Standard Disclaimer: Still don't own it

Life After

The cool night breeze did wonders to soothe Mulan's crimson cheeks, and she thanked her ancestors profusely for small blessings. It would be too difficult to explain why she left Shang's company with her face burning like a torch. Knowing her father, he'd stare solemnly, say some embarrassing proverb, and then laugh as she grew more flustered. Mulan rolled her eyes as she moved across the grounds. Wise and dignified war veteran indeed. He was a silly man as far as she was concerned.

With the moon only half present it was difficult to see more than shadows. Fortunately, Mulan had memorized her home long ago and, even after having been gone for weeks, automatically headed toward her and her father's favorite seat beneath the still blossoming tree. As she approached, his form became more defined. He rose slowly, and her gaze softened when he opened his arms wide to her. Seeing her father standing there, welcoming her into his strong embrace, filled Mulan with a sense of longing. Desperation settled heavily into her chest. Clasping the hem of her hanfu, Mulan lifted it above her knees and ran, closing the distance between them swiftly before slamming into her father's chest with a muffled cry. She felt his thick arms tighten around her slight frame and heard a grunt that sounded suspiciously like a sob. His cane fell away from him with a light thud as the reunited pair went down to their knees in each other's arms. Mulan shook with the force of her tears, feeling the rough fabric of her father's clothing soak up the dampness of her cheek. He rocked her gently back and forth while rubbing her back, mumbling what sounded like prayers.

They stayed huddled in the dirt for a long while; Shang had arrived too soon after their reunion that morning for them to truly find healing in each other's presence.

It wasn't until the tears slowed that Mulan leaned away. To her surprise, rivers fell down her father's cheeks and into his beard, belying the rest of his facial composure. She'd never seen such a display of emotion from her stoic father. Mulan bunched a portion of her sleeve into her hand and gently dried her father's face. She gave him a quivering smile, "I missed you, Papa."

His lower lip trembled. "And I you," he said thickly. He gently brushed his knuckles against her damp cheeks and smiled softly at her before grasping her forearms and guiding her up into the bench beside them. As they settled, Mulan noticed his subtle attempt to stretch his leg. It seemed as though there was no pain, but Mulan was adept at seeing behind her father's façade.

She hurriedly wiped the rest of her tears away. "You made sure to drink your cups of tea while I was gone, didn't you Papa?" she asked with a watery smile, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

Zhou chuckled as he relaxed his injured limb. "Yes yes, child," he said lowly, flicking the remnants of water from his beard. "Your grandmother was quick to take up the job of reminding me."

The corners of Mulan's mouth turned up at the thought. Grandma Fa couldn't care less that Zhou was the head of the home. She had a way of making her opinion known.

Mulan scooted nearer to her father and settled herself under his arm, relaxing when he placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close. She buried her nose into his side and inhaled the faint trace of earthy incense that burned inside the family temple. Shoulders slumping in relief, Mulan leaned entirely against her father, feeling him support her weight with ease. Oh, how she had missed him.

Minutes passed as both father and child attempted to completely regain their composure. It wasn't until the moon hung high in the sky that Mulan felt her father take a deep breath. "As happy as I am you're home," he began, quietly rumbling, "I admit I'm upset." He paused to see if she would speak. When she remained silent, he continued. "Waking up to the cry of one's mother is a terrible thing, Mulan. Waking up to hear her say that your only daughter is missing is a nightmare," he said softly.

Mulan swallowed painfully, huddling further into his side as though she could hide.

Lifting his eyes to the stars, Zhou continued. "Then to discover she'd stolen your armor, your blade, your horse, and your summons?" he shook his head slowly. "You could not possibly imagine the dread I felt until you have children.

The guilt felt like a sword wound.

"You overstepped your bounds, Daughter, and in doing so trampled the hearts of your family," Zhou said almost harshly. Mulan winced before moving away from him. "You left us with no assurance of your safe return. We prayed and fasted and wept for weeks. You wounded your family in deeper ways than you could possibly know."

