Reflection

by Rival Argentica

Captain Lord Shen, the meek peahen Mulan, the wolfish Xiongnu invading China, training an army, and daddy issues. [On indefinite hiatus.]

4. III - Lords and Legacies

III. Lords and Legacies

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When the Soothsayer entered the room, the old goat heard the Lord Lì, Shen's father, ranting out the apparent distress that was expressively…expressed on his face.

"—and my wife," he was rambling on, pacing the room back and forth like an agitated pendulum. "Meifeng, that stubborn woman. She deems me at fault—as always—and refuses to talk to me. And she demands that I explain myself. But how can I explain myself if she refuses to talk to me? I don't understand her. As if I didn't have enough responsibility of protecting the whole of China already, she sulks in her room like the moody queen she is, purposefully making me feel even more horrible than I already do. She wants me to resign from being the Emperor's general, or I humble myself in front of my son and ask for his pardon. She is actually insisting that I do both, else she divorces me. Divorces me!" The peacock lord shook his head miserably, crest feathers swaying in response. "The gall of women nowadays…"

Females. Such royal pains.

The giant panda, Li Shan, sat on a chair, pretending to be listening to his friend's ramblings, nodding vigorously as if in agreement while he calmly drank the aromatic green tea that had been generously offered to him. He was used to sessions like this. Usually the peacock lord would call for him and beg him to accompany him in a 'private dinner' with him, being his most trusted friend and all, and, of course, Li Shan, being the loyal comrade he was, would come at any time.

Li Shan observed Lord Lì's train feathers first before talking. They were now flat on the floor, meaning that this certain peacock was now calm. He had known his friend for years and had long since figured out that peacocks, when riled up, usually could not contain the flaring of those fancy colourful train feathers of theirs. The panda humbly smiled, then gently placed his cup of tea on the table.

"Why, my lord, we're the same then. I have a wife that stubborn too." Li Shan chuckled at the thought of his wife—strong, beautiful, a woman of obdurate bolshiness, the love of his life. "But that is exactly the reason why I have fallen for her in the first place. Her stubbornness is just…" His eyes went dreamy for that moment in a second. "…awesome."

The Soothsayer, with a smile on her face, ultimately then decided that it was time to reveal her presence to the two men by clearing her throat.

"Ahem."

Lord Lì bolted straight up at the sound of a new voice entering his audial range, and he whirled around to see the old court soothsayer standing by the door. "A-Ah-Ma!" he spluttered, nervousness suddenly gripping his throat. Did the Soothsayer hear all that he'd said? If she had, and told them to his wife… "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Men. She chuckled. Such simple-minded beings.

There was laughter in the old goat's eyes as she stroked her beard, nearing them by walking towards the two of them slowly. The sound of her tapping cane bounced across the room as she talked. "Yes, my lord, it is I, the Soothsayer, and I fathom that you seem to have forgotten that you were the one who had actually summoned me here."

Lì blinked, blushing a bit from under his feathers. Of course. How could he have forgotten? He really must have been getting old, as Meifeng so often reminded him in half-jest.

The Soothsayer took her seat beside an apparently comfortable Li Shan. The panda gave the old goat one look and regarded her with a grin.

"So, Lì, my buddy, you have a nanny, eh?"

Lì mumbled something under his breath that was both inaudible and incomprehensible. But then he gestured a wing towards Ah-Ma to introduce her to him, and to Li Shan to Ah-Ma, his voice almost sounding as a typical teen's immature grumble. The Lord of Gongmen only showed this side of his whenever his wife is not around or perhaps only to Li Shan and the Soothsayer, his two most trusted people of his royal acquaintanceship.

"Li Shan, this is Ah-Ma, the court Soothsayer. Not my nanny. And, Ah-Ma—Li Shan, my loyal friend from the mountainous province of Shaanxi, where the rest of his kind dwells. He'd come to accompany me to a…private dinner."

"A Soothsayer, eh?" said Li Shan with a friendly wave over at her. "I didn't know you had these kinds of people, my lord." He turned to the goat. "So you mean you can see things, stuff in the future like that?"

The Soothsayer shrugged, light and amusement in her eyes. The gesture was the universal language for either 'yes' or 'no'. Li Shan decided that this was a rather cryptic answer, so he simply gulped his throat down and deemed it a great idea not to utter a word any further.

Ah-Ma took one thoughtful look over at Li Shan's direction, and saw something ethereal, something only a seer would see. There was a bright, almost blinding white aura surrounding him. Hmm. She stroked her beard contemplatively. Curious.

"Do you have any children, Li Shan?" she asked, after a second's internal deliberation.

"Why, yes, my son little Lotus is quite the butterball," he laughed, remembering his roly-poly pudding of a bundle of joy.

"…there is a great future awaiting him," mumbled the old goat cryptically.

Li Shan quirked an eyebrow over her direction. "You said something?"

The Soothsayer shook her head and stared straightly ahead to avoid his gaze. Her face was blank, giving no hint whatsoever—divinity was a dangerous thing that she had learned over the years to handle with skilful hooves. But even so, there was a smile in her eyes. Ah. She saw a bright future in this panda's son indeed—too bright that she could even interpret it without 'Little Lodus' himself being here.

"No, nothing."

Li Shan was still curious, but he managed to just shrug it off his shoulders by sitting back in his chair in a very dismissive manner. "Okay, if you say so."

Lord Lì clapped his wings. "Now then, Soothsayer. To business."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I need your counsel. About something…" Guilt suddenly haunted the Lord of Gongmen's dark reflective eyes. "…someone close to me."

