Bloopers (aka, behind the scenes of Mulan 2.1)

Shan Yu: Jian Shi…The soldier that made the mountain fall, that woman…

Jian Shi: I know her.

Shan Yu: She was hot, dude!

Jian Shi: That's not in the script!

…Yes it broke my brain too. Ow. Also, 'jian' and 'shi' are both Mandarin words for 'arrow' in this case.

~[:]~

The falcon swooped down over the corpse of the warlord, so close its flight feathers clipped his face.

"A---A--ATCHOO!"

"CUT! Let's try that again!"

~[:]~

~~[:///* MULAN 2.1 *\\\:]~~

Chapter Two

a heroic match

"I couldn't do a thing with her hair," sighed Fa Li, watching the steam rising from her teacup billow away from her breath. "It's so short! It's barely grown in a month. If you want to hide her ears you can't make a proper bun knot, and if you do the hair right her ears make her look so boyish."

Her husband fiddled with an incense stick. Would it be too pushy to light a fourth one in the temple? Would the ancestors frown upon him for that? "What name did she use again?"

"Ping." Li was unsure whether to be proud or disapproving of her daughter's exploits.

"Do we know a Ping?" asked Grandma Fa, tossing coins into the air and examining how they fell on the table. She hummed and turned her attention to the I Ching yarrow stalks.

"No, I don't know where she got the name. 'Flowerpot' is not very war-like." Zhou shook his head.

"At least she wasn't late today. She's been well-behaved since she came back." The woman smiled and sipped her tea.

"Restless, too!" snorted her mother-in-law. "Did you spot her kung fu-ing in the fields?" The fortune-telling sticks rattled down.

"Obedience; punctuality. Dexterity and discipline. Many important qualities are equally desirable in both a wife and a soldier," uttered Fa Zhou gravely.

His tiny mother flapped a hand at him. "Oh quit the quotations, and place your bets. I want Mulan to set fire to the Matchmaker again, any takers?"

"Grandma!" exclaimed Li, shocked. "A lady does not-"

"But a biddy does! Be honest, knowing how she did last time, winning the pot may be the only profit we get out of today!"

Silence fell. It may have pained them to admit it, but she was completely right.

~2.1~

Once again she was wearing the beautiful, flowing apparel of a potential bride, although it felt like a lifetime had passed since the last occasion.

Perhaps that was the truth.

Mulan progressed along the sandy street at a sedate pace, head held high, umbrella poised perfectly; every strand of hair perfect.

Perhaps that was a lie.

In fact, she only appeared calm, she crept towards her destination as each footstep shrank and shrank; she stared at the clouds in hopes of some godly being reaching down to whisk her away; she only kept her nervous grip on the umbrella since it could be used as a blunt weapon if the Matchmaker attempted to murder her – and her hair was not perfect at all. Having chosen to sacrifice the traditional and fashionable topknot for the sake of hiding her ears and not feeling like Ping-in-a-dress, the rest had been tied up in a short, thick, choppy ponytail. Personally, Mulan rather liked it, but that was little comfort when one so clearly didn't fit in with the entirety of the rest of China.

At least she wasn't late. The army had taught her, people who were late went on latrine duty. People who were really late had to guard Chi Fu.

She had learnt quickly after that.

Which was why, for the first time ever, she was early as she approached the forbidding double doors that hid the Matchmaker's opulent parlour. Which was why she had the fortune, good or bad, to meet the previous guests as they came tumbling out of the building.

"Come back when you get personalities!" screeched the harridan as she threw them into the street. "The Golden Dragon of Unity himself could not find matches for you three!" Then her beady stare fell upon her next customer, and two over-plucked brows arched over the heavy blue make-up of her eyes. "…Or you could try her," cackled the Matchmaker smugly; "she's as hopeless as you!"

Ling, Yao and Chien-Po swivelled round in unison and gaped at the new arrival. She had the porcelain face and ruby lips of all prospective brides, and well-proportioned features. They couldn't see anything wrong with her.

Then she waved a long, pink sleeve at them and smiled sheepishly. "Um, hey guys…"

"Aaaah!" screamed Ling in recognition, pointing at her like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Pi- Mulan??" said Yao, equally gobsmacked. Chien-Po moved forwards to give her a reunion hug, which she quickly dodged in order to save her dress. From a safe distance, she replied cheerfully.

"So, guys, how have you all been?"

Then the swollen shadow of the Matchmaker loomed behind her, writing board raised ominously. "Addresses loutish men in the street without invitation…"

Mulan's face fell, and without saying goodbye she proceeded to enter the dragon's lair in what she hoped was a suitably demure and elegant manner. They watched the doors slam shut, sealing her doom.

