(Dedicated to Tiffany, aka Artisticmaster, for the Bittersweet and Strange 2008 Valentine's Day exchange. It's my first attempt at writing a Mulan story! I did some research: there is no direct equivalent in China for Valentine's Day, but there is a similar festival called the "Night of Sevens" or Qi Qiao Jie. Hope you enjoy it!)
PART I
"You lose again, Dishi," said Mulan as she moved her War Elephant into checkmate position. "You should have seen that coming."
Her opponent, a boy with deep-set, kind eyes, scowled. "Can't we do best four out of seven?" he protested. His general was surrounded by her pieces.
"It was your idea to play elephant chess. There's not much else to do inside."
She was right, as usual. No one who could avoid the blistering summer heat was outdoors this time of day. Even in the shade of the Kun family courtyard, they were both sweating.
"Come on, then, let's take a break and go get some water," Mulan offered.
The town well was just about the only spot that hadn't dried up. As Mulan and Dishi made their way outside, a tiny cloud of dust rose at each footfall. A couple of chickens scratched in vain at the dry ground.
"How's your father coping with the drought?" she asked her friend.
"Not well." Dishi was normally reserved, and even more so when he was worried. His family had always been rice farmers, and the long dry spell had been devastating for them. Dishi, at twelve, was too young to do more than a few odd jobs. His father and his older brother, Kun Jian, had to take whatever work they could find.
"Chin up. The rain can't stay away forever, can it?"
"Try telling that to my father."
They walked side by side, not saying anything. The center of town was almost deserted. A couple of well-dressed girls about their age strolled toward them, each holding a parasol.
"Oh, look, it's Fa Mulan and her boyfriend," sneered Huang So, the taller of the two. Mei Xiao, her companion, snorted.
Mulan was well used to their nonsense. "I don't see either of you with a boyfriend," she shot back.
The girls tittered. "We're not supposed to have boyfriends, stupid. The matchmaker will find us proper husbands when the time is right," said Xiao.
"And we won't end up with a skinny little rat like him for a husband," added So.
Dishi hadn't said a word, but he finally spoke up. "I'm not a Rat, I was born in the year of the Boar." He blushed furiously.
"A skinny little boar, then. Well, that's much better, isn't it?" Xiao and So fell to the ground laughing at their own joke.
"Leave him alone," Mulan growled, suddenly furious.
"Mulan, don't. It's okay," whispered Dishi. He'd seen her like this before.
"Oooh, I'm so frightened. A boar and…a stork are gonna get me!" howled So.
"You're gonna pay for that one…"
"Is there a problem?" A calm, deep voice made all four children look up. It was Dishi's seventeen-year-old brother, Kun Jian. He was covered in sweat, his wet black hair plastered to his head. He pulled a heavy cartload of wood behind him.
So and Xiao looked up at him with their most innocent faces. He may have been just a farmer's son, but Jian's striking features and powerful build had most of the girls in town pining for him.
"None whatsoever, Jian," said Xiao, pulling out a fan and covering her face.
"We were just talking about what an…adorable, sweet brother you have," So added.
"Well, he may be, but he's supposed to be working right now," said Jian severely. "Dishi, back home. Father said to clean the chicken cages today, so no more slacking off."
"Can I at least say goodbye to Mulan?"
Jian nodded, then set off once more with his cartload. Xiao and So trailed after him like ducklings after their mother.
"Sorry," Dishi said after a moment.
"For what?" Mulan dipped the wooden ladle into the water bucket and offered it to him. "Those idiot girls are the ones who started it."
He sighed. "Sorry that I'm such a wimp, that I never stand up for myself."
She smiled and punched him playfully on the arm. "You're not a wimp. You're just not a stupid, boring ox like your brother. And you don't want to play Soldiers and Huns all the time like all the other boys. It's probably why you're my friend."
