It is not because Mulan didn't like Tarkhan,
On the contrary, it is quite the opposite.
Zetian looked out of the window from her carriage, watching the first light of the dusk sky and the gentle-sloping landscape zipped by. The day was young. Across her seat, Wentai and Min Lung were fast asleep on their nursemaid's lap, snoring lightly. Next to her, Di-Tan was nodding the same way they did, only louder. She sighed softly. Despite the short, disturbed rest last night, sleep was nowhere to be found.
They were heading to the Wei summer palace in Fujian, where she was supposed to spend months of respite during her pregnancy, away from the stress and pressure of the Forbidden City, in a quiet place where she could have a good night's sleep, quality produce and fresh air.
It was a great, logical idea when Di-Tan presented it to her yesterday. It was no surprise to her that the healer knew about her pregnancy without any telling sign, but it sounded almost a rushed, sudden decision to move her to the Summer Palace. They had less than 24 hours to pack. Servants and eunuchs flew in all different directions, trying to prepare her for her departure.
She got a strong feeling Shao was behind this. He sent them away with nothing but a strangely cold stare.
He wasn't stupid. He must have known something but chose to play dumb. As a precaution, she commanded Yan-Shu to take a sabbatical and sent him back to his village, where Shao had no reason to harm him. Then she told Baoxi to tend to the Emperor's chamber so he could keep a tab on her husband in her absence.
It hurt her how he acted, not that hating her was anything new. But there was something different in the silent look on his eyes as he sent her off this morning. There was betrayal, anger and….hurt.
"He deserves it," she recalled Altan telling her. "He deserves to suffer far more than you and I."
Thinking back, it was absurdly reckless of her to meet a fully armed Huns Princess who was perfectly capable of chopping her head off all alone. But when Altan said she had just uncovered the Middle Kingdom's greatest secret, her curiosity peaked.
Obviously, Altan won't just present that precious intel and hand it to her on a plate. The Huns princess wanted a deal. She invited her over to discuss her plan to uncover what Shao had done in front of everyone. "It is time for the world to know," she said.
Initially, Zetian strongly opposed her idea to stage a performance in front of her Generals and Council. She was perfectly at peace with the current arrangement, even when she was forced to sleep with her father's murderer. She even made peace with the fact that there was always "another woman" in her husband's life. Sure, there were days she became a little insecure. Still, she normally recovered rather quickly and applied the usual formula: she put her worries to rest and focused on trying to lock up her resentment in a tiny little box at the back of her mind and throw away the key.
But when danger came, he jumped to protect his consort. Everyone recognised the action for what it was—Shao declaring that his consort was what all it mattered to him, no matter the General's wishes or the public's reservations.
And her heart was shattered all over again.
You knew this was coming, she berated herself, rubbing at her chest, at the spot that ached whenever she thought about this. This temporary separation was for the best.
"He is not just robbing you of your father and Fa Mulan of her husband," she recalled Altan told her, "He took a lot more. Way more!"
She looked down at the scroll on her lap. Everything it said still sounded so unreal. She still couldn't believe it. She had a brother. Even a brother she would never know.
Altan knew it was a matter of time until Shao and his soldiers realised what had happened and caught up with her. So, when they found her over the city limits, she had no effort to run away.
"Stop right there!" one of the guards said. A group of soldiers dismounted from their horses, surrounding them, She gazed at Shao, who was making his way to her with hands behind his back.
"Check everything," he ordered as he paced around her. She sneered, "What makes you think you can do that without my permission?" Shao just answered her with a sharp glare.
The sentries didn't say a word and continued to ransack their belongings, large crate, cart, and large sacks. Altan knew what they were looking for. More importantly, who they were looking for.
"You gotta be kidding! Consort Fa was still in the palace when my entourage left the city gate! Your men sent me away, you know that! You certainly can see it was just three of us. What makes you think I have taken her hostage?"
"Did you?" he grabbed her wrist, but Altan was quick to deflect it.
"What do you think? Go and look. Let the proof speak for itself," she challenged.
Minutes passed, and there were no signs or traces of Fa Mulan. Knowing that he couldn't find what he was looking for, Shao commanded the guards to retreat. "Wherever she is, I'll find her!" he hissed. Altan didn't miss out on the way Shao and Tarkhan exchanged deathly glares but said nothing.
"I'd say you are barking on the wrong tree," she said calmly, watching them climbing onto their horses. "Don't you think Zetian had better motives to kidnap your consort after the showdown of favouritism in the courtroom? You clearly didn't value your Empress. Not as much as your concubine anyway."
