Chapter 2: The Odd Soldier
Mulan was having difficulty getting comfortable. As tired as she was from the hard day of training, she could not get to sleep. She was in great pain, in body, mind and soul. Every muscle in her body was sore, including several that she was never aware that she had. She was also frustrated, discouraged and disappointed in herself. It had been two weeks already but she was doing very badly in the training and just could not do anything right.
Not that anyone else in the camp was doing much better. They were all pretty pathetic and they drove Captain Li to the edge of his sanity with their failures and their idiotic brawls that turned into camp-wide mayhem. She didn't really know anything about Captain Li, other than he was extremely stern and serious, rather somber actually, and he had just been promoted to captain by his father, the general, at the same time as they were all recruited. Training them was his very first assignment; and what a disappointing first assignment they were for the poor guy. But she knew she was the absolute worst and she knew she drove Captain Li to fits.
He really did bully her a little too much though, and it wasn't always her fault. Mushu got her into a lot of trouble. He was the one who stuck the target on her arrow in archery training because he wanted to help her; but it just looked to the captain as if she was cheating. It was Mushu who had caused the fight between her and Yao that first day at camp, which erupted into a full-scale, all-camp brawl and caused everyone in the camp to hate her. In fact, most of the trouble she got into was caused either by Mushu or by Yao and his buddy Ling playing mean tricks on her, like knocking over the support for her cannon in practice so that she blew up Chi Fu's tent. The pranks that Yao and Ling played were immature and annoying and got her into trouble, but at least they weren't cruel. The other men bullied her and tormented her. They would trip her when she walked by them. They were always trying to egg her on so they could fight with her. She wasn't as strong as them, so she wouldn't dare get involved in fighting physically with them. The only thing she could do was bear their behavior silently, try to deflect their provocation and do everything in her power not to cry in front of them.
She knew that she didn't belong in the army, among all of these rough men. She was especially aware of how out of place she was when they would brag about what they did with women, or when they cursed profusely. She was very lonely in the camp and she missed her family terribly.
She thought about how heartbroken and disappointed they probably were that she'd gone and done this, and it wrenched at her heart. Chances were she would never make it back home. Everyday she ran the risk of being discovered and executed for treason. If she wasn't discovered and by some miracle made it to the battlefield she could very well be killed there. And if she did somehow survive and make it home, it was possible that her family wouldn't even accept her back after this; maybe they were even more disgraced by her now. But she had no doubt, not even for a moment, that she had done the right thing. It had been the only way, in a no-win situation where either choice was bad. At least she could move easily and had a chance of surviving, of running for safety if necessary. If her father had come, it would have been a disaster. He was an experienced, seasoned soldier and would have been sent right off to the battle, where he would have been killed for sure. Or, due to his wound and inability to walk well, he would have been sent home immediately, dishonored and embarrassed. This was the least she could do; maybe it would make up for the fact that she had been a disappointment as a daughter. Even if she had to be the one to die.
She had left home under such bad circumstances. She'd had a terrible fight with her father at dinner that last night at home. Earlier that same day she'd had a disastrous session with the matchmaker, who told her that she would never bring her family honor. The fiasco wasn't entirely her fault. It was that damned cricket that Grandma had given her for luck. The so-called 'lucky' cricket had escaped from the cage, jumping all over the matchmaker, swimming in the tea, jumping down her dress. That was what caused all the problems there and led to the matchmaker catching on fire. She had fallen over onto the fire because she wouldn't let Mulan take the cup of tea back to remove the cricket.
That same day after she returned home the Imperial soldiers came to deliver the conscription notices and she tried to stop them from summoning her father, due to his wound from his previous service to the Emperor. That skinny toad Chi Fu put her down and then her father told her she dishonored him. And then at dinner afterward – the argument with her father, his harsh words to her. It had been a terrible last day with her family and the thought of that only served to deepen her sadness. And then she'd gone and snuck off in the middle of the night, taking her father's conscription notice and leaving her comb with the magnolia flower on the side table in its place. What had he thought when he found out? Probably that she really had gone nuts that night. She knew she had.
Dishonor. That seemed to be the theme of her life. Even the captain had muttered it the day Mushu stuck the target on her arrow. He'd said it under his breath, but she'd heard it. She hardly knew him and she shouldn't have cared what he thought of her – or Ping – but the thought that he had a low opinion of her bothered her. All her life she had tried to please people. Particularly men; and he was a man in authority. As much as she didn't want it to matter to her, it did. She felt devastated when Captain Li's angry and disdainful looks were directed toward her, which was pretty much all the time.
At least her horse Khan was there. Her father had given him to her when he was a pony and she was just eight years old. He was her best friend. Every night, no matter how tired she was after the training, she made sure she spent time with Khan, caring for him and talking to him. He couldn't answer her when she lamented to him but he seemed to understand and always nuzzled her to let her know he was there and her friend. Despite the troubles he caused, it was good to have Mushu there as a friend and companion also. The little dragon hardly seemed like an all-powerful guardian; but he gave her comfort in a place where she had no human being who was a friend, no one to even talk to. Even with Khan and Mushu's presence there, she still cried herself to sleep most nights – when she was able to sleep. She cried silently, stifling every sob that threatened to become audible. She prayed to the ancestors every night, thanking them for sending Mushu but asking them to still help her through this ordeal and to keep her family safe and well.
Some nights, like tonight, when she couldn't sleep at all in the middle of the night she walked down to the lake, which was in the forest up on the hill, at the far end of the training field where they had cannon practice. It was far enough away from the camp that she could let the tears fall freely if they came and not worry if a sob escaped. She also used those times to bathe quickly without being seen.
She finally decided that it was no use even trying to sleep tonight and stood up, stepping out of her tent. She left Mushu sleeping there and walked down to the lake. It was the middle of the night. She decided to go for a swim tonight. No one would be there to see her now and maybe the water would ease the soreness of her muscles.
She walked around the diameter of the lake, to the side that was farthest from camp, just in case someone did happen to come down there. She slipped off her clothes and hung them on a tree branch, then stepped into the lake, wading out toward the middle of the lake and immersing her body in the cool water. It made her feel refreshed and lifted her spirits a little.
There was no turning back. She had made her choice and now she was locked into whatever path was before her resulting from that choice. She had to survive somehow, she had to persevere and succeed. She stayed in the lake for a very long time, not wanting to get out. Her muscles were soothed a little and somehow the feel of the cool water touching her skin took away the sting of the sadness and desperate loneliness she felt. She finally turned and reluctantly headed back toward the shore because her fingers were starting to prune. She waded back toward shallower water, then turned around for a moment to take one last calming look at the middle of the lake and the moonlight reflecting on the water. Then she got out of the lake and dressed, returning back to camp and to her tent.