Mulan hunched her shoulders at the verbal blows, and forcibly halted the tears threatening to escape her lashes. Her father fell silent, and Mulan waited for him to carry on. When he didn't, she chanced a glance at him and saw his face buried in his hand. His broad shoulders rose and fell with each quaking breath.

"Do you have any idea what you'd have done to this family if you'd been killed?" he asked hoarsely—brokenly. "You'd have destroyed us."

Guilt coiled itself around Mulan's throat, making it hard to breath. At the time, she'd been more concerned about where she was going instead of what she was leaving behind. During her many weeks of training her family was constantly on her mind, though she often rushed to stifle them in an attempt to prevent homesickness. She'd never even considered their fear and grief. Looking back, she knew she'd only been fleeing their disappointment.

Mulan leaned back and clasped his large hand in both of hers. She didn't speak until he looked at her with wet eyes. "I'm sorry, Papa," she said quietly. "I am sorry I caused you all such pain." Squeezing his hand, she said firmly, "But I'm not sorry I left."

The silence lengthened as Mulan felt her father study her. With a single blink, the tears seemed to disappear from his eyes, and he pulled his hand out of her grasp. Mulan felt her face begin to flush as her father's stare became more intense, but she forced herself to not break eye-contact. Crickets chirped soothingly around them, unaware of the crackling tension between the father and daughter.

After several tense seconds he grunted and said, "You've changed, Daughter."

She didn't respond. What he said was true; she had changed, and it wasn't just physically, though Mulan was very aware of those alterations. She was stronger now, rougher. There were calluses where there previously weren't, muscle where there'd once been nothing. The pale skin so valued by society was gone, replaced with a ruddy color beaten into her cheeks from hours in the blazing sun. Her hair wasn't as shiny as it once was; it would have been suspicious to take such care of it while surrounded by men, and it was much shorter. Torn and jagged were her nails with lips that felt permanently chapped. If Mulan were to stand before the ladies of court, or even her female neighbors, they'd be horrified and offended. Where once that might have concerned her, Mulan found she couldn't make herself care. She gained more than she had lost.

It took weeks of training, several battles, and even saving China, but now Mulan could stand up against her true enemy. The mirror no longer threatened her with thoughts of uselessness or inferiority. The army had given her a new identity. She didn't need to be known simply as a bride or a daughter anymore. She was a soldier, a warrior, a Hero. She had value. Everyone had a place in life, and Mulan felt like she found hers. The hearts of her family had been broken in the process, yes, but if she were honest she knew it was worth it.

Now when she stood before her reflection she saw someone worth looking at.

Mulan felt her pride swell. Straightening her back and lifting her chin, Mulan squarely met her father's stare and nodded firmly. Though he remained quiet, his scorching gaze did not drop in intensity. For the first time in her life Mulan felt her father assessing her coldly and calculatingly, and she couldn't halt the drop of sweat that ran down her back. Shang had often stared at his soldiers—at her—in that manner, as though he was stripping every one of them bare and deciding if they had what it took. It was harsh, uncompromising, and utterly terrifying when a stranger evaluated her in such a way. Having her father judge her seemed like life and death.

Leaning back suddenly, her father clenched his jaw and folded his arms over his chest. "I want to know of your training."

Praying he had seen something worthy, Mulan began her tale. She told him about her first day in camp and what a disaster it turned out to be. She talked about the drills she'd practiced—hand-to-hand combat, bow and arrows, stick fighting, sword fighting, endurance, and cannon fire—and described how, after retrieving the arrow from the top of the pole, she showed vast improvement in all aspects of her training. Chi-Fu was brought up as well as her feelings toward him. She described Shang's teaching style, the friendships she formed, as well as how she managed to camouflage herself when in the company of only men. Moving on to their summons by the General, Mulan told her father how the little mountain village had been burned to the ground with the Imperial Army utterly decimated just beyond it.

