That evening, as usual, Shao sat in his usual spot, eating his lonely meal. Normally, he would welcome solitude―a much-preferred option rather than sitting with the bunch of noisy idiots across the clearing. But today, his appetite was cruelly murdered minutes ago when he found a secret message left for him inside his tent.
He stared morosely into the fire; the message was still embedded in his mind.
Shao, we need to talk. I fear that someone knew our plan. Meet me, the northern border of Wei, by the river before sundown. Fate be damned, if someone apprehends us and kills us both, this shall be our honourable death ― ALS
Shao groaned into his palm, shaking his head. How could he make the right choice when there wasn't one?
Darn it! How could they know? Has Father been spying on me? He grabbed the bottle next to him in haste, tipping the content ardently down his throat and enjoying the sudden burning sensation that momentarily overrode his anxiety.
His inner tirade was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Hi," said the soft query from his back. Shao knew there was only one man… well, woman, with that falsely masculine undertone embedded in her voice.
"Drinking alone ?" Ping merely stated what was obvious.
Putting his bottle aside, Shao glanced up briefly, before rolling his eyes and returning to his drink.
"May I join?"
He sniggered softly, which indicated he wasn't in the mood to have a friendly conversation―If Ping ever thought he was friendly.
Shao Wei didn't reply. He just glared briefly in her direction.
Ping shot him a reluctant smile that he supposed was meant to be a sympathetic greeting.
"What do you want?" he said curtly.
"Er…" Ping was visibly buffeted by the response but seemed to tolerate his insolent treatment, only pulling in a sharp breath and exhaling it slowly. "Nothing. I see you eating or drinking alone every night, I thought I may… ―"
With an arched brow, Shao merely responded with a rather blunt, "I don't want your pity."
"It's not pity!" she exclaimed but quickly realized the sharpness of her voice. "Have you always been… a jerk like this?"
Shao couldn't resist laughing at the words she used. "Jerk? Do you know that you could lose your head calling me that?"
"I know."
"Then what is it?" he demanded, inching closer until he could feel Ping's warm breath. "What do you want?"
"Does everyone who approaches you must have 'wants' ?" she reprobated, pushing him away from her personal space.
"Yes, sort of," Shao sniggered smugly at her disdainful look. "Now," he said in a serious voice. "...state your business before I lose my patience and order Chi-Fu to have you hang from that tree."
Ping's risen eyebrows now drew down into a frustrated scowl. "Listen…" she said, trying to sound patient even when the heat inside her head was visibly rising. "I only want to invite you to sit and have dinner with us."
He snorted, "I hardly know you. And seeing how you acted on the first day we met, how can I be sure you won't poison me or something?"
Her eyes dilated. She took a few calming breaths before continuing, "I see you train every morning. I am sure you are a great fighter, much more experienced than any of us."
Shao scoffed at her impertinence. "Sweet talk doesn't normally work with me."
"So I figure," she deadpanned. "If you think I am one of those sycophant men who wanted to gain your favour, then you are dead wrong, Mister! I would've done that since day one."
"So stop wasting my time and tell me what you want?" Shao snapped.
The girl gritted her teeth to channel her annoyance before muttering a sharp. "Don't you get it? There is strength in unity. You are one of us!"
Shao knew where Ping would drive her argument. One of his mentors in Chang'an, an accomplished general, had told him how a battalion bound by the ties of comradeship and trust fought much harder than one bound by professionalism―in which each soldier merely fought for themselves and not for the common victory.
Without so much a glance, he answered in a bored tone, "So what? I am not part of the team ."
"Then why did you come here? We are here to train to fight together, to function as a single entity against the common enemy, to be part of a team?!"
Shao seethed at that, rising to his feet. "It's none of your business! You are just one incompetent village busybody!"
"What? How dare you!" she shook her head, disbelieving at the mistreatment. "I was only trying to be nice!"
