rain9 THE LONG SPELL OF RAIN
By Pooky aka Lian-hua

Mulan had spent hours on her knees in the temple, the events of the previous night refused to flee her thoughts, leaving her no peace. She was crying now, her hot tears like the tiny points of the candle flames against her skin. For hours those tears simply would not stop, just like everything else. One thought pushed its way before all others, gaining precedence in it's stark and morbid uncertainty. Had she really meant to kill Anle? Had it really been an accident? Or had some involuntary part of her moved the sword to ensure that any contact Anle took with the blade would forge a fatal wound?

Anle was a murderer, a traitor, killing in perfect calculation the man who had so affectionately pardoned Mulan for one of the greatest of crimes. It was not as if she did not deserve justice, it was not as if Mulan doubted Taiping. The emperor had been loved, despite his draft campaign, respected deeply by Mulan, even letting her embrace him. Anle had taken that man away to serve her and her mother's ambition. Yet there was one thing Mulan wanted, a confession from Anle, for Shang, to ease his mind after she was executed. Mulan swallowed, she had been hoping the sentence would be left for someone else to carry out. Not her, not Shang, but someone.

The very thought of him made her head throb in pain. He had gone home, to Tai-shan no doubt, leaving her in the Palace with Taiping. The wound was consuming her this time, Mulan had thought they were beyond this, the arguments, the distance. He would not even speak to her. How did he know that she wasn't killed by the rebels, how could he not care? Mulan sighed, as another flood of tears broke afresh. Would he always hurt her? Would his anger forever blind him to her feelings and thoughts? Would she always forgive him? His anger, she could understand it, it was a part of him. But why did he have to take it out on her, blame her, blame Taiping? If she forgave him this, what else would she forgive? Where did it stop, his power over her? And where did her own resistance begin?

There was a rustle of skirts behind her, a new shadow brushed across the temple wall as Taiping knelt beside her. Mulan turned, inclined her head respectfully to the older woman. The Princess' face was as cool and hard as ever, yet dispassionate and bitter at the same time. The two woman sat in silence for a moment, for once Mulan did not mind Taiping's scrutiny.

"Why the tears?" Taiping asked quietly. "Your husband?"

Mulan nodded, wiping her eyes. "It's just like that day in the mountains," she poured out, no reservation, no dignity. "When he found that out I was a woman. He left me there. I had a wound in my side, and he just rode away. I know I had broken the law, but I expected better of him, more compassion."

"He's a man," The Princess chided her gently. "They are all confused little boys with the world on their shoulders, and it kills them. It doesn't mean they love us any less, but their own lives are too much. Li Shang," The name seemed to make her head ache too. "Sometimes he acts as if he were born wounded. Such a proud man, hiding a scared little boy. So afraid he's going to end up like me. But what is he afraid of? He barely knows me." She laughed a bit, forcing Mulan to crack a tiny smile in return.

She hoped Taiping was right, that he had not meant the words he said. Their faith had been broken, his trust in her, hers in him, and just like that day at the Pass. She wondered how would they get past this too? Was there a point where two people held so much hurt between them that love and trust were swallowed by it? Or was there such a thing as mighty love, this thing that poems spoke of, something that was so much stronger than these bitter moments of betrayal and distance. If only he wouldn't run away, if only she didn't always follow him, violating her sense of pride. But he had never asked her to follow him, she had done that all on her own, and that was the most frightening thing of all.

He just needed time to think, she reasoned it out for herself, some time to be alone. But what was there to think about? What was there to decide? Whether he still wanted her or not? All the thinking in the world would not change what had happened last night. She could not imagine that, something that was so horrible he could not stand to be near her, she would never not want to be near him.

"Your Highness?" Mulan was studying the candle flames, the statue of Buddha at the alter, tranquil and all-knowing. What was that like? "Why didn't you cry for Empress Wei? You said she was your friend once."

This time her short laughter held some of the bitterness in her eyes. "Since when did I have time for tears? There is a flood in the south, the people are homeless, there is famine in the west and the people are starving, the villages in the north suffer minor attacks and the people are dying. Everyday I must listen to the advise of the officials on these matters, I must haggle with them to dispatch food and soldiers to help my people. Today I received a letter that my brother will arrive in two weeks to take the throne, at the urging of his son, Li Longji. He is weak, without allies, and not a mind for ruling. He is a quiet, simple man, but he is still a member of the Li family, and perhaps our last hope to keep the Dynasty from crumbling. I have two weeks to prepare the Court, gain him allies and use my influence to see that he ascends the throne smoothly. So you see, I'm too tired for tears."

