"I am Chien-Po," the man with the rotund belly introduced himself.
"I am Fa Ping… ―well supposed to be," Mulan replied. "Fa Mulan is my real name."
"I am Ling. Wait! You guys know me." Then he beamed at Mulan. "Mulan and I were neighbours in her village before I moved away."
"Yes, I remember you were bullied a lot," Mulan chuckled.
"Hey!"
Mulan ignored him. "Remember Qiang, the tall, brawny guy in your class?"
"Oh heavens, yeah. That jerk. Are you two still in touch? I remember you have a major crush on him."
"What? Me? No way!" Mulan said, repulsed.
"Nah, I won't blame you. He is quite handsome... and always dress to kill. Quite confident too. Girls like a confident guy."
"A bit too confident. He has serious body odour issues but is completely oblivious about it," Mulan made a gagging noise. "I have never seen anyone that narcissistic."
"I forgot about that," Ling laughed as his thought drifted off memory lane. "Armpit of doom," he smiled. "I heard he has married already."
"My cousin Ren went to his wedding last year. He said he wasn't the guy we all knew in adolescence. This man tripped over himself, stuttered when he spoke to his new wife and greeted Ren with a hug and flowery speech that Ren needed to remind him he was a straight man!"
"Woah, he is totally whipped," Chien-Po joined in.
"Who is his new wife?"
Mulan shrugged. "Ren said someone from the city."
"Is she cute?" Ling said curiously.
"You remember Ah Mei?"
"Yeah."
"Hotter than Ah Mei."
Ling's jaw dropped. "Life is not fair!"
Mulan laughed but was very much aware of Chien-Po who was listening to their nostalgic drama patiently. "So, how did you two meet?"
"Well," Ling rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "Chien-Po and I were mates in… ―"
"Chinese Orchestra," his friend finished for him.
"What? You played?" Mulan's brow climbed to her hairline, while her scrawny ex-neighbour blushed from head to toe. For the better part of his life, the guy was famously known for his tall, slender figure and slightly effeminate body language. It often incited profuse bullying and was the source of a lot of mocking.
"I played the gong while Ling played something more dignified―erhu. The local temple where we lived had a few monks looking for something to do―I guess constant peace and tranquillity could be boring at times," Chien-Po offered as an explanation.
"Anyway, how come you two are here? I mean… weren't all the soldiers supposed to gather a few weeks ago?" Mulan asked.
"I have just…. become engaged, so…. ―" Chien-Po confessed shyly, his chubby cheeks blooming with happiness and pride, which Mulan found rather adorable.
"And I just recovered from typhoid," explained Ling, and that was enough to wipe any trace of a smile off Mulan's face.
"Speaking about that, I'm starving, I haven't eaten anything since noon," Ling continued, reaching into his sack to pull out a bag of pork buns and dumplings. "Recovering boy needs some nourishment," he went on and offered some to Chien-Po, who obviously delighted in the unexpected blessing.
"My mom's speciality, have some. Mulan―?"
She didn't see the portion of the pork bun and dumpling that currently danced across her vision. She was suddenly reminded of her own mother. "Are you ok, Mulan?" Ling repeated a touch louder.
Ling gesticulated wildly and finally managed to break her brooding.
"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, almost curtly.
"You don't sound fine at all," Ling disagreed, looking at the now-cold dumpling in his palm.
Despite feeling tired and famished, Mulan's appetite was destroyed. The bitter nostalgia of her departed mother lingered around her. Finally, after a beat of silence making sure her composure stayed intact, she spoke up. "My mother just passed away. I attended her funeral a few weeks ago," she breathed ruefully.
"Oh, I am sorry. But… still, it doesn't explain why you are here, dressed in your father's gear."
"My father can no longer fight. Letting him go would be like sending him to his grave. My brother just lost his mother, I can't allow him to lose his father as well," Mulan sighed resignedly; imagining her father, who had no intention of resting with his past heroics, would be furious once he unravelled her ploy.
The room fell into profound silence. Mulan could sense her friends' ambivalence towards her, a combination of admiration and apprehension.
"I know you always protected me when I was bullied, Mulan. But war is not a game. And it's a dangerous place for a man, let alone a woman."
Ling's gentle but astute remark touched a raw nerve. Mulan wanted to shout at him. Thankfully, she managed to withhold her emotions and settled with an exasperated sigh. Ling would never mean to insult her purposefully. Why couldn't she do what she wanted just because she was born with the wrong sex?
