There was a cacophony of panic as Shao Wei shouted a string of commands, getting the infirmary ready and fetching the village doctor. But she couldn't hear them all. Her feet felt like steel, and her head was stuck in a thick cloud somewhere. All felt so surreal until Shao Wei shouted at her, "Ping! Don't just stand there! Prepare the infirmary. Hurry!"
She'd seen someone hurt, obviously, during training―but her experience of war had never involved a real weapon and blood…..or the possibility of death. Realizing the fatality of the situation, she jumped to the task and set up the surgical table ready for the patient.
"What happened?" she asked as Shao helped Shang up to sit on the edge of the operating table and she hovered nervously.
No. He couldn't die. He shouldn't. Not now.
"We were attacked," Shao said. Ling and Chien-Po immediately offered their help, standing by the door waiting for the next instruction.
"By who?" she said automatically, paying Shang a worried glance.
"The Huns," Shang grunted, obviously in pain.
"The Huns?" she repeated, shocked. "They are… ―they are here?"
Shang's eyes went past her to Shao Wei, and he spoke up. "We were patrolling the perimeter, me, Shang, and three other guys, and suddenly there is…. " He pointed at the half of the projectile that was still stuck in Shang's flesh, "...This is Hun's arrow. From the shape and design, I can tell."
"Your Highness, we've called the doctor, but… he won't be in for another couple of hours. He is attending another critically ill patient in the village as we speak," reported one of the recruits.
"Oh!" Mulan gasped in horror. Suddenly, the muted grey and white color scheme stood out in contrast to the amount of blood splattered around them. She just realized the grim truth that she could lose her husband tonight.
Dear ancestor, please don't let it be tonight; she prayed.
"Well," Shao said, remarkably calm as he turned to Mulan and a few men who were standing at the door. "Seems like we have no choice but to do it ourselves."
"Wait! What?!" Ling and Chien-Po chorused from the threshold of the door. Shao ignored that, turning to her, eyes coaxing her to calm down.
"Get that off him," Shao said, gesturing at Shang's armor.
Mulan obeyed, stepping close to Shang and trying hard not to catch his eye as she undid his armor and his clothes. It was hard to see him like this, bleeding and in pain.
He let out a painful groan when she pushed the metal armor off his wounded chest. She tried her best to be gentle, leaning in close to slip it down his arm. But there was only so much she could do to minimize his pain, the wound was deep, and removing the tight-fitting metal forced him to move his arm, causing fresh blood to seep from the gash in his skin.
"Sorry…." Sorry for my stubbornness, sorry that I've lied,... sorry that I can't be a good wife to you…
Shang just looked at her, he didn't say anything but his eyes told her he was fine and she should continue doing whatever she was doing.
She leaned around the other side of him to strip the armor the rest of the way off, and he let out his breath when his skin was finally free of metal constriction.
He was not wearing much underneath. But then, she had seen the view before. She tried very hard not to notice anything but the injuries which needed attention.
The wound was deep, and the precise way the arrowhead managed to penetrate in between the tiny gap in Shang's armor suggested the assailant was an experienced archer.
Shao touched the part of the arrow that was still protruding. He mouthed something to Shang and then pulled the projectile with sudden force. Shang's body jerked and he gasped in pain. Shao grabbed his hands firmly as if helping him to channel his agony.
"I can't promise the next few minutes will be any better, Captain," Shao said, noticing droplets of perspiration appearing on Shang's skin as he concentrated on keeping the level of pain under control.
"It's better me than you," Shang rasped between rapid heaves.
Something about Shang's words and his nonchalance sharing touched her. It was such a simple, short declaration, but it spoke of a deep, profound reflection of Shang's true character. This was the facet of his personality that she had rarely seen: a quiet, dignified conviction and unending loyalty. There were reasons why his men had followed him to battle, respected him as their leader, trusting him with their life…..and that wasn't just down to his skill and dedication.
It was because his heart was in the right place.
Mulan's heart clenched in her chest. While it suffered greatly when Shang dismissed her, it also swelled with pride knowing she was betrothed to one of the bravest, noblest warriors in China.
Shao Wei peered closer, taking inventory of other bumps and bruises. He immediately confirmed Shang had not sustained any other serious injury.
