Part two: Shang
The steady trot of his white horse lulled Shang into a half-dreaming state. He reflected on the past year with marvel and satisfaction. There was a lot of grief, and a lot to be proud of. Beyond any doubts, it was the most fascinating year of his life.
He was not quite sure when all that began. Maybe it was on the day they received the imperial orders. They stated that the main troops were supposed to move to the mountain ridge, to protect the capital from the north. That meant that the older warriors, the brave, seasoned soldiers he came to regard as his family, were about to leave the camp in the middle of the drafting campaign. He did not care about the arriving rookies much, but the prospect of getting in the real battle was exciting.
The General had punctured his enthusiasm, though. He explained with the great patience how he planned to move the forces, and what route he selected to reach the mountains. But he wished his son to stay behind, and train the new recruits. That was a bummer. He was dreaming of the quest for glory, hand in hand with the elite regiments of the Imperial army. Instead, he was supposed to baby-sit a bunch of country bumpkins who did not even know how to get on a horse.
Father had a consolation for him, though. Shang was left as the commanding officer of the newly recruited regimen, and received a new rank. A captain! There were very few men who achieved such a high rank in such a young age. It was a great honour. And, as any great honour, it caused jealousy around him.
Chi Fu, for starters. That paper-bug never liked him, or his father. Chi Fu was not fit to be a warrior, but was always worming into the best forces, hoping that some of the fame of victory would rub on him. Chi Fu was going to make his life as an officer as difficult as he possibly could.
Shang was so elated by his promotion, so proud of his new rank, he did not care about Chi Fu. He was somewhat upset that his father was leaving with the elite forces; but he hoped to deserve his father's trust. It would be tough, but he was going to create a new elite regiment from those boys! The finest in China!
He had to interrupt his daydreaming to see his father off. The fine white stallions of the pride of Chinese army thundered through the camp and disappeared in the curves of the dusty road.
Shang felt suddenly lonely, like a little boy left alone at home for the first time. He grew up as a soldier; he spent most of his life in camp, but he always had senior officers to lean onto if needed. Now he was alone, except for Chi Fu. But that man would more likely be more burden than help.
His first experience with his troops was worse than he expected. They were no soldiers. They were just some village bullies ready for a brawl, not for battle. They were as unkempt and unorganized as he ever saw people to be. As soon as he got out of his tent, he saw the kettle of rice overturned, and most of his new soldiers involved in the fistfight.
He had to yell his first orders in most undignified fashion to make himself heard. On his enquiry who started the brawl, all pointed at the smallest and the most innocent looking young boy he had ever seen in the army. The boy was clearly scared out of his wits, and curled in the fetal position on the ground. How in the world he could cause the all-camp fight, was beyond Shang.
Well, that was getting interesting. Now they sent children to the war! China must be hitting some hard times, if this was the best he could get as a recruit. What next? Babies? Women?
"What's your name?"
"I've got a name, and it's a boy's name, too." The boy muttered, apparently trying to remember.
A funny boy. thought Shang. Was that any way to answer to an officer? Was he so scared he forgot his own name? Some soldier.
Finally, the name was successfully recalled. Ping. The boy happened to come from the most honoured military clan!
Shang could not believe it. Captain Fa Zhou was a famous warrior, friend of his own father. How come he never knew that Fa Zhou had a son? There were rumours that he had a beautiful daughter, but nothing about the son. Strange. Usually men boast of sons, not daughters. However, there it was, the conscription issued for the Fa family.
Still, Shang had to ask:
"I did not know Fa Zhou had a son"
the boy seemed to shrink a little under his scrutiny.
"He does not talk of me much." he offered weakly
Illegitimate son, maybe? By a concubine? Resented by the main lady? Fa Zhou was known as a serious, solemn man, and deeply in love with his wife. He was not the type of man who would have mistresses. However, the boy was right here, in front of him, making some pitiful attempts to behave "like a man". Gods, it will be more difficult than Shang had ever imagined.
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His premonition was proved to be true in the following days. They seemed to be cursed by a chain of failures. The soldiers were an unruly bunch of scruffy village guys, with no idea what military discipline was all about. They obeyed the orders grouchily, were messy and slow to learn.
Four of them were the worst. One, a short guy with a shorter temper, the most obnoxious Yao was seeking self-gratification in defiance of Shang's authority. Yao nick-named him a "Pretty boy", and was cracking disrespectful remarks every time Shang turned his back.
The other one was skinny Ling, a harmless fellow really, but the laziest Shang had met in years.
The docile giant Chien-Po was simply too slow for the military, though his unbelievable strength and peaceful nature won him lots of friends.
The threesome were always together, best buddies and worst soldiers, united in the picking on the forth disaster of the camp, the infamous little soldier Fa Ping.
That one was just too young. He was eager to learn and trying really hard, but had neither strength nor stamina to become a warrior. The gang of three played quite a lot of mean jokes on poor boy. He was obviously hurt by such unexpected enmity, but never retaliated.
The boy was quite isolated, he did not mix much with other soldiers. He even avoided them at night, and lived a tiny tent of his own. He was such a helpless child in boot camp.
As the shortest in the regiment Ping was always on the far end of the row of soldiers. Shang could not help but to glance his way once every so often. Maybe it was awe and admiration in boy's huge dark round eyes that made Shang press even harder, and work at his best. He admitted to himself that he was showing off for the boy a little.
Off training time, boy was just as unhappy. Once after the sunset Shang walked upon Ping deeply in conversation with somebody invisible. The boy thought himself alone, unaware of Shang nearby. Shang was intrigued. What is it he was talking to? A short piece of red ribbon? Why would a boy talk to a ribbon?
Taking a second look, Shang saw that it was a stuffed animal, a little red dragon. Must have been a talisman from home. Shang remembered when he got his own toy dragon for the fifth of May. that Ping, he is such a child yet, still playing with toys. Poor boy, he must be really lonely among the rude soldiers.
Shang saw the toy dragon yet once more. During the training on the mountain crossing Ping fell under his burden. The boy was too exhausted; he could not even carry the light weight. But next to his elbow there was the little red toy dragon, sneaked on the training when the weight was so critical. Shang was so touched by Ping's childish innocence;
he only frowned at him and picked up his load to carry up the hill.
Why was the boy here on the first place? The whole purpose of their fighting was to protect the children like Ping, not to expose them to the murderous horror of the war. Shang made a decision. The boy must go home. He might run into some trouble for his attempt to save the child by sending him away, but he did not care.
That evening Shang confronted young Ping. He picked up the reins of Khan, and shoved them in the face of the boy.
"You're unsuited for the war, so pack up, go home. You're through"
the boy's face expression was genuinely hurt. Shang could only hope that Ping will be too consumed with his troubles to see trough Shangs lies. Of course it was sheer bull. If he would begin sending soldiers home because they are unsuited for the war, he would have no army to fight with. No man is ever born for the war. If being a bad soldier would be a ticket home, half of his troops will be gone right away, and the rest will be competing for the title of the laziest bum around.
Thankfully, the boy was too young and too idealistic. He took Shang's scolding at face value. He went away, his head bent, shoulders slumped, feet scuffing the ground.
Go, little soldier, return home and have a chance to grow up. I will answer for sending you away, but your blood will not be on my hands. I will miss you, child. Grow up to be a brave man, like your father, maybe then we'll meet again.
Shang saw the boy turn to glance at the tall pole in the center of the camp. On the very first day of training Shang planted an arrow on the very top of the pole, and ordered soldiers to retrieve it with heavy weights tied to their wrists. The task required more skill than he could teach the boys by then. The arrow stayed in the pole, reminding everyone of the long way yet to go. It was too much for him to watch the boy looking at the arrow as if some symbol of his failure, an unattainable goal. Shang turned on his heels and walked to the tent.
Next morning Shang was surprised by the sounds of joyful greetings in the camp. He stepped out to see what all the commission was about just as the arrow landed at his feet. What he saw made him happy and sad at once: a small, tired, slouching figure was sitting on the top of the pole, with the weights over his shoulder. Ping figured out how to beat the challenge, all by himself.
"Oh, Ping" muttered Shang, touched by the valiance of the boy "You, stubborn little devil. OK, you win. You can stay. But I'd much rather have you safe."
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Finally, things were looking up a bit. The strenuous training was beginning to pay off, and the unkempt villagers were starting to look like real soldiers.
What had surprised Shang the most, was that little Ping was shaping out in the best soldier of all. Sure, he was small, untrained and awkward, but at the same time he was ready to learn and most promising. Besides, he was the only one with brains in the whole camp.
Ping had that cute habit to nod happily and repeatedly when he got what was explained to him, and never was skeptical and lazy like others. Teaching him was always a pleasure. His fighting skills were also much better by now. Little wonder, considering the illustrious family he was coming from. Though still not really strong, Ping knew how to turn his weakness into advantage. Flexible and agile, he was a formidable opponent in sparring. But his strongest point was his quick wit that let him to come up with crazy, brilliant solutions. Too bad he was totally incapable to comprehend the meaning of "impossible". One day it would get him in trouble.
Yet, Shang had to admire his ability to take problems as possibilities, obstacles as challenges, his own weakness as a tool to outsmart the opponent. Ping was getting along with others now, and was gaining some respect.
For the longest time Shang could not understand why the little soldier occupied so much of his mind at the time. The thought of the boy felt like a warm smile. He was different, all right. He was so gentle, patient and kind, not like any other man he ever met in the army. Maybe that was because he came from a good family and must be spoiled. Well, if he is, he is spoiled in the good way: a proud, able boy. Fa was the most respected family. And this boy will be the best achievement of the noble clan.
Ping was a rider, the only one in the camp other than himself. The boy was truly part of the horse. Khan was a huge black steed, but Ping sat so naturally. His mounting is a single fluid motion and on full speed he defied gravity. There was a special bond between the horse and the boy: Shang saw him more than once running to his horse for comfort; probably the black steed was the only piece of home the boy had, and Ping was taking painstaking care of his huge four-legged friend. In response, Khan seems rather protective of the small soldier.
Well, Shang was getting rather protective himself. His amusement with boy's antics was mixed with almost father-like pride. Somehow Ping found his way in Shang's heart. Ping was such a sweet boy: light figure with a bit rounded bottom, fine bone structure of the face, noble countenance and good breeding. He would be very handsome one day when he grows up. His figure would become taller and wider; his face would lose this graceful, almost feminine roundness of lines.
In fact, if he'd meet a girl with a face like this, with such dark eyes full of mischief, he'd be in some danger... These soft lips, so ready to smile. Shang knew every smile of Ping and had categorized them in his heart. There was a piqued smile of interest, and an open grin, and a tight smirk that oozes the sweetest poison. And then a quirky grin in friendly banter, a happy smile, an embarrassed baring of the white teeth. Not to forget a victorious beam after overcoming a challenge, and a crooked smile when he had outsmarted the opponent and was in complete control.
That last one was one of his favorites, along with the wistful look Ping was wearing right now. They were seated around the campfire that sent a warm glow on Pings golden skin, underscoring the tender blush on peach-like rounded cheeks. Ping had no facial hair at all, just how old was the boy?
Soothed by the roar of the fire, Shang was dosing right there, in the middle of the camp. He heard soldiers slowly getting up to turn in for the night, but he was too deliciously relaxed to get to his tent just then. There was a pleasant dream at the edge of his sleep-hazed mind; he did not want to force it away. Gradually, he slipped in the land of dreams, so happy, so untroubled.
There was a golden-skinned girl, slim, so lovely. her face was familiar, it was the face of Ping, with his quirky grin. Soft lips, silver laughter, shimmering dark eyes under heavy lashes. Ping's small frame fitted so perfectly in Shang's arms, his kisses were sweet beyond belief. PING! Shang woke up in horror, realizing that he was dreaming of a boy as a lover! He jumped up, and run to the stream to cool his sinful body, wash away the terrible dream.
He was not like that! He knew some men loved young boys, but not him. He was never attracted to a man in his life! He had his share of women. It was a pleasant experience, though not as exiting as some praised it to be. Then, again, the women he was with were such empty-headed dolls. He could admire their beauty, just as he admired a flower - one moment, to be forgotten in the next. Was he wrong? Was he a boy lover deep inside? It did not seem right. He thought about other boys he knew. No, he felt nothing at all. Only Ping - or, rather, if only Ping was a girl.
That was a nice thought. One day, he would find a girl like Ping. Witty, bright-eyed, lively girl. And he would win her. That would be right. Not Ping - the girl. Ping had a sister what if she was a lot like Ping? No, siblings were never that much alike. Besides, the existence of a girl as bright, opinionated and sweet as Ping was impossible. No way.
Shang just could not accept that he was so dirty. What would his father say if he knew that his son was a pervert? No. He would fight it. At least, for the pure and innocent young boy he will overpower this degradation. He will stay away from Ping, avoid the pleasure of his company. will not look at him, if he can help it. Ping would remain as one of the soldiers, maybe a friend one day. He would love him like a younger brother and avoid as an enemy. Maybe one day he would have a son like Ping, as intelligent and stubborn, with that girl he invented.
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For the next few days Shang managed to stay away from Ping, more or less. The girl with the face of Ping was now a sole subject of his dreams, but at least during his waking hours Shang had come control over his thoughts. He saw that Ping noticed a change in his attitude and tried to figure what he did wrong. It was killing Shang to see how the boy was trying to make up for whatever was his imaginable fault. But it was for the best. He would only have to restrain himself a little longer, soon the training will be completed and the soldiers may be sent to different regiments. If he will just hold on a bit more, Ping will be safe from his degradation.
Shang was trying to cut the remaining time of training as short as possible. He actually attempted to talk to Chi Fu, explaining that the boys were ready for the war. Of course, all he got from Chi Fu was a bunch of insults. Shang could not stand it much longer. Chi Fu could not possibly understand. Shang rose angrily and walked out of the tent.
Sure enough, Ping was right there, fresh and pink-faced from the evening swim. Somehow he heard the last words of Chi Fu "they are no more fit to be soldiers than you fit to be captain." Ping seemed to take it as a personal offence. He even offered to hold Chi Fu for Shang to punch! Poor, naïve boy. Shang only shook his head and moved away from the temptation. Still, he heard Ping saying shyly:
"for what it worth, I think you are a great captain"
Shang's heart was wrenched by such innocence, such pure heart. It worth a lot, my sweet boy, more than you'd ever know. Strangely, this incident helped him to find strength to fight his demons. Maybe he was perverted, but at least he had chosen as an object of his unspeakable passion the purest soul and the brightest mind he had ever met. He would find the strength in that; he would never betray Ping's innocent trust.
That very night a letter arrived from the General. Exited Chi Fu forgot everything he just told to Shang. They were moving out. Finally, the boys from the boot camp were becoming real soldiers, ready to join his father in the battle.
The travel brought some degree of variety in the regiment life. They were on the march most of the time, passing through the beautiful country they were sworn to defend. Soldiers were tired, but Shang welcomed the fatigue. It distracted him from the thoughts of Ping during the day, and his sleep at night was too heavy for dreams most of the time.
He got more accustomed to the boys. They were all right, after all. Even Yao and his buddies were not so bad. A weird bunch, but OK. Always ready to crack a joke, to lighten the mood. He could see them becoming good friends sometime, if they would survive this campaign.
In the early pre-dawn hour, Shang woke up with a start. He had another dream, almost forgotten already; only Ping's soft hands, sweet lips lingered in mind. It was yet too early to get up, but sleep had left him completely. Uncertain grayish light crept in the narrow opening of the tent flap; voices of the first birds, still unsure and weak, were
greeting the coming sunrise. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep, in less than an hour he will have to give the rising signal to the entire camp. Maybe a quick dip in the lake will clean up his head a little from the constant confusion he had about that stubborn little soldier of his. Besides, in this early hour he was sure to have the lake all for himself.
He had always loved early mornings. The fresh dump smell of the grass reminded him of the fishing adventures he had as a boy, back in his father's home. Soft earth of the forest path silenced his steps, so that the walk seemed unreal, like floating through the morning fog.
He reached the lake a few minutes before the first rays of the sun touched the treetops on the nearby hill. The water was glistening between swirling wisps of fog like polished steel. The dark shadows of the trees, ghostly outlines of the reeds through the morning mist in the first silvery light created a sight of unearthly enchantment. Shang had to remind himself why he came here on the first place. He shook off the magical eerie charm of the lake and got to the task of bathing. Shang tossed his clothing on the branch of the tree and stepped in the water, still faintly-warm from the heat of the previous day.