All Mulan could do was stare at her, her composure, her strength. She was one with her own sorrows, surrendering to them even. It made Mulan think of Tie-lin, who never struggled with anything, floating along with such trust that something, some higher force would show her the way. Mulan had struggled everyday of her life, struggled for acceptance, respect and freedom. There had been harsh consequences, but still it was worth it. But these women, they forgot themselves, their own wishes, their own pain, disregarding it as nothing compared to whatever it was that carried them. The highest excellence is like water. Nothing is so essential to life. Water benefits all things without struggle and abides in places that men hate. Therefore, it is like the Tao. Mulan knew she was kneeling beside the true ruler of China, no matter what man was given the throne, the throne she could have easily seized for herself and the fame that came with it, like her mother. It was Taiping's selflessness that was holding the country together now. That was true integrity, Mulan decided. She wanted so much to be like her.

"Why do you do it? if it hurts you so much?" The question was more out of simple curiosity than anything, a question Mulan had often asked herself. "They'll never let you have the throne, the histories will never record the good things you have done, you said so yourself."

This time, the Princess smiled faintly, just a slight change to that regal face, a hint of affection. "When Shan-yu held the Emperor hostage, and his life was in danger, why did you fight so hard to save him? Even though you were an outcast? Why didn't you leave it to the army and run away?"

That day came back to her, so clear in her mind. She had been at odds with Li Shang, frustrated beyond belief, but giving up had never occurred to her. "Because I felt like I was the only one who knew what to do. I didn't think about it. It had to be done. If I didn't step in..." She shivered a little, the thought of Shan-yu taking over the city, leaving it in General Li's hand. Fragments of those all too familiar nightmares passed before her eyes. She concentrated on the candle flames to keep her head clear, it was a trick she had learned in her first training. She sighed, the terrible thoughts had vanished, yet a new sense of bitterness had settled in their wake. "There is no reward for any of this, is there?" Her voice hardened a bit. "Reward is only for men, isn't it?" She looked to Taiping expectantly.

"Reward?" Taking a new stick of incense, Taiping lit it and placed it fastidiously on the altar before them. "We Buddhists believe that all life is suffering, because we are always desiring more, a reward, riches, a title. It's all an illusion. But there is something...something real." Her voice suddenly swelled. "There is not one of us who escapes the law of karma, that law says all our desires must be filled before we can find eternal peace. Learning to desire the right thing is the key. Maybe in her next life Empress Wei will be reborn as a great king, and she will learn that there is no glory. Her only hope is to seek the wisdom of Buddha and save herself from repeating that fate. And maybe... " She was staring into the candles too, a kind of wonder filled her eyes, a dreamlike wonder. Her face seemed alight with it, youthful again for one shining moment. "Maybe in my next life I will be a mother and I will have a daughter like me. That world will be different. It will be a place where I can teach her compassion, and that it is no shame to be born a girl. In that world, there will be no swords, no poisoned wine, and this life will only be a dim memory."

A silence washed over Mulan, a strong silence, her eyes watering at the conviction in Taiping's words. Shang's words traveled back to her. Then I will have a son... and I will teach him compassion... Sometimes I'd like to forget I am a general, and just be a man with my wife. It was so strange how alike they were, and how blinded Shang was to it. Two people who wanted the same thing, who lived with the same hardship. No wonder she had been drawn to Taiping.

"Your Highness," Mulan's voice held a steady conviction, decisive and firm as she turned to Taiping. "Whatever needs to be done, I will help you. I have a duty to my country too." It was time she took a lesson from Taiping and Tie-lin, their selflessness. But what it if meant choosing between Shang and what she believed in? What was more important? She sighed, she would have to decide that when the time came.

"We're women," she sighed, laying her soft hand over Mulan's. "We must support each other, because the men are too busy destroying themselves."

Mulan looked down at the white hand covering hers, the older woman was speaking to her as an equal.

~ * ~

That same prison of numbness clung to Shang's mind as he returned to his home in Louyang. answering his family's questions about his sudden return with as few words as possible. They had heard rumors that the Empress had been executed, that he was a hero in the capital. He shrugged all that off, retired to his room, bathed, redressed. Yet when his mother finally returned there was one question he could not escape.

