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It had been weeks since their last mission to the Qin Kingdom. Since then, Chu'ulun and Ba'atar had been going back and forth in deciding whether they needed to prepare the army to anticipate the Qin's reaction or concentrate on finding Hayabusa. Chu'ulun tended to think there would be a backlash to their unwelcome visit, especially when Emperor Hanzu realised who truly his 'guests' were.
No one entertained his concern until it did.
The news came one evening when they were doing armour inventory at the main storage tent. Ba'atar was sitting on the floor, jotting down notes while his apprentice, Attila, was shouting the numbers out loud.
"General Ba'atar, there are lines of army by the hillside. A few thousand of them," he reported. The Qin's army had come.
"They were spotted camping just across the river."
Ba'atar cursed under his breath, dismissing Atilla, who was still gathering a stock of arrows and throwing them into the sack. After relaying the message to the Khan, Ba'atar informed the other Generals, and somehow, although Mulan wasn't included in the number, he still told her.
"How far are they?" Mulan burst into Chu'ulun tent. The Hun strategist stared at the large map splayed on his table. In the background, he could hear the cacophony of panic footfalls as Hun warriors frantically assembled their formation.
"The News said about a one-day walk on horseback; it could be one and a half as heavy snow had just fallen the day before," Chu'ulun replied, eyes still trained on the pins and flags on the map. By the sound of it, they wanted to ambush us unnoticed."
"Have they done this before?" Mulan asked, surprised by how unprepared the Huns were.
"No. There were plenty of threats and small ambushes on the villages on the borders, but they never marched towards the royal tent for an open attack with thousands of men—at least not within these few decades."
"Art of intimidation," Mulan thought out loud.
Chu'ulun tapped his chin. "But we still have to get ready to retaliate, which is not good. Since the incident at the wedding venue, a lot of our warrior had resigned when they found out their leaders were dead." Unlike the Chinese army, who treated soldering as a job, Huns warriors treated fighting as a way of life. They were not paid wages to do it. It was purely a volunteer act. That's why when the leader they were loyal to left or died if the appointed successor didn't share the same ideology or possessed the same charisma, many Huns fighters left.
Knowing they were severely outnumbered, Mulan thought about other tactics. "We must surprise them first before they do us."
"And how are we going to do that?" Chu'ulun was thinking hard. "Our number sucks, and our odds are not much better." So, if the enemy advanced towards the main encampment where the civilians lived, they would obliterate them to pieces. These are the only certain statistics. "We need to tell everyone to evacuate. Just in case," he decided, marching out to give orders to the other Generals when Mulan caught his arm.
"Wait, I got a plan."
She leant and whispered. The man blinked for a moment, considering all the pros and cons.
"It may work, but it may not. Meanwhile, we must still ask the civilians to move to the woods."
"I understand, but this is worth trying."
"Fine," he said after weighing all options. "You've said you need a bait, so I'll…"
"No," Mulan stared at him right in the eye and said with enough conviction to leave him no room for argument. "I'll be."
Altan thought Ping's plan went well—very well, indeed. She got the Huns to dig up trenches at whatever time they had left. She ordered them to place a net on top of it so that when the snow fell during the night, it was perfectly concealed. Then, she dressed all the Huns' horses in whatever animal fur they'd hunted, making it look like the warriors were riding on tigers and bears. It was a perfect illusion.
The Qin's army arrived early that morning, charging at full speed. Ping stood at the front of the firing line, wearing Chu'ulun's battle armour and mask. Their similar stature was an added point to her deception.
"My brothers!" Altan began, her voice firm and loud. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. And I wouldn't lie. A day may come when the courage of men fails when it rains blood, and our orphans cry, but it is not this day! This day, we fight!"
"Aye!" the crowd chroused.
And then Ping took her place, clearing her throat and mustered her best masculine impersonation. "My Huns brethren. By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you... stand! For we are the descendants of the gods of the sky! The conqueror of a thousand hills! No blood. No soil! No fight, no freedom! Are you with me?"
The crowd erupted in euphoric cheer. At that moment, Ping had a charisma so powerful that even the hundreds of Huns behind her didn't know it wasn't their leader they were following. From the front seat, Altan watched as the battle unfolded. As soon as their target appeared on the horizon, the Qin army shot their arrows as they charged.
"Sheild!" Ping commanded as their army took shelter from the arrow. They waited until the inevitable happened: hundreds of Qin's horses fell into the trenches, creating chaos. It really caught them by surprise. The remaining Qin soldiers approached the front lines, and she could hear the Qin general shouting. "Hold back, they are riding on tigers!"
"Charge!" Ping commanded as she led hundreds of Hun warriors moving forward, closing the gap.
When the Qin soldiers were still accessing the situation, part of the soldiers Ping deployed to hide from beyond the hills descended and gave them a surprise attack from the back. It was then the Qin prince commanded his soldiers to raise their flag to indicate they were coming in peace.
"Prince Qinglong, what do I owe you the honour of you showing on our doorstep unannounced," Altan moved forward in front of her warrior, commanding them to stand down.
"Pardon the interruption, My Princess. I am coming here to… talk."
"Talk?" Altan scoffed, glancing left and right at the disarrayed lines of Qin soldiers behind him. " Humor me, what do you want to talk about that you need to bring a few battalions behind you?"
"Pardon me, as newly minted foreign affairs and defence minister, I might have overdone things," his eyes searching. "I wish to have an audience with Consort Fa."
Ping gulped behind her mask, not that the Qin Prince noticed.
"And if I refuse? You are going to attack us full-on. Is that your plan?" Of course, Altan had no reason to entertain his request. Maybe this Qin Prince, too, had smelt the brilliance out of Fa Mulan.
"The relationship between our country has always been…. complicated, is it not?" he said, unmounted from his horse and paid the princess with a quick bow.
"But, it is not a good enough excuse for an unprovoked ambush," she defended.
"You've sent spies!" he said pointedly. His sharp glance towards Arban and Ba'atar didn't go unnoticed. "But I won't be a hypocrite by not admitting that I put my soldiers on your village around the borders."
