Counting the weird things that happened to Shang in his life, meeting Ba'atar and Chu'ulun must be one of the top list. When he woke up from his injuries with no recollection of what had happened, Shang found two strangers looking down at him.
"He's awake!" the larger man said, munching… some sort of glutinous stuff that looked drippy and smelt disgusting (but Shang strangely found it appealing. He must've been really hungry).
His first instinct was to rub his eyes, appraising the room around him, the unfamiliar tent, the strange-looking clothing he wore, and a strangely shapen but comfortable bed. He wondered where he was, why he was there, and who these people were, but nothing came out. His throat was dry as desert.
"Drink this. You need some fluid," ordered the smaller guy as he knelt by his bed. He spoke in a weird accent, but Shang was far more concerned about the array of undefined sharp objects that decorated the room together with the skins of their victims. He flinched when he saw the greenish-looking liquid that was offered to him. The look made him feel sick, but the smell made his stomach sing.
"This is not poison," the bigger guy added, sensing Shang's hesitation. To further convince him, he grabbed the bowl from his friend's hand, tipping the entire bowl down his throat, ignoring his friend's disapproving drivel. "See?" he grinned as he let one satisfying burp.
"Where… where am I? And…who… are you?" he said when the liquid helped him find his voice. Just then, he realised he was speaking in a different language than these people. Wait, who were these people?
"You are still in the same place where you last burnt our tent down."
Shang blinked, and both men must have sensed his confusion. "See this?" the smaller guy pointed at his upper arm, where the skin was red and full of ridges—a burnt scar. "Cool scar, thanks to you."
"I… I did that?"
Now it was their turn to stare at him, eyes wide. "You… don't remember?"
No. Not really. In fact, Shang did not even remember his name, where he came from and why he was there. But starting with a clean slate may not be a bad thing if you happened to bunk with people who you tried to kill (That was, if the people who you tried to kill didn't kill you first).
"Do you think I'm stupid?" said the smaller man, cracking his knuckles, narrowing his already small eyes at him. Shang flinched. He never knew something small could damn well be scary.
The bigger man snorted, "Count yourself lucky you are not considered the 'inner' circle. You might have more than just a scar. Besides, what are you doing walking near the wedding tent? No available hot chicks inside."
"So, it's my fault then?"
"Of course it is!"
"Excuse me," Shang said hesitantly. "Did you say…. I blew up your tent?"
And Shang would remember never to underestimate any of his petite comrades anymore. Because the smaller Hun jumped and grabbed his collar and tried to lift him up as if he weighed nothing, "I know what you are playing here. You… you lying Chinese bastard! Don't you pretend…Ack!" Suddenly, a large arm shoved him to the floor. "Pardon my friend. He woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I'm Ba'atar, and that little twerp, call him Chu'ulun."
Shang blinked. "Hi…" he managed. That was the strangest introduction ever.
As it turned out, both men were used to being a part of the guerilla movement under the Hun princess against her own father. But when he, Li Shang, as they told his name was, blew most of the Hun's royalties and inner circles to pieces, the Great Khan had no option but to promote these men who previously tried to remove him.
Ba'atar was a big man, shoulder wide like a raft, and his belly looked like he had swallowed a boulder whole. He was soft-spoken, patient and a great culinary artist who was severely allergic to cats and had a fear of heights (don't ask how he figured this out). His wife was as big as him. Both enjoyed peaceful hobbies like gardening and baking. He certainly did not fit the usual image of an army General, but his wisdom and leadership qualities certainly did.
Chu'ulun, on the other hand, was short, skinny and had the agility of a grasshopper. He was short-tempered, a formidable warrior and strategist, but had weaknesses in women. He was charismatic and unsurprisingly popular among women. Despite numerous damsels swooning on his feet, Chu'ulun was the only Huns leader who was unmarried and still living with his mother (and Shang wondered why.)
Another week went by, and all he remembered was his father, a few of his comrades' names in Wuzhong….and that he used to have an illogical fear of the dark as a child (not that he would like to mention it to anyone).
As if things weren't complicated enough, Altan assigned a woman to help take care of him (because, according to Altan, all Chinese men are incapable of washing their clothing and totally useless in the kitchen) who turned out to be his childhood friend: Suying, his neighbour since he was little that sadly he couldn't recall.
"Please, don't hesitate to sit with us," Arban invited him over to join the rest of the Huns for dinner one night when Suying was out and not cooking for him. Arban, the head of the tribe, was a good-looking man. He was another very friendly Hun, but Shang found his nosiness a little too much for his liking. He was quite literally the tabloid reporter around the encampment.
"You are our guest here, and a guest can't starve!" Ba'atar put a large dollop of… whatever… onto his plate. So, he wasn't a captive, which was a relief, but none of them explained why they were being friendly to a man who tried to perform genocide on their entire clan.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked Arban when he briefly checked his leg wound as he sat next to him.
"When healing people, there is no friends or enemy," Arban replied briefly, waving orders at a few other warriors to fetch his medicine bag. "Besides, why should I let my hatred make me feel miserable? That is not how I want to live."
Another month went by. The Huns warriors had been nothing but nice to him. Shang thought it was a very commendable attitude. Saving a friend was a noble thing, but saving your enemy was the ultimate act of chivalry.
Then, he figured it was time for him to reciprocate with a little gesture of gratitude. So when Ba'atar and Princess Altan received a report of a small village on the edge of their kingdom that had been severely deprived after a period of drought, it seemed an ideal situation for diplomacy, and Shang jumped in to volunteer.
It was immediately proven that sending a Chinese ex-captain to play diplomats was a screwball idea. The detail of the plan was for the Hun warriors, Shang included, to give aid in building a small dam by the river Ho. Except that none of the above materialised; instead, Shang ended up lying on a cart, bleeding in Baatar's arm.
"Slow down, Chu'ulun!" Ba'atar chided. "You nearly side-swipe that whole freaking boulder!"
"No talking," Chu'ulun said, jaw set in a determined expression that he's had since they picked him up from the courtyard floor. Shang couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty (and this had nothing to do with his or Ba'atar's weight, Chu'ulun seemed to manage fine). He knew he would've had a hell of a time trying to navigate a rattly wooden cart through an unfamiliar road while your 'guest' bled out all over your friend's nice, new fur coat.
"Argh! This thing doesn't even have a seatbelt!" Ba'atar cried with frustration.