For a moment she considered telling him about the General being Shang's father but decided against it. It wasn't her story to tell.

Next came the Hun ambush and Mulan plowed through brusquely and with few details. She didn't want her father worrying. The injury she told him about simply because it was near impossible to not notice the bloodstain on the armor. She'd have been more concerned if it escaped his observations. It wasn't until she got to where she was finally discovered that she hesitated.

Zhou noted her silence and spoke for the first time. "Continue," he quietly commanded.

Swallowing thickly, Mulan did as he said. "After passing out from the pain I was carried to the medic's tent. I don't remember too much of it; I just know I woke up after I was bandaged." Losing herself in the memory, Mulan stared beyond her father. "That was when I was discovered," she mumbled. "As the medic bandaged me he noticed obvious anatomical differences and told Captain Li." Reluctant to continue, Mulan glanced at her father and noticed him tense.

He nodded for her to carry on. "I was dragged from the tent and revealed to the men. Chi-Fu threw me to the ground after kindly reminding the company of the punishment for my crime," she said mockingly before sobering. "When I looked up, Shang had his blade and was approaching me." In her mind's eye, Mulan could picture the angry look on Shang's face, Chi-Fu's smug countenance, and the fear clawing its way up her throat. "He had raised the blade to strike me," Mulan took a deep breath, "and then threw it to the ground."

Looking to her father, she noticed his deep frown. "He spared you."

Again she hesitated. "'A life for a life,'" she quoted. "I saved him from Shan-Yu; he saved me from punishment," she said disdainfully. "After that, the men packed up and went to the Imperial City. I was left with a blanket, my armor, and my horse."

She watched her father's mouth curl in anger. "He may have saved you from the law, Daughter, but he condemned you to the mountain. He didn't want your blood on his hands."

Mulan nodded. "I was furious," she affirmed. "But Captain Li apologized formally for his actions." Glancing back toward the house, Mulan's cheeks reddened as she remembered her inappropriate outburst against Shang. She didn't necessarily regret it, but it was still embarrassing. "He isn't a heartless man," she murmured, pointedly not looking at her father.

That fact was obvious to anyone who knew the young captain. A cruel officer didn't spend time with his men, laughing and joking with them. He didn't push them to be better for their own sakes, and he didn't take pride in the image and reputation of his soldiers. Shang drove them, encouraged them, disciplined them, and fought for them. He was fierce when needed and kind the rest. Mulan would never assume so much as to call him a friend, but what she knew of Shang she liked. Even with being a warrior, he was one of the gentlest men she knew.

Mulan stared at her lap, hoping her cheeks would cool. "I believe Shang truly feels guilty for what he did," she mumbled.

"Captain Li's feelings," he emphasized, "don't change his actions, Daughter."

"I'm aware," she said firmly. Looking up at him, she continued. "We've all done things in anger we're not proud of, Father. I think it would be wrong to begrudge a good man for one mistake."

Her father seemed unimpressed. "Continue," he said, gesturing with his hand.

Sensing that topic was far from resolved, Mulan chose to ignore it and continue on. She spoke of how she witnessed members of the Hun army climb out of the snow and continue on to the Imperial City. She mentioned the festival that was being held in honor of Shang and his men and how it made it more difficult to find the remnants of Shan-Yu's army, as well as how they disguised themselves within the parade itself. She attempted to not go into much detail in her confrontation with Shang in the street, knowing he wouldn't approve, but he managed to get it out of her. His face darkened even more, and Mulan felt her heart sink. Pushing forward, she told him of the battle that ensued and how through strength, ingenuity, and luck they managed to defeat Shan-Yu and save the Empire. Finishing her tale, Mulan sat quietly and waited for her father to speak. He studied her again though Mulan detected none of the previous harshness.