"Yes, I would like to hear the logical explanation, Honorable Prince," Chu'ulun said with a pinch of sarcasm. Qinglong gave an unamused glare. "And you are?"
"Chu'ulun, the strategist," he immediately removed his mask. There was a restrained gasp from the crowd of Huns warriors, realising their General wasn't the one leading them to the frontline.
"Princess Altan," Qinglong began by addressing her. "Since Emperor Shao gave us back our land, I've been weary that the Huns on the borders will strike anytime. Most Huns are trained warriors, while most of us are farmers and traders…So, I apologise if that move was seen as provocation."
"Even clueless country bumpkins could be lethal if you gave them a glaive, arrows or sword," Chu'ulun grumbled with a voice that meant only to her ear.
"Your ambush is a vile offence to my kingdom, and I won't regard it lightly." There was the crack of a whip in her voice. She openly exerted her authority, reminding Prince Qinglong of who she was. "However, I accept your explanation." The rest of her generals were visibly looking surprised at her quick acquiescence. But it would be reckless to spend the life of her warrior just to argue over a dispensable foreign captive. If this foreign prince wanted Ping so badly, he could have her. But first, she would like to know what she could bargain for.
"But I am willing to talk, and we see whether we can make… an agreeable compromise. Shall we?" she gestured. Despite her General's disapproving look, Altan invited the young prince of Qin into the main tent.
The Qin Prince agreed to enter unaccompanied by any of his men and stripped of any weapon. It was a positive indication he had no bad intentions, at least not at this point.
"So, tell me then. Why do you want this foreign concubine so badly that you are willing to start a war?" she said when they were all inside.
"I don't do negotiations with people behind the mask," he glanced towards most of the Huns in the room who were still wearing their battle updo, complete with their masks. Altan gave a slight nod. Ping and Tarkhan removed theirs.
The look of surprise that turned into admiration on Prince Qinglong's face was unmistakable. It was Ping who had played the role of Huns General who brought him to his knee. "Consort Fa," he addressed her respectfully.
"My honourable Prince, what do you need of me?" she asked.
"Venerable Fa," he was still on his knee. "I would like your help to depose my brother."
It was Ping's turn to be surprised. "What?"
There were two ways for Qinglong to seize his brother's throne: first, by killing him, which involved a lot of planning and potential backlash from his father's supporters, or second, by making him give his throne willingly (or unwillingly) to him.
"I have no desire to spill blood, moreso someone who owns the same blood as me. It's more like… persuade him to step down."
Ping's eyes still bulge out wide. Truthfully, without knowing the whole story, one might prefer the older Prince Qinglong as the Qin Emperor. He was tall, muscly built, and well-rehearsed in the art of war. His knowledge of political semantics was also vast and commendable. He was confident, brave and full of charisma. Since early childhood, he had received the best instruction from the country's top tutor in economics and leadership. But, it seemed that it took more than just education and knowledge to mould someone's character.
"My brother is a good person, but he isn't a good king. Have you not seen the state of many villages and towns in our kingdom? It is rampant with gangsters and thieves. He failed to install a suitable government in each town, leading the people to anarchy, everyone for themselves. But it is all understandable. Hanzu never took any formal education on how to govern a nation and didn't understand the merit of building an army," he said blithely. Altan smelled something amiss but wanted to see how Ping reacted to his attempt to weave a moving story. "He couldn't even hold a sword! Let alone run a country! Consort Fa, our land is fertile, and the rain is plentiful, yet some of us starve! It doesn't make sense!"
"Running a country is more than just holding a sword," Ping replied.
"Theoretically, that's true. But pay attention; everyone in this room is a formidable fighter in one way or another. Even Princess Altan here is no exception. One can't protect his country if he couldn't even protect himself."
"Point taken," Altan was not interested in hearing a long-winded argument.
"I don't mean to belittle my own brother. Emperor Hanzu has good traits, like his ability to mediate conflict and never make rash decisions. He is very emphatic and humble. But compassion and humility alone don't make a nation prosper."
"Is that your idea of a successful government?" Ping pointed patronisingly at the lines of soldiers outside the tent. "Violence?"
"We can sleep soundly at night because our soldiers are ready to visit the violence of those that would harm us."
"Why me and not someone else?" Ping finally asked. There was no contempt in her voice, only curiosity.
"Because you are a remarkable, influential character who is great at changing people's minds. The Middle Kingdom wouldn't be here if it weren't because of you."
Altan sneered but remained quiet. She just wanted to see some reaction from her men. Variations from an exasperated head shake, an amused nod, to a slight chuckle were decorating her General's face. Ping? Ping was just pressing her lips, certainly not buying his theatrical acting. "Greatness is not what you think," she said coldly.
"Still, you are this elusive force that saved the Middle Kingdom," he said dismissively.
Truthfully, being a hero has its price. Look at where Ping was now. She had to give up her home, her family and the very desire of her heart.
"You should ask assistance from one of your generals instead of me," Ping insisted.
"If one of my generals did this, others would see it negatively, as if he wished to overthrow the Emperor."
Ping tilted her head, "But you are, aren't you?"
Everyone gawked. It was like a blunt strike to the head. No one believed how brave and direct this clumsy Chinese soldier was. But at this moment, they were all enjoying watching Ping metaphorically undressing the Prince of Qin.
"Ahem…" However, rehearsed well in politics, Prince Qinglong remained calm and unprovoked. "No one wanted to be seen as a power-thirsty traitor," he replied tactfully. My late father picked Hanzu because he thought my little brother would get along better with an imposing personality like Emperor Xiongnu, Emperor Shao, or the Great Khan Kaidu. He is very accommodating in his approach… while I tend to stand on my principles."
"Let me get it straight: you want me to persuade your 'weak' brother to hand the throne to you so that your people won't perceive you as a power-hungry dictator, am I right?"
Prince Qinglong bit a smile. "You can call me whatever you like," he said, not unkindly. "But as my brother, he'll listen to you. You've saved his life."
