With mounting annoyance, Mulan followed Yao exiting their tent. She didn't know where the kitchen was, but she couldn't care less, not with the amount of frustration over the brutish aristocrat who had been nothing but a bully and Chi-Fu's blatant unfairness in handling the situation. The world of men had presented its own unique problem that she hadn't foreseen.
Thankfully, Yao, the soldier in front of her seemed to know his way around the encampment like the back of his hand, even though he was steering autonomously because his mind was preoccupied with the same clouded haze that was bothering her mind.
"You shouldn't have done that," Yao said, breaking the silence. "You've picked the wrong enemy. I won't be able to forgive myself if you lose your head because of me."
Mulan opened her mouth, but after quick consideration, she shut it again. Even when she didn't see Yao's facial expression, Mulan could feel his visceral feeling of resentment still searing hot from the altercation earlier. She wanted to be clear they were on the same side, so she just dipped her head compliantly.
They entered a tent that looked no different from any of the others, but the amount of vegetables, sacks of grain and scattered pots and woks confirmed they were in the right place.
With an exasperated sigh, Yao flicked a brief glance over his shoulder, signalling her to follow him approaching a man who sat in front of a cauldron.
"We are here to help," Yao said shortly, fighting to keep his tone neutral so it wouldn't reflect how vexed he was to end up in the kitchen while his mates probably enjoyed the evening playing mahjong and drinking beer.
The Chef briefly introduced himself as Zhang, a man with hairy arms, thick biceps, a silvery mane and matching beard.
"Great, I can do with a few more hands!" he responded brightly. "Let me see…" He stroked his beard which was plaited into an intricate twist. For a second, Mulan thought he looked more like a Kung Fu master out of her brother's posters than a chef.
"You," he pointed at Yao after appraising his muscular arms. "Yes, you… take those sacks of rice outside where the large pot is. And you…" He flashed a frown after seeing Mulan's slender frame. "Slaughter these chickens for dinner," he commanded, pointing to the cage where a rambunctious clucking sound could be heard.
Mulan wrinkled her nose. An image of blood and gore transpired in her head. So far she had been sheltered and spared from witnessing such horror because her mother or their family maid had done the dirty work. But now, there was no such luxury. She had been demoted to a scullery maid after allegedly defying that arrogant prince.
"I don't like killing," Mulan said off-handedly. Not that she was questioning the morality of killing innocent creatures for the pure enjoyment of it. She clearly liked eating chicken and didn't have any plan of quitting anytime soon―not until this point.
"Well, no one does," the Chef concurred. "But it is necessary," he added, placing a blade on the table and bobbing his head instigating her to start working. But Mulan felt her limbs completely paralysed.
"Don't tell me you are afraid of slaughtering chickens when you are supposed to slaughter men out there in a few weeks time," scoffed Zhang as though he could read her mind.
She was about to retaliate, but thinking about it―the Chef did have a point. She wouldn't be much of a soldier on the battlefield if she didn't even have the heart to kill a few chickens.
"I'll give you a tip," the Chef said, clearly understanding Mulan's detestation. "Do not hesitate. It makes them suffer... less." The advice that was intended to assuage her fears seemed to amplify them.
In desperation, she looked across the room. Yao, although wearing the same thunderous expression, was working laboriously without saying a word. She looked at the chickens that were blissfully pecking a little bit of grain, completely unaware of their impending doom. And here she was, trapped in her own mental limbo, absurdly trying to reconcile her shrinking moral and logical necessity.
Sucking in a sharp breath with a combination of trepidation and helplessness, Mulan commanded her unwilling hand to grab the knife.
This would be her first voluntary kill.
Chef Zhang offered an encouraging smile as they approached the makeshift coop. "Ping, there will always be a first in everything, and I promise you, it'll get easier as time goes by."
Mulan nodded despite her disquiet, marshalling her courage as she wielded the blade. Seemed like she wouldn't be eating chicken for a very long time.