"You are very brave, Mulan," he said though he didn't smile. "You have been through much and have learned a great deal about the world and about yourself. A part of me is pleased with this new confidence you have. Another part is saddened at your lost innocence."

Mulan agreed solemnly. "It was a necessary loss."

"Perhaps so," he reluctantly conceded. Silence fell over the two once more as each were consumed with their own thoughts

Mulan studied her father out of the corner of her eye and noticed the strained look on his face. Her account had worried and angered him; his cold expression made that quite evident. Shang had obviously fallen from his good graces, and Mulan could hardly blame him. He hadn't spent enough time around her captain to know how good he was, even while he made mistakes. She lifted a quick prayer to her ancestors that her father would find it in his heart to forgive Shang. It wouldn't be easy; it would be hard for him to absolve the man who'd hurt his daughter. She hoped he would soon; otherwise her next bit of news would meet even greater resistance.

"Father, I have something else to tell you," she said, drawing his attention back to her.

He looked at her warily. "And that would be?"

Swallowing nervously, she began. "After saving the Empire, I earned the favor of the Emperor himself. He honored me even further by offering me a position on his council as his personal advisor." She paused to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows had risen in disbelief though he remained silent. Deciding it was a good thing, she pressed on. "I humbly turned it down at the time for I was eager to return home. I was also offered a position as captain in the Imperial Army," she said, deciding it would be better to not mention it was Shang's request.

Her father seemed lost for words. "Those are superb opportunities, Mulan," he finally got out, "ones that come with great honor. However," he said gravely, his face lining once more, "I do not wish for you to be put in more danger. The captain position will certainly place you in it, and being a councilwoman will make you a target for a wholly different kind of danger."

"Nonetheless, I will accept one of them," said Mulan, glancing quickly to the window of Shang's room. "To not accept either would be an insult to the Emperor."

Zhou's lips pursed in agitation. "What you've done for China is indeed honorable. Please do not think I'm not proud of you, Daughter, because I am. You are worth more to me than ten sons, even before you saved the Empire." Mulan felt herself swell from his praise. "But hear me now, Mulan," he said, his voice swelling. "Where it concerns your safety I couldn't care less about honor, China, or the Emperor."

Mulan's eyes widened at his treasonous words. The punishment for speaking such things was cruel and lasting.

His gaze softened at her bewildered look. "All I want is for you to be happy, healthy, and safe. Is that really so difficult for you to understand?"

His words echoed deeply in the darkness as Mulan considered them. She was not upset with her father at his resistance. She understood truly. It just didn't change anything. "I do understand your concerns, Father," she said softly. "And the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I'm afraid, in this moment, I must be selfish." Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she said, "I'm going to accept one of the offers, regardless of anything. What I want more than anything is your support," she finished quietly.

Her father scowled. "'Regardless of anything?'" he quoted angrily. "What happened to honoring your father," he snapped. She winced but stayed quiet. "If I say yes, you leave. If I say no, you leave anyway." Zhou fixed her with a glare. "You've backed me into a corner, Mulan. Don't expect me to gladly give you my support."

Mulan wilted in her seat. "I understand," she mumbled.

An awkward silence fell between the father and daughter that neither seemed willing to fill. After several agonizing seconds, Zhou dismissed her. She rose quickly and marched steadily back to her room. The tears in her eyes didn't alter her pace.

~.~

The next morning came and went quickly before Zhou found his way to his favorite bench. Checking swiftly for observers, he lowered himself painfully and gave a groan before connecting with the seat. He leaned forward on his cane and took deep breaths, waiting for his thigh to stop pulsing. For whatever reason, his old injury hurt worse this morning than previous ones. Bowing his head, he spent several minutes in humble prayer to his ancestors. He apologized for his selfish request before asking for healing and a clear mind.

Finishing, he lifted his head to observe the grounds. Khan and Captain Li's horse seemed to be getting along in their pen, though that was to be expected. They were already familiar with each other, and Mulan had assured him last night that they'd never had problems with the two. He could hear sounds coming from the house though he wasn't sure who it was. The only person he'd seen today was his wife, and she'd dressed swiftly in order to prepare breakfast for their guest.

