Fa Zhou wasn't kidding when he warned about his daughter's unusual morning routine. The first thing Shang sees, after the bright morning sky, is a gaggle of chickens chasing a dog. He cautiously steps over the trail of grain.

Mulan was in the distance; feeding the horses in the stable. Ever since a boy, he always loved horses. They were wild and steady all-at-once. A strange paradox. And for a bizarre moment, he had a desire to go and help her.

"Shang, I'm pleased to see you out in the sunlight. I was beginning to think you were turning into a bat." Zhou leads him toward the stables, where Mulan was not quite finished.

"How are the horses, today?" Zhou asks.

"Eager to get out," she sighs, almost jealously.

Shang brushes his own steed's mane. He'd been neglecting him, for his father of course. But still... he felt a stab of guilt. He's been paired with the faithful creature for years.

"He's been happy with Khan, no nipping or anything," she quietly states, patting Khan. The two male horses, one black and one white, both had haughty personalities.

"Good." He side-eyes her black horse, and then glances one quick look at her. She sort of reminds him of a mare. Coltish and quick… maybe pretty… and…

"Let's go," Zhou announces. Mulan takes his cane, as she helps him mount the horse. She attaches the cane to the saddle. Mulan opens the gates for them, dutifully, but then crosses her arms as she watches them go. She seems slightly irritated.

Zhou shakes his head. "Please ignore my daughter's rudeness. She usually is the one to help me."

"You take your daughter on business calls?"

"She waits outside with the horses. One makes do without a son."

Shang is unsure of what to say. And he's uncertain if he should feel insulted that his current position could also be filled by a woman. Yet, as usual on this strange trip, he doesn't seem to mind. But somehow, it feels as though every corner of his arrival has been coated in a 'Mulan explanation.' The strange girl was an unending river of curiosities. Well, if one could call unusual antics a curiosity…

The day goes by quickly. Which is a relief, considering how long the past few days have lingered.

The villagers are an interesting bunch of folks. Some are quiet and respectful. Other men are loud and cackling, shooting off questions for the pair — "My son just returned too, but he didn't bring home another man!" Their surrounding friends laugh and clap each other's backs. Shang has enough integrity to not jump off his horse, and confront their rude clownery directed at his host's expense.

Instead, he uses military training to redirect their vulgarity — "Perhaps, you should ask your son yourself. There are still other soldiers being sent home."

It was a common technique utilized by high-ranks against subordinates who mocked their authority. He used it when a surly soldier named Yao called him 'pretty boy,' and thus, he made a spectacle of him by casting him as the first volunteer, to retrieve an arrow from a very tall post.

And it works. The group of rowdy men groan, and shake their fists before departing. Zou looks proudly over at the tactful young man, admiring his even temper. For a moment, he wishes Shang and the General where here under different circumstances. Oh well, the older man contemplates.

Shang hasn't seen such a balance of people in a while. For so long, there's been only a chain-of-command in sight. It was relaxing to be outside of the box for once, if not a little unnerving. But he saw that he still is able to function, without a place to stand in the army. It's a comforting thought.

On their way home, Shang wasn't surprised to see Mulan standing outside one of the houses. She just appeared everywhere, doesn't she? Like the wind or the rain.

"And what is this flower doing, wilting in the sunshine?" Zhou smiles down at his daughter. He knew she never cared about tanning in the sun. Not like many other village girls her age who carried umbrellas.

"The healer is visiting again, so Grandma decided it was a good time to call on the acupuncturist. Her poor knees. I'm walking her back." Her grandmother no longer could comfortably use a horse.

"My leg needs a stretch." Zhou sidles down from the horse, as Mulan rushes to help him. "I'll walk her back."

Both Mulan and Shang wait in disbelieving silence.

"Baba…"

"Shang will escort you home, right?" He looks up at the other man.

Automatically responding to the command, like it was born in him, because it sort of was, Shang nods his head. "Of course."

Mulan mounts Khan, and the horse whinnies happily to have the lighter girl on his back. They've always been good friends.

Their trot home was more awkward than other moment Shang could remember in his life. Both said nothing — like they shared the common language of the equally disinterested. Though Shang hates to admit, he isn't particularly against knowing more of her, because one cannot knowingly call complete bewilderment over a person 'disinterest.' He decides it must be his interest in storytelling. He simply likes knowing how things end.

He watches the villagers faces as they assessed the pair. There was a group of girls that look around Mulan's age (wait, what was her exact age?) who seem to be giggling at her. Or at both of them. It was hard to tell.

But Mulan keeps her eyes and shoulders down, like she wishes to disappear. She seems so different from the girl who boldly jumped into her father's arms without a second thought. The difference seems night and day to him, and there was disappointing feeling that came with it. As if watching the sun set and when darkness suddenly alarms you.

He supposes it's not surprising how the fellow villagers might find her… rather unusual as well. Perhaps, it was because of her unconventional upbringing. A doting father. A home that didn't begrudge her peculiar antics.

Then, suddenly without thinking much about it, Shang evaluates the young men in the village. They didn't seem that impressive. But he wonders which one of them will be matched with her? It's an interesting thought to indulge, only because she's so different. It would make for a good folk story — the wayward, clumsy girl marrying a serious fisherman of some sort. But, perhaps, acting more as a warning story that mothers would tell their daughters, Shang sadly realizes.

He feels a pang of odd sympathy for this girl.