"Did you see- she looked like a girl!" stammered Ling.

~2.1~

The Dread Room of Judgement remained exactly as remembered. Draped in dark blue curtains. A highly polished low table as the central focus. Still containing an evil, obese, prowling monster that hated her guts. As far as could be seen, the only things that had changed in the place were a patch of newer-looking planks - where the coals from the miniature stove had scorched the floor – and the positioning of said brazier. It was now notably far away from the Matchmaker's seat cushion.

Mulan took a deep breath to calm herself, stood to attention as the examiner inspected her, and tried not to panic. She'd faced hordes of Huns and met the Emperor. She'd even survived a boot camp full of cack-handed newbie soldiers holding pointy weapons and misfiring rockets. Sadly it would take more than an expert karate chop to defeat this enemy. No. This would take elegance and style.

I don't think I can do this… she whimpered mentally, knowing from personal experience that the single most embarrassing moment of one's life could always get worse.

"Fa Mulan. How inauspicious that the hero of China cannot find herself a husband without my help," gloated the Matchmaker. She had been waiting for this revenge. Mulan's matchmaking debut had been a deep and abiding humiliation for both of them. "Or perhaps the soldier Fa Ping is looking for a wife today."

Shock, and the young girl couldn't hide it. She was trying to become a wife, not find one! Not to mention insulting a highly honoured war veteran was, to most of society, unthinkable. Far more than that; it was the attitude that disregarded her and her friends' effort and sacrifices, which sparked the slow burn of Mulan's fuse. Her hands bunched into fists, hidden beneath the fabric of her flowing sleeves. But she didn't hold onto the feeling long, for she was still ashamed of the disaster at their last meeting. The rudeness was unthinkable, yet still understandable.

"You know what to do," drawled the older woman. Mulan nodded and pulled out her fan, even if there were no 'notes' inked onto her arm this time round. And thank the ancestors, no bug in her mouth. The cricket had been left at home under pain of death if he followed her to the interview.

"Fulfil your duties calmly and respectfully." She recited the Final Admonition flawlessly, in the most cultured voice she could muster. "Reflect before you act." The concepts of chain-of-command, strategy and tit-for-tat were now simple to remember. "This shall bring you honour and glory."

"I see you can finally parrot a phrase of less than twenty words. How terribly impressive," sniffed the Matchmaker dryly. She wrote something on her board, and watched her client's reaction with close concentration.

Mulan clenched her jaw and glared hotly from behind her fan; knowing, insisting to herself that a retort would be low-taste and dishonourable. She needed this woman's good opinion.

And beneath the anger was the sad realisation that, despite saving her country from Shan Yu's army, she still was not good enough to be something as natural as a wife.

~2.1~

Outside, her trio of comrades were causing a rather unheroic disturbance. To cheer their flagging spirits in the arduous quest for wives, they had begun to sing their favourite marching song. However, this time with the one-too-many-drinks-round-the-campfire lyrics.

"For a long time we've been searching for a girlfriend," crooned the three in something like harmony.

"As the search goes on, I feel it never will end;" Yao followed, heaving a great sigh and slumping against a wall. The other two joined him. "Like a horoscope chart, our pounding hearts, aren't easy to ignore…" Though passers-by did try, by covering their ears and hurrying away.

The verse ended with Ling's usual optimism; "One, day I might get, a girl worth paying for~!"

But sadly the singing continued. He suddenly lunged into the empty square, falling to one knee with his arms outstretched. "I want her eyes to shine like coins, in love with her I'll fall;"

His warble was followed by Yao's rasp. "My girl will marvel at my might, when I'm in tavern brawls." He flexed his muscles and briefly managed to arm-wrestle Chien-Po before keeling over in pain, who continued unfazed until the resounding chorus.

"Mine will spice, my rice tonight, with soy and ginseng! Be worth five goats for how she cooks them!"

"Moo, goo, gai pan, mmmm!"

~2.1~

Inside the parlour, just the refrain was audible, caterwauled by her not-distant-enough friends.

"You can guess what we, have missed the most, since we came back from waaar!

What do we want? A girl worth paying fooooor!"

Silent until the noise ended, they sipped their dainty cups of tea whilst scanning each other for weak spots. "How is your singing?" asked the Matchmaker, sardonic.

Mulan stared sideways at the spot where floor met wall rather than meet the woman's patronizing expression. But only because curling up into a small mortified ball wasn't a subtle option.