He narrowed his eyes. She said she was just trying to be nice. He couldn't immediately believe what he just heard.
Suddenly he remembered what he learnt the night before and his curiosity peaked. This was his chance to ask her. "Ping..."
But the girl was already gone.
The next morning, a few warriors from Chang'an arrived at the encampment.
Mulan tried to bury whatever apprehension she felt when she saw a familiar black stallion prance its way into the courtyard, causing a cloud of dust to rise in their midst.
With one swift, sure movement, the man dismounted, thudding footfalls advertising his presence. Without further command, the rest of the recruits assembled in a neat line-up.
Mulan stole a glance when she was sure the man wasn't looking, filling the gaps in her memory with his handsome, stern expression that had begun to dissolve into distant memory.
"For the love of dumplings," Chien-Po muttered.
"For the love of dumplings indeed..." Ling's mouth was hanging.
"For a second I wished I can be reborn as a woman..." Chien-Po trailled off. "That excellently executed man bun, that toned biceps...and that rippling abs..." he sighed dreamily.
"Ugh, gag!" Mulan said, pretending to look repulsed.
"You seriously have issues," Ling berated her.
"Or blind," offered Chien-Po.
"He made your crush, Qiang, looked like a crone!"
Mulan rolled her eyes. They clearly hadn't met the real Shang.
The crowd fell silent as their new commander arrived at the clearing.
"Greetings soldiers. I am Captain Li Shang. I am here to train you to be the best warriors in China." His words were laced with conviction, and his charismatic face was filled with concentration as he swept his gaze across his latest recruits. Shang may be one of the youngest captains in the Imperial army; having raised speedily through the ranks; an experienced soldier, and a great warrior.
Mulan prayed that Shang wouldn't recognize her. She was banking on the fact that her feminine face was devoid of makeup and her skin had turned a few shades darker from the prolonged exposure to the sun.
Shang paced in front of them, assessing his latest trainees that, at the moment, looked far from satisfying.
"You will assemble swiftly and silently every morning. Anyone who acts otherwise...will answer to me."
Mulan's heart was trying to punch through her ribcage when their eyes collided. She couldn't deny that the attraction was there. At first, it was all superficial, but that was nothing more than the adolescent crush of a young, naive and inexperienced girl. Obviously, the physical connection that they shared, despite not being based on love, had fueled her feelings into taking root, manifesting and growing into something deeper, something beyond physical attraction. Even when Mulan never openly admitted it with her own lips, her feeling towards him had morphed into something that had intricately become part of her very being…. had she grown to deeply care for him? She didn't want to believe that.
"You are dismissed!"
Mulan quickly tore her gaze away, fixing her sight on the dusty ground. Why would she even think about him? She reprimanded, completely annoyed with herself. She had promised to think of herself as a man, a son and a soldier! But thinking about Shang was something she could not escape, it was as natural as breathing to her. However, it was foolish to brood about something so comparatively meaningless as love and attraction when they were facing the threat of massacre and death.
That evening, Chi-Fu came into Shang's tent for a short briefing. He came in carrying a few notes in his hand, ready to give the full account of the new recruits.
"So they had done nothing these past weeks?"
Chi-Fu grunted, interpreting Shang's statement as a personal attack on his competency. "What do you expect? You should've come weeks earlier! I am the Emperor's counsellor. I am proficient in attending the Emperor's business, not becoming a referee in a brawl among these hopeless idiots!"
Shang took a deep breath. "Apology for my tardiness. My mother-in-law just passed away and I..."
He trailed off when he heard Chi-Fu's displeased snort. "I think you are too young to be a commander."
Shang let a slow breath through his nostril. He knew Chi-Fu was annoying, but this time he was morbidly insufferable! And before he came here he thought his stepmother was terrible!
"That young man," Chi-Fu said as he shot a disapproving glare towards one of their youngest recruits. "He has caused unbelievable havoc since day one. I swear I have never seen anything like it. He might drive me into an early grave," he retorted sourly.