As the last tendrils of sunlight vanish, and the stars appear all around them, the previously quiet clearing was filled with sounds of a hunger driven mob eagerly fighting their way to fill their empty stomachs. Even after distancing himself at the far end of the field, Shao Wei could still hear the boisterous laughter and incompetent singing disturbing the peaceful silence.
Shao seethed when the nasally voice of one of the soldiers pulled a particularly ribald stunt to his ears. In this kind of situation, he abhorred his own resolve that caused him to be stranded in the least bonafide training camp in the country, leaving all his princely comfort behind. But still, his human curiosity urged him to take a glance towards the source of the cacophony.
"And he said to her… do you like sleeping?" He heard one of the recruits suspended dramatically in his narration, lifting his mug and wiping his mouth with his sleeve ungracefully before dropping the punchline. The crowds inched forward expectantly. "Me too. We should do it together sometimes."
A jarring laughter filled the air. Shao could see the narrator's lips curled into a satisfied smirk at the desired reaction.
Shao bristled once again. It wasn't exactly because of the bawdy content of the joke or that he failed to decode the implied meaning of the sordid parody. Back in Chang'an, he and his friends had cracked the same kind of lecherous humour, perhaps even more vulgar than this one considering the absence of Chi-Fu's occasional policing around the vicinity. It was just that the cheerfulness reminded him of the life he had a few months ago before his father… ―Ugh, he berated himself for thinking about it again. He came here to complete his mission, to jeopardise his father's plan and to prove that he was wrong even to dare advocating such a ludicrous proposal.
Another inharmonious rendition followed by a peal of laughter deteriorated his foul mood further. But this was precisely the wrong moment to count his misfortunes. Leaving the comfortable life behind the walls of his palace was his choice―not that he had any alternative after he had openly challenged his father's decision.
He threw his sight far beyond the clearing. His sharp eyes quickly identified a lanky man, grunting and fumbling as he wrestled to lift a heavy cask from the top of the stack to the floor.
Fa Ping, Shao remembered him―the newest recruit who had been a dolt to meddle with him during his argument with Yao. What was he deal? Shao felt his temper flare. The way that petite framed warrior squared his chest like a rooster, effectively taunting him, still vividly permeated his mind. But there was something else about Ping. The way he confronted him, his unyielding spirit, his sharp dark eyes and the spark of animosity declared within their hypnotic depths reminded him of someone―someone he was supposed to forget.
Shaking the irrelevant daze out of his head, Shao turned his attention back to reality. From where he sat, he could see the scrawny Ping wrapping his arms around the length of the barrel, pulling a sharp breath as he marshalled his strength, but despite his best effort, the vessel didn't move an inch.
Although bearing the penalty of his mistake, Ping didn't look resentful. He seemed to be trying to do the task to the best of his ability.
"Oh, poor Ping…" Half inebriated Jing said in feigned pity. "Perhaps you should go home and help your mother lift bowls and wok instead," he added, sinking in his seat enjoying Ping's struggle as a form of entertainment. Ping solemnly disregarded Jing's attempt to ridicule. He was quick to learn that in this kind of setting, weaker men who attracted attention tended to be picked on… a lot.
"Ping, do you hear me?" came Jing's incensed voice. He was indignant that Ping had the guts to ignore him.
Finally, someone with genuine compassion stood and helped the poor boy.
"Here, let me...," announced another man, immediately coming to Ping's rescue.
With minimal to no effort, a rotund man Shao recalled was named Chien-Po hoisted the vessel, and handed it over to Ping. Unfortunately, what could have been a smooth estafet, ended when the heavy load accidentally landed on Ping's toes. The boy let a pain-filled shrill, while Chien-Po apologised profusely for his carelessness. The incongruous warble suddenly stopped before being transformed into a mocking guffaw at Ping's expense.
"I think you need the healer to see whether your foot is broken," Chien-Po winced as he rolled the load off of Ping. "My fault," he said, voice thick with regret.
