The sun shined through a small crack in the ceiling of the cave, waking General Li Shang. He immediately tried to rub his eyes but was once again reminded of his captivity. His hands were bound tightly behind his back to a pole, preventing him from escape. His anger towards Sui Fu still blazed, but he did not try to break the bonds like he had the first day. That had left him with sore, bleeding wrists and a slap to the face from his captor.
Shang had been a prisoner in the rock formation for many days now, although he knew not how many. He only knew when a day passed whenever any light shone through, and he did not know how long he had been unconscious when he originally came to his predicament. His soldiers must have known of his absence by now. But there was something disturbing him. He had heard no passerbys or any indication of where he was. There were no crashing waves of the ocean, nor crickets of the forrest. No signs of life other than the sound of his breathing, which was amplified by the walls of wherever he was.
Shang sharply turned his head at the sound of someone entering from what he assumed was an entrance. He hadn't been able to find any doors or holes that he could escape through if he managed to escape his bonds. Shang already knew who it was, even if he had not heard the light, quick footsteps of Sui Fu.
Her honeyed voice floated over him, portraying a warmth which she did not possess. "Good morning, Small One. It's nice to see you're awake for once." Sui Fu, the Tigress, circled her prisoner. Shang watched her warily, and searched for the smallest aide to help him escape. All he found was the dark, hungry look in her eyes. He shuddered.
"I would rather be in the world beyond this one. That way, I wouldn't have to see your face," Shang spat defiantly. The remark earned him a stinging scratch across his cheek. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but he had been without food for several days, and enduring verbal and physical abuse from Sui Fu.
"If you wish to join your father in the realm of the dead it can be arranged!" Sui Fu's dark eyes glittered with rage as she held Shang's jaw in her small hand, pulling him up roughly. The threat to his life did not bother him now, for he knew that he had not been kept alive for so long for no purpose. His theory was confirmed when she threw his face away, turning away to compose herself.
"What reason could you want to hold me here?" Shang asked, already knowing the answer. Sui Fu and her family hungered for power, and Shang was their key to it.
"Because," she hissed. She slowly turned back to him, her eyes glittering with an unnatural bloodlust.
Shang was taken aback at the coldness in her eyes, no matter that he had seen it before all too often in the past few days. He drew a breath in and prepared for a blow to knock him out, the way she usually concluded these "sessions".
"Because," she repeated, "you are MINE!"
And with a swift crack, he returned to forced slumber.
*******
********Three lunar months later********
Who walks in the moonlit garden
To ask the cricket if he is lonely
when the night cold
and the sky full of stars
hangs above
"You're mourning for him again."
Mulan turned towards the gentle voice, breaking her distant and soft stare into the deep sky. She focused on the lines in her fingers, blinking her tears away. Wishing. No one could ever see her cry, never again.
"No I'm not, Chien Po," she replied, taking an unsteady breath. She felt his comforting hand on her shoulder.
"That is what your voice says, but not your eyes," the peaceful man said sadly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, only to have her shy from it. It was so painful to see one so strong so vunerable, he thought.
"My eyes say nothing!" She spat, turning away once again. "And who can mourn again if one never stopped mourning!"
At this, the tears she valiantly hid spilled over. She wasn't surprised when Chien Po was joined by Yao and Ling. The three looked on sadly, all knowing that her grief was unsoftened by three moon cycles. Her reactions varied from violent to catatonia, and as her closest friends, they had always tried to comfort her, as they did now. They gathered her into their arms, taking her to her tent and leaving her to sleep away her tears.
The passing of three months has brought many things. The Emperor himself had attended Shang's death ceremony, which was held in a quiet village near where his father had died. Mulan had arranged everything in a daze, with help from her friends. His ceremony was a small event, more privately spiritual than extravagant, the way he would have wanted it.
Her soldiers noticed her smiles, which were once plentiful, were now rare and often forced. Her outward demeanor became quite cold and defensive, and not only from the increasing tensions between the Japanese and Chinese. It was not the only thing that had left dark circles under her eyes and a stiff quality to her stance.
Mulan had become the ultimate soldier, working herself into exhaustion everyday, practicing late into moonlit hours and waking before dawn. If she kept moving, she wouldn't feel the creeping cold hand clutching her in pain, tearing her sanity into nothing. But at nights, when she couldn't move and couldn't sleep, she would think of him.
Tonight would be one of the better nights.
She would cry herself to much needed sleep, dreamless and empty of pain. On a worser night, she would have nightmares, of battlefields and Shang's body amongst the dead. She would drift in and out of consciousness, sometimes crying aloud and whimpering softly until one of her friends would come in to wake her.
But this was a better night. In the recesses of her mind, she pondered what might have been and what was. Even now, she denied herself the admission of loving him, because if he was her one and only love, he was gone and she would be lost forever.
With that thought, her eyes mercifully closed and she was asleep.
A better night for the grieving General Fa indeed.
**********
"Why is he still alive?" The large figure asked, his deep baritone resonating throughout the passageway. His yellow eyes flitted impatiently, as if ready to strike out at the demons of his mind.
"He will be... useful," a feminine voice replied. There was a hint of a sadistic smile in that voice, one which enjoyed causing pain. The shadow shifted out of his reach, flitting in and out of substance.
"Not if you keep playing with him as you do," the gruff voice countered. "He will not be fit to be used as ransom if he is corrupted and half-dead." A gleam of twisted metal.
