There was a grim silence in the Li house as everyone exchanged stares, waiting for some sort of answer or explanation about the nameless boy in Shang's hand.
"This is Chao Wentai," Shang announced, his expression was politely blank. "His mother was a victim of a village raid."
Mulan remembered the boy. Flashing images of the field of ashes and the scent of burnt flesh where he was left to die still lingering in her sense.
"Young Master Li," Mei Lan, the old housekeeper scooted closer, smiling kindly to the boy who was clinging tightly on Shang's hand. "I will prepare the east guest wing straight away."
"No need for that Mei Lan, Wentai will be staying in the study room adjacent to our bedroom. Please simply move the old sleeping cot and we will be all set."
Yue's eyes traveled up and down the boy's petite frame before focusing on his face, assessing every feature. "His mother died, you said?" repeated Li Yue after Mei Lan disappeared from view.
"Yes. So, he'll be staying here with us, indefinitely."
Knowing her mother-in-law's temperament, Mulan felt her pulse quicken. She cut her glance to the side and saw Yue's eyes widen, but quickly regained her composure.
"Wentai, nice to meet you," Li Yue greeted, falsely bright. She locked eyes with Shang, briefly engaged in a silent battle. A seismic shift in mood in the air was palpable. "I am Madam Yue, Li Shang's… well...mother," she stated calmly, but the dangerous glint in her eyes spoke otherwise.
"Are you sure you have no additional explanation about this?" Li Yue turned back to Shang. The look of her eyes was searing with anger and betrayal, and...hurt. You are lying, that look said. You are hiding something from me, just like your father.
Li Shang sighed and decided to use the oldest and most effective method of deflection in his arsenal. "I reassure you, Mother. Nothing happened out there." He shot a pointed glance at Mulan, and she took the gesture as asking for her approval, so she nodded and supportively ushered the boy inside.
"Do you want to see your new room?" Mulan chimed in, scooting next to the boy, and asked kindly. She was half hoping that the boy couldn't recognize her face without mentally excavating her thick layer of makeup. It seemed like her days of waking up uncaring of her appearance seemed to have ended prematurely. She had to keep her disguise in front of two people now, not just one.
For a blink, there was a hint of familiarity rose in his eyes when he heard her voice. But he quickly realized it must've been a mistake. The person named Ping was a man, dressed like a man, and fought like a man. And Mulan, albeit sounded the same, was a woman and acted like one. So, he shrunk. His little fingers dug into Shang's trousers. "No."
"I have sweets, would you like to try some?" The boy didn't buy that, so Mulan tried a different tactic. "Do you like dogs? I have one; his name is Little Brother," she cajoled, hoping to chase away the boy's initial apprehension. She clicked her tongue, and out of nowhere, the dog came racing toward them.
"Do you want to come in and pet him?" That seemed to boy him over, so Mulan persisted. "He has fluffy hair, and you two can be best friends."
That night Wentai ran with a fever, so Mulan volunteered to sit on a vigil to make sure he was fine. Shang had gladly accepted the offer, especially after two lags of long journeys from Shandong and Chang'an, he figured rest would do him good.
"Do you need help, Madam?" rasped Mei Lan, kneeling close where Mulan was next to Wentai's bedstead and taking a good look at the boy's sleeping form. "Doesn't he look a bit like Master Shang?". Mulan supposed it was a bait, because when your husband came home from the battlefront with a child, any sensible wife would jump to the same conclusion.
"I suppose all little boys look adorable in their sleep," Mulan replied, smiling at her to let her know she trusted her husband's report. End of story.
"You know, I've been taking care of children since I was fourteen."
"You should've retired," Mulan told her. "Don't you miss your children? Or your relatives?"
"I do," she smiled. "But...they've all grown. Besides, Madam Yue needs me here."
Mulan nodded. "I'm sure she is grateful."
General Li had always been responsible but distant. Deep down, he loved his family, but he's Li Jiang who swore his life to China, spent 12 hours a day training, and forgot to say 'I love you'.
Eventually, he went. After all, Li Jiang was a soldier at heart, and he went where the war was. And Mei Lan, after the visceral reminder that life, even for an aged woman like her, was finite—that she returned to work for the Li.
Seeing that bearing arms was the only way to earn his father's approval, Shang joined him. At sixteen, the boy was trying so hard to be a man who never saw how much his parents loved him.
But then time passed, years dragged by into a decade and Mei Lan watched as Shang turned into the worst version of his father—more closed-off and unfeeling. Although his relationship with Li Jiang improved—thanks to wordless exchange while wielding their swords—Shang had almost no emotional connection with anyone.
I won't let it happen to you; she promised as she dabbed Wentai's forehead with a cold cloth to keep the boy's fever at bay. She didn't realize how tired she was from her journey home four days ago, not until her bladder alarmed her for a nature call.
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking blearily as the unfamiliar layout of the room came into view. It was dark, only the muted light from the solitary candle by the desk casting the light into the room. Mulan realized that she had been cocooned in something soft, warm, and scented like the noodle dinner she served, combined with her soap but with a slight twist of masculinity.
On the second assessment, she realized Shang's robe was the culprit.
He must have wrapped it around her when she was asleep.
The man in question was sitting behind his bureau a few paces away. Straightening up, she saw his side profile, looking solemn as he was reading a scroll.