A knowing smile crossed the Soothsayer's face at that moment then. She closed her eyes, then casually stroked her beard as the assumptive words smoothly rolled off her tongue, as was her natural ability. "You are concerned about the condition of the young lord, an implication that you are truly regretful for what you have done. You want my advice on what appropriate approach there is for you to do and make up for the words that had Lord Shen indeed emotionally wounded." She opened her eyes to reveal deep brown irises that bore into his. "With all due respect, my lord, I agree with what Li Shan here had been repeatedly telling you this whole time. Just let Lord Shen see your sincerity. Humble yourself in front of your son. It is enough to mend the clothing, stitch again what had been torn."

The two fatherly Lis—Li Shan and Lord Lì—had the same shocked reactions as they gaped at the royal seer.

"H-how did you—" the panda stammered, unable to start a sentence. "How did you know that Lord Lì here had been asking advice from me all along? And how do you know I've been telling him those exact answers you've just said, all those time?"

Lì shook out of his trance. "Soothsayer, if I even try to make an appearance in front of my son, I might get accidentally stabbed in the neck."

"And you have one long neck over there alright," joked Li Shan. But Lì only glared at him with a laughless face, so the cheery panda ultimately then decided to just clam up.

"Perhaps you should go tell my son, Soothsayer," continued Lì. "Tell him that I have sent you with my apologies. After all, it is you who he trusts more than…" His stubbornly blinked his suddenly misty eyes and turned away to hide that expression on his face. "…than his own father."

'How dare you say that you raised me?'

The Soothsayer firmly tapped her cane onto the ground, yanking him back to reality. "No, my lord. You have to personally deliver your apologies to him yourself. He would think that you are busy again with royal businesses, and that these royal businesses are worth attending to than him, which would make him moody again. Quite the over-thinker, your little chick."

"But what if he won't…"

"My lord, please. Are you not brought up by the noblest peafowl in China? Are you not lord of the most industrialized urban centre of the entire province? Are you not the general of the Emperor's Imperial Army? Are you, Lord Lì of Gongmen City, actually afraid to be rejected by a mere teenager?" The Soothsayer knew that what she was doing was manipulating her superior by stomping on his pride, but pride is synonymous to men, and tempting men through pride is usually what gets them started to work. "Are you not young Lord Shen's father? Are you not supposed to be the one raising him to be the peacock that you have always imagined him to become in the future? Are you even supposed to be giving your own fatherly job to a mere soothsayer such as I, who is not even of royal blood? Can you not make a simple, small thing as an apology?"

"No," said Lì, quietly. Then, more firmly, "No. No, you are right. I am going to apologize to Shen myself."

The Soothsayer's expression softened as she stood up, satisfied. She headed for the door, her job here done. "I suggest you invite Shen to go with you to the Emperor's palace, my lord. Haven't you been invited there by the imperial councillor? If you go with Shen to the Emperor's dinner, he will realize your apology's sincerity."

"Of course. Oh, and, Soothsayer."

"My lord?"

Lì looked at her straight into the eyes. "I asked you for a prediction before the marriage. I thought you foretold that Shen and Lady Lan's marriage would be successful."

The Soothsayer smiled a knowing smile, which for some reason irked Lì a bit. "I never said that, my lord. Not the exact words, at least. I merely foretold that the day of their marriage would be the beginning of Shen's life."

"Doesn't that mean the same?"

"Correct, my lord. But it has a thousand more meanings." The Soothsayer looked at him. "Do not trouble yourself with that anymore, my lord. The wedding is past and doesn't need your attention anymore. Your son does."

The moment the Soothsayer had closed the door and was finally gone, Lì let his head fall into his wings, and groaned, now that he was certain that the old goat was out of earshot.

"Li Shan, my friend," moaned the peacock. "I haven't even the foggiest on how to apologize to a temperamental teen. And my son is a teen. Teens are extremely susceptible to mood swings, and talking to Shen, of all peacocks, would surely not end up well."

Li Shan rolled his eyes. "Teens, you say? That's easy. Teens like to talk modern-like. So try talking to Shen in slang. Maybe that would take your father-son relationship on cooler grounds. You know how the teens are nowadays. Maybe he's secretly sick of all these royal formalities and wants to talk in slang with someone in his life for a bit. I learned how to speak slang from the those teens back at the panda village."

"Slang?" questioned a curious Lì.

"Slang," confirmed a nodding Li Shan.

The peacock was silent for a while.

Then, "My loyal panda friend, what are slangs?"

Li Shan gaped at him. "Dude, you don't know what slangs are?"

The confused lord shook his head no.

The panda grinned. "Slangs are a teen's language. You have to talk to slang if you want your little prince forgiving you. Drop every form of formality and talk like cool."

"I know not how to talk like ice."

The panda blinked. "Ice?" It took him more than a second before he got the drift, and when he did, he fought the urge to smack himself on the forehead. "No! No, no, stu—I mean, your highness, not ice. Cool. 'Talk like cool'."

"Of course, of course. I know not how to 'talk like cool'."

The panda shot him a finger gun and a smirk. "Lucky you, then, I'm gonna teach you how."

Lì cocked an eyebrow. His friend had just said a peculiar word. Gonna. 'Gonna'? What kind of a word was that?

oO0Oo

The events of the last three days had astounded every citizen of Gongmen City. Or, rather, they pretended to be. Everyone knew of Lord Shen's attitude—he hated women with a passion, which was understandable, because every time his parents presented him with a new bride, the lady always spat out some pretty offensive words against his colour. So, with time, he hated them altogether, with the assumption that every woman of every species was haughty and petty and shallow as they had no other care in the world except the useless makeup on their faces. The cancellation of Lord Shen and Lady Lan's marriage was bound to happen, of course everyone expected that much. But even so, everyone pretended to be shocked about the fiery incident Shen had caused.