At the thought of Captain Li, Zhou's jaw clenched. To say he wished him gone would be an understatement. The tranquility of his life had been disrupted, and he had to resist the urge to place the blame entirely at the young man's feet; especially upon discovering the captain had left his daughter on the mountainside. Mulan may have chosen to leave by her own counsel, but that didn't mean Zhou couldn't fault Shang for it.

Unfortunately, however, Zhou was neither simple man nor fool. During his time in the army, he was known for having a keen sense of discernment. Determining the intentions of friends and strangers alike seemed mere child's play, and nine times out of ten he was correct. It was that combined with his superb fighting abilities and sharp mind that allowed him to rise swiftly through the ranks.

To his dismay, never once the previous evening did he sense something amiss with Shang; therefore, he could not justify himself for his anger beyond that of an enraged father. In fact, he had found himself growing fond of him, even after his confession before dinner. There was an eagerness and a strength about the young captain that set him apart from other officers that had grown arrogant with their own quick promotions. It was only after Mulan told him about her discovery that Zhou had become angry.

It was irrational, he knew. The captain had been put in an impossible situation. Mulan had pretended to be a man in the army. Shang, being a military man through and through, must have known immediately what the punishment was. Nevertheless, the old man was still unwilling to be understanding. The soldier in Zhou might have felt compassion for Captain Li, but that part of him had slept peacefully deep within him for many years. The father in him had stood alert and at attention since the birth of his child, and the flame of his anger burned brightly.

The door to his home opened wide revealing the object of his thoughts, and Zhou had to force himself not to scowl. Glancing to the heavens, he saw how high the sun had risen and hoped the boy-captain left soon. He watched him finish a conversation with a figure in the hall. From his relaxed posture, the old warrior assumed he was speaking with his daughter. Lines etched their way across his brow. Suddenly, Captain Li shut the door and strode off the porch straight toward him. Resisting the urge to groan, Zhou closed his eyes and lifted his chin to the breeze, praying desperately for patience.

"Good morning, sir," said the captain.

"Good morning," Zhou responded curtly, refusing to open his eyes.

There was a pause before Shang spoke. "May I sit?"

Scooting himself slightly in affirmation, he felt the captain lower himself to the bench. "Your wife is an excellent cook, sir. I'm not ashamed to say I asked for seconds," he said. Surprisingly, Zhou did not detect a hint of displeasure in his voice. In a rather childish display—and to the dismay of his wife—Zhou had chosen not to meet his guest for breakfast, hoping the captain would sense his discontentment. He smothered the urge to grimace. "She is very good," he agreed quietly.

Captain Li continued on. "She packed more for my journey back as I plan on leaving for the Imperial City in an hour or so. I came to say farewell and to thank you for your hospitality."

Zhou's back prickled. "It was the least we could do," he forced past his stubborn lips. An awkward silence fell between them.

"I had first heard of your heroics when I was a boy in training." Surprised at the change of subject, Zhou opened his eyes and glanced over at Captain Li. He was sitting rod-straight, gaze forward. "My teachers always managed to mention you in lecture, and all the students wanted to be you. Myself included." The corners of the captain's lips turned up before he glanced over to the older man. Meeting his eyes, the captain's smile turned sheepish. "We spoke of you at length. Especially when we heard you'd defeated the Mongolian army while outnumbered five to one. It was widely believed Guan Di* was your ancestor, and you fought with his blade."

Though still aggravated by the young man, Zhou couldn't stop the amused twitch of his lips. "People are prone to exaggeration, Captain. The Mongolian army outnumbered us, yes, but only three to one. We won that battle not for my own prowess, but because I had the best soldiers in the land at my back." Zhou smiled wryly, "And while I have many warrior ancestors I cannot place Guan Di amongst them. The blade I swung was made for me a few weeks before I went off to training."

