Zhu found it difficult to go back to sleep after learning of Lilitu's daughter. Stuck somewhere in the realm of half-conscious and half-asleep, she was left tossing and turning the rest of the night. Her mind was racing with thoughts of the future: How could she protect her people? How could she protect Umut? Yes, Umut could spare them all any potential pain by simply leaving, but Zhu didn't want to lose her. Nearly losing her once was enough.
She was not going to let it happen permanently.
By the time the sun began to rise and the rest of the world began to wake up, she was only just on the brink of falling back asleep. She could feel her body finally giving in to exhaustion when a familiar pair of arms snaked around her waist, pulling her further into their embrace. Her brows furrowed and she quietly whined in protest.
There was a quiet chuckle as Mundzuc buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I see you're awake," he murmured. He was surprised; usually she would tense up or try to shove him away when he attempted to initiate morning cuddles. This morning, however, she only whined. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I didn't sleep well," she grumbled, pulling her pillow down a bit so she could bury her face into it. "And I was finally beginning to fall back asleep."
He frowned. "Why did you have trouble sleeping?"
She was silent for a few moments. She knew she had to tell him what Mushu said, but something told her it would be best to wait until later—after all, how could she explain to him that a tiny guardian dragon came to her in the middle of the night to give her the bad news? Shaking her head, she sighed, "I will tell you later…when I have gotten more sleep."
Mundzuc's brow rose, though she couldn't see it. "I don't like the sound of that."
"You say that about a number of subjects I talk about," she grumbled. Grabbing the edge of the blankets, she pulled them up closer to her chin. "Let me get at least another hour's worth of rest. Otherwise, I am going to be useless to the world today."
"That's doable," he sighed, pulling away from her. Sitting up, he threw his legs over the edge of the bed before stretching his arms above his head. "Liling will be having mare's milk for breakfast, then?" he grunted, both hearing and feeling as his back cracked in multiple places.
"Yes," she murmured, rolling onto her stomach. Burying her face fully into the pillow now, she also pulled the covers up over her head, essentially cocooning herself from the world. She hoped this would ensure that she got at least a little bit of sleep before she had to face the day.
Sadly, it was not to be.
Barely half an hour passed when there was a knock at the door. Zhu listened as a groggy Roua trudged his way across the yurt and opened the door. Part of her wanted to poke her head out from under the blankets to see who it was, but she also didn't want to let the world know she was still awake.
"Is Queen Zhu awake?" came a voice she recognized rather well.
"Ah, I don't think—" Roua began, glancing over at the bed.
Zhu sat up with a sigh, letting the blankets fall to her lap. "Yes, I am. Please come in, Zoraida." She smiled tiredly, watching as Roua stepped aside to let the woman in.
Seeing that she was still in bed, Zoraida frowned. "I apologize, my queen—I can come back later if you're still resting."
Shaking her head, Zhu threw back the covers. "No, it is fine—I have been awake for some hours." She gave her a reassuring smile as she rose from the bed. "What can I help you with?"
"I wanted to discuss a few things regarding my new position as head of the potters," she answered. When Zhu motioned for her to sit down in a chair, she did such. "I understand you would like for us to get started as soon as possible and, while I already have a handful of people interested in helping me…we are greatly lacking in supplies. We don't have wheels or kilns. Only a handful of us have tools. I don't even know if we have enough space that we could use to let the pottery dry out a bit before firing…"
Zhu nodded. "Yes, I know and I also know that you are wrong about some of those points," she chuckled. "We have kilns. Of course, if need be, more can be made. As for the tools, tell the carpenters what you need and they should be able to help you."
"The wheels, I'm afraid, are going to need a bit more work than some simple wood carving." She brushed a bit of her veil from her face, showing some of her dark sideburns. "But the main thing we will need are flat, rounded plates of stone."
"Hm. Well, I know Ling knows where to find some shale that can be used to make said plates," Zhu said. Her eyes lingered on the tattoos along the center of Zoraida's face. It was common for women of the southern deserts to have facial tattoos; but she had always found Zoraida's to be especially lovely. "How important are the wheels?"
"Rather important if you want us to make jars, pots, and bowls that are even."
She nodded in understanding. "Then I will have Tófi and Ling meet with you and discuss how to make the wheels," she sighed. "Luckily, you will not have to worry about the clay; I remember there being a rather nice supply of it along the western edges of the lake."
Zoraida smiled. "Yes, that is one of the few things we won't be needing to worry about," she chuckled. Her head tilted slightly as she looked Zhu over. "You look exhausted."