"Where is Fa Mulan?" Tan Liu inquired. She knew the truth, he was sure of it by the undertone of scolding in her voice. She knew everything.

But what could he tell her? That he had abandoned Mulan once again, that he had turned from her and walked through the carnage of the Palace without a human emotion beyond quieting his own rage? She would be so disappointed.

In his life, he had not spent much time with his mother, Tie-lin had been her prodigy as she sadly watched her only son wedded to the military for the glory of her husband's family. He had been a sacrifice, and his father had sold him. Any bond he and his mother shared had been forged in months, years, of letter writing. She had returned carefully written advise for his every problem and worry, she had forced herself to feel pride for the soldier her son had become, despite her peaceful ways which made warfare a compromise to her principles. It was a strange bond between mother and son, but it was the way they had lived all these years. Still, he was afraid of her, not because she was a priestess, but because he sensed that she could see and understand things he wanted to keep hidden from himself.

"She's with Princess Taiping," he muttered quietly, the only words he said during the evening meal his family shared together, a halting contrast to the red spangled gaiety of his wedding feast.

It was Tie-lin who found him in the temple that evening; the noise of the house, the servants, his stepmothers had been an unwelcome intrusion to the solitude he desired. The temple was the only secluded place in the entire estate, across the grass and settled on a little green rise of its own. He had taken special care to light the candles, the incense, anointing himself with the rare and precious sandalwood oil. Maybe he had never mastered the tranquility for meditation, the stillness, yet the sense of being pacified still washed over him by simply kneeling there.

That newfound calmness made him think of Mulan, Nothing was beyond her, nothing changed her, not even his anger and harshness. Ping, how it had confused him to find himself falling for a boy, kept awake by those carnal thoughts for many a night, longing to teach the little soldier everything he knew, everything. His whole admiration came back to that arrow, the one she had climbed all night to fetch and throw at his feet. He had never meant for anyone to reach it, at the time he wasn't quite sure he could retrieve it himself. But it became plain and quintessential in his own heart, a symbol of who she was, a creature who proved to be more than what was expected, than what was deemed possible. He found himself smiling.

He was not angry at Mulan, his anger for her had washed away the moment he left her. He was angry at Taiping, for all the secrets she had kept from him, Now that he reasoned it out, he felt more betrayed by Taiping, she had trusted someone else over him. Unfortunately that someone had been Mulan. It was hard to admit, there in the temple, that he was jealous of Li Longji, and now of Mulan, they both seemed to gain her affection so easily, why not him? At the same time, he felt as though Taiping had taken something from him, something he wanted with all his heart to be exclusively and devoutly his. He was not proud of the way he had wronged Yao in the throes of his jealousy. But in his life, where true loyalty was scarce, a man would do cruel things to keep a woman like Mulan. It was such a tangle of emotions, to want Mulan's loyalty, Taiping's love without being able to trust her in return, and to want his cousin Longji somewhere out of the picture entirely.

"Mother is worried about you," his sister said softly, mincing her way forward. He reached for her arm and helped her to sit down beside him. She had the same look as his mother, only she was more outspoken about it. It took all his courage not to hide his face under her scrutiny. "What are you thinking?" She was the only one in the world who would ever ask him that question, everyone else either did not care, or was too afraid. And then there was Tai-shan, who didn't have to ask.

Sighing, Shang turned to face her where he knelt. "This life, do you have any happy memories, Tie-lin?"

The question had taken her aback, she paused with her hand halfway from dabbing the oil on her throat. A thoughtful look of sympathy crossed her features. "Mother, you, and of course Tai-shan. You?"

"The same," he answered quietly, watching her put the tiny vial on the altar again. "And her." A softened note of affection had entered his voice.

Tie-lin smiled. "Well doesn't that make it worth it then? I mean, if you were someone else, you might never have met Mulan in the army, and she might have been executed." Her smile deepened. "There is a such thing as fate, brother, it isn't meant for us to ponder. Just know that everything happens as it should."

Then why did Anle die, and his uncles? What was the reason for that? But he did not say that aloud, his mood was beginning to lighten. He even found himself smiling playfully. "What if she hadn't been executed, what if I had been just another commoner who glimpsed her face in the city and wanted to marry her?"