At the sight of him reclining there, loosening his sash and rolling his robe sleeve up, she was instantly taken back to the nights when he kept her company while she was recovering. Those late nights had been when Shang's presence had started to seem less awful, and before she knew it, the feelings had come creeping in: the feelings she was doing her best to keep a lid on so that they could return to the battlefield as if nothing had happened. So that they could hang out as friends.
"Mulan?" His voice caught her off guard. "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"No... " she muttered, wobbling a little when she stood up. "What are you doing this late?"
"Oh, I went in to check on Wentai and found you sitting on the floor with a wet cloth on your hand." He approached and scooted next to her, a respectable distance apart.
She looked down and immediately became conscious of herself at the sight of the lustful red sleeping robe that still clung albeit haphazardly around her figure, not that Shang showed any sort of appreciation or reaction to her effort. But, she had already predicted that part.
She pulled the robe in an attempt to restore some modesty, "I'm sorry. I was exhausted."
His eyes glossed over her from top to bottom. He didn't smile, but the sympathy and gratitude in his eyes were unmistakable.
"Why don't you go sleep on the bed, I'll stay here with Wentai to make sure he is fine."
"No, Shang. You must be exhausted from your long journey. I can't let you do this," Mulan opposed. Although admittedly, Shang's proposal sounded more lucrative by the minutes. He looked at her and perhaps began noticing the ever-prominent black circle around her bloodshot eyes, her astonishingly messy hair, and her lip paint that smeared all over the place.
"Okay," he replied gently. He took a few pillows and a blanket from their bed, arranging them on the floor. He grabbed a few scrolls from his desk before scooting down and giving her cue by patting the spot on his shoulder.
"What?" she was bewildered, not believing what the gesture suggested.
"Seemed like you need more sleep than I need my shoulder," he said candidly as he resumed his reading.
It took Mulan a few seconds to register what he asked before nodding awkwardly. The mixture of lack of sleep and fatigue had made her logic muddled because the next thing she did was to crawl into his embrace and lay her head on his chest.
Oh, how she craved the feel of his shoulder, feeling his hair tickling her forehead and smelling the whiff of his woodsy scent. She had been daydreaming about doing this with him, sitting and enjoying each other's company.
They stayed like that in silence until Shang called her. "Oh yes, I have something for you," he said, handing the scroll.
Mulan did her best to feign that euphoric reaction as though she didn't know what it was. "Oh, my very own copy of Sun Tzu battle stratagem!" She looked up at him. He was so close. It would be such a small thing to reach out and curl her hand around his… or kiss his cheek. She had no doubt this was what an ordinary wife would do. But she told herself not to embroil too much on sentimental things because none of them knew what tomorrow might hold. So, instead, she put on the most sincere smile and said, "Thank you, Shang."
He responded in kind. His hands were softly brushing her hair away from her face before cradling her cheeks, his thumbs gently stroking her skin. She gulped then, surprised at the lustful burn in his eyes. She couldn't hold back the shiver when his cold lips pressed against her neck, her eyes shuttering closed.
"Shang," she tried again, hoping to convince him to leave her alone.
Her sleepiness evaporated when his warm tongue swept over her skin, and she felt him smile, completely aware of the power he held over her body.
"Shang, I can't…"
He snapped from his trance.
"I'm… I'm sorry." The heat and burning passion from earlier was gone entirely, but his gaze was just as intense. There was something different, something she didn't recognize, but she was unable to look away.
"I don't know what will come over me," he said a little sheepishly.
"That's okay. One of us has to be the proactive one….Or all newlyweds will end up playing xiangqi the whole night."
"Wait, you want to play xiangqi? Right now?"
"No," Mulan chuckled. "I mean….you are always way ahead of me in this department. I'm totally clueless."
"What do you mean?" he cocked his head. Did she mention bewildered Shang also looked irresistibly adorable?
"This seduction business," she finally managed to spell out. "You have practiced it somewhere else, haven't you?"
"Oh," he said with a little voice, rubbing the back of his neck. "You got me there."
It was the answer she expected, but it didn't make her less surprised. "When?" She tried not to choke on her tongue. Although given the level of proficiency he exhibited, she knew he wasn't a sex novice. But somehow, the naive part of her still hoped Shang was an innocent virgin as much as she was.
He smiled, looking at her utterly horrified face. "No. Fa Mulan, in case you are wondering, I haven't slept around looking for knowledge."
"Then?"
He put down his scroll to his side and began. "Back in my father's temporary accommodation in Chang'an, there was this girl who lived next door to us, always dressed in a pastel hue, with flowers screaming all over her. I was ten at that time. At first, like many other boys, I have no interest in befriending a girl, especially one that potentially would braid your man bun."
Mulan couldn't hide her grin. "What changed your mind?"
"It was a compound for military family…., and boys automatically dominated the playground."
"Were there no other girls living nearby?"
"Not many," he said. "And most of them were sent to etiquette school. They would stay there for months and only come home during the Lunar festival."
"But she wasn't?"
"No… her mother was often ill and her father was away for work a lot. It makes sense for the children to stay at home helping to do the house chores."
Mulan smiled, heartwarming. It was hard to imagine Shang sat at tea parties or having his toenails painted red, but this was Shang in a nutshell—a kind, compassionate heart encased in a cold, steel-like appearance.
"So?"