"Fa Ping, is it not?" Shang read out from the list. He read a few detention remarks under the soldier's name just on the first day alone.
"The youngest son of Fa Zhou. Have you placed that dolt here on purpose because he is your brother-in-law, Captain Li?" Shang opened his mouth about to castigate the old chancellor's profanities, but he decided against it. Chi-Fu had a legendary track record for giving harsh assessments and talking negatively on just about anything. He could well be giving bad reports about him to Chang'an. After all, he had no background in transforming a brawling mob into an efficient fighting force, and Chi-Fu was here to assess him.
Chi-Fu ranted, "At first, I thought the Huns had sent the kid as a way to sabotage our army from the inside."
"I see," Shang responded, even when the enthusiastic voice in his head was hoping that the clueless Fa Ping would kill Chi Fu sooner rather than later. "He is still Fa Zhou's successor, I am sure the boy inherited some of his father's strength of mind, tenacity and ingenious thinking. Perhaps he is a late bloomer."
"Or perhaps simply clumsiness and insanity," mocked Chi-Fu.
"Leave it to me to deal with him."
"I want to see you try. I am sure that soon enough you will be asking your ancestors just what you have done in your previous life to deserve leading this regiment."
I already did. Shang deadpanned in his head, paying Chi-Fu a long-suffering look. A tap on the screen interrupted their exchange.
"Captain Li Shang! Honourable Chi-Fu!" The man outside said in a quick, anxiety-ridden whisper.
"Yes?" Shang responded, feeling terrible foreboding about this.
"It's the Prince of Wei… " the man heaved, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.
"Someone tried to poison him!"
After consulting with the physician, Shang concluded it was a confined case of food poisoning. After some quick detective work, all evidence led him to one culprit―the chef's assistant, Fa Ping.
"He mistook the pig's food for bean bun paste," clarified Chef Zhang, looking somewhat amused rather than devastated. "Not only that, he nearly burnt down our makeshift kitchen in the process."
The Chef's entertained smirk somehow erased Shang's initial suspicion that the boy might be an arsonist. Chef Zhang's entertained smile suggested that Fa Ping regularly performed such accidental stunts on regular basis.
The boy tried not to flinch under Shang's grilling glare.
So this must be the infamous Fa Zhou's son and his brother-in-law. Shang realized feeling his curiosity suddenly stir. The boy was nothing like he had been expecting, not that Shang had a great impression of him from the handful of times they had met. But skinny, with no Adam's apple and a teenager―over whom Chi-Fu was now fussing-was certainly not it. The boy had a petite frame, non-existent muscles, narrow shoulders and feminine eyebrows whose ends had a definite singed look to them. He didn't look much like Fa Zhou. He looked like... well, a bit like a clumsy lunatic.
And that nervous smile he was giving him, reminded him a lot of the unfortunate events during his wedding night... because that smile was an uncanny semblance to his new wife, Mulan.
The next morning the training ensued. As circulating rumour had suggested, Shang's training regime proved to be brutal and exhausting, though effective in the grand scheme of things; showing an efficient leader hid behind the harsh exterior.
"Keep your hands on your sword and your heart to your country!" Shang proclaimed. Then he approached a tall wooden mast, dragging two metal weights with him.
"This represents discipline, and this represents strength," he appended as he selected a recruit and attached a metal weight to each hand. Yao, the unfortunate volunteer, could hardly stand with them and the ruthless captain was expecting him to climb with them.
"By the end of this training, each of you has to be able to retrieve the arrow," came Shang's commanding voice, goading the soldiers into the challenge. "Consider it to be my seal of approval and a sign of graduation into the Imperial Army."
Mulan always had a short-attention-span problem. Her father had addressed this a few times when he caught her yawning while he droned on about certain battle techniques. But right now, her focus-ineptitude problem seemed to miraculously cease the moment Shang abandoned his shirt.