"This will need a lot of stitches," Shao announced after Shang's pain seemed to be abated. "Have anyone stitched someone before?"
"I stitched my own underpants," Chien-Po admitted rather shyly. "Because no one sells my size." His admission would've been funny if not sweet if it were given in non-life-threatening circumstances. "Hardly a ringing endorsement, I know."
"I stitch my rooster pet after my mother slaughtered him for dinner," Ling admitted absently.
"I said someone―preferably still breathing and stayed that way," Shao reiterated, a little annoyed.
"I stitched before," Mulan finally said. The truth was, she had stitched herself before when she fell from her horse and managed to cut her knee. She was so afraid her father would forbid her to ride Khan, so she decided to take the matter into her own hands. She had to use Grandma Fa's sewing kit and her father's stash of wine to patch herself up. In summary, it wasn't a pleasant experience.
"In the cupboard, top shelf," Shang suddenly rasped, and she crossed to the cupboard and retrieved the needle, knife, and thread. She took care by disinfecting them in alcohol before leaving the kit on the table.
"Is there anything you can't do?" Shao said as she applied the alcoholic fabric over Shang's chest and inserted the thread into the needle. Shang winced when the antiseptic stung his opened nerve, but he was visibly more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago.
"I mean math, war strategy...and this?" Shao whispered. She looked up to see an impressed look on his face.
"I'm not a good cook, remember?" she told him. Meanwhile, Ling and Chien-Po were already summoned by panicked Chi-Fu to assist in patrolling the encampment perimeter for trespassers.
"Heh," Shao chuckled, "You can't be worse than him," smirking at helpless Shang.
"Thanks," Shang objected, obviously conscious and listening, "I have chosen to leave the cooking department to the women. There's a limit to what you can do with a dead rabbit."
He was talking in full sentences again, so she took that as a good sign. She only really worried about him when he was silent. Or monosyllabic.
When she stuck the needle to his flesh, Shang grunted, trying to keep still.
"Do you have any local?" Shao asked, obviously perceiving Shang's discomfort.
"No," Shang said immediately, but Shao ignored him, looking at Mulan.
"Local?" she asked a little too loud. She fought to hide her reaction to all the blood that was already dripping onto the table underneath the surgical table.
"Local anesthetic," Shao explained, "or some other kind of narcotic?"
"I said no," Shang hissed.
"Don't be a child," Shao chided, "A man in pain can't be trusted."
"Tie me down then."
"For stitches?" Shao shook his head. "This is an army infirmary full of supplies, why put yourself through it?"
"I don't like the side effects." Because even Mulan couldn't imagine Shang being all lose tongue and loopy.
"Fine," Shao turned and rifled through the medicine cabinet. After a few minutes of not finding what he wanted, he marched outside.
Meanwhile, Mulan assessed Shang's wounds. They're not as wide as sword cut, but the puncture especially could do with a number of stitches.
"Did you see them?" she asked, trying to distract herself but her eyes stay fixed on the wound in his chest. It gapes red, his skin rent and split.
"No," Shang replied. "But I suspect there are a few of them."
The wound looked painful. An arrow must hurt when it pierced into the skin.
Mulan considered the entire rationale of the situation. Shang was only a captain, not a general with the power to move the battalions with just a single command. Eliminating him would only provoke the Chinese, but not weakened them. Then, why shot him?
"I am not their target," he said, causing her to pause. "A man with the skill to aim an arrow from a distance to fit between my armor's tight gap could kill me in just a shot. And...he could've lathered the arrowhead with deadly poison to ensure the victim's death. Agh..." he winced as he tried to move to one side. "But he didn't."
Mulan hummed her approval and resumed her ministration.
"I saw the Prince one night with a Hun woman," Shang confided, his breathing and speaking were visibly easier now that the pain had receded. And it seemed, losing that much blood wasn't such a big deal for him. "You're there too. I know you saw them."
Something in his expression dampened her usual reflexive defensiveness. Mulan found herself unable to deny Shang's blunt incrimination, so she nodded weakly.
"He must have allied with some of the Huns," he added. Shang went on and elaborated that out of his concern for Shao's safety, he wrote to his father right after the sighting. "My father told me: Shao was a close friend of Princess Altansarnai back in the day. He said he wasn't at all surprised if they are still in touch."
