The Mind's Journey Home
AUTHOR: Chata Saladbar
Chapter 3: Dinner
His attempts to keep himself awake all night to escape the shadows that visit his sleep allow him to travel fast. When he arrives at Mulan's village he is sure he had beaten her and the messengers. He only draws curious stares as he walks pass the numerous small markets chaotically displaying wooden crates of fruits and vegetables. Further down men and women crouch behind their makeshift stalls, selling whatever they can. He pauses buy a bath and a shave, and only to asks for directions.
Entering the Fa grounds he sees that they are of some wealth. The gardens, statues and buildings are a smaller version of his own residence. Their relative smallness allows them an intimacy and feeling of warmth his home never had.
He sees two older women waiting anxiously by the gate. He can tell by the similar features that the younger of the two must be Mulan's mother, a beautiful woman with dark hair symetrically streaked with gray on each side. She displays an air of elegant authority much like his own mother did before she became sick. The other woman was tiny and old with a deeply creased face and large soulful eyes. She must be Mulan's grandmother. Both women seem shocked beyond words when he asks them if this is where Mulan lived. They only silently point towards the inner garden.
In his nervousness he only could see the old General, Mulan's father. Soldiers and Generals he is used to, he had grown up around them his whole life. Gaining some confidence he starts to address him, "Honorable Fa Zhou.." he begins the speech he prepared.
"Mulan!" he almost exclaims when she appears behind her father. He had almost forgotten how what a rare beauty she is, and the reality of her presense punches him in the stomach so hard it makes him forget his own language. He catches the scent of her, clean and floral. It makes him recall with perfect clarity of every moment he has known her; even Ping smelled like that. She looks shocked to see him.
"You forgot your helmet" he tells her, thrusting the metal object awkwardly in front of her, "or rather it is YOUR helmet, isn't it? -- I mean..." he adds turning hastily the the old soldier.
He isn't fooling anyone. The father and daughter exchange glances in a way that makes him ache not only for his own father, but for the similar secret language between parent and child he never shared with his.
Mulan moves closer to him taking the helmet gently from him and hugs it. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" Her voice is calm and confident.
"Would you like to stay forever?!" He hears the grandmother yell from the distance. He smiles and automatically feels a certain affection for the old woman. Mulan grins and shakes her head slowly at her grandmother. She shows nothing but amusement for her and none of the easy embarassment one would expect.
He is able to regain some confidence to the timbre of his voice. "Dinner would be great."
***
The family swarm them with questions as they prepare for their meal. He is unaccustomed to being around the hussle and energy of a real family, with all its little arguments, questions and concerns. Instead of feeling uncomfortable he relishes quietly in the warmth of their common familial bonds as the sweet aroma of teas and spices float around the room.
"How did Mulan survive? How did she get the crest of the Emperor? Shan-Yu's sword?" Their curiousity and questions blend together.
Shang has found that in his own experience dealing with parents, it was best to leave out the scary details and discuss only the pertinent information. "It was her shrewd strategies that lead to the fall of the Huns and Shan-Yu." He tells them. "The Emperor justly rewarded her for her brave soldiership and acumen in the fine art of battle. Your daughter is a great hero as no doubt you will find out more details when the messengers arrive soon."
Fa Li lets out a sharp gasp and turns toward her daughter. "You were in battle?! How could you put yourself at such risk? You could have been killed!"
"Mama, as you can see I survived, I was capable, thanks to the Captain's excellent training." She smiles a large, almost mischievious smile, as if she had a lot to prove to her mother. "I wasn't alone, our regiment worked together ... with special help from our ancestors."
Shang opens his mouth to protest but instead nervously flicks at his rice. A beautiful inviting spread of homecooked comestibles lies before him but his appetite remains dulled despite his attempts to muster up a polite and eager palate.
"There will be plenty of time for the complete story." Fa Zhou states calmly, wanting peace at the table. "We are grateful that our daughter is alive and well and that her captain has honored us with his visit. We are celebrating tonight."
"You look tired." Mulan tells Shang. He is touched that she knows him so well, that she is able to tell the subtle distinctions of his condition.
"I had a lot explaining to do to the Emperial Consuls and so now I've been traveling fast to get home and tend to my father's estate." He lies a little, unable to tell her the real images behind his insomnia, or the main motive behind his journey. "My father died fighting Shan-Yu and the Huns," he addresses Fa Zhou, "and I am his only heir. My sister is married and lives further south, so I have to make the preparations..."
"Your father died honorably serving the Emperor." Fa Zhu solemnly tells him.
Shang smiles, though his eyes are somber. He wants to believe that. He really wants to sleep forever on that thought. He has to turn his face away to tell another small lie. He studies the billowing soft curtains at the window before he answers. Their translucency barely diffuses the orange brilliancy of a setting sun. A peaceful dusty orange wraps the room like a warm protecting blanket. But he knows soon blackness will begin to steal the sunbeams and start another dark night on an earth that his father is no longer alive on.
"Thank you sir, I know he did." He finally says. He can not lie good enough to conceal the remorse and bitterness that linger in this thoughts.
"Ah my son, what about your mother?" grandmother asks him. She is studying him with unusual intensity, as if she is reading his mind.