Mulan stole several glances when her husband wasn't looking. Shang was bare-chested, pacing about the courtyard glaring with a predatory stare that made her weak at the knees, for an entirely different reason.
She watched as Yao began to climb. The task was proving to be harder than it looked. With no firm grip available, Yao futilely fought the gravitational force that pulled him down. In his desperation, the guy even attempted to bite the mast to gain footing. They were there, taking turns to be tortured until sundown.
"Enough for today."
Shang's announcement was welcomed with a congregational sigh of relief.
That evening, Shang sat despondently on the far end of the encampment, seeking to clear his mind after another fruitless day of training. He saw the post where he had planted his arrow mutely mocking him. He sighed heavily. From where he sat, he saw Chien-Po and a few guys his size trading punches and kicks. They were like oversized boys playing with dangerous weapons rather than efficient warriors with real fighting skills. Chi-Fu's objection over his father's promotion echoed in his head. "He is too young to be a Captain."
No, no… he admonished himself. The Emperor's Advisor's sharp tongue was the last thing he needed, but it was like an inescapable force. What if Chi-Fu was right? What if he was too young and inexperienced to lead a regiment? What if he was right about his hopeless trainees―that no matter how hard he trained them, they would remain a bunch of goons with mediocre fighting instincts?
Shang was here for other purposes too, but his first line of duty was to transform these men into a lethal war weapons.
"Before the battle of the fist come the battle of the mind." The wise voice of his father resonated in his memory, and Shang immediately felt comforted. I have to have more faith in my men...
And... in myself.
"Your soup is here, Your Honor." Chef Zhang from the threshold of the tent.
"Just put it on the table. Who made it this time?" Shao asked.
"Myself, Your Grace," the man supplied. "I've already pre-tested it to make sure there are no unpleasant surprises."
You bet. Shao bristled, pushing his body up from the bed that currently felt like a dead weight. Dismissing Chef Zhang, he propped himself against the wall.
Before falling despicably ill, the last few weeks of training were a mundane business for him, mainly because he had known, even mastered, whatever Li Shang was teaching the rest of the recruits. Now he was weak, bedridden, and physically incapacitated to perform any strenuous activity, he had no choice but to fill his time with nothing but reading and thinking.
All because of that dimwit Fa Ping, Shao thought ruefully. That harmless, delicate-looking man in disguise. The revelation that there was a girl infiltrating the camp kept plaguing him and filling his mind with atrocious scenarios of why she was here.
At first, he suspected that Fa Ping must have attempted a vendetta on him because of the bath time travesty a fortnight ago. She must have deciphered that he knew her secret, hence voluntarily decided to eliminate him to keep his mouth shut. But after hearing her clumsy attempt to catch a fish where she ended up catching Yao's toe instead, her tactical cheat in planting the tomato on the arrow before actually firing it, not to mention her amazing canon aiming ability that had turned Chi-Fu's tent to dust―her blunder of mistaking pig feed for bean bun paste wasn't that far fetched.
Perhaps she is just plain stupid. Shao ran a palm down over his face. He wished he had never discovered the information about Fa Ping being a woman, but it was something that he couldn't un-see.
If that girl in disguise isn't Fa Ping, then… who is she? Shao wondered, cogs and wheels turning over in his mind.
From his peripheral vision, he saw her. He took a mental note when the girl gawked openly the moment Captain Li abandoned his robe. She was turning bright red and looking positively abashed when the Captain touched her hand to correct her stance. It was no news that Captain Li was a fine-looking man. It was kind of natural for any girl to be irrepressibly flustered around him. Perhaps, if Shao was a woman, he would find Shang equally irresistible, especially knowing that he was married. Who disliked a man who was experienced in bed? He nearly burst out laughing at his own ridiculous thoughts.
Suddenly, a revelation dawned upon him. His eyes darted towards a bunch of recruits who were still grunting and groaning under Shang's ruthless training regime. From his vantage point, Ping was there, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Despite her struggle to follow Shang's order, there was an undeniable longing look in her eyes… she knew him.