"Told you it was a stupid idea!" Chu'ulun grumbled.
At first, everything was going great: Temu, the leader of the village, was polite and accommodating (and a little bit boring) as Ba'atar implied, engaging in diplomatic relations with grace and dignity far beyond their simple dwellings and humble attire (which meant nearly non-existent).
Until Shang realised that there was an ongoing rumour about Princess Altan having a romantic entanglement towards a hot Chinese captain who had murdered her friends and family (and unfortunately had a close semblance to his royally suck doppelganger), but he was already there, backing off would just confirm their suspicion.
Shang couldn't blame their distrust, really. Why would a princess save the man who burnt the bone of her kingdom to the ground? Why would she take him under her wing instead of throwing him in jail? Was it merely because of his semblance to her crush? Shang was sure it was just a figment of their imagination as romance was never on the table. Never. At least not his part. Life was already complicated enough.
But the disgusted villagers were not a logical crowd to be reasoned with. So when he, with very limited Mongolian vocab he remembered from school, trying to straighten the fact, one of the villagers pulled the strange, hooked knife from behind his back. Shang had no time to react.
And the next thing he knew, he was crouched painfully in the dirt in front of the crowds, his guts slashed, and a few horrified looks on the faces around him, Ba'atar and Chu'ulun included.
"We need to carry him to the closest healer," Chu'ulun said, looping one of Shang's arms around his neck and cursing why Arban wasn't there. Altan was angry, but a stern word of rebuke was the only thing she could deliver to the culprit. Punishing him would only make the situation worse.
Ba'atar shook his head, scooping him like he weighed nothing. "No, we need something faster," and looked down at him. "Hang in there."
Shang's mind was getting a little fuzzy, but he didn't miss the unspoken words: He doesn't have that kind of time…
And he suddenly remembered those words were said to him, long ago, by someone else.
They were patrolling in Wuzong, that evening. Shang, accompanied by a few recruits, was escorting someone—someone important.
"My Prince, please don't mind me saying this. But it is unsafe for you to walk around outside the encampment like this. Your name is not even on the patrol list."
Shao carried on chatting with Wu, the recruit beside him. Shang could only sigh.
The next thing he knew, there was a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, an arrow, Huns arrow, penetrated straight into a small gap in his armour. He couldn't forget the terrified look in the recruits' faces and how the place exploded into chaos.
"Shang, stay with me!" Shao was the only one who remained composed as he barked orders to get a horse to carry him. They only found a few planks of abandoned, half-lapidated woods.
"We can make a stretcher out of this," Shao said. "You, give me your belt, your shirt, shoelaces… whatever, we had to…" The world around him swirling into the distance, Shang closed his tired eyes. He thought this was how he was going to die.
And then the cacophony died down. All he heard was the sound of hard breathing, and his body was strapped onto something hard. Those men were carrying him on the badly made stretcher.
"Shao?" he asked. Shao was lifting the closest side to his head, thankfully, so Shang didn't have to make too much effort to make himself heard. "My father was right."
"About what?"
"About sending me here."
"What do you mean?"
Shang heaved. His breath suddenly felt heavy. "After this… You need to pick someone else to escort you. There is no….—Ack," he seethed when Shao propped him up. "Nowhere safe. There is bound to be another ambush."
"I will take note of that," he replied uncaringly.
"The Huns Princess is behind this, I am sure."
"No," Shao dismissed it quickly. "She isn't an avid archer."
But someone that's loyal to her might be, right? But with an arrow poked out of his armour and profusely bleeding chest, Shang was not about to argue.
"And If anything happened to me, would you make sure…?"
"Stop it!" Shao suddenly snapped. The entire group momentarily halted before Shao protested grumpily to keep going.
Shang opened his eyes, blinking at his friend in surprise. And Shao, although his eyes trained on the road, what his face said was clear. "Stop talking to me like you're going to die!"
And Shang decided to let that be that, because Shao had that untypical pinched expression on his face, and the last thing he wanted to see was something as heart-breaking as a crying man. Especially since it might actually be the last thing he saw.
A thunk on the road, and there was a jerk that sent him nearly hit the ground. He heard Shao cursed. Within one minute of inspection, it was clear the now disintegrated gurney they were making was not going to take them anywhere. His body weight was too much for it to bear.
"Find me a horse then! Hurry!" Shao yelled. His voice was ridden with frustration…..and fear. The three recruits immediately fled the scene.
"We can just wait here," Shang suggested, even when he knew that wouldn't improve the chance of his survival.
"We'll see," Shao said diplomatically. Even from the deep frown on his face it said: no, you don't have that kind of time. And Shang thought: how unfair would it be for this spoilt, annoying prince to be left all alone in this stupid clearing in the middle of this stupid encampment with a corpse after trying so hard to save his friend's life?
There was a long silence and all Shang heard was Shao's hard breathing that was nearly as laboured as his ragged ones. When he opened his eyes, Shao Was carrying him, bridal style. The image would've been funny should this be just a harmless prank during a drinking party or a stag do.
"You are not going to die, Shang. I would let it happen," Shao suddenly broke the silence, knowing he was staring. "Although, if you liked someone in the encampment….you should say it now."
Shang could feel his face heating up, which sucked because he couldn't spare the blood. "What…What makes you think of that?"
Shao mulled thoughtfully over his answer. "Nothing. Maybe it is just my gut feeling," he said with a meaningful smirk which immediately turned sombre. "But I know he needs you."
Did Shao say 'he'? Dear Guan Kim, the prince was really killing him.
"Don't worry about me," Shang croacked, weakly gripping his friend's shoulder and hoping that Shao did not notice how red and dark the fingers are, "I know you did everything you could. I'm glad you're here with me."
He must have done badly at enlightening the mood because he saw Shao's expression darkened and tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. Shang was just about to say something else when Shao accidentally tripped on a stone, and the jarring motion was apparently too much for his wound; he found himself sailing unwillingly, painfully, into a white powdery void.
His last thought was that he had to make it to see Ping one very last time.
Kaidu arrived back in the capital after two weeks of hunting journey accompanied by his one of his men. Since his daughter was gradually taking over most of the ground operation, he was allowed a little indulgence in doing something non-work related.
"Daughter, I believe you have a report to tell me after your journey to the Middle Kingdom," he said, welcoming Altan and her mysterious guest to come in. "And who is our guest from the Middle Kingdom?"