"So..." He cleared his throat, resuming. "One day, we were playing hide and seek, and I decided to hide inside one of the bedroom wardrobes. I didn't know whose room it was until her eighteen-year-old sister came home, dragging a man with her, locking the bedroom door, and dove straight to the bed."
Mulan chuckled, elbowing him lightly. "No wonder you are an expert. You've learned early."
"But you are a fast learner.". His dark eyes were staring at her with an expression she couldn't quite place, but she could feel her cheeks turning red.
"Are you two still in touch?" She scrambled for more pedestrian topics.
Shang shrugged. "No. We moved away to this house. We tried to write to each other, but one day my letter was returned. Apparently, she left the military barrack after her father was killed during a mission to eradicate a rebel group down south." He stared at her again with the same intriguing expression that made her heart beat a pace faster. "Anyway, I think you better sleep," he said, patting the spot on his shoulder.
She swallowed. "What….what about you?"
"I'll be sleeping soon, I need to finish one more of this," he showed her the scroll.
She nodded, hesitantly placing her head on his chest, quietly indulging in the comforting timbre of his heartbeat.
"Mulan. Can I…. can I ask you a favor?" he asked, somewhat hesitatingly.
"Of course."
"I know you have to take care of your Grandma and your father... and perhaps my mother, but...can you," he swallowed before continuing. "...make sure someone is taking care of Wentai?"
Shang was never the explicit one in their relationship, and he only made his wish verbally known only if it was necessary. Did the thought of mortality keep him awake and out here, silent and still and his head buzzing with unsorted thoughts? The fear of never returning? Of failing the country or dying on the battlefield? Mulan felt the question press at the back of her teeth.
"I promise," she said, forcing a smile at him even when her heart twisted just imagining her losing him. "I will care for him just like…. he is our own."
"Thank you," he said, eyes glazed with relief.
Because if anyone could understand a soldier best—it was his brother-in-arms.
Mulan found herself splaying on a pile of blankets and robes in the morning. In the distance, she heard Shang's voice running his regimented kung fu drill. How on earth he could still function with such little sleep was a mystery to her.
There was a floor-length mirror on the inside of the door, and she stepped up to it, brushing her hair away and checking her "burn." Reaching up, she traced a finger over the dark red staining her fair skin, warmth spreading through her body as she recalled the feeling of him marking her. It still caught her by surprise whenever she saw the desire in his eyes that made their usual shade of brown darken.
"So…" came a familiar voice. From the reflection in her mirror, Mulan saw her little sidekick jump up to her bed. "You two ended up on the floor?"
Mulan pretended to pay her sole attention to the pile of Shang's clothing that needed pressing, but the Dragon wasn't about to give up until he had the explanation he wanted. "I came earlier this morning. But it seemed like you both were still enjoying cuddling each other in your sleep, so I excuse myself."
"We don't like the bed," Mulan replied tersely.
"Okay, fine. But, did you not...?"
"No," Mulan answered quickly. "Wentai was down with a fever. So we both took turns to watch him by his bed."
Mushu's pinched expression nearly made Mulan laugh if it wasn't because she knew what was in his mind. This morning, when the Dragon found them on the floor together with a pile of cushions, Shang had abandoned his sleeping robe, and her hair looked like there was a tornado in the house. And by the look of her makeup on Shang's robe, there must have been an intense making-out scene for it to happen.
"How come your make-up on his shirt?"
"I was leaning on him while I slept; it must have been rubbed unconsciously."
"But he was bare-chested this morning."
"The room was getting hot and humid, so he took off his clothes," Mulan said warily.
"Hot and humid?" The way he punctuated the words made meant he didn't really mean the temperature of the room.
Mulan sighed. "Ok, fine. We slept together. It was phenomenal. We broke the bed and moved to the floor. Wentai woke up, disturbed by all the noises we made, happy now?"
Mushu sighed, rolling his eyes. "So, your effort wearing that sexy red underwear boils down to nothing then?"
"I don't mind," Mulan quipped casually. "Perhaps red isn't my lucky color."
Altan cast her sight on the horizon, the orange hue of the sun drew a beautiful silhouette of pagodas and tall buildings in the distance. The Forbidden City was within her sight.
"Want some?" came the voice between undignified burps from her side. Timur was eating heartily, digging into any piece of edible objects inside their sacks.
"I honestly think you shouldn't eat all of our leftover food at once," she reprimanded, snatching the sack from his hand.
"Considering this… might be our last dinner, Princess. I think I am entirely entitled to eat the world!" With one sure movement, he snatched back the sack and resumed his feast. "It's fine if you want to look after your figure. More for me then."
She stared at him, suddenly realizing she wasn't just putting her life on the wager, but his too. "You… you seriously think we won't come out of this alive?"
He stopped munching, staring back at her. "If I am lucky enough to be spared, that would be a bonus," and an impish grin appeared on his face. "Because I would have a chance to see you wear that night…—"
"Shut it!" It felt almost like punching a solid wall when she punched his forearm. But Timur managed to fake a yelp of agony—a really... really fake yelp of agony. "What's that for?"
"This is not the time to joke around!" she chastised.
"Ok fine," he said, putting his serious face on. "I've asked Batu to take care of Sanale. That's me sorted out. Any other question?"
"I..— " Altan stumbled on her retort. Sanale was Timur's mare. And as a sworn Hun warrior, she was his only possession and treasure. Had Timur really envisioned this as his last mission when he agreed to help her?
"Ok, let's get going."