Shao narrowed his eyes in ire, "You think you can manipulate me?"
Altan laughed. "Shao, since when did you become this gullible? How do you think my Generals and I managed to get into your courtroom fully armed with all swords and projectiles and into our meeting? How do you think your soldiers let us out unscathed after aiming an arrow straight at your face? No one in the Forbidden Palace dared to touch us. Does it occur to you that there has to be someone powerful giving them orders?" Altan smirked, watching the realisation cascade down Shao's face. "Zetian isn't just your wife, Shao. She is your Empress. A clever one too. Go home and ask her."
Shao's face hardened, but since his men found no clues to incriminate these Huns, he had no choice but to leave.
Shao's move was very much calculated by Altan. Therefore, she had ordered Ba'atar to leave unconscious Ping with Suying, a Chinese girl whom she had previously saved when her carriage was attacked by bandits over a year ago.
To avoid suspicion, Suying took Ping to the edge of a village where the inns and the road were generally quiet.
After they were sure the Chinese were fooled, they reunited at the point of rendezvous. Altan found her hapless captive had regained consciousness despite looking disorientated. Whatever concoction Zetain gave her must have done a number on her.
Ping was sitting awkwardly on the bed, hands tied behind her back.
"Sorry about the tie," she cut the ropes around her hands and noticed the blisters it caused.
Ping scoffed, "I'm sure this is intentional," and riveted her eyes at Altan, who had made herself comfortable on the small settee in the room. "You could've asked nicely instead of kidnapping me with you."
"Believe me, I tried," Altan replied casually, dismissing Suying. "You have one possessive husband, Consort Fa." And offered her one cup as she drank the other. "Tea?"
Ping gave her one unimpressed look but accepted the drink anyway.
There were many things she must tell Ping, and Altan figured it was best that she eased to tell her a little bit at a time.
"Zetian thinks you won't agree to come with me if that means you must leave your children. But she said she'll ensure they are well taken care of."
A look of realisation and indignation grew on her face at what must have happened. "Zetian works together with you?"
Altan put up her hands, "Hey, this peace-keeping thing… friendship thing… was your idea. Remember? You said we must set an example as leaders so our followers follow suit. Your aid in the earthquake to the Huns had bridged the ties between the two nations. These past years, our people gradually began to trust each other again like they once were. I tried to ask Shao nicely about borrowing you for another important mission… but he declined it point blank. If it was not for your wise Empress, who could see the bigger picture, there is a good chance you and I would return to the battlefield again."
Ping rolled her eyes. If both nations worked together, this wasn't how she pictured it. "Great," she muttered with a heavy hint of sarcasm. "What is that mission you want me to get involved in?"
"Patience… Ping. I'll come to that when we arrive back in the capital," she said. "You need to rest so you'll be ready to meet all my generals right after this long journey."
On the second inspection, Ping realised Altan was alone, and the Huns Generals weren't with her. "I've sent them home ahead of us," Altan answered the question that was written all over her face. "They are going to prepare everything for our arrival. There is a lot to do. Rest well today, and we'll continue the journey tomorrow."
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Ping replied flatly.
"Oh yes…I'd say you look well, better than when I saw you back at the regiment," Altan said with a slight mock. Of course, with Shao's wealth cushioning her every fall, plus Baoxi's unsolicited fashion input and infinite servants at her disposal, it was hard to look ugly, deprived or stricken. "But you need to look better than just 'well', because tomorrow you will meet one of your fellow countrymen."
Ping's brow raised slightly, and Altan continued, "Do you know that one of my new generals is Chinese? A former Chinese Captain, to be precise?"
Pink blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Don't you recognise him from behind his mask? At least his voice?"
Right then, it looked like someone had just shot Ping on her head. Although it sounded cruel, Altan would lie if she didn't enjoy it. "You guess rightly. General Tarkhan is your former husband, Li Shang," she explained, taking a pause and smirking lightly at her utterly thunderstruck face. "He is alive. I saved him."
The journey next day went on long and hard. It was like a strange dream Mulan couldn't wake up from.
Despite having very little respite, the following day at sunrise, Mulan was escorted to the main royal tent for breakfast. It was the Khan's primary dwelling, and adjacent to it was the room they had usually used for meetings. Thankfully, there was no one else having breakfast except she and…
"Consort Fa?" As Mulan had learnt, this hulking mass everyone called General Ba'atar was a compassionate and gentle giant. He had been personally delivering her breakfast and blanket and setting up her bed. Despite his stature, he was soft-spoken and patient.