"On the contrary, she will be even easier to catch if he is weak." A whisper of movement, and she was gone, receding into the walls like her ancestors had taught her. A shadow.
"We'll see. We'll see."
*******
Shang had been a prisoner in the rock formation for many days now, although he knew not how many. He only knew when a day passed whenever any light shone through, and he did not know how long he had been unconscious when he originally came to his predicament. His soldiers must have known of his absence by now. But there was something disturbing him. He had heard no passerbys or any indication of where he was. There were no crashing waves of the ocean, nor crickets of the forrest. No signs of life other than the sound of his breathing, which was amplified by the walls of wherever he was.
Shang sharply turned his head at the sound of someone entering from what he assumed was an entrance. He hadn't been able to find any doors or holes that he could escape through if he managed to escape his bonds. Shang already knew who it was, even if he had not heard the light, quick footsteps of Sui Fu.
Her honeyed voice floated over him, portraying a warmth which she did not possess. "Good morning, Small One. It's nice to see you're awake for once." Sui Fu, the Tigress, circled her prisoner. Shang watched her warily, and searched for the smallest aide to help him escape. All he found was the dark, hungry look in her eyes. He shuddered.
"I would rather be in the world beyond this one. That way, I wouldn't have to see your face," Shang spat defiantly. The remark earned him a stinging scratch across his cheek. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but he had been without food for several days, and enduring verbal and physical abuse from Sui Fu.
"If you wish to join your father in the realm of the dead it can be arranged!" Sui Fu's dark eyes glittered with rage as she held Shang's jaw in her small hand, pulling him up roughly. The threat to his life did not bother him now, for he knew that he had not been kept alive for so long for no purpose. His theory was confirmed when she threw his face away, turning away to compose herself.
"What reason could you want to hold me here?" Shang asked, already knowing the answer. Sui Fu and her family hungered for power, and Shang was their key to it.
"Because," she hissed. She slowly turned back to him, her eyes glittering with an unnatural bloodlust.
Shang was taken aback at the coldness in her eyes, no matter that he had seen it before all too often in the past few days. He drew a breath in and prepared for a blow to knock him out, the way she usually concluded these "sessions".
"Because," she repeated, "you are MINE!"
And with a swift crack, he returned to forced slumber.
*******
********Three lunar months later********
Who walks in the moonlit garden
To ask the cricket if he is lonely
when the night cold
and the sky full of stars
hangs above
"You're mourning for him again."
Mulan turned towards the gentle voice, breaking her distant and soft stare into the deep sky. She focused on the lines in her fingers, blinking her tears away. Wishing. No one could ever see her cry, never again.
"No I'm not, Chien Po," she replied, taking an unsteady breath. She felt his comforting hand on her shoulder.
"That is what your voice says, but not your eyes," the peaceful man said sadly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, only to have her shy from it. It was so painful to see one so strong so vunerable, he thought.
"My eyes say nothing!" She spat, turning away once again. "And who can mourn again if one never stopped mourning!"
At this, the tears she valiantly hid spilled over. She wasn't surprised when Chien Po was joined by Yao and Ling. The three looked on sadly, all knowing that her grief was unsoftened by three moon cycles. Her reactions varied from violent to catatonia, and as her closest friends, they had always tried to comfort her, as they did now. They gathered her into their arms, taking her to her tent and leaving her to sleep away her tears.
The passing of three months has brought many things. The Emperor himself had attended Shang's death ceremony, which was held in a quiet village near where his father had died. Mulan had arranged everything in a daze, with help from her friends. His ceremony was a small event, more privately spiritual than extravagant, the way he would have wanted it.
Her soldiers noticed her smiles, which were once plentiful, were now rare and often forced. Her outward demeanor became quite cold and defensive, and not only from the increasing tensions between the Japanese and Chinese. It was not the only thing that had left dark circles under her eyes and a stiff quality to her stance.
Mulan had become the ultimate soldier, working herself into exhaustion everyday, practicing late into moonlit hours and waking before dawn. If she kept moving, she wouldn't feel the creeping cold hand clutching her in pain, tearing her sanity into nothing. But at nights, when she couldn't move and couldn't sleep, she would think of him.
Tonight would be one of the better nights.
She would cry herself to much needed sleep, dreamless and empty of pain. On a worser night, she would have nightmares, of battlefields and Shang's body amongst the dead. She would drift in and out of consciousness, sometimes crying aloud and whimpering softly until one of her friends would come in to wake her.
But this was a better night. In the recesses of her mind, she pondered what might have been and what was. Even now, she denied herself the admission of loving him, because if he was her one and only love, he was gone and she would be lost forever.
With that thought, her eyes mercifully closed and she was asleep.
A better night for the grieving General Fa indeed.
**********
"Why is he still alive?" The large figure asked, his deep baritone resonating throughout the passageway. His yellow eyes flitted impatiently, as if ready to strike out at the demons of his mind.
"He will be... useful," a feminine voice replied. There was a hint of a sadistic smile in that voice, one which enjoyed causing pain. The shadow shifted out of his reach, flitting in and out of substance.
"Not if you keep playing with him as you do," the gruff voice countered. "He will not be fit to be used as ransom if he is corrupted and half-dead." A gleam of twisted metal.
"On the contrary, she will be even easier to catch if he is weak." A whisper of movement, and she was gone, receding into the walls like her ancestors had taught her. A shadow.
"We'll see. We'll see."
*******