"I am."
"Have you been red meats and citrus fruits like I instructed?"
"I have. Mundzuc and Roua make sure of it."
She nodded. "Good, good…But you still look exhausted."
"I did not sleep well last night." She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "It is nothing to get worried about, I promise." A reassuring smile came to her lips.
There was a bit of skepticism on the woman's face as her brow rose ever so slightly. "You know I don't believe you, right?"
Zhu pouted. "You should, because I am telling you the truth."
"As much as I hate to admit it, she is telling the truth." Mundzuc came over, handing Zhu a steaming mug of tea. He offered one to Zoraida, knowing she would be here for a while. "She doesn't tire out nearly as quick as she did a few weeks ago and she's able to go most days without a nap."
Thanking him as he handed her the tea, Zoraida nodded. "Good…That means her blood is almost back to its proper amount." She looked back to Zhu. "And what of your body? Do you still hurt anywhere? Have you noticed anything strange with certain parts?"
She shook her head. "Not really, no."
"Also good." She smiled. "It seems like you're finally getting better." She sniffed the contents of the mug she was handed; it smelled like a citrus tea. "Which is good, considering now that we've arrived here, you're going to be quite busy running the place."
Zhu felt her cheeks turn a bit red as she sipped at her tea. Unlike Zoraida, hers had some milk added to it. "I know. There is so much I am going to have to do…I am lucky to have Roua—" She paused, glancing over at the two men as they went about making breakfast. "—And Mundzuc here to help me."
Zoraida also glanced over at the two men. It was so odd for her to see the men doing the cooking; normally, that was a woman's job. "You also have your friends and family, it would seem. Your mother, especially, seems willing to help you. And the people already know her, so they're more willing to trust her. Most of them, at least."
"Yes…I can see her being a big help if ever I need advice on a problem." She smiled before taking another sip of her tea. "Admittedly…I almost wish she could take my place."
"But she is not Shan Yu's heir—you are." She gave her an uplifting smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you're doing a wonderful job so far. The things Yildiz and Plamen complain about are trivial matters and you shouldn't listen to them."
A quiet laugh left Zhu's mouth. "I am glad you think so, though I cannot help but wonder if the majority think the same as those two."
"And that is why you're already a better leader than your uncle." She leaned forward, resting a comforting hand on Zhu's knee. "But you needn't worry so much."
"Not about my popularity, at least," Zhu told her. "There is so much other stuff I need to focus my attention on. Our food supplies, our medicine supplies, how we'll be surviving the winter…" She shook her head. "My popularity is the last think I am concerned about, to be honest."
"You've already made a good start by breaking everything up into different groups." Shifting in her seat, she brought both her legs up, crossing them beneath her. "You're not forcing people into jobs they don't want or can't do—remember how Shan Yu forced my brother into helping train the younger warriors in horseback archery?" She chuckled. "He hated it so much. He wanted to teach them horseback swordsmanship. But you were too busy with various missions for Shan Yu, so you couldn't teach them."
Zhu chuckled at the memory. "Yes, I remember. He would throw quite the fit afterwards, especially when people were not getting the hang of it." She shook her head. "You brother should have never been put into a teaching position."
"No. He didn't have the patience for it." She laughed before taking a drink of her tea. "His lack of patience is what got him killed…Meanwhile, father's abundance of patience is what got him killed. A bit ironic, isn't it?"
Knowing that Zoraida had little love for her father and brother, Zhu nodded in agreement. "It was clear that neither of them would survive a true battle. For your brother to last as long as he did was some sort of cruel miracle."
"A cruel miracle…" she repeated, a thoughtful look on her face. "I like how that sounds."
Zhu took another drink of her tea, saying nothing in return. Inside, however, she thought about how her second chance at life had been just that: A cruel miracle.
Shang looked up as there was a knock on the door. His brow rising, he stood and went over, opening the door only to reveal Mulan on the other side. She smiled up at him, holding out a bowl of soup to him.
"You missed lunch again," she told him.
"Did I?" A frown appeared on his lips as she nodded. "I'm sorry." Stepping aside, he let her enter the house "I guess I was too absorbed in my work."
As she looked at the table, Mulan saw it covered in various sheets of paper. Some of them were covered in writing while others had small diagrams drawn over them. "Working on coming up with the best ways to defend the village?" she asked with a small laugh.