Just as Ping arranged some witty excuse, the Prince went on, bidding on Ping's weaknesses: her desire for a better world. "Honorable Fa, I plead that you consider my plea and let me prove to you what kind of nation will be born under my rule. And if I am succeeding in my throne, you are saving not just our country but also my relationship with my brother. I'm sure you know how fragile the sibling relationship in court can be. Having you acting as a mediator would be a god-sent blessing."
And just like a tornado, as quickly as he came, he left.
After putting so much thought (and after a week of idleness that would make her every brain cell evaporate from boredom), Mulan finally agreed to visit the Qin Kingdom again, a solo trip this time. Altan initially objected to her plan to talk to Emperor Hanzu, fearing it would escalate the precarious situation between the two countries. But after much convincing that she was there not representing any nation, Altan let her go with one condition: She would be returning back.
Of course, Altan could not guarantee that her 'guest' would not run away, so she sent one of the Huns to invigilate her.
"Here, meet your fellow travel companion. I've briefed him that his job is to play whatever role you need him to be to stay invisible, ensure your safety… and, most importantly, ensure that you are not running away from me."
Mulan rolled her eyes. "How many times should I tell you I have no intention of running a..." When she saw who the man was, her eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets.
"You!"
"What the hell?!" he pointed at her with matching indignation.
"Oh, so you know each other, great!" Altan said with a delightful tone. "Ping, this is Atilla, previously Hayabusa's apprentice. And Atilla, this is Ping. I am sure you two will go along splendidly."
Yes, splendidly, it did not.
Much to Mulan's chagrin, Princess Altan cared very little about whether or not her little plan to play diplomat would be successful. In the back of her mind, Mulan was certain Altan knew the entire story of what had happened between her and Atilla and this arrangement was very much intentional.
During those months, snow was quite thick and heavy. Both parties had quietly agreed to travel on foot, planning ahead to make pit stops in the inns or people's houses. As Mulan learnt, Attila wasn't a light traveller; in fact, quite the opposite.
"Wait for me!" Mulan said as they set off, struggling to juggle her pack and the map in her hand. Attila glanced back at her uncaringly, carrying his towering pack full of clothing, weaponry, and provisions for all what-if situations as he marched in front of her.
"We're just going to walk to the border and stop at…," she eyed her map while trying hard to keep at pace with Atilla. "Gua-ya…Ouch!" Her foot caught on the hidden tree roots and landed head first. From her periphery, Attila visibly rolled his eyes to the fourth dimension.
Begrudgingly, he helped her to stand up. "What did I do to deserve this," he muttered to himself.
For hours, they were just walking in an unpleasant silence. Her ankle hurt when she walked, not that she would admit any of it. She forced herself to move, matching his pace. They made one pit stop for lunch, but the Hun warrior sat a distance away from her. She tried to strike up a conversation about the weather, the landscape, the food (or the lack thereof) or any other pedestrian topic. But Atilla was a far worse conversationalist than Shang. All his responses consisted of unimpressed, muted gazes or sarcastic eye rolls.
The next day, she was determined to address this childish behaviour.
"Morning," she greeted him as she saw him coming out of the inn. He said nothing. Just pretending that she was some imaginary shadow that was following him.
"Are you seriously going to avoid me the entire week?"
"Yes, if I could."
"Right then," she decided, slung her pack, and took the opposite direction to where they were supposed to be going. "I guess this is my chance to make a run and never return to…" Suddenly, two strong hands pinned her to the wall. She yelped in surprise.
"I can kill you here and tell the Princess the wild animal got you in the forest, you know that?" he hissed.
She struggled out of his grip. "But you didn't," she dared him.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "What is your problem?"
"I should be asking you that."
He continued to glare at her. "I don't like Chinese people like you. Satisfied now? Can we get on with this nonsense so we all can go home?"
Mulan knew the reason for Atilla's aversion to her people. But not all Chinese had done horrific war crimes the way his father did. She wasn't entitled to this racism. But prodding into a sensitive topic when she was alone together with a potentially vicious Hun was not a wise move to make.
"Hurry," he barked when she trailed further than he would have liked. She relented and followed him within earshot.
"You know, you are not the only person who has a problem with… the past," she said carefully.
He stopped at his track, whirled around on his heel and stalked towards her, but Mulan held her ground. "Don't talk like you know me," he warned.
She tried to walk beside him as he paced in front of her. "I know deep down you are not a nasty person. Just when you were…"
His patience ran out. He pushed and grabbed her by the neck. "When I what? Grab your asset? You think I am a nice guy just because I didn't end up tearing your clothes apart?" he snorted, hearing her startled yelp. "Don't worry… I'm not interested."
"Geez, that sentiment is mutual," Mulan grunted as she pushed him away from her. But it crossed her mind what kind of horrible thing could happen to her. He could've crossed the line, and no one here wouldn't even care.
"You're scared?" he laughed wickedly when he saw she swallowed. "Given the same situation, I won't hesitate this time. You don't have to pretend to be brave."
She frowned, "I'm not the one who is pretending. You are."
That was the final insult to the injury. But this time, when he stalked back towards her to grab her collar, she deftly sidestepped and grabbed his wrists. "In Wuzong, remember? You've told Ling. You've said to him that I was injured. You didn't let me bleed to death."
"So what?!" She could feel his anger rising.
"You helped me, your enemy. Once, my father told me that being a human is a given, but keeping our humanity is a choice." Attila stared bewildered, withdrawing his hands.
Mulan took the chance to place her fist in her palm, expressing her gratitude. "I owe you one. Thank you."
"What?" He blinked, and his rage seemed to abate gradually. Among anything that would happen during their heated discussion, having Ping sincerely thanking him was certainly not one of them.
"I said thank you," Mulan repeated, patting his shoulder as she passed him. Your mother would be proud."
He stalled before turning away and began to catch up with her. "Thank me later when you stay alive at the end of this." But his tone pronounced no venom.
Out of curiosity, to prove his kingdom's ill situation as illustrated by Prince Qinglong, Mulan made a pit stop in the town west of the Qin capital city—a completely random, unresearched spot.
"So, your idea for us to blend in while observing this place is by becoming a rickshaw driver?" Attila said incredulously.