A vague image of the initials 'ALS' on the hand-drawn map she found in Shao's tent blitzed through her mind. Although the days when she thought Shao was a traitor was long gone, she had never solved the conundrum of who the woman was, or more importantly, what kind of information she shared with Shao Wei.
"There is a rumor that Princess Altansarnai is leading a guerrilla movement against the Khan himself."
"You mean she plans to overthrow her own father?" It was hard for Mulan to think anyone would have the nerve to betray the man that raised and nurtured them, but again, as Shao mentioned, even a simple filial relationship in a royal setting could often be complicated.
"She may not be the very person who will smite him with her sword," Shang quipped, "But that doesn't mean she won't assist someone else in doing it."
Mulan could perfectly imagine Shao would stand up for such challenges―especially considering he had vehemently objected to Wei Zhang's idea of giving his sister as the Khan's Khatun―not that plan would materialize now since his sister had died―but the context gave him a strong motive to behead the Great Khan.
However for Altansarnai to betray her own father and assist a political enemy, there had to be a more logical explanation than a mere one-sided favor. Their prince might be a party animal and vocational philanderer but he was not a brainless bimbo who would just jump into helping someone with a pretty face.
"Captain, do you think… there is something more than a platonic connection on with the two of them?"
"Mmpph... I don't know."
In the past, there were suggestions that the two of them will tie the knot. But the Great Mongol Khan wasn't keen on the idea of marrying off his daughter to a man who was best associated with gambling and drinking. He has chosen Shan-Yu instead. Which made perfect sense. Shan-Yu was the strongest, most ferocious Huns warrior who had proven to be loyal and able to defend the country's interests in comparison to a useless Chinese prince who cared nothing for the Huns and had never stepped foot on the battlefront.
But again, sometimes love had no compass, no helmsman. You couldn't simply direct and control it at will. And despite the unfavorable situation, Altan had chosen Shao over her own flesh and blood, her countrymen, and even risking her own life.
A look of realization came over Mulan's face as all the dots were connected.
"You think… Shao is the real target?" she said, horrified by the revelation. "The Princess…. Perhaps...She was trying to warn him..."
"It's a tactic," Shang agreed.
"Have you told him?"
"Of course," Shang quipped swiftly. "But he didn't buy such theories. He said the Hun Princess isn't an avid archer. "
"She would have sent someone else," Mulan tossed the idea.
"He said if Altan wanted to warn him, she would've done so in writing, not with an arrow."
"What if something happened to her which prevented her to write."
"Whatever it is...his life is in danger." Shang sighed, somewhat disappointedly. "But he is in denial. And this could potentially harm him, and without me watching over his back..."
"I will cover for you," she said without much thinking. "I mean… I know I am nowhere as competent as you, Captain, but if you let me stay…"
The sudden grip on her shoulder stalled her words. Looking up, she could only see Shang staring at her. "Ping, I know I've said harsh things to you. But I hope you understand why I do what I did. Why I sent you home."
The whole setting gave a completely different message from what she heard barely a week ago. She had come to a complete realization of Shang's selfless wish to save her from the hellish blood battle ahead of them.
"You are still young, Ping. I don't want you to waste your life."
She nodded absently while trying to contain the tears that threatened to fall. Because finally, she knew one of the many reasons she wanted to stay.
Because loving someone was never a waste of time.
His hand was still on her shoulder when Shao Wei came back, to which Shang retracted immediately.
"We are ready." Shao laid out medical supplies on the bench beside him. Admittedly, she was a little stung by Shang's detached response, but she understood that professionalism and self-restraint were qualities that were embodied in him.
Shao also held out a long thick rope, and Shang methodologically tied one of his wrists, then secured it to the table. He nodded to her to do the other, and she did so. Her fingers were a little shaky thinking of what she had to witness next.
"So...," Shao said conversationally, "I decided you were being an idiot."
And with that he plunged, grabbing Shang by his jaw and emptying the content of the bottle in his hand, giving him no option not to swallow.
Shang immediately turned angry, elbowing him in the gut.
"Bastard!" He snarled. "Shao Wei!"
Mulan stepped back in shock at Shang's unfiltered tirade.
"I didn't want drugs!"
"You weren't thinking straight!" Shao said calmly, dusting his trousers as he stood up. He was standing outside of Shang's admittedly very limited reach. "...so I made the decision for you."