"This is Fa Mulan… or as we know it… Ping," she invited a woman under the cloak to reveal herself.
"Your… Your Honor," Ping voiced hesitantly as she bowed. Kaidu was left speechless. Whatever he'd been anticipating from the great Fa Ping, she was not it. Even though he knew Ping was a woman, he had been expecting someone bolder and charismatic. And certainly not someone so...young and innocent. Out of everything this war demanded, Ping seemed to be its exact reverse. With her rather petite height with pixie cut chin to match and slightly timid lack of muscle stature, she was better befitting to be at home or in the kitchen.
"She has generously agreed to help improve our relationship with the Qin," Altan spoke again, watching Ping fidget under his curious eyes. Kaidu rubbed his beard, thinking.
"What happened to the plan of you joining the Chinese Council as our representation?"
"As it turned out, that proposal was Fa Mulan's idea. Emperor Shao Wei is not in favour of it," Altan explained.
"Is that right?" Kaidu turned to Ping, who seemed to be far more interested in the array of tiger skins that decked the hall.
"Ah… yes, Your Majesty."
He was still sceptical about this legendary Fa Ping's ability, but since she was already here, they might as well try.
"This mission my daughter told you, isn't without risk. Are you sure you are going to agree to do this?" he asked, eyeing Altan to see if there was a threatening gesture towards Ping.
Recognising the silent accusation, Altan crossed her arms in front of her chest but stayed quiet to let him hear it out from the mouth of the horse.
"No, Your Honour. I decide to stay here and help on my own volition."
It sounded truthful enough, but Kaidu couldn't determine how much he should trust Ping. Yes, among all these Chinese nobility, Ping probably was the furthest from a fraud. Everyone else had offered them sweet talk and empty promises, only to stab him in the back when he wasn't looking. Meanwhile, Ping had quite a good reputation among all the Huns since her visit to the earthquake aid. And her estrangement from her current husband made her the Hun's favourite Chinese person.
When he heard of Ping's intention to stay until the mission was done, Kaidu immediately ordered Ba'atar and Arban to pitch her a suitable dwelling and helped her to settle into her new home.
The next morning, Altan briefed him about her plan for Ping (not that she was asking his opinion, really). It all sounded good and plausible for success. Before she left, he told her about his plan to procure a few more items to make their guest less homesick.
"She is an excellent candidate for a wife," Altan said with such nonchalance that surprised him.
"Is that how you interpret my plan to get her a few silk ruqun and wooden furniture?"
Altan smirked, "Maybe?"
"I have other wives," he said. "Why would I want to add one more?"
"She is capable of holding herself. Benevolent, brave and humble. She has a great sense of responsibility… and humanity," she paused, tearing her eyes off him. "Just like Mother was."
That struck him. He hadn't thought about Sarangerel for a long time. It was love that too painful to remember, too hurtful to forget. After her death, he never thought of his feeling when it came to finding a suitable wife. As a leader, finding a capable spouse that ticked all the boxes was far more important than his personal preference ever would.
But looking at Ping, there was a possibility that Altan was right. The woman appeared to be like a humble and ordinary girl, yet wrapped within this unsuspecting simplicity was an iron-fisted warrior with a lion's heart.
"But that would be unwise," he announced thoughtfully. "Consort Fa is Emperor Shao's concubine. Taking what belongs to him signalling that I want to take his throne."
"Don't you?"
"On the cost of what? Another war?The lives of our people? If I'd be honest with you, Tarkhan was right. It was a bad idea to take Fa Mulan here. What if Shao found out?"
"Then, I'll face him," she said resolutely.
Kaidu chuckled lightly, shaking his head."What exactly do you want out of this? The war just ended and we finally can return to our own lives. I have appointed you as my successor and the future Khatun. I even promoted your men into positions of power. Isn't that…. enough?" He didn't miss how her knuckles turned white. Her eyes gleam with tears. Then he understood.
"Daughter," he said patiently. "Isn't living for the future far more important than avenging the past?"
"This is more than just settling a score," she said, twisting the wooden ring on her finger, a parting gift from a hero that would forever etched in her heart. "I would need to teach that imbecile prince a lesson."
"A lesson?"
"Yes," she said, straightening her back. "That he shouldn't wound what he can't kill."
They pitched her a tent by the foot of the hill in the middle of Hun's settlement. Ba'atar and Arban's tent was just a few li on the east side of the bank. Altan said was so that they could help her with menial tasks like making fire and drawing water. Mulan thought this was so that they could watch her every move.
"You've surprised me," Ba'atar said as he brought her dinner that night.
Mulan stopped her munching and raised her brow. "Why?"
"I mean…," he pondered a little bit. "I don't know… the first time I saw you coming here during the earthquake aid. People said you are this mysterious soldier of the mountain… I just… never thought you were this…"
"Short?" Mulan said with a frown.
"I was about to say young," he let a chuckle.
Mulan regarded him from head to toe, squinting her eyes a little. "You've surprised me too. You don't look quite as vicious as General Shan-Yu. Not saying you look weak," she immediately amended, "You are just… kinder. And I am glad."
"You are?"
"Yeah, because I think you are going to be a better leader than him," she said candidly, pushing more food into her mouth without caring about much ladylike decorum. Shan-Yu had a very masculine life of fighting. Befriending a woman and appreciating femininity was possibly far from his mind. Ba'atar, on the other hand, knew that even the lady of the court still loved her food.
"In fact, I wouldn't mind being your subordinate. If this is how you feed the mistress of the man you loathe, imagine how you feed your own," she pointed out the spread in front of her. "See?"
That got him thinking, "Fair point."
"So yeah, if you are taking an apprentice. I'm in," because she had no plan of returning back to Forbidden City anytime soon.
Ba'atar's lips ticked upwards. "I'm honoured, but I already have one apprentice. I'll introduce him to you after the mission. "
"Glad I'm making new friends," she said with a pinch of sarcasm that made the large man laugh. "I still can't believe your princess dragged me here," she said, smacking her lips and thanking him as she passed her empty bowl.
"And I can't believe you polish clean the food your enemy served you."
And he was not wrong. A few years ago, she would stay away at the sight of any Huns warrior. She never dreamt of coming in close contact with one of these men, let alone sharing a quiet dinner with one.
"I figure if you want me dead, it won't be by eating scrumptious barbequed venison and rabbit congee."