"Yeah, and one of us can rest while the other drives. Look, we even solve the problem of carrying suspiciously large packs," she gestured towards their… but mostly his jumbo-sized baggage.
He riveted his eyes on her, "Don't you dare criticise my packing skill!"
"Hey!" she lifted both hands in a placating gesture. "I am just suggesting a better, faster way to transport our stuff without causing permanent damage to our spine. Your packing skill is just… fine!"
His face was still grim, but the glint in his eyes said no resistance.
"And to be a rickshaw driver, one must own a rickshaw, and to own one, you need money," he pointed out, somewhat in a less accusing tone.
She might have been an Emperor Consort but was poor as a temple mouse. The only valuable things attached to her were her clothing (she was under the impression that her silk underwear must have cost a farmer an entire year of salary), an ivory hairpin, a gold brooch that she kept in her bag, and the jade pendant that Shao bestowed as her engagement gift. "We sell these," she offered, ignoring his grumble of protest at her being illogical and rash.
He watched her shed her expensive woollen outfit and sash and pull out the pin and brooches from her sack in exchange for a poorly sewn cotton dress. Within less than an hour, all were sold, albeit not fetching as much money as they initially thought.
"I say for someone who just wants to observe, you went into too much trouble," Attila shook his head, incredulous. But the man decided to play along. So, hours later, they got the main props to their disguise, only one problem.
"You sprained your ankle?!" he whined, hands clenched on his hair. Mulan worried he might pull them all off his scalp.
"Err… sort of?" she cowered slightly, failing to take even two steps without feeling sharp pain down her right leg. Earlier in the journey, she didn't dare make it a big deal, worrying it would make the sour situation worse. Besides, she could walk fine—almost. So, the thought of informing him hadn't crossed her mind.
"Oh, come onnnn…," he groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "If you want me to pull it, just say it."
"Do I look like someone who liked to pretend losing to a man to you?" she exasperated.
He let a deathly glare as a reply. "Sorry," Ping swallowed an embarrassed laugh as she clutched her poorly insulating clothing against cold autumn winds. He let out a frustrated sound, perhaps wishing he could ignore the sound of her teeth rattling.
He ran his palms down his face. "Fine."
He walked to the front of the rickshaw, tossing his robe at her and staring like a principal scolding a naughty five-year-old in the school office. "But promise me this," he whispered with a dangerous, low voice. What happens in Qin stays in Qin!"
She gulped and smiled sheepishly, "Y-yes, Sir."
That was how Mulan got herself a rickshaw and a half-naked driver.
They walked around town until late. Hungry and cold, Atilla berated himself for playing hero and agreed to escort a crazy Chinese consort who behaved more like a newspaper reporter. He watched Ping as she interviewed a few townspeople, jotting down figures, looking at dilapidated buildings, surveying the paddy fields, or just watching people passing by.
Attila found himself in an awkward, idle disposition, topless and cold. A few ladies, with eyes pointing at him, giggled coquettishly behind their fan and went past just so they could greet him (or may have seen him flexing his pecs slightly). He pinched the bridge of his nose (mentally, of course). He was never interested in Chinese women. But despite the prejudice, he gathered his polite smile and turned to greet them.
Even though the Qin citadel was a sight to behold, most of the suburban areas were quiet and very poorly developed. The alleyway was dark, and the road was unkempt, with lines of crumbling empty establishments or quaint little shops. It was clear everyone in the area was struggling.
From the first moment they arrived, Ping enthusiastically talked with a few passersby. Seeing the poverty level, it was no surprise to him when someone snatched Ping's lunch from right under her nose. They chased this person, only to find out it was a boy, who couldn't be older than ten.
"You are that hungry?" she asked, looking at the frightened boy crutching on the ground under Atilla's beastly glare.
"Wait here," she said, pulling her bow and arrow while looking around. Within less than five minutes, she managed to hunt two pigeons. "Here," she handed the birds to the gaping boy who was now staring smittenly at her. "You can cook this or sell it to someone."
Concerned about the diversion, Attila nudged her to go, and when they did, the boy ran and skidded to a halt in front of them, "I like you. Come and be my wife!" he proclaimed.
"You can't have her as your wife," he said wryly, ignoring the crow and giggle of amused bystanders.
"Why not?" the boy challenged before a look of realization cascaded on his face. Are you… her husband?"
"What? I'd rather become an eunuch!"
Ping rewarded him with a firm slap on the back.
"He is frenemy," Ping explained, smugly glancing at him while he was still nursing the spot where she had hit him. "Why are you alone here? Where are your parents?"
"I went out because I'm hungry, and there is no food at home."
Mulan peeked into her sack. There was not much food left but enough for a modest supper. "I have a few cold bean buns and a little bit of rice. Perhaps they will taste better if you can find somewhere to heat them up."
The boy's face lit up like a firework. "Follow me!"
As laughable as the boy's proposal was, their meeting became the pivotal turning point in the story. It turned out that he was one of the sons of the village elders. He took them home and introduced her to his father, who was very much besotted as much as the boy. Attila didn't get it. In Mongolia, a woman who could hunt was nothing special, while in China, they were treated like gods. Ironically, it was taboo for men here to teach their women to hunt, for their women belonged in the kitchen and bedroom. This nonsensical foreign approach was, to this day, a mystery to him.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the woods. She asked him to teach a few locals the art of foraging and hunting as an alternative way to survive. (And to Atilla's discomfit, the hunting demonstration involved more women cooing and winking at him. He glanced at Ping with a deeply sardonic look, and she just grinned and shrugged helplessly. That little twerp!)
After spending a few days with Ping, one thing became clear to him: Ping had this idealism envisioning a world where everyone lived in peace, had plenty….and sat equally. Sky was literally her limit. Somewhat naive, really. But Ping's positive outlook on life and her endless optimistic attitude were infectious and allowed her to fight for those who were important to her. And seemed like she would stop at nothing. Atilla wondered where the girl got the drive.