She remained unresponsive until he waved his hand in front of him, shaking his head good-naturedly. "C'mon Princess, focus. We have a war to win."
Unceremoniously, he licked his fingers and slung the pack over his shoulder. She watched him march purposefully in front of her, humming some random hunting song as he went as if his own life and death didn't concern him.
Father, why do you give him a terrible ability to charm? She thought, trailing behind him.
Because the Khan would train his warrior to be courageous, brave, and charismatic. He'd raised him to be loyal and devoted—to understand the deep meaning of love and sacrifice. Her father's heart wasn't broken in those days. But he had not raised her to be courageous and loving like he once was, at least not after her mother died. He had raised her to be bitter like he'd become.
Something solid hard hit her face. She ran into his sack face first. Timur had stopped dead on the edge of the road. "Hey, why did you stop…—"
But she stopped short when she, too, saw red staining the snow.
That afternoon Li Yue summoned Mulan to the private reception room in her quarter. Mulan felt an unpleasant twist invading her stomach. What had she done wrong to displease her mother-in-law that she deserved to be castigated privately in her chamber?
Mulan showed up on time, of course, considering how agitated the Li matriarch was that her son suddenly went home from a war with a child that looked less than appealing than a stray kitten.
The grand-looking woman poised regally in front of the mahogany table, kneeling stiffly as she distracted herself from looking at the mural hung on the wall of her room that had been there as long as Mulan remembered.
"Excuse me, Mama Yue?" Mulan alerted the woman of her presence. Li Yue gave her a commanding nod, an invitation to sit. Mulan obediently deposited herself on the opposite side of the table, immediately remembering her place, and offered Li Yue to serve her some tea. The tension in the room gradually dissolved as both women cradled their brew between their fingers and sipped them quietly.
"How's your father?" She began with small talk.
"He is very well, thank you," Mulan replied politely. "Although he is missing my mother a lot."
"Good to know there is a good man left. I don't mean to ruin the sentiment, but honestly, how long could they stay without a woman on the battlefront? You see him yourself, he came home suddenly with a son in his arms."
Mulan opened her mouth, but the thoughts of General Li, coming home without warning after a long absence on a battlefront with a child. What if Shang came home with his illegitimate child with someone she knew? How would she respond? Mulan didn't really know.
"Has no one in this house told you? Or perhaps your inquisitive mind has concluded the cause of tension in my household?" she said, half-stated, half-asked.
Mulan mutely nodded. The scandal was both common knowledge and a secret in the Li household. She breathed the steam of her tea, drawing warmth to placate the uneasiness that crept on her posture. She never liked to discuss personal matters with her mother-in-law. Her appellant 'Mama' clearly was just a title.
"I have bereft twice. Once, when my husband allegedly entangled with my sister, and twice, when she died. As much as you resent me for training you sternly to be a good wife, I hope you took my advice on this one—don't let this child ruin your household, just take him to the local orphanage."
"Mama Yue..." Mulan was about to ensconce the woman with words of sympathy, but Li Yue was too far engrossed in winning the battle of viewpoints.
"Mulan…" Her voice patronized her. And being the unfailingly polite daughter-in-law and exemplary wife she wanted to be, Mulan clamped her mouth shut and listened. "Whether Shang had caused the mess or someone else did, throwing an illegitimate child into this is like adding fuel to the fire. And you are the one who will get burnt. Just like I did. I can't believe you agree with him without even putting him on a questioning line or discussing anything with him," she lectured articulately while pinning Mulan with her piercing glance.
Mulan internally wrestled with the desire to interrupt and explained. She wanted to tell Li Yue that Shang didn't lie about the boy's mother. She wanted to tell her about the hurt look in Shang's eyes, and how his heart went out to the orphaned boy. But she soon realized she couldn't do so without divulging her secret identity.
"I understand, but Shang needs...—" your help, Mulan wanted to say. The child had nowhere to go, and in both Mulan and Shang's absence, Li Yue was their only hope.
"This scenario happened before, Mulan!" Li Yue fiercely clipped her answer. Mulan immediately knew there was no way she could reason the situation logically with her obstinate mother-in-law. But how could she be a selfish beast to guard her own feelings at the expense of a homeless child? A pang of anger rise in Mulan's chest.
"Are you saying you've regretted raising Shang?" she said, unwittingly sharp. If there was any sympathy she had, it would be for Shang, the helpless victim of this tragedy.
Her direct accusation sparked something within her—as an ember tossed onto a trail of gunpowder. Li Yue rose to her feet; eyes flared with anger. "Victim? Is that what you think he is?" she laughed humourlessly. "What do you call me then? What do you call a woman who had raised the bastard child of her husband's lover?"
Mulan was taken aback. "Mama Yue, I don't mean…—"
"This is karma," she cut her. "Shang is repaying his mother's fault because she shattered my husband!"
Mulan looked at her. This was the part of the story she didn't know. Her side of the story. "I thought… Shang's mo…—I mean Ms. Xia—was your….sister," she said, unsure whether she should pursue this conversation.
She laughed again, bitterly. "Some sister that she is," she scoffed and there was silence. She looked through the window. Her eyes were far away and hollow. "She destroyed him," she rasped. "His heart has not stopped aching for her in these twenty-six years. Every day...I watch him and see the limp in his soul, and know there is nothing—nothing—I can do to heal him. Jiang spent the best of his youth and love on her! And in return, she left him with ashes. She left me with ashes!"