"Actually, my brother was born in a Horse year…"
They laughed; it was one of their private jokes. "Mulan, I really have to go, or I'll get in trouble. Do you want to do best four out of seven tomorrow?" he asked.
"You're on. I'll be sure and ask for rain for your family," said Mulan. "You should ask your ancestors for better luck next time we play."
"'Bye, then."
"See you, Dishi."
She drank a ladleful of water herself, then made her way home. Dishi wasn't the only one skiving off responsibility, after all.
"Mulan! Mulan, is that you?"
"Father! You're back!"
It really wasn't that much of a surprise. Fa Zhou's horse, Khan, was tethered in the courtyard, and had given it away. But having her father home on leave was always a cause for celebration. Mulan threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"I've really missed you," she said as he returned her embrace. "Do you have some stories for me?"
He laughed. "That I do. And I have something else. Hold out your hands."
She did, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she held a finely carved wooden amulet in the shape of a magpie. "It's beautiful. You got this just for me?"
"My lieutenant Bao T'ien made it. He said it's very good luck."
Maybe I should give it to Dishi. His family needs good luck more than we do, thought Mulan.
"Ahem." Behind her father stood Fa Li, her mother. Normally serene, she now wore an exasperated expression. "Mulan, haven't you forgotten something important today?"
"Oh," Mulan looked down, chagrined. She knew she was in for a lecture. "I did forget to clean up after breakfast, and…"
"You know perfectly well what I mean," said Fa Li impatiently. "You're supposed to be practicing your embroidery so you can give a proper offering to our ancestors tomorrow."
Fa Zhou tried not to chuckle. His daughter could be a handful. "You should listen to your mother, Mulan. It is important that you at least try and learn," he said.
"If I were dead, I'd rather get a carved watermelon as an offering than some fancy colored threads," muttered Granny Fa as she shuffled in. "She's hopeless at embroidery. So was I at that age. And I never got much better."
"That's why she has to practice." Fa Li was adamant. "Just what were you doing all day, anyhow, young lady?"
"Um…well, first I fed the chickens, prepared the rice for lunch, swept the floors…"
"Anything else?" Her mother raised an eyebrow.
"And, I did play a few games of elephant chess…"
"By yourself?"
She knew better than to lie, especially with her father present. "No, Mama. It was Kun Dishi and I."
"Oh, Mulan. We've had this discussion before. You should't spend time with that boy. He's a bad influence," said her father.
"But he's my friend," Mulan protested. "None of the other kids my age even know how to play chess. He's actually nice to me. What's so bad about him, anyway?"
Fa Li made a strange sound, somewhere between a hoarse cry and a sob, and hurried from the room. Granny hurried after her as quickly as she could.
"Mulan, go to your room."
"But, Father…"
"Just go, and stop arguing!"
Frustrated, and shocked at his sudden temper, she sprinted past him towards her room.
Fa Zhou let out a long sigh. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a pane of glass. There were more grey hairs than ever on his head, and he was sure that not all of them came from the stress of being a soldier.
"Let's see…chrysanthemum, or peony?" Mulan looked down at her embroidery hoop in despair. "It just looks like a big yellow blob to me. Don't you think?"
Poppy Seed, the family calico, yawned in response. It's not even good enough to impress the cat. How is it going to impress the ancestors?
"Oh, well, I guess a little practice couldn't hurt." After all, she was grounded. There wasn't anything else to do. She plucked at the worst of the damage with her needle. "Maybe if I practiced on something I can actually see." The cat stretched herself out on the floor. "Do you mind sticking around for a while?"
A meow. Maybe that meant "yes."
"All right, then…I'll need some black thread, and maybe a little of that light brown. And some pink for your nose. Cats are just as much good luck as flowers, right?"
Another meow.
"A lot of help you are." Mulan began to pull out the golden threads that were her first attempt at a bunch of chrysanthemums.
"I see you've inherited your grandmother's talent for embroidery."
Her father stood in the doorway. How long he'd been there, she didn't know. His voice was much softer now.