"I don't like drugs!" Shang yelled, "How could you?"
"You've met me, right?" Shao chuckled, arrogantly unperturbed. Shang pulled against the rope, cursing and snarling. Shao ignored him, but when one particularly vicious twist causes more blood to flow from Shang's chest wound, he called Mulan to step in.
"Your turn to fix him."
Shao wiped his forehead with his sleeves. He was sweating profusely. He didn't realize restraining Shang was a lot of work until his strained muscle told him so.
He didn't see why Shang had to be so stubborn and chose to suffer over losing his sobriety. While he knew the pain was often inevitable, suffering was often unnecessary. But seeing how well Mulan coped with her obstinate husband, he thought it was a good time to leave.
And his eyes caught the glimpse of Chi-Fu, rushing from the direction of his tent.
"You are back. I've been searching all over for you, Your Lord Highness," Chi-Fu said, bowing.
"Oh, I was in the infirmary."
"Yes, I heard. Captain Li isn't it?" and the old councilor made a face, a really fake pitiful face that Shao never thought possible. "About three months ago, I told him there was an archer while I was bathing. And guess what? Captain Li dismissed me for being paranoid. Now, look at him!"
Shao pulled a most convincing discerning face when Chi-Fu went on to give an expansive chronology of the events. He never planned to disclose the truth that the anomaly Chi-Fu had experienced was, in fact, his creative way to protect Fa Ping's real identity.
"I've left all your letters on the desk―as requested," Chi-Fu said.
"Thank you," he said, quickly moving past the old man and into his tent. He immediately found a few parchments, but not the one he was hoping to find.
"Honorable Chi-Fu!" he beckoned the old man who came rushing back into his tent. "No letter from Ms. Shu Qi?" which was a codename for Ting Ting.
"No," Chi-Fu replied, eyes searching for the truth. "Dare I asked: Is she the new girl you've dated?"
Shao was sure the gossipy councilor wouldn't miss noticing the regularity of those letters. Tabloid could've tipped him a handsome reward to buy a cheap, romantic column material.
"Maybe," Shao smiled sweetly. "We met not long ago before I was sent to this battalion. We are off to a bumpy start." He lied through his teeth. "It took me a while to see she wasn't like any of the girls I courted before. There is something special about her." And he looked up to gauge Chi-Fu's reaction. From the twinkling of his eyes, he knew the Emperor's counselor had bought his story. "I will inform you if this engagement is turning into something more fruitful."
"I'm all ears," Chi-Fu said, looking particularly pleased with himself.
After such a dramatic turn of events, Shang had suspected nothing short of anticlimactic would likely top up a wound in his chest. And the next morning, he was proven wrong.
"You want Ping to escort you to Hoching temple?" he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the Prince when he announced he was leaving that afternoon to a temple outside Xi'an to pay respect to his late aunt.
"Yes, any problem with that?" Shao shot back with his unusual cavalier smirk that rubbed Shang's nerves. Next to him, Ping blinked in quiet surprise.
"Your Highness, may I point out that Ping is not ready for this kind of assignment? What if someone attacks you? What would he know what to do? No offense, Ping," Shang said, addressing the boy who appeared dumbfounded.
"Are you really concerned about me… or there are...other reasons," Shao countered, his lips ticked upwards with a seditious smile Shang knew all too well.
What the hell he is implying? "I beg your pardon?"
"Captain Li, look at you," he said with a tone that Shang could only be identified as patronizing. "You are injured. You might be stronger and undoubtedly a lot more imposing than Ping, but without your usual strength and agility, your impressive body is nothing but a decoy."
Dear ancestors, why he is so infuriating? "My wound is healing fine, Your Honor. Therefore I… ―"
"I don't believe you understand me right, Captain Li."
His tone was agreeable, but Shang knew it was a command when he heard one. "I understood fine, Your Honor," he replied, pleasantly enough, but with a hint of steel behind it.
Shao stepped closer, crossing his arms. "No, I don't think you get it. You seem to be under the impression that I'm making suggestions."
A low but distinct cracking alerted him to the fact that he was gripping the training stick so hard, that it was on the verge of breaking. Taking a deep breath and chanting some inner peace mantra, he eased the stick and placed it on the ground. "In all due respect, I am much rather you pick someone else," Shang said politely.