"I am willing to try anything. I cherished him, obeyed him….raised his child, even if it meant forsaking my happiness and my future... because he is my husband and I love him. What little I've had of him. What little she had left of him. She had Li Jiang, the favor of our father…. and….—. I am aware she was far more beautiful, clever and witty than I ever was. Yet she threw all those away! Everything I stand for, she squandered!" she nearly roared. "Now think again, who is the victim?"
"I'm… I'm sorry. I don't know you've…. suffered so much."
Li Yue blinked, the piercing look in her eyes softening. And she exhaled resignedly. "I just don't want you to get hurt," she said, reaching Mulan's hand and giving it a melancholic squeeze.
Just like you did. Mulan finished in her thought, imagining Li Yue who had to raise a child that was conceived out of wedlock, a constant reminder of her husband's unfaithfulness. But did a man, as noble and honest as General Li capable of this level of unhonorable deceit? How could he possibly live with himself knowing he had betrayed his own wife?
It's not an unhonorable thing to love someone, objected the voice in her head. Wife or mistress, she knew for a fact how difficult it was to harness one's feelings, to direct and command them in a certain direction. General Li had his heart anchored elsewhere, and it was impossible for him to remove its chain even if he wanted to.
"My greatest mistake is to make Jiang everything to me," she added with a small, regretful voice, knowing there was no way of rehabilitating the heart of a man who was madly in love. "That's how you ended up….broken."
"But Shang isn't a type who…—"
"Cheat?" Li Yue finished for her, clicking her tongue rather condescendingly before continuing.
"Actually, I'd wish to discuss this with you, before my indomitable son brought in that stray cat and distracted my focus. Here is the reason why I summoned you here: I've heard a strange rumor about Shang, but I am a little hesitant to share it with you."
Mulan raised her brows. Li Yue had accused Shang of accidentally impregnating a woman and now she wanted to incriminate him for some other transgression? She remembered her misunderstanding of Meihui and regretted she had her heart before her head to accuse Shang of infidelity. She definitely won't repeat the same mistake twice.
"How so?"
"Because of the… nature," Li Yue replied vaguely. Mulan cocked her head, utterly bewildered. "Have you discussed this matter with Shang himself?"
"No... because I doubt he will admit it," the woman said. "He wasn't as conventional as I believed him to be….especially when it came to sate his manly needs."
"I don't think I want to know whether he did in his encampment as long as he still came home," Mulan countered, wrinkling her nose.
"I used to think that way," Li Yue said solemnly. "But ignorance won't solve your marital problems; it will only shove them under the bed."
"Has he…. Harbored interest with another woman?" Mulan suggested the next most logical guess. It was supremely unlikely and really out of Shang's character to even consider a serious romantic relationship like taking another wife before consulting his father or other family members. Moreso, Mulan was physically there with him, and she knew for a record Shang's whereabouts during the so-called episode of "suspected liaison". Despite Shang's admirable quality of intellect with handsomeness to match (and after her misjudgment of his relationship with Meihui), she highly doubted her husband was capable of discreetly disguising his romantic fling under the scrutiny of his trainee and the hawk-eyed Emperor's councilor.
"No," Li Yue replied succinctly. "Worse than a woman to be concise," she added glibly.
Then Mulan understood why Li Yue preferred to confront her with the topic instead because the nature of the discussion would invariably invite a slew of snide remarks or hurtful insinuations about Shang's sexual orientation. But she decided to play dumb and completely oblivious to whatever she was insinuating.
"Is that so?" she countered innocently.
"Yes. In fact, he was a man under Shang's command, worse still…," Li Yue paused for dramatic effect. "He is your brother."
Mulan was sure Li Yue had practiced the climactic revelation of Shang's carnal affair, it was so powerful it nearly sent her tea down the wrong way.
As soon as she dealt with the spillage on the table, she met her mother-in-law's eyes which seemed to be satisfied to be the bearer of the disreputable news. For the love of ancestors, this confirmed that Li Yue was a cold-blooded gossiper.
"You mean… Fa Ping? Shang had an affair with him?" Mulan blurted in disbelief. But the more she thought about it, the funnier the situation became.
"Yes, previously there was a rumor of Shang favoring the little brother of yours in his training. But no concrete evidence had prevailed to suggest they share a special bond other than brotherhood. Until Ping was devastatingly injured in an ambush. A witness said that Shang insisted on having him in his tent and your brother didn't object to the invitation!" She launched into a long explanation with a voice of disdain. "Do you know what this implies, Mulan? God knows what kind of savage tryst is happening inside!" exclaimed Li Yue.
Oh well, Mulan knew precisely what had happened inside Shang's tent. Did the rumor also state the Captain accidentally cuddled Ping? An irrepressible grin swept her face—which she tried to have under control by biting her lips.
Now it was Li Yue's turn to be puzzled, noticing a glimpse of a smug smirk her daughter-in-law fought to hide. She just broke the devastating news about Shang's shocking entanglement with a man, no less Mulan's brother, and Mulan looked exuberant more than displeased. Perhaps the girl was insane like her grandmother.
"Something tickles your nerve, Dear? I saw you smiling."
"Oh, forgive me, Mama Yue," Mulan averted her gaze to the floor, belying politeness. She didn't want her mother-in-law to discover that she was still the same appalling, unrefined daughter-in-law who became acclimated to cross-dressing as a man. Even worse, every time she saw tomato in the market, her immediate thought was about bow and arrow rather than cooking recipes.