After all that had happened between the two, marriage was no longer an option. The palace seers were strictly against it. They said that the fire had been an omen, a warning—a sign that the gods above are not in favour of their union. This basically told the royals of Songzhi that they weren't needed in Gongmen anymore, and they needn't be told twice. So Lady Lan-Niu had left the palace yesterday trying to calm down her wild-eyed father who spat gibberish about how Shen had so unduly disgraced his daughter, that he was a bad omen, a freak of nature, a white dishonour, a disgraceful prince, and blah blah blah. Shen had heard enough of all those tiring clichés.

Shen was still confined to his royal quarters—though, by the third day since the fire, he felt fine. Well, that is, not considering his talons. He'd received quite a burn, and, compared to the time he'd received the wound, it was starting to get more painful by the day. Despite that, though, it must be a good sign. His sensory nerves were starting to be repaired. A fast recovery, thanks to Ah-Ma's strong doses of medicine.

A servant had just finished cleaning Shen's wound, and he was thankful that the painful ordeal was finally over. The servant, that is. His ears had never been quite so bombarded with his prince's unpleasant words. Well, he was used to them, actually, and had grown intolerant of them after all these years, but a small rabbit's eardrums could only take too much. All he could do was bow his head and say, over and over again, 'My prince, this is a raw wound, of course it's going to hurt, now please be quiet and stay still,' even though what he really wanted to say was 'Ugh, you idiot, of COURSE this is going to hurt, now shut your dirty beak up and stop wriggling like a maggot!'

But then again, of course, he couldn't say that. He loved his neck dearly.

After the ordeal, Shen formally dismissed his servant with a wave of a wing, and, like anyone would have, the temporary palace healer had all been too happy to oblige. He had filled in the place of the court Soothsayer, Ah-Ma, who was still resting in bed, confined just as Shen was, or at least that was as far as he knew. He hadn't seen Ah-Ma in three days.) The rabbit packed his luggage and left the room with a smile of triumph on his face, as if he'd just finished battling a legendary monstrosity and heroically prevented the end of the world.

Once the rabbit was gone, the peacock released a sigh, now relieved to have his room to himself again. He stared at the ceiling for a few distant moments, before he decided that the time for resting was past. He'd been confined in bed to rest for more than enough instances in his childhood to last a lifetime. He was not born to become a barnacle, no—he had no time to sulk in his own pity party like a helpless, disabled wag. Time to move on.

He pushed his wings against the sides of his bed in an attempt to get up, and immediately felt a jolt of pain coming from his feet as they accidentally came in contact with the bed's wooden posts. But, unlike earlier, he didn't even release a shout that complained of the pain. He continued pushing himself up, and eventually, to his triumph, he was able to. He gently placed his bandaged talons onto the polished floor, slowly, one after the other, and attempted to walk.

The first step was painful. But what else did he expect? He suppressed a flinch, trying to keep himself steady, and walk on. Steady. Walk on. Keep those in mind. Keep the muscles moving. He knew he was disobeying his doctor's direct order—which was no simpler than to rest—but Shen was not exactly someone who took fancy in blindly following an order from so-called experts. Enduring the pain in this little exercise was better than having to lie in bed all day long, doing nothing, achieving nothing. That rabbit he encountered earlier was merely one of those pathetic, stuttering quacks claiming they saw the end of the world through a crack in a bone. He had to admit that he preferred to have the Soothsayer tend to his wounds, because the touch of her hooves was much gentler than that imbecile's.

In a couple of hours or three, Shen's feet became accustomed to movement. He was thankful to himself that he'd agreed to take in the Soothsayer's medicines. Bitter as they were, their effects were astounding. He was already starting to feel better already—although of course, there was still the pain. The prince then decided to grab his Guan Dao and practiced a few kung fu stances, the fragile objects around his room serving him a platter of a challenge: try not to break anything. It helped to divert his thoughts from the guilt of almost having the Soothsayer killed three days ago. Instead, he focused his mind on trying to think of a way to get his feet back to normal again.

He effortlessly twirled his sword in the air, expertly missing the wick of the candle in a candelabrum by a hair's breadth, the metal singing with his thoughts. Hmm. The doctors said that his feet would be totally healed, but that he'd be limp and would be struggling with kung fu for the next five years. Shen wanted to laugh at them—limp? It has only been three days, but look at him now, for heaven's sake! They also said that, with a portion of his train feathers burned, his glides would become unstable from then on and Cai Li F ao would be useless to him, as his train feathers were mainly used for defensive stances of the martial art. They said there was no other way to fix them.

Or rather, Shen thought, their brains had no other way to be fixed. What fools. They kept saying all those same things. They always said there was no way to fix this and that, but Shen knew the truth: they just couldn't admit that they don't actually know how, saying there was no other way this and there is no other way that. Brilliant doctors they were, brilliant at making excuses. Pathetic. There was always a way. Always. Those pathetic doctors, always relying on the rules of the medical book. For them, trying to think of something new would be like against the written law.

It was the opposite for Shen. For him, trying to think of something new was a challenge promising him of an innovative future. It gave him a thrill, drawing his excitement from the fact that he could use his brain for something. There was a way to fix his injured feet and get them to full functioning in no time. He just didn't know how. This little conundrum was merely a test by fate.

And he would not let it win.

"Oh, hello, Shen!"

