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When Shang is ten years old, his father puts a toy sword into his hand.
“It is an honorable thing, to defend the helpless. You must work to be strong, my son, so that others may depend on your protection.”
He practices every day for weeks, then months, and then years. He grows, goes off to the military academy, and comes back home in his new armor to find himself, surprised, looking down at his father rather than eye to eye.
His father only grins at him. “I see they fed you well, while you were away.”
Shang blushes, but he’s pleased. And he’s proud, because he was the top student in his class, and he knows his father – recently promoted to one of the Emperor’s chief generals – is honored by his dedication.
The armor still doesn’t feel like it fits quite right, though.
His first night back, he and his father have dinner together. They aren’t at the family home, which is two days’ travel from the Imperial City, but rather at the house within the city that his father purchased when he was promoted. Shang can see the towers of the palace from his seat at the table, and still can’t quite believe it.
“There are reports of skirmishes at the northern border,” his father tells him over their meal. “His Excellency is concerned the Huns will invade before long.”
Shang swallows a mouthful of rice and pork. “What’s he like? The Emperor?”
His father hums. “He is very wise, and cares deeply for the people. He is sure of his decisions but listens to his council. The most influential of the lot is a fellow named Chi Fu.” His father rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen him terrorizing his clerks for the smallest misstep.”
Based on the last statement alone, Shang knows what his father’s real opinion is of this councilor without having to hear the words; he wonders why the Emperor keeps him around if he has such little honor.
The next few days pass in relative quiet. His father is at the palace daily, in meetings and providing his own council to the Emperor, but he is always home for dinner and Shang savors the time spent together.
Then, two weeks after his own return, a messenger come to their door as they’re finishing dinner.
He knows immediately it’s bad news; his father’s eyes narrow in anger, and he stands from the table quickly, telling the servants to ready his horse and armor.
“What’s happened?” Shang follows him to his rooms.
“The Huns,” his father says. “They invaded much sooner than we thought. They’ve breached the Great Wall. And that barbarian, Shan Yu, is leading them.”
Shang feels something in him go cold. Shan Yu is known for his tactics – burning villages to the ground, not bothering to spare women or children.
A monster like that, in China…
He watches his father, in full armor now, stride into the courtyard and over to his horse.
“I’ll be ready when you return,” Shang says.
His father nods. “I fear your education will be tested far sooner than I hoped.”
Shang nods. “We fight for the helpless,” he reminds him.
His father smiles sadly, nodding before riding off for the palace.
Shang goes to his own rooms, packing the essentials and donning his own armor. The servants pack his father’s things, and Shang is waiting, with his horse saddled in the courtyard, when his father returns just before dawn.
They ride off as his father explains the strategy. New recruits, from every village in every province. Shang will be tasked with training the recruits brought to the Wu Zhong camp. His father will accompany him that far before continuing on with his own forces. One of the Emperor’s councilors will be meeting them at the camp, to help oversee the training and write reports on the recruits’ progress.
Shang is nervous, but he spent the hours his father was at the palace speculating what his role would be. He’d not been far off in his guess; all of the more experienced officers will be needed at the front. And he didn’t graduate top of his class for nothing.
The camp is settled in a valley, with mountainous cliffs and streams aplenty nearby. He’s pleased – several training exercises he’d been hoping to use rely on varied terrain.
Then his father spots their assigned councilor, and huffs irritably. Shang is puzzled, until they dismount and his father performs the introductions. “Chi Fu, this is my son, Lieutenant Li Shang. Lieutenant, Chi Fu, one of the Emperor’s chief councilors.”
The man looks – and Shang can’t even feel guilty for the comparison – like a weasel. Thin, scrawny even, with hunched shoulders and beady little eyes that scrutinize Shang from head to toe as if hoping to find some deformity. He clutches his clipboard and brush if they are armor and weapon both.
Shang immediately and vehemently dislikes him.
They enter the tent set aside for their meeting; there is a map on the ground, which his father quickly makes use of.