Yes, she knew him.
As soon as their business was done, the throng of Imperial Army soldiers left the camp. Mulan watched them as they were hoisted onto their war horses, with sashes and crests decorating their military uniforms, marching gallantly while holding their banner and ensigns. Mulan wondered if they would be that imposing by the end of their training. But, at the moment, she wasn't worried about training…
"You summoned me, Captain?" Beyond his calm, collected voice, Shang could see the recruit's tense shoulders and chagrined expression lurking underneath. Was he even breathing?
Mulan cringed mentally, preparing for impact. What she had learned in the past week of her husband's inhumane training was that he would not thrift mercy for punishment. While she had no idea why Shang may have invited her presence, she was certain her demise was near.
"At ease, Soldier!" Shang saw his brother-in-law's poised stature relax slightly, and a relieved sigh expelled lightly from his lips.
"Yes, Fa Ping. I wish to discuss something privately with you," he said tonelessly, visage grave and serious.
Ping looked apprehensive again until he reassured him. "Don't worry. You are not in any kind of trouble." The lines around his eyes eased when he saw how much the boy reminded him of his wife but then returned when he began to speak.
"You must have remembered me. I am Li Shang, your brother-in-law." He paused, giving him some time to assess his memory of the boy that he had met briefly on his wedding day and during Fa Li's illness.
Out of nowhere, suddenly Ping behaved rather strangely.
"Oh, of course, I remember you, Captain." Ping jutted his chest out, flashing what was supposed to be a cavalier smile before expectorating to his side. Shang's eyes widened, he didn't know whether he should laugh, cry or rebuke the young man for vulgarly spitting inside his makeshift office, burlesquing what he supposed was a display of masculinity. Boy, Chi-Fu was right. This boy is… odd.
Mulan immediately realized that the Captain was less than convinced by her false bravado of manliness. Clearing her throat, she feigned a low, husky voice. "And you were saying?" Tentatively, she shifted her weight from one foot to another, finding his very close, penetrating gaze very unnerving. "Captain?"
"Ah yes," Shang immediately sobered. "I received a report from Chi-Fu about your… difficulty in blending with the residents here, especially the Prince of Wei."
Mulan knew which incident Chi-Fu had reported her for, not to mention she had accidentally caused that spoilt-royal-brat to miss his training because of severe food poisoning.
Ping's face hardened. "I will accept any punishment, Captain. But I refuse to apologize for the altercation with the Prince of Wei on my first day. I had not done any wrong for advocating what is right."
This time, there was no masculine exaggeration nor feigned haughtiness, only a genuine conviction in his bearing as he drove those words home. Shang allowed himself to nod in acquiescence. He was aware of Chi-Fu's visceral inclination to entertain influential people even when it meant embracing unfairness, corruption, and nepotism. So far there was hardly anyone inferior who dared to defy his command. Ping was the first, and Shang applauded him for that.
"Ok, points taken," Shang nodded. "However, aren't you a little too young to join the army? I remember your sister told me you are about eight years younger than her. That makes you… eleven?"
"She must have mentioned it wrong, Captain. I am fourteen this year. I am aware that the summon was for my father. However, he is disabled and still grieving over the untimely departure of my mother. I am sure you are aware of this."
Shang squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin as he appraised Ping's figure from head to toe. Mulan's mind swam with panic as hundreds of voices practically screamed at her in her head. "I have a few childhood friends here who can confirm my age," she asserted further.
"There is no need to," Shang waved his hand.
Perhaps the saying "blood is thicker than water" was true, Ping was like Mulan's bespoke twin. He didn't just share an astonishing degree of likeness to his wife, but the boy's defiance and unyielding personality matched her to the dot as well.
"However, inside this tent, I am your brother-in-law, so if you encounter any difficulties, please do not hesitate to come to me."