One evening, they heard a scream from a nearby alley and went to check. A young woman was struggling as two rough-looking young men were snatching her purse and hairpins. As Atilla had predicted, the ever-impulsive Ping spontaneously jumped into action. Ping called it bravery. Attila called it recklessness (and stupidity).
Thankfully, Ping was not the only impetuous individual at the scene. Another man, with a plain black silk robe, passed from the opposite direction from the woman. He couldn't see the man clearly, for he was wearing a hat, and his mouth was half-covered with a woollen scarf he wore over his neck. He managed to hit one of the thugs with his umbrella expertly and extricated the woman out of danger. His partner in crime cursed and tried to slash him with his machete, but the mysterious stranger skilfully dodged or avoided every single one of them.
For a moment, he was just watching from a discreet distance, praying that the gods were holding Ping from having any feral reaction and rushed to join in. Until another two men, one with a beard and looking reasonably older, rushed from behind and drew their weapons to aid the black man in the silk robe. Three of them disarmed the thugs within a split second. He thought Ping would be delighted. She wasn't playing vigilante alone. There were others like her. But instead, she looked conflicted.
One of the other nights, he and Ping were invited for dinner by the head of the village. Ping, as usual, keenly advertised her help in the kitchen, which ended with her spilling her soup over the only linen robe the village elder had. She apologised profusely but still went on to help take care of the kids instead. Soon, there was clapping and chorused admiration as a bunch of eight to ten years old watched Ping demonstrate some Kung Fu acrobats (which included some unintentional falling), which, if Atilla wasn't being his cranky self–was quite endearing to watch.
"Didn't know you are good at entertaining," he said.
"You call me falling over the chair and tripping over the rug entertaining?" she faked an offended snort.
"The children," he pointed out with his eyes at the messy, squealing bunch. "They love you."
Unexpectedly, her stare became pensive. "Yes… I do love….children." There was a hollow longing in her voice. It crossed his mind that she might miss her own children. That these bunch of rowdy hellions reminded her of them.
But Ping didn't dwell on her sadness long. She soon helped the women tuck their children to bed, promising an arrow target lesson the next day. Moments like this made him realise that Ping was not like any other Chinese woman he ever met. She might not be the prettiest, the most elegant, nor attractive, but she was certainly the warmest and most courageous at heart. And he should be proud of having her as a friend.
The moon had risen and was glowing softly through the clouds, like foxfire in mist by the time Shao entered the Forbidden Palace.
"Your Highness, welcome home," Baoxi greeted as he stepped out of his royal palaquin. A few other eunuchs and advisors were quick to swarm around him.
"I take it your journey to the Qin's kingdom has been successful?" Meng Wu scuffled next to him as they made their way to his quarter.
"Call Hanjin. I would like him to draft a schedule for financial and food donations to the Qin."
"Isn't we offered a few times before, and they refuse?"
"This time, just act anonymously."
"Of course, Your Majesty," the advisor chorused from his side.
"Your Majesty," Meng Wu began again as they entered the inner court of the imperial chamber. He scuffled a polite distance so the chambermaid could exchange his travelling robe for his comfortable loungewear. One of his servants was wiping his feet as he sipped warm camomile tea. "I know you must be exhausted from your trip, my liege, but we need to discuss something immediately."
"Go on," he said, ordering the other advisor to bring this week's provincial report into the library.
"Our intel spotted an entourage of Qin's soldiers led by Prince Qinglong heading to the Hun's main encampment."
"Were they attacking the Huns?" he asked, pouring more tea into the cup.
"At the beginning, it appeared to be so, Your Highness. But later on, they seemed to be engaging in a… peaceful talk."
He glanced briefly at Master Peng, who was still standing there as if inviting his opinion. "Your Majesty, a common enemy will likely unite two opposing nations," the old general offered his thought.
"Exactly my worry, General," Meng Wu replied in agreement. If the Qin and Huns united against them, this could spell damnation to the Middle Kingdom.
"Emperor Hanzu won't betray our trust. I freed his kingdom and gave his father's throne back," Shao responded.
"But how about Prince Qinglong? You yourself know how bitter rivalry among royalties could be," Meng Wu expressed his concern.
"It might be a good idea to dress our troops and let them march in uniform around the border. It will give the illusion that the kingdom is well fortified–a good deterrent for any intention of ambush," Shao decided. Next to him, Master Peng seemed to nod in silent agreement to his strategy. "Meanwhile, we continue to monitor the situation with the Qin and the Huns."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Meng Wu bowed as he exited.
"You wish to say something else, Master Peng?" he watched his general stare at him with curious eyes. "Have you not lectured me enough about my reckless behaviour in Qin lately? Don't worry; I have no plan to confront anyone empty-handed anymore."
The general apologetically placed his fist in his palm, "You've done so many bold and selfless feats these past few months, Your Majesty. Pardon my interruption during the scuffle. I was overly concerned about your safety."
"I am sure my father or Zetian could take the throne if anything happens to me. Besides, I'm not stupid. After you all know what I had done to my uncle and General Li Jiang, you wished me nothing but death."
Master Peng knelt and saluted him again. "If I may be so bold to say….. I have changed my assessment about you, Your Honor."
"Really?" he tried not to sound sceptical.
"Yes," the old general answered him with precise sincerity. "I was wrong about you."
"Oh?" Shao was left bewildered. Never in his wildest dream did he foresee that his uncle's loyalists would willingly submit themselves to him.
"I am not the only one who witnessed how hard you worked. Even with Empress Zetian's absence, all internal and external matters seemed to be dealt with in a timely manner. Not to mention your excellent judgement and wisdom." There was no hesitation in his eyes.
"Meaning?"
"You can put personal grudges aside. For example, the way you handle General Yan Shu's case." Rumour had been rampant about his scandalous affair with the Empress. His sudden departure was just adding fuel to the fire.
Shao's heart twisted. Despite many months that had gone by, the sting of Zetian's betrayal was still raw. But he knew he deserved that.
"You gave him an early retirement. You even paid him a handsome pension," Master Peng reminded him.
"What else can I do?" he exasperated, feeling the old master was implicitly criticising him.