The swim was so pleasant that he was deliberately prolonging it, enjoying the cool water flowing over his skin. Sun had barely touched the hilltop, and the lake was yet hiding in the silent mystery of foggy darkness. It was so quiet, he could hear the fish splashing water on the other side of the lake. So peaceful. so easy to forget everything about war, Huns, camp full of soldiers.
The sound of the splash repeated from the same corner of the lake. Must be the best fishing spot somewhere there. Maybe he should take a look. They are staying here for another night; he might take the boys fishing.
A few quiet leisurely strokes brought him closer to the spot he thought the sound came from. There was it again, closer to the shore. He straggled to see in the deceiving morning light. There was something dark moving away from him, but it looked nothing like a fish. Some water animal, maybe? Not wanting to scare it away, he was treading the water quietly, watching its progress toward the grassy bank.
What happened next, made him cease his movements, nearly drowning himself. The rounded dark object rose from the water on the support of the slim white neck, narrow shoulders, graceful back. He blinked twice, not believing what he was seeing. Of course, there could be no young and beautiful woman here, alone, many miles away from any village. Girls of such beauty are guarded by their parents or husbands like the most precious of treasures, and never let to wander in the secluded forest lakes in the view of the army camp. Indeed, it was no regular girl. Who was she? Were the legends about the water sprites true? Was he seeing the enchanted guardian of the lake?
He felt himself able to believe anything at that point. She was just too lovely for a mortal woman. She seemed inseparable from her surroundings: the lake, the mist, the morning dew, and the smell of the wet leaves. She was as beautiful, pure and untouched as this tranquil lake in the forgotten forest. and he would give his life to touch her. His awareness of her was physically obvious now, despite the cool water.
What's wrong with you, Shang? A boy soldier, a dream girl, a water sprite. his abstinence must have been for too long, it was becoming dangerous for his immortal soul. In his embarrassment he made a careless move, and splash of water resounded over the lake's surface.
The water sprite turned warningly, trying to listen to the sound. The small breasts, the slim waist twisted in the taut spring of attention, the huge dark pools of her eyes, her white, lithe form against the dark foliage she was just. perfection. She might have seen something, or heard maybe, because her small hands came up in an attempt to cover herself. Then she bolted behind the tree, and simply disappeared from the view.
In half a dozen powerful strokes, Shang swam to the spot where the vision appeared, and climbed on the shore to see if there were any traces of her. He rushed through the bushes, unheeding of the noise he was making or his own nakedness. Well, some parts of him did call for attention, efficiently proving his view of his own sexual orientation. That was no reaction of a boy lover. Well, she was gone, disappeared without a trace, as a little nymph she was. And he was making a fool of himself.
He was thinking of the vision on the lake all day, through the routine of the camp life and later in the evening. He walked around in hope to find a house or village that the girl might had come from, he even asked soldiers if they seen any people around, but they were alone in the entire valley.
He returned to the lake after dark, but the water sprite was too scared or too stubborn to show herself again. By morning he was convinced that it was indeed a supernatural apparition. He'd seen women of different states of life in his time, but none could compare with the girl he met a morning before. Peasant girls were never as graceful; their build was too crude, disfigured by the manual work. Noble girls never had such toned bodies, with cat-like strength and natural grace. No, his charming spirit of the lake did not belong among mortal women.
Shang's head was light after the sleepless night. It did not matter much: the day was dedicated for a lengthily march that constituted the last leg of their journey. The troops were sufficiently schooled by now, and keeping them in order did not require much concentration.
He was dozing in the saddle, half-wondering about his adventure in the forest, half-listening to the chatter of the soldiers. He knew that he was trying to keep his thoughts on the water sprite, because it was much safer subject than the one he forbade himself.
Still, he was always aware where precisely Ping was at any moment of time. At that point, Ping was forced to participate in the discussion on the most popular subject: girls. While other guys were always bragging over their victories, Ping had never joined them. Perhaps he was too young to have much experience.
But somehow Shang believed that it was good breeding of the worthy son of Fa clan. There was something inconsistent in Ping's behavior with women. He was painfully shy, clearly uncomfortable when girls in the villages where they stayed overnight tried to flirt with a cute young soldier.
Shang could understand the bashfulness of the young boy. But then once he witnessed as a pleasure girl made a shameless pass on him, pressing her assets to the boy in the most compromising manner. A grown man might have been shaken under such assault. But Ping only brushed her off contemptuously, and did not even blush. Shang did not hear what he said to the woman, but she retreated in shame and behaved much more modest the rest of the evening.
It just did not add up. On one hand, Ping had a very sober concept of women, and never idealized them. On the other, his ideas of them were somewhat naïve. He talked of them as equal, almost comrades, capable of reasoning and decision-making. One day he'll have to learn that they were only brainless pretty dolls, petty and vain, nothing to inspire such respect in the bright boy like Ping. Though, an idea of an intelligent and admirable woman was very attractive indeed. Too bad such women never existed.
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They were climbing higher and higher in the mountains, chatting amiably. The next turn was going to bring them in the direct view of the village where his father's forces were located. He felt a pleasant anticipation, a joy of showing his father the newest and well-trained troops of China. Father would be glad that his son proved to be a worthy captain. That was some achievement, to make soldiers out of ruffians like Yao and kids like Ping.
Shang tried not to look at the boy directly. It was enough to see his footprints on the snow. It was easy to pick Ping's out; they were half of the size of the next smallest foot in the regiment. Shang smiled: many ladies would kill for such little feet.
As they passed the curve of the road, Shang felt that something very wrong was in the village. There was no customary noise of the human habitat, no life signs of the village, only bitter smell of smoke in the air. But nothing prepared him for the horror of what he saw. The village was burnt to cinders, all people apparently killed. There was no sign of the army anywhere.
"I do not understand. My father should have been there."
There was no time to contemplate the unexplainable. His duty was to take care of the situation as he had found it. First, to estimate the damage and to help those who could be helped. He turned to his horror-stricken soldiers and gave a brisk order:
"Search for survivors"
They walked from house to house, but there was no one found in the entire village. The only thing remotely human was a small doll that Ping found among the coals. Another reminder of the innocent souls they failed to protect. The little mistress of this doll would never need it again, and who knows how terrible her last minutes were. An uncertain sound from Chien- Po attracted his attention. The sad giant was holding something in his hands oh, so familiar.
"The General."
Shang's mind could not at first grasp the significance of the dented helmet of his father that Chien-Po was giving to him. He moved unthinkingly after the soldiers, to the edge of the cliff.
There it was the army of his father. Utterly demolished by some unimaginable force, twisted bodies frozen in the snow, weapons and banners scattered around. So that's was where the finest troops of China found their tragic end. That was where Shang lost his father.
Shang was strangely aware of his feet, firmly planted in the cold snow, strained rigidly. He was sure he could not make another step. Never again he will hear fascinating tales of the heroic history of China from his father. Never again he will hear restrained praise of gentle reproach from him. No more lessons on strategy or tactical planning. No more warm pat on the back when things look too gloomy. The only man he loved, his only family was gone. He will never have a chance to make his father proud of him. He was utterly alone in the world.
Yao retrieved the sword of the General. The sword that seen days of such glory was found in the pile of rubble next to his father's body. Shang reverently accepted the sword, and placed it in his scabbard. His own sword he inserted in the frozen ground at the edge of the cliff and covered with his father's helmet, as a memorial for his father and his slain warriors.
He remained there for a few moments, praying to ancestors and to the soul of his father that joined them so untimely. He was called out of his reverie by a small warm hand gently placed on his shoulder. Ping's eyes were full of sincere sympathy:
"I am sorry" he said softly, hiding his eyes
Shang rose to his feet. That was not a time for despair. He placed his own hand on Ping's shoulder. The boy was so small next to Shang. Yet, he might have been best friend Shang ever had. Shang was not alone after all.
He turned away. From the corner of his eye he saw a hand with long tapered fingers placed the doll next to the sword. Ping's gentle heart paid the last respect to the innocent lives lost in the war as Shang honored the fallen warriors. Shang was touched by the gesture, but the time was pressing. Huns must been approaching the capital at that very moment.
"We are the only hope for the emperor now. Move out." Shang cryed out, managing somehow to sound collected and business-like. He was a soldier first and foremost, and a son second.
They were pushing through the deep snow, cold to the core. All supplies and cannons they had were loaded on the only cart they had with them. Powerful Khan was pulling the cart, with ping walking by his side.
Suddenly sound of explosion reached Shang. He turned to see that one of the cannons came to life for no apparent reason, sending the rocket high in the sky, pinpointing their position to anyone watching. Ping was a couple of yards in front of the cart, and the rocket obviously came from the inside through freshly-made hole, so there was no way Ping could have anything to do with it. But Shang was blind with anger anyway:
"What happened? You just gave away our position" he lashed out at the young soldier.
Ping just looked at him under such undeserved scolding. There was no point venting his frustration on the boy. The situation was serious enough.
His fear was justified in the next moment. An arrow came from nowhere, hitting him in the shoulder. Armour protected him, but more arrows were raining down on the unprotected troop.
"Get out of range" he yelled over the noise of panicking people.
Soldiers were scrambling for the cover of the rocks. The rain of arrows was so dense, it seemed that the sky got darker. Some of arrows were carrying burning rags, and one of them hit the cart with all the cannons. If they would explode, they'd kill most of his soldiers and leave the rest of them unarmed and defenceless. He had to save the cannons.
Obeying his hoarse order, the boys begun to unload the cart in the haste. But flames were consuming the cart too fast. There was no way they could save all the cannons. He had to protect the soldiers from the coming explosion.
He ordered a retreat. He saw that Ping swung his sword to free Khan of from the harness. Even in the face of the danger boy did not forget his horse. He barely had time to move away from the cart before it exploded.
They all run under cover and prepared to use the cannons. It was a pleasure to see how well his soldiers worked under the stress of the real battle. All the movements were smooth, economical. The fire was organized and precise. The clouds of smoke hid the enemy forces, but there was no more arrows coming at them. To be safe, Shang ordered to save the last cannon.
As the smoke cleared, their spirit slowly sank. All surrounding slopes were black from the masses of the enemy forces. Shang never fathomed the size of the army that Shan-Yu brought in China. And he was alone against it now. So that's how the best regiment of is father was destroyed.
There was no force to withstand such attack in the entire China. It was the worst nightmare of any officer: a handful of the foot soldiers surrounded from three side by the whole army, squeezed in the bottom of the small valley at the edge of the cliff. Just a few green recruits that had never been to the battle - against huge horde of seasoned Mongolian warriors.
There was no way out. The only choice was to die with honour, with full knowledge that this sacrifice would be in vain. The best they could possibly do was to take out a few of the enemy. That would make no difference in the war. Still, he would do his best. May be, if he'd get lucky, he'd be able to take one of the higher officers of Shan-Yu with them to the land of the dead. But it was a small consolation for such a senseless death.
He put all his soul into training these boys, only to see them slain in the very first battle. They became as dear to him as friends. Ping! The boy would die too! That thought was a harder blow than the perspective of his own imminent death. But what could be possibly done? These barbarians have no mercy. Shang gave his last order to his soldiers:
"Prepare to fight. If we die, we die with honour" If he'd be honest, he'd say, "when we die." there was no hope, and he knew that. Poor Ping, he'd never grow up to become a man he was promising to be.
A deafening Mongolian war cry shattered the air. Huns were rolling down the hill, like a black avalanche. There was no power in the world to stop them. Shan-Yu himself was riding in front of his army, flaunting his monstrous power. Shang was trying to come with some idea to tip the scale in their favour. Shan-Yu was a presentably large aim by now. It was a long shot, but worth trying.
"Aim the last cannon at Shan-Yu!" he ordered. Yao carefully set the cannon on the ground to aim it as best as he could. The rest of the soldiers bared their swords and assumed the defence stance.
A sudden movement among his soldiers caught Shan's attention. Ping had sheathed the sword, shouldered Yao aside and grabbed the last cannon. The boy started down the hill in a mad dash, as if to intercept the Huns on their attack. There was a sense of purpose and urgency in every move of the boy. He had a plan, apparently too complex or too crazy to explain it.
About halfway between them and the Huns, Ping stopped and set the cannon on the ground. Was he trying to take the oncoming Shan-Yu personally? An admirable courage. He just could succeed in that.
But he was aiming too high, why? Usually, his aim was the best among the boys. Could he be too nervous?
He obviously had dropped the matches, and was looking all around in the snow for them. Shan-Yu was getting too close! A few more strides, and he would swing his vicious sword at the helpless boy.
Soldiers saw the predicament Ping got himself in and ran toward him, even knowing that they would never be in time to help. Shang himself could not help but go out to the young foolish hero.
But Ping did not pay any attention to friends or enemies. He kept working, even with Shan-Yu only a few yards away. Somehow he got the fire going, and crouched behind the cannon to aim it just right.
Oh, no, the boy was not nervous at all. He actually smiled at Shan-Yu through the aim of the cannon, and then slowly, deliberately lifted it well above the head of the charging enemy, and let the rocket fly.
Did he lose his mind? There was no way he could miss the huge form of Shan- Yu a mere three feet away.
Shang was already close enough to see a slow confident smile spreading on the childish face of the boy. No, it was no miss.
Shang followed the retreating cannon with his eyes, and saw it sink in the snow hanging from the sharp mountain peak overlooking the valley. The snow muffled the explosion, so insignificant, harmless on the vast chest of the mountain.
Then it downed on him. Gods, the child was a genius. He just saved them all, the capital, China itself. He destroyed the whole army with one shot. The snow cornice was slowly sinking down the hill, engaging wider and wider wing of the avalanche.
Down in the valley, Shan-Yu raised his sword at the boy who did not even attempt to defend himself. Instead, Ping grinned. Shang knew that grin: the young boy, unarmed, half the size of the most feared warrior in the world, smiled smugly, in total control of the situation.
Shang was stunned by admiration. That was the most brilliant plan any one ever came with, and most courageously executed. He was owed at the thought that he just witnessed a birth of a hero of China. Ping knew he might die in a moment, but he had won already.
Shan-Yu glanced back, and then again at the small fearless figure crouching on the snow. The rumble of the avalanche was gaining on the enormous army of Hans. There is a horrified respect in the dark eyes of the Shan-Yu. Chinese had foiled his plans. Even if they all die, they will take Hans with them and will save the capital.
Shan-Yu swung the sword, slicing Ping's mid-section. Ping moved back in attempt to avoid the strike.
Was he all right? The boy was alive, at least. He got up and ran, using the moment when Shan-Yu is torn between fear of the death and concern for his army.
The avalanche was already swallowing the first rows of Huns. In another minute, it will sweep the place where the small Chinese troop was. Since the terrifying wall of snow was coming from behind the Mongols there was some chance for Chinese to escape from it.
Ping's small hand grabbed Shang's one and pulled him in the break-neck run downhill, away from the danger. Events were unfolding so fast that Shang could barely keep track of them, leave alone to have any control.
Only now, running downhill with the small warm hand in his he realized the enormity of what happened. The Hun's army was utterly destroyed, they won. The nature defended her own. If only they could escape themselves. But it did not matter much. The Huns were stopped. The capital was safe.
The snow under his feet began to move as the treacherous waters of the sea. The avalanche was catching up with them. Shang lost his footing, and Ping's fingers desperately holding his hand slipped from his grasp. The wave of the snow covered him and carried down to the cliff. When Shang surfaced again, he saw that Khan was making his way to his little master, braking through the snow with his powerful chest.
Ping managed to grab the reins and a second later he was on the horseback. The relief that Ping had a chance was overwhelming for the man who was sliding to his own death. The snow hit him again, and he blacked out. When he came to, his eyes went to the only light of his life. What in the world was he doing? Instead of riding to safety, Ping turned
Khan down, and was racing the avalanche down. He heard desperate, childish cry:
"Shang!"
It was impossible. The boy actually thought he could save his commander. He never learned when to stop. What was even more amazing, that he was really gaining on Shang. There was that small hand again, reaching for his. Shang grabbed it desperately, but a new tide of raging snow swallowed him, breaking the contact.