“We are almost certain that Shan Yu’s main target is the Imperial City. But our chief concern is the villages that lie in the path of his army.”
Shang silently agrees. These villages have all sent their men to training camps – meaning they are essentially left defenseless.
His father dictates his force’s next move, and then – to the surprise of both Shang and Chi Fu – hands him a new sword along with a promotion.
“Perhaps someone with more experience –” Chi Fu tries.
But his father won’t hear it, and the private, twinkling little smile that he sends Shang gives him a bit of iron in his spine.
He clings onto that feeling with both, desperate hands in the following weeks.
It’s not that he expected to find military prowess in a group of merchants and farmers and fishermen. But day after day, that arrow stays at the top of the pole, mocking him with its presence. He’s tempted dozens of times to climb and get it himself, but resists – he wants them to figure it out, he wants them to develop the mentality that solves problems without having the answer handed over.
He is unable to decide, most days, if the most frustrating part of his job is Chi Fu and that infernal clipboard, or the awkward, fumbling farm boy that is somehow the son of a military legend.
Fa Ping gives every indication that he earnestly wants to succeed in whatever task is set before him. Shang can practically hear the kid’s brain whirring at top speed, and he respects that, if only a little.
But the fact remains that he is all limbs, no coordination, and has had more clumsy mishaps than Shang can keep count of. So he does the honorable thing, and sends the boy home so he doesn’t get himself killed.
Then Shang leaves his tent for breakfast the next morning, and is almost impaled with an arrow. He stares at it blankly for a moment before he recognizes it, and then he’s staring up at the training pole – and at Ping, who’s perched atop it with a smug, but relieved, grin.
Shang fights a grin of his own (actually, he’s fighting the urge to jump and down for joy). Ping rejoins everyone on the ground, and looks around, his grin now rather sheepish at the congratulatory welcome by his comrades.
“How’d you do it, Ping?”
“And he didn’t have to use his teeth once, Yao, did you see?”
“That was amazing, I saw you almost fall three times, but you held on!”
Shang lets the boy have his moment – he’s not been blind to the bullying, but he knew interfering would just make it worse – before he clears his throat. Everyone comes to attention. Ping seems to have some kind of internal debate, before marching over and handing him the weights.
“Captain,” he hesitates briefly. “I’ll still leave, if that’s what you think is best. I just wanted to try one more time, sir.”
Shang bites down harder on the grin he wants to let free. “That won’t be necessary.”
Ping beams, so very young, and the rest of the recruits whoop and cheer and carry the kid off to breakfast on their shoulders.
Things get much better after that. Ping doesn’t grow arrogant – another notch in Shang’s opinion of the boy – but his newly found confidence seems to bolster the whole camp. Each training exercise Shang throws at them is completed in near perfection, and he has to admit that he enjoys giving positive feedback instead of pointing out mistakes all the time.
But then, one evening while the soldiers are all out at the lake bathing, Shang tries to convince Chi Fu to send a recommendation to his father that they’re ready to join the fight.
In the span of five minutes, his dislike for the councilor turns into outright loathing. He storms from the tent, only to find Ping, hair still damp from his bath, standing within ear shot.
Part of him wants to snap at the boy for eavesdropping, but he shoves down the urge and settles for angrily walking back to his own tent.
Ping’s assurance catches him off guard, but it’s appreciated. It helps him go to bed without feeling quite so sour – even if Chi Fu thinks so poorly of him, the men he’s trained see the value in what they’ve learned.
Even so, he’s not managed to calm himself enough to go to sleep before Chi Fu bursts into his tent with a missive in his hand and a frantic look in his eyes.
The camp is disassembled the next morning, and they set off for the Tung Shao Pass with an efficiency that makes Shang rather proud.
They make good time, with Ping’s horse pulling the wagon that holds all their cannons. Shang is quietly pleased to see the camaraderie that the boy has now. The way that the other soldiers tease him is no longer malicious, but more brotherly. It still flusters the kid, but he seems to know the intent and no longer looks terrified.