"My apology if this sounds patronising," he said. "But if you pursue the matter and General Yan Shu was proven guilty, he could be executed." For those who serve the Emperor, the distinction between honour and loyalty was very clear: the only thing that could cleanse the stain of treason was the death of the traitor – or their success. But in this case, Shao had decided neither.
"As furious as you are, you acted tactfully. You paid his mother a silent money and got him a bride as a cover. In your benevolence, you are keeping his integrity as your General and protecting the reputation of your Empress. By letting him live, you were dismissing their allegation. And in your wisdom, you understand that this way…the rumour of their involvement would die off in due time. It was a wise choice," the old master was beaming with pride.
Shao exhaled in relief. "I am pleased to hear that." Reflecting back, it was a hard decision. Yes, he wanted Yan Shu to disappear forever, to burn in a hellfire and be lost to the elements of this earth. But if he did, Zetian would never forgive him. She was too, would be lost to him forever, the same way Mulan was after he...–.
"Thus… I am sure all the councilmen, advisors and Generals agree," Master Peng's earnest voice interrupted his thought. "...that you have turned into a fine king. I, on behalf of the three generals, swore our loyalty and our lives to your throne," he said with moving sincerity.
"Well, thank… thank you." This was the approval he had yearned for, but why it didn't make him elated? Or proud? In fact, he was washed over by a strange twinge of sadness. And Master Peng seemed to notice that too.
"Your Majesty. I've served your family for over twenty-five years," he said soothingly. Shao stared at the old general and suddenly wished his father was there. Yes, they often did not see eye to eye, but at least he could find some form of comfort and intimacy in their short…. often confrontational conversation."And your uncle…. he was a great emperor… but he was not perfect. No one is perfect," Master Peng added. Even Shao himself had seen the silent struggle in his uncle's eyes. There were some solitary moments when he caught his uncle pondering outside his veranda, and the torment was so real.
"In my years serving him, I understood that being an Emperor is not easy," Master Peng continued. "One can not show any vulnerability or weaknesses. It can be a very lonely place."
"You are saying I have vulnerability or weaknesses?" He didn't feel insulted; instead, he was just… curious.
Master Peng gave a pause before dropping the bomb. "Fa Mulan, Your Majesty."
The name burned into his heart. Mulan, oh… how he missed her. It's been months since her disappearance and there was not one day he spent without thinking about her. After weeks of unfruitful attempts to find her, he had to step back and reassess the situation. Shao knew he couldn't keep spending the palace's finite resources and his time on trivial things like finding his concubine. Most of his officers: general, advisor and councillors would throw snide remarks behind his back, and he understood all too well how his people's unhappiness would translate into rift, unrest, coup de etat … even possibly civil war.
He recalled the relief that washed over him when Emperor Hanzu's letter asked whether he had sent his consort on a diplomatic mission to visit the Qin kingdom. He was alarmed at first when he knew she was there with Hun's spies, the very people who hated her. But further intel confirmed that she was unharmed and wasn't being treated as a prisoner. He knew exactly why she hadn't returned, and he couldn't rein a sting of jealousy from seizing his body and soul. But that wasn't important. His feeling wasn't important. What's important was she was still alive and well.
"So you knew?" he said resignedly.
"About the letter from Emperor Hanzu? Yes," Master Peng said. "I saw the Qin's messenger, so I enquired of him. My apology if I was crossing the line."
If any of his generals was discerning and had a knack for reading what was going on with him, it was Master Peng. The old man watched him grow from a spoilt little boy into a gambling philander before reigning as an emperor. Given his bad track record as a young, privileged noble, it was only natural if his general was very sceptical of his rate of success in leading a country. Yet, despite his scepticism, Master Peng was still there serving his throne staunchly. His undying loyalty was very much commendable.
"No, none taken," he replied.
"I'm surprised you didn't immediately send anyone to fetch her back…. Or express any concern when the Qin attacked the Huns knowing she was there in the very thick of it," the old general expressed.
He said nothing but he hadn't been able to keep a bitter smile from his face. Concerned? Of course! Very Much. Especially knowing Shang was there. Shang, who had been a man closer than a brother to him. A man who had become a defector and chose to side with his enemy. And the only man who Mulan would ever lo…–.
"Considering she had played diplomats and now having the Huns and the Qin joined hands together against us, I see it as a good thing that you didn't do any action trying to bring her back…" Master Peng trailed off, pity warring his face. "We all know how much you love her."
His heart raged in his breast as he fought the tears that burned his eyes, and his throat was swollen with things he had no words for. He was prepared to send battalions to defeat and flatten Mongolia to the ground to get her. He would travel to the hell and back. And for her, he would fight again…raise his sword again. Heaven knew he was even willing to give up his throne for her. He opened his mouth, about to say it out loud, but he remembered the warrior's promise.
This was duty. This was just a show.
If he thought of any of it real, it was his own foolishness.
This was his punishment. This was karma.
"I am a Middle Kingdom's Emperor first. Her husband second. And I wish to give my people what they deserve," he said with a fierce self-discipline not to let his true feelings slip. "As a wise man told me once before: any country ruled by a king who prioritised one individual….his kingdom will fall into ruin."
…marriage can be annulled in no time, but a broken heart and friendship will take longer to heal. Ting Ting's words from before echoed in his head.
I'll show you, Mulan. He promised in his heart. I show the man that I am. The man who loves you more than anything. Anything.
But as for now, this was how it should be. All things considered. So it was good that she held herself so carefully away from him, from all that he was, from his unfortunate habit of destroying everything he tried to hold on to.
Given the past history, Mulan didn't expect any pomp and circumstance when arriving back at the Qin Palace. But she wasn't expecting to be captured either, considering that she carried a formal invitation from Prince Qinglong himself. It turned out that the peace-loving emperor was less than agreeable when it came to anyone whom he perceived as a threat to his throne. He threw her into the dungeon with maximum security in place. Thankfully, Attila managed to escape unnoticed.
It was late in the evening when Emperor Hanzu checked on his important inmates.