After schooling her face to carry a carefully-constructed somber expression, Mulan met Li Yue's gaze. "What do I need to do then—in your opinion?" Mulan said, thinking of a phrase that would inspire minimal interrogation on her part. And Li Yue's countenance spontaneously brightened. Crisis avoided momentarily.
"I reckon you have to remind Shang more of his vowed commitment towards you, make his attention rooted to you."
Mulan stared back dubiously which Li Yue interpreted as a demand for a more descriptive explanation. "Please him in bed, Mulan. Give him a son - that will be the best defensive weapon in your arsenal. And Shang would be forever yours."
Mulan had heard similar phrases said by many women. A lot of them thought that giving an heir would work as a passageway to their husband's hearts. But believing didn't make it true.
And Mulan knew from firsthand experience that she didn't need a son to get Shang's approval, to win his affection.
Simply because Ping had achieved this.
The caravan, or what was left of it, lay flattened against the snow. Overturned huts slumped over ransacked sleds, and everywhere was littered with blood. People, all different sizes, lay mutilated, melting little crimson lakes into the snow.
"This is fresh," Altan remarked, examining one of the bodies beside her. "Whoever did this is nearby."
Timur snickered. "Are you scared? "Don't worry Princess, I'll protect you." He turned to the wreckage and lifted a panel of the hut to take a better look.
She rolled her eyes. "Thank you for being my knight in shining armor."
"Oh, so you…—" He stopped short, bent to look closer to see what he had found there. "My sweet ancestor."
Altan rushed to his side. "What is it?" He looked up at her, eyes wide and bewildered, and moved to the side so she could see.
Lying beneath was a middle-aged man, mangled, but still very much alive. He coughed, expelling more blood into the puddle at his mouth.
"Hand me the drink," she whispered to Timur.
Timur searched his bag, muttering, "I much rather put him out of misery a.s.a.p."
Altan couldn't resist scoffing, "Could we at least offer him a drink before the mercy kill?"
"Yes… yes, I know," and handed her the canteen. "What I'm saying….Don't get too attached."
The labored laugh interrupted their dialogue. "He ain't wrong, Sweetheart. I'm well on my way, but I'll take a bit of water."
Timur knelt beside the man and gently lifted his head, holding the drink to his lips. "Not your day, is it, Sir?"
"No, never been….my day, Son," he heaved, blinking his tired eyes as he observed Timur for a few silent moments before remarking, "You ain't from 'round here, aren't you?"
"Huns… we are Huns warriors," Altan said, making Timur stare wide-eyed at her unfiltered answer in front of a Chinese man.
To their surprise, the man gave them a smirk. "I've guessed you are."
"So...care to tell me what happened to you?" Timur jumped to the line before Altan told another honest truth about them, or worse… about their plan.
The man began to cough and Altan reflexively pulled out the canteen. "Would you like more water?"
"Do you have….wine?" he rasped.
"In fact, I do," Timur said, and suddenly a bottle of fine wine came out of the depth of his pocket.
"So that's where you wasted your hard-earned money," Altan whispered to him wryly.
"If you must now, Princess. I'm planning to share it with you on a cold night," Timur replied, giving her a private, mischievous grin. "But I'll share it with this old man instead. He's a tad more appreciative."
"Oh… a good man. A good man and his princess," the man said, grinning candidly when he saw Altan turn red.
Timur pretended he didn't notice, instead, helping the man with one serving of wine. "Anyway, you are saying?"
"Ah yes," he smacked his lips appreciatively. "I was... a mercenary, paid to kill… for money. But the authority—they caught me… and threatened to hang me. I went—I asked for help from this Mongols gang, but later… they blackmailed me into their unit."
"You must be good," Timur commented. "I heard the Mongols only press-ganged the worthy."
The old man smiled at the compliment before resuming his story. "Mongol gang… took all these girls as slaves….I might be a criminal. But I am still human. I tried to…—I wanted to free them. Let 'em get back home to their home. They didn't—deserve… no one deserves what they were… doin' to them,'' he stammered. "I broke us free. Whoever wanted to… come with me. But the gang caught up with us, and I couldn't do..." he gestured to the carnage and began to weep. "They… they let me live to see the slaughter."
Altan hadn't examined them closely, but upon her second assessment, she noticed all of them were wearing hanfus. They were Chinese women, perhaps sold as sex slaves to the Huns soldiers.
"Where are these Mongols?" Timur enquired. "Perhaps we could track them down."
"No, Son… they ain't worth your time," he said. "They have a massive network. Lots of friends and all. And I…. I just… I love every one of these girls." His voice was vibrating with sorrow. "They are kind to me."
"You are a good man," Altan said to him brokenly. "You tried to save them."
"No. They are dead!" he barked and began to hack again. "This is…. This is my punishment...for living such a wicked life."
"But that's not all. You have shown them kindness…. Even when it cost you… your life."
"I deserve hell…" he continued to weep.
Altan took his hand, "Listen to me. Anyone could be forgiven…. Especially a selfless one like you. And we," she turned to Timur. But the man beside her wasn't looking at the dying man. Timur was staring at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. Was that astonishment? Admiration? Or….