"Are you saying Ping is incapable of defending me?"
"That's not what I meant!" Shang said a little too loud. Cutting his gaze to the side and giving Ping an apologetic look he hoped the boy would understand. Ping just stared blankly at him.
It took Shang a couple of seconds to collect his usual calm composure. "What I meant: he needs more time." The time that we don't have.
He thought that Ping was going to be offended at his lecture, but he didn't. In fact, Ping looked like he was ready to crawl under the table, biting his lips with nervous energy watching the dire situation deteriorate…. And likely to end in disaster.
"No, I still think Ping is the best man for the job," Shao said, this time his expression was closed off.
Is there anything this guy wants besides a punch? Shang's inner monologue expressed. But Shang knew better than digging his own unmarked grave, so he settled with other strategies.
"Do you forget about this?" he gestured towards the thick bandage on his chest. The blood no longer seeped through the dressing but the mark would be a permanent reminder for months to come.
"Someone wants your life!" he spelled it out for his own benefit, and boy… that felt good.
So good.
Mulan watched the exchange silently. She decided not to say anything because any comment could potentially swing the pendulum and create the impression that she was siding with one of them. While she thought Shang was right, alienating Shao would have a profound effect―what if, out of annoyance, he decided to tell Shang about her secret identity?
And why the hell he suddenly wished to go to Xi'an? Mulan had never believed praying to the spirit of his late aunt was Shao's only agenda. The man wasn't even religious! He wanted to do something else there. Something urgent.
Minutes passed, but neither of them backed down. Shao impaled him with a dire look (that Shang chose to ignore) before adding. "I don't have time for this! Tomorrow, before sunup we're leaving. Feel free to tag along if you wish."
Shang didn't say anything but his jaw is set in his most stubborn expression. By this point, he knew it was fruitless to argue. He was foolish to believe that he could at least beat some sense into Shao's skull.
The next day, she got ready early. She had arranged to rent a rickshaw since people normally would recognize they were soldiers from their stallions. She told Shang about her plan, and strangely enough, he agreed without much debating. A tepid nod was as far as approval she was going to get, so she quickly fetched the Prince of Wei from his tent before Shang changed his mind.
"Good plan, Ping!" Shao praised her when she told him of her plan. "I like smart men," he complimented in the most suggestive way possible, even dared to pretend that the temperature was bothering him, so he had a reason to put away his robe, only to put it back on again―a mocking homage Shang's shirtless penchant.
Mulan didn't know whether she should blush or lob the Prince's dimwitted head. It was both teasing and flirting to some extent, but mostly flirting.
Maybe Mushu (although she resented his sardonic little barb) was right about him.
"You are overly generous, Your Honor." She gave him a disdainful sniff. From Shao's mischievous grin it was obvious he did this out of purpose to draw Shang's reaction. And this was where Mulan hoped Shang had a drop of emotional perception and not so callous of the trap lying ahead. Unfortunately, the ever-so-gullible Shang remained oblivious and bit the bait.
"You should be used to compliments," Shao said again. She could only see amusement on his features. Shang, in contrast, seemed on edge.
"Not really," she admitted. "But it's always nice to get one. Thanks," she said with a pinch of sarcasm.
"Are you two done?" Shang interrupted, crossing his arms a little more tightly. And Mulan absolutely did not notice that it did really great things for his biceps. Nope.
"Well then," the Prince said, ignoring the thick cloud of jealousy that formed on the top of Shang's head, "lead on Captain." He stepped up beside Mulan and diligently opened the door for her, making sure Shang observe him. "We are mere soldiers who live to follow."
Shang did that thing where she thought he was grinding his teeth. "Fine," he snapped, walking off.
Shang knew how to drive a carriage. He also sped.
In fact, he sped at a breakneck pace that Mulan could only applaud as astonishing considering one: Shang didn't have four legs. And two: he had recently been injured. But she knew better than to point that out and became the receiving end of Shang's death glare (just like he did when she offered him help to haul the transport).
The silence during the carriage ride was a little oppressive. Shang was aggressively focused on the road while Shao looked out to his side, watching the landscape zipping by. Shao looked untypically serious, too serious for a person who stared at trees, mountains, and lakes.