"I'm sorry about earlier, Father. I didn't mean to upset you," said Mulan.
He sat next to her on her bed, and Poppy Seed rubbed up against his legs. "I know you and Kun Dishi have become friends. I have to ask you again to stop seeing him."
"But Father, why? He's just a rice farmer's son!"
"I don't want to bring further dishonor upon our family. You're too young to understand…" He trailed off, seeing his daughter's brows furrow. She looked just like her grandmother when she did that.
"Can't you at least tell me?" And she was just as persistent.
"I suppose I should tell you. You didn't upset me earlier; you upset your mother. Years ago, she was in love with a man called Kun Quon. I believe he is the uncle of your friend Dishi. But the matchmaker, and her father, had picked someone else for her to marry."
"You?"
Fa Zhou nodded. "I barely knew your mother then. I had seen her many times in town, of course, and admired her from afar. I'd never thought that the daughter of Ming Yan would be betrothed to me, a soldier's son. She was so headstrong, much like you. And Kun Quon was a vagabond with no prospects in sight. In the end, she could only marry one."
"But she married you, Father. Didn't she?" Mulan was leaning forward, eager to hear the rest of the story. Even the cat seemed to be listening intently.
"Of course. But Kun Quon would not give in so easily! On the Night of the Sevens, the festival of true love, he pleaded with her father to change his mind. He swore that he could take care of your mother, provide for her, and be an honorable husband. And it seemed that he was willing to agree."
"But what happened to him?" asked Mulan. "How did he dishonor our family if they never married?"
"Plans were made for a wedding, and the bride-to-be had never been happier. But there was never a ceremony. Kun Quon, in the end, was a coward. He jilted her, humiliated her in front of her family. No one knows what became of him," he said softly.
Mulan and her father shared a long look. "Is that why Mama always cries on the Night of the Sevens?" Her own eyes brimmed with tears.
"Yes. And it's probably best if you don't mention it to her."
"I promise I won't," said Mulan.
"I also have to ask you to stop seeing Kun Dishi. I know it is hard for you," her father said, looking at her knowingly, "but you must obey our wishes. Do you understand?"
Mulan nodded. But a plan was already taking shape in her mind. "Father, may I ask you just one thing?"
"Of course."
"Do I have to finish this embroidery? Can't I just offer the ancestors a watermelon instead?"
Fa Zhou laughed out loud. "If you finish your offering, I'll give you some money to buy a melon tomorrow. You can work hard and finish by tomorrow. It will make your mother proud of you," he added.
"And do I have to stay in my room?" asked Mulan.
"I'll bring you some rice and tea. That way you can finish without interruption." They embraced. "Sometimes you're a puzzle to me, Mulan, but I'm so honored that you're my daughter." Fa Zhou rose from the bed, and Poppy Seed scurried away. "Work hard, and make us proud. I'll see you in the morning."
Mulan was thinking hard, and barely noticed when he returned with a tray of supper. She pulled at the yellow threads with a new sense of purpose.
The next morning, Mulan woke before everyone else, even the cranky old rooster. She quickly dressed, tidied her room, and gulped down a little of the cold rice from last night. Today was the Festival of the Sevens, and with all she had to do, she needed an early start.
Her embroidered offering, a cat's face with some tiny flowers around it, wasn't perfect, but it was an improvement over the chrysanthemums. She set it aside for later that night. Her father, true to his word, had left her a few coins to buy a watermelon. Carving melons was something she actually did well.
I've got to talk to Dishi, somehow, without Father knowing.
Khan, her father's horse, was outside in his paddock. Mulan bridled and led him out. She'd need him where she was going today; it was too far to walk.
She scribbled a note to her parents and grandmother so they wouldn't worry, and left it on the family table. It was time to go. The sun was barely over the horizon, and mist still hung in the air. That was a good sign. Maybe it meant rain was on the way.