The tension in the air shattered. His focused thoughts were suddenly ripped open by the unusually cheery greeting. Shen was suddenly overcome with shock at the interruption, lost balance, and, with the pain erupting from his feet, fell at the floor with a strangled gasp and accidentally let go of his Guan Dao—which took its path and flew halfway across the room, puncturing the wall beyond the now open door, which almost sliced through an equally shocked Lord Lì's neck hadn't he moved away just in time.

"What! Son!" The father's wing flew to caress his neck in shock, as if making sure it was still there. When you were with Shen, you thought about the safety of your neck often. Lì stomped into the room to kneel down before his son, who was currently trying to keep a straight face despite the pain as he got up from the floor. No such luck. Lì kept on yelling. But this time, though, it was not out of anger—it was out of paternal concern.

"What did you think were you doing, son? Playing with that huge sword in your room? I thought the doctors told you to rest! Look at what you've done to yourself!" He gestured at Shen lying on the floor.

"I wonder if you've heard of a quaint custom called knocking," the prince grumbled.

"What?"

"I said, a pleasure to meet you, father."

Lì decided not to prod anymore though, thankfully. "Well. It's just that I haven't seen you for days. You know how the Council is." He chuckled, but when Shen didn't join him, he stopped. Instead, Lì cleared his throat, stood up, and offered his grown prince a wing. "Here, son, let me help you up."

Shen looked at the offered wing for a moment.

"I can stand on my own," he finally said, and even though Shen struggled to lift himself up, the emotionlessness of his face betrayed it. Lì's wing dropped to his side as he watched the younger peacock get on his feet. He was slightly offended to have been rejected, and on any other occasion he would have been angry, but this time, he figured that he deserved this kind of treatment after all he'd said and done, three days back. That particular day didn't exactly make the loveliest of memories, and probably had even left an unfading scar. For both of them.

Shen stood across him and gave him the stiffest of stares. With the impatience on the younger's face, Lì thought that he had probably been lost in thought for several seconds now.

"Yes, father? You have come to see me. Is there something you require?"

So formal, Lì thought with a sad smile. Of course Shen had learned that from no one else but him. According to a lecture with his slang professor, Li Shan, all this fancy decorum was the one thing that separated him and his son worlds apart. How come had he only realized it now? If this formality indeed was the one that separated them, then Lì wanted this to change. Starting with…slang-injected conversation, as Li Shan had so helpfully taught him.

"So, er…son," he started, just how his panda slang tutor had told him to. "How's it going?"

On one wing, Shen cocked an eyebrow of confusion at the sudden change of tone. His father never spoke in informal vernacular. Most uncharacteristic.

On the other wing, Lì wanted to smack himself on the forehead at his display of stupidity. A royal should never be caught saying something so commoner-worthy like How's it going? Really. All the etiquette he'd learned, going down the drain. He was going to lose his son's respect for doing this.

"Ah, so I see you've been practicing martial arts. That's awesome," the father continued casually, running a finger onto the surface of a table as if inspecting the texture. But, in actuality, he was just doing it to hide the embarrassment. The overwhelming informality was burning through Lì's feathers, but he kept going on. This was three days' worth of rehearsal, he told himself. Don't waste it. Keep going. "Your handling of your sword was dexterou—I-I mean...you…you were, like, severely cool. You've been hitting this and that and—whoa. All I can say is, you've been doing totally awesome. Like, totally. A hundred and one per cent totally. And did I say you were awesome?" The last part came out as a pathetic squeak.

Twitch. Twitch. That was the most movement Shen could manage as of the moment.

"And, you know, BTW, I've been thinking." Lì acted like he didn't notice Shen's noticeable twitching of feathers. "Let's forget the lab-fire thing. Start over. That good for you?"

Shen was now unduly horrified. What a horrid grammar sense. His father had just stated a broken sentence. His father had just stated a broken sentence!

He didn't respond to the presented question.

"And I wanna say sorry," Lì continued. "For, you know. All the things I said. Back then. I just…er…wanna say sorry." Lì cleared his throat uncomfortably, eyes darting to everywhere else but Shen's.

Shen was still stunned. His mind was ringing with chaos. His father had said 'wanna'. Twice. Did his father just say 'wanna'? Twice?! It couldn't be. His father never said 'wanna'. Since when had his father said 'wanna'? 'Wanna' wasn't even a word. 'Wanna' was senseless and inarticulate. Only the illiterate, low-class peasant said 'wanna'. Royals never said 'wanna'. No, Shen's ears must be fooling him. Yes. That must be it. Ridiculous.

An awkward silence settled.

One second. Two seconds. Three. Then four.

Five. Six.

Seven.

…eight.

The older peacock couldn't take it anymore.

"For heaven's sake, Shen," he finally exploded, "say something."

The prince needn't be told twice. Shen caressed his temples with his wings, trying to calm down the uproar inside his brain. His rationality was starting to crash down, all because his father was starting to lose it.

"…please," Shen finally said. "You need not compensate for anything. You can speak normally now." He looked at him pointedly. "And by normally, I mean formally."

Lì gulped, mortification washing over his face. He wasn't like this before. He wasn't pathetic before. Li Shan was right. Having a family had weakened him. "Well…" Now given the permission to become formal again, he didn't know what to say. Shen sighed, perhaps too dramatically.

"You came here because you needed something," Shen deduced, who appeared to be dealing with the sudden headache that had come over him just now. All this informality was getting on his nerves. "You never come to see me unless there was something important. What is it? Just get to the point."

Lì sighed. Formality was the twin of royalty. He couldn't just breach and separate it away from them. Society declared so. It was at that moment when he decided that everything he had learned about slang from his panda friend should be flung out the window, never to be seen again.