"Hey, you were just trying to help," Ping replied, smiling faintly. Chien-Po extended his arms to take the load, but Ping prevented him.
"I got this," he said firmly before limping away, rolling the cask with him. The discordant voices resumed right after. Shao glanced towards the far end of the clearing, where the crotchety royal advisor watched the entire exchange unfold. It was clear even Chi-Fu was indulging in the young man's brief time of distress.
The atmosphere returned to normal after Ping retreated to the kitchen to serve dinner. However, as soon as the boy emerged, skilfully balancing a tray with a few wafting bowls, Jing hovered right behind his unsuspecting victim with an air of malice.
"PING!" Jing yelled loudly in Ping's ear. The young man jerked and staggered backwards, spilling the contents of his tray all over his comrades.
"Oy!" A man with a large tattoo hollered before pulling the hapless Ping by his collar precariously. He went on to point furiously at his wet lap. "It's only fair if you share the humiliation," he announced, his features contorted with rage. The congregation stifled a loud gasp.
"I… I didn't mean to..," Ping confessed. "Someone startled me."
The man scoffed, neglecting Ping's explanation. He grabbed his beer and threw a generous amount in Ping's direction. His disparaging action incited a wave of laughter.
Shao felt the blood rise to his face, watching the assembly howl and hoot at the unfortunate Ping, who at the moment stood in the middle of a puddle of beer. The boy may have landed on his bad side but that didn't mean he would ignore his suffering altogether.
Meanwhile, Ping's assailant grinned appreciatively for the support, raising his now empty mug and indulging in a surge of satisfaction for his quelled vengeance. Where was Chi-Fu when the situation desperately needed his tyrannical reproach to restore order? Shao studied the old counsellor who was sneering quietly, with no intention of getting involved.
In a brief wisp of introspection, Shao decided he had enough integrity and humanity to put his antagonism towards Ping aside and come to his aid. Clear with his mission, Shao cut through the clearing and marched over to the group.
Instantaneously, the soldiers mocking laughter sputtered into an uneasy chuckle when Shao squared his shoulders and raised his hand. "Enough now."
And those two words were sufficient to make that hulking culprit, Jing, shrink on his to him, Chi-Fu muttered some unintelligent curse that Shao suspected was never meant to be said aloud. What a bunch of jabbering idiots.
You still risking to take a bath in the open air like this?" Ling stated his objection. He had grown weary of Mulan's womanly habit of taking a bath twice a day. Losing a head over body hygiene seemed to be an extortionate price to pay.
"I may act like a man, but I refuse to smell like one," Mulan replied, whistling cheerfully as she took her bathing equipment. Ling rolled his eyes at that.
"Don't worry. I'll be vigilant," she promised.
Regardless of some unexpected hurdles these last couple of days, overall, Mulan was quite content as she was, settling nicely into the routine. She was happy with the more challenging duties and welcomed the novelty of freedom in her role as a man. After a string of unfortunate events, she did not need further complications.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to test her.
It was a quiet night, after a hot day working helping Chef Zhang inside the badly ventilated tent which felt more like a broth scented sauna, a well-deserved bath was next on the menu.
However, it was also when the presumptuous prince came strutting out to the exact same spot, sporting his usual silk robe, acting like he owned the place. Which, technically, he kind of did, he was the Prince, the third to the throne after the Emperor himself. But did he have to look so smug and indifferent about it? That night, Mulan was certain the Prince had seen her in the pond's vicinity, but he pretended to be oblivious, nonchalantly stripping himself naked before plunging into the water.
After their odd first encounter―with him being bossy and intentionally pretentious in expressing his opinion―Mulan never wished to make any voluntary acquaintances with the haughty prince. But now, he seemed to be intentionally resurfacing everywhere she went, even showing her a rare kindness by defending her against the brute―Jing, a few nights before.