Unwilling to let her heart analyze the situation further, she turned her attention to the man. "We will light a candle for you, and….send you prayer. I'm sure the spirit of your ancestor will understand."
They buried Lin-Feng under the ironwood trees that grew by the almost frozen stream.
"I think we better go now," Timur said, watching the sun nearly disappear behind the horizon. "Or we'll be late for our last leg of the journey."
"But we haven't prayed yet. I promised him," she said, stacking a few round stones into a makeshift altar. "Is the least we can do."
"Fine," Timur huffed as he flunked their sack on the ground. And he left to gather firewood without saying much.
He must have only been away for a few minutes when suddenly she heard a loud crack and a shriek of horror in a distance.
Instead of firewood, Timur returned with two injured girls in his arms. One had a broken leg, and the other, an arrow wound in the arm. But they were the lucky ones.
"You seriously think I am going to eat you?" Timur told one of the girls when she tried to bite him as he tried to treat her wound.
"Lin-Feng would be glad if he knew some of you make it," Altan told them as she handed some soup. They looked at each other hesitantly before deciding there was not much choice than to risk trusting these strangers rather than die an agonizingly slow death in the cold, wintry night. "We buried him there," she gestured towards the altar.
"You can be polite and start by stating your name," Timur prompted.
"Do I have to?" objected the younger one of the two.
"What option do you have? Or shall I say I'll make you my breakfast?"
"I'm Suying," the older girl intervened quickly. "And she is Xin. I've known Lin-Feng for… years. He is very kind and generous. He would… he would make sure we have enough to eat. He sometimes took us to the market so we can indulge in a little bit of shopping," she said, wiping her tears quickly and taking a glance at the younger girl. "But Xin, she is new."
Reflexively, Xin pulled out a piece of fabric from her pocket and offered it to her teary friend. And Altan noticed the silk fabric adorned with exquisite royal insignia.
"Xin… where did you get that?"
"Oh, you mean this?" The young woman said somewhat proudly as she waved the material. "The Prince of Wei gave it to me when he stayed in our residence. We are…. friends."
"Friends?" Timur said with enough indecent sarcasm implied.
"My father used to work in the Palace," she expounded, glaring towards Timur even though seconds later she quickly reconsidered her action. "So...I was on my way to the Forbidden Palace when I was taken away. The Harem invited me to enlist as the courtesan."
"Oh… fresh blood," Timur snickered.
"Aren't you a bit too young to be the Emperor's concubine?" Altan couldn't hide her curiosity. She thought her father was the only ruler crazy enough to seek to wed a woman half his age, even when it was done in the name of peace. How hypocritical of the Chinese ruler if they condemn her father yet secretly approve the same practice behind the closed door.
The young woman laughed rather coyly. "No. I'll be trained for a few years, learning rules and ropes. And hopefully, when I graduate, I'll be ready for the next Emperor."
The rest of the night passes with relative ease, despite the initial thread of antipathy that seems to have woven itself between them. Suying thanked Altan and Timur for the dinner before urging them to have a rest as well.
"You are not afraid that I'm going to eat you too?" Timur said as he helped her to climb into the cave where all of them would spend the night.
"You saved us," Suying put it simply, smiling at him.
"In your people's vocabulary, we are the baddies," he pointed out.
"...who is kind enough to give a respectable burial for his enemy," she explained. "You might look menacing, but under that bulk of muscle and hair….you are human too…. Who is capable of kindness and… love."
He shook his head, chuckling. "...so tacky."
"I know right? But you are tacky enough to like her," she blurted. And he froze.
"What?"
"Eyes never lied. I saw the way you look at her." Suying's grinned widened, and she leaned over and whispered. "Near-death encounters tend to bring out the spontaneity in people for some reason."
"Little lady, we are not encountering any life and death situation. I told you, she is a merchant, I am her bodyguard."
"Oh well, false hunch then." Suying eyed the Princess who was a safe distance away by the fire, talking to Xin. "But you should tell her that."
"You are a love expert are you?" he scoffed. "You worked in a brothel. You slept with random men. What do you know?"
"I'm sorry if this sounded patronizing," she replied patiently. "I was in love too, once, long ago." And she smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.
Timur pretended hard not to listen.
"He left….and perhaps now happily married to… someone else. But I don't regret ever falling for him. You don't choose who you fall in love with. It just happens... Sometimes the person you fall in love with is the same person you're running away from. Sometimes the person you fall in love with doesn't love you back the way you want them to… Sometimes the person you are in love with loves someone else… And yet, you still continue to love them."
"Oh whatever," Timur waved his hand in a universal gesture of dismissal before turning to his own bedroll to sleep.
Earlier that day Xiongnu had summoned Master Peng, the head of Palace Intelligence, and given him the warrant to go through General Li Jiang's personal stuff that was left in his barrack in the palace.
"Your Excellency, these are what you've requested," Master Peng announced as he displayed a collection of scrolls in his hand.
"Place it inside my bed-chamber," he commanded. "Now, tell all the guards to leave me alone and no maid should come into this room," he added. "I want to do my research in peace."
He rushed to close the door behind him with a muted click.
Slowly, he approached the table, hands trembling as he pulled the string that bound the old journal. Fear, curiosity, and trepidation jumbled together.
What was the use if he knew what his General had done in the past? It was not that he could rewrite history and undo his doing. But it was also part of human nature to seek the truth, even when it would rip their heart to shreds.