"Well, son," he started, reverting to his original formal tone. Ah, bliss. The words rolled off his tongue like milk—he never felt so good being formal. "Are you, perhaps, familiar with Guiren? The highest member of the Emperor's Council?"

Shen nodded. Just once. Lì couldn't help the wing that ran over his face in despair. His son really was already fixed to formality, which, according to Slang Professor Li Shan, was the twin of indifference. Old habits do die hard.

"Well, as you know, Guiren came to me personally last three days ago. He told me something very important." Lì paused for a dramatic effect. "He had invited me over for dinner."

Shen waited for a few more moments, but when Lì didn't say anything more, he cocked his head to the side in confusion. Strange.

"And that concerns me because…?"

"Please." All too suddenly, Lì grasped Shen's wing in a tight grip, the older peacock bowing his head before his son. The sight was like a beggar grasping a passer-by's hand and pleading on him for food. Shen was once again stunned by the action. Weird. Unusual. Out of character. This string of eccentric events was starting to make him wonder if the person before him actually was his father or not.

Shen tried to pull his arm away. "What on earth are you—"

"Please don't resist." Lì raised his eyes up to Shen's. "I have a request from you, and I am hoping for a 'yes' as a response."

"I couldn't agree if I don't even know what I am agreeing for in the first place. The Emperor invited you over for dinner, then. So?"

The desperate father looked into his son's eyes intensely, as if trying to deliver his message through the air. He had never told his son this before. But then again, he had never done such a humiliating act before. He was astounded at himself for the amount of sacrifice he'd just poured today, all for the sake of bringing his son back to him. All these years, he'd been a terrible father, concerned with nothing but royalty. Well, that was responsibility, and one could not turn away from one's duty, but royalty was not all that mattered. Sometimes, relationships do. Three days ago, he'd broken his relationship with his son, puncturing a hole far deeper than the one inflicted by Shen's Guan Dao on the wall. Now was as good a time as any to re-establish it, fill the hole back with sand, and strengthen it with cement.

So, he heaved a breath, and, with a shaking voice, he finally said the awaited words aloud, as if every single syllable caused him a massive drain of energy—not to mention pride.

"I…I request that you come with me, Shen. For the dinner with the Emperor."

This gave Shen pause. Yet another shocking thing for his father to say. Shocking, yes, but, strangely…not unpleasant. His father was deeming him worthy. Worthy enough to come with him to have dinner with the Emperor. His father was not afraid to show to the Emperor himself that he was white and deformed—no, he was even inviting him, pleading him to come with him. Shen almost accepted it.

But then a voice whispered inside his head. And that voice was his father's.

'No son of mine is a coward, would dare run away from his duty, and would disgrace me like this one just had.'

No. His father was lying. All of this was acting—just…just pathetic, old school acting. So Shen wordlessly pulled his wing away, and turned his back to his own father.

Lì's crest feathers flattened. He had expected this. He deserved nothing less than rejection and a turned back. He decided he should probably leave.

"Very well, then, son. You may continue your training. I…I apologize for the disturbance."

The disheartened father turned to leave. But then a movement—and a voice—from behind him stopped him.

"…when do we leave?" asked the young prince in a whispery voice.

oO0Oo

After that meeting, Lì had confiscated Shen's Guan Dao.

"It's just too dangerous a plaything, Shen," explained the father to an angrily wailing Shen. "I am disposing of it."

Shen could have done more wailing, but he knew that he would never win an argument when his father was set in a decisive mode. So he just decided to go along with it. He had to be cleverer in hiding his knives inside his robes, though, because once his father knew, his mini armoury would be completely empty for the rest of his life.

After having convinced Shen to come with him, Lì immediately called for the palace servants to prepare food and clothing for the duration of the journey that they are about to embark on as a response for the Emperor's invitation. Gongmen City is not far from Fuzhou, where the Emperor lives, in fact with the new system of transportation developed by Lì, the Imperial City was merely two and half days away by chariot. Shen, however, was not pleased upon knowing this.

"Two days!" he had hollered, to which his father could only awkwardly groan in response. His son really had to get a lesson in anger management. But could Lì blame Shen? He himself was very susceptible to anger—maybe Shen had even inherited it from him. "Two and a half days of travelling, all for an old cat's request! That is extremely preposterous!" The prince continued to ramble as he pranced dramatically over the tiled floors before his father, all etiquette lessons about not raising one's voice to your parents and all those things now becoming useless whatnots to Shen. "I could have used that much amount of time for my research—"

"Shen," Lì had interrupted, fighting the urge to run his feathers over his face in frustration. Patience, he told himself. Perhaps Shen would learn in time to do just the same. After all, like father, like son, right? "I have not forgotten my decree that you are not to touch a single grain of gunpowder any again." Then, noticing, the stiffness in Shen's expression, Lì softened his, lowering his volumes to paternal tones. "This is a request made by the Emperor, son. I couldn't just refuse."

And, unfortunately, even though Shen had wanted to open his beak to snap back at him a pithy retort, he couldn't refuse either. His father was right. And besides, this dinner invitation was probably the only way for the father and son to mend their mistakes. Shen, in spite of his arrogant self, chose to cooperate and at least give his father a chance.

At last they had arrived at the Emperor's imperial palace. The imperial servants had treated them with utmost hospitality, from the lavish rooms to the welcoming services which Shen was forced to be grateful of, or at least look like he was grateful of. His father Lì could be very demanding.

After having waited for night to come, the servants announced that the Emperor had finally arrived home just recently from an appointment with the Imperial Council. The servants escorted Gongmen's royals to the dining hall, where they were warmly greeted by an old Emperor sitting on the far side of a kilometre-long mahogany table, which was brimming with food only worthy of a royal.

