Author's note: Báijiǔ(pronounced bye-joe) is a traditional Chinese spirit, similar to vodka in taste and mouthfeel. It is most commonly made from distilled sorghum, though it can also be made from millet, barley, wheat or glutinous rice, depending on the region. I love the friendship portrayed between Yao, Ling, Chien-Po, and Mulan and wanted to give them a night to cut loose and enjoy each other's company before it all went to hell. :)

Mulan awoke to loud whispers and snickering outside her tent. She panicked. Was it morning already? Had she overslept? But it was still full dark; she must have only fallen asleep an hour or two before. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw Mushu and Crickee snoozing in the corner. Mushu was snoring softly, tendrils of smoke wafting up from his nostrils as he exhaled.

"Psst! Ping!"

"C'mon Ping, we know you're in there!"

"We can hear you breathing!"

Mulan pulled on the loose tunic she normally trained in and yanked aside the tent flap. It was those three, their faces shining excitedly in the moonlight.

Mulan didn't know what to make of them. They had made her life a living hell her first few weeks of training, their unpleasantness second only to Captain Li's, but at least it was the Captain's job to harass and humiliate her. Ling and Yao were just assholes. But now, ever since Mulan had retrieved Captain Li's arrow several days ago, something between them had changed. It was as if she had proven herself to them, worthy of their friendship and respect.

"What is it?" Her heart dropped. "The Huns?"

Chien-Po smiled widely, quite unlike the tranquil smile she had come to expect from him, and Ling snickered. Yao, who had been hiding his hands behind his back, held out his prize, grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream. Mulan recognized the green bottle in his fist as báijiǔ - her father kept a bottle that he brought out on special occasions. The tension in her chest eased, and she reached for it, but Yao pulled it away.

"Uh-unh," he said. "Come on."

Mulan hesitated. It was dangerous, getting too close to these men, when her secret could be discovered at any moment. At the same time, she felt a curious longing in her chest, just next to her heart - she had never experienced friendship quite like this, and she yearned for it. "Okay," she said, and followed him out of her tent.

Ling threw an arm around her shoulder as they walked. Mulan stiffened, but he didn't seem to notice. "We're sorry we were such jerks to you before," he said, examining his nails, torn and dirty from training. "And we wanted to make it up to you. So I happened to be strolling by Chi-Fu's tent and noticed he had some báijiǔ he wasn't using."

Yao let out a bray of laughter, which he stifled by sticking his fist in his mouth, and Chien-Po chuckled, a breathy, stuttering sound. Mulan was startled to hear it.

"He may have wanted to use it later," Chien-Po said.

Ling shrugged. "Finders keepers," he quipped. Chien-Po was overcome with the giggles, and Yao and Ling joined in. Mulan couldn't help it; she laughed too. All three men stared at her, and she stopped laughing suddenly, her heart pounding.

Yao grinned. "You laugh like a girl, Ping!" And that set them off again. Mulan smiled, but the close call had her wondering if she should have just told them no when they came to her tent.

They stopped by the banks of the lake, kicking off their shoes and letting the cool waves roll over their weary feet. "Let's pop this puppy open," Yao said, gripping the protruding cork and yanking to no avail. Chien-Po calmly plucked the bottle from his grasp and popped out the cork. He held it up. "To our new friend, Ping, who used his inner strength and discipline to retrieve the arrow." Chien-Po poured a small amount into the four tea cups he had retrieved from the commissary.

"To Ping," Ling and Yao echoed, holding up their cups. Mulan was speechless as she matched their actions, and the four of them downed their liquor.

Mulan came up coughing and sputtering. She had tried báijiǔ only once before, sneaking a swig from the bottle in the pantry, and her father had caught her red-handed and green-faced. In his quiet, steady voice, Fa Zhou had explained to her both the dangers and the joys of alcohol, a lesson she had taken to heart. She hadn't had it since. It was not becoming for a young woman to drink anyway.

Yao pounded his chest with his fist. "That'll put hair on your chest, eh, Ping?" Mulan grimaced and nodded.

Ling made a gagging noise. Mulan was glad to see she wasn't the only one unused to spirits, though Chien-Po seemed as unaffected as Yao.

"Another?" Yao asked. In response they all held out their cups. Chien-Po refilled each with another splash of clear liquor.

The second drink went down easier than the first. Mulan was able to better appreciate the smooth sorghum liquor even as it burned a trail of fire down her throat. Her sneaked taste of her father's báijiǔ had been far harsher. No doubt Chi-Fu kept only the finest liquor - there were perks to being on the emperor's council. Mulan took the bottle from Chien-Po and studied it. This bottle had probably cost more than her family made in a year.

"We should probably slow down," cautioned Chien-Po. "Overindulgence makes fools of men."

Yao guffawed. "Oh, relax," he said. "Let us have our fun. We might die tomorrow."

That sobered them all by the truth of it. Mulan found herself clutching the bottle of báijiǔ and hurried to fill everyone's cup. She held hers up, pondering what to toast. She grinned suddenly, the same one she had given Captain Li when he'd caught her trying to cheat at archery.

"To Chi-Fu and his generosity," said Mulan, and they all giggled like school children who had pulled off some elaborate prank as they drank their poison down.

The moon had risen fully now, reflecting off the water as it lapped softly over the shore. Mulan's rear was damp from sitting on the ground, the humidity clung uncomfortably to her skin, and her training uniform stank to high heaven, but she didn't care. Mulan found it liberating to be here, dressed as a man, in the company of men, drinking alcohol with them like this was where she belonged. Whatever chance she'd had of ever being a proper young woman had been lost in the matchmaker's house. Mulan knew it could not last forever, and perhaps it was the báijiǔ starting to take effect, but for now, she was content.

Mulan realized she had been lost in thought and when she came back to the present, Ling and Yao were on their feet with their elbows hooked together, dancing and singing off-key. Chien-Po was clapping along.

"Come on, Ping; get up and dance with us!" Ling said, dragging her up by the arm. He and Yao linked arms with her and swung her around, laughing. They went around and around, cavorting in the way that the intoxicated do, until they had tired themselves out (which didn't take very long at all) and plopped down in the sand right where they were.

"Chien-Po, another!" called Ling, breathing hard. Chien-Po had barely filled his cup when he tossed it back like it was water and held it out for a refill.

"This stuff is way better than that watered-down tea the cook gives us in the mornings," Ling said. Against his better judgment, Chien-Po refilled his cup, but caught Ling's wrist to stop him from drinking it right away.

"Wait," he said, "Ping has something to say."

And indeed she did. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Maybe it was nerves, or the báijiǔ, or something else entirely, and if it weren't for the báijiǔ, Mulan never would have done it. But she had to know. She had to know if this was real.

"'If we are friends, bottoms up,'" she quoted softly, "'if not, just take a sip.'"

Mulan did not wait to see what they would do and downed her own in one gulp. When she looked up, all their cups were empty.