At least, until they reach the remains of the village.
Shang gives the order to search for survivors, knowing perfectly well that they won’t find any. The stench of burnt flesh is ripe in the air, almost stronger than that of the houses and buildings that now stand as charred husks.
He finds Ping inside one house, holding a child’s doll with sorrowful look on his face.
“I don’t understand,” Shang says. “My father should have been here.”
Because he should have been; this was the village his father left to protect. Did something happen, some threat to the Emperor that caused his father to abandon his post?
“Captain!”
The next few minutes are a blur. Later he’ll remember seeing his father’s forces lying in the snow, blood pooled beneath the carcasses of men and white stallions. He’ll remember Chien Po walking up the ridge, sadly handing him a familiar helmet and delivering a blow from which Shang will never recover. He’ll remember his knees, growing cold in the snow, and hearing Ping’s quiet, steady voice behind him.
“I’m sorry.”
Ping’s father still lives, but Shang thinks he might understand a little anyway. Fa Zhou was heavily wounded years ago; the realization that your father is a mere mortal is a difficult thing to swallow for anyone, no matter how harshly the lesson is taught. He touches Ping’s shoulder wordlessly in thanks before rejoining the others.
His men don’t offer condolences or sympathy, only an unwavering, silent presence that Shang finds inexplicably soothing. Even Chi Fu holds his tongue.
It won’t last.
What begins as yet another one of Ping’s clumsy mistakes turns into an outright ambush. Arrows fall upon them like rain, ten of his recruits are killed before they can get out of range, and they lose almost half their cannons when the wagon explodes.
Shang finds himself with a handful of well-trained but inexperienced soldiers, looking up at a veritable host as Shan Yu gathers his forces at the top of the valley.
“Prepare to fight,” he tells his men. “If we die, we die with honor.”
He wishes he had time to explain, to teach them his father’s greatest lesson, that there is no higher honor than to protect the defenseless. But the Huns charge, and Shang tastes metal when he watches Ping steal the last cannon and run straight towards the army that’s descending the slope like a wave.
Ping ignores the repeated, shouted orders to come back, and Shang sprints after the idiot boy in panic. Then the cannon goes off, with Shan Yu nearly within arm’s reach of where Ping is knelt in the snow, and Shang watches in astonishment as one cannon brings down an entire mountainside of snow and ice.
He hears a roar of fury, and sees Shan Yu take an angry swipe with his blade at Ping, who falls to the side and jumps right up again, sprinting away from the avalanche.
Shang doesn’t even realize he’s standing still until Ping snatches him by the arm on his way by. Then the world disappears behind a wall of white and cold, and Shang doesn’t wake up again until Yao is pulling him off the horse and up onto solid ground.
He takes a moment to catch his breath before he starts in on Ping. The boy does seem rather pleased with himself, and even laughs a little at the others’ cheers.
Then Shang pulls him to his feet, and he promptly collapses again with a cry of pain.
Shang is horrified; he’d assumed with how quickly Ping had gotten up that Shan Yu hadn’t managed to land a proper hit. Now it’s clear that adrenaline kept Ping from feeling any sort of injury – adrenaline that is now long gone. The boy faints almost immediately, his side stained with red, and one of the men rides to a nearby village to fetch a healer. He’s back as soon as they’ve erected a tent, and then Shang has nothing to do but pace anxiously. Ping is so young, and the only son of his family. What will Shang tell his parents?
The healer emerges, looking quite surprised, and beckons Shang over.
“What is it? Is it serious?” Shang demands.
“No,” the old man shakes his head. “Your soldier will live, but…you might ask her what her real name is.”
Shang stands very still, watching the man walk away, certain that he must have misheard.
Ask….her real name? Her?
He suddenly can’t tolerate simply standing out in the snow anymore. Ping is lying on a pallet inside, pale and still. But he – he? – wakes up to see Shang, and sits up as if to provide reassurance that the injury isn’t serious.