Mulan swallowed deeply, watching the Prince's toned back ripple as he swam across the pond. He reminded her of Shang. Mulan immediately slapped herself in an attempt to shove off the inappropriate fantasy. She quickly picked another hidden spot behind a large tree, singing some tune to keep her head safely occupied.
After finishing his bath and covering himself with a comfortable night robe, Shao Wei prepared to leave. But his ears were taunted by an effeminate singing from the far end of the pond. He only remembered seeing a glimpse of Fa Ping before he dove into the water. Could that lanky soldier have enough guts to smuggle a woman into camp? Shao nearly burst out laughing at that thought, but there was only one way to find out.
Along the marshy edge, Shao saw Ping step into particularly long-standing reeds to create the illusion of privacy as the boy undressed. He let out a blissful sigh―very untypical of a man, as the cool, calming water of the pond wrapped around his figure to his neck. Shao prowled closer and peeked through the reeds into the location where Ping had left his personal possessions. His eyes widened when he saw a strange object lying there.
A chest binding.
Is he into cross-dressing or something ?
He glanced and Ping wash his body in no way any other man did. It suddenly hit him. Ping is a...
No. It can't be. Shao silenced the uncertain speculation. He was aware of the protocol and the implications if Ping's real identity was revealed.
Suddenly, everyone's mortal enemy entered the pond.
Chi-Fu.
Just about the last man who could handle this kind of information with fairness and justice.
"Hi...er, Sir." Ping stammered, clearly caught off-guard. Subsequently, Shao lowered himself down behind the dense shrubbery, inching closer to eavesdrop on the exchange.
"I...I didn't know you took a bath at...at this time too," Ping stuttered as he slowly backed away.
"Is there anything wrong with that?" Unfortunately, that sneaky advisor roamed closer.
"Oh… no, no," Ping waved his hand casually. "Of course not!" and deftly camouflaged himself behind a lily pad―that was a wrong move, because not only was his skin not green, it almost implied he was trying to conceal something behind the leaves. If Shao's speculation was true; that Ping was a woman in disguise―that evil counsellor would be the first person that insisted on putting the blade to Ping's neck.
Sensing the danger, Shao swiftly thought of a plausible distraction. He glanced to the set of arrows and bow that he habitually carried everywhere, a measure of precaution―as his defence teacher taught him. With impeccable accuracy, he aimed his arrow towards the tree stump closest to the pond, just so it was visible by all the parties to deliver a false warning of impending attack.
"Intruders!" Shao alerted. Run!"
It was not a lie, technically, since he was the intruder, but it made for an effective deterrent. Obviously, the coward Chi-Fu didn't spare any second thoughts for Fa Ping and immediately fled the scene. Ping only emerged when he was sure there was no one around.
And he saw it, even though he was aware that what he was doing was the furthest from honourable thing a man could do, more so for a prince, he had confirmed his suspicion.
Fa Ping was a woman.
Why did he have to know this? He berated himself for his on curiosity. He was already embroiled in a far more dangerous deception between the Huns and his father, and now this?
Shao groaned into his palms, feeling unexplainable fatigue swallowing his strength. He plopped himself down by the bank, trying to console his discombobulated mind. It seemed like fate continually challenged him to defy the norms and orders all over again. Ping was truly nobody to him―why he had to go against the rules and risk everything, even his credibility, for a reason not very clear even to him?
Of course, Shao could opt to report his finding, but he was sure Ping had a strong reason to risk her life and masquerade herself as a man. What was her agenda? Was she sent by his father to spy on him and to find out his deceitful plan? Shao shuddered at the thought. But why would his father send a woman, more so, one that could hardly fend for herself?
His head ached so much from thinking that he thought it would burst.
"Chi-Fu," Shao beckoned the royal counsellor who sat behind his bureau, a stash of the paper mounting in slight disarray across its surface."I need a little assistance from you."
"Always ready at your disposal, Your Highness," Chi-Fu replied politely, abandoning his work.
"Good," Shao forged a smile of gratitude. "What do you know about Fa Ping?"