She wondered if either of them had noticed the tension or if it were just her imagination. These things were often her imagination. But fantasy or not, travelling with two stubborn, polarising males was a very bad combo.
But at least the fact that Shang was speeding meant he was healing well. And that was good news.
"Oh, that looks like a Japanese pagoda!" Mulan exclaimed, trying to break the tension in the air. But with Shang's current mood and Shao's mischievous intention, she only made it worse.
"You'd like to travel?" Shao said, making up for Shang's shortcomings as a conversationalist. "Me too!"
"He has a mansion in Japan," Shang pointed out, a little sarcastically.
"Ah yes! It's my father's favorite place to spend his winter with his wives. Imagine, solitude and snow and open fire," Shao quipped, playing along. "I will let a room for you. No...no. A suite!"
Then, shifting the topic, Shao babbled relentlessly about onsen; Japanese outdoor hot bath that traditionally people used as a communal bathing venue, completely unclothed. Hygiene reason, he dubbed. Shao even dared cracked a lewd joke about it being a fabulous place for couples to get intimate, which was met by the contemptuous silence it deserved.
Shang's expression was unchanging, yet still pulling the cart at a pace that probably broke a few speeding regulations. He even managed to miss a noodle cart by a hair length. Whether it was down to luck or skill, Mulan didn't want to know.
The grim silence resumed, and this time Mulan made no effort in breaking the tension.
Shang did try to respect everyone's personal space, but Shao didn't have the same inhibition.
Shao flustered her in an entirely different way from how Shang flustered her.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that around Shang she flustered herself. But Shao flustered her all by himself and she didn't quite know how to respond to that.
Although Shang was undoubtedly attractive, she had a fling with a few men before.
But the way Shao paid attention to her and encouraged her was different. He treated her as if she should be used to this kind of appreciation and she was not. Or at least, not from someone like him.
As a rule, her past crush had been sweet, young, sensitive guys, generally fond of board games or literature. They wore linen robes (never appear shirtless for sure), and spending most of their time reading in the garden and drinking tea. All were smart, a little shy, and somewhat socially… unaccepted.
Just like she was.
It took her by surprise when Shang came into her life―a confident and competent man with a physique to match. And then came Shao, who was symmetrical in terms of confidence, looks, and ability, but own opposite character of Shang's cold, withdrawn persona.
But it was Shang that had captured her heart. If there's anyone she wanted to kiss and slap at the same time, it's him.
However, at the moment, she had no idea the direction Shao was scheming with his constant goading.
Thankfully they arrived at the restaurant―their first stopover―before the atmosphere turned into something… ugly.
They entered via a back door. The owner establishment clearly had extensive experience handling a high-profile clientele, because within seconds they were ushered to a private room, far from the peering eyes of the outsider.
Shao was sporting a plain linen robe, a pair of baggy trousers, and a coordinating hobo bag. But despite adopting a peasant-like appearance, dozen of curious glances from the casual observer still followed him. Shang was right, Shao Wei, as the most controversial figure in China would need more than just herself as his bodyguard to fend for him. Suddenly, she felt immensely grateful that Shang, regardless of his disapproval, decided to tag along.
They sat around a square table, Shao, of course, purposely sat next to her to which she could only protest silently by breathing loudly through her nose.
Minutes passed in silence.
Shao leaned one elbow on the table, the other rubbing his perfectly angular jaw in deep thought, while Shang cooly flipped through the menu. And the entire effect was like they were in some sort of live-painting session for unattainably beautiful men against everyday backdrops.
Somehow she wasn't at all surprised when not one, but three, very attractive-looking waitresses with voluptuous figures and equally alarming hemlines, appeared to take their order.
As usual, Shao Wei was very accommodating and effortlessly charming toward them. "Hi, ladies!"
"Welcome our Lord Highness Prince of Wei!" The women giggled daintily and exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries that could only be defined as an excuse for further flirting. One of them, an energetic conversationalist with pouty lips, even dared to prop herself against the Prince's shoulder, the exposed flesh on her leg was pleading him to touch her.
And Shao Wei wasn't the only target (or shall we say―victim?)