Shang looks away at the sight of his soldier’s chest bindings, and doesn’t look back despite the calls for him to listen, that there’s an explanation.
Chi Fu then bursts in, and Shang can’t even find it in him to stop the man from dragging the soldier out of the tent.
“I knew there was something wrong with you!” Chi Fu crows, throwing the – still wounded, Shang’s brain unhelpfully reminds him – woman into the snow.
She looks up with a fierce, defiant glare. “My name is Mulan.”
Shang closes his eyes.
“I did it to save my father.”
What is he supposed to say to that argument? With his own father lying cold and still on the other side of this mountain?
“Ultimate dishonor!” Chi Fu is beside himself, shrieking about treason. Then he comes up to Shang. “Captain,” he says expectantly.
Shang grits his teeth, and unsheathes Mulan’s sword. Several of his men gasp in horror, the horse rears back in anger, but Shang is blind to everything but the resigned, disappointed look in Mulan’s eyes.
The shock in them when he throws the sword down in front of her makes him feel sick.
“A life for a life,” he tells her bitterly. “My debt is repaid.”
Chi Fu protests – is the man really going to insist on an execution, when she’s the reason they’re all alive? Shang silences the fool with a dark glare, and leads his remaining soldiers down the mountain toward the glittering web of the Imperial City far below.
The trek is spent in complete silence. No singing, no joking, not even a complaint about the cold or the distance. It makes Shang’s skin crawl, but he’s hardly in a conversational mood himself.
Did I do the right thing? he wonders, wishing desperately he could ask his father. She was still wounded. We left her alone in the snow.
Despite turning the same questions over and over in his mind, he hasn’t reached an answer by the time they approach the city gates. Chi Fu glances at him nervously, and rides ahead to inform the guards that the Huns are defeated, and these soldiers have saved the kingdom.
His lie – because that’s what it is, to pretend it was anyone other than the woman they abandoned in the mountains – gets him a dirty look from every single soldier behind Shang.
They’re shown to some barracks near the palace, and Shang leaves his men behind to follow Chi Fu into the palace itself.
He can’t even be bothered to be impressed by the magnitude of his surroundings. He always thought his first time to the palace would be accompanying his father. Instead he emotionlessly follows Chi Fu down corridors until they reach the cavernous throne room. The Emperor is waiting for them, though he looks confused at Shang’s presence.
“Your Excellency,” Chi Fu bows, with Shang just barely remembering to copy him. “I present Captain Li Shang, the leader of the troops who defeated Shan Yu in the Tung Shao Pass.”
“Captain,” the Emperor says. “Your courage does you credit. May I ask where the General is?”
Shang swallows, hard. “The General perished in the mountains, Your Majesty. Along with all his forces.”
There’s a pause, where the Emperor’s face creases with sorrow. If he says something kind, Shang just might curl up in a ball and weep here and now. Thankfully, the Emperor simply nods after a moment.
“A grave loss for China, and for you, my son.”
Shang bows again, grinding his teeth against the burning in his eyes.
“How did you defeat the Hun army?” The Emperor asks.
Chi Fu opens his mouth, and suddenly Shang can’t stomach the idea of another lie. He cuts off the pompous councilor, not even caring about his rude manners.
“One of my recruits intentionally caused an avalanche, which buried all of Shan Yu’s forces.”
The Emperor raises his eyebrows. “I would like to meet this recruit, to thank him for his creativity on the field of battle.”
Shang hesitates. “Your Excellency, I…”
The Emperor peers at him, much like his father used to. “Come closer to me, Captain.”
Shang obeys, kneeling almost within arm’s reach of the throne. He clears his throat and tries again. “Your Excellency, after the avalanche had settled, it was discovered that the recruit responsible was…is…actually a woman. She stole her father’s armor and took his place in the conscription.”
The Emperor blinks in surprise. “What is her name?”