He darted forward, quickly pulling the papers into a small pile. "Ah…yes," he admitted. "I know Zhu doesn't want to build a defensive wall just yet—and I can't blame her; we don't have the resources—but I thought I would get a head start on trying to design one that would suit our needs." His cheeks were red as he tapped the stack of papers on the tabletop, forcing them into a neater stack.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate the ideas when the time does come to build a wall." Mulan smiled as she set the bowl of soup down on the table. "I'm glad she chose you to help organize the military," she told him, pulling a spoon from her sash. "I mean, I know you're a bit of an obvious choice, but she could have also kept the military entirely Hun and Mongol led."
Taking the spoon from her, Shang kissed her temple. "It's a great honor, that's for certain," he said, a small smile on his lips as he moved to sit down. "And it gives me a chance to learn how the Huns and Mongols protect their people without the use of defensive walls. I would imagine it involves sending out patrols to search the area once or twice a day."
"Perhaps it does." She sat down across from him at the table. "For now, though, you need to focus on eating. You've been getting so absorbed in these little details that you've missed three meals in two days." Her brow rose and a sarcastic smile came to her lips.
He smiled sheepishly before shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. "So, out of all the different sorts of jobs," he said, trying to drive the subject away from him, "which one do you think you may help out with?" He ate another spoonful of soup; it was egg flower soup—one of his favorites.
"I'm not sure yet." She leaned back as she crossed her legs in front of her. "I was thinking of maybe helping Ling with making bricks or helping Su with the farming."
His brow rose. "I wouldn't have expected you to consider those two jobs." Looking down into the bowl, he tried to scoop up as many ribbons of egg as he could. "I thought you would be more likely to go for the textile work or the military work."
She let out a small laugh. "I'm a farm girl, Shang. I'm not exactly made for delicate sewing or for going on patrols." Brushing some hair out of her face, she plucked up one of the papers he had been writing on when she arrived. "I'm more suited to a job that ends up with me covered in sweat and grime."
"Patrolling can leave you like that," he told her, a slight pout making him purse his lips.
Laughing again, she reached over and gently poked his nose. "Don't pout at me," she gently teased. As she looked the paper over, she found it covered by a diagram of a second of wall where a guard tower was positioned. "You know I've always preferred farm work to military work. That being said, if you and—what was his name? Dengitic? Dingizit?"
"Dengizich," Shang corrected.
She nodded her thanks. "That being said, if you and Dengizich need a bit of help as you get started, I'd be more than willing to help. But not forever, mind you."
He nodded. "That would be appreciated. You're more personable than I am." A small smile came to his lips. "The Huns and Mongols will probably take to you quicker than they take me."
Dismissively waving her hand, she set the paper back atop the pile. "They'll like you just fine," she assured him.
"Mulan, barely six years ago, most of these people wanted us dead," he reminded her, his voice dry. "I'm still not entirely sure if they're to be trusted…there are so few of us compared to them—we'd easily be wiped out by them."
She frowned, her brow rising. "There you go, thinking like a pessimist again," she sighed. "No one's going to try to hurt us—least of all under Zhu's watch. Why would they want to hurt us anyway? We're not anyone important."
"Not anyone important? Zhi is the former Empress of China; Ting-Ting, Mei, and Su are the former imperial princesses; you're the woman who killed the great Shan Yu; and I'm the former general of the Chinese army." He shook his head before drinking down a bit more of his soup. "We're a group of fairly important people, Mulan."
"Not anymore," she corrected. "If anything, to them, the only important person here is Zhi. She's Shan Da's widow, after all." Tilting her head slightly, she wore a look of sadness. "We're safe here, Shang. These people are our allies now."
A heavy sigh left his mouth and he allowed himself to lean back and close his eyes. He felt frustrated that Mulan couldn't see the gravity of the situation—but, at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if she was right. Perhaps she did know the precariousness of their lives now, but was merely choosing to look on the bright side of things instead of the darker side?
"I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I am being pessimistic. But I just don't want any of us to wake up and find that one or more of us have been killed all because we're Chinese."
Reaching across the table again, she grabbed his hand and held it. "There will still be biases against us," she told him, "but I don't think any of them will try to harm us. Even if they wanted to, I'm sure they fear Zhu's wrath too much to make any sort of attempt." Letting go of his hand, she stood up. "Anyway, if they want to survive here, they're going to need our help just as much as we're going to need theirs, right?" Circling the table, she kissed the top of his head.
"That is true," he sighed. He looked up at her as she started to head for the door. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to stay with me for a bit?"