The captain grinned widely. "I figured as much, though I believe it is good for a boy to hold such things as truth. It is inspiring. It motivated me to become the best." Losing his smile, he turned his eyes back to his lap and mumbled, "I suppose a part of me hoped, if I were to ever meet you, I'd be able to stand before you proudly—as an equal."

Stilling, Zhou studied the young man beside him. Though startled, he'd be lying if he said he didn't understand. When he himself was just a boy, there had been a man, Zhuang On, that everyone knew of. He had been courageous, brilliant, and strong. He inspired his men to do things no one had thought possible. Zhou had wanted to be just like him, though he'd died before Zhou had a chance to meet him.

He had seen the admiration in the young man's eyes, and—despite his opinion of Captain Li—he couldn't help but feel humbled. In his prime, Zhou had been arrogant though he'd hidden it well. The respect he'd easily gained became something he felt he deserved. The rumors of his accomplishments spread like wildfire, and he had encouraged even the wildest claims. It wasn't until he was wounded that he understood his own mortality. His pride had been ripped away from him when he went from slaying dozens on the battlefield to requiring the assistance of his wife to leave his bed.

"You honor me with your praise, Captain," he said quietly, "no matter how undeserved it may be."

Frowning, Captain Li looked at him in confusion. "Sir?"

"I was an arrogant young man, Captain. Drunk on my youth, I thought myself invincible, immortal, and powerful, and I expected others to see me in the same light." He placed both hands on his cane and sighed. "I'm not so self-deprecating that I won't acknowledge my success. Yes, I was excellent at what I did. I was a naturally gifted warrior, one who came to life in battle. And you're right when you say it is good for boys to believe in such things," Zhou met his gaze squarely. "but you're no longer a boy, Captain."

Captain Li swallowed thickly but remained silent. Zhou let the quiet stretch a bit longer before speaking. "You're father was General Li?" He watched as the young man's body stiffened.

"Yes, sir," he said, expressionless.

Compassion seeped through Zhou's cracked defense. "I heard news of his passing a few days ago. He was a great man and died with honor." Captain Li nodded formally. "You worshipped your father in life, as all boys do their fathers. It is natural and expected. But I'm afraid I must ask you not to try and fill his place in your heart with another." Gesturing down to his crippled body, Zhou continued, "What you see before you is an old, broken soldier, Captain. Trying to put me on the pedestal of your father will not heal your spirit."

Pausing, Zhou attempted to read Li's boy, but couldn't manage it. It seemed he had his father's gift of self-control. His posture hadn't changed nor had his expression, but Zhou could sense his sadness. It was vast and weighty. Despite himself, he searched for a way to comfort the younger man.

"You're father was a good man. We often fought together years ago."

Life seemed to flood back into the captain. "He never spoke of you."

Zhou's lips curled in humor. "We were never fond of each other. We had been professional rivals right up until I was injured."

Captain Li's mouth dropped and eyes widened in shock. Realizing his rather imbecilic pose, Shang snapped his jaw shut. "Why?" he demanded. With such an expression, the captain seemed years younger.

"We were very different," he said simply. "You're father was brilliant. He was a great strategist, a mighty warrior, and a force to be reckoned with. He valued discipline and tradition above all else, and he irritated me greatly for it," Zhou said, grinning boyishly. The look of confusion on Captain Li's face was all Zhou needed. He now knew he sat next to a carbon-copy of his old friend. "I imagine I angered him on several occasions as I was the complete opposite. I wasn't much of a strategist. I had been renowned for acting on my instincts. Ferocity and loyalty was what I had looked for in my men. If we were passionate for our cause, I figured the rest would figure itself out."

The captain frowned. "I suppose, looking back on my studies, your approach to warfare was rather," he paused, "unconventional."

Zhou couldn't help but laugh heartily. "If you're anything like your father," he said between chortles, "the words you're looking for are irresponsible, idiotic, and foolhardy."