“Fa Mulan. The daughter and only child of Fa Zhou.”
“I knew there was something wrong with her the entire time,” Chi Fu cuts in, nose in the air. “Always sneaking about, not the behavior of an honest woman.”
The Emperor frowns a little. “Thank you, Chi Fu.” Then he looks down at Shang again. “You are…insulted, by this woman’s deception?”
Shang is surprised by the question, but considers his answer. Is that it, really? Is he simply offended, that Mulan saw him as an obstacle to protecting her father, when in truth Shang would lie to the Emperor himself if it meant getting his own father back?
“I don’t know,” he finally answers honestly. “It was a shock, both to myself and my men. His…her, improvement while in training was a source of morale for everyone. She became…someone that others looked up to.”
The Emperor nods thoughtfully. “What became of this woman?”
“Captain Li refused to execute her according to the law,” Chi Fu says.
“She saved my life,” Shang says, refusing to budge. “I simply repaid the debt.”
The Emperor waves this away impatiently. “Where is she now?”
Shang suddenly cannot quite meet the old man’s eyes. “We left her in the mountains, Your Majesty.”
There’s a moment, where he’s almost positive that disappointment flickers across the Emperor’s face, and Shang suddenly wishes he’d at least brought Mulan to the barracks. She would have been held in custody, but she could have least been warm and had her injury treated.
“I see,” is all the Emperor says. He stands. “Chi Fu, I trust that you will oversee the preparations for the festival to celebrate China’s victory?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The councilor simpers and bows deeply, and Shang just barely manages not to roll his eyes.
“Very good.” The Emperor waves a hand, dismissing them both. “Captain, you and your men will be in the procession, to honor your contributions. That will be all.”
They leave the throne room, and Chi Fu sniffs in disapproval. “You could have refrained from telling him that a woman desecrated his army.”
Shang rolls his eyes, too tired to be threatening. “You mean I could have refrained from telling your boss that you owe your life to a woman.”
Chi Fu bristles, but Shang mercifully parts ways with him before any more barbs can be exchanged. He returns to the barracks to deliver the news to the men.
It seems most of his remaining men are at dinner; but as he approaches an open window he hears voices.
“Yao, what choice did he have?” Ling says sadly.
“We just left her there! She was our friend!” There’s a smacking sound that Shang knows is Yao pounding one fist into the other palm. “We were jerks to her at first! All the trouble we got her into, all the pranks we pulled, and she just forgave us! And we couldn’t forgive her!”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. Shang feels faintly nauseous.
“Look, I understand why you’re upset,” Ling says carefully. “But she didn’t just tell a little lie, Yao. What she did is technically treason.”
“To protect her own father?” Chien Po argues quietly. “Everyone knows that Fa Zhou was badly injured before he retired from the army. He would have never survived another battle. And she must have known that too.”
“I’m not saying I think she should be punished,” Ling says. “I’m saying that Captain Li’s hands were tied. He probably broke a couple of rules by not executing her as is.”
Shang suddenly doesn’t want to hear anymore excuses made for his decision, and enters the room so quickly that all three men startle.
“Captain, we were just –”
He waves off the incoming apology. “It’s alright. The Emperor wants us in a parade tonight, as part of the festivities to celebrate the victory.”
He leaves again without waiting for their response, and delivers the news to the rest of his men in the same mechanical fashion. Then he’s shown to his private quarters, where he bathes, and sits on his bed half dressed.
He thinks back the night that Chi Fu had flayed him open.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great captain.”
Was that a lie, too?
No, is the immediate, instinctive answer.
Mulan had lied. But one thing was clear as she knelt in the snow, exposed and shamed – it hadn’t been easy for her. She wasn’t deceptive by nature, and yet had chosen the burden of guilt that came with living a lie, out of love for her father.
He closes his eyes. Her look of disappointment, before she knew her life would be spared, was so similar to the Emperor’s it was almost eerie. As if he had done exactly what she dreaded, but also expected.