He looks at her for a few beats, trying to decipher what she sees. "She died several years ago."
"I'm sorry." Mulan tells him with the same intonation Ping had used after he learned of his father's death on that bloody mountain. He feels the familiar hurt in this throat tighten.
"Well tonight you will sleep. An Imperial Soldier requires rest and you look like you need lots of it." Grandma rises abruptly and heads toward the kitchen. "I have some special medicinal tea that will bring you slumber. You'll sleep like a stone here in this house tonight."
Shang starts to protest but Fa Zhou raises his palm. "We do not turn away an Imperial soldier. It will honor us if you stayed."
Grandma returns immediately with a different pot. "Drink this now, if you wait until it seeps too much you won't arise until noon! and we have much to talk to you about." Who could ever refuse Grandma? He thanks her with a slight bow.
The warm bitter blend has almost an immediate effect on him, and gives him the courage to look at Mulan (whose face he has been nervously avoiding all evening). He catches her eyes upon him. He tries to suppress a smile, as she attempts to suppress a flush against her skin. Neither succeed. He watches how the tip of her tongue wets the fullness of her lips as she lowers her gaze. Her eyes remain serene, confident and full of life. Had he really blackened one of those large pools in martial arts practice when he had thought she was Ping, a boy? Had really held that lovely face inches from his own as his rough hands wrapped around the collar of that smooth and elegant neck? And why now is there just the artless urge to place his mouth on that smoothness, feel the pulse under her skin against his lips as they travel down to the warm hollow of her throat, that cup between her collarbone, and lingering there, tasting her.
He is drawn out of this revery by a question. Was he staring? "Excuse me?" his words tumble out abruptly, an octave higher than his normal voice.
"Why did you spare her life?" Fa Zhou asks him sternly, but not angrily. "She now stands before you as a woman so you must have known such at some point during your adventure."
He is thrown off balance by the abruptness in which the question was asked. He takes nervous gulps of the opaque liquid in his cup, emptying it too quickly. He looks briefly at Mulan, her eyes are soft, rich as tea, her hands long and pale around her tea cup. If she was anxious for his answer it does not show.
"I-I couldn't, I was angry enough but she had just saved my life, our lives. I didn't feel the Emperor's Laws applied this unique situation." He must tell all of it, leaving out her injury for now, he owed them honesty through this story. "I did throw her out of the army, I left her alone up there on that snowy mountain ... Forgive me Honorable Fa Zhou, I shouldn't have left her, I was horrible." Unable to finish he looks down to see his cup being filled again. He stares at the odd colored tea leaves pressing against the murky swirly surface of the liquid. The strange concoction is already making him feel dizzy. He knows he needs to continue his explanation but is too sadly convinced that everyone in the room now hated him for dishonoring there wonderful daughter and granddaughter.
He did not conceive that the opposite was true. The elders empathize with the hurt emanating from this handsome young son of a General, they see the internal struggle of his heart and mind and the confusion so painted on his guileless face. It is evident he has fallen hard, very hard, for their unconventional Mulan and that he is at a loss with those emotions. He has no father or mother to guide him, and this softens their instinctual paternal and maternal hearts.
"I thank you then for sparing my daughter's life." Fa Zhou rests a kind palm on his shoulder. "Not many commanding officers would tolerate such a deception no matter what the unique consequences. Emperors have been known to cut off the heads of Officers for lesser infractions. Our family owes you much."
"Honorable Fa Zhou, a worthy soldier would take such punishment for the good of their county, for doing what is right. Mulan saved China, she saved the Emperor single-handedly! I only sit here because she exists. Her death could have meant death of all of us. I have done nothing but barely allow a hero to take her place in history."
He stops abruptly because his eyelids suddenly feel weighted with lead and need the help from his fingertips to keep them open. He is overcome with the sensation of weariness and utter vulnerability. Perhaps he had been already too exhausted to have wisely accepted such a soporific beverage.
"How much of your medicinal leaves did you put in there Grandma?" Fa Li asks her mother-in-law with an accusatory expression.
"A lot, but I guess he was more tired than I thought." she answers, feigning innocence.
Mulan stretches her arm out across the table, wanting to touch him. Her soft words wafts across the distance between them. "Shang, it is OK. You did what you felt was right. I am sorry I deceived you and I am grateful f or what you have done for me, allowing me to live and trusting me when I needed it. Together we saved the Emperor, all the pieces had to be in place."
They look at each other for a long moment, each admiring the beauty of the other's stare. The words, the apologies, the unsaid feelings hovers in the space between them. Shang resists the urge to clasp that beautiful benevolent hand. The combination of her tender-hearted forgiving expression, the mysterious tea and the warm inviting family environment make it increasingly difficult to contain his polite composure. His mind continues to instruct him: you need to counter her statement, to say thank-you to her mother for the kind meal and company ... talk about valor and victory to her father ... thank grandmother for the debilitating medicine... He starts to work his mouth, but his phrases get lost somewhere between his brain and the heat leaving in his body. Instead he places a hand on his brow and says aloud what he thought he was only thinking, "I want to finally sleep..."
***