"You haven't touched your breakfast," he commented, looking towards the untouched food. "If this doesn't taste…"
"General, the food tasted fine. I just…" she sighed. "I lost my appetite."
"Some fruit and sweet tea, maybe? You need to gain strength after such a long journey and very little sleep. Here, look, I've picked it myself," he placed a basket of peaches and pears, and Mulan found herself unable to refuse.
"Thank you, General," she said as she took a small bite. She hoped the rest of the Huns would be just like him.
"Are you sure you are fine?" he eyed her with concern.
"Yes, No… I mean I…—" She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. She'd believed Altan when she told her that Shang was alive, but she hadn't understood it until this minute.
He sat on the floor beside her, "This is just an introduction of you in front of the Huns' inner circle. There'll be Chu'ulun — the Khan's advisor, Arban the head of the tribe, Princess Altansarnai and me. It won't be just you and General Tarkhan."
She swallowed thickly. Mulan realised she couldn't live under the curse of fear of confronting reality.
In the next hour, she entered the meeting room, her feet carrying her there of their own volition while the rest of her was still paralysed by indecision.
And there he was, standing less than twenty feet away, a living, breathing man - an older and wiser version of the man she'd loved once.
You'll be fine. You'll be fine. She chanted to herself. Just avoid eye contact.
"Comrades, let me introduce you," Altan began, and Mulan stepped forward and saluted them individually. Some old faces and many new ones, but all their name sounded like some meaningless syllables. Well, all except ones.
"...lastly, General Tarkhan Otgonbayar."
Rebounding her courage, she approached him as she did with the rest of the Hun's inner circle.
"Venerable Fa Mulan," he greeted, bowing politely without meeting her eyes. For that, Mulan was grateful.
"General Tarkhan," she replied, forcing her voice to be firm to hide the overwhelming emotion that was raging inside her chest.
Shang still looked the same: an unyielding mass of strong, straight lines (chiselled cheek and jaw) tempered here and there by scars. Upon close inspection, she realised he had lost his right leg, but his figure remained as imposing as it once was with complete limbs. His uniform was different; he was wrapped in traditional Mongolian deel with fur around his neck, but he wore it the same way: tailored to the swooning point.
"I'm honoured to be requested to work with you all. I've spoken to the Princess and requested that I report directly to her. For updates and discussion, please do so in writing, as I would like only to attend whenever necessary. Thank you," Mulan blurted on.
That genuinely puzzled him when she just barged through her explanation in one single unpunctuated sentence as though she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, which was true. Because one, it wasn't really her business: if the Huns wanted to exclude her from their tactical discussion or being vaguely truthful...it wasn't a crime. And two: she really wanted to leave. Or at least just…. hide.
"Consort Fa," Altan's voice stopped her from retreating from under the shadow. "I believe General Tarkhan has something to discuss with you," she gestured the equally unwilling man to talk to her.
He began by clearing his throat, looking uncomfortable as she was (except he looked adorable, while perhaps she looked like a train wreck). "Venerable Fa Mulan…"
"Just called me Ping."
"Right, Ping." If he tried to sound cold and aloof, it was certainly working. Then she remembered that 'bossy' was Shang's middle name. Mulan could only roll her eyes while the rest of the Huns smirked amusedly at their interaction.
At first, Mulan thought it would be better if he didn't address her as 'Mulan', because that's how he called her when she was still his wife. But calling her 'Ping' was so much worse. It reminded her of the time he treated her as a comrade, as a friend…. As his equal. This was frustrating! Perhaps it would be a better idea to pick a new name altogether!
"Our first mission is to extract the Hun's former strategist, Hayabusa, from the Qin's prison. You'll be deployed together with me. So, if you don't mind, I would like to ask you to stay for the entire meeting."
A mission with him? Now, that was news.
"Here is the plan outline," he passed her a scroll. Among all the officers, why would Altan pick him to deal with her? She glanced at Altan who had a mischievous smirk all along. Whatever she was gaining on this, she clearly enjoyed it.