Mulan wanted a moment longer listening to his rich baritone voice that seemed to echo in her head. Alas, their meeting was cut off by a polite cough from outside the tent. Chi Fu, a man with a well-established reputation as the destroyer of a critically romantic moment, Mulan berated mentally.
"I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to," Shang said, closing the meeting.
"Of course, Captain."
Mulan stood up and prepared to leave, only to stop at the sensation of sudden warmth as a hand pressed into her lower back. She quickly turned and was face to face with an earnest expression and dark brown eyes that she had almost never seen of him. That was almost more startling. Shang offered a soft smile.
"I won't give up on you, Ping. So, don't give up on me."
His words stung her heart, and although Mulan knew Shang didn't mean the words quite the way she thought of them, it didn't make the reality harder to accept. Mulan shrugged him off, feeling overwhelmed by their proximity. She knew, if she stared at those kind eyes one second too long, she would've melted in his arms.
The dose of fresh air outside the tent seemed to clear Mulan's clouded mind. Once she had a firm hold on her emotions, she quickly replied.
"Captain, I appreciate your concern. I will try my best and do you proud."
"If you want extra training, I will be by the lake after sundown."
It wasn't as though the training every day was not tiring and strenuous enough for both of them, but she'd be lying if the thought of having extra time alone with Shang wasn't appealing. But this was why she wanted to distance herself from the captain during the course of her training! It didn't take long for her to find herself completely at his mercy, yet again. Mulan had hoped that her physical transformation to a man in disguise would mean she would finally be free of the mental baggage that consumed her. She could deal with this at home, back when she played the role of subservient wife. Yet, here she was, feeling as though she were falling all over again. She needed to stop this nonsense, it was so unfitting in the nuance of war and death.
"Thank you, Commander, but I think at the moment I can do nicely on my own," Mulan replied, bowing her head down and forcing the words out her mouth. Mulan dared not show her face as it would probably betray whatever confusing emotion that was currently tugging at her heart.
Shang rewarded her with the kindest smile she ever saw from him, and she was a new bride once again, feeling him embracing her with his strong, protective arms.
Darn it. Why do you have to be so charming?! Mulan cursed herself as she dusted her hands off on her trousers as he gave her leave to join her friends.
If Mulan thought she could deceive her own father, a famous war strategist, long enough to eventually allow her to complete her training, then she was wrong.
Two weeks after her ploy to leave her home without suspicion, Fa Zhou was preparing to fulfil his duty and represent his household on the frontline. He tidied the Emperor's conscription and went about retrieving his armour from the storage cabinet―it was then he discovered that the key was missing.
After spending many hours digging through the mess in the desk drawers and other places he knew he might have put it, his young son, Ping came forward and timidly admitted he had the key. Fa Zhou nearly had a cardiac arrest when he discovered his armour and sword were both gone. At first Fa Ping went on to say someone claiming to be an old colleague of his, had borrowed them forcefully while he was out. It took Fa Zhou another two weeks of research trying to locate the bogus vigilante before he realized that it was a decoy, a distraction that caused him to waste more of his time.
Then, his next finding confirmed his suspicion. After inspecting his summon letter, despite the impeccable strokes and the same emblem imprinted on the letterhead, he noticed the wax sealant bore a slightly crooked insignia. Other than that, he applauded the forged work that could even have riddled him into believing it was the original summons out of the Emperor's office.
And he knew just who, in his household, was capable of creating such a masterpiece. Sometimes, he wondered whether his decision to let Mulan pursue higher education and martial arts had actually been a wise decision after all.
After putting his eleven-year-old boy on the line of interrogation, Ping admitted, his sister had crafted the plan so that he didn't have to go to war. Fa Zhou swore he should've been more well-acclimated to his daughter's conspiracies, especially one that involved her rather gullible, naive little brother. Perhaps age and prolonged absence from the war had turned his brain soft.