Much pleasantry was exchanged between Lord Lì and Emperor Fuzhou, to which Lord Shen could only roll his eyes on. Royal life. Too much flowery whatnot. Why don't these people just get down to business? If China was in danger, why did these two adults look like they had all the time in the world? Shen thought that the Xiongnu were no sort of creatures to be trifled with. Led by the vicious gorilla Donghai Khan, these were a massive group of wolves that had come from the North and said to have come to seize control of China. They were slow-moving, yes, but that does not level down their capacity to kill and ravage. Shen had heard stories.

And they were not nice.

Wolves… Shen's eyes grew distant at the thought of them. But then, when he realized what he had been thinking about, he slapped himself mentally, then banished that mere inkling of a shadow of a thought at the very back of his mind.

"…and this is Shen, my son, heir of Gongmen," Lì was proudly saying over at the Emperor, whose kind eyes flickered over to the white peacock seated near him. Shen sent a brief, curt nod of acknowledgement over at the old red fox at the mention of his name. The Emperor smiled, obviously expecting Shen to smile back at him—but no, Shen tried to, but somehow his beak felt too heavy for him to do such arduous thing. The Emperor frowned.

"I am pleased to say, your most honoured imperial Excellency," continued Lì, "that my young son is quite the inventor."

Your most honoured imperial Excellency? Shen thought. Another eye-roll. What a pompous addressing title.

"…Shen?" prodded his father, and the young lord averted his eyes to see both the Emperor and Lord Lì staring at him questioningly, though his father's eyes were glaring at him more pointedly than ever. "What have you to say to our Emperor here again, son? Tell him about your blueprints and your experiments."

Shen decided to cut to the chase. "This is farcical, father. You are the general. You are supposed to be discussing battle plans with the Emperor against the Xiongnu, not blathering on about domestic life when China is at stake."

Lì's face was then flushed with mortification as the Emperor laughed warmheartedly at him. "You are a shrewd one, are you not, young lord? But you are correct." The light on the Emperor's face was immediately overcome with darkness at that very moment then. He remembered his enemy, and he remembered how they had slain his mightiest warriors, Oogway and Kai, and he remembered his people, whom he must protect. "General Lord Lì, I want you on the battlefront once more, and indeed I have sent you here, not for us to have pleasant talk, but to talk of China's future."

"Very well, my emperor." Lì cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed of his son's misbehaviour. He was merely trying to patronize Shen. At least he was trying to mend their relationship. The older peacock shot a look to the younger, his eyes clearly stating We are going to have to talk about your talking manners later, young man, to which Shen simply shrugged off, as if to reply, Why, father? I have merely tried to push the conversation to its very purpose. We have no time for pleasantries.

And so, with much courtesy to Shen's brusqueness, the meeting started. Both the Emperor and the General were on a heated discussion about tactics, men, soldiers, training, preparations, and battle necessities. Shen quietly listened to their conversation and occasional debates on matters as the minutes slowly ticked into hours. They were discussing about how the Xiongnu had stolen their weapons, had immobilized the army of Oogway and Kai, had ravaged the cities outside China and are already approaching the Great Wall, about the Xiongnu's leader Khan, the Xiongnu's wolf soldiers, the Xiongnu's brutality this, and the Xiongnu's dangerousness that. It was quite tedious, hearing them talk about the Xiongnu over and over again without progress.

As they talked, Shen decided to have a little internal debate himself. He laid out the facts before him. The Xiongnu were an army of wolves and gorillas led by Donghai Khan. They had raided the Imperial Army's secret military equipment base far off from the Great Wall, and are near approaching the Wall at this point in time. The Xiongnu had a thousand ravaging wolf and gorilla warriors. They had brute, strength. But luckily they are not moving as fast, much thanks to the smaller defences built outside the Great Wall, which should hold them off for a while. But Shen knew that the Xiongnu would get past them eventually anyway, so a concrete army is needed to stop them.

China had the best warriors from Oogway and Kai's army, but they were now lying in ruins. Only the Imperial Army was left as its hope, and the Imperial Army had long since been out of the battlefield ever since Oogway and Kai reigned the land as its warriors and claimed all battles with their triumph. The Imperial Army had been inactive for years, but now that the great warriors are gone, the responsibility immediately befell on them. So, they had the ill-numbered and weakened Imperial Army, second-tier to Oogway and Kai's army. China had nothing else. And, usually if there was nothing else, it had always been Shen's maxim to make something else. Force it out of his mind if he had to. The young lord's brain cooked up all the possibilities in his mind, thinking hard.

He presented himself with two questions.

What did the Xiongnu have that China didn't? To that, Shen had an immediate answer. Strength. Numbers. Brutality. The glory from having defeated Oogway and Kai. With these, the Xiongnu obviously had the winning hand.

And, what, in turn, did China have that the Xiongnu didn't?

…It took him several moments to think about it. Shen could not even come up of an advantage that China could have against these dangerous brutes. They had numbers, yes, but skilled, professional warriors…? Almost all skilled warriors had been sent along with Oogway and Kai, but had been defeated nonetheless. And there was not enough time to train new recruits into perfection. China was doomed.

It was not a very promising thought.

He thoughtfully picked on his leafy meal as he pondered these questions for a bit. He let everything pass through the thorough 'Will it work?' filter on his mind, disposing those ideas which were of no use and entertaining those which had possibilities.

And his thinking paid off.