She gave him an apologetic smile. "I just remembered I told Ting-Ting that I'd help her scout out some areas that would be good for timber felling." Turning back to him, she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the lips. "I'll have dinner with you tonight, though. How does that sound?"
"That sounds doable. I'll hold you to it, though."
Laughing, she nodded. "Says the one who's been forgetting to eat lunch the last few days."
"Lunch isn't as important of a meal as dinner is, so I'm more likely to remember to eat then," he chuckled. "Have fun tree spotting."
She rolled her eyes, a grin on her lips as she opened the door. "We'll have the hardest time finding the forest through all the trees."
"That was a horrible pun," he snorted, watching as she shut the door.
"Wow…I wasn't expectin' so many people to show up."
"No kidding. I was only expecting five at the most." Ling stood upright and rubbed the back of his neck; he wasn't sure how long he and Yao had been grinding shale down into powder. However long it was, it was long enough to make his neck and back ache.
Turning, he looked at the group of nearly twenty men and women were working away. Some were mixing up the ingredients for clay, others were using the finished clay to form bricks, while a few others were loading up the kilns with firewood so they could be fired later that day. "Can't say I'm disappointed, though."
Yao, his arms crossed over his chest, glanced up at him. "They're already increasin' production by threefold. If more come t' help us, then just think about how much we'll be able t' get done before winter."
Ling chuckled. "We'll need to make more kilns, that's for certain. Especially since we're going to have to share them with the potters. And, from what Ting-Ting was saying, the woodworkers may have to use them sometimes in order to speed-dry wood for their use."
He cocked a brow. "Why can't they just use green wood?"
"Green timber is too limber." He snickered as Yao nudged him with his elbow. "It's true, though: Green timber has more bend and give to it than aged wood."
"Huh. Didn't know that. Makes sense, though—Kind o' like how saplings are more flexible than older trees, right?"
He shrugged. "I guess." He watched as one of the younger Mongols—he could scarcely be older than fifteen—removed the form from a brick only for the clay to sag a bit at the top. "You need to compact them more." Going over, he knelt down. "Here, like this." Taking the form, he carefully set it back around the brick. Then, taking a squared-off piece of wood, he started to tamp down the clay.
"But I was doing that," the teen said, his brows furrowing.
"You were, yes," he replied, glancing up at the man, "but just not quite enough. Do you hear how it still makes a sort of wet slapping noise when I hit it?" He continued to tamp down the clay.
"Yeah?"
"When you've got it compacted enough, it starts to sound more solid. Like this." He hit the clay with the block again; this time, the sound wasn't nearly as squelchy. "Hear the difference?" He did it a few more times to make sure the man could properly hear the difference.
The teen nodded. "Yeah, I do." Watching as Ling removed the form, he saw that the brick now stood perfectly straight and had no sag to it. "Thanks. I'll go back and fix the other bricks now."
Ling gave him a reassuring smile. "It takes a while to get right," he told him. "But you're already doing pretty good. You're even getting the amount of clay right. I've already had to tell the others to add more when they get it tamped down."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "And now that you know how to recognize your error, you can help the others recognize it if I don't catch them." He handed the form and the tamping block back to the teen before standing up. Brushing off his knees, he returned to the table where Yao was still grinding away at pieces of shale.
Yao glanced up at him as he came back. "You're handlin' that well," he commented.
"Handling what well?" he asked, his brow rising. Picking up his grinding stone, he sprinkled some bits of shattered stale on the table. He then started to crush them with the stone.
"Bein' in charge of a group o' people," he replied. "Back when we were trainin' recruits at Moo-Shung, ya weren't so good at it. But now it's almost like you're a natural."
Ling snorted. "I don't think I was meant to be in charge of soldiers," he said. "Do you know how hard it is to teach a kid the proper way to handle a sword when he thinks you're too scrawny to lift the damned thing?" He shook his head. "Here, it doesn't seem like I have that problem."
"I don't know…you're still barely half the size o' some o' these people." He glanced over at the group, watching as a woman in her forties easily lifted one of the boards full of fresh-made bricks. "If anythin' though, your scrawniness puts ya at an advantage: Everyone who sees ya is goin' to underestimate you if ever a fight breaks out."
Again, he laughed. "These are Zhu's people, Yao: If they're half as observant as she is, then they won't be underestimating any of us. Except Chi-Fu, of course."
Cocking his brow, Yao looked up at him. "Huh? How so?"