But now, Mulan had been with the regiment for more than a month…
He asked the walls around him. "Oh ancestors, what have I done wrong to raise her."
He had been indulgent in his own way to Mulan, and his mother had encouraged that. He had paved the way for her to become the woman she was today; a woman who actively sought independence, questioned her place in society, challenged for fairness and would not hesitate to verbalize her opinions. Mulan's life would've been very different had she been born a man. But right now, as a woman, she had repeatedly created a scene and unwanted controversy.
But isn't that what people say? That the world is always filled with mysteries―conundrums of life, that eventually would teach them a lesson in due time? Failure and opposition are what make us stronger. He remembered imparting those exact words to Mulan when she fell on her first horse ride. But, how could he honestly expect his daughter, an inexperienced young woman, to pull off the deception she had undertaken for the duration of a war? What if her real identity was discovered? What if her body was left on a battlefield, what would people say? A woman impersonating a soldier was a grave offence, and death would never erase that stigma.
"Stop borrowing trouble from the future, foolish old man," he rebuked himself and set to practising his rusty martial art form to distract his mind. He grabbed his old bo staff.
Outside the window, the land looked deceptively tranquil under the light of the silver moon above. A thin mist had rolled up from the valley but had begun to dissipate as the night deepened. He remembered how he spent another moonlit night after an exhausting day―in the arms of his beloved, and his sight lingered on the sentimental memorabilia sitting in the alcove of his room. The picture of his wife smiled serenely back from the parchment, post amid a burst of soft lilac and pink background and dressed in a vivid yellow qipao, her favourite colour. And a fond conversation surfaced in his memory.
It was a lovely autumn day and their little family together with Grandma Fa had just returned home from the temple. Mulan turned five that day, and their family had given their homage at the nearby temple. Grandma Fa was still at the family shrine, praying to their ancestor for her granddaughter's prosperous life and future full of blessings ahead.
Fa Li sat under the plum tree, watching her daughter exuberantly play about the courtyard. Mulan pranced into her favourite training spot, kicking her shoes from her soles, straight away before picking up the wooden sword and making all sorts of dramatic battle cries against some invisible enemy.
"I can't believe she is five and she... ― "
"...can hold her sword better than her chopsticks?" Fa Zhou supplied, depositing himself beside her.
"That has me worried," she exasperated. "What kind of man would want to marry her?"
Her unmistakably worried expression made the entire scene funnier than it already was.
"Fa Li…." He shook his head, biting his lips to curb the rising laughter. "Mulan is just five. Don't you think it's a little early to think about the right suitor?"
That got her smiling,"You are right," she said, snaking her arm around his and leaning on his broad shoulder. "Funny though, I have a feeling she will marry well."
"Even better than you?"
He heard her forging a fake noise of annoyance. "I don't know what you are talking about."
In between their dialogue, another small voice was heard.
"Now! Say you forfeit or I chop off your head!" Mulan declared in a pretentious, booming tone. She stood, wielding her sword menacingly at one of the apple trees. Fa Zhou recognized his old robe among the branches, and a faint trace of chalk on the bark made it look like a wounded man.
"Oh please spare me, General Fa Mulan!" Mulan announced again with a squeaky, fearful voice.
"Good! Now you better eat your green vegetables so you can grow to be as strong as me! HIYA!"
At that moment he couldn't control himself and burst out laughing. Fa Li slapped his shoulder lightly to remind him that his boisterous laugh had invited Mulan's attention. After the awkward episode of Mulan asking, "What's so funny, Baba?" and him trying to give her a vague answer without lying or hurting his daughter's warrior pride, Mulan returned to weave another fictitious tale of glory against the army of fruit trees.
"She is just like you, Zhou. Same stubborn look in her eyes, same fiery spirit." He feigned an eye-rolling deadpan at the mention of the word 'stubborn.'
"And I say this as a compliment," she amended, nudging him a little with her elbow.