"I never said it was a game," she countered wryly, masking her sour expression.
"No, that's not what I meant… Look, you are a woman. If some of the army officers find out who you are, regardless of your excuse, they'll have you executed for misconduct!"
The prospect of execution was enough to kill the strange exhilaration that filled her chest just days before. Ling was right; she would never be as free as a man. The reality was much more dreadful than she imagined it would be.
"I am aware of that. But I had to try. I can't let my father die... and my husband refused to… ―"
"Wait! You...you are married?" Ling nearly lost his grip on the big pork bun in his hand.
"Ling!" Mulan reprimanded her friend's unwarranted shock. "Are you expecting me to be a spinster?!"
The lanky man snickered, nudging Chien-Po with his elbow in fun. "You should see how she beat those boys in my village. She was ruthless! I am surprised there is still a man who dared to share a bed with her," he whispered loudly. "Speaking of which… when was your wedding?"
Mulan mentally kicked herself for opening the door to a conversation about Shang.
"Couple of months ago, it was a family affair, I'm sorry I couldn't invite you," Mulan tried to give a close-ended answer.
Ling waved his hand.
"And how about you, Chien-Po, have you got the date fixed yet?" Mulan attempted to switch the topic, thankfully the man in question didn't seem to mind the detour.
Chien-Po rubbed his rotund belly as though it would help him think. "Hopefully after the war."
"What if the war lasts a decade? Would Su wait for you that long?"
"She said so," Chien-Po shrugged as he answered Ling's question. "She would much rather stay single than marry another man."
"D'aww... No wonder you look like a lovesick bear. Tell her she is very lucky, there are not many men who will cook for their wives," Ling commented, elbowing Chien-Po on his ribs.
"You can cook?" Mulan turned to Chien-Po. It was considered a rare sight for men to step into the kitchen, let alone cook.
"Uhm….." the guy rubbed his side while trying to consider his reply. His profession as a chef wasn't exactly his favourite topic of conversation. Not because he wasn't proud of what he did, but because any discussion of it invariably seemed to invite a slew of snide remarks about his unhealthy obsession with food. It was naive to hope that Mulan hadn't concluded that from his unusually large stature, although, what was the point of hiding the truth?
"I am a chef," he admitted. To his surprise, Mulan said nothing more than an impressed stare. "So, I've tailored the menu for my wedding myself." Never mind even when he didn't know when would it happen (or would it ever happen), the feverish anticipation was enough to spur Chien-Po to go overboard and penned down all his most notable recipes and favourite dishes that his wedding guest would savour.
"I bet you look forward to things after the wedding," Ling butted in. A suggestive smile twitched his lips.
Chien-Po visibly flushed at that. "Hmm…. I look forward to all sorts of things… " he retorted shyly.
Mulan rolled her eyes to another dimension.
"Would you mind if…. If I ask for some household tips in the future?" Chien-Po turned to Mulan. "I want Su not just to be happy, but also comfortable. It won't be easy to leave her childhood home to live in an unfamiliar house with a man."
Mulan thought his gesture was rather sweet. "Of course!"
"Thank you."
"So…" Ling bounced his questioning stare at Mulan. "I need to know this. Who is the lucky guy?" he asked, leaning closer to Mulan and batting his eyes expectantly. Mulan mentally berated Ling's unyielding spirit. Why was he so insistent on finding out, anyway?
"You don't know him. He's not from the village. His father and mine used to serve the Emperor together," she replied, hoping this time Ling would stop pestering her over her husband's identity.
"Oh… bet he must be of… good lineage."
Mulan snickered a little at the qualities Ling attached to her husband's persona. Yes, perhaps he wanted to marry me and chain me to the stove.
"Isn't your husband aware of what you're doing?" Chien Po raised his concern.
"No."
"What if he finds out?" he asked again.
Shang was a trained soldier, part of the elite group. She was positive that he won't be in the same league.
"Don't worry," Mulan said confidently. "He won't."
The next morning, Mulan and her two friends set off for the next stretch of the journey. But before they went any further out of the town, Mulan went to hire a messenger to send her letters.
"One for my mother-in-law, my father and the last for my husband," she explained, responding to her friends' curious gazes as they settled in for their breakfast stop.
"Such a shame you're married, Mulan…"
"Yes, perhaps," Mulan responded, faking a voice of disinterest.
"...because there is a rumour," Ling began, rubbing both of his hands together expectantly as he whispered. "The son of one of the army's generals is going to train us. I've heard he is a very handsome young man, roughly our age. I think his family name is Li."