Semi-conscious, Shang felt that Ping pulled him across the saddle. How could a small boy do it? He heard about the feats people accomplished with the strength of the desperation, but it was still unbelievable. The boy was incredible.
Unfortunately, it was too late for them both. The flood of snow pulled them further down the slope, and suddenly Shang felt that he was falling, along with Khan and Ping still holding on him. At least they will be together till the last was Shang's last thought before he blacked out.
He never knew how they were pulled to safety. He felt hands trying to open his armour, and heard voice:
"Get back, guys, give them some air!"
For a moment, he could not believe that he was still alive. He long lost counts of the miracles that Ping could pull through in a matter of minutes. He opened heavy lids and sought the boy out. He was right there, panting on the ground.
Shang put his hand on boy's shoulder:
"You are the craziest man I ever met. And for that, I owe you my life. From now on, you have my trust"
No kidding. You can have my life, boy. I am honoured to be with you when you pulled THAT trick on Huns. Other boys were too overcome with excitement:
"Let's hear it for Ping, the bravest of us all"
That what you think, Ling, thought Shang wryly. The boy is the bravest of any warriors that ever lived.
There was such light of joy in the dark eyes of Ping. He rose to face Shang, but then unexpectedly moaned in pain and brought one hand to his stomach. The hand came out drenched in blood, the boy looked at it in surprise on the young face and suddenly swayed.
No, not that, not now! The sword of Shan-Yu, it got you after all. Shang could see that the Ping's consciousness was slipping away, and haze of death swimming in the beautiful dark eyes.
"He is wounded! Get help!!!" he heard the hooves of Khan almost immediately. He did not even turn to see who was dispatched to bring the doctor. All he cared for was the boy that was slowly sagging in his arms.
"Hold on" it was half-prayer, half order. He could not lose the boy! He was the only living being he really cared for.
"Hold on, Ping"
But Ping could not hear him any more. He was lying there, a little prone on the snow.
Shang gathered him in his arms, and carried to the hastily erected tent. Ping was so tiny, so light, a mere child. Shang had almost forgotten that behind this intelligent and courageous young soldier with unwavering smile was a young boy, no more then fifteen by his looks. A child, like a son.
Shang pressed his lips to the pale cool forehead of the boy in his arms. The boy's hair smelled something sweet and long forgotten. How could so small of a body hold so much life?
Where was the doctor?! This boy did too much for China to die because of some lazy loaf. Just hang on for a bit longer here, little buddy. We'd get that village charlatan to patch you up a little, so it would be safe to take you on the horseback. I'll carry you so carefully, you wouldn't feel a thing. The capital was right down here. We'd be there in no time. Then, you'd have the best doctors and the best care there was, better than Emperor himself got. Just don't die on me, my boy. You have too much to live for. You'd see, all China would know about the magnificence of your sacrifice, your unparalleled courage and your brilliant mind. You'd become most trusted and most admired man in the country, just hold on. Why did you have to risk you life yet again, for me, beloved. Even when hurt, you thought of others, my little hero, my friend.
Finally, the doctor came. He was from the nearby village, an old, experienced fellow. He took one glance at devastated Shang, nodded and took over. Shang was evicted from the tent, and now was pacing around it, almost mad with worry.
The trio of the soldiers explained to him how Ping saved them both, shooting the arrow with the rope for them to pull the horse up. Shang was no longer surprised. There was never a hero like Ping in the Chinese army.
But he was too young to die. The scar from Shan-Yu was an honour for any warrior, if only he could live to tell about it. As far as Shang knew, no one ever survived the wound from the hands of Shan-Yu. But Ping has to be the first. He was already the first to defeat the terrible Hun, he will be the first to recover from his sword. If he survives, Shang would take him to his father personally, and tell the heroic tale of the young boy.
At last the doctor climbed out of the tent. Shang zeroed on him like a hawk on the prey.
"How is the wound?" he asked anxiously.
The doctor saw that soothing the desperate captain was a matter of his own survival:
"It will be all right, the sword did not penetrate the abdominal cavity, the life is not in danger." He crooned soothingly, "There is a substantial loss of blood and shock, but it will pass. I have bandaged the wound, and administered some droughts. Rest for a few days is all that's needed for a full recovery. She is a healthy girl, she will make it if you will take a good care of her"
"Girl?!"
he did not understand for a minute. Then he yanked the flap of the tent away and strode to Ping's bed. He (she?) was awake, and rose swiftly on the bed to meet him, smiling shyly and adoringly, as always. The blanket fell of, baring slim arms, fragile shoulders and the grey bandage spiralling up from the tiny waist to the gentle swell of her
breasts.
There was no doubt about the gender of his best soldier. Ping had been lying to him from the start. He was hiding the girl of his dreams right under his nose. Shang frowned at her in disbelief. Ping or whatever her name was grabbed the blanket to cover herself, and cringed in shame at his stern look.
"I can explain" she muttered in a soft, desperate voice. 'I just bet you can.' thought Shang. So he was not going crazy over a boy after all. The pieces of the puzzle were falling together: the attraction to the boy, the dreams of the girl.
The water sprite! Of course! There was never any sprite, just Ping taking a morning swim! So that's what this boy was hiding under the soldier's garb.
The desire to touch her, to prove to himself she was real at last was almost overwhelming. Shang had to make a step back and cross his arms in front of him to stop his hands from reaching for her.
She deliberately deceived him to drive him crazy! No, it was impossible: she never knew about him. She was already in the camp and dresses as a boy when he first saw her.
What was he thinking! It was never about him! A noble creature like Ping was above personal deceit. There must be some other reason.
The little impostor! All that vexation he went through in the last few weeks, it was for nothing! If he only knew that the boy he was going crazy about was actually a girl, that his errant lust was not a perversion after all! He would. What? Take her to his tent? Make her a mistress? Impossible. She was from the Fa family.
Yet, he was absolutely sure that he'd be unable to stand having his enchanted little water sprite in the regiment and not press his attention on her. Marry her? Who ever heard of an officer marrying one of his soldiers? Proper marriage for a man of his status must be arranged by a matchmaker, and conducted in the traditional and dignified way. No, even as a girl she was just as unapproachable as Ping ever was. But. That was before she saved China. Now, it was even more complicated. With a girl of such courage and ingenious mind he was clearly out of his league. The only benefit his new knowledge gave him was to dream of her without remorse, he thought a bit sheepishly.
Chi Fu stormed in the tent and Shang left at once, he just needed a moment to get his thoughts together. But he underestimated the hypocrisy of the counsellor: the scrawny worm pulled the sick girl out on the snow, exposing her before the soldiers. He yanked the string tying her hair, and it fell down, framing a young pretty face.
Shang recognized these slender shoulders all too well. The blanket she was desperately clutching to her chest had nothing to hide from him. The small white figure he once saw in the morning mist was forever in his heart. The girl gathered her courage to speak:
"My name is Mulan" a water sprite named Mulan. how appropriate. "I did it to save my father"
Shang was startled. Father! He just lost his own, he felt that so acutely. Of course! Fa Zhou was gravely wounded in his last battle, he would never be able to sit on a horse or fight again. His own father was wondering if his friend would be able to walk... A daughter like Mulan would not be able to watch her father going on a suicide mission. Shang himself would die to protect his own father. He expected nothing less from Ping.
"Please, believe me" she was pleading
and in his heart Shang could not help to answer: 'I believe you, my little soldier. 'But Chi Fu was not satisfied. He appealed to the old law, demanding the execution of the impostor. The law! Shang was so shocked by the revelation, so relieved that he was not crazy, he forgot all about the law. It stated clearly, that any woman who impersonated a man was to be put to death. To death!
Chi Fu was looking straight at him. Than it dawned on Shang: not only the monstrous sentence for Mulan was certain, he, Shang, was supposed to execute it. It could not be real, it must be some horrendous nightmare. He was not alone in his resentment of the unfolding cruelty. The friends, even the horse seemed ready to protect her. But Chi Fu was unfazed.
"Restrain him" he pointed at Khan. Then he gestured to stop the soldiers who moved to defend the girl:
"You know the law"
What kind of law would demand the murder of an innocent child! He just found the best girl in the world. And the law was forcing him to murder her! He had served that law all his life; he was bound by it. It was his pride to put the honour before personal feelings. Now, he did not know what honour was. To kill the helpless wounded girl? To repay with death for saving his and everyone else' hide? That was honour? That was what he had devoted his life for? Then he was damned along with the rest of them. They were killing her, because they did not deserve to live on the same earth with her.
Shang lifted the sword. Detachedly, he observed that this was the second time today that a sword was lifted above her head. The first had been Shan- Yu's.
Mulan lifted her eyes valiantly to meet his. There was no reproach, no anger in her eyes, only acceptance of her fate - and pride. His eyes were fixed on her, trying to absorb every smallest detail, imprint the torturous image in his mind forever. Something was breaking inside him, and he knew for certain that he'd never be the same. She lowered her head in gesture of a proud submission. This small, half-naked girl on the snow was a picture of noble dignity, and he felt humbled in comparison.
Then he felt it descending upon him, a moment of absolute clarity. That was it, the emotion that he read about in the famous poems and never truly believed in. His little pupil taught him what no other teacher before could: the love that was more magnificent than glory and nobler than honour.
It was so simple, after all. He never intended to strike her. How could he? In the very beginning he was prepared to accept responsibility for letting Ping go. Now he would accept the punishment for saving Mulan as the greatest of honours. All he had to do is make it look good for Chi Fu.
"A life for a life, my debt is repaid" he said, hating himself
What a joke. You saved all our lives today, and all those in the capital. You avenged my father. This debt can never be repaid. You saved my own life more than once, and how have I paid you back? Your only crime being too loyal to those you love, and being too brave. There is no one like you, Ping, Mulan. A beautiful name. I wish there were a way to do more for you, my love. 'The contemptible worm Chi Fu was trying to make some noises to the effect that they should not leave Mulan alive. Shang's patience was wearing thin.
"I said, move out" he snapped at the sniveling Chi Fu.
They drove off, leaving the wounded girl alone on the mountaintop. Shang never felt so bad about anything in his life before. He saw that the Gang left some blankets and food for Mulan, but pretended he did not notice. He hated himself for being unable to help her. He smiled humorlessly. Her former tormenters took care of her. Obnoxious Yao left his own blanket, lazy Ling gathered her few belongings together, glutton Chien-Po spared some of the food. And he, noble Li Shang, threatened to kill her.
The man that loved her left her alone, hurt and weak on the mountain Tang- Shao pass. The vision of her thrown on the frozen ground was engraved in his mind. Thin naked arms against the snow. she must have been so cold. Other girls of her breeding were protected from the slightest breeze. He left her alone in the snow. Other men protect their loves with own life. He had betrayed his for what? He felt that he had lost the ground under his feet. Every moral doctrine, every notion of honour he had before was shaken inside him.
Honour was no longer just a rigid set of established rules, but a puzzling path where decisions on what's right and what's wrong had to be made on every turn, without any guidance from a clear-cut moral code. Nothing was certain any more, except for the inner integrity of an honest man. The example was right there: a girl that had broken every rule of decency in existence in order to do the right thing. And he, who was brought up as an epitome of established traditions, respected her all the more for that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The capital was just two hours ride from the Tang-Shao pass, but it took them almost until morning to get there. Shang was exhausted to the point when he dropped on the bed in the inn, and lost himself for several hours of fitful sleep. The sun was well up when he was summoned to the victory party. That was something that he did not consider before: he was supposed to accept all the credit for the victory that Mulan had brought to China, when the real hero was thought unworthy of mentioning among warriors.
The news about the victory had spread through entire capital and surrounding country with unbelievable speed. Everyone rejoiced that all the Hun army was destroyed, and the small Chinese regiment that brought the victory was only one soldier short. Only one small soldier.
They were given a magnificent feast. The pleasure girls danced for the heroes of China, but Shang's mood was too dreadful to pay any attention to their graceful movements. The dancers attempted to flirt with him; after all, he was a "hero"! getting him in their bed would be quite an achievement for them. But all he could see was the grey bandage around a slim torso, unravelling in his hands.
He was doing it again. Instead of thinking of her as a hero, an unachievable ideal that no earthly passions could ever touch, he was thinking of a beautiful girl to desire, an adorable child to protect and hide from the rest of the world. What did he say to her? "I will make a man out of you, boy" Duh. On the high-sight it was obviously an impossible
task from the start. On the other hand, he would not mind a chance to make a woman out of that girl. He had lost his chance, if he ever had it. The vision of the water sprite was haunting his sleep and dominated his thoughts during the day. Only she. No one else in the entire world was so in sync with nature, had such understanding over it to engage as an ally the force as terrifying as avalanche.
The parade was planned later that evening. The capital had a reason to celebrate, but Shang had none. Beat of the drums, colorful kites only served to wound his sore conscience more. It was he who was the real impostor, taking credit for what was done by someone else. The gang was as depressed as he. They were riding with their heads down, eyes trained on the ground. The undeserved praise. it was worse than undeserved punishment. The retainers were crying out:
"Make way for the heroes of China!" If the real hero were a man, he would be pronounced a legend and receive the highest honors. But as a girl, she was abandoned to die in the snowy mountains. She was a hero that China did not deserve.
There was a movement in the crowd, a small rider on the large black horse was making his way toward Shang. Shang's eyes widened in shock when he recognized the face that was haunting him day and night. Mulan was back!
She had her hair down, as a girl should, and he could not understand how he ever thought her to be a boy. She moved so boldly, as if she had never been hurt. Maybe water sprites heal faster than humans? But why was she there? She was telling something about Huns surviving the avalanche
"Huns are here, I saw them!"
Why was she still trying to help them? Did not they hurt her enough already? She would only be hurt again. She did not belong among this arrogant crowd. She should run away from these stupid, cruel people who will never deserve her.
"You do not belong here, Mulan, go home" May be if he send her home she would be safe. She would never forgive him anyway; there was nothing to lose. At least she would be safe.
"Why can't you believe me?" there was such hurt in her eyes.
"Why should I?" he asked with a challenge 'You tricked me, you are the water sprite, the mistress of mountain avalanches, you are beyond our understanding. You can turn defeat into victory, weakness into strength, yourself into a boy-soldier, me into a lovesick fool. I am helpless against you. But I will keep you safe, if this would be the last thing I'd do.' Shang was confused and ashamed, he did not know why she talked to him at all. He was still hurt that she lied to him. He could understand her, though - the penalty was death. For the first time in his life he was ashamed of being a man.
"Or why else would I be here?"
that's easy, beloved. You are here because I am here. You are my heart, you are my conscience. You were never away, you'll always be in my heart. But, for the sake of my sanity, please, just go away. I've heard your warning, run and be safe.
"You said you trusted Ping. How Mulan is different?"
'Oh, she's different, all right,' thought Shang. 'To be Mulan, one had to be ten times more courageous than Ping. Mulan was a hero, a beautiful brave girl, girl I love. I wouldn't let you get hurt again. Go away; go to wherever in the Celestial lands your real home is. It should be a wonderful, enchanted place, so that your family could raise a miracle like you there. This earth does not deserve you. I don't deserve even to look at you. For the sake of my love, I will offend you yet one more time. Just go away, and be safe from us all. We will deal with the Huns, I promise. Your courage won't be in vain, my love. Forgive me, my little brave water sprite. '
She seemed to despair in convincing him, and turned to the gang:
"Keep your eyes open. I know they are here"
He heard her trying to convince other people, but no one would listen. The testimony of a woman never deserved any attention. Women were invisible. He could only plead silently: 'Go home, Mulan, leave these arrogant fools to their fate. '
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The procession approached the stairs of the Imperial Palace. There was no way out of it Shang had to carry out this loathsome duty of the hero- figure.
He ascended the stairs to greet the Emperor. The brightly-colored ceremonial dragon followed him up the stairs, swaying right behind his back. Shang was somewhat uncomfortable with it, it was too close behind. Were those performers crazy? What were they doing on the steps of the palace?
The stately old Emperor received him on the wide ceremonial landing. Shang knelt to offer the Emperor the sword of Shan-Yu.
The Emperor spoke, and his voice had flown freely over the heads of the thousands of people gathered around the Palace.