"I can whistle," she answered. Half joking but mostly serious.

"Cooking?"

"Oh! I'm very good at outdoor cooking; I can catch, gut and grill fish and all sorts of other things."

"Those are very useful skills…" conceded the Matchmaker, placing her cup down gently.

"Really?!" blurted out her guest, delighted that something had gone right at last. She smiled widely.

"For a fisherman's wife!" the woman snapped, slamming her palm against the tabletop. The girl leapt back in alarm. "Or a merchant's! Is that all you can offer? You are now famous, infamous; whatever it is you are, and that makes you an example for all the people of China! Your performance so far makes you suitable for no respectable man – will you continue to show everyone such a shameful role model?"

As Mulan scrambled to her feet, tripping over hems and sashes that now felt foreign to her; the Matchmaker began to reel off a list of the young bride's negative attributes, standing up to circle her like a shark.

"Walks like a man, has a low gravelly voice," – Mulan swore under her breath: stress must have made her drop into the more bass tones of Bring-it-on! Ping earlier - "Posture is too forwards, frame unattractively muscular and, oh! Still too skinny for childbirth."

She tried to correct her poise, but it was only too obvious now that she had none to begin with. "You're exaggerating," laughed the girl, voice a soft squeak.

The Matchmaker's face darkened with disgust. "You're fooling no one but yourself." She turned away and pointed a disdainful hand behind her towards the doors.

"You may go now."

~2.1~

Exiting the scene of guaranteed embarrassment, Mulan folded her hands one on top the other and tilted her head down at a submissive angle, taking small steps. It was too little, too late. Behind her the one woman named 'scarier than an undertaker' slashed a streak of black ink across her wooden tablet and huffed good riddance. "I have never seen a less feminine client in my life!" sneered the Matchmaker, well aware that one of her previous customers was Yao.

The bride halted mid-stride. The warrior seethed.

"Of course," she said acidly, without turning round; "it must be impossible to see anyone worse than me with so many cracks in the mirror!"

A few feet away Yao whistled, impressed by her comeback.

"What did you say to me?!" shrieked her tormenter, and Mulan spun in a whirl of silks to advance menacingly. The prey became the predator in a single instant.

"Excuse me," she apologised sarcastically, rolling up her sleeves and raising her hand to her face. "Did I not demonstrate enough dignity?" She mimed drawing a goatee around her mouth, a mocking reminder to the middle-aged hag. "How's my refinement?"

The Matchmaker began to hiss like a firework, enraged; her eyes dagger-like.

"It's such a disgrace, my behaviour, isn't it?" continued Mulan. Pulling out her fan, she fluttered it delicately whilst standing in a pose that mimicked a giddy little girl. "If only I were more feminine…" The fan was snapped shut; she pointed it straight at her opponent and shouted her next words before slinging it away into the dirty street. "Then Shan Yu's army could have done everyone a favour and killed us all before we had to live lives dictated by the likes of you!"

She crossed her arms high across her chest and stood with legs akimbo in a power stance before delivering the final verbal blow. Despite being dressed and adorned as a blossom, her aura was that of a blade.

"How can you pretend to judge the qualities of a bride when you have absolutely none of them yourself?!" The dragon under her pale-painted skin uncoiled and roared the defiance of her spirit. "How dare you try to prescribe my value when you're full of nothing but spite; whereas I have battled to save my country and earned the respect of the emperor himself!"

As she spat at the woman's feet – and there was no hacking or waiting for the phlegm to fall off her lip this time, Yao had taught her one thing at least – and stalked away, the Matchmaker bristled with fury.

She returned fire without hesitation.

"You slouch like a lazy peasant, you were holding that fan wrong; your valiant 'boyfriends' disturb the peace with lewd, tone-deaf singing and you have just shown the entire village that you cannot hold your brutish temper." There was a reason this female was feared. It was because she was utterly without remorse. "Even your masculine characteristics are totally lacking in nobility! You may have received a single kowtow out of luck, but you have none of the high qualities required to earn a second bow!"

The Matchmaker's lungs heaved with firecracker anger.

"All eyes of the Middle Kingdom are now upon you, Fa Mulan, and what they see is…"

The word slithered out, poisonous as a snake.

"…an abomination."

It was almost okay. Almost tolerable, because Mulan felt justified albeit conscious of having gone too far.

She didn't feel shame until she realised that Shang was standing among her comrades, that Shang had witnessed every second of her childish outburst, and that Shang was staring at her with an expression of incredulity and revulsion.

After that, the shame was crushing.

~2.1~

By Alliriyan