Mulan's blood froze, but she dismissed her unreasonable alarm instantly. There were plenty enough men around with the surname Li; surely it could mean anyone.
"Oh, I know him!" Chien-Po butted in. "I heard he gained the moniker 'Pretty Boy' due to his dashing good looks and hot physique."
Mulan swallowed a rock that seemed to have lodged itself in her throat….or maybe her heart? She couldn't tell the difference, but somewhere deep in her mind, she was almost sure it was Shang. Except of course if there were some other Greek gods joining the encampment. She couldn't help imagining Shang with his magnificent raven mane, captivating eyes, angular jaw and sharp, well-defined brow, he was the perfect depiction of a knight in shining armour out of fabled legend. Despite her best effort to curb her thoughts away from her husband, the memory of him holding her on their bed, his body curling to surround hers, kept on returning like a plaguing disease.
"I bet he is brutal," she heard Chien-Po say while inhaling his breakfast in one go. "All army officers are horrible! I hear they're all slave drivers and only interested in those promiscuous women in the bars." Mulan tried to conceal all her emotions and appear as stoic as possible.
"No, this guy isn't!" Ling disagreed, absently pouring tea for his friends before pouring a cup for himself. "My father was in the same regiment a few years ago, and he wasn't even interested in going to the brothels!"
"Perhaps he doesn't like women?" Chien-Po quipped.
Mulan nearly died on the spot choking on her tea.
The lanky man couldn't restrain his teasing smile as he continued to deliver rice into his mouth. What was better than salacious gossip about their future captain? "No. Well… I don't think so. I heard he just got married recently and had since become exceptionally ruthless in his training!" clarified Ling. Mulan began to wonder where her friend had received this 'distribution' of practically sacrilegious gossip.
"Perhaps his wife annoyed him," Chien-Po mentioned nonchalantly, snickering into his bowl of noodles.
Mulan nearly spat her tea the second time. "What?" she exclaimed a notch too loud. The hulking giant cowered and wished he could hide behind the tiny piece of ceramic in his hands.
"Mulan? Are you okay?" Ling's puzzled stare was enough to bring Mulan's mind back into the realm of reality. Hell, she was even assuming this mysterious guy named Li would be the same person as the one that seduced her in bed.
"I… I'm sorry," she fumbled. "I am just… ―"
"We don't mean to insult you. I bet you are different from any other wife, and that is a compliment," Ling interjected, presenting a sincere smile.
How would you know...? said the voice in Mulan's head mournfully. Regardless of her acknowledgement of her loveless marriage, she sincerely hoped her friends' hypothetical scenarios and speculations were far from the truth; that her husband didn't see her as a waspish, unpleasant woman he would have to share the rest of his life with.
"Thanks, Ling," Mulan paid a faint smile, only daring to meet her friend's eyes fleetingly. She knew she could fool the world, but she could never fool her heart.
The next day, after journeying nearly half a day with no rest, the sight of large makeshift tents emerged on the edge of the horizon. A few war ensign and red banners advertised their presence.
"Here we are," Ling huffed. "There is no turning back now."
"I am actually worried," admitted Chien-Po, fiddling his fingers sheepishly. "I heard, during the war, soldiers are on strict food ration." He grimaced as though even the thought of such drastic measures could cause him physical pain. Ling could only shake his head.
"I thought you were going to say you were worried about getting killed," Mulan muttered with nonchalance in response to Chien-Po's dietary dilemma.
Chien-Po looked mildly offended but mostly sad.
"No, I mean… surely, a robust guy like you won't fall as easy prey on the battlefield. Perhaps you'll end up with some scars! Big manly scars! My father said they might help you impress a girl," Mulan revised, hoping her previous unapologetic rambling would be written off soon enough.
"That's true!" Ling piped up excitedly. "Think about Su, the girl worth fighting for. Besides, we may return all lean and muscular! Like that hot Captain," Ling gestured his hands up and down his thin frame, subsequently bringing his arms up and flexing his non-existent biceps, showcasing the idea of the burly figure he was becoming.
Spurred by the cheerful thought and promising future, Chien-Po grinned brightly. "You are right!" he chirped, enthusiasm returning to his stride.
Lucky you, Mulan watched the two men giggling and exchanging banter with euphoric thrill, imagining the risky wager of their life had paid off. At least both of them had a future waiting at home for them after the war, while she had to return to her life of imprisonment: living under the subjugation of her mother-in-law and husband.
