By Pooky
Chapter Three:
Martial arts practice was nothing to take lightly, not after two weeks of a fairly seditery life in the house. But Mulan did her best too keep up with the more practiced men. Within a half hour, she was knocking them down and holding her own. She paired off with Yao eventually, who was good but not a challenge and oddly enough did not take it as a personal failure if he lost. Fist fights were more to his tastes, and firing cannons.
Shang and Tai-shan were both shirtless and sparring enthusiastically, rolling on the ground while the soldiers around them cheered them on. She thought she even saw coins changing hands over the outcome of the fight. Mulan was sure both of them were doing nothing more than showing off. She was unsure if she was happy or not when Shang did not turn to ask her to join, some of their matches at camp had been legendary, but as at ease as he was with the elite soldiers around him, he did not seem to have time or thoughts for her. For the last half hour of the practice, Mulan simply folded her arms and watched over her sparring troops. Shang was right, she thought sadly, she did not belong here.
When it was finally over, Mulan rushed back to her tent before anyone could stop to talk to her - not that they would. The sun burned at a high angle over the camp, the heat of the summer afternoon was intense here, much more so than Wu Zhong farther west. Locking her door, she changed into a fresh pair of training clothes, washing her hands and face quickly. It was a relief to be able to do these things in the privacy of her own room, she did not even want to remember the troubles she had gone through to take a bath at Wu Zhong. Here all she had to do was order a tub brought to her, that's if she could stomach the embarrassment. She was a general of the Tang empire, she had to remember that, no matter what Shang had to say to her today.
It was almost absent mindedly that she began untying her hair and brushing it smooth, using a bit of water to tame the stray locks, arranging with an unusual meticulousness the single bang over her forehead. Mulan was neither vain nor negligent of her appearance, she made an effort to be clean and tidy, but did not tarry long to dab on make-up or try new hair styles - though she could appreciate her looks with these things. Today she lingered an extra few moments before the mirror, wondering if she was pretty, or more importantly if Shang thought her pretty. Never in her life would she admit to anyone now that she was attempting to make herself especially pretty for him. That was silly, it wasn't as if he had invited her for a stroll in the garden, as she had seen some of the other men with the pretty young ladies at the Palace. She was not a pretty lady - not in that sense, and this was the great military camp, the most romantic thing that they could safely engage in here was a midnight spar. Even that seemed vaguely scandalous, considering all the eyes upon them.
Having had enough of this self torture, Mulan left her quarters, squared her shoulders and stalked down the hall to find Shang. The door was left open, and she could see him clearly in an amber pool of lamplight, bent over the desk and scratching with brush and ink on the paper before him. He did not even hear her come in, he was so intent on his thoughts. leaning his cheek against one hand as he wrote, sighing, with eyes narrowed and sad. Stacks of paper stood on the desk beside him, documents and books, ignored all together as she was now. She wondered if she should leave, intruding on a mood which seemed so intense and private, so melancholy. Leaning closer, she watched his hand travel across the page, steady and strong, the characters small and refined, printed with an almost artful flourish. Mulan smiled to herself.
"Oh," he looked up at last, blinking as though not realizing where he was. "Why didn't you say you were... Nevermind," Setting the brush down he sighed, burying his face in his hands a moment. "I'm so tired."
"Shang," Mulan stepped closer in concern. "Are you alright?"
Straightening, he shifted the papers around on the desk. "Yes. It's just that I have five thousand men to look after and now an estate with four women. The four women are the most difficult, you can't give them orders, it's a waste of time." He said this with a bit of a smirk. Mulan folded her arms defensively, she had tried to obey him as her commander.
"You have three sisters?" She asked in naive confusion.
He shook his head. "My father has three widows, but my mother is First Wife and left to squabble with the other two. Tie-lin sends me letters. telling me how they fight over money and land. One of them wants to remarry, but my uncle won't let her break her vow as a widow. The other lost her son in childbirth last month, Tie-lin says. It's unfortunate to lose a little brother, but almost a blessing. She is only Third Wife, and if she had my father's son and rose to position, Second Wife would be displeased. Growing up in that house, I swore to myself if I must have a wife, she will be my only wife. I want a peaceful household." Truly, he was the moodiest person she had ever met. Earlier he had yelled at her, ignored her, and now he was pouring out family troubles, even stranger considering he had not mentioned his family at all during the first war. Moody and unpredictable.
Still, Mulan felt relieved and did not know why. It wasn't as if they were betrothed. She had heard of wealthy men forsaking their first loves for dozens of concubines and playthings. It was the worst thing about the prospect of marriage, how other woman saw it as her failure if a woman's husband took a lesser wife. Failure to bear sons, failure to please him, to be beautiful enough. It was all very unfair. Women were forced to seek status by closeness, so a woman must squabble and compete for her husband's attention, lest she be cast aside and unprotected.