And he had. He’d chosen to care about optics and Chi Fu’s self-righteous anger, rather than care about the real honor of having a soldier who cared enough to put herself at enormous risk – more risk than any of them.
His father would have liked her.
The thought comes to him, so suddenly and abruptly, that Shang can no longer fight the way his eyes water. He lowers his head to his knees and lets the tears fall, silent but heavily.
He knows that his actions indicate that he would rather Mulan know this grief, than have her make a decision that Shang doubts any man – including himself – would have the courage to make. To wish this heartache, this sorrow, on anyone instead of any other alternative….
That is what shames him most of all.
Surely, he could have found a way to express his disapproval for the lie, without saying without words that he wished her father had died instead?
There’s a knock on the door, and a servant’s polite reminder that they’ll need to leave for the festival soon, and does he require anything to eat, or assistance with his armor?
Shang thanks the servant and sends them away. He washes his face, dons his armor with meticulous care, ties the red cape with fingers that feel like they’re made of wood.
Tomorrow, after the celebrations are over, he’ll ride up into the mountains alone. She can’t have gotten far, alone and injured. He’ll escort her home, try to minimize the damage with her village and family.
The men are rather subdued as they line up in formation. Shang’s horse has been immaculately groomed, but his appreciation for this is quashed by the arrival of Chi Fu.
“What is it?” He asks rather harshly.
The councilor harrumphs in offense. “I am to ride with your men.”
“Why? You didn’t do anything to help.” Shang says bluntly.
Chi Fu blusters and huffs some more, but Shang is quite tired of the man. He rolls his eyes and looks ahead, resolving to ignore the weasel until they part ways again – this time hopefully for good.
The parade starts, and Shang feels completely ridiculous. There are fireworks and music and food vendors, children laughing and playing, every street lit with paper lanterns. People are rejoicing – and he’s glad.
But he left her in the snow.
It makes everything taste bitter, to the point where he knows he’s not being fair. In fact, he’s actively trying not to glare at a young boy perched on his father’s shoulders when there’s suddenly a horse walking alongside his.
“Mulan?” He gasps. What is she doing here? How is she sitting upright in the saddle? How did she ride down the mountain with her injury?
“The Huns are alive,” she tells him, frantic. “They’re in the city!”
Chi Fu glances back, face gone sour, and Shang suddenly has visions of Chi Fu dragging her before the Emperor by her hair, insisting on doing things properly this time, of Shang having to find her parents and tell them that their daughter survived the Huns but not the idiocy of social protocols.
“You don’t belong here, Mulan.” He says this harsher than he meant to, but it doesn’t make her pull back in hurt like he’d hoped. Instead her brow furrows, and he recognizes the look from when she was first discovered.
It’s a look that says yes, I’m a woman, and what are you going to do about it?
Fed up with him, she moves her horse to block his path. “You said you trust Ping. Why is Mulan any different?”
He almost laughs in her face. But instead he directs his horse around her, dismissing her without even a look. He hopes that she gets the message and gets herself safely away from Chi Fu and his stupid ideas of propriety.
The men behind him are just as surprised, but more so at her directions to keep their eyes open for any sign of the Huns.
Shang scoffs to himself, yet he can’t help glancing around as he climbs the palace steps. Surely the guards would have noticed anybody lurking behind one of the columns….
And then the hulking figure of Shan Yu is seen on the roof, and the dragon behind Shang rips open to spill out more Hun soldiers than he can take alone. They race up the steps, the doors shut in their faces, the Emperor vanishing behind them, and Shang feels like he’s coming apart at the seams.
A plan is quickly thrown together, a statue heaved up – mostly by Chien Po – and used as a battering ram.
Except, he remembers unhelpfully, that these doors were specifically designed to withstand battering rams. They’ll take forever to break the door down, and the Emperor is alone in the palace with Shan Yu and five other Huns.
A sharp whistle brings their heads around.