"Thanks to our brave warriors.," 'There was only one worrier, your Majesty, and she was tossed away, discarded.' "the Middle kingdom will sleep peacefully tonight"
But Shang would never sleep peacefully again.
Then the Emperor addressed Shang, who was still kneeling with the enemy sword in his hands:
"I know what it means to you, Li Shang. Your father would be very proud."
'I wish it was true, Your Majesty I wish I deserved your praise.' Shang thought, bowing deeper, holding out the sword to the Emperor.
He heard a woman scream in the crowd, and in the next second the sharp wing brushed against his head, and the hawk of Shan-Yu had torn the sword from his unsuspecting hands. The powerful bird soared to the roof of the palace, and he saw one of the grotesque figures there move suddenly, extend his hand and catch the sword in mid-air. The gargoyle straightened and transformed into the fearsome figure of Shan-Yu himself.
Mulan was right, after all. The most dangerous of Huns had survived the avalanche somehow.
The paper dragon behind Shang suddenly sprang to life. Half a dozen Huns jumped from the cover of multi-colored silk, knocked Shang down, grabbed the Emperor and disappeared behind the heavy doors of the palace before anyone could react.
"No!"
Shang could not believe it! The Emperor was kidnapped from under his very nose! But he was not about to give up without a fight.
The gang was already beside him, ready for action. Chien-Po pulled a heavy stone figure from somewhere, and they joined forces in attempt to break the doors with it. The rush of activity simulated some meaningful progress, but Shang knew that by the time they would reach the Emperor it would be too late.
Suddenly, there was a boy-like whistle from behind. Mulan, no, Ping was back.
"Hey, guys, I've got an idea"
Shang had to smile: 'We are desperate, my little water sprite. If you have an idea, it's the best chance we could ever hope for.'
The gang seemed to share his opinion. In fact, they dropped the statue at once, and followed Mulan somewhere around the corner of the Palace. While Shang was hesitating, full of shame and fear that she'd never be able to forgive him, the faithful trio was putting themselves at her disposal blindly, sure that she was smart enough to get the job done. Her quick wit was working to save China once more, the mischief bright in her eyes.
Once again, Ping turned her weakness into strength. No one paid attention to women? All right! We could sneak in as women and be invisible. She produced silk court dresses from nowhere, and the gang dressed up, ridiculous in the make-up and ladies scarves. Only the slim figure orchestrating the show seemed perfectly in it's rightful place.
Mulan was in the full swing of action. She seemed to accept his hesitation as a refusal to help, and he could not blame her for that. He was a jerk, and he knew it too.
Still he wanted to be by her side, if only she'd accept him. He touched her shoulder, much more hesitantly than he ever touched Ping. She swung around, to face his timid wordless plea. And she just smiled smile in response, with instant acceptation. Ping's grin was strangely in place on the face of the lovely girl Mulan. Gods, she was so forgiving. There was no other like her. He was drawn to her by the power beyond his will. Of course, he would go with her - anywhere, to fight Huns, to the end of Earth, to hell. But he did not dress up. He was glad no one asked him the reason: he did not want to admit even to himself that he'd rather die than look stupid in the eyes of this girl.
Somehow the command of the whole operation was in the hands of the girl, not the captain. She explained her strategy, positioned the attacking force, defence, and the back-up. In all honesty, Shang could not add anything to her tactical plan, even if he tried to. It looked like the strategic talents of captain Fa Zhou ran in the family.
But why is she so eager to help? Other soldiers have no choice, really, and besides, the success of the operation would bring them fame and glory. Mulan, if successful, would only attract attention of the officials, and will be subjected to disgrace and very possibly death again. Yet she was here, guided only by the love of her country. Her pure selfless heart gave them the strength, and her bright mind the means to save the emperor, and China. He stepped aside, resigning command, just watching her give precise and colourful instructions to the most preposterous bunch of concubines he'd ever seen.
"Any questions?"
"Does this dress make me look fat?"
Smack. Yao could always find a way to crack a silly joke at the most inopportune moment.
Shang's own task was pretty straightforward: wait till the boys distracted the guards, sneak in the room, punch out Shan Yu, get the emperor. Piece of cake. He had to admit, he was the best-qualified man for the job. Except that Shan Yu was known as a great warrior, and he was not sure he could take him one-on-one. Anyway, he'd do his best.
Carefully, they peaked in the hallway that led to the main balcony of the Palace. Huns had to be there by all indications. Sure enough, a guard was posted of several brawny Mongols, watching the entrance to the room. The gang proceeded according to Mulan's instructions. They sashayed towards the muscle-men, flirting like cheap street hookers.
"Concubines" commented one of them "Ugly concubines."
Shang could not deny that Mongols possessed a keen sense of observation.
Still, the guards made some flirtatious passes toward the cream of the Chinese army. Hmm. Abstinence must have hit them even harder than it had Shang. Imagine, the glorious moustache that Yao sported could attract any man, no matter how desperate he was.
If it would continue much longer, one of them was bound to blow the whole thing and explode in very masculine laughter. But the farce took another turn for the worse: the fruit the gang had collected to compensate for the missing parts of female anatomy rolled out of the Ling's cleavage.
The gig was up. But the guards were too stunned by the unusual phenomena to offer much resistance. The weird trio beat them to a pulp with the remnants of the fruit salad they extracted from the various parts of their clothing.
Shang was forever puzzled what the banana was meant to represent in Yao's understanding of feminine endowments, even though Shang considered himself quite an expert on women. At least before he met a certain water sprite. Now he had to admit defeat: if he'd ever be lucky enough to see her lovely body again, he would not be surprised to find a pair of wings on her back.
He was awakened from his contemplation by cry from Mulan:
"Shang, go!"
it was time for him to act. He pushed passed the fallen guards in a blink of an eye, and broke into the room where the Emperor was being held. There was Shan yu, pacing like a tiger around the Emperor.
"I am tired of your arrogance, old man. Bow to me"
these were the first words that Shang heard.
"No matter how the wind howls, the mountain can not bow to it" the Emperor answeres with all the calm and self-possession of a teacher explaining a lesson to an unpromising pupil.
"Then you will kneel in pieces"
Shan-Yu lifted his sword to deliver the deadly blow. But Shang was already there. He pushed the Emperor aside, and deflected the strike with his own sword.
The fury and strength of the barbarous Hun were terrifying. It took all the skill Shang had only to block the hurricane of his blows. But the gang came to his aid just at the right moment. Chien-Po picked up the Emperor, and followed Mulan's orders to slide down the rope from the balcony.
The Emperor was safe. The gang followed Chien-Po down the square, and was desperately calling Mulan and Shang to escape too. But the danger still existed: they had to keep the Huns in the palace at least until the cavalry would arrive.
Shan-Yu understood that his only chance for victory slipped away with the Emperor. He made a grab to follow him down the rope. But Mulan had found a way, yet again. She did not run, she cut the rope with Shan-Yu's own sword, effectively trapping them all on the balcony and preventing Shan-Yu from following her friends and the Emperor.
The heavy breathing of Shan-Yu turned into a scream when he realized that he was defeated. He turned to the only two humans that denied him his wish. Shang stepped in front of Mulan, to protect her with his life, if needed. Shan-Yu was raging for revenge.
Shang was an exceptional warrior, but the Hun was more than his equal. Shan- Yu was bigger and stronger than Shang, and was more experienced in combat. In a second Shang was pinned under the huge Mongol with the sword to his throat.
"You. You have taken away my victory" Shang knew he was about to be killed. But the small shoe hit Shan-Yu in the head and the defiant voice cried out:
"No. I have."
She pulled her hair back, and the proud face of the small soldier Ping looked straight into the eyes of the ferocious Shan-Yu.
"The soldier from the mountains." the voice of the Hun was full of awe and wonder. He lost all his interest in the fallen captain of the Chinese army, pausing only long enough to knock him out with a powerful headbutt.
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When Shang came to, he was alone in the room. Apparently, Shan-Yu did not consider him as much of the threat. Smart Hun - the real danger was not the big strong man, but the little lady. The enemy who was understood was always partly safe, it was the girl who represented the unknown variable, which could tip the scale.
There was no point in lying down on the job. The sounds of fighting were coming from outside. Was she still alive? That would make her a better fighter than her mentor. He himself had not lasted so long against Shan-Yu. Yet Mulan did not even have a sword. He had to do something.
Shang shook the last remnants of dizziness from of his head and ran out of the palace. The eyes of the crowd outside were fixed on the roof, and as Shang turned to look, he saw an outline of two figures there, the bulky shape of the Hun leader and the swift, tiny figure of a girl. She was still fighting, though she was unarmed and facing a greatly superior opponent. The girl's combat skills were to his credit, but it still wasn't wise. 'What are you doing, Ping!' thought Shang desperately 'You might be a water sprite, but this is too much even for you. Run, my love, there will be another chance to fight this monster. We could take him together, do not let him kill you so senselessly. '
She whipped out a fan, and used it to intercept and rip the sword away from her enemy. She was actually threatening Shan-Yu with his own sword! But instead of striking at him, she pinned the end of his garment to the roof.
This time Shang did not interpret her move as a mistake. There was always a method to her madness. Whatever she did, it was no accident, she must have had a plan. What was it? Did she summon an earthquake or thunderbolt from the heavens? He would not be a the slightest bit surprised.
And she did not disappoint her commanding officer. He never had time to see what actually happened. Suddenly, Shan-Yu whipped around with a look of horror on his face, and the next moment he was flying - literally - into the fireworks tower.
The sound of an explosion shook the ground under Shang's feet, and the fire lashed out toward the Palace roof. But the nimble, small figure was no longer there. She was flying herself, sliding down another cable supporting the festive lights. The lanterns were popping away in her wake, showering down in a glorious salute to the little hero.
Where did she get her ideas? And just how was she able to pull that last trick? There was no explanation. The forces that this girl commanded were beyond any sane mind. There was no sense in pondering it.
Right now, he had to get to her. Down the stairs he ran to catch her, but of course he was too late. Her small body hit him in the back, and there she was, on the floor by his side, shy smile ever in place. There was a loud clank behind him as the smoking sword of Shan-Yu landed a mere foot away. Shang did not even turn his head. All he wanted to see in this world was right in front of him, tired, disheveled, but safe and sound.
He could have stayed there forever, but in the next moment that annoying Chi Fu came fuming from the Palace right for them.
"It was a deliberate attempt on my life! Where is she?" whined the councilor. How dares that worm! "Now she has done it!"
The gang was already moving to shield their little comrade, but Chi Fu motioned them away.
"Stand aside, this creature is not worth protecting"
Shang loomed over the skinny bureaucrat menacingly, thinking: 'Yeah, right. First, you'd have to go through me, you bastard.'
"She is a hero!" he snapped
"She is a woman. She will never worth anything!"
'The worm! She just saved us all'. That was more than Shang could stand. He grabbed Chi Fu by the lapels of his shirt
"You pompous." but there was quiet and confident voice from behind.
"That is enough."
The emperor approached the group. There was no way Shang would let anyone judge Mulan harshly again:
"Your Majesty, I can explain."
But the Emperor silenced him with a single movement of his hand. He would obey for now. Shang moved aside, revealing Mulan for the eyes of the Emperor. She bowed ceremoniously, as if he were introducing herself to the royal presence at a formal gathering.
"I've heard a great deal about you, Fa Mulan. You stole your father's armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer." The dread grew in him with every word the Emperor spoke. "Dishonoured the Chinese army, destroyed my palace." they all were bending under the weight of emperor's accusations. He saw that Mulan, too, was cringing under the lashing. "And you have saved us all."
Shang wondered for a moment if the Emperor ever considered a career in performing arts, he was certainly good with dramatic effect. Then, again, a good politician was always a bit of an actor.
The emperor smiled at the beaming Mulan and unexpectedly bent his back in a deep bow. The honour that had Shan-Yu demanded in vain was given freely to a young girl-warrior. That was the greatest honour in China.
Chi Fu was first to recognize it. He dropped his pen and fell prostrate on the floor at the feet of the girl he claimed would never amount to anything. After him, everyone present knelt down before the saviour of China. Finally, the praise was given where it was due. At last Shang was able to express his awe and respect for the woman who deserved to be revered by all, and freely pay his homage to the little hero. He bent his large frame to the very ground itself, in imitation of the girl who had knelt proudly under his sword. So close to the small feet he worshiped, maybe for the last time in his life. 'This is what you deserved, my beloved, this great moment of honour before all the empire' was all he could think.
The emperor was speaking again:
"Chi Fu,"
"Your excellency?" the worm prepared his notepad and brush
"See to it that this woman is made a member of my council."
the faces of the weird trio were easy to read: 'Chew on that, you bottom feeder. '
"But there are no council positions open, your Majesty."
"Very well, you can have his position."
What? Chi Fu actually fainted, unable to appreciate the humour of the situation
"With all due respect, your Excellency," Fa Mulan lived up to the honour of her noble family, her voice was cultured and confident "I think I've been away from home long enough."
Good girl. Shang was pleased that she rejected the position in the Council. It was not her place among stupid counsellors like Chi Fu. He wondered though, if the Emperor was serious in the offer. Oh, she could do the job, no doubt about it. But the rest of the council would be rendered useless in comparison. The emperor smiled again:
"Then, take this, so that your family know what you have done for me." He took of his own crest of the Emperors and put it around the slim neck of the girl. "And this, so the world will know what you have done for China."
and he handed the famous sword of Shan-Yu to Mulan. She beamed like a child and threw her arms around the emperor's neck in sheer joy, as if he were her own grandfather. The old emperor melted into the kindest of smiles.
Shang realized what a lonely place the throne must be, and how isolated the untouchable emperor was. The sincere hug from a pure-hearted girl was more precious than the crown. Still, the move was great presumption. Even Yao could see the breach of Court etiquette.
"Can she do this?" Shang shrugged his shoulders, amazed. Apparently, this girl could do anything she wanted.
She paid her farewell to the emperor and turned to the gang. There was a joyous sloppy group-hug, and Chien-Po lifted them all off the ground.
Shang tensed in jealousy, but then happily realized that his turn was next. If she would hug him, he would be able to hug her back, press her to his chest. Surely, the grey bandage was still there, and she was still hurt. He would be as gentle as he could. But he would feel her body next to his for a few seconds, maybe smell her hair, like that time in the mountains... If only he knew then!
'Come on, girl, just one little hug for your commanding officer?' Of course, the blasted armor would get in the way, but who was he to be choosy? She was so small, his one arm could circle around her waist and return back to reach his own chest. She came, he opened his arms to her, but she did not make a move to hug him. Why? The gang, but not him? It could be that she was shy of the higher ranking, hell, she had no problem hugging the Emperor!
"You..." come on, hug me too! But all he got from her was an expectant smile
"You fight good..." he finally managed. Was he so repulsive for her?
"Oh..." there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. Well, he was disappointed too.
"Thank you."
'Real suave, Shang. What girl would be able to resist THIS approach'. But it was too late. She had mounted her steed, and was riding off the stairs.
"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." said the emperor, who came to stand by his side, watching the retreating girl go.
"Sir?..."
what did he mean?
The Emperor looked at him in annoyance, and decided to make it beyond plain for the young fool:
"You do not meet a girl like that every dynasty!" he gave Shang another stern look.
'Tell me about it, Your Majesty. You do not know the half of it.' Shang was sure a girl like this had never been born before, and will never come along again. And he would be damned if he let her slip through his fingers just like that! If the old and wise emperor believed that he had a chance with her, he would find that chance and would find a way to make it work. If Fa Zhou would request an adoption marriage, he would go for that, he would reject his own name. The Li family was one of the proudest families in the country, but Mulan made the Fa family outshine every noble clan that ever served the Emperor. If there ever was a girl worth fighting for, it was Mulan, and no price was too high.
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He was riding through the country, springtime in the air, the warm spring breeze smelling as sweet as Mulan's hair. Her village was just a half-day away from the capital on horseback, a pleasant ride. He had learned the location of her house from Chi Fu, and Yao had brought him her helmet which was found somewhere around the palace. Now he had both reason and excuse to seek Mulan out. His mood was much better. He knew why she did not hug him. It was for the very same reason that he could not bring himself to hug her. It still might not be too late. He was very eligible; her parents should have no problems with a son-in-law from the Li family. No, it was not too late yet.
