July 2nd (Day 7, Dusk)

Mushu and Grandmother Fa stand in the ancestral temple as the head ancestor appears to them, "I hope you have good news. That last report was rather concerning."

Mushu stays silent as Grandmother Fa informs, "Li Shang has come back, and his attempts to make my grandchild eat have been more or less successful."

"Well, that's good. I think." The ghost rubs his chin, as he sees Mushu practically hiding behind the grandmother's blue dress. "You're awfully quiet. Tell me. What's the bad news?"

The small dragon pretends to laugh, "Problem. What makes you think there's a problem?" He sees his superior's irritation and breaks down into tears. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried. She's been crying every day, and she's just been so— so—"

"Sad?"

"Sad and anxious and angry, and not even at the world but at herself." He becomes frantic and moves his arms around. "I tell her not to look at her reflection, but she doesn't listen and just does. It's like she's expecting something to change, and I'm just so worried for her."

The blue apparition gives a bored look, "And how have the parents responded?"

Mushu yells, "They're acting like it's not even happening." He takes a breath in an attempt to calm down, but it doesn't work. "They just tell her to do things, expect her to do them, and if she doesn't, then they sit her down for the same lecture they always give her." He laughs with a pang, "They're not helping her at all. It's just so— so—"

"Unbelievable." The head ancestor nods, "I agree. If what they're doing has not helped yet, then there's no reason for them to believe it to work in the future." He takes a thoughtful breath. "Remind me, why is Mulan in so much distress?"

"I don't know. She just doesn't like herself."

The grandmother elaborates, "They're not comfortable with their body or role in society."

"Well, role," responds the ancestor. "That's easy. Let's just let her continue to ride her horse or use the sword, or whatever other activity she's interested in."

Grandmother Fa hesitates with concern, "I'm afraid their parents aren't allowing it."

The ghost moans, "Oh, why are the living so senseless?" He crosses his arms while still holding the intangible staff. "I understand a woman needing to fulfil her duties as well as any being, but don't these people realize that's not going to happen if she's dead?"

Mushu mumbles, "Yeah. They should. Not sure if they really care."

The old woman turns her head down on the dragon, but she pretends to respond to the head ancestor, "I don't think my son or his wife want to believe this is happening. I think they're hoping that with enough instruction the behaviors will go away."

The apparition shakes his head, "You don't hope for behaviors to go away. You hope they never develop in the first place." He gives a thoughtful look. "So, activities appear to be out, but what about her body. I know I said we don't have that type of power here, and we don't, but we have to come up with something." The grandmother nods in agreement. "What about that outfit Mushu refused to burn?" He sees Mushu squirm while wearing a giant, fake smile. "Does that help with her body issues? I hear that she seems happier when she wears it."

Grandmother Fa takes a sad breath, "It does seem to help them, but their parents are beginning to reinforce feminine dress as well. I'm not sure if it's something they would even be able to get away with during the night. I feel like they're being watched more closely now."

Mushu folds his arms, "Yeah. This morning was a disaster. Her mother came in without a warning, and she even asked who Mulan had been talking to." He huffs and is surprised by the fire that escapes his breath. "That almost ended in disaster."

The head ancestor ignores the small guardian, "Is it possible for her to wear it to sleep?" He pauses in stress. "I realize it may not be the same, but at least it would be something."

The grandmother nods, "I'll have to suggest it to them."

The ancient ghost unfolds his arms, "I hope it helps. We need her alive and well."

Grandmother Fa nods before looking over the rest of the headstones, "Could I possibly speak with my son and husband? I miss them so."

The old man takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, but there are rules. You're not allowed to see or speak with them until after your passing."

"That's a pile of—" Mushu literally gets kicked out of the temple by the spirit. "Rocks. I'm in a pile of rocks." He stands from the rubble of the stone dragon. "Well, that hurt."

The spirit continues, "I'm sorry, but rules are rules. I can't allow it." The grandmother nods in sorrow, before she leaves the temple.

Fa Thang comes out of his gravestone, "You could have let me speak to my mother. It seems like it's been forever."

He looks down on the decapitated man, "Sorry, but rules are rules."

"Yeah, and they're whatever you decide them to be."

The head ancestor floats above the other ghost as he's filled with rage, "You got to see her from that little stone of yours. That's enough for now. You can speak to her when she's dead."

Fa Qiang moves his son away from the argument, "Now, let's calm down. She's not going to live forever. We will see her again."

"So, you want her to die?" Fa Thang shakes his head, "Is life that unimportant to you, that so long as your needs are met death is okay?"

"No. Of course, not. I only meant—"

"You only meant that things will be okay again." He huffs. "Look around you. We're dead. I'm dead. Nothing's ever going to make that okay."