Ba'atar laughed again. "I liked your sense of humour. But yeah, my wife is a great cook."
"I know why you married her then."
"I doubt culinary skill is a solid foundation for marriage but yes, ten years and counting."
A few other Huns passed in front of her tent. Some are waving at him. She saw one of the men with a visible burnt scar from his arms to his neck. Mulan felt her heart aching in sympathy, Imagining how the man's home was consumed by flames in front of his face. Ba'atar must have seen her conflicted face and admitted with a quiet voice. "We've come to terms with much loss and anger."
"I can see that," Mulan said, eyeing Shang, who was preparing their horses in the distance. A few people were pottering around him, helping. A woman, in particular, caught her attention, but she kept the question in her head. Whoever she was to Shang, it was no longer her business. Instead, she focused on what was ahead.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"What is?"
"Sending both of us for a mission," Mulan expressed her concern, "You know Tarkhan and I are not in the best of terms. Don't be surprised if he sold me at the meat market."
Ba'atar bit his smile. "He is just a little bit stung by what happened in the past. But he'll get over it. I am sure he is not a murderous type." Yes, no kidding. Who won't be mad being lied to, betrayed and dumped all at once?
"Arban and I will be watching within a safe distance, don't you worry," he pointed towards the tall, muscular man, who happened to be shirtless (of course!) and had sculpted chests more defined than Shang and Shao combined. "I won't let Tarkhan turn you into stew. But…"
"But what?"
The large man paused and stared at her for a long moment before delicately saying, "I need to tell you something."
Early in the morning, as planned, Mulan and Shang headed to the Qin's territory trying to get a hint of whether they had anything to do with or knew Hayabusa's whereabouts.
Since his rise to the throne ahead of his older brother, Emperor Hanzu was anticipating an assassination attempt by his father's former loyalist (Mulan would've appreciated that memo, thank you very much) but had no method of countering it. He was a pacifist to the point he refused to bear any weapon. Only his generals and his older brother did.
Posing as the Emperor's consort and her bodyguard, Mulan and Shang received a warm welcome from their ally.
A few of the palace guards and Prince Qinlong, the Qin Emperor's older brother, agreed to escort them, surveying the landscape around the palace ground that backed into the woods. Mulan had always wanted to see the Blue Waterfall, that was visible from the palace garden. The Qin Emperor had asked his soldiers to guard the perimeter for intruders. What he didn't anticipate was meeting a wild boar on the path. When it headed their way, Mulan didn't even think, just acted out of instinct.
Then, Prince Qinglong (who was there during the walk, witnessing the Middle Kingdom's consort snatch his bow out of his hand, somersault and arrow the wild boar like some wuxia heroes), grew suspicious about her identity. In fact, he was now convinced of her and Shang's ill intent (because he had never heard any consort from any kingdom was equipped in the art of killing or defying gravity). But of course, despite his bother fierce conviction, Emperor Hanzu would rather consult Emperor Shao Wei first before arriving at any dramatic conclusion. After all, this was titled: a friendly visit from the Middle Kingdom. Mulan only saw the furious older prince of Qin stormed out of the room with a loud bang.
Emperor Hanzu thought that was the end of it and invited her for dinner. Thankfully, Mulan was quite good at reading people's minds and poured her drink into the vase. She pretended to feel unwell, excusing herself back into her room. When she heard one of the servants locking her door from the outside, she quickly climbed over her window and went down using a rope she conjectured out of her clothing (this was exactly why all princesses should wear excessive layers of clothing!).
She had an educated guess that Shang would be drugged as well but locked in a less luxurious place than an appointed stately room. She managed to knock one of the prison guards off and slip into his clothes. Finding Shang was not that hard. What hard was to drag him out of his cell while he was unconscious (Mongolian's food had certainly affected his body mass index). This was where she improvised and hid him under the large food trolley, hauled him into a quiet storeroom, and laid him there on the floor.
In a quiet moment like this, it was hard not to feel nostalgic. How many times in the past she had watched him asleep, when his face was free from all the burden of the world, looking so tender and peaceful.
"I need to tell you something," Ba'atar's words echoed in her head. He looked unusually serious, which made Mulan feel uneasy.
"Tarkhan, no. I mean….Shang… had met someone—A Chinese girl—not long….after… you got married," and then a long pause. "They are not exactly dating, but there is…"
Even though she had expected it, or at least entertained the possibility, hearing it out loud still felt like a blade in her chest. Admittedly for her, it had been a long and lonely one-and-a-half year. Yes, there was still laughter and blessing, but so was pain, hardship and betrayal. So imagining Shang having to endure the same suffering alone in a foreign land…
Even the hardest steel is bound to bend in intense fire.
"What's her name?" she said, not knowing exactly why her lips moved without her commanding it.
"Suying," he said. And Ba'atar, ever so sensitive and kind, was obviously reading her reaction and said, "She isn't here at the moment, but I'm sure you will bump into her in the encampment at some point, but you can tell me if you are not ready to meet…"
"You don't have to do that," Mulan interjected, not letting all the confusing feelings further make things complicated between her and Shang. "I have left my old life, and so should he. Shang deserved another chance to be happy."
"Would that make you happy?"
No, her heart screamed, but she willed herself to nod and answer with a firm."Yes."
Ba'atar stared at her for a while and chuckled lightly as if he could see through her lie. "It is okay to be honest with your feelings sometimes."
Mulan blinked. She was cornered, "How do you…?" Maybe he had an advanced degree in psychology.
He laughed heartily, "Ping, I've been married for a decade! I guess this… mind-reading business comes with territory."
Yes, no kidding. Mulan sighed, "Don't tell him… or anyone. Ok? Please?"
"No regrets?" he asked again, cornering her the second time.
"No. This is my choice, and I'll live with the consequences. Besides, There is no time to look back to the past. It's way too late for that now."
"I understand," he said, eyes full of sympathy. "But be careful. Your eyes will never lie."
Ba'atar was right. If Shang just took one look at her right now he would have known. He would know how much she wanted him. And that every time she saw him, her lips tingled, and her heart leapt into her throat. Time liked this where her mind would wander of what the future may hold if he remembered how he used to feel for her. As much as she said she'd put her past with him behind, it was still him that made her heart skip a few beats faster. How unfair that he did that to her in his sleep?
While she made her way into the woods at the back of the palace to fetch Arban and Ba'atar, she took a few deep breaths and tried to shake the effect he had on her and chided herself for having such unrealistic fantasies.