The steady trot of his white horse lulled Shang into a half-dreaming state. He reflected on the past year with marvel and satisfaction. There was a lot of grief, and a lot to be proud of. Beyond any doubts, it was the most fascinating year of his life.
He was not quite sure when all that began. Maybe it was on the day they received the imperial orders. They stated that the main troops were supposed to move to the mountain ridge, to protect the capital from the north. That meant that the older warriors, the brave, seasoned soldiers he came to regard as his family, were about to leave the camp in the middle of the drafting campaign. He did not care about the arriving rookies much, but the prospect of getting in the real battle was exciting.
The General had punctured his enthusiasm, though. He explained with the great patience how he planned to move the forces, and what route he selected to reach the mountains. But he wished his son to stay behind, and train the new recruits. That was a bummer. He was dreaming of the quest for glory, hand in hand with the elite regiments of the Imperial army. Instead, he was supposed to baby-sit a bunch of country bumpkins who did not even know how to get on a horse.
Father had a consolation for him, though. Shang was left as the commanding officer of the newly recruited regimen, and received a new rank. A captain! There were very few men who achieved such a high rank in such a young age. It was a great honour. And, as any great honour, it caused jealousy around him.
Chi Fu, for starters. That paper-bug never liked him, or his father. Chi Fu was not fit to be a warrior, but was always worming into the best forces, hoping that some of the fame of victory would rub on him. Chi Fu was going to make his life as an officer as difficult as he possibly could.
Shang was so elated by his promotion, so proud of his new rank, he did not care about Chi Fu. He was somewhat upset that his father was leaving with the elite forces; but he hoped to deserve his father's trust. It would be tough, but he was going to create a new elite regiment from those boys! The finest in China!
He had to interrupt his daydreaming to see his father off. The fine white stallions of the pride of Chinese army thundered through the camp and disappeared in the curves of the dusty road.
Shang felt suddenly lonely, like a little boy left alone at home for the first time. He grew up as a soldier; he spent most of his life in camp, but he always had senior officers to lean onto if needed. Now he was alone, except for Chi Fu. But that man would more likely be more burden than help.
His first experience with his troops was worse than he expected. They were no soldiers. They were just some village bullies ready for a brawl, not for battle. They were as unkempt and unorganized as he ever saw people to be. As soon as he got out of his tent, he saw the kettle of rice overturned, and most of his new soldiers involved in the fistfight.
He had to yell his first orders in most undignified fashion to make himself heard. On his enquiry who started the brawl, all pointed at the smallest and the most innocent looking young boy he had ever seen in the army. The boy was clearly scared out of his wits, and curled in the fetal position on the ground. How in the world he could cause the all-camp fight, was beyond Shang.
Well, that was getting interesting. Now they sent children to the war! China must be hitting some hard times, if this was the best he could get as a recruit. What next? Babies? Women?
"What's your name?"
"I've got a name, and it's a boy's name, too." The boy muttered, apparently trying to remember.
A funny boy. thought Shang. Was that any way to answer to an officer? Was he so scared he forgot his own name? Some soldier.
Finally, the name was successfully recalled. Ping. The boy happened to come from the most honoured military clan!
Shang could not believe it. Captain Fa Zhou was a famous warrior, friend of his own father. How come he never knew that Fa Zhou had a son? There were rumours that he had a beautiful daughter, but nothing about the son. Strange. Usually men boast of sons, not daughters. However, there it was, the conscription issued for the Fa family.
Still, Shang had to ask:
"I did not know Fa Zhou had a son"
the boy seemed to shrink a little under his scrutiny.
"He does not talk of me much." he offered weakly
Illegitimate son, maybe? By a concubine? Resented by the main lady? Fa Zhou was known as a serious, solemn man, and deeply in love with his wife. He was not the type of man who would have mistresses. However, the boy was right here, in front of him, making some pitiful attempts to behave "like a man". Gods, it will be more difficult than Shang had ever imagined.
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His premonition was proved to be true in the following days. They seemed to be cursed by a chain of failures. The soldiers were an unruly bunch of scruffy village guys, with no idea what military discipline was all about. They obeyed the orders grouchily, were messy and slow to learn.
Four of them were the worst. One, a short guy with a shorter temper, the most obnoxious Yao was seeking self-gratification in defiance of Shang's authority. Yao nick-named him a "Pretty boy", and was cracking disrespectful remarks every time Shang turned his back.
The other one was skinny Ling, a harmless fellow really, but the laziest Shang had met in years.
The docile giant Chien-Po was simply too slow for the military, though his unbelievable strength and peaceful nature won him lots of friends.
The threesome were always together, best buddies and worst soldiers, united in the picking on the forth disaster of the camp, the infamous little soldier Fa Ping.
That one was just too young. He was eager to learn and trying really hard, but had neither strength nor stamina to become a warrior. The gang of three played quite a lot of mean jokes on poor boy. He was obviously hurt by such unexpected enmity, but never retaliated.
The boy was quite isolated, he did not mix much with other soldiers. He even avoided them at night, and lived a tiny tent of his own. He was such a helpless child in boot camp.
As the shortest in the regiment Ping was always on the far end of the row of soldiers. Shang could not help but to glance his way once every so often. Maybe it was awe and admiration in boy's huge dark round eyes that made Shang press even harder, and work at his best. He admitted to himself that he was showing off for the boy a little.
Off training time, boy was just as unhappy. Once after the sunset Shang walked upon Ping deeply in conversation with somebody invisible. The boy thought himself alone, unaware of Shang nearby. Shang was intrigued. What is it he was talking to? A short piece of red ribbon? Why would a boy talk to a ribbon?
Taking a second look, Shang saw that it was a stuffed animal, a little red dragon. Must have been a talisman from home. Shang remembered when he got his own toy dragon for the fifth of May. that Ping, he is such a child yet, still playing with toys. Poor boy, he must be really lonely among the rude soldiers.
Shang saw the toy dragon yet once more. During the training on the mountain crossing Ping fell under his burden. The boy was too exhausted; he could not even carry the light weight. But next to his elbow there was the little red toy dragon, sneaked on the training when the weight was so critical. Shang was so touched by Ping's childish innocence;
he only frowned at him and picked up his load to carry up the hill.
Why was the boy here on the first place? The whole purpose of their fighting was to protect the children like Ping, not to expose them to the murderous horror of the war. Shang made a decision. The boy must go home. He might run into some trouble for his attempt to save the child by sending him away, but he did not care.
That evening Shang confronted young Ping. He picked up the reins of Khan, and shoved them in the face of the boy.
"You're unsuited for the war, so pack up, go home. You're through"
the boy's face expression was genuinely hurt. Shang could only hope that Ping will be too consumed with his troubles to see trough Shangs lies. Of course it was sheer bull. If he would begin sending soldiers home because they are unsuited for the war, he would have no army to fight with. No man is ever born for the war. If being a bad soldier would be a ticket home, half of his troops will be gone right away, and the rest will be competing for the title of the laziest bum around.
Thankfully, the boy was too young and too idealistic. He took Shang's scolding at face value. He went away, his head bent, shoulders slumped, feet scuffing the ground.
Go, little soldier, return home and have a chance to grow up. I will answer for sending you away, but your blood will not be on my hands. I will miss you, child. Grow up to be a brave man, like your father, maybe then we'll meet again.
Shang saw the boy turn to glance at the tall pole in the center of the camp. On the very first day of training Shang planted an arrow on the very top of the pole, and ordered soldiers to retrieve it with heavy weights tied to their wrists. The task required more skill than he could teach the boys by then. The arrow stayed in the pole, reminding everyone of the long way yet to go. It was too much for him to watch the boy looking at the arrow as if some symbol of his failure, an unattainable goal. Shang turned on his heels and walked to the tent.
Next morning Shang was surprised by the sounds of joyful greetings in the camp. He stepped out to see what all the commission was about just as the arrow landed at his feet. What he saw made him happy and sad at once: a small, tired, slouching figure was sitting on the top of the pole, with the weights over his shoulder. Ping figured out how to beat the challenge, all by himself.
"Oh, Ping" muttered Shang, touched by the valiance of the boy "You, stubborn little devil. OK, you win. You can stay. But I'd much rather have you safe."
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Finally, things were looking up a bit. The strenuous training was beginning to pay off, and the unkempt villagers were starting to look like real soldiers.
What had surprised Shang the most, was that little Ping was shaping out in the best soldier of all. Sure, he was small, untrained and awkward, but at the same time he was ready to learn and most promising. Besides, he was the only one with brains in the whole camp.
Ping had that cute habit to nod happily and repeatedly when he got what was explained to him, and never was skeptical and lazy like others. Teaching him was always a pleasure. His fighting skills were also much better by now. Little wonder, considering the illustrious family he was coming from. Though still not really strong, Ping knew how to turn his weakness into advantage. Flexible and agile, he was a formidable opponent in sparring. But his strongest point was his quick wit that let him to come up with crazy, brilliant solutions. Too bad he was totally incapable to comprehend the meaning of "impossible". One day it would get him in trouble.
Yet, Shang had to admire his ability to take problems as possibilities, obstacles as challenges, his own weakness as a tool to outsmart the opponent. Ping was getting along with others now, and was gaining some respect.
For the longest time Shang could not understand why the little soldier occupied so much of his mind at the time. The thought of the boy felt like a warm smile. He was different, all right. He was so gentle, patient and kind, not like any other man he ever met in the army. Maybe that was because he came from a good family and must be spoiled. Well, if he is, he is spoiled in the good way: a proud, able boy. Fa was the most respected family. And this boy will be the best achievement of the noble clan.
Ping was a rider, the only one in the camp other than himself. The boy was truly part of the horse. Khan was a huge black steed, but Ping sat so naturally. His mounting is a single fluid motion and on full speed he defied gravity. There was a special bond between the horse and the boy: Shang saw him more than once running to his horse for comfort; probably the black steed was the only piece of home the boy had, and Ping was taking painstaking care of his huge four-legged friend. In response, Khan seems rather protective of the small soldier.
Well, Shang was getting rather protective himself. His amusement with boy's antics was mixed with almost father-like pride. Somehow Ping found his way in Shang's heart. Ping was such a sweet boy: light figure with a bit rounded bottom, fine bone structure of the face, noble countenance and good breeding. He would be very handsome one day when he grows up. His figure would become taller and wider; his face would lose this graceful, almost feminine roundness of lines.
In fact, if he'd meet a girl with a face like this, with such dark eyes full of mischief, he'd be in some danger... These soft lips, so ready to smile. Shang knew every smile of Ping and had categorized them in his heart. There was a piqued smile of interest, and an open grin, and a tight smirk that oozes the sweetest poison. And then a quirky grin in friendly banter, a happy smile, an embarrassed baring of the white teeth. Not to forget a victorious beam after overcoming a challenge, and a crooked smile when he had outsmarted the opponent and was in complete control.
That last one was one of his favorites, along with the wistful look Ping was wearing right now. They were seated around the campfire that sent a warm glow on Pings golden skin, underscoring the tender blush on peach-like rounded cheeks. Ping had no facial hair at all, just how old was the boy?
Soothed by the roar of the fire, Shang was dosing right there, in the middle of the camp. He heard soldiers slowly getting up to turn in for the night, but he was too deliciously relaxed to get to his tent just then. There was a pleasant dream at the edge of his sleep-hazed mind; he did not want to force it away. Gradually, he slipped in the land of dreams, so happy, so untroubled.
There was a golden-skinned girl, slim, so lovely. her face was familiar, it was the face of Ping, with his quirky grin. Soft lips, silver laughter, shimmering dark eyes under heavy lashes. Ping's small frame fitted so perfectly in Shang's arms, his kisses were sweet beyond belief. PING! Shang woke up in horror, realizing that he was dreaming of a boy as a lover! He jumped up, and run to the stream to cool his sinful body, wash away the terrible dream.
He was not like that! He knew some men loved young boys, but not him. He was never attracted to a man in his life! He had his share of women. It was a pleasant experience, though not as exiting as some praised it to be. Then, again, the women he was with were such empty-headed dolls. He could admire their beauty, just as he admired a flower - one moment, to be forgotten in the next. Was he wrong? Was he a boy lover deep inside? It did not seem right. He thought about other boys he knew. No, he felt nothing at all. Only Ping - or, rather, if only Ping was a girl.
That was a nice thought. One day, he would find a girl like Ping. Witty, bright-eyed, lively girl. And he would win her. That would be right. Not Ping - the girl. Ping had a sister what if she was a lot like Ping? No, siblings were never that much alike. Besides, the existence of a girl as bright, opinionated and sweet as Ping was impossible. No way.
Shang just could not accept that he was so dirty. What would his father say if he knew that his son was a pervert? No. He would fight it. At least, for the pure and innocent young boy he will overpower this degradation. He will stay away from Ping, avoid the pleasure of his company. will not look at him, if he can help it. Ping would remain as one of the soldiers, maybe a friend one day. He would love him like a younger brother and avoid as an enemy. Maybe one day he would have a son like Ping, as intelligent and stubborn, with that girl he invented.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the next few days Shang managed to stay away from Ping, more or less. The girl with the face of Ping was now a sole subject of his dreams, but at least during his waking hours Shang had come control over his thoughts. He saw that Ping noticed a change in his attitude and tried to figure what he did wrong. It was killing Shang to see how the boy was trying to make up for whatever was his imaginable fault. But it was for the best. He would only have to restrain himself a little longer, soon the training will be completed and the soldiers may be sent to different regiments. If he will just hold on a bit more, Ping will be safe from his degradation.
Shang was trying to cut the remaining time of training as short as possible. He actually attempted to talk to Chi Fu, explaining that the boys were ready for the war. Of course, all he got from Chi Fu was a bunch of insults. Shang could not stand it much longer. Chi Fu could not possibly understand. Shang rose angrily and walked out of the tent.
Sure enough, Ping was right there, fresh and pink-faced from the evening swim. Somehow he heard the last words of Chi Fu "they are no more fit to be soldiers than you fit to be captain." Ping seemed to take it as a personal offence. He even offered to hold Chi Fu for Shang to punch! Poor, naïve boy. Shang only shook his head and moved away from the temptation. Still, he heard Ping saying shyly:
"for what it worth, I think you are a great captain"
Shang's heart was wrenched by such innocence, such pure heart. It worth a lot, my sweet boy, more than you'd ever know. Strangely, this incident helped him to find strength to fight his demons. Maybe he was perverted, but at least he had chosen as an object of his unspeakable passion the purest soul and the brightest mind he had ever met. He would find the strength in that; he would never betray Ping's innocent trust.
That very night a letter arrived from the General. Exited Chi Fu forgot everything he just told to Shang. They were moving out. Finally, the boys from the boot camp were becoming real soldiers, ready to join his father in the battle.
The travel brought some degree of variety in the regiment life. They were on the march most of the time, passing through the beautiful country they were sworn to defend. Soldiers were tired, but Shang welcomed the fatigue. It distracted him from the thoughts of Ping during the day, and his sleep at night was too heavy for dreams most of the time.
He got more accustomed to the boys. They were all right, after all. Even Yao and his buddies were not so bad. A weird bunch, but OK. Always ready to crack a joke, to lighten the mood. He could see them becoming good friends sometime, if they would survive this campaign.
In the early pre-dawn hour, Shang woke up with a start. He had another dream, almost forgotten already; only Ping's soft hands, sweet lips lingered in mind. It was yet too early to get up, but sleep had left him completely. Uncertain grayish light crept in the narrow opening of the tent flap; voices of the first birds, still unsure and weak, were
greeting the coming sunrise. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep, in less than an hour he will have to give the rising signal to the entire camp. Maybe a quick dip in the lake will clean up his head a little from the constant confusion he had about that stubborn little soldier of his. Besides, in this early hour he was sure to have the lake all for himself.
He had always loved early mornings. The fresh dump smell of the grass reminded him of the fishing adventures he had as a boy, back in his father's home. Soft earth of the forest path silenced his steps, so that the walk seemed unreal, like floating through the morning fog.
He reached the lake a few minutes before the first rays of the sun touched the treetops on the nearby hill. The water was glistening between swirling wisps of fog like polished steel. The dark shadows of the trees, ghostly outlines of the reeds through the morning mist in the first silvery light created a sight of unearthly enchantment. Shang had to remind himself why he came here on the first place. He shook off the magical eerie charm of the lake and got to the task of bathing. Shang tossed his clothing on the branch of the tree and stepped in the water, still faintly-warm from the heat of the previous day.