And then, immediately feels foolish for himself — getting wrapped up in pointless domestic antics. Is this what life looked like on the other side of the battlefield? He went from worrying over his soldier's rice rations, to wondering how one girl might be treated by her village? Perhaps, his mind was seeking a distraction from his father, whose health was no better this morning.

When they reach the stables, and dismount, his father is the only excuse he could muster in order to slink away from this girl's strange orbit — pulling unusual thoughts from his head.

"I must tend to my father now." He bows awkwardly, before realizing she was already on her way out.

But for the first time, she stops and fully gazes at his face directly — her eyes growing very soft, like smudged ink. He even feels the inspiration to go write a letter. To who? He has no idea. But it wouldn't be a bad way to pass the time.

Mulan sat on the railing of the family's arched bridge, swinging her legs. She wishes she could still swim at a moment's notice, like she did as a little girl.

The house felt too heavy to stay put in. Li Shang's father has gotten worse. He spent the rest of the afternoon hidden in the general's room with the healer. She and Mama gathered supplies and delivered them outside their door.

How could this day get any worse?

She's sure the Wu sisters will tell other daughters about her stroll with Shang. They marched through the village like a spectacle, which is the last thing she needs. She'll have to hear about it in their respective weaving circles. As if she wasn't already bad enough at weaving!

Then, they'll tease her even more when Shang inevitably departs from their home.

Ai-yah! You fool, Mulan scolds herself for the lack of empathy. Shang will leave once his father…

The poor boy.

It seems funny to think of him as a boy, the large and battle-worn man. But it's how he looks whenever she spies on that wing of the house, as he goes to and from his father's room. A little hopeful. A little lost. Mulan appreciates his duality. Whenever she's upset, she feels it full force; unable to juggle multiple feelings on her sleeve. Similar to when her father left for war, limping out the door — she saw no honor or glory, only despair. Shang wears his worry and honor like two crests.

Her mother always said she could only be one season at a time. Perhaps, that's why she's so bad at traditions. They called for so many shades. "Be calm, be fast-paced, be obedient." But what if one attribute was at a cost of another? Like the time her uncle visited and Little Brother fled the yard, and she ran inside and screamed to her parents before their dog got away. He was only a puppy then. She was fast-paced but not so calm. Mama's older brother had scolded her parents, wagging a finger about how she wasn't a good example for the family.

It seems like she'd always sink like a stone.

Speaking of stones… Mulan pulls out a handful of small, flat pebbles from her pocket. She hops up, and stands on the bridge's railing, balancing herself with ease, then skillfully flung the skipping stones. Why couldn't this be something that impressed the matchmaker?

She began to walk along the bridge, happy to see her feet moving gracefully at least in one area, and –

"Get down!"

There's a great shout from behind, and she feels something brush at her elbow, startling her, and turns quickly, but her foot slips backwards, and –

SPLASH.

Mulan quickly surfaces in the water, whipping long hair out of her face. "Hey!" she automatically yells. Well, I did want to go for a swim but this is ridiculous, she thought.

She swims to the edge of the grass, where Shang emerges, looking guilty and annoyed all at once. Again, with duality. Geez.

"Are you hurt?" He reaches for her hand. Any shyness he held for the past few days seemingly melted away with the possible danger.

"No."

"You could have killed yourself, why were you up there?"

"Thank you, but I was fine." She held her tongue — until you made me fall.

"You fell off a bridge."

"It wasn't very tall and the water is deep." She squints her eyes.

He sighs, mostly to himself, and looks away.

Mulan shrugs her top dress closer onto her shoulders. Feeling awkward. As you should, this is worse than throwing scalding tea on the matchmaker!

"Don't go up there again," he says, bossily.

"I do it all the time. I never fall," she says, unable to stop herself. An irritation brewing in her chest.

"You just did."

"You startled me."

"Well, if you're easily startled then don't climb high things." He sounds grumpy.

A heavy wave of indignation washes over her. She can't act as she pleases in her own home, even in private? Can she ever be herself, anywhere?

"You're not the boss of me."

Both are stunned in silence.

With his mouth hanging open, Shang felt a sense of dutiful anger, because technically he is the boss of her — almost similar to how a captain should feel when one of his soldiers disobeys. But he is not her captain. How does he fix this?

"I may not be, but your father wouldn't want to hear of this." He waves a hand to the dumb bridge — bringer of all this… whatever one called this unpleasantness.

"He wouldn't be surprised."

"Then perhaps, he'd be displeased to hear how you've spoken to me."

Mulan shuts her mouth, like a hooked fish. Baba would be furious… How could she upset him so soon after he got back? The shame.

Meanwhile, Shang could practically feel the General smacking his forehead in disappointment. How many times, growing up, did he have to hear about his father's charms with women? He could already hear the echo of his threat — so misplaced. It didn't sound right at all, not like how he thought it would come off. He just threatened to tell on her, like they were young children, squabbling over a game. For all his years of training on authority and technique, none of it was working now. Maybe he was wrong… maybe he didn't suit village life after all…

"That is… I don't mean to..."

"Forgive my interruption. I'll let the Captain return to his walk." Mulan swiftly bows, and flees from the pond. She had to escape, before she let anger overthrow her tongue. This was already too embarrassing to face. She'd only make it worse by staying any longer.

And as Shang watched the girl half-run away, holding her wet dress by the hem, in that moment he can't help but pray the General heals quicker for selfish reasons. So, they could leave this strange place, where he had no clue what he's doing.

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