Although looking disturbingly grave (which could be reinterpreted as seven orders of magnitude in smoldering scale), no one could deny Shang was a rare specimen of masculine beauty. It was hardly a surprise when there was a blatant attempt by one of the girls to woo Shang. She latched on his arm and leaned desperately close to the point she could've sat on his lap! Thankfully, Shang coldly ignored her as if he was plainly unaware of her unsolicited attention. Mulan didn't know whether this was a tactical move to deter aggressive pursuant, or Shang found the duck bathed in hoisin sauce far more appealing―whatever it was, she was grateful.
In contrast, Shao welcomed all the attention, quirking his lips, flashing his playboy smile, and muttering something along the line of 'usual order' to which Mulan didn't want to know to what extent.
She remained captivated by the interaction around her until one of the girls, who wasn't as pretty but certainly decorative, threw a simpering smile right in her direction, and Mulan's pulse spiked. What if she tried to touch on her? Worse―kiss her? Should she pretend to be sick? Or maybe coughing out blood and falling unconscious on the spot? Thankfully, Shao dismissed them all before she had to resort to something dramatic.
"So… would you like to stay?" Shao asked her after ordering the food.
"What?"
"Japan," he said again, ignoring the fact there was another party on the table, one that was particularly keen to dig his eyeballs with his chopsticks. "It has fifty rooms, south facing veranda, a spa, and hot springs! I promise you it'll be memorable." He turned his best-beseeching eyes on her and Mulan winced when one of the waiters, who came in to serve the tea, quirked her brow at them. It was a very careless comment made by someone who was clearly a tabloid magnet.
Thankfully, before he could extract her answer, the food arrived, ten different plates of it.
"We can't eat all this!" she said, but Shao waved her objections away.
"It's what I always did," he explained. "One of everything."
"Must be nice being rich," she said, undeliberately thinking of the mansion in Japan.
"Occupational hazard," Shao muttered somewhat smugly. "Maybe after the war ended we can talk more about… Japan," he added, voice between smoky and velvety but loud as though making sure Shang could hear the suggestive tone he was delivering.
Shang stayed on the edge but seemed like he had employed another coping strategy at Shao's constant boasting and flirting. He folded food in his mouth, noiselessly and efficiently.
To avoid another mention of Japan, Mulan steered the conversation toward other….more pedestrian topics. She began by asking Shao about his extensive wine knowledge and politely included Shang by asking about his favorite kind of tea concoction.
"Here, Ping, you eat before this gets cold," Shang said, scooping a portion of braised tofu with his chopstick and into her mouth. So she did, and her slight embarrassment at the intimacy of the motion was swiftly overtaken by full-scale mortification when she couldn't help but moan a little at the divine taste of it.
She opened her eyes to see Shang ever so close. His expression was unreadable but intense.
Mulan blinked and Shang jerked and leaned back, slightly flustered, while Shao nearly swallowed his own chopstick in an attempt not to laugh.
"Sorry, braised tofu is my weakness," she said. That was a heinous lie, Shang was her weakness. That tofu was a complete cover-up.
"So is my wife," Shang said ever so candidly and used the same chopstick to lift a chunk to his own mouth.
"Your wife, huh?" Shao, the eternal pot-stirrer, grinned, stealing a knowing look towards Mulan. If he'd been a dog, his tail would've wagged.
Responding in kind, Mulan kicked his foot and hoped Shang didn't hear a muffled thump coming from under the table.
The weather turned sour as they head into the mainland. On the road, the high winds and rapid temperature drop had transformed the porous tarmac and wet snow into a slippy deathtrap. Xi'an was merely one hour away, but Shao had mercifully called it a day and checked everyone into a nice, cozy accommodation that fitted his standard of royal comfort.
"Ugh, what with that sour face?" came Shao's teasing voice from behind her shoulder as she was unpacking her bag. "Hey, I have something in my bag that will help to drown your sorrow…―"
"It's not that," Mulan sighed, getting tired of Shao's constant needling.
"Can't believe you actually reject a Prince's hospitality," he said, in the most theatrical disbelief voice. "There are a bunch of girls who are dying to have a drink with me."
Mulan sighed exasperatedly. "Shao, why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
Mulan shot him a dire look. "I'm sure you are perfectly aware that you are pulling Shang's leg."
"Pulling his leg? Whatever for?"