"I think your definition of compliment needs a little revisit," he countered, still donning a mirthless face despite the rising desire to laugh.
She chuckled. "No, I mean it. You are the best man I ever married. Not that I ever married anyone else."
"Not even that handsome bachelor that your mother said had nice abs? What was his name again, Hong-Wei? Hong-Hei?"
"No…" She laughed harder before returning her attention to their daughter, who was still deeply embroiled in her own fantasy. "I managed to convince my parents I don't need a husband with delicious abs."
"I need to thank you for that," he grinned. They both sat like that in silence, breathing together, feeling each other's hands while watching their daughter in the distance. Yes, Mulan was the personification of their love, proof that their ancestors were well-pleased with their union... if only she was a boy…
"Thank you for refusing to take another wife who would give you a son," Fa Li suddenly said, breaking the silence.
He laced his fingers with hers, letting the warmth filter through his heart.
"Thank you for giving me a daughter, Fa Li-Juan. Somehow, I know… I can feel right here," he said, putting their entwined hands atop his heart. "That she will make us prouder than any sons could."
His wife beamed at that.
"However, I do worry about… about our family, our future…" he added after a pause.
Fa Li disentangled her hands from his. "What do you mean?"
"I am constantly involved in battles. Facing death and uncertainty is my daily meal. What if, one day I… ― "
A touch of her soft lips on his halted his words.
"Don't let fear stop you from living, Zhou. I know how much you love what you do," she whispered. "And you are very good at it. Not to mention that this country and its people have benefited from your skill and bravery."
He looked at her, and at that point he knew, he was an extremely lucky man. Her dedication had transcended their loveless beginning. Her devotion and patience had covered so many flaws and bridged so much brokenness. Her love surged beyond his expectation. She had created for him a place he could call home ― a sanctuary, a place where his soul found solace.
"Do you know why I fell in love with you?" He could see his wife turning pink to the tips of her ears and swiftly averted her sight back to their daughter who was just winning another imaginary battle.
"You always know the right string to pull, the right words to say at the right time. And that's how you've made a passageway through my heart."
His heart mellowed at once. Fa Li-Juan. Her smile was like a warm wave lapping and wrapping around his tired soul. Her voice had soothed his aches and pains from war. But she was no longer here, her memory was.
"Fa Li, help me to keep our daughter safe."
After a moment of retrospection, Fa Zhou stood up in front of the altar. Anger would do little to repair whatever blunder his son had unknowingly embroiled himself in.
"Ping…" he called. The young boy emerged from behind the door, wringing his hands and biting his lips. His heart was softened considerbly.
"Why don't you help me to prepare the horse tomorrow?"
With a reticent nod, the young boy departed with a regretful glance in his direction. But he stopped at the threshold of the door.
"Baba…" he said, sucking in a breath before meeting his father's eyes. "I hope you understand. It's not like Mulan is a rebellious delinquent. She had her reasons. And believe me, she was scared to death to do this."
Something stirred deep within him. Fa Zhou smiled. "I know, Son."
The next day, Fa Zhou's departure was at hand. By the moon gate of their property, he bid farewell to his son and mother. Surprisingly, their exchange was a lot easier than he thought it would be. There were hardly any tears, perhaps because everyone was more concerned about Mulan's situation than thinking of the war itself.
"I'll go to her encampment and pass a message to Shang," he said. "I promise you that I will do everything to keep her safe," he appended as he mounted his white steed.
A year ago, Fa Zhou might have been downright angry at Mulan's reckless resolution. But with his wife's death, having touched the fabric of the veil…he had finally come to the understanding that there was so much more out there than just duty and survival. The death of a loved one could make even the most renowned hero humble and willing to accept the thoughtful sacrifice of others.
"Please tell her we love her," Grandma Fa's voice was almost breaking. Next to her, Ping held her hand tighter.
Fa Zhou kissed the old woman's cheek, reassuring her. "Don't worry, she'll be back."