Reaching up, Captain Li made as though to scratch his crown before catching himself. He quickly lowered his arm and smiled awkwardly. "Of course not, sir."

Snorting in disbelief, Zhou took in a breath and let it out slowly, allowing a sense of melancholy to settle on his shoulders. "We worked well together. We both had strengths that covered the other's weakness, even if we didn't want to admit it." Sorrow tugged at Zhou's heart. "Battle is a curious thing, Captain," he said slowly. "Death and fear are rampant, yes, but it acts almost as a lens. I never saw your father more clearly then when we fought side by side," he said, turning to face Captain Li. "I can tell you honestly that I knew your father in a way few others did." Zhou dropped his large hand on the young captain's shoulder and squeezed. "So you can believe me, Captain, when I say I see him in you." Watching the boy's face crack, Zhou continued. "He would be nothing but proud of the man you've become." Captain Li dropped his head, inhaling sharply. Hard shoulders trembled beneath his calloused hand, and—because Fa Zhou understood pride—he released him and turned away, returning his attention to the horses.

It seemed Mulan had entered the pen unnoticed by either man. Watching her progress, Zhou frowned in confusion as she gathered a saddle. Was she going somewhere? Mulan answered the question herself when she placed it on the back of Shang's horse, shifting it around to get it in the appropriate place. She was preparing for Captain Li's departure.

Pursing his lips, Zhou narrowed his eyes in thought. The offer Mulan received to be a personal advisor to the Emperor must have come from His Majesty himself, but to have him offer her a position as captain was unusual. The Emperor normally didn't involve himself in the promotions of soldiers. He left that up to his generals. It wasn't necessarily unheard of, but it was definitely unusual—though he supposed a woman earning the approval of the Emperor through saving his kingdom was strange in and of itself. Nevertheless, the whole thing remained fairly suspicious. Perhaps His Majesty had changed in the decades since Zhou served under him, but he highly doubted it. The Emperor was as steady as the passing of time. Change was not in the Emperor's nature

Thinking back to the previous evening, he remembered how Mulan's gaze had often darted to the house. Zhou was not so blind as to think Mulan was thinking of her mother, especially as he watched her cheeks redden on each occasion. Glancing over at the young captain, Zhou noticed that he'd gathered himself and was also watching Mulan's movement. His feelings of sympathy for the boy dissolved as he noted Captain Li's soft and confused look, and he made an effort to think past it.

Such an offer would have been a public affair, perhaps even a part of the scheduled festival. The captain might have been present when the Emperor made his offer for her military promotion and council position. How much did the young man know, and would he be willing to tell him? Judging from his look, he wouldn't mind talking about his daughter.

"I was the first to discover the remains of my father's men," mumbled the Captain, interrupting Zhou's thoughts. The captain had leaned forward to place his hands on his knees and lowered his head. Though his shoulders were rigid through sheer will, it was the most desolate posture the honor-bound warrior had assumed. "I had sent a few to go through the wreckage and they brought back the helmet of my father—," he cut himself off to steady himself. "I couldn't leave without honoring him in some way. So I thrust sword into the snow and left his helmet balanced on the hilt." Suddenly, Captain Li stood swiftly and took a couple steps forward, keeping his back to Zhou.

For a moment, Zhou was angered at his disrespect, but he cooled it just as quickly. Captain Li might be a great many things, but, in their short acquaintanceship, Zhou knew him to be respectful to a fault. He must be under great emotional distress to allow himself to behave in such a manner.