"Shao, everyone with eyes could see you are trying to rub his nerve in many ways possible!" she shot back. "I mean… taking me to bunk in that mansion in Japan? Seriously?"
Shao crossed his arms, "Any other accusation?"
"You obstinately wanted to take me on this trip, and… and that simpering smile, that wink… ―"
"Oh come ooon, I'm just creating competition," he defended, still with an innocent tone.
"What?" She gasped, horrified at his admittance.
"Men love competition; it makes them feel challenged," he pointed out.
From her experience, challenges normally invited conflict, and conflict bred catastrophe. "You are playing mischief on purpose to… to..." she punched him on his side. "You dumb, Prince!"
Shao clapped a hand to his chest, eyes pleading like an injured dog who had been abandoned by his owner. "That's a deplorable accusation coming from you, Fa Mulan. How can you be so heartless?"
"Don't make me ruin that handsome face of yours!" she said, not without certain fondness.
"Oh, please don't! I'm just a hopeless royal pain who nobody wants," he said, still retaining that very fake pitiful eyes. "I only want to help."
"Help? You called that help?" she snorted. "Let me remind you that Shang sped like a lune and nearly killed us all by driving us into a wall."
"Uh-huh," Shao waved his disagreement finger. "He was about to drive us into a noodle cart."
"Which is parked by a solid, nearly half-a-meter-thick stone wall!"
He shrugged unrepentantly. "I've told him to slow down. It's not my fault if he didn't listen."
"Curse you and that mansion in Japan!"
"You'll regret saying that. It's extremely beautiful. Imagine the spa―an excellent place to relax, rejuvenate and restore your feminine allure," he said, gleefully remorseless. "But I've made my point."
"You are trying to kill us to make a point?"
"Well, if you die. At least, you'll die happy knowing his secrets," he shrugged easily and mimed a motion of scooping the air with imaginary chopsticks and into her mouth. She slapped his hand and collectively ignored his fake scream of agony.
"Although, thinking about it. I am surprised he didn't go on a rampage mode, tossing some guys around, busted through walls, causing quite a stir," he added, rubbing the red spot on his hand.
Considering Shao's creditable deceit of drugging Shang against his will and seeing today, countless times Shao purposely provoked him, Mulan could picture that sort of destruction could happen. She had the same impulses at Shao's relentless jabbering. That man could be quite a troll sometimes. So she was left astounded when Shang was holding his temper although... barely.
"May I humbly point out that the same challenge will give one perspective―a point of realization that a logical creature like Shang often lacked. Like today, I think he got the idea."
"I'm going to shower," she declared, preparing to leave. She didn't have any desire to entertain this obnoxious conversation.
"So," he said, trailing behind her as she was heading down to the corridor. "Shang apparently likes men. Damn, I owe Chien-Po fifty yuan."
He dodged with remarkable agility and precision as a shoe whizzed by his head.
They arrived in Xi'an early that morning and Shao insisted he needed to make a quick trip to procure praying incense before heading to Hoching.
Shang might be a simple-minded man, but he could smell tricks when he heard one, so, putting aside his absurd envy, he told Ping to tail the Prince while he was finding a space to park the rickshaw.
He managed to track them down fifteen minutes later, staring at the empty vegetable shop in the market square.
"What happened?" he inquired both men. His immediate assessment concluded the place had been left abruptly: one of the show windows was still unhinged and the haphazard way the crates were stacked. Some still have pumpkin and watermelon in them.
Ping stared at Shao Wei with that pointy look while jerking his head toward Shang. But Shao Wei remained silent, expression hard as Shang had rarely seen of him before.
"You have to tell him if you want us to help you." That stern scolding surprisingly came from Ping, who folded his arm and appeared terribly unimpressed.
Shao Wei only sighed deeply and handed him a parchment as an answer. "Found left inside," Ping supplied, pointing at the windowsill.
Shang accepted it. Inside, it's written:
SHAO, HE WANTS YOU
Shang couldn't say he recognized the variation of that handwriting from anyone he knew.
From the delicate stroke, it appeared to be written by a woman, although he wasn't sure. However, he could tell that this particular letter was clearly rushed―setting a tone of urgency. His eyes fell to the bottom of the scroll, past the clumsily written message, and landed on the signature. And his frown deepened.
Don't look for me,
-Xiu Wei Ting-