Captain Li and Ping gravitated towards each other. Accepting a man's offer for training may not be the most efficient method to 'lure and conquer' a man's heart, but it seemed to work like magic in Captain Li's case.
"So, this is what the Prince of Wei categorizes as training?" Ling said, disbelieving what he witnessed. Even from the reasonable distance where they stood, Ling could easily tell how flustered Mulan was when Captain Li touched her arms to correct her stance. No wonder she hasn't learned anything yet!
"Don't you think Mulan is a little bit more than charmed by our Captain?" Chien-Po prompted without shifting his eyes.
"I'd say she is completely whipped!" Ling said with wonderment. Seeing his tomboyish, opinionated friend so bewitched by a man was a rare sight. "I'll tease her tomorrow," he grinned, rubbing his palm together.
"Alas, she is married," Chien-Po piped in.
From years of their friendship, Ling had learned that Mulan was many things, but disloyal was not one of them. And Mulan had never come across as a temptress or seductress either. She would be the last person on earth that he could imagine capable of having an extramarital affair. Thus, her interaction with Captain Li was completely out of character. He felt like he was missing some vital information here.
"Do you think she'll be okay?" Chien-Po asked as he glanced in Mulan's direction, watching Shang easily dodge her uncoordinated punches.
"I don't think she will improve. Especially when she hasn't stopped staring at him like a beguile maiden staring at the hot, bare-chested man."
"She is a maiden looking at the hot, bare-chested man. And the bare-chested man is touching her."
But there was no denying the look in her eyes, Ling could immediately tell that it wasn't exactly a platonic look. There was quite a reasonable dose of genuine affection. Having a harmless crush on an incredibly attractive man was one thing, but falling madly in love with a man that was never going to look at her in the same way…
Well, that was just reckless.
"I think we need to warn her."
"Ah, the beauty is finally waking up I see." Mulan squinted her eyes, directly towards the source of the voice while her hands tried to shield herself from the violent tickling that had disturbed her ever-so-short-slumber. "I believe you owe us a big explanation," Ling said, crossing his arms and giving her a chance to recollect her thoughts. "Consider me generous that I'm just tickling you when I am perfectly capable of pouring a bucket of cold water over you instead."
"What do you mean?" Mulan asked, rubbing her bleary eyes to restore her foggy vision.
Ling scoffed, feeling slightly betrayed that his best friend had chosen to keep a secret from him. "I believe you were spending the night with…―"
Suddenly, a familiar, unpleasant sensation stirred her stomach and Mulan raised her hand to stall her friend, dashing out of the tent in a hurry. She heard their rapid footfalls approaching as she retched and heaved convulsively.
"You seriously need to see a doctor," Ling pointed out, completely forgetting about the subject he had wanted to broach earlier.
"I have no time for that," Mulan replied, wiping her mouth with her sleeve ungracefully.
"Forget about the real battle. How can you train like this? And what if it gets worse?"
"What if you are dying?!"
"Thanks, Chien-Po," Ling gave the rotund man a look.
"It won't. I'll manage," Mulan dismissed Ling's rhetoric stubbornly.
Suddenly, something dawned upon Chien-Po and he interjected, a look of unease on his face. "Mulan…" he said, pulling her robe sleeve so she was only a few inches away from him. Mulan was about to rebuke him for calling her by her maiden name when he continued, "Have you… have you missed something this month?" he whispered gingerly.
"Missed something? Like what?" Mulan stared at her friend who chewed his lower lip anxiously. She really didn't like the fearful look on his face.
Chien-Po gesticulated vaguely to his abdomen. "You know…" he trailed off. "Su told me about this thing women have, and the early symptoms of…―"
"Oh dear ancestor," Ling cut him off and sucked in air sharply.
"Are you suggesting that she may be… pregnant?"