And Mulan learnt that any meeting in any country was all the same. It went unforgivingly long and despicably complicated. Chu'ulun was in the front of the room, talking in length about the country's defence and spelling out their current political concern. He was very concerned about the recent rumours of how their former strategist, Hayabusa, was captured by the Qin's soldier. First, he wasn't sure where Hayabusa's loyalty stood. Hayabusa was the only survivor of the explosion under very suspicious circumstances. But they still wanted to prevent him from being bribed or tortured for the country's confidential information. In Mulan's eyes, the situation was all very ironic, having the Huns engaging not one… but two Chinese citizens who had massacred their top politician and killed multitudes of their comrades.
She glanced through the room. Shang and other leaders on the opposite ends silently leaf through the scroll, absorbing the information. Or trying, at least.
It wasn't what Mulan considered as the perfect learning environment. The room was too silent, the glaring light from partially netted covered roof was too intrusive, and…. Shang's… no Tarkhan's presence was distracting.
She stared blankly at the handouts. Her understanding of the Hun dialect was fine. She had taken it since her engagement with Shao as part of the requirement as a government official. And since her first visit after the earthquake, she had practised plenty. But the usual familiar jargon had become an indecipherable hodgepodge of meaningless character and punctuation in front of her eyes. She was incapable of thinking, let alone deducing anything strategic.
Before her logical brain even reconsidered, her eyes decidedly flew towards the silhouette at the far end of the table. Shang was tapping his finger on the table. His hands had always captivated her: they were long, muscular and slender, full of marvellous calluses and cut marks. His profile too — the carved lines of his cheekbones and jaw as he bent to decipher his notes - nearly undid her resolve more than once. He had the maddening habit of frowning when he was deep in thought and how he fiddled with the collar of his robes.
She was so busy with her own thoughts that she didn't realise when the meeting concluded and everyone had left. She walked out of the tent slowly, mind still muddled into a strange cloud, unable to process the event unfolding in the past few days.
Mulan couldn't vocalise how she would feel having Shang back into her life. Wasn't she supposed to be pleased he was not dead after all? She didn't know. One side of her definitely relieved that Shang hadn't gone missing or endured being tortured in the enemy prison for a prolonged period of time. But another part of her would rather he died a hero and remained dead on the ground.
But now, Shang as a Huns General? Who was she kidding?
Last night, Ba'atar kindly explained that Shang suffered from temporary memory loss after the blast. And for whatever inconceivable reason, Altan decided she wanted to save him. Mulan didn't know whether this Hun's princess had a plan for him or used him as a weapon against the Chinese or… she had done so because of the benevolence and humanity in her heart.
Despite the absurdity, Shang seemed to have taken the post willingly. He was, after all, an embodiment of a warrior. Fighting was the element of his heart and soul regardless of which side he was on. But it was clear he had no intention of returning back to his old life.
Part of her was relieved that she wouldn't have to confront Shang of their past; another part of her felt deeply betrayed that he had selectively chosen to dispose of that part of his life. The part that he shared with her.
Outside, Mulan leaned back against the tree bark, blinking against the sudden burning in her eyes. She didn't think people were 'destined' to be together and had even laughed a bit at the idea. After months of enduring wars, fooling deaths and many trials in between, she believed the fate of their love had been written somewhere among the stars.
A familiar baritone from an earshot distance distracted her.
"I tell you, taking her with us is a dangerous move." It was unmistakably Shang's voice, with its usual authoritative and judgemental undertone. "What if the Emperor of the Middle Kingdom found out his favourite concubine is here?"
"We need her. She'll be useful to us," Altan replied firmly.
"She is the wife of your worst enemy; how can a person like that be trusted?" he shot her down.
"The same way I can trust a man who killed my generals, my soldiers and my family," Altan bit back.
"I didn't do it because I wanted to. I did it because I have to! It was an order. There is no personal vendetta in my action!"
"Tarkhan… why don't you sit down," came Ba'atar's patient voice. He was ever such a peacekeeper. "A woman who had lost her most treasured possession was a force to be reckoned with. Don't you think she felt as bitter about Shao Wei as much as you do? That prince of Wei lied and made use of you both!"
Mulan could never explain how soothing Shang's voice was to her ears. But right now, Shang treated her like she was excess baggage that she had a hard time reconciling the picture of an emotional reunion with her supposedly dead husband and her meeting with the ill-tempered Hun General with prosthetic limbs. At least the brooding part and lack of social ineptitude hadn't changed yet. He was still Shang, the man she once loved.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to dwell in the past. Her mind flew far away, over the snowy peaks of Tung Shao Pass. Together on the ground were two figures, surrounded by thousands of Huns with no chance of escape, a precarious moment that was forever preserved in her broken heart.
This was the love that she had gained….and lost in time.