Chi-Fu's brows drew together. Why would the Prince be interested in that troublemaker? But Chi-Fu was a lot smarter than to question the Prince's demand. Clearing his throat, he pulled a bunch of scrolls, running through the list before reading them out loud.
"He is Fa Zhou's fourteen years old son, apparently here to take the place of his father." Chi-Fu handed him the copy of Fa Zhou's conscription. Shao studied the scroll but found nothing of a conspicuous trace of oddities.
"Anything wrong, Your Highness?" Chi-Fu prodded as a preemptive measure. Shao shook his head at that.
"Any other family connection you know?" he inquired further, placing the summon letter back into the canister.
"He has one sister, Fa Mulan, who married to the captain of this regiment, Li Shang."
Interesting, Shao mused. Although the conundrum was far than resolved, Shao's intuition had hypothesised the fact laid in front of him was of great importance.
"Chi-Fu, hand me all Fa Ping's daily schedule to the hourly detail," he commanded.
Chi-Fu bowed obediently. "Yes, Your Honour."
Mulan's first-week foray into the life of a man ensued with a lot of perilous hurdles. Thankfully her second week was relatively uneventful, mostly because she was consciously trying to distance herself from a certain clique that she felt frequently demeaned her and picked on her weaknesses.
To begin with, most of the men in her regiment were nothing like anything she had imagined―boldly poised soldiers with undefeatable fighting prowess like her father or General Li. In contrast, they looked more like clueless mobs in tin foil rather than warriors in battle armour.
However, after taking more serious consideration, she knew she shouldn't be surprised. The recruit consisted of many people indiscriminately selected regardless of their ability or strength. There were many different facades that she had seen, from an intimidating figure of a burly man whose semblance looked like a member of gangster, farmer, cooks, to a small, dirty-looking street urchin that appeared too weak and malnourished to even stand up.
With the absence of their appointed trainer, the male populace spent most of their time gathered in their own little cliques, playing Mahjong, gambling, getting drunk, laughing at dirty jokes or waiting for Chi-Fu's high-pitched tenor to bark some random order at them. She cringed every time she was reminded that if she wanted to be successful in her mission and put on a convincing ploy, she needed to act like one of them.
But her curiosity at the moment was orbiting around the mysterious Prince of Wei. Initially, Mulan speculated that a bunch of imposing men who were often found ganged around the Prince must have been his henchmen. However, as days passed, it was clear the Prince had practically no one you could call a friend. Those who were parading around him merely wanted to get on his good side, wishing in due time that they would reap a benefit of some sort.
According to Mulan's critical observation―The Prince, who everyone addressed as Prince Shao Wei, always distanced himself from the rest. He seemed to prefer to be isolated, detaching himself from any involvement in any social activity and discouraging any form of camaraderie. Mulan saw him every morning, running through his training routine with his sword, showcasing his fluid Kung Fu moves or sitting in silent meditation. Regardless of having arrived in the encampment weeks before, Prince Shao Wei remained an elusive, enigmatic creature to the rest of the regiment….and this in itself piqued Mulan's inquisitive mind - especially after Prince Shao Wei unexpectedly came to her rescue. Perhaps… there was more to him than just the haughty, presumptuous noble that she saw on her first day.
"Thinking about that conceited prince again?" Ling's voice broke her stupor.
"No," Mulan responded blandly, even when her friends clearly knew otherwise.
Ling chuckled. "If you were an actor, I'd say I want my money back. That was hardly a convincing act."
Mulan had the right to despise him after the incident precipitated days before. But something else strummed her heart at the sight of the Prince, sitting, having his lonely meal near a makeshift fire a distance away from them.
"It's odd that a prince would agree to join a regime like ours," Mulan stated between bites.
"You mean because we are…. pathetic?" Ling remarked bluntly lacking a more polite word.