It didn't take him long to confirm his fears.
His head was spinning, his chest was aching as if it had been stabbed open by a dagger.
Li Jiang, why does it have to be you?
How could his General—his beloved, trustworthy Li Jiang who had saved him on the battlefront a dozen times over, who was praised for his fabled loyalty—have a gut to plan this humiliating misconduct behind his back?
You have dozens of flawless sheep and took one and only lamb from a poor, helpless shepherd. How could you condemn him for what he'd done? The voice of his conscience demanded.
He was riddled with questions and shock from the revelation that he overlooked figures that went past behind him.
Turning around, he felt a horrible tingling fear come over him when he saw a shadow wrapped in black stand an arm's length from him.
"Who are you?"
He grabbed his sword, but an arrow averted his grip. Great, this assailant was not alone, another one was at the far end of the room. He took a dagger out of his robe's pocket and planned to skilfully ambush the closest offender. But this man had anticipated and blocked his attack with his sword.
"Guard!" he alerted, as he tried to hold his position, defending himself from two attackers. He heard rushed footfalls in the corridor and immediately the two mercenaries prepared to abscond from the scene.
They were heading towards the window and he managed to capture the garment of one of the felons. She shrieked in surprise as he pinned her on the nearby wall. He took his dagger, ready to end her life. But something hooked into his robe and into his chest….
But he didn't stop, even when there was a piercing pain through his chest to his spine. He was determined to run after them.
"Your Majesty…!" He heard the guards' collective gasp as they saw what was on the floor. "Wait! Your Majesty!"
He stopped short when he, too, saw streaks of red running on the floor.
It's been a week since Shang was home with Wentai and it's been a week since Mulan unexpectedly bore the role of a mother.
Although she never readily admitted it, she liked that they'd fallen into the groove of her life. She liked waking up with someone else on her bed and hearing Wentai's piping voice chattering over breakfast. It was laughably domestic, but strangely she didn't resent it as much as she did before, in fact, quite the opposite. Perhaps life under the ruthless training regime had given her the perspective. Or perhaps Wentai's arrival had lightened everyone's mood… well, most of the people anyway.
Somehow in a span of one week, they'd gone from unlikely strangers—whose circumstances had pulled them into living under the same roof—to something akin to a real family.
She let her eyes fall closed again, trying to hold onto the last bits of sleep, goodness knows she needed it before returning to the battlefront. Her thoughts drifted to yesterday and the conversation she'd had in the room with her mother-in-law, about Shang's secret crush on his own comrades.
Should she feel jealous? Angry? Thrilled? Proud even? She wasn't sure.
She heard his familiar footsteps entering the room. She willed herself not to respond until she felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder.
"Oh!" Mulan said in surprise when she saw him standing in only his towel, mere inches away from her face. He seemed to realize and recoiled, the stern mask fell back into his face. Stern...and mostly naked.
"Did I….scare you?" There was no apologetic smile, just a slight raise of a brow and she gulped as she watched a droplet of water dripping from his hair and slide down his chest and then following the cut lines of his abs, disappearing where the white towel was poorly tied off around his waist.
He's shirtless—of course, of course! The intimacy of it, the sight of his familiar warrior's body in this unfamiliar man and wife context, the glow of his skin in the low light of their bedroom, the towel that hung low…. —it's overwhelming.
"I just came in to let you know I'm done using the bathroom," he said simply.
"Yeah, uh…." Mulan shook her head to try and refocused. "S-sure. I will do that. Take a shower, I mean. I'll go….—" she swung her legs over the side of the bed and grabbed her bathing robe off the chair. Pointing a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the bathroom, she backed away from Shang, who was still standing there, hands on his hips...his incredibly sharp hips where the definitely-not-large-enough towel was slung low enough that she could see the trail of hair leading from his navel to his..—
"Mulan!" he yelped when she backed onto the leg of the bed and went tumbling to the floor. She winced, taking a moment to just lay there on the floor and basked in her embarrassment. "You...you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just gonna go take that shower now," she huffed, pushing herself up off the ground and pointedly ignoring the hand he has reached out to her. "And try not to embarrass myself in the process," she muttered to herself under her breath as she walked away.
"Are you sure?" he persisted. "I probably should have a look, it may have brui…—"
"I'm fine," she said with an unconvincing grin and sped to the door in a blitz.
After the shower, she'd hastily slipped into her purple ruqun, wearing a gold sash around her waist like armor. Her newly adopted son, meanwhile, had not stirred the entire time she was dressing. The boy was still snoring lightly, face down, cradled in the tender embrace of at least half a dozen pillows. Truthfully, she was glad Shang had made the decision to give the boy a second chance at happiness.
She sighed at the sight of Shang who was talking to Mei Lan in the breakfast room. At first, she thought he was teasing her earlier, but then she realized that whatever his motivation was for eschewing upper body wear, her feelings weren't under consideration.
She combed her hair and put on layers of makeup before exiting the bedroom and found Shang sitting at a table by the window, just staring at the outside world like he was lost in his head.
"Hey," she smiled at him. He straightened up as if he was conscious of being caught unaware.
"I'm ready to go," he said, as he took his pack and walked towards the front door.
"Take care," she said, casting a small smile.
"I will," he promised, landing a chase kiss on her forehead.
She knew Shang was a formidable fighter and that he would strive to keep himself and his team safe. But somehow, it felt like goodbye.