The swim was so pleasant that he was deliberately prolonging it, enjoying the cool water flowing over his skin. Sun had barely touched the hilltop, and the lake was yet hiding in the silent mystery of foggy darkness. It was so quiet, he could hear the fish splashing water on the other side of the lake. So peaceful. so easy to forget everything about war, Huns, camp full of soldiers.
The sound of the splash repeated from the same corner of the lake. Must be the best fishing spot somewhere there. Maybe he should take a look. They are staying here for another night; he might take the boys fishing.
A few quiet leisurely strokes brought him closer to the spot he thought the sound came from. There was it again, closer to the shore. He straggled to see in the deceiving morning light. There was something dark moving away from him, but it looked nothing like a fish. Some water animal, maybe? Not wanting to scare it away, he was treading the water quietly, watching its progress toward the grassy bank.
What happened next, made him cease his movements, nearly drowning himself. The rounded dark object rose from the water on the support of the slim white neck, narrow shoulders, graceful back. He blinked twice, not believing what he was seeing. Of course, there could be no young and beautiful woman here, alone, many miles away from any village. Girls of such beauty are guarded by their parents or husbands like the most precious of treasures, and never let to wander in the secluded forest lakes in the view of the army camp. Indeed, it was no regular girl. Who was she? Were the legends about the water sprites true? Was he seeing the enchanted guardian of the lake?
He felt himself able to believe anything at that point. She was just too lovely for a mortal woman. She seemed inseparable from her surroundings: the lake, the mist, the morning dew, and the smell of the wet leaves. She was as beautiful, pure and untouched as this tranquil lake in the forgotten forest. and he would give his life to touch her. His awareness of her was physically obvious now, despite the cool water.
What's wrong with you, Shang? A boy soldier, a dream girl, a water sprite. his abstinence must have been for too long, it was becoming dangerous for his immortal soul. In his embarrassment he made a careless move, and splash of water resounded over the lake's surface.
The water sprite turned warningly, trying to listen to the sound. The small breasts, the slim waist twisted in the taut spring of attention, the huge dark pools of her eyes, her white, lithe form against the dark foliage she was just. perfection. She might have seen something, or heard maybe, because her small hands came up in an attempt to cover herself. Then she bolted behind the tree, and simply disappeared from the view.
In half a dozen powerful strokes, Shang swam to the spot where the vision appeared, and climbed on the shore to see if there were any traces of her. He rushed through the bushes, unheeding of the noise he was making or his own nakedness. Well, some parts of him did call for attention, efficiently proving his view of his own sexual orientation. That was no reaction of a boy lover. Well, she was gone, disappeared without a trace, as a little nymph she was. And he was making a fool of himself.
He was thinking of the vision on the lake all day, through the routine of the camp life and later in the evening. He walked around in hope to find a house or village that the girl might had come from, he even asked soldiers if they seen any people around, but they were alone in the entire valley.
He returned to the lake after dark, but the water sprite was too scared or too stubborn to show herself again. By morning he was convinced that it was indeed a supernatural apparition. He'd seen women of different states of life in his time, but none could compare with the girl he met a morning before. Peasant girls were never as graceful; their build was too crude, disfigured by the manual work. Noble girls never had such toned bodies, with cat-like strength and natural grace. No, his charming spirit of the lake did not belong among mortal women.
Shang's head was light after the sleepless night. It did not matter much: the day was dedicated for a lengthily march that constituted the last leg of their journey. The troops were sufficiently schooled by now, and keeping them in order did not require much concentration.
He was dozing in the saddle, half-wondering about his adventure in the forest, half-listening to the chatter of the soldiers. He knew that he was trying to keep his thoughts on the water sprite, because it was much safer subject than the one he forbade himself.
Still, he was always aware where precisely Ping was at any moment of time. At that point, Ping was forced to participate in the discussion on the most popular subject: girls. While other guys were always bragging over their victories, Ping had never joined them. Perhaps he was too young to have much experience.
But somehow Shang believed that it was good breeding of the worthy son of Fa clan. There was something inconsistent in Ping's behavior with women. He was painfully shy, clearly uncomfortable when girls in the villages where they stayed overnight tried to flirt with a cute young soldier.
Shang could understand the bashfulness of the young boy. But then once he witnessed as a pleasure girl made a shameless pass on him, pressing her assets to the boy in the most compromising manner. A grown man might have been shaken under such assault. But Ping only brushed her off contemptuously, and did not even blush. Shang did not hear what he said to the woman, but she retreated in shame and behaved much more modest the rest of the evening.
It just did not add up. On one hand, Ping had a very sober concept of women, and never idealized them. On the other, his ideas of them were somewhat naïve. He talked of them as equal, almost comrades, capable of reasoning and decision-making. One day he'll have to learn that they were only brainless pretty dolls, petty and vain, nothing to inspire such respect in the bright boy like Ping. Though, an idea of an intelligent and admirable woman was very attractive indeed. Too bad such women never existed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were climbing higher and higher in the mountains, chatting amiably. The next turn was going to bring them in the direct view of the village where his father's forces were located. He felt a pleasant anticipation, a joy of showing his father the newest and well-trained troops of China. Father would be glad that his son proved to be a worthy captain. That was some achievement, to make soldiers out of ruffians like Yao and kids like Ping.
Shang tried not to look at the boy directly. It was enough to see his footprints on the snow. It was easy to pick Ping's out; they were half of the size of the next smallest foot in the regiment. Shang smiled: many ladies would kill for such little feet.
As they passed the curve of the road, Shang felt that something very wrong was in the village. There was no customary noise of the human habitat, no life signs of the village, only bitter smell of smoke in the air. But nothing prepared him for the horror of what he saw. The village was burnt to cinders, all people apparently killed. There was no sign of the army anywhere.
"I do not understand. My father should have been there."
There was no time to contemplate the unexplainable. His duty was to take care of the situation as he had found it. First, to estimate the damage and to help those who could be helped. He turned to his horror-stricken soldiers and gave a brisk order:
"Search for survivors"
They walked from house to house, but there was no one found in the entire village. The only thing remotely human was a small doll that Ping found among the coals. Another reminder of the innocent souls they failed to protect. The little mistress of this doll would never need it again, and who knows how terrible her last minutes were. An uncertain sound from Chien- Po attracted his attention. The sad giant was holding something in his hands oh, so familiar.
"The General."
Shang's mind could not at first grasp the significance of the dented helmet of his father that Chien-Po was giving to him. He moved unthinkingly after the soldiers, to the edge of the cliff.
There it was the army of his father. Utterly demolished by some unimaginable force, twisted bodies frozen in the snow, weapons and banners scattered around. So that's was where the finest troops of China found their tragic end. That was where Shang lost his father.
Shang was strangely aware of his feet, firmly planted in the cold snow, strained rigidly. He was sure he could not make another step. Never again he will hear fascinating tales of the heroic history of China from his father. Never again he will hear restrained praise of gentle reproach from him. No more lessons on strategy or tactical planning. No more warm pat on the back when things look too gloomy. The only man he loved, his only family was gone. He will never have a chance to make his father proud of him. He was utterly alone in the world.
Yao retrieved the sword of the General. The sword that seen days of such glory was found in the pile of rubble next to his father's body. Shang reverently accepted the sword, and placed it in his scabbard. His own sword he inserted in the frozen ground at the edge of the cliff and covered with his father's helmet, as a memorial for his father and his slain warriors.
He remained there for a few moments, praying to ancestors and to the soul of his father that joined them so untimely. He was called out of his reverie by a small warm hand gently placed on his shoulder. Ping's eyes were full of sincere sympathy:
"I am sorry" he said softly, hiding his eyes
Shang rose to his feet. That was not a time for despair. He placed his own hand on Ping's shoulder. The boy was so small next to Shang. Yet, he might have been best friend Shang ever had. Shang was not alone after all.
He turned away. From the corner of his eye he saw a hand with long tapered fingers placed the doll next to the sword. Ping's gentle heart paid the last respect to the innocent lives lost in the war as Shang honored the fallen warriors. Shang was touched by the gesture, but the time was pressing. Huns must been approaching the capital at that very moment.
"We are the only hope for the emperor now. Move out." Shang cryed out, managing somehow to sound collected and business-like. He was a soldier first and foremost, and a son second.
They were pushing through the deep snow, cold to the core. All supplies and cannons they had were loaded on the only cart they had with them. Powerful Khan was pulling the cart, with ping walking by his side.
Suddenly sound of explosion reached Shang. He turned to see that one of the cannons came to life for no apparent reason, sending the rocket high in the sky, pinpointing their position to anyone watching. Ping was a couple of yards in front of the cart, and the rocket obviously came from the inside through freshly-made hole, so there was no way Ping could have anything to do with it. But Shang was blind with anger anyway:
"What happened? You just gave away our position" he lashed out at the young soldier.
Ping just looked at him under such undeserved scolding. There was no point venting his frustration on the boy. The situation was serious enough.
His fear was justified in the next moment. An arrow came from nowhere, hitting him in the shoulder. Armour protected him, but more arrows were raining down on the unprotected troop.
"Get out of range" he yelled over the noise of panicking people.
Soldiers were scrambling for the cover of the rocks. The rain of arrows was so dense, it seemed that the sky got darker. Some of arrows were carrying burning rags, and one of them hit the cart with all the cannons. If they would explode, they'd kill most of his soldiers and leave the rest of them unarmed and defenceless. He had to save the cannons.
Obeying his hoarse order, the boys begun to unload the cart in the haste. But flames were consuming the cart too fast. There was no way they could save all the cannons. He had to protect the soldiers from the coming explosion.
He ordered a retreat. He saw that Ping swung his sword to free Khan of from the harness. Even in the face of the danger boy did not forget his horse. He barely had time to move away from the cart before it exploded.
They all run under cover and prepared to use the cannons. It was a pleasure to see how well his soldiers worked under the stress of the real battle. All the movements were smooth, economical. The fire was organized and precise. The clouds of smoke hid the enemy forces, but there was no more arrows coming at them. To be safe, Shang ordered to save the last cannon.
As the smoke cleared, their spirit slowly sank. All surrounding slopes were black from the masses of the enemy forces. Shang never fathomed the size of the army that Shan-Yu brought in China. And he was alone against it now. So that's how the best regiment of is father was destroyed.
There was no force to withstand such attack in the entire China. It was the worst nightmare of any officer: a handful of the foot soldiers surrounded from three side by the whole army, squeezed in the bottom of the small valley at the edge of the cliff. Just a few green recruits that had never been to the battle - against huge horde of seasoned Mongolian warriors.
There was no way out. The only choice was to die with honour, with full knowledge that this sacrifice would be in vain. The best they could possibly do was to take out a few of the enemy. That would make no difference in the war. Still, he would do his best. May be, if he'd get lucky, he'd be able to take one of the higher officers of Shan-Yu with them to the land of the dead. But it was a small consolation for such a senseless death.
He put all his soul into training these boys, only to see them slain in the very first battle. They became as dear to him as friends. Ping! The boy would die too! That thought was a harder blow than the perspective of his own imminent death. But what could be possibly done? These barbarians have no mercy. Shang gave his last order to his soldiers:
"Prepare to fight. If we die, we die with honour" If he'd be honest, he'd say, "when we die." there was no hope, and he knew that. Poor Ping, he'd never grow up to become a man he was promising to be.
A deafening Mongolian war cry shattered the air. Huns were rolling down the hill, like a black avalanche. There was no power in the world to stop them. Shan-Yu himself was riding in front of his army, flaunting his monstrous power. Shang was trying to come with some idea to tip the scale in their favour. Shan-Yu was a presentably large aim by now. It was a long shot, but worth trying.
"Aim the last cannon at Shan-Yu!" he ordered. Yao carefully set the cannon on the ground to aim it as best as he could. The rest of the soldiers bared their swords and assumed the defence stance.
A sudden movement among his soldiers caught Shan's attention. Ping had sheathed the sword, shouldered Yao aside and grabbed the last cannon. The boy started down the hill in a mad dash, as if to intercept the Huns on their attack. There was a sense of purpose and urgency in every move of the boy. He had a plan, apparently too complex or too crazy to explain it.
About halfway between them and the Huns, Ping stopped and set the cannon on the ground. Was he trying to take the oncoming Shan-Yu personally? An admirable courage. He just could succeed in that.
But he was aiming too high, why? Usually, his aim was the best among the boys. Could he be too nervous?
He obviously had dropped the matches, and was looking all around in the snow for them. Shan-Yu was getting too close! A few more strides, and he would swing his vicious sword at the helpless boy.
Soldiers saw the predicament Ping got himself in and ran toward him, even knowing that they would never be in time to help. Shang himself could not help but go out to the young foolish hero.
But Ping did not pay any attention to friends or enemies. He kept working, even with Shan-Yu only a few yards away. Somehow he got the fire going, and crouched behind the cannon to aim it just right.
Oh, no, the boy was not nervous at all. He actually smiled at Shan-Yu through the aim of the cannon, and then slowly, deliberately lifted it well above the head of the charging enemy, and let the rocket fly.
Did he lose his mind? There was no way he could miss the huge form of Shan- Yu a mere three feet away.
Shang was already close enough to see a slow confident smile spreading on the childish face of the boy. No, it was no miss.
Shang followed the retreating cannon with his eyes, and saw it sink in the snow hanging from the sharp mountain peak overlooking the valley. The snow muffled the explosion, so insignificant, harmless on the vast chest of the mountain.
Then it downed on him. Gods, the child was a genius. He just saved them all, the capital, China itself. He destroyed the whole army with one shot. The snow cornice was slowly sinking down the hill, engaging wider and wider wing of the avalanche.
Down in the valley, Shan-Yu raised his sword at the boy who did not even attempt to defend himself. Instead, Ping grinned. Shang knew that grin: the young boy, unarmed, half the size of the most feared warrior in the world, smiled smugly, in total control of the situation.
Shang was stunned by admiration. That was the most brilliant plan any one ever came with, and most courageously executed. He was owed at the thought that he just witnessed a birth of a hero of China. Ping knew he might die in a moment, but he had won already.
Shan-Yu glanced back, and then again at the small fearless figure crouching on the snow. The rumble of the avalanche was gaining on the enormous army of Hans. There is a horrified respect in the dark eyes of the Shan-Yu. Chinese had foiled his plans. Even if they all die, they will take Hans with them and will save the capital.
Shan-Yu swung the sword, slicing Ping's mid-section. Ping moved back in attempt to avoid the strike.
Was he all right? The boy was alive, at least. He got up and ran, using the moment when Shan-Yu is torn between fear of the death and concern for his army.
The avalanche was already swallowing the first rows of Huns. In another minute, it will sweep the place where the small Chinese troop was. Since the terrifying wall of snow was coming from behind the Mongols there was some chance for Chinese to escape from it.
Ping's small hand grabbed Shang's one and pulled him in the break-neck run downhill, away from the danger. Events were unfolding so fast that Shang could barely keep track of them, leave alone to have any control.
Only now, running downhill with the small warm hand in his he realized the enormity of what happened. The Hun's army was utterly destroyed, they won. The nature defended her own. If only they could escape themselves. But it did not matter much. The Huns were stopped. The capital was safe.
The snow under his feet began to move as the treacherous waters of the sea. The avalanche was catching up with them. Shang lost his footing, and Ping's fingers desperately holding his hand slipped from his grasp. The wave of the snow covered him and carried down to the cliff. When Shang surfaced again, he saw that Khan was making his way to his little master, braking through the snow with his powerful chest.
Ping managed to grab the reins and a second later he was on the horseback. The relief that Ping had a chance was overwhelming for the man who was sliding to his own death. The snow hit him again, and he blacked out. When he came to, his eyes went to the only light of his life. What in the world was he doing? Instead of riding to safety, Ping turned
Khan down, and was racing the avalanche down. He heard desperate, childish cry:
"Shang!"
It was impossible. The boy actually thought he could save his commander. He never learned when to stop. What was even more amazing, that he was really gaining on Shang. There was that small hand again, reaching for his. Shang grabbed it desperately, but a new tide of raging snow swallowed him, breaking the contact.