Something suddenly occurred to Shen. It was a colossal thought. This was the moment that all of history's greatest masterminds crave for—the moment when raw intelligence bears actual fruit. His eyes widened, crest feathers rising in zeal.

It was the inkling of an idea. A brilliant idea. He tried to contain his excitement by taking a smooth sip of his tea, gulping down that excess emotion of exhilaration along with it, before he decided to take the plunge.

He cleared his throat loudly enough, eager to present it.

The Emperor and Lord Lì stopped talking and looked at him.

"I have a suggestion," he proclaimed, pleased by the listening silence. "Let us not focus on the Xiongnu. Let us focus on our Imperial Army. My Emperor, with all due respect, your fear of the Xiongnu is interrupting with your thinking capacity that renders your ideas absolutely useless. And, father, sir general, again with all due respect, it surprised me that you are only nodding along to what the Emperor here is saying, when what he's all actually saying is rubbish. You are supposed to be discussing with him, not patronizing him like a loyal lapdog."

The Emperor gaped, not of anger, but more of amazement. He had never met anyone with a personality as strong as this before. 'With all due respect', Lord Shen had said. 'With all due respect'? What kind of respect was this? Surely, only a person with a mind strong enough would be able to deliver these words out of his mouth in front of his imperial highness himself.

His father's reaction, however, was not as royally astonished. Upended, insulted, and displeased were better terms. Lì's crest feathers tightened and he glared at his son. This was the one thing that he had always feared about whenever he brought Shen with him during private dinners with other sectors of imperial China. Sometimes Shen may get too snappy and rude to the people around them, complaining to him all the way home about how hard it is to put up with people 'of lower intelligence', as Shen often collectively called them.

"You are saying then, young lord, that it would be wise not to talk about the Xiongnu?" said the Emperor when he finally caught back his tongue. "Knowing one's enemy is important in formulating battle tactics, to know how to use their strengths and weaknesses to our advantage."

Shen gently put his cup down onto the table with a soft clink. "Important, yes. But I am afraid that it is not more important to knowing thyself. Our own army is our priority here. We lack men. Soldiers. Weapons. And since the enemy has all of them, we need to counter it with our own numbers." He opened his eyes and laced the primary feathers of his wings, elbows propped up on the table. He let his intent red gaze land onto the old fox's impressed ones. Apparently the Emperor was not used to being lectured by someone most definitely younger by him in decades.

The Emperor decided to test him. "But it is important to know thy enemy, young lord. The philosopher, Sun Tzu, had stressed that if you do know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory you gain, you will also suffer defeat."

But Lord Shen, being the noble son of a martial, had been a fond reader of Sun Tzu's philosophical books himself. "True, Emperor, Sun Tzu had said that." He smiled slyly, knowing fully well that he was only being tested by the old fox. "But he had also said that if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

The Emperor, impressed and satisfied, sat back in his chair with a smile. "You have gained my respect. I am listening."

Lì tried to interrupt. "But, my emperor, I had already prepared a plan on my own—"

"And yet your son seems to have fresher ideas," finished the Emperor. "Listen to him, Lì." He passed him a deep, knowing look. "For once."

Lì gulped down a retort. Shen blinked, surprised of the tone of voice that the Emperor had used when he talked to his father. It was almost as if the old fox knew their entire father-son relationship story, which, of course, with the paranoid brain inside his head, sent a chill up Shen's long spine.

"Now, Lord Shen," said the Emperor, yanking him back to reality. "Enlighten me."

Shen cleared his throat and presented his ideas.

"If you say, then, that Masters Oogway and Kai's armies haven't survived against the enemy," Shen spared a brief, apologetic glance over at his father, "then our Imperial Army, led by my father here, General Lord Lì, whose soldiers are mostly old and even less skilled, would have no chance. We have to get new recruits. Penitentiaries should be emptied. We could use the manpower of the prisoners to China's own victory, instead of letting them go to waste behind bars. And men. I say, General, Emperor, that one man from every family must serve in the Imperial Army. That must increase our numbers. Captains should be promoted and drill sergeants assigned. No family is exempted."

"All families should offer one man?" challenged the Emperor. "And leave their children fatherless, their wives as widows, should they die in battle? China would be left with nothing if they all d—"

Shen's red eyes sharpened. "They would die in honour."

The Emperor managed to summon a smile. "You have the willpower, young lord." The smile then disappeared. "But I could not possibly sacrifice the blood of my people who haven't even had enough time to train. This is unfair for them."

Shen had the urge to slap on the old red fox's face and shout, Are you an idiot, old man?! Because, honestly, this emperor thought too much of his people's safety this and his people's safety that, that he wasn't thinking straight, as a mastermind should be. He was too…soft-hearted. Shen could not see this weakling fit as China's emperor, so that must be why he needed the general to assist him. He was a peace-loving leader, unaccustomed to war, since all these years he left that job to Oogway and Kai. And, now, look how it turned out: in times of distress, he could not even make battle plans of his own. Shen had the feeling that the Emperor had once been a masterful tactician, but that skill had been worn off by the years since Oogway and Kai came along to steal all the opportunities of sharpening it. Those mighty show-offs. They were the reason why his father's Imperial Army had weakened.

But despite his hateful thoughts, Shen kept his patience. Disgusting as it was to admit, Shen was lower a nobility than the imperial Emperor before him. So, instead of calling him an idiot like he does to everyone else, the white peacock drew out a long, patient sigh.

"Emperor. In battle it is natural to sacrifice. It is better than for us to lower our flag and surrender. So we fight. And charging to battle naturally comes with blood and death. We shouldn't even be arguing about this." He looked at him straight in the eye. "As much as possible, I want this conversation ended. We need concrete action, and I wish to participate in it, as to continue my father's legacy."