"I was—," the captain cut himself off and crossed his arms. "I was emotional and in a hurry to leave the area. I had gotten my horse and was leading my men further into the mountains when I allowed myself one last look at my father's grave. That was when I saw Mulan." Zhou's eyebrows puckered in confusion. Captain Li's shoulders had fallen, finally giving in to the weight of his grief though he kept his back facing Zhou. "Though we had all moved on, I saw her crouching in front of my father's helmet. In my state I had forgotten to pray for his passing spirit." With a deep breath that shook his large body, Captain Li quickly wiped his face with his hand and placed both on his hips. "It was thoughtless of me, to forget something so important. There are not words to describe the gratitude I felt toward Ping in that moment." With a another deep breath that closely resembled a sniff, Captain Li turned forcefully and sat back down next to Zhou with a solid thump.

"My wife and I have always tried to instill a sense of honor and respect for the dead in Mulan. I am pleased that she was able to help," Zhou said sincerely, proud of Mulan for being sensitive to the needs of Shang and his father's spirit.

Shang turned to him and gave a small smile. "You did well." Turning his gaze back to his lap, Captain Li began fiddling with his fingers. "The past few days I've been thinking over the behaviors of Ping and trying to line them up with what little I know of Mulan," his fiddling slowed. "I don't know much, but I do know this," he turned and faced Zhou head-on, "your daughter is special."

A bristling feeling rumbled deep in Zhou's chest. "Yes, my daughter is truly a blessing," he said quietly. Both men stared at each other before Captain Li returned his attention to Mulan. Holding back his urge to glare, Zhou also turned away from Shang. What the young captain had said sounded too much like a declaration for comfort. He assumed too much if he thought Zhou would readily accept this…interest Captain Li had in his daughter. While he had no doubt Shang was a good soldier and man, he had absolutely no desire to see him around Mulan for any length of time.

It would be a long time before he would forget the events on the mountain.

A tense silence enfolded the two warriors until Mulan finished Captain Li's packing. Both men stood and gave formal farewells before Captain Li strode off to collect his things from Mulan. Zhou watched from his bench as the captain spent a few minutes in conversation with his daughter before mounting his horse. Just as he was about to ride off, he paused, said something fleetingly over his shoulder, and galloped out of their yard. With a sinking feeling, Zhou watched as Mulan stared after him long after he was gone.

As much as he wished it wasn't so, Zhou knew he'd be seeing Shang in the very near future.

The sun had begun to color the sky in farewell when Mulan began brushing down Khan from their evening ride. Shang had left several hours earlier and even now Mulan couldn't hide the smile that was starting to seem permanent.

Their farewell had been formal yet friendly. He seemed a little hesitant, though about what Mulan couldn't say. He had just swung his leg over his powerful steed when Mulan felt a pang in her chest. She would miss him terribly.

His horse had only taken a few steps when he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "I hope we get the chance to see each other again, Fa Mulan," he'd said quickly, the back of his neck a deep scarlet, before galloping off their property.

Mulan smiled and pressed her face into Khan's flank. She hoped they did too.

A/N: I'd like to start out by thanking everyone who took the time to read/review/favorite/follow this story! I have been completely and totally blown away by all the positive feedback I've received! For a while there my email was blowing up with notifications. All the reviews were encouraging and had wonderful advice, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. You're all fantastic!

I'd also like to apologize for how long it took me to get this out. I had a bit of writers block, lost my flash drive, and got distracted by life in general. Thanks for the patience! I'm also sorry for my incorrect use of kimonos in the last chapter. I literally face-palmed when a couple people pointed it out. Such a silly error! I went back and fixed it a few weeks ago, so everything should be good now *fingers crossed*

I'm really happy you liked the confrontation between Mulan and Shang! I'm actually surprised more people hadn't taken this approach in their story...

I'll also be going through now to respond to each of your comments (cause I'm a terrible person and haven't done that yet), so for those that have reviewed get ready for my reply!

Now for this chapter, there were a lot of things I tried to incorporate in it, but there is really too much for me to go over in one author's note. Some were huge and some were just the importance of a single line or word. All I can do is hope you get what I was trying to say!

I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. Please read and review!

*Guan Di: a Chinese general who became deified and worshiped as early as the Sui Dynasty