Shang was floating perfectly contented in the white nothingness. He only remembered tasting one of the most amazing hoisin sauces, and the rice wine was like nothing he had drank before. It was an extremely good dinner. So, he continued to float, minding his own business, when suddenly, BAM! He was unceremoniously thrown back into his body, veins pounding as his nervous system was overloaded with what felt like a power surge; his lungs were heaving, his body arching up off the ground as the rush passed unrelentingly through his senses. His eyes flew open and landed on the two Huns crouched over his body. Ba'atar was peering at his face in concern.
"Do you think it worked?" he asked Ping, who was in some sort of uniform. On her sash was embroidered the word, 'prison officer'(?) He only heard a rumour (mostly from Altan), but truly Ping had a talent for deception.
"Damn!" Shang choked out. "What the hell?"
"I think it worked," Ping said, rolling her eyes.
"What the hell was that?" Shang asked again, finally taking in his surroundings: they appeared to be in some sort of storage space surrounded by sacks of rice, barleys, and drums of rice wines, though Shang had no memory whatsoever of walking there or lying down or...
"I just gave you the general antidote," Ping said, and Shang noticed what appeared to be two small parallel dots on his arm. One dead snake on the floor. Oh, and his left arm was bleeding. Looked like he scraped some sharp edges somewhere. "My dad told me certain snake venom mixed with root of nightshade could neutralise a lot of drugs."
"It could kill someone too," Arban smirked at Shang's mortified expression.
"But here you are, and you are fine!" Ba'atar joined in.
Shang glared at Ping. "You can't just shoot people full of unknown venomous substances without their permission!"
"That is when you were conscious enough to sign the consent form," Ping replied, crossing her arms.
Ba'atar gave him his canteen for Shang to drink, "You weren't breathing at some point, so we decided…"
"To go with her crazy idea," Arban had an amused smile. "You were drugged. Poisoned, maybe."
"I've given them the disclaimer, First Aid isn't my forte," Ping defended.
"Is it inside the rice wine?" Shang couldn't resist to ask. It tasted fine. No, in fact, it tasted wonderful, albeit the colour was a little too yellow for his liking. And that tiny tinge of smell, he hoped had nothing to do with urine.
"However much, it nearly killed you," Ping chided.
"This isn't my fault!" Shang felt the need to retaliate. It was Ping who blew the cover for being a clever ass and killed that boar on the prince's behalf. "You bulls eye'ed that boar, I mean… of course, which princess can kill something that big with a single aim except you are a trained assassin?"
"What should I do then? Let Emperor Hanzu be trampled and mauled in front of my eyes?"
Shang crossed his arms with a stubborn expression. "His brother was there…let him do the honour of…"
"Prince Qinglong might be the one who put that boar there! He couldn't be king because his father chose his younger brother instead. Can't you see, he was standing there not aiming his bow…"
"Prince Qinglong is very supportive of his brother. But he is more of a hands-on guy. That's why he became the country's foreign secretary and the head of defence instead. Besides all the guards, the patrol during our visit was all his idea!"
Ping's frown deepened. "Don't you ever consider it might just be for a show? He might then betray…"
"Not everyone will go that low to do anything to get what they want, doing the dirtiest trick in the book while pretending to be noble. And not everyone easily forgets family ties like it's worth nothing!" He growled, and Ping's answering gulp pleased him immensely. He was really good at growling. Even Altan had given him compliments.
"Guys! Guys!" Ba'atar raised his hand. "Seriously? This isn't the time for a domestic row." He gently patted Ping, who curled like lettuce under intense sun.
"More like time to fix your arm," Arban pointed out. "It'll be only a few stitches. The wound would get infected if left…"
"Whoa whoa what's that?" Shang pointed at the strange, pointy tools in Arban's hand.
"Should you know?"
"Of course?"
"You'll regret you asked."
"No, I demand to know."
"Nose hair tweezer."
"Nose.. what? And you use it for... No! No way!"
"Don't worry, I've rinsed it with soya sauce. Salt kills all the bacteria," Arban gave a wicked grin. Next to him, Ping fell silent, crouching on the floor, eyes trained on the dust around her shoes. His brutal remark seemed to wound her more than he thought it would. Suddenly, Shang felt bad for saying things in rage. He might not remember much about who he was, his past, and what exactly happened between him, Ping and Emperor Shao Wei. But he wasn't a person who avenged bad stuff with worse things.
He was about to say something to her when two large hands pressed him back down.
"Now, you. Mister, lay down and be a good patient."
The road back to the Hun's encampment felt like forever, especially when all Shang could do was sit on the horse, strapped into Arban's uncomfortably solid back.
"Guys, we camped here for the night. Arban and I will collect some firewood and pitch the tent. Ping, you stay here and keep the watch…"
"I'll help you with the tent," Ping jumped to offer. She had made it very obvious she didn't want to be here alone with him, not that he wanted to either.
"There bound to be some wild boar around," Ba'atar shot down her idea. Shang swore he could hear the blatant teasing edge of his voice.
"Fine," she relented.
"You can go if you want," Shang muttered. He was lying on the ground a few paces beside her, his body still weak from the effect of the poison (or overdose?). "You don't have to sit around to babysit me." He had his back facing her, but she could hear the snappiness of his voice just fine.
He exhaled slowly as he heard the Hun's footfalls dissolve in the distance. Honestly, Shang couldn't explain his aversion to sitting alone with Ping. Various people narrated that there were unresolved issues between them, but if he remembered nothing of it, why did it agonise him this much?
"Why can't you and I," Ping murmured, voice pitched for Shang's ears alone, "pretend not to hate each other for five minutes?"
He turned to face her. She inched backwards a little, looking hesitant, maybe a little terrified. He wondered what he had done in the past to receive such a frightened stare from a woman who did a number on these Huns warriors. "Look, I'm sorry I said mean thing back there, but the truth is… I don't hate you."
"I thought…." she hesitated. "I mean, I get it… if you hate me… after what I did to you."
Yes, how could he dismiss such deceit… and betrayal… even when it was just a hearsay? But her painfully earnest expression was one Shang was getting to know well; it was achingly familiar at this point, like the scar of an old wound he couldn't remember exactly when, but he thought he had seen Ping's despondent face from before.
"What happened between us, it's in the past. Let's not dig into it. At least not now."