"No. Perhaps we are hopeless… no, maybe...ehm― weak?" Chien-Po voiced his opinion while stirring the contents of the bowl in his hands.
"Have any of you seen him training in the morning?" Mulan looked at her two friends.
"Yes, his fighting technique is impeccable, executed with grace and precision. His sword skills are some of the best I've seen in centuries!"
Chien-Po cackled at that."...And you are not even that old."
"C'mon guys. He is the Prince...a royal. Obviously, he has access to the best, most renowned teachers in China to train him," Ling quipped, outlining his logic.
"Yes, I know," Mulan intervened, a little bit impatient that her friends were completely missing the point. "But why did an excellent fighter like him join a low-class regime like ours? Why not the elite Imperial Army? Or the exclusive Emperor Crusade? He has the skill to meet their criteria and all the necessary connections to get in."
Chien-Po halted his ravenous chewing, twisting his bushy brows. "Are you implying… that the Prince is here for...other purposes?"
"Oh geez, this is how gossip starts," Ling whined, forging a disgusted frown.
"I thought gossip is your middle name," Mulan said smugly.
Ling fabricated an irritated scowl but entertained the banter. "But, after hearing his exceptional testimony, you are looking forward to seeing our sexy captain, right?"
Mulan let out a deep sigh and answered in as roundabout way as she could to mislead her friend's suspicions of her husband's mysterious persona. "What for? I am already married, it's too late to imagine such things."
"Not that I encourage disloyalty, but it's better late than never." Ling pulled an impish smile.
"And how should I explain that to my estranged husband?" Mulan challenged.
"Woah… wait, you don't love him?" Chien-Po gasped, looking perfectly horrified. In his ideal world, romance would be the fundamental basis for any matrimonial coalition, a basic foundation―even in an arranged one.
"Sorry to break your perfect dream. But the reality isn't always as sweet as you wish," Mulan said.
Chien-Po shook his head. "Pardon my melodramatic reaction, but why is he not your type of somethin'?"
Mulan just shrugged. "I don't have time to think about men. Every woman must marry regardless of who they fancy."
"Well perhaps he died in the war, and you'll be his widow," piped Ling. "It is something called a second chance."
"That's a reassuring thought, Ling, thanks," Mulan deadpanned.
He grinned, but his smile dissolved instantaneously. "In all seriousness, even when your interest is solely platonic, I promise I won't say anything to your husband about the Captain." Then he made an animated movement crossing his heart as a pledge of adherence, his face dead serious. It took all of Mulan's self-control not to burst out laughing, imagining Ling's reaction if he knew the captain and her husband they had allegedly plotted to cheat on were actually the same person.
"Why not one of these days, you try to strike up a conversation with the Prince and ask why he's stranded here?" Chien-Po suggested, steering back to the original topic.
"Why me?"
"The Prince certainly has his eyes on you. He wouldn't have noticed Jing was picking on you if he had not been observing you."
One accidental stumbling into the same team of seven (that's among hundreds) doing the morning exercise was an easy coincidence for her to accept. But a second and third time? How had he even found out her exact daily routine to the meticulous detail that he knew the exact timing when she normally took a bath? Plain creepy! Mulan suspected Chi-Fu was responsible for sending this man straight into her lap...metaphorically speaking, of course. Perhaps the scrawny advisor suspected who she really was and sent the Prince to secretly spy on her?
Truthfully, despite her curiosity of the Prince's motive, Mulan knew, the more she interacted with individuals outside her usual two confidants, the greater her chances of accidentally showing signs that she wasn't truly a man.
"I don't think it's a good idea," Mulan sucked in air and exhaled slowly, she had a bad premonition about all this.
"Well, among the three of us, you are the one most eloquent with words," Chien-Po said. "Besides, he looks lonely. A friend will do him good." They glanced towards the clearing, finding the Prince still sat there in solace, gazing an empty stare towards the sky. Mulan considered her options.
"Which begs another question," Ling interjected. "Why has Prince Shao Wei been watching you?"