But….what if she returned with visible scars or debilitating injuries like her father? Inadvertently, Li Yue's disgusted face and Shang's infuriated rebuke transpired in her mind. However, what hurt her the most was imagining her father's disappointment. It would kill her if someone unravelled her impersonation and dishonoured her family name forever.
Perhaps death is a better option.
Be optimistic, Mulan. You are not even on the battlefront yet! She chided herself. You can do this, train to be a man and a soldier and bring honour to the Fa and Li family! Mulan sighed pensively realizing the risk of the gamble she took. It would be a steep learning curve, but she had purposed in her heart that she wouldn't say anything was impossible before trying it.
"I think I need some tips on how to be a proper man," Mulan said under her breath, halting Ling and Chien-Po's chatter.
"You have to deepen your voice," advised Ling, pacing beside her.
"Like this?" Mulan offered a lower falsetto. Ling laughed but nodded approvingly. "Not too low, you sounded like a man who ate too much Sichuan chicken the day before."
"And don't walk with a gait. No…..no….don't swing your hips," counselled Chien-Po, looking pointedly at Mulan's effeminate movements. "Think about marching, straight legs, straight back. Ugh, that's a bit too much, you look like you have constipation. Just relax a little, loosen your knees. Now, that's right…. Very good," he congratulated and clapped encouragingly.
"Don't forget to spit," Ling added. To accentuate his point, he sucked his breath and spat into the nearby river. "See that?"
Mulan's eyes widened, both from incredulity and repulsion. The imagination of Shang doing just that all over the house wasn't particularly an attractive fantasy to have.
"You need to yawn louder…. Speak with confidence….and forget whatever your mother ever told you about table manners," he said, moving forward and joining the long registration queue. "Just imagine you live in a barn! No rules!"
"Let me rephrase again," Mulan surmised. "If I want to be a real man, I have to expectorate at random occasions, laugh, eat and yawn loudly and punch anyone that oversteps my territory?"
"Exactly! I know you are a fast learner!" praised Ling.
"But, what about…. the toilet business?" asked Chien-Po innocently.
"What about it?" Ling eyed him with confusion. The brawny man stood up and demonstrated by pretending to undo his trousers and stood facing a nearby bush.
"Oh, that!" Ling rubbed his chin as though thinking hard. Two months ago, Mulan would have fallen into a giggling fit if anyone said she would be embroiled in an in-depth lavatory discussion with two men.
"It's hard to learn how to do that without owning a proper organ…"
"Not to mention that men in the army bathe together," quipped Chien-Po.
"Do they?" Mulan winced at that.
"Yes, but I take it since you are married, You've seen what men's hind look like," Ling countered plainly.
"That doesn't mean I would like to see other men's hind!" Mulan snarled, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.
"I'm afraid you don't have much choice," stated Chien-Po.
The three of them talked as they joined the queue. After standing and moving at a pace close to a snail, they arrived in front of a long desk, where a few fully-armed soldiers handed over their rudimentary supplies, armament and a bag of bathing equipment.
"Fa Ping?" called the raspy, high-pitched voice that reminded Mulan of the noodle stall owner in her neighbourhood.
A judgemental stare greeted her. Chi Fu was his name, a scrawny-looking old man with a sinister moustache, crooked teeth and a frown that appeared to be tattooed on his face. She sincerely prayed this man wasn't one of the leaders of the battalion. If Mulan had wished for an awe-inspiring leader or bold-looking warrior, this guy was neither of them.
"Yes, that's me, Sir," Mulan firmly stepped forward and presented the forged birth certificate and her father's summons letter.
The man stuck his nose on the conscription, then he lifted his head and observed her closely, trying to draw correlations between Fa Zhou's imposing image and the young man's rather feminine features.
Mulan was right to have a sinking feeling about the man. Chi Fu didn't have an exactly pleasant reputation among the trainees. The air was palpable with dread as the man narrowed his eyes and scoffed incredulously when he appraised Mulan's less-than-stellar figure for a warrior, let alone that she claimed to be the son of the Honorable war strategist, Fa Zhou.
"Has your father ever trained you?" he inquired without looking up, his hand busy scribbling something on his notes.
"Sword fighting, Sir," replied Mulan truthfully.
"Has he taken you into any battle before?" prodded the old man.
"No, Sir." Mulan tried to sound firm.
"No wonder," Chi-Fu sneered snidely.
Despite the colourful words that began to form in her head, Mulan tried to remain polite. She didn't want to be expelled from the regiment for misconduct just yet.