The father hesitates, "I don't understand why you're yelling at me. You're a casualty of war. It's not like I caused your death."

"Didn't you?" spouts his son. "You and that foolish dragon." Fa Qiang stays silent. "In a way, you're almost worse than him. He may have given me misguided advice, but you sent me to that war in the first place. If it weren't for you, then I'd still be alive." He quietly laughs, "And if I were alive, then I could have had sons and our title wouldn't be in so much risk. This is your entire fault. If it weren't for you, then our family would be prosperous and well, but thanks to you our title may not survive now."

The father calmly explains, "You were the strongest man in our family. Someone had to go. I thought I had made the right choice. I thought if any of us could survive, it would be you."

Thang shakes his head, "Why? Because my name means to triumph? It didn't exactly turn out that way, did it?"

Qiang looks down in stress, "I picked you, because you were strong. Your name should have given you confidence, but I didn't send you because of that."

He shouts, "You sent the wrong son." Thang sees his father's shock. "War isn't just about brute strength. It's also a battle of wits and quick thinking, neither of which I truly ever had." He narrows his eyes. "I may have made a poor magistrate if you had sent Zhou instead, but at least I would be alive. I could have continued our lineage and made us prosperous, while he could have brought glory to his name and our family's title." The tall man sinks to the floor in thought, "You chose the wrong son." and looks up to see his father's sad expression. "Our family line may end, and it's all your fault."

Qiang floats down to the floor as well, "How was I supposed to know this would happen? I'm not a god. I can't see what the future holds."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't take a historian or mathematician to realize that war isn't just a physical fight." He looks up in disappointment, "You've been to war. You should have realized that, and you should have made the right decision." Thang removes his head and places it in his lap. "You were supposed to be a magistrate. Do you give bad advice to everyone, or only those in your family?"

Fa Qiang takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry. If I knew what I know now, then I would have chosen differently, but I can't." He moves his hand down his mustache to his boat-like jaw, "I just want things to be okay between us. Tell me what I can do to fix this."

Thang stands, "Like you said, you can't go back. This can never be fixed." before he places his head back onto his shoulders.

Qiang watches as his son drifts away, but he stands as his own father comes over to him. "At least you were able to get a word in. That's the best conversation you two had in a long while."

"I suppose so." He sees the bags under his father's eyes, which seem to emphasize his tiredness. "What about you? Are you getting along any better with Mother?"

Fa Sheng takes a deep breath as he shakes his head, "I'm just not the man she wanted me to be."

"Well," Qiang almost laughs. "Hard labor doesn't make a man."

"Yeah. Neither does cooking, which is something I insisted on doing regularly."

His son smiles, "Well, I don't blame you. She wasn't exactly the best at it."

"Right." Sheng looks across the temple and sees his wife scornfully looking at him, before he turns back around with a shudder. "I just never really understood." He sees his son's slight confusion, "I mean, I know it's important for men and women to carry out their different duties, but what does cooking have to do with it? I mean, we all eat. Shouldn't we all know how to cook?"

Qiang gives his father a thoughtful look, "I never really thought about it before, but you do have a good point. It's not like women are in the army anymore, so it is something we have to learn eventually. Why don't we learn earlier, or why should it be more important for women to learn it? Like you said, we all eat, so why is it only important for women to learn to cook. That doesn't really help us."

"Exactly my point. This is going to end up getting us all killed." His son's eyebrows rise. "If we're in a place, such as the army, where there are no women, then we will end up dead. Forget about whatever enemy we're facing. If we don't know how to cook, wash clothes, or mend materials, then we're already done for. With how things are, we wouldn't survive a day without them."

"Except that we have before." Qiang laughs, "You're being a little dramatic, don't you think? You don't need the best cooking or sewing skills to survive. You just need to know the basics, and those are pretty easy to figure out." He shrugs, "Or at least they are for those who are resourceful, and with so many men someone ought to be."

"Right." Sheng takes a calming breath. "I don't know what I was thinking. If things are this way, then there's probably a reason for it."

"Well, of course there's a reason for it. Confucius was a smart man. He may have saved us all." His father doesn't respond, and tension seems to stem between them. "I'm going to see if I can get a decent conversation out of Mother."

"Right," replies Fa Sheng. "I think I will just—" He motions to his stone. "I think I'm just going to sleep or something."

"Okay. You do that."

Sheng pulls at his long, medium-grey beard as he watches his son awkwardly move away. The silence seems deafening as the other beings seem to stare, so he hides within his tombstone. I feel so stupid. Why did I have to bring it up? I see how highly everyone considers family roles to be, so why don't I just keep my mouth shut? It's not that hard. If you don't understand something, then just don't talk about it. It's just that easy. Ugh. I'm such an idiot.

- Poor ghostie is being too hard on himself. Don't worry. You'll all move on... eventually.