"Legacy?" Lì piped up. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"General Lord Lì, with your permission, I am going to train the new recruits," Shen said boldly. There was without even a hint of a waver in his regal voice, crest feathers standing high up, a ghost of a smile giving a touch of light on his dark, serious expression. He looked straight into the eyes of his shocked father, but Shen held it. Firmly. "Appoint me as one of your captains. I am ready to face battle."

Stunned silence followed that statement. After all, it was not every day when you heard a young novice like the young Lord Shen announce that he was going into battle against a brutal army. This idea was crazy. It was suicide.

And, apparently, with the shock written all over Lì's face, he did not like it.

Shen had, of course, expected this reaction. But he maintained calm, even looking a bit arrogant as he let a smirk grace his lips.

"Present your arguments, please. I am ready."

The Emperor could do nothing but sit back there and watch, admiring this young man's courage.

Lì eventually worked up the voice to speak. "Shen. No. I am not allowing you this. You can't yet face battle—"

"Why? Because I am weak?" Shen had been playing this 'because I am weak' card on his father for years. For all his bravado, it was Lord Lì's weakness, and Shen was a master when it came to the art of manipulation. "Is it because I am sickly since childhood, that I am not worthy to follow in your footsteps, sir general? Father, I have been studying the philosophies written on the art of war, and I'd hate for that to go to waste. The Xiongnu are Fresh tactics are waiting to be unveiled, and I believe I can help in making China rise in victory." He looked into his father's eyes. "You do believe in me, don't you?"

Lì looked troubled. He had, after all, just gotten out of a fight with his son, and he didn't want to be the one shattering that last shard of fragile relationship they had left by staring into those red eyes, demanding him, pleading him to agree—but then destroying it by saying 'no'.

Meanwhile, Shen held his red gaze. He was manipulating his own father, he knew that. And that all he'd said were lies. No, he didn't care about bringing China victory, he didn't care about the Xiongnu burning the entire land into ashes, he didn't bloody care about anything. But this was the only way. The only way to prove to everyone that...

A faded memory flashed through his mind. He remembered that time when peasant children cowered in fear before him. Bad omen.

He remembered Lady Lan-Niu's face as she stared at him in horror. Monster.

He remembered his father looking at him with utter disgust. Disgraceful son.

He remembered them all.

Shen clenched his wings, eyes burning with hate, and anger, and determination.

…winning this battle was the only way to prove them all that they were wrong.

"You do believe in me," Shen repeated, but in lower volumes. "Don't you, father?"

"I…I do, son. But…" Lì looked uncertain, and that was saying something. He was General of the Imperial Army, for heaven's sake. "Don't you think that training the new recruits is too much work for a novice? For you?"

"Do you really think that lowly of me?" Shen was indignant. "Me? Novice? Father, this is the reason why you have been bringing me to military training and kung fu lessons ever since I was young. You said it is a way to protect myself, and my people, when time comes. And here is an opportunity. It is time to put me to the test."

The mighty General of the Imperial Army was brought to speechlessness.

"But you—I—we—"

The Emperor stroked his beard wisely as he looked over at Shen. "It would be wise, Lì, if you appoint him as junior captain."

"What? No, I am—no. No, your excellency, I am not sacrificing my own son."

Sacrificing? Shen thought. His father talked as if he was going to die. Of course Shen would not let that happen. Shen would throw his own soldiers into the battlefront if it could buy him time to flee for his life. After all, Shen was a royal, and his royal blood is worth more than all of those smelly cretins' combined.

But what came out of his mouth was a much nobler statement. "I am willing to die for China, your imperial highness, but that I cannot achieve honour for our empire if General Lord Lì, my father, keeps on hindering me because of his paternal worries. Understand that this is a war. Feelings are irrelevant. Command my father to appoint me as captain."

"Shen!"

"Hush, Lord Lì. Your son wants to die in honour, and he is determined to serve the empire by training several of the new recruits."

"The Imperial Army could do it," said Lì, who tried to keep his voice steady, although desperateness still managed to creep in. "Please, emperor. We won't need new recruits. Shen won't need to be sacrificed and d—I mean, he wouldn't have to contribute anything. I believe that I, as General of the Imperial Army, could defeat the Xiongnu. We could manage with our current resources and we wouldn't need more undertrained soldiers. We wouldn't need more. Please, Emperor, my son could not see battle—"

"Whyever could he not?" demanded the Emperor in a strong voice. "A single grain of rice can tip the scale. One man may be the difference between victory and defeat."

Lì was still colossally overwhelmed with the idea that he was going to battle the Xiongnu along with his son, but he nodded at the Emperor anyway, albeit stiffly.

Shen, however, had a satisfied smirk on his face, the kind where one thought that he might be planning something else, something far, far more devious, aside from the one which is already apparent. Lì shook his head at him. It was as if Shen throwing himself into a pit of fire to be left there to suffer the infernos for eternity had been the smartest idea that the young lord had had in a long time.

The Emperor stood up, the private dinner session apparently over. "Guiren!"

A pig scribe who had been hiding in the shadows all this time immediately scuttled over to him. "Yes, your majesty?"

"Spread out all over China and send conscription messages to each and every family," he said, determination in his eyes. "I have decided that every man from every family must serve in the Imperial Army." He looked at Shen pointedly, sharing a smile with him. "No exceptions."

oO0Oo

It so happened that this private dinner with the Emperor had happened three days ago. By this time, Guiren's messengers from the Imperial Palace are actually already nearing their way to Songzhi—the humble place where Huang Mulan lives.

oO0Oo