"But not to worry, Captain Li will train everyone in this battalion. He'll make a man out of you," the scrawny man made a wry chuckle.
"Cap... Captain Li?" she repeated in disbelief. Ok, after Ling's precious intel, she saw the prospect of three of them serving the same battalion. That's good news. But potentially having Shang as the man who trained her? That's obituary.
"Yes, Captain Li Shang," Chi-Fu narrowed his eyes. "You know him?"
Mulan's heart stopped for a second. She didn't know whether to feel apprehensive or happy at the prospect of meeting Shang―fate be damned; apparently, it was much harder to escape from him than she thought it would be. Thankfully, Mulan didn't have the luxury of meditative contemplation over petty things like that. "Soldier Ping! I can't wait for your answer until the next century!" A rude, nasally yell broke her reverie.
"Ugh...uhm―" Mulan sobered, regretting that she had spoken her thought aloud. "No, Sir. I don't know him much Sir," she replied with a brisk shaking of her head.
The old, crotchety advisor looked unconvinced. "Really? I heard that he is your brother-in-law."
Gods, Mulan mentally facepalmed herself. How could she forget? Spending time with Ling and Chien-Po had evidently caused Mulan to let her guard down. And this Chi-Fu guy was a lot more perceptive than the average ignorant, foul-smelling soldiers that she had met so far. Mulan had to make sure she edited her cover story logically.
"Yes, but we met very briefly, Sir. My sister's wedding was done in a hurry," she finally said, being careful to tell the truth, or at least as much of the truth as she was willing to divulge.
The creases on Chi-Fu's forehead deepened and his lips twisted into a distasteful scowl, but after a beat, he decided not to press the matter further. "Dismissed!" he ordered Mulan grumpily.
Joining Chien-Po and Ling, Mulan strode across the clearing towards a series of dull-coloured structures.
"Tent number fifteen," Ling read from his scroll. "This is ours," he announced, inviting his friends to join him inside.
The large tent was packed to the rafters with boisterous, sweaty men. Even with her hand covering her nose, she could do little to curb the stench of masculine musk intermingled with the scent of cheap alcohol. Mulan wrinkled her nose, thinking of how she had to share this tent for an unforeseeable amount of the future. The men didn't pay any attention to their arrival. Their concentration was absorbed by a curious spectacle occurring in one corner of the tent.
"I picked that spot first!" came the incensed voice of a man. He was short but stocky. The muscles of his arms rippled as he clenched his fists. In front of him, his opponent was a soldier twice as tall as he was, his muscular form wrapped in a protective shield that was literally shining under the rays of the sun, free from scratch and dents. Mulan could tell the man's armour had never seen the light of a battle yet. But her attention was drawn by a large crest of the emperor resting on the man's shoulder.
"Shut up!" the larger man demanded, looking very much affronted. He drove his fist to the table with so much power that the piece of furniture crumbled under his strength. "How dare you challenge me like that?!"
The stocky man's nose flared and his chest heaved, looking just as infuriated. "Just because you are nobility doesn't mean you can treat other people like dirt!" he spat with vehemence. The watching onlookers let out a synchronous gasp at the man's audacity.
"You just arrived today, and I've been here for a week!" he fumed indignantly, finger pointing to the exact point where his bedding was―currently dishevelled and soiled with dirt―perhaps a result of the other's man dirty mischief.
Instead of trying to appease both conflicting parties, the crowd gave the men noises of encouragement, fueling them to fight. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"Is this what men normally do?" whispered Mulan, curiously watching the growing tension.
"Pretty much," Ling equated her whisper. "The curse of territorial creatures."
"That handsome jerk is the bully," Mulan remarked, brows slanted in annoyance, observing the unbalanced battle of dominion.
"Don't you recognize who he is?" came Ling's worried voice.
"No," Mulan mouthed uncaringly, her concentration devoted to the intense exchange in front of her.
"Prince of Wei… he is the Emperor's nephew! The third man on the throne!" Ling emphasized, hoping to give Mulan some logical explanation to stop whatever plan was currently brimming in her mind. But it was too late. The petite Ping had marched to the battlefront.
"Mu… ―Ping! Wait!" But Ling's frantic warning only fell on deaf ears as Mulan made a beeline into the core of the commotion.
"Is this how a respectable man behaves?" Mulan began, looking at the handsome young man with dark eyes and broad shoulders who currently gripped the much shorter man by his collar.