"If you were a commoner then you would have been in the draft, killed in the war maybe, or in some other part of the empire by the time she came home. You never would have seen her at all." Clever Tie-lin, he often grew tired of her outsmarting him. "Besides, it's something in the Turkish blood. I think she likes them tall and with a good pair of shoulders." She patted him for emphasis, bursting into laughter at his glare for her teasing.

"Very funny," he folded his arms.

Resting a hand on his arm, she sighed. "I'm sorry. If you weren't a son of the Li family then who would you rather be instead?"

"I don't know," he answered slowly, having never thought about it before. Wishing for something that could not be always seemed a pointless venture. "Maybe a merchant, not a wealthy one, but wealthy enough so I could travel the Silk Road. Or maybe a fisherman, so I could live on the ocean, far from Ch'ang-an." He snickered a little at himself. "What about you?"

His sister pursed her lips in thought then smiled. "I want to be Can-nu, the Silkworm Girl, and I would know what it is to run through green fields. It must be so liberating." With a wistful sigh, she looked down at her tiny feet.

"Shang?" They both turned around to see Tai-shan standing in the doorway, watching him carefully with shadowed eyes. Shang sighed in relief to see him, Tie-lin hadn't mentioned that he was here. "Are you alright?"

Nodding, Shang rose to his feet. "We've got orders, Shan, in the capital. Come with me upstairs and I'll tell you everything." He gave his friend a significant look. There wasn't much to tell about the military situation that he wouldn't have heard from his uncle already, but Shang wanted to talk.

"I'll be there in a minute, Shang," He glanced at Tie-lin. "I wanted to say goodnight." With a shrug, Shang left the two of them there and made his way back to his rooms.

~ * ~

This time when Shang entered the Imperial Palace, he tried to avoid as many eyes as possible. He was a hero now, he was well aware of that, of what sort of courtiers would try to attach themselves to him, try to buy his protection. He wanted none of that, the reward, the glory - all of that could go to Li Longji - he wanted to take his wife and go home.

Still, he felt a bit odd asking the servants where Mulan's rooms were, that was sure to start a flood of rumors. The fact that husband and wife - and more importantly two famous generals - were not sleeping together was of interest to too many people here. He sighed, and asked anyway, sure that Taiping had set out eyes and ears for him, to run to her and report the precise moment he returned. The puppet show never ended for her, she would have him dancing to her tune until her dying day if given her way. Deep inside, the angry thoughts shamed him, Taiping was blood, his only aunt on his father's side. But he did not want to think about Taiping now, or ponder how he felt for her, he had come for Mulan.

As expected, Mulan was not in her rooms. Of course, it would be too much to ask to take her with him quietly, saving the coming argument for the privacy of their home. No, with his luck she was likely with Taiping, the last person he wanted to see right then.

Terribly vexed, he found a servant approaching her rooms with a pile of linens. She bowed to him deeply, though twice his age by the look of her. "Fa Mulan," he demanded roughly. "Where is General Fa?"

"The lady general?" She quirked her brow, even she seemed surprised that he did not know the whereabouts of his own wife. What did these people think, that he kept her on a leash all day? Could not husband and wife spend time apart without people wondering? He had shamed himself though, and Mulan - every woman in the Palace knew it by now most likely. "She had no one to practice her martial arts with, so her friend Lady Jiang invited her to help her prepare for the coronation. Lady Jiang is a skilled dancer, and wanted some help with the movements for a sword dance she had designed to impress the new Crown Prince. They are still there now if you want to look for her, General."

Brushing past her with only a small nod, Shang took in the significance of her words as he made his way down to the floor where he knew the dancers practiced. So Li Dan had come for the throne at last? No doubt to Taiping's disappointment. It was good news at least. And Mulan, instead of filling her time being influenced by Taiping she was befriending the daughters of officials? It was harmless fun, true, but she had never mentioned this Lady Jiang. He had heard her name before, the beautiful daughter of a Court physician, and enamored of Li Longji. No doubt she was the little culprit who had drawn the tattoo that Mulan was so proud of.

The almost fanciful melody of drums and cymbals greeted his ears before he even peeked into the chamber. Through the partially opened door he could hear the soft voices and laughter of the women within under the music. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, doing more fooling around and chatting than serious practicing. He shook his head; women, you put two of them together and they either formed a lifelong bond or wanted to rip the other's throat out.