"I thought Tie-lin was married?" Was all she said.
"Not yet, betrothed. She and Shan will be married when we come home." His expression turned a trifle mocking. "Our precious Tie-lin, men would fight wars for her."
She felt a pang of envy at the clear affection he had for his sister, wishing he would turn it upon her instead. "Maybe I should leave so you can write back to her and settle your family affairs." Without waiting, she turned towards the door.
He rose to his feet.
"Mulan."
She stopped in her tracks, there was no way out of this. Swallowing, she tried to face him bravely, reminding herself of her rank. No matter how tall and imposing he was, she was his equal now.
"I know you're angry at me for embarrassing you earlier." He started to protest but she continued. "Really, we meant no harm. I will try to remember to be more dignified in the future."
He folded his arms. "I wasn't angry at you."
Surely, she hadn't heard him right. "What?" she blinked.
Sighing, he walked around the table until he was an arm's length of her, almost head and shoulders over her and authoritative even in the plain green and tan training clothes. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, short, thin and without any of the endowments known to impress a man. His gaze made a fine point of the essential problem in her life, no matter what she was expected to be - at the Matchmaker's, or on the battlefield - she simply did not measure up.
"Mulan," he began in this careful scolding way, as if she were the cherished Tie-lin. How dare he treat her with the same over protectiveness as Marshal Yu, she was not a relative! "Aren't you concerned with your reputation?" Looking away uncomfortably, he added. "As a woman."
"What do you mean?" She was suddenly wary.
"Marriage, Mulan," as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't stay in the army forever. Men talk, and you are under a lot of scrutiny. You have to be careful, should your reputation be harmed, it would dishonor your family."
Of all the things she expected to hear from him, this was the last, she had expected mess duty for a week or something of the sort. In the middle of his family troubles, and this war and possible treason, he had time to worry about her reputation as a maiden? He had no qualms about leaving her cold, wounded and alone in the mountains. She was utterly confounded, unable to decide whether his concern should flatter her or not.
"Well I already said I'll try to behave with more dignity," she wished that didn't sound so sulky.
Drawing a deep sigh, he paced a few steps to and fro, as if debating how much of what he wanted to say was prudent. "But it isn't you. Mulan," he turned to face her, his eyes as serious as ever. "You heard what Marshal Yu said, I'm responsible for your safety, and if he hadn't I would still feel that way. In order to protect you and your family's honor, I order you to inform me of any soldier who might endanger that. If I see any, he will have to be punished, for your sake, even and especially your friends. That means no hugging, no close contact aside from military practice and what is necessary. Agreed?"
She just stared at him, unable to believe his unspoken implication that because her friends were peasants they were less moral, less capable of restraint than high born men like Marshal Yu and Tai-shan. And Tai-shan had wondering eyes around the men, but he did not seem the least bit interested in her. She supposed Shang could not help the snobby indoctrination of his upbringing.
"And who am I supposed to marry, Shang?" she demanded, curbing her anger but not hiding it completely.
Meeting her eyes briefly, he spoke in the same chiding tone. "Don't make me remind you how be-" He cleared his throat. "How brave and famous you are. You would no doubt be sought after."
"I'm not her," she gestured towards the letter on his desk. "I'm not a prize, you know, the Matchmaker hates me."
His brow arched in confusion and curiosity. "What happened, Mulan?" he asked calmly.
"I don't want to talk about it," her cheeks were already warming, but he would not look away. "How would you like it if someone whose judgment matters so much screamed in front of the entire village that you would never be worth anything/"
Again, he laughed at her. She failed to see what it was about her that amused him so. "Expect nothing and you cannot disappoint. They expect the world of me. I would love the freedom of having no one's hopes weighing on my shoulders." Mulan swallowed and looked down, he had made her feel petty and silly.
"You are right," she conceded with a smile. "But I still don't want to get married."
Smiling a little, he stood only a few inches apart from her, his eyes softened. "Haven't you heard the saying 'Heaven and earth shall unite and sweet dew will fall?'" A strange yet warm feeling fluttered her stomach, her cheeks were really flaming now.
The only safe thing to do was change the subject.
"Shang, how do you really think the Huns knew your father's troops were at the Pass?"
Glancing around him nervously, he sat back in his chair. "A question no one wants to answer," he said softly, and then more quietly, "least of all me."
Without thinking, she covered his hand with hers, only to comfort him at first. But he let her hand slip in his, small and delicate as he curled his fingers around hers, watching her face. It was only a brief and subtle gesture, yet it brought both of them to silence. Mulan returned his gaze, telling herself there was no need to be nervous, he was only holding her hand.
"You know we're leaving tomorrow," he spoke at last. "We have a hundred things to do."
Nodding, Mulan drew away, smiling to herself as she turned toward her
own quarters back down the hall.