The prince's eyes collided with hers. For a moment his mouth fell open… and close, his hardened expression evaporated… and transformed into satirical laughter. The prince's reaction elicited a sudden fit of hysterics from his gang, and Mulan began to realize almost the entire encampment had drawn to watch.
"Well...well….a newcomer wants to get a spotlight," the Prince smiled with an amused expression, abandoning his grasp on his victim's collar. He clearly wasn't expecting a threat coming from someone that looked to be half of his stature.
"Who are you?" The prince scoffed in disdain as he scanned Mulan's petite frame.
"Is that relevant?" Mulan objected, hands flying to her hips showing her aversion. In the back row, Ling and Chien-Po cringed upon witnessing Mulan's hostile, yet unmanly, gesture. It didn't spell out provocation in the dictionary of a soldier who was trying to challenge his opponent, more like a mother scolding her child.
"Of course, if you knew who I am… you would be speaking to me with fear and respect," the Prince said relatively calmly. The room fell silent as though putting the Prince on his rightful pedestal, paying him the reverence he demanded.
"I have no respect for people who dare to bully someone smaller than them," Mulan argued.
"Are you with this hopeless loser?" The young prince darted a derogatory glance at Yao and let out a disgusted scoff. "You need another weakling to defend you, how pathetic," he continued his verbal assault, pacing around Mulan like a predator stalking its prey. He smirked when he realized the watching crowd was beginning to take sides."I shall give you one more chance. Who are you?"
Mulan shot the prince a withering look, before replying firmly. "Fa Ping, my father is a retired strategist, working for the Son of Heaven." Her answer stirred the crowd and evoked more incoherent murmurs.
"Oh, dropping names are we?"
The growing ruckus eventually invited more interlopers than they intended to, because not long after that a snivelling, nasally shout from Chi-Fu was heard. "What's going on here?"
His query was immediately reciprocated by a collective groan.
"This scumbag stole the Prince's spot!" claimed one burly guy with a large scar on his neck, Mulan speculated that he must be one of the prince's lackey.
The scumbag, apparently a guy named Yao, snickered furiously as the gang retreated to give Chi-Fu the central stage. Mulan glared at the prince's accomplice, how could he lie so blatantly in front of so many witnesses? To her surprise, even Yao shut his mouth not daring to verbalize any advocation.
"And this Ping guy was admonishing the Prince rudely!" bristled another. Mulan's restrained emotions were unexpectedly riled.
"What?!" she raised her voice, incredulous and affronted. "I wasn't rude! I was.. ―"
"You shouted and were disrespectful!" rebuked one of the onlookers.
"That's because he won't listen!" Mulan shot back, refuting his claim in her attempt to defend her and Yao's position, but Chi-Fu took no notice, turning to the Prince instead.
"Your Highness?" Chi-Fu addressed, flashing his sceptic glare towards Mulan, as though saying 'Credibility, you have not. Pick your enemy wisely, you fool!' before returning to the young nobility. "Is this true?" he consulted.
The prince remained mute, but his expression betrayed whatever was crossing through his mind. The prince was certainly pleased with Chi-Fu's mutual disdain against the regiment's latest recruit.
Mulan never thought that soldiers were capable of such vicious slander; far more than the idle gossipers one could find among the bored women in her village.
"Don't worry about it, Chi-Fu," the Prince feigned a long-suffering sigh. "I will let it go this once."
"No, that won't do." And with a raise of his finger, the scrawny advisor pointed towards Mulan and Yao. "You two!" commanded Chi-Fu. "Go and clean the horse stalls and then help in the kitchen. No dinner for you two tonight as punishment!"
"You… ―!" Mulan was about to confront the advisor when she felt Ling grasp her forearm tightly, his eyes glinting with fear. It took Mulan considerable willpower to bite back the snide remark that rose to the tip of her tongue.
Satisfied upon delivering his castigation which hopefully disciplined the two rebellious mutts, Chi-Fu stormed out of the tent with much flair and bravado.
"That was close…" Ling breathed in relief. He knew, defying the Prince could well mean his friend was to lose her head even before marching to war. But Mulan seemed to be completely oblivious that the young ruler, despite his wrongdoing and boorishness, was being generous.
"They do say there is a wild animal inside each of us…." Chien-Po responded in a hushed tone, studying the angry Fa Ping from a reasonable distance. The girl in disguise was still glaring and seething at the horde of hulking men following the Prince of Wei, grabbing their bottles and tossing their victorious cheers to the sky.
If only it would stay inside.