Semi-conscious, Shang felt that Ping pulled him across the saddle. How could a small boy do it? He heard about the feats people accomplished with the strength of the desperation, but it was still unbelievable. The boy was incredible.
Unfortunately, it was too late for them both. The flood of snow pulled them further down the slope, and suddenly Shang felt that he was falling, along with Khan and Ping still holding on him. At least they will be together till the last was Shang's last thought before he blacked out.
He never knew how they were pulled to safety. He felt hands trying to open his armour, and heard voice:
"Get back, guys, give them some air!"
For a moment, he could not believe that he was still alive. He long lost counts of the miracles that Ping could pull through in a matter of minutes. He opened heavy lids and sought the boy out. He was right there, panting on the ground.
Shang put his hand on boy's shoulder:
"You are the craziest man I ever met. And for that, I owe you my life. From now on, you have my trust"
No kidding. You can have my life, boy. I am honoured to be with you when you pulled THAT trick on Huns. Other boys were too overcome with excitement:
"Let's hear it for Ping, the bravest of us all"
That what you think, Ling, thought Shang wryly. The boy is the bravest of any warriors that ever lived.
There was such light of joy in the dark eyes of Ping. He rose to face Shang, but then unexpectedly moaned in pain and brought one hand to his stomach. The hand came out drenched in blood, the boy looked at it in surprise on the young face and suddenly swayed.
No, not that, not now! The sword of Shan-Yu, it got you after all. Shang could see that the Ping's consciousness was slipping away, and haze of death swimming in the beautiful dark eyes.
"He is wounded! Get help!!!" he heard the hooves of Khan almost immediately. He did not even turn to see who was dispatched to bring the doctor. All he cared for was the boy that was slowly sagging in his arms.
"Hold on" it was half-prayer, half order. He could not lose the boy! He was the only living being he really cared for.
"Hold on, Ping"
But Ping could not hear him any more. He was lying there, a little prone on the snow.
Shang gathered him in his arms, and carried to the hastily erected tent. Ping was so tiny, so light, a mere child. Shang had almost forgotten that behind this intelligent and courageous young soldier with unwavering smile was a young boy, no more then fifteen by his looks. A child, like a son.
Shang pressed his lips to the pale cool forehead of the boy in his arms. The boy's hair smelled something sweet and long forgotten. How could so small of a body hold so much life?
Where was the doctor?! This boy did too much for China to die because of some lazy loaf. Just hang on for a bit longer here, little buddy. We'd get that village charlatan to patch you up a little, so it would be safe to take you on the horseback. I'll carry you so carefully, you wouldn't feel a thing. The capital was right down here. We'd be there in no time. Then, you'd have the best doctors and the best care there was, better than Emperor himself got. Just don't die on me, my boy. You have too much to live for. You'd see, all China would know about the magnificence of your sacrifice, your unparalleled courage and your brilliant mind. You'd become most trusted and most admired man in the country, just hold on. Why did you have to risk you life yet again, for me, beloved. Even when hurt, you thought of others, my little hero, my friend.
Finally, the doctor came. He was from the nearby village, an old, experienced fellow. He took one glance at devastated Shang, nodded and took over. Shang was evicted from the tent, and now was pacing around it, almost mad with worry.
The trio of the soldiers explained to him how Ping saved them both, shooting the arrow with the rope for them to pull the horse up. Shang was no longer surprised. There was never a hero like Ping in the Chinese army.
But he was too young to die. The scar from Shan-Yu was an honour for any warrior, if only he could live to tell about it. As far as Shang knew, no one ever survived the wound from the hands of Shan-Yu. But Ping has to be the first. He was already the first to defeat the terrible Hun, he will be the first to recover from his sword. If he survives, Shang would take him to his father personally, and tell the heroic tale of the young boy.
At last the doctor climbed out of the tent. Shang zeroed on him like a hawk on the prey.
"How is the wound?" he asked anxiously.
The doctor saw that soothing the desperate captain was a matter of his own survival:
"It will be all right, the sword did not penetrate the abdominal cavity, the life is not in danger." He crooned soothingly, "There is a substantial loss of blood and shock, but it will pass. I have bandaged the wound, and administered some droughts. Rest for a few days is all that's needed for a full recovery. She is a healthy girl, she will make it if you will take a good care of her"
"Girl?!"
he did not understand for a minute. Then he yanked the flap of the tent away and strode to Ping's bed. He (she?) was awake, and rose swiftly on the bed to meet him, smiling shyly and adoringly, as always. The blanket fell of, baring slim arms, fragile shoulders and the grey bandage spiralling up from the tiny waist to the gentle swell of her
breasts.
There was no doubt about the gender of his best soldier. Ping had been lying to him from the start. He was hiding the girl of his dreams right under his nose. Shang frowned at her in disbelief. Ping or whatever her name was grabbed the blanket to cover herself, and cringed in shame at his stern look.
"I can explain" she muttered in a soft, desperate voice. 'I just bet you can.' thought Shang. So he was not going crazy over a boy after all. The pieces of the puzzle were falling together: the attraction to the boy, the dreams of the girl.
The water sprite! Of course! There was never any sprite, just Ping taking a morning swim! So that's what this boy was hiding under the soldier's garb.
The desire to touch her, to prove to himself she was real at last was almost overwhelming. Shang had to make a step back and cross his arms in front of him to stop his hands from reaching for her.
She deliberately deceived him to drive him crazy! No, it was impossible: she never knew about him. She was already in the camp and dresses as a boy when he first saw her.
What was he thinking! It was never about him! A noble creature like Ping was above personal deceit. There must be some other reason.
The little impostor! All that vexation he went through in the last few weeks, it was for nothing! If he only knew that the boy he was going crazy about was actually a girl, that his errant lust was not a perversion after all! He would. What? Take her to his tent? Make her a mistress? Impossible. She was from the Fa family.
Yet, he was absolutely sure that he'd be unable to stand having his enchanted little water sprite in the regiment and not press his attention on her. Marry her? Who ever heard of an officer marrying one of his soldiers? Proper marriage for a man of his status must be arranged by a matchmaker, and conducted in the traditional and dignified way. No, even as a girl she was just as unapproachable as Ping ever was. But. That was before she saved China. Now, it was even more complicated. With a girl of such courage and ingenious mind he was clearly out of his league. The only benefit his new knowledge gave him was to dream of her without remorse, he thought a bit sheepishly.
Chi Fu stormed in the tent and Shang left at once, he just needed a moment to get his thoughts together. But he underestimated the hypocrisy of the counsellor: the scrawny worm pulled the sick girl out on the snow, exposing her before the soldiers. He yanked the string tying her hair, and it fell down, framing a young pretty face.
Shang recognized these slender shoulders all too well. The blanket she was desperately clutching to her chest had nothing to hide from him. The small white figure he once saw in the morning mist was forever in his heart. The girl gathered her courage to speak:
"My name is Mulan" a water sprite named Mulan. how appropriate. "I did it to save my father"
Shang was startled. Father! He just lost his own, he felt that so acutely. Of course! Fa Zhou was gravely wounded in his last battle, he would never be able to sit on a horse or fight again. His own father was wondering if his friend would be able to walk... A daughter like Mulan would not be able to watch her father going on a suicide mission. Shang himself would die to protect his own father. He expected nothing less from Ping.
"Please, believe me" she was pleading
and in his heart Shang could not help to answer: 'I believe you, my little soldier. 'But Chi Fu was not satisfied. He appealed to the old law, demanding the execution of the impostor. The law! Shang was so shocked by the revelation, so relieved that he was not crazy, he forgot all about the law. It stated clearly, that any woman who impersonated a man was to be put to death. To death!
Chi Fu was looking straight at him. Than it dawned on Shang: not only the monstrous sentence for Mulan was certain, he, Shang, was supposed to execute it. It could not be real, it must be some horrendous nightmare. He was not alone in his resentment of the unfolding cruelty. The friends, even the horse seemed ready to protect her. But Chi Fu was unfazed.
"Restrain him" he pointed at Khan. Then he gestured to stop the soldiers who moved to defend the girl:
"You know the law"
What kind of law would demand the murder of an innocent child! He just found the best girl in the world. And the law was forcing him to murder her! He had served that law all his life; he was bound by it. It was his pride to put the honour before personal feelings. Now, he did not know what honour was. To kill the helpless wounded girl? To repay with death for saving his and everyone else' hide? That was honour? That was what he had devoted his life for? Then he was damned along with the rest of them. They were killing her, because they did not deserve to live on the same earth with her.
Shang lifted the sword. Detachedly, he observed that this was the second time today that a sword was lifted above her head. The first had been Shan- Yu's.
Mulan lifted her eyes valiantly to meet his. There was no reproach, no anger in her eyes, only acceptance of her fate - and pride. His eyes were fixed on her, trying to absorb every smallest detail, imprint the torturous image in his mind forever. Something was breaking inside him, and he knew for certain that he'd never be the same. She lowered her head in gesture of a proud submission. This small, half-naked girl on the snow was a picture of noble dignity, and he felt humbled in comparison.
Then he felt it descending upon him, a moment of absolute clarity. That was it, the emotion that he read about in the famous poems and never truly believed in. His little pupil taught him what no other teacher before could: the love that was more magnificent than glory and nobler than honour.
It was so simple, after all. He never intended to strike her. How could he? In the very beginning he was prepared to accept responsibility for letting Ping go. Now he would accept the punishment for saving Mulan as the greatest of honours. All he had to do is make it look good for Chi Fu.
"A life for a life, my debt is repaid" he said, hating himself
What a joke. You saved all our lives today, and all those in the capital. You avenged my father. This debt can never be repaid. You saved my own life more than once, and how have I paid you back? Your only crime being too loyal to those you love, and being too brave. There is no one like you, Ping, Mulan. A beautiful name. I wish there were a way to do more for you, my love. 'The contemptible worm Chi Fu was trying to make some noises to the effect that they should not leave Mulan alive. Shang's patience was wearing thin.
"I said, move out" he snapped at the sniveling Chi Fu.
They drove off, leaving the wounded girl alone on the mountaintop. Shang never felt so bad about anything in his life before. He saw that the Gang left some blankets and food for Mulan, but pretended he did not notice. He hated himself for being unable to help her. He smiled humorlessly. Her former tormenters took care of her. Obnoxious Yao left his own blanket, lazy Ling gathered her few belongings together, glutton Chien-Po spared some of the food. And he, noble Li Shang, threatened to kill her.
The man that loved her left her alone, hurt and weak on the mountain Tang- Shao pass. The vision of her thrown on the frozen ground was engraved in his mind. Thin naked arms against the snow. she must have been so cold. Other girls of her breeding were protected from the slightest breeze. He left her alone in the snow. Other men protect their loves with own life. He had betrayed his for what? He felt that he had lost the ground under his feet. Every moral doctrine, every notion of honour he had before was shaken inside him.
Honour was no longer just a rigid set of established rules, but a puzzling path where decisions on what's right and what's wrong had to be made on every turn, without any guidance from a clear-cut moral code. Nothing was certain any more, except for the inner integrity of an honest man. The example was right there: a girl that had broken every rule of decency in existence in order to do the right thing. And he, who was brought up as an epitome of established traditions, respected her all the more for that.
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The capital was just two hours ride from the Tang-Shao pass, but it took them almost until morning to get there. Shang was exhausted to the point when he dropped on the bed in the inn, and lost himself for several hours of fitful sleep. The sun was well up when he was summoned to the victory party. That was something that he did not consider before: he was supposed to accept all the credit for the victory that Mulan had brought to China, when the real hero was thought unworthy of mentioning among warriors.
The news about the victory had spread through entire capital and surrounding country with unbelievable speed. Everyone rejoiced that all the Hun army was destroyed, and the small Chinese regiment that brought the victory was only one soldier short. Only one small soldier.
They were given a magnificent feast. The pleasure girls danced for the heroes of China, but Shang's mood was too dreadful to pay any attention to their graceful movements. The dancers attempted to flirt with him; after all, he was a "hero"! getting him in their bed would be quite an achievement for them. But all he could see was the grey bandage around a slim torso, unravelling in his hands.
He was doing it again. Instead of thinking of her as a hero, an unachievable ideal that no earthly passions could ever touch, he was thinking of a beautiful girl to desire, an adorable child to protect and hide from the rest of the world. What did he say to her? "I will make a man out of you, boy" Duh. On the high-sight it was obviously an impossible
task from the start. On the other hand, he would not mind a chance to make a woman out of that girl. He had lost his chance, if he ever had it. The vision of the water sprite was haunting his sleep and dominated his thoughts during the day. Only she. No one else in the entire world was so in sync with nature, had such understanding over it to engage as an ally the force as terrifying as avalanche.
The parade was planned later that evening. The capital had a reason to celebrate, but Shang had none. Beat of the drums, colorful kites only served to wound his sore conscience more. It was he who was the real impostor, taking credit for what was done by someone else. The gang was as depressed as he. They were riding with their heads down, eyes trained on the ground. The undeserved praise. it was worse than undeserved punishment. The retainers were crying out:
"Make way for the heroes of China!" If the real hero were a man, he would be pronounced a legend and receive the highest honors. But as a girl, she was abandoned to die in the snowy mountains. She was a hero that China did not deserve.
There was a movement in the crowd, a small rider on the large black horse was making his way toward Shang. Shang's eyes widened in shock when he recognized the face that was haunting him day and night. Mulan was back!
She had her hair down, as a girl should, and he could not understand how he ever thought her to be a boy. She moved so boldly, as if she had never been hurt. Maybe water sprites heal faster than humans? But why was she there? She was telling something about Huns surviving the avalanche
"Huns are here, I saw them!"
Why was she still trying to help them? Did not they hurt her enough already? She would only be hurt again. She did not belong among this arrogant crowd. She should run away from these stupid, cruel people who will never deserve her.
"You do not belong here, Mulan, go home" May be if he send her home she would be safe. She would never forgive him anyway; there was nothing to lose. At least she would be safe.
"Why can't you believe me?" there was such hurt in her eyes.
"Why should I?" he asked with a challenge 'You tricked me, you are the water sprite, the mistress of mountain avalanches, you are beyond our understanding. You can turn defeat into victory, weakness into strength, yourself into a boy-soldier, me into a lovesick fool. I am helpless against you. But I will keep you safe, if this would be the last thing I'd do.' Shang was confused and ashamed, he did not know why she talked to him at all. He was still hurt that she lied to him. He could understand her, though - the penalty was death. For the first time in his life he was ashamed of being a man.
"Or why else would I be here?"
that's easy, beloved. You are here because I am here. You are my heart, you are my conscience. You were never away, you'll always be in my heart. But, for the sake of my sanity, please, just go away. I've heard your warning, run and be safe.
"You said you trusted Ping. How Mulan is different?"
'Oh, she's different, all right,' thought Shang. 'To be Mulan, one had to be ten times more courageous than Ping. Mulan was a hero, a beautiful brave girl, girl I love. I wouldn't let you get hurt again. Go away; go to wherever in the Celestial lands your real home is. It should be a wonderful, enchanted place, so that your family could raise a miracle like you there. This earth does not deserve you. I don't deserve even to look at you. For the sake of my love, I will offend you yet one more time. Just go away, and be safe from us all. We will deal with the Huns, I promise. Your courage won't be in vain, my love. Forgive me, my little brave water sprite. '
She seemed to despair in convincing him, and turned to the gang:
"Keep your eyes open. I know they are here"
He heard her trying to convince other people, but no one would listen. The testimony of a woman never deserved any attention. Women were invisible. He could only plead silently: 'Go home, Mulan, leave these arrogant fools to their fate. '
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The procession approached the stairs of the Imperial Palace. There was no way out of it Shang had to carry out this loathsome duty of the hero- figure.
He ascended the stairs to greet the Emperor. The brightly-colored ceremonial dragon followed him up the stairs, swaying right behind his back. Shang was somewhat uncomfortable with it, it was too close behind. Were those performers crazy? What were they doing on the steps of the palace?
The stately old Emperor received him on the wide ceremonial landing. Shang knelt to offer the Emperor the sword of Shan-Yu.
The Emperor spoke, and his voice had flown freely over the heads of the thousands of people gathered around the Palace.