"So, I guess your Lord Husband didn't know that you are taking shelter with the Huns," Emperor Hanzu paced in front of her cell. "Who do you think you are, Consort Fa…that you play diplomats without your husband's approval? And work for my brother behind my back?"
"Your Majesty, this is a misunderstanding," Mulan replied stiffly. "I am not working for him."
"You are working with him? Still, makes no difference to me," he snorted.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty. There is a massive difference. Working for suggests that I am under his command with limited opinion of my own…. while working with implies that I proactively agree to help him at my will."
The Qin Emperor riveted his eyes on her. "I guess you really like living dangerously."
"Apologise for my insolence, but your brother thinks you might listen to me because you owe me your life. He believes that the country needs some positive changes, and I think…"
"...that he is right?" He crossed his arms. She wasn't about to say that. But he got the insinuation. Fine.
"Have you ever walked around your kingdom and talked to the peasants to understand their struggle?"
He scoffed. "What I inherit here ultimately is the legacy of your kingdom. We were held captive for decades, and whatever this land's resources, the Middle Kingdom had greedily squandered. And as a captive kingdom, we had no other choice but to comply."
"It's never too late to rebuild your kingdom," she offered.
He stared at her pointedly. "Easy for you to say. It would take decades to undo what your kingdom had done to mine. My brother prefers to build a kingdom with a strong army and lead it with a sword. I don't agree with that."
"At least your brother cares about these people," she blurted without thinking—wrong move.
His face suddenly closed off. Mulan berated her blunder. "So you are one of his little supporters."
"No, Your Majesty. I am not siding with anyone," she tried desperately to win him over. Alas, she knew it was a futile effort. The door was already closed. "But your people are in pain… they are suffering, and it's your job as a ruler to…"
"Don't lecture me about suffering! Isn't you the daughter of a strategist who had a sheltered life, a place to live and food on her table? Yes, I know everyone around here lost someone to war.. to illness… to many things. But imagine being rich yet having nothing? Being free yet tormented? being alive yet unwanted?" He closed his eyes for a moment, grief emerging in the lines of his face.
"Your Majesty," she implored. "Rebuilding your kingdom is hard, but it is not impossible. I'm sure even Emperor Shao agreed… and he will gladly help. Let me send a message to him…"
"You think he'll listen to you?" he cut her curtly. "In my assessment, I'd say you rather enjoy your current life with the Huns. You can hunt, ride horses and fight! Don't you think your Lord Husband can't see the possibility that you've staged your own kidnapping to be free of suffocating life in the court? To be free of….him?" his voice boomed, echoing on the wall of the dungeon.
Mulan's eyes flow open. The accusation was sharp and hurtful, but she could not deny if it were partially true. "I've never…"
"Quiet!" he barked. "You've told too many lies. It's only logical if anyone has trouble believing you."
"But I…"
"Just count it a blessing that you are Emperor Shao's favourite wife. You might be a good pawn if someday he decides to change his mind about any of us," he said with a note of finality. And he left the dungeon, dismissing Mulan's word of protest.
The next morning, another uninvited guest arrived at the Qin palace, demanding the Emperor's attention. Right before breakfast was served, the guard reported that a man, the head of the village Zhou-Tong, had been insistent and waited the whole night just to have an audience with him. Hanzu was not in the mood to listen to complaints, petitions or any sort. Still, he wasn't fond of sitting together with his older brother for breakfast either, especially after he uncovered his brother's dirty little secret.
Fine. This better be important.
It turned out that it wasn't a complaint, plea or any form of discontent. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
"Your Highness, I came to return this," the man was in his thirties but looked like he was sixty. He was skinny, with a protruding cheekbone and thinning hair. He came with a wooden pendant in his hand. "She said she had an audience with you here yesterday. Please, my liege, would you pass my gratitude and return this to her."
"You know her?" he couldn't resist to ask. It was just a wooden pendant, nothing looking expensive or important. Yet the man had made this long journey to return it? There must be a story behind this. So, he enquired.
"As you might have heard, Your Majesty, our village is strangled by terrible famine…" he coughed and judging from the countenance, it would suggest infective disease than a mere airway clog up. The guard was about to drag him out when Hanzu signalled otherwise.
"Go on."
"Ping, her name was. She stayed with us for a week," the man continued. "She brought this type of grain called silver rye. She said these types of grains thrive in cold, arid climates. The Mongolians farmed these to supplement their hunting. They've tried to grow various kinds of grain that suit harsh conditions. Since then, they were able to cultivate some and then bred a better, more resilient kind than what we have here." The man showed him a sample of the seed inside the small pocket-size sack he carried.
Hanzu was slightly taken aback. He heard that most of the towns in the east were running out of food and money. His councillors had been reporting that for nearly a year since his reign. Due to the long drought and cold winter, the harvest was failing. Criminal gangs are rampant, not all driven by greed but by need. His advisors discussed it long and hard about it. Still, for every penny that was earned, there was always something else more important to address… like securing their borders, paying the public servants wages to run his new office, rebuilding the citadel, funding a diplomatic mission to ensure what had happened to his kingdom in the past …won't happen again. In the past, the colony tax collected from his citizens was taken to the Forbidden Palace to enrich other parts of the Wei Kingdom, so even though the Qin's treasury had been frugal, there were very small funds for him to play around. Yet, when Emperor Shao offered to return the money, he politely refused it.
A city built with brick and mortar would crumble, but a kingdom built with blood and sacrifice would stand forever. He remembered what his father had said.
Shao had been kind. But Hanzu still had pride as an emperor and didn't want to owe this foreign prince anything. He wanted Shao to see that his country still had the ability to stand and rebuild itself with its own strength and not be indebted to its captor. Even if it would take them decades, they would stand proudly for their achievement, and this was what he envisioned. Except, this wasn't what happened.
While he was torn between choosing his people over his dignity as their king, this woman came and showed his citizens how to survive his incompetent government. How embarrassing.
"Because grain and pulses would take a while to grow," the man said zealously, and Hanzu snapped back into attention. "Ping taught some of our men to hunt. Her friend, a Hun man, was there too. He is an excellent hunter, showing us the trick of the trade," the man narrated with eyes gleaming with admiration. "Now, we have meat that would sustain us for weeks."