She blinked, "You… remember?"
Shang shook his head. "Fragments. Like I remember names, Chien-Po, Ling, Yao…" and he stared at her. "Ping…"
"And?" she said hopefully, and Shang hated to have to break that dream.
"And I..—" he tried to be as diplomatic as possible. But his mind was strangely blank of any memories related to his domestic life. "I remember your name…..But I don't remember who you all are."
"Oh…" she deflated.
"I'm sure it is not all bad," he tried to enlighten the mood. From what he gathered, a lot of Chinese husbands were often oppressive and distant and made their wives second-class citizens at home. They all demanded to be served, respected and obeyed like a god. It was no wonder that Ping looked scared and inadequate in front of him.
"I decided to stay here to start anew. To move forward. I'm sure the Shang you knew had made mistake… made wrong choices… acted selfishly." Shang didn't exactly know the specifics of what he was admitting, but it seemed to resonate so well with whatever happened between them in the past because Ping averted her gaze as if she didn't want him to see her crying.
"Nobody should be a prisoner of their past. So, nor should you." When he threw a little smile at her, her entire face suddenly lit up like a firework. She smiled back as she wiped her tears.
"We were never this…," she paused, trying to find the words, "kind of couple who fit the common stereotypes. Yes, you work, and I deal with the kitchen… or you decide, and I listen, but… occasionally, those roles were… not followed… in fact, I challenged you in a duel on our wedding night."
His turn to raise his brows. "You… you did?"
"And you accepted."
Shang took a time to imagine. "Wow." What was he thinking?
She chuckled, and Shang found the sound oddly comforting, "Yeah, well, hardly surprising. We didn't know each other at all."
The conversation wasn't as soul-draining as he imagined it would be. She talked fondly about his ruthless training in the regiment, his phenomenal aiming skill, his friends in Wuzong and their last battle in Tung Shao Pass. Despite the fact they were strolling down memory lane, the feeling of betrayal and anger was no longer there. Right now, he was just curious about who this 'Shang' was. The Shang that all his old friends loved.
"Did we… get along?"
"No, not at the beginning," she said, eyes were distant, full of nostalgia. "But eventually, we did. I was injured once, badly," she said, revealing her robe a little to show him the scar. "And you've been taking care of me. And from that moment on… we weren't two strangers forced to share a roof over our heads. We were…," she swallowed, taking a deep, shaky breath. "We were compatriots. Brother in arms. We were… equal. At least, I think we were."
It was hard to imagine his life with this woman. 'Ping' the Huns recounted, was a valiant and courageous soldier, a merciless killing machine. Yet the woman in front of him appeared so small, fragile, and heartbroken.
"So…" she started again. He stared at her, but she hastily tore her eyes off him.
"Now I have a chance to tell you this: I'm sorry…," she stuttered, but Shang patiently waited for her to gain her composure.
"I'm sorry if my deception ruined your trust and friendship. I'm sorry it broke our family. But believe me this, I never left you for anyone else. Never. Even after you… died, I …," she hiccuped several times in rapid succession, pressing her closed hands to her chest. Shang couldn't help but notice the yin pendant that still hanging on her neck, the exact match of his that he kept in his tent. The metaphorical confession slapped him in the face: Once... you were the other half of me.
Shang opened his mouth when all ability to respond abandoned him in a sudden spasm of discomfort.
He gasped, head thrown back and body bucking against his will, ears ringing in a chorus of wrongness that made his limbs twitch. His father taught him at a young age that experimenting with a snake was a big No-No; he was not surprised that Ping—the name that attracted all spectrums of danger—somehow missed that domestic memo.
Two hands suddenly pushed at his shoulders, flattening him to the floor, but he couldn't identify the owner because his vision was dotted with little orange explosions. All he knew was that Ba'atar was shouting at Ping, Ping was shouting at him, and he. Couldn't. Breathe.
Unconsciousness was a relief. Shang could hear voices speaking softly. Looking at the familiar ceiling of the tent, the table that was disarrayed with Mongolian literature and maps, this was his tent, his bed, and that made him relieved.
"Right, so maybe in hindsight sending you two without enough training may have been a mistake." It was unmistakably Chu'ulun's voice.
"Too much training, I would say," came Ba'atar's exasperated reply. "Ping, you've got wicked skill! Although, it was a wrong time and place to demonstrate."
"I've told you, I've only acted on instinct!" she argued.
"But this mission is screwed!" came Arban's snappy comeback. "And we've travelled this far…"
"Ping and her unnerving instinct," Chu'ulun spelt with a satirical laugh. "And I've wasted my precious hours coming up with this sophisticated plan!" Because he was the one who had meticulously drawn maps and gathered all the intel about the Qin's palace. "May as well spend it discussing the merits of not wearing underwear."
"Well, next time, try not to kidnap someone and hope she'll help you!" Ping's sounded unusually hostile.
"Hey, don't blame me! It's not my idea to…"
"Guys… guys… Look, I know it is frustrating, but I am sure it is not loss," Ba'atar interjected. "And please. Be. Nice."
"Sorry, we don't usually know the protocol to interact with potentially friendly but violent Chinese," Chu'ulun said with a half-laugh, half-disbelieving snort. "Usually, we just punch them in the face."
Shang could imagine Ba'atar crossing his arms and wearing his best 'are-you-children-done-bickering?' kind of face. "R' You guys done?"
There was a momentary pause, and Ping answered, a lot more composed and level than a minute ago."I checked every cell when I was looking for Tarkhan. If they kept Hayabusa in prison I would've seen him. He could've been kept elsewhere. "
"Guess we have to return back there to check again?" Chu'ulun said nonchalantly.
Ping gasped, "Tell me you are joking!"
"Don't you want to spend some quality time with General Tarkhan? I am sure a year is a long time to be apart. There's a lot of catching up to do…. riiight?" he drawled. And the Hun's teasing did not end there.
"Honestly, I think we need to be slightly more careful with you," Arban stated with seriousness.
"Me?" Ping was utterly confused.
"Yes, gossip says you have a propensity to attract trouble. Heard you nearly burnt someone alive in his tent during training." Shang didn't know how that kind of headlines travelled that far.
"You nearly blew up your own training encampment," he clarified. It was an exaggeration, but at the moment, clarifying little details won't help that much.