A wry grin spread across Ling's lips. "They'll underestimate how annoying he is," he snickered.
Yao snorted before looking up. A silly grin suddenly came to his lips, telling Ling that Mei was making her way over to them. "Well, there's the prettiest girl in the whole wide world."
"Oh, you flirt," Mei giggled. As she approached them, Ling saw that she had two folded bundles in her hand. "I've finally finished these aprons for you two! I'm sorry they took so long; I wanted to make sure they were durable and had plenty of places for you to put your tools." Unfolding the first apron with a flick of her wrists, she put a loop around Yao's head before moving behind him so she could tie it into place.
"That's fine," Ling smiled. "I'm sure our clothes are going to appreciate them whether or not they're durable." He leaned over a bit so Mei could put the loop of his apron over his head. "The fact you made them at all is nice. You really didn't have to, you know."
"Oh, of course I did!" she giggled. She stepped behind him, tying his into place as well. "Like you said, your clothes will appreciate it. That, and if you two have these aprons with pockets, you'll have more places to carry things, so you can be more efficient. No wandering around, looking for lost tools…"
Chuckling, Ling cocked his brow. "That is true," he agreed. "I hadn't thought of that, to be honest. Then again, when you told us you were making aprons, I didn't think pockets would be an accessory you'd give us."
"She thinks o' everythin'," Yao grinned. "It's why she's the top seamstress in the known world. Ya don't even have t' ask her t' do something an' she'll have done it for ya anyway just because she knew it'd be a handy thing to have." Standing on his tiptoes, he kissed Mei's cheek. There were a few giggles from the nearby women, but he ignored them.
"You," Mei said, poking his nose with a small grin, "need to stop flattering me so much. You're going to make me get an unflattering ego!"
Yao cackled. "You? Have something unflattering? Love, that's impossible."
She playfully stuck her tongue out at him. "While I'm here, can I get your input on something?" she asked, changing the subject.
"What kind of input?" Ling asked, going back to grinding the shale.
"I'm going to make Zhu a new dress—as a surprise for her, of course. But I don't know what color I should make it."
At that, Yao frowned somewhat. "Ah, love, ya know I'm not so good with colors 'n stuff. 'S why I always stick t' neutrals an' reds."
She sighed. "I had a feeling, you'd say—"
"Pink."
Blinking, Mei looked at Ling. "Pardon?"
"Pink," he repeated, glancing up at her. "Make her a pink dress. I remember she had one before we had to flee China and that it looked very lovely on her." He quietly grunted as he used his grinding rock to break a bit of shale into smaller fragments before looking over at Mei. "Maybe with some darker pink—or even some of that purple you've got." Shrugging, he looked back down at the table.
A grin began to spread across Mei's lips and her eyes widened in excitement. "You're right! Pink is such a wonderful color on Zhu—and it'd make her look like a gentle ruler. Do you have any other recommendations?" she asked.
He felt his cheeks grow a bit warm. "Uh…N-not really," he replied. "Though—maybe something with only a few layers? Anything more than three seems like it'd just make her look a little too bulky."
Mei nodded in understanding, an excited look on her face. "Yes, I agree—I may be able to even just get it down to two layers and a sash," she chirped. "And I still have her measurements from before—Though, I'm going to have to add a few inches to her bust measurement and her hips…Hm." As she started to walk off, she continued to mumbled to herself. "Time to go do some math. I hope I have my abacus somewhere easy to find…"
"Middle drawer o' the dresser on the left!" Yao called after her. He blushed, noticing the look Ling was giving him. "I'm tryin' to help her stay a lil' more organize."
"With all the sewing she does, I'm sure she appreciates it," Ling chuckled.
Yao grabbed his rock and started to grind shale again. "You'd be surprised," he admitted. "Back in China, she had her own way o' organizing. Yeah, it looked like a big ol' mess, but it was the way she kept things organized. But ya know me—I like the sort o' organized that's neat an' tidy."
He nodded in understanding. "So it was actually difficult for the two of you to live together at first?"
"Yeah. We compromised, though. She's allowed to make a mess, but only in one half of the house. The place is so small, if I allowed it all over the house, we'd have nowhere t' eat an' sleep."
"At least the two of you reached a compromise. I don't think most would be able to do that in regards to the cleanliness of a home."
Yao shrugged. "If ya love someone, ya got t' learn to love their faults, too. That means acceptin' their faults an' being willing t' work together in order to meet in the middle."