More than a few people were already up, trying to get work done before the heat became unbearable. Mulan prayed Dishi would be somewhere close. As a farmer's son, he usually got an early start too.
As luck would have it, he was just leaving his family's courtyard with several caged roosters. "Mulan! What are you doing up this early?" he said, seeing her with Khan. "Is that your father's horse? I didn't know he was back already."
"Hi, Dishi. I don't have much time to talk. I'll explain later," she said, glancing around nervously. "I really need to ask you something. You mentioned your uncle Quon to me once. Didn't you say he lives around here?"
Dishi's face became solemn. "He's a monk. Father says he lives at the Monastery of the Lotus Bloom, you know, outside town. But we don't really ever talk about him. Why?"
She could hardly believe her good luck. "Do you know where that is?" she asked.
"Well, it's a few leagues due east, in the hills. Why are you asking me all these questions about my uncle?" He looked at Mulan with suspicion.
"Because I'm going to the monastery. Like I said, I'll explain later," she said, nimbly swinging up on Khan's back.
"No, you're not," said Dishi stubbornly.
"Yes, I am, Dishi. I have to."
He dropped the chicken cages. "You can't. Girls aren't allowed in the monastery."
Mulan's heart sank. She hadn't thought about that at all. What am I going to do now?
Dishi, in his peasant tunic and pants, stood there staring at her. "All right, Miss Smart Girl, so much for your silly plan. You want to help me with these chickens?"
But another idea was quickly forming in her head. "I can. But I have to ask you a favor first. Do you have a spare set of clothes?"
The Monastery of the Lotus Bloom was by far the largest building Mulan had ever seen. In its long morning shadow, she felt more nervous at every step Khan took. It was a crazy idea to begin with, and she doubted it would work. There's no way those monks are going to let me in.
She'd traded her clothes for an old tunic and pants of Dishi's. He'd helped her tie her long black hair into a topknot. Her pretty, unblemished skin might have given her away, but she'd rubbed dirt all over to complete her disguise. A wide-brimmed farmer's hat sat on her head. Now she looked like an ordinary peasant's son, and not a respectable soldier's daughter. Kind of.
"Khan, stay here, all right?" Mulan whispered to the big horse. He snorted and dropped his head into a water trough.
Am I supposed to knock? An imposing pair of double doors stood before her. But there was an ornamental ring in the shape of a phoenix, and she tapped it twice. A man in the rough orange robes of a monk appeared a moment later.
"Uh…" Mulan hesitated, not quite knowing what to say. "I'd like to see Brother, er, Quon, please." She looked down immediately.
"May I ask your name?" the monk asked her.
She hadn't thought about that either. "Kun…Wang. I'm a relative." Hopefully Kun Quon had a lot of relatives. "I need to speak to him alone."
He hesitated for just a moment, and Mulan thought he knew. But he merely bowed. "I'll announce you. Wait here, please."
The next few minutes felt like an hour. She tried to rehearse what she wanted to say. It all seemed so stupid now. Then the monk returned.
"Come with me."
She followed him through a seemingly endless maze of corridors. There were so many questions she wanted to ask about this forbidden place, but she kept silent. Monks were all around, at prayer, at work, and in one case, pulling at the bridle of a stubborn donkey in an open courtyard. None of them really gave her a second look. Maybe it would work, after all.
They came to a door, and the monk knocked. "Brother Quon?"
"Yes?" came his voice.
"Young Kun Wang is here to see you."
"Send him in." Mulan's host bowed, and left her alone. Her heart was galloping in her chest. She pushed the door open.
Kun Quon's room was larger than she expected a monk's to be, but it was simply furnished: a pallet, a small table, and a few personal items. A small statue of the Buddha smiled at her.
"To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" Brother Quon asked. He was her father's age, bald like all the other monks, but still handsome. He had probably been striking when he was younger. It wasn't until he stood right in front of her that Mulan realized his eyes were open, but streaked with milky white. He was blind.