"Well, if your superpower is to bring catastrophe, may as well use it for good," Chu'ulun stated. "Exactly my point to send her back to the Qin's Palace. Preferably with an insane amount of explosive this time."
Ping cleared his throat, "I tend to be a little stressed in an unknown environment," she said sheepishly. "My undercover performance is normally exceptional. I swear."
Yes, imagine living communally with dozens of men 24/7. If sharing a tent was tricky enough, imagine sharing a bathroom with them for months! That was a god-level espionage skill.
"I am sure she wasn't complaining about sharing a tent with shirtless Tarkhan," Chu'ulun chimed in with a suggestive tone. Shang coughed. Loudly. Suddenly everyone outside fell silent.
"Tarkhan! He is awake!"
"Get that food! I'm sure he is famished. Ping, don't you want to come too?" There was no answer, but Shang was certain there was no way Ping could face him after such a brutal verbal jab.
Shang immediately prepared his sick-person posture, pulling his blanket to his chin. Who knew these Huns would annoy him less if they saw him already suffering?
"Tarkhan!" the Huns chorused as they transpired on his door.
"Welcome back, warrior!" and immediately, he was taken into Ba'atar's warm, ample chest.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," he replied, staring at Arban and Chu'ulun, who grinned like an idiot while the side of his face squashed somewhere in the vicinity of Ba'atar's armpit.
"I thought you were gone, man!" Chu'ulun slapped his back unceremoniously. Chu'ulun's manly slap was the bane for healthy ribs, let alone the injured ones. "Careful!" came Ba'atar's possessive exclaim as he pushed Chu'ulun out of range and took Shang's arm in a steadying grip.
"I thought you said the antidote was working?" Shang wondered.
"Mmm…," Ba'atar chewed his lips, admitting. "I can't say to a dying man that he is dying, right?"
"Geez, thanks for the honesty."
Arban stepped forward, taking the seat closest to his bed. "Tarkhan, I would like to either hug or man-slap you, but after watching you sleep for three days, I think I feel close enough to you already," he said with a grin.
"Three days?"
"We took turns keeping watch, some obviously more dedicated than others."
"Oh?" Shang replied with a perplexed look.
Chu'ulun cleared his throat, "What Arban meant was that Ping had a three-day epic angst session in front of your bed, and I finally had to send her away because she was so pathetic and smelly that we thought her presence might actually be detrimental to your recovery."
Shang frowned as he turned to Ba'atar, the most credible source of honesty, who just shrugged. Chu'ulun shot him a complicit wink, and Arban smiled knowingly.
"You've definitely consumed too much of whatever that poison was that Ping's antidote could only relieve you for a day," Ba'atar explained.
"Ping caught that snake. I commend her for that. All of us think she was crazy," Arban added.
"Is she still here?" It was a stupid question as he had just heard her a few minutes ago chatting outside, but part of his brain thought she should've gone home to her family now the mission was done. "Where is she now?"
"Probably in her tent." That's Chu'ulun again, a little too helpfully and too innocently. Little punk. "Want me to go get her so you both can resume filling the room with unresolved sexual tension?" Chu'ulun suddenly quoted him with the best impersonation of Shang's voice when he was talking to Ping. "I don't hate you."
Shang blinked at that little comment, a small potential revelation itching at the corner of his brain. "You eavesdropped on our conversation?" he glared at Ba'atar and Arban, who only smiled a little too innocently. "Gathering firewood, my foot!"
"Just me, actually," Arban admitted, somewhat proudly. Great, then he told everyone.
Chu'ulun rested his elbow on the table next to Shang's bed. "He read my diary during the earthquake crisis. This man has no respect for privacy!"
"Whatever!" Arban snorted gaily. Shang threw an intimidating glare. He swore to shave this man bald later in his sleep.
"Tarkhan, I don't know how these girls found your annoyed smoulder arousing."
On the mentioned of 'girls', another supporting protagonist character popped into the conversation, to Shang's dismay.
"Oh yes, Suying! What do you think her reaction would be if she knew she had a rival now?" Thankfully, Suying was out to visit her family for a few months. Honestly, he only had the brain capacity to deal with one woman at a time.
"What are you talking about?" Shang responded, a little irked by the cryptic way these men talked.
"Are you for real?" Chu'ulun resisted the desire to slap his handsome face. Yes, Leave it to him to miss out on a juicy rumour in a room of only four people. "Because Ping likes you, you numskull!"
"You are insane!" Shang reacted reproachfully even though the possibility had run into him from their last conversation.
His cohort stared mutely at him in disbelief (at the complexity of Chinese drama or his cluelessness… or both). But no, Shang could not possibly believe Ping had preferred a broody, prosthetic-legged defector over the handsome, powerful Emperor of China who had complete limbs, couldn't he?
"Your Chinese is definitely flawed. I even heard her admitting it to you," Chu'ulun said. "And I failed my Mandarin class."
"You weren't even there," Shang gave him a twisted look which was answered by Arban's victorious smirk. He should've been a tabloid columnist. Honestly.
"She said… even after you died, she could never…." Chu'ulun made a dramatic choke and displayed a really fake love-sick face that made Shang want to puke.
"Oh dear," Arban said with a dainty voice that disturbing coming out of a muscular man like him. "If Suying knew that you were sleeping with Ping…"
"How many times do I need to tell you, Suying is just a friend," Shang exasperated.
"Friend with intentions," Arban impugned.
"You and your big mouth," Ba'atar (who had so far been a passive behavioural analyst) gave a disapproving shake of head.
Chu'ulun raised his hand, staring at Arban. "Wait, how do you know…Ping and Tarkhan were sleeping together? Were you…?"
"Ew, no," he gagged. "They were married, you idiot. What do you think married couples do? Making cakes?"
Sword fight wasn't very far down the list in magnitude of absurdity, not that Shang would add to the level of humiliation he was experiencing now. May as well they buried him alive right now or tossed him into the crevasse of Tung Shao Pass.
"Could hardly blame her. Tarkhan's abs must be hard to forget. I saw romance subtext scrolling every time these two were talking."
Shang ran his palms down his face. "Can we please talk about something else?" Not that anyone else was listening to his plea.
"But words do get around," Ba'atar pointed out without specifically telling Shang, but Shang felt like that spear was aimed at him.
Chu'ulun shrugged, "But what's the big deal? It is usual for powerful men to have more than one wife, right? In fact, the more wives, the higher the status."