Ling snorted. "I never thought I'd be getting relationship advice from you," he chuckled. He didn't want to admit it, but Yao's advice was only filling his stomach with a mixture of uneasiness and guilt. "Let alone good relationship advice…"
"Very funny." He raised his brow as he looked over at Ling. "Just keep it in mind, alright? You could think a person is perfect, but everyone's got their faults. Some more 'n others—hell, it's obvious I've got more faults than pros an' somehow, Mei still loves me."
"Which in and of itself is a miracle." He laughed, ducking as Yao threw a shale pebble at him.
That evening found Ling carrying some firewood over to the kilns. Though they had been fed less than an hour ago, he wanted to give them a bit more fuel before calling it a day. Kneeling down in front of the first kiln, he started to shove a log into the hold at the bottom of the kiln, though he quickly had to pull his hand away.
"Good and hot, I see," he murmured with a chuckle, shaking his hand. Using a second log, he pushed the first one further in with it. He added two more logs before standing up to go fetch more firewood. But, as he turned around, he found he didn't have to go fetch more.
Ting-Ting was walking towards him, her arms laden with firewood. "I saw you were feeding the kilns, so I thought I'd help out a bit," she said. Despite the smile on her lips, Ling could see guilt in her eyes and he felt his stomach drop with guilt as well.
"Thanks," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was actually going to go looking for you after this."
Letting the wood drop to the ground, she brushed the bits of bark from her arms and chest. "Is that so?"
"Y-yeah." He felt the uneasy feeling return to his stomach, mixing with the guilt. "We need to talk. About—about us."
To his surprise, she nodded in agreement. "Yes, we do. I think we've needed to talk for a while now, to be honest." She watched as he grabbed a few of the logs to add to the fire of the second kiln.
"We have," he agreed. "I just…don't think either of really wanted to admit it." He looked up at her, a small smile on her lips. "At least, I didn't for a while."
"I didn't either, but…Zhu said I should talk with you."
He chuckled. "She told you that, too?"
She blinked, a bit taken aback by his words. "Zhu gave you advice, too?"
"Just that this is something you and I could only solve by talking." After getting the second fire fed, he stood up again. "So…Let's talk."
"…But where do we even begin?"
"Maybe we should start with how we both feel about the situation?" he suggested, grabbing the last pieces of firewood and carrying them over to the third kiln. "That seems like it'd be a good place."
She nodded. "Right. Well…I feel like we don't really have a spark anymore. I mean, I still enjoy your company, but…"
"It doesn't feel like there's any romance left?"
"…Yes. But—But, at the same time, there are times when it feels like there's still something there. If that makes any sense…"
"It does," he assured her. The guilt and uneasiness began to slowly leave his stomach; it was a relief to hear that she felt the same. "It's beginning to feel like we're together only because it's expected of us."
"Yes! That's exactly it!" she agreed, her eyes widening ever so slightly. "And—And I don't really want to disappoint anyone because they all think we're meant for one another, since Mei and Su lucked out…"
Brushing himself off, Ling gave her a reassuring smile. "Trust me, that is exactly how I feel," he told her. "I mean…there may be a tiny spark left somewhere between us, but…I don't think it's going to grow again." He rubbed his arm. "But that's not to say I don't still want to be friends, of course."
"Oh, of course not." There was a relieved smile on her lips. "You're going to still be one of my best friends. Who else can I make bad puns with?" she chuckled. "Mei and Su roll their eyes at me and Zhu is still learning…"
He chuckled, starting to head back to the houses. "Mulan's pretty good when it comes to puns," he told her. "Shang's told me that she's been making them when it's just the two of them together."
She laughed, her brow rising as she followed alongside him. "Oh no. It sounds like we've corrupted her."
Snickering, Ling nodded in agreement. "It sounds that way, doesn't it?" he grinned. He then rubbed his arm, his expression softening a bit. "Ting-Ting?"
Ting-Ting looked over at him. "Yes, Ling?"
"You were a great first girlfriend." He chuckled, the sound a bit awkward. "You set the bar pretty high for any future girlfriends."
A soft laugh left her mouth and she gently elbowed his arm. "And you were a wonderful first boyfriend," she replied. "It'll be hard to find someone as funny as you." She plucked a stray sliver of wood from her dress. "Might be harder to find someone as handsome as you, too," she added with a chuckle.
He rolled his eyes, grinning. "Please: You've a whole army of Mongols and Huns to choose from. I'm sure at least one of them is a bamboo stalk like me."