"Thanks to our brave warriors.," 'There was only one worrier, your Majesty, and she was tossed away, discarded.' "the Middle kingdom will sleep peacefully tonight"
But Shang would never sleep peacefully again.
Then the Emperor addressed Shang, who was still kneeling with the enemy sword in his hands:
"I know what it means to you, Li Shang. Your father would be very proud."
'I wish it was true, Your Majesty I wish I deserved your praise.' Shang thought, bowing deeper, holding out the sword to the Emperor.
He heard a woman scream in the crowd, and in the next second the sharp wing brushed against his head, and the hawk of Shan-Yu had torn the sword from his unsuspecting hands. The powerful bird soared to the roof of the palace, and he saw one of the grotesque figures there move suddenly, extend his hand and catch the sword in mid-air. The gargoyle straightened and transformed into the fearsome figure of Shan-Yu himself.
Mulan was right, after all. The most dangerous of Huns had survived the avalanche somehow.
The paper dragon behind Shang suddenly sprang to life. Half a dozen Huns jumped from the cover of multi-colored silk, knocked Shang down, grabbed the Emperor and disappeared behind the heavy doors of the palace before anyone could react.
"No!"
Shang could not believe it! The Emperor was kidnapped from under his very nose! But he was not about to give up without a fight.
The gang was already beside him, ready for action. Chien-Po pulled a heavy stone figure from somewhere, and they joined forces in attempt to break the doors with it. The rush of activity simulated some meaningful progress, but Shang knew that by the time they would reach the Emperor it would be too late.
Suddenly, there was a boy-like whistle from behind. Mulan, no, Ping was back.
"Hey, guys, I've got an idea"
Shang had to smile: 'We are desperate, my little water sprite. If you have an idea, it's the best chance we could ever hope for.'
The gang seemed to share his opinion. In fact, they dropped the statue at once, and followed Mulan somewhere around the corner of the Palace. While Shang was hesitating, full of shame and fear that she'd never be able to forgive him, the faithful trio was putting themselves at her disposal blindly, sure that she was smart enough to get the job done. Her quick wit was working to save China once more, the mischief bright in her eyes.
Once again, Ping turned her weakness into strength. No one paid attention to women? All right! We could sneak in as women and be invisible. She produced silk court dresses from nowhere, and the gang dressed up, ridiculous in the make-up and ladies scarves. Only the slim figure orchestrating the show seemed perfectly in it's rightful place.
Mulan was in the full swing of action. She seemed to accept his hesitation as a refusal to help, and he could not blame her for that. He was a jerk, and he knew it too.
Still he wanted to be by her side, if only she'd accept him. He touched her shoulder, much more hesitantly than he ever touched Ping. She swung around, to face his timid wordless plea. And she just smiled smile in response, with instant acceptation. Ping's grin was strangely in place on the face of the lovely girl Mulan. Gods, she was so forgiving. There was no other like her. He was drawn to her by the power beyond his will. Of course, he would go with her - anywhere, to fight Huns, to the end of Earth, to hell. But he did not dress up. He was glad no one asked him the reason: he did not want to admit even to himself that he'd rather die than look stupid in the eyes of this girl.
Somehow the command of the whole operation was in the hands of the girl, not the captain. She explained her strategy, positioned the attacking force, defence, and the back-up. In all honesty, Shang could not add anything to her tactical plan, even if he tried to. It looked like the strategic talents of captain Fa Zhou ran in the family.
But why is she so eager to help? Other soldiers have no choice, really, and besides, the success of the operation would bring them fame and glory. Mulan, if successful, would only attract attention of the officials, and will be subjected to disgrace and very possibly death again. Yet she was here, guided only by the love of her country. Her pure selfless heart gave them the strength, and her bright mind the means to save the emperor, and China. He stepped aside, resigning command, just watching her give precise and colourful instructions to the most preposterous bunch of concubines he'd ever seen.
"Any questions?"
"Does this dress make me look fat?"
Smack. Yao could always find a way to crack a silly joke at the most inopportune moment.
Shang's own task was pretty straightforward: wait till the boys distracted the guards, sneak in the room, punch out Shan Yu, get the emperor. Piece of cake. He had to admit, he was the best-qualified man for the job. Except that Shan Yu was known as a great warrior, and he was not sure he could take him one-on-one. Anyway, he'd do his best.
Carefully, they peaked in the hallway that led to the main balcony of the Palace. Huns had to be there by all indications. Sure enough, a guard was posted of several brawny Mongols, watching the entrance to the room. The gang proceeded according to Mulan's instructions. They sashayed towards the muscle-men, flirting like cheap street hookers.
"Concubines" commented one of them "Ugly concubines."
Shang could not deny that Mongols possessed a keen sense of observation.
Still, the guards made some flirtatious passes toward the cream of the Chinese army. Hmm. Abstinence must have hit them even harder than it had Shang. Imagine, the glorious moustache that Yao sported could attract any man, no matter how desperate he was.
If it would continue much longer, one of them was bound to blow the whole thing and explode in very masculine laughter. But the farce took another turn for the worse: the fruit the gang had collected to compensate for the missing parts of female anatomy rolled out of the Ling's cleavage.
The gig was up. But the guards were too stunned by the unusual phenomena to offer much resistance. The weird trio beat them to a pulp with the remnants of the fruit salad they extracted from the various parts of their clothing.
Shang was forever puzzled what the banana was meant to represent in Yao's understanding of feminine endowments, even though Shang considered himself quite an expert on women. At least before he met a certain water sprite. Now he had to admit defeat: if he'd ever be lucky enough to see her lovely body again, he would not be surprised to find a pair of wings on her back.
He was awakened from his contemplation by cry from Mulan:
"Shang, go!"
it was time for him to act. He pushed passed the fallen guards in a blink of an eye, and broke into the room where the Emperor was being held. There was Shan yu, pacing like a tiger around the Emperor.
"I am tired of your arrogance, old man. Bow to me"
these were the first words that Shang heard.
"No matter how the wind howls, the mountain can not bow to it" the Emperor answeres with all the calm and self-possession of a teacher explaining a lesson to an unpromising pupil.
"Then you will kneel in pieces"
Shan-Yu lifted his sword to deliver the deadly blow. But Shang was already there. He pushed the Emperor aside, and deflected the strike with his own sword.
The fury and strength of the barbarous Hun were terrifying. It took all the skill Shang had only to block the hurricane of his blows. But the gang came to his aid just at the right moment. Chien-Po picked up the Emperor, and followed Mulan's orders to slide down the rope from the balcony.
The Emperor was safe. The gang followed Chien-Po down the square, and was desperately calling Mulan and Shang to escape too. But the danger still existed: they had to keep the Huns in the palace at least until the cavalry would arrive.
Shan-Yu understood that his only chance for victory slipped away with the Emperor. He made a grab to follow him down the rope. But Mulan had found a way, yet again. She did not run, she cut the rope with Shan-Yu's own sword, effectively trapping them all on the balcony and preventing Shan-Yu from following her friends and the Emperor.
The heavy breathing of Shan-Yu turned into a scream when he realized that he was defeated. He turned to the only two humans that denied him his wish. Shang stepped in front of Mulan, to protect her with his life, if needed. Shan-Yu was raging for revenge.
Shang was an exceptional warrior, but the Hun was more than his equal. Shan- Yu was bigger and stronger than Shang, and was more experienced in combat. In a second Shang was pinned under the huge Mongol with the sword to his throat.
"You. You have taken away my victory" Shang knew he was about to be killed. But the small shoe hit Shan-Yu in the head and the defiant voice cried out:
"No. I have."
She pulled her hair back, and the proud face of the small soldier Ping looked straight into the eyes of the ferocious Shan-Yu.
"The soldier from the mountains." the voice of the Hun was full of awe and wonder. He lost all his interest in the fallen captain of the Chinese army, pausing only long enough to knock him out with a powerful headbutt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Shang came to, he was alone in the room. Apparently, Shan-Yu did not consider him as much of the threat. Smart Hun - the real danger was not the big strong man, but the little lady. The enemy who was understood was always partly safe, it was the girl who represented the unknown variable, which could tip the scale.
There was no point in lying down on the job. The sounds of fighting were coming from outside. Was she still alive? That would make her a better fighter than her mentor. He himself had not lasted so long against Shan-Yu. Yet Mulan did not even have a sword. He had to do something.
Shang shook the last remnants of dizziness from of his head and ran out of the palace. The eyes of the crowd outside were fixed on the roof, and as Shang turned to look, he saw an outline of two figures there, the bulky shape of the Hun leader and the swift, tiny figure of a girl. She was still fighting, though she was unarmed and facing a greatly superior opponent. The girl's combat skills were to his credit, but it still wasn't wise. 'What are you doing, Ping!' thought Shang desperately 'You might be a water sprite, but this is too much even for you. Run, my love, there will be another chance to fight this monster. We could take him together, do not let him kill you so senselessly. '
She whipped out a fan, and used it to intercept and rip the sword away from her enemy. She was actually threatening Shan-Yu with his own sword! But instead of striking at him, she pinned the end of his garment to the roof.
This time Shang did not interpret her move as a mistake. There was always a method to her madness. Whatever she did, it was no accident, she must have had a plan. What was it? Did she summon an earthquake or thunderbolt from the heavens? He would not be a the slightest bit surprised.
And she did not disappoint her commanding officer. He never had time to see what actually happened. Suddenly, Shan-Yu whipped around with a look of horror on his face, and the next moment he was flying - literally - into the fireworks tower.
The sound of an explosion shook the ground under Shang's feet, and the fire lashed out toward the Palace roof. But the nimble, small figure was no longer there. She was flying herself, sliding down another cable supporting the festive lights. The lanterns were popping away in her wake, showering down in a glorious salute to the little hero.
Where did she get her ideas? And just how was she able to pull that last trick? There was no explanation. The forces that this girl commanded were beyond any sane mind. There was no sense in pondering it.
Right now, he had to get to her. Down the stairs he ran to catch her, but of course he was too late. Her small body hit him in the back, and there she was, on the floor by his side, shy smile ever in place. There was a loud clank behind him as the smoking sword of Shan-Yu landed a mere foot away. Shang did not even turn his head. All he wanted to see in this world was right in front of him, tired, disheveled, but safe and sound.
He could have stayed there forever, but in the next moment that annoying Chi Fu came fuming from the Palace right for them.
"It was a deliberate attempt on my life! Where is she?" whined the councilor. How dares that worm! "Now she has done it!"
The gang was already moving to shield their little comrade, but Chi Fu motioned them away.
"Stand aside, this creature is not worth protecting"
Shang loomed over the skinny bureaucrat menacingly, thinking: 'Yeah, right. First, you'd have to go through me, you bastard.'
"She is a hero!" he snapped
"She is a woman. She will never worth anything!"
'The worm! She just saved us all'. That was more than Shang could stand. He grabbed Chi Fu by the lapels of his shirt
"You pompous." but there was quiet and confident voice from behind.
"That is enough."
The emperor approached the group. There was no way Shang would let anyone judge Mulan harshly again:
"Your Majesty, I can explain."
But the Emperor silenced him with a single movement of his hand. He would obey for now. Shang moved aside, revealing Mulan for the eyes of the Emperor. She bowed ceremoniously, as if he were introducing herself to the royal presence at a formal gathering.
"I've heard a great deal about you, Fa Mulan. You stole your father's armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer." The dread grew in him with every word the Emperor spoke. "Dishonoured the Chinese army, destroyed my palace." they all were bending under the weight of emperor's accusations. He saw that Mulan, too, was cringing under the lashing. "And you have saved us all."
Shang wondered for a moment if the Emperor ever considered a career in performing arts, he was certainly good with dramatic effect. Then, again, a good politician was always a bit of an actor.
The emperor smiled at the beaming Mulan and unexpectedly bent his back in a deep bow. The honour that had Shan-Yu demanded in vain was given freely to a young girl-warrior. That was the greatest honour in China.
Chi Fu was first to recognize it. He dropped his pen and fell prostrate on the floor at the feet of the girl he claimed would never amount to anything. After him, everyone present knelt down before the saviour of China. Finally, the praise was given where it was due. At last Shang was able to express his awe and respect for the woman who deserved to be revered by all, and freely pay his homage to the little hero. He bent his large frame to the very ground itself, in imitation of the girl who had knelt proudly under his sword. So close to the small feet he worshiped, maybe for the last time in his life. 'This is what you deserved, my beloved, this great moment of honour before all the empire' was all he could think.
The emperor was speaking again:
"Chi Fu,"
"Your excellency?" the worm prepared his notepad and brush
"See to it that this woman is made a member of my council."
the faces of the weird trio were easy to read: 'Chew on that, you bottom feeder. '
"But there are no council positions open, your Majesty."
"Very well, you can have his position."
What? Chi Fu actually fainted, unable to appreciate the humour of the situation
"With all due respect, your Excellency," Fa Mulan lived up to the honour of her noble family, her voice was cultured and confident "I think I've been away from home long enough."
Good girl. Shang was pleased that she rejected the position in the Council. It was not her place among stupid counsellors like Chi Fu. He wondered though, if the Emperor was serious in the offer. Oh, she could do the job, no doubt about it. But the rest of the council would be rendered useless in comparison. The emperor smiled again:
"Then, take this, so that your family know what you have done for me." He took of his own crest of the Emperors and put it around the slim neck of the girl. "And this, so the world will know what you have done for China."
and he handed the famous sword of Shan-Yu to Mulan. She beamed like a child and threw her arms around the emperor's neck in sheer joy, as if he were her own grandfather. The old emperor melted into the kindest of smiles.
Shang realized what a lonely place the throne must be, and how isolated the untouchable emperor was. The sincere hug from a pure-hearted girl was more precious than the crown. Still, the move was great presumption. Even Yao could see the breach of Court etiquette.
"Can she do this?" Shang shrugged his shoulders, amazed. Apparently, this girl could do anything she wanted.
She paid her farewell to the emperor and turned to the gang. There was a joyous sloppy group-hug, and Chien-Po lifted them all off the ground.
Shang tensed in jealousy, but then happily realized that his turn was next. If she would hug him, he would be able to hug her back, press her to his chest. Surely, the grey bandage was still there, and she was still hurt. He would be as gentle as he could. But he would feel her body next to his for a few seconds, maybe smell her hair, like that time in the mountains... If only he knew then!
'Come on, girl, just one little hug for your commanding officer?' Of course, the blasted armor would get in the way, but who was he to be choosy? She was so small, his one arm could circle around her waist and return back to reach his own chest. She came, he opened his arms to her, but she did not make a move to hug him. Why? The gang, but not him? It could be that she was shy of the higher ranking, hell, she had no problem hugging the Emperor!
"You..." come on, hug me too! But all he got from her was an expectant smile
"You fight good..." he finally managed. Was he so repulsive for her?
"Oh..." there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. Well, he was disappointed too.
"Thank you."
'Real suave, Shang. What girl would be able to resist THIS approach'. But it was too late. She had mounted her steed, and was riding off the stairs.
"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." said the emperor, who came to stand by his side, watching the retreating girl go.
"Sir?..."
what did he mean?
The Emperor looked at him in annoyance, and decided to make it beyond plain for the young fool:
"You do not meet a girl like that every dynasty!" he gave Shang another stern look.
'Tell me about it, Your Majesty. You do not know the half of it.' Shang was sure a girl like this had never been born before, and will never come along again. And he would be damned if he let her slip through his fingers just like that! If the old and wise emperor believed that he had a chance with her, he would find that chance and would find a way to make it work. If Fa Zhou would request an adoption marriage, he would go for that, he would reject his own name. The Li family was one of the proudest families in the country, but Mulan made the Fa family outshine every noble clan that ever served the Emperor. If there ever was a girl worth fighting for, it was Mulan, and no price was too high.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was riding through the country, springtime in the air, the warm spring breeze smelling as sweet as Mulan's hair. Her village was just a half-day away from the capital on horseback, a pleasant ride. He had learned the location of her house from Chi Fu, and Yao had brought him her helmet which was found somewhere around the palace. Now he had both reason and excuse to seek Mulan out. His mood was much better. He knew why she did not hug him. It was for the very same reason that he could not bring himself to hug her. It still might not be too late. He was very eligible; her parents should have no problems with a son-in-law from the Li family. No, it was not too late yet.