The rest of the story dissolved in the background, together with his thoughts. Was his father had been wrong about choosing him? Had his brother been right that he didn't deserve the throne?
"Consort Fa, here are your fresh clothes. His Highness has invited you to the main hall afterwards."
The room she was in was a far cry from the dungeon underneath where she spent the night. Here, the servants drew her a warm bath, put her on a silk robe, and then served her breakfast, which she polished in record time. Emperor Hanzu made his appearances briefly. He was warm and apologetic, very much different from the aloof, indifferent king she had seen two days earlier. She tried to ask what had happened after he returned her necklace, but the Emperor quickly steered the conversation towards the plan of a few big changes to his policy, including agreeing to the Middle Kingdom's offer of assistance. He also promised that he would discuss the matter of who sat on the throne with his brother and their advisor amicably. Since the goal had been achieved, Mulan let her curiosity put to rest.
Just as she thought there wouldn't be any more surprises, Xu-Shan, the Qin palace butler, entered and announced. "Your Majesty, someone is here to collect Consort Fa."
They hastily packed her stuff and added gifts and delicacies, presumably as an apology. Mulan stepped outside, expecting Ba'atar, Attila or Chu'ulun to be there. Or maybe it was Princess Altan since she had an affinity for arguing with powerful men. She wouldn't miss this opportunity of hackling with not one but two princes to hand over her prisoner.
Except that she wasn't there.
Shang was.
Zetian was reading the provincial report when she heard familiar footsteps coming from her door. "My Princess."
"Ah, Baoxi!" It's been weeks since she hadn't seen him. This was expected as he was no longer her designated servant after her move to the Fujian palace. In fact, he wasn't supposed to be here at all. "Come in…. Come in. You brought news?"
"Yes, this is the report I collected from a few informants," Baoxi said, pulling a scroll from under his sleeve. You are right. General Zhi had been working with someone to secure the rescue of Princess Wei Ting from a bunch of thugs."
Zetian perused the scroll, which contained a list of names.
"They aren't bandits," Baoxi elaborated. "The informant said….they were paid to do this."
Mercenaries, Zetian thought ruefully. The robbery, the murder, and the search were all just deceptions. He had hired these hit men to play baddies and follow General Li and Princess Wei Ting. It also explained how General Zhi swiftly found and rescued Princess Wei Ting.
"They are a new emerging rebel group, but they welcome private engagements such as this to fund their cause. Red Claw is the name."
"Has this been brought to the Emperor's attention?"
"Yes, My Princess. I heard the name was mentioned in their weekly meeting. But I think neither the advisors nor the generals are aware of General Zhi's relationship with the gang."
"Cunning man," Zetian marvelled. General Zhi killed his own colleague to get promoted and replaced him. Having the Emperor's good side for saving his sister was a welcomed bonus. It was like killing two birds with one stone!
"What do you think they want, this rebel group?"
"They wanted a change, a revolution, a nation where everyone was equal. They had a large, growing popularity from the north and east provinces."
Zetian had a fair share of hearing about a number of insurgents. Countless rebel groups had come and gone during her father's reign. All passionately fought for various ideals. At the end of the day, they became dictator themselves when they reigned. So, her father's approach was always to take a swift move to silence them. Given time, rebels would always spell damnation to any clan in power.
"How's…the Emperor?" she asked haltingly.
"He is….busy, trying to keep his head above the water."
He needs help. Zetian was surprised by her own thoughts. How could she commiserate with a jealous man who imprisoned her here? Or pity a guy who selfishly took her father's life to steal his throne? She should be pleased if heaven decided this would be his payback time. Yet she was oddly not comforted by the thoughts of seeing his end.
"Are you thinking of returning to Forbidden Palace?" Baoxi asked, reading her face. Well, what else should she do here? She had rested, given birth, recuperated, even though her baby was…
"After what happened, don't you need some time off?"
Zetian sighed. It was strange that she hardly mourned her child's death. Yes, for a week, she shed sad tears and grieved for him, but part of her was relieved he didn't have to live and face the torment of being a bastard child under the thumb of a jealous stepfather.
"I've done being sad," she told him lightly. "Besides, I miss the normalcy in the court." However, life in Forbidden Palace won't be the same. She would miss Yan-Shu there. Imagining him standing on the threshold of her quarter, donning his guard attire. She would miss his kind, grey eyes, his warm embrace and his soothing voice. His love was honest and fierce like a glowing ember in the winter nights, keeping her sane and alive. But she would lie if she said she didn't miss Shao too. The quiet admiration in his eyes when she said something clever in front of the court, the small yet passionate gesture of intimacy when no one was looking or the snobbish way he announced to everyone that she was his. Love was indeed a mystery.
"You don't think that he…. would welcome me back home? Would you?"
The eunuch blinked, perhaps not believing the desire behind her words. Then he answered with a tremble of anger in his voice. "My Princess, no one should apologise for loving someone."
Zetian held her gaze. An understanding passed between them, and she smiled. Baoxi was such a loyal advocate. "I know what you are thinking. Shao had to be the most frustrating man you've ever known. You had to wonder why I still put up with him. But even if he is awful to me, he is good to the nation. And what my father wanted is to see this nation prosper."
In front of her, Baoxi bit his lips, refraining from speaking his mind. He disagreed, she knew without him saying. Because no good deeds would erase the crime that he did.
"Which brings me to my next request, " Zetian rolled the scroll neatly and kept it inside her drawer. "I want to talk to the leader of Red Claw. Can you help arrange the meeting?"
"My Princess?" Baoxi stared incredulously. "You can't talk to these people. They are dangerous. You've seen what they are capable of doing."
"If General Zhi can strike a sweet deal with them, I believe I can do the same… or even better. After all, I am the Empress," she said with such stubborn expression. "Book me a private room at the Jade restaurant. Tell the leader I am interested in engaging him. Meet me there."
"But, My Princess… who are you thinking of…?"
"It's time to settle the score straight," she said resolutely. "That barbarian princess should know that some debts can't be paid with money."