"With your brand capacity as the Huns strategist, I am sure you know that is not my concern," Ba'atar gave the smaller man an unimpressed gaze. "There are people who shouldn't know about this." The Huns might not care about a petty love triangle among the Chinese immigrants. To them, it must be like watching a game of football with a bunch of adorably clumsy five-year-olds. Watching the games alternated between tediously boring and incredibly amusing. But what if the Emperor of the Middle Kingdom knew his favourite wife ran away into the arms of their enemy to be with her ex-husband? War was bound to explode.
Shang rolled his eyes at Chu'ulun. "Why don't you try that for yourself for once? Your mother has always pushed you to get married and settle down." It wasn't a wrong assessment. Chu'ulun was very indecisive for a thirty-something-year-old general with a lot of suitors. "You can at least narrow down to two or three."
"Right," Arban picked the imaginary pen. "General Ba'atar, I need you to get me a list of all the women that Chu'ulun has entertained in the last year."
Ba'atar made a face. "I'm not sure there's enough ink in all of Mongolia to complete that request."
It was hard to keep the cohesion and order in the palace after the incident with the Huns. After Empress Zetian left for the Summer Palace to give birth, the situation behind the wall of the Forbidden City was like a time bomb ready to explode.
The Emperor had avoided any hint of discussion and veered away from any casual corridor small talk if any of his General broached the subject. Hence, when the Emperor was out surveying the new hospital, Master Peng took the opportunity to consult a few Generals and senior advisors on the matter.
"So, the rumour turned out to be true," Master Peng said in front of other Generals and a few senior advisors. "Prince Shao was behind Emperor Xiongnu's assassination."
"He certainly had motives," General Xiu Ming pondered.
General Zhi scoffed. "He isn't even ready for the throne. Why on earth must he do this and not just wait? The throne will be his eventually."
"Not everyone can wait, General Zhi. And you are right about him not being ready. But I think him marrying Fa Mulan changed his attitude," remarked General Xiu Ming. "No philandering, gambling, random soiree or outrageous spending. Quite contrary now, he is hardworking, responsible and taking his role seriously. If we disregard what he did to gain the throne, I'd say Emperor Shao is a fine king."
The rest of their cohort nodded in agreement. "He proposed the irrigation system and the loan for the farmer. Since then, our harvest has steadily increased, so we received higher tax income. He fixed roads and built more schools and hospitals, creating more jobs in the process. He also diligently promoted better relations with neighbouring kingdoms by giving them aid and autonomy."
"But good deeds do not cancel the fact that he did what he did," General Zhi pointed out.
"True."
"You know, Honorable Chi-Fu said that he dated Fa Mulan from back the time he was in Wuzong," Meng Wu, one of the advisors, butted in, somewhat proudly. "But he isn't allowed to elaborate more."
Everyone shook their heads. "Poor guy. He was lying on the gurney with a hole in his chest, and his wife was toying with a prince behind his back."
General Zhi clicked his tongue. "She is a fraud. Heard she even dressed as a man to sneak into the encampment to sleep with the prince." It was responded with a coherent murmur of disgust.
"Heard she is a good fighter. Excellent at aiming and quite fluent with her sword," added one of the advisors. "I wonder where and who trained her. May be her father?"
"I do feel sorry for Empress Zetian. She had to marry her father's murderer… who certainly favours that slut over her."
"So, what do we do now?"
"We can't just ditch him. He is the country's only heir. Unless we bring back Prince Wei Zhang," Master Peng suggested. Now that they knew he was only admitting the crime to protect his son, his exile order could be reversed.
"I can't say Prince Wei Zhang will do any better. Look at his priorities. He chose to marry a barbarian princess. A political outcast, no less. At least Emperor Shao chose two of our own."
"I heard Prince Wei Zhang is not very well. But I second that idea of…"
"A letter," the palace messenger abruptly barged in, interrupting their discussion. He bowed as he handed the parchment. The message looked formal, with a seal of the Hun royal emblem on it.
"A letter? From who?"
"Just read it."
Master Peng unrolled the scroll, cleared his throat, and he began.
To the Honorable Advisor, Middle Kingdom Generals and respectable Councillors.
First, let me, Princess Altansarnai, begin by personally apologising to you for the spectacle I made a few weeks ago. Since my polite request of allegiance wasn't reciprocated by your Emperor, I had to come up with a dramatic method to ensure I got what I needed - what my country needed.
I understand that in front of your eyes, I will always be a barbarian princess, and there is no reason why you should trust the murderer who killed your beloved Emperor. Yet now you know his blood is not just on my hands.
If you heartily and fully loved your Emperor Shao Liong Wei, readily put your fate in his ruling hand, then read no further...because nothing that lay ahead would be useful to any of you.
But if you are still seeking a leader with integrity in both character and conduct, who deserved to be respected and loved, who had stood in the battlefront together with you, who had readily sacrificed his life for his kingdom. Then, you should harken to me, for I will tell you your kingdom's greatest secret and even so, your throne's saddest tragedy.
The truth was…
And he stalled there.
"What is it?" Meng Wu urged.
"I…" Master Peng's eyes frantically scanned the letter, reading it a dozen times as if it would sound any different if he did.
"The suspense is killing me," General Xiu Ming snatched the parchment from his hand. He was gaping too but managed to say, "We have a crown prince….The real crown prince."
The room erupted into an incoherent cacophony of questions and confused looks.
"From whom? The Late Emperor Xiongnu?" General Zhi scoffed. "Impossible."
"Y-yes… ," he stuttered, mind lost in jumbled thoughts. "Late Emperor Xiongnu, he had… a son."
"You are not being serious. He must be illegitimate," General Zhi said sceptically.
"It said here...he was the son of one of the Emperor's consort," General Xiu Ming read out.
"Any proof?"
Master Peng took the letter, inspecting and reading it one more time. Son from one of the Emperor consorts, hidden in plain sight, it read. He suddenly remembered accidentally revealing the identity of the ex-Chinese Captain dressed as a Hun on the spoken day. Could it be him? Isn't he the son of General Li? Does Li Jiang know? Was he getting killed as part of the cover-up? Is Emperor Shao behind in this too? There were way too many questions.
"Master Peng?"
"Oh…" he just realised everyone was waiting for his response. "No… not really. There is no proof. It could well be a trap. A distraction," he announced levelly. And the room rest into a relief sigh. "Or a blatant lie."
And it also could be the truth.