Well, they were actually practicing, but no sword dance. When he peeked his head in the door he caught a glimpse of a young woman he guessed was Lady Jiang, finishing her dance and walking from the center stage with a length of rainbow dyed silk banner trailing behind her. She was just as tiny as Mulan, only a trifle taller and slimmer in the face, but by the applause which rewarded her performance it seemed she was liked among the girls present. It was hard to say how many girls were present, there were the musicians lined up on one side of the stage, and two girls passing in front of the stage bringing more streamers, but the rest were hidden from his view behind the door. He did not dare show his face in that room, likely Mulan had told all her newfound girl-friends what a fool he was, they had no doubt advised Mulan on just how to handle the situation, to beat him, refuse his attentions at night, poison his food... No, he would just find the guard and inform him that he wished to speak to Mulan later, after he caught a glimpse of her here.

Suddenly the melody changed entirely, it thickened, shivered, with a slow restraint at first, a prelude to something frenzied, teamed with the high wailing of a flute. That shrill, sweet sound reminded him of the way a woman cried out when she was... No, that thought reminded him of something too bittersweet at the moment. It was barbarian music, from the Turks.

Lady Jiang took the center of the stage again, now in a blue midriff bearing outfit of silk pantaloons and bodice, holding a sheer veil of mauve hued silk. But she did not intend to dance alone, he saw her reach for another girl's hand and then Mulan shared the stage with her. Mulan, in a gold brocade bodice dangling a fringe of beadwork over her bare torso, voluminous red trousers of scarf thin silk, colorful sash and a red turban holding her hair back. The other women stood and made a loose circle around them, wearing similar outfits, stepping back to give them room to dance. Mulan took up one end of Lady Jiang's veil and the pair began to turn and sway in perfectly synchronized movements, waving their free arms in taut, serpentine motions into the air.

And then, Lady Jiang was staring right at him! A smile somewhere between sadistic and playful crossing her features. He shook his head at her, and started to back away, but in that moment she had oh so covertly dropped her end of the veil and slipped from the stage into the circle of her friends, but not after pushing Mulan more directly into his view. She bent, whispering something to another friend, and all of sudden they were encouraging Mulan to dance alone in the center of the circle.

Not missing a step, Mulan caught the veil in both arms, swirling it around as she spun, in the way a butterfly moved its wings. Those wide pants ballooned around her like clouds, her veil the same shade as the aurora sky. Then the veil fell with a deft shift of her body, the rhythm increased and she swayed tentatively, then dropping her hip in time with the drumbeat, twisting her arms behind her head and leaning back.

He had seen this dance before, Oryantal Tansi in the Turkish tongue, performed at Imperial functions by highly talented women. It was always enchanting, alluring when they performed it, yet seduction was always the point. Mulan had no such purpose in mind, she - and most of the other women present - had no idea a man was even watching, she was simply taking a turn showing off for her friends. Her movements held such playfulness and energy, an innocent experimentation as she found her own command of the rhythm, letting the sensual motions come naturally, so yielding.

Her back was to him now, arching slightly as she raised one arm in the air, head thrown back. In the blink of an eye she was on her knees, dropped so suddenly he initially thought she must have slipped until the girls encouraged her further. Her arm came up again, keeping her balanced as she dropped her head, arched her back and bent backwards all the way until her swaying shoulders brushed the floor between her bare feet that were folded under her.

It was only a moment that she stayed in that difficult position, but it was enough, as tantalizing as though she were physically touching him. All he could see was her tilted face, her small shoulders, and the white curves of her breasts where the cloth of her bodice had been stretched to accommodate her movements. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed, her lips parted; her whole expression seemed swept up in a rush of joy, freedom, and that single expression suddenly became the most erotic thing imaginable. It was exactly the same look that had been the driving image of his passion for her on their wedding night. And there she was now, too unaware to be shy or ashamed. Mulan - and clumsy, seemingly inept Ping. Was there ever any end to the mystery of her?

Shang inched his way from the door when he saw Mulan pulling herself up again, before she turned around, ready to give her stage to the next girl. He leaned his head against the wall a moment, gaining some control over himself, thinking to find a bucket of cold water as quickly as he could. Lady Jiang called loudly enough for him to hear through the door.

"Now listen to me, Fa Mulan. You don't let Li Shang lay a hand on your until he properly apologizes!"

He gritted his teeth, kicking the wall in frustration. From inside the room, he could hear the women falling all over themselves with triumphant laughter. Cruel, cruel women.