“Hey guys! I’ve got an idea!” Mulan runs off, somehow knowing that they’ll follow –
And she’s proven right, almost immediately, because Yao, Chien Po and Ling all desert the statue and follow after her.
Shang watches them go, feeling a bit forlorn but also very, very curious.
In the end, the latter wins out, and he finds them at the base of the columns on the east side of the palace, away from where any of the Hun soldiers might spot them.
He almost laughs at what he finds, seeing three of his soldiers dressed as women, but he also understands instantly what Mulan’s plan is. No one will question the presence of concubines in the palace – it’s the perfect way to sneak in.
His gentle touch at Mulan’s shoulder startles her, but then her surprise morphs into a look of I knew it that makes slinging his cape around the column very, very easy.
They reach one of the balconies with ease, with her climbing nimbly over the railing and then helping the other three, awkward and cumbersome in their gowns. Shang tries to protest when Mulan volunteers herself to check for Hun guards.
“I don’t think you should –” he begins.
Mulan gives him a puzzled look. “But if I’m spotted, it won’t be as suspicious. We’re posing as concubines, so you,” she says this with a pointed look at his armor, “are the one who needs to keep out of sight.”
He closes his mouth awkwardly. Well, then. She disappears through the doorway, and he suddenly notices the other three smirking at him.
“What?” He says irritably.
“Looks like someone’s feeling a little protective,” Ling says.
“I am not!” Shang snaps before he can help it.
“Then…guilty?” Chien Po says gently.
Shang sighs and focuses on retying his cape. He hopes Mulan won’t be long. “Don’t you three feel guilty?”
“Of course we do,” Ling says, surprised. “Especially after that night at the lake…”
Shang’s head whips around so fast he feels his neck protest. “What are you talking about?”
Ling blinks. “Oh…uh…”
“What happened at the lake?” He demands, completely forgetting that they’re currently trying to sneak into the palace and not to raise his voice.
“Nothing happened,” Chien Po assures him. “She was already there when we showed up one night, and I think we must have startled her. But she left soon after, and we never saw anything.”
Shang frowns, and notices that the third member of their little trio has been silent so far. “Yao?”
The surly man sighs. “We didn’t see anything,” he repeats. “But…she saw more than she wanted to.”
Shang blinks. Of all the terrible or embarrassing things that could have potentially happened to her, that never crossed his mind. “…oh.”
“Don’t worry,” Yao mutters, looking distinctly embarrassed. “I’m already planning on offering to marry her if her father gets worked up about it.”
For some reason, this does not comfort Shang in the least. He frowns again, and has his mouth open to argue when Mulan appears in the doorway.
“We’re good, this whole wing is empty.” Oblivious to Shang’s perturbed scowl and Ling’s knowing smirk, she leads them silently through the palace. They find the Huns easily, all five of them clustered around a pair of doors that lead to a staircase, at the top of which is Shan Yu with the Emperor.
Mulan peeks cautiously around the corner, and then turns back to them. “Okay, any questions?”
“Does this dress make me look fat?” Yao asks petulantly, tugging at his sash.
Mulan smacks him, frowning. “It doesn’t matter, Yao. You just have to be able to move in it.”
“How do we…” Ling trails off.
“How do you what?”
“Y’know…flirt? Get them distracted?”
Mulan blinks. “You think I know?”
“Well, you’re a woman,” Ling gestures helplessly.
“That doesn’t mean I’m an expert in –” she begins hotly.
Shang jumps in. “Just…make it up as you go. You don’t have to seduce them, just catch them off guard.”
Mulan gives Ling another irritated glance, before pulling the fan from her sash and leading the way. Shang watches from the shadows; the back-up plan is for him to attack and the others to help him.
But, to his shock, it’s not necessary. The plan works beautifully, and in short order there’s a pile of unconscious Huns beside the door. Mulan pins one with her knees and the soldier’s bow, and shouts for Shang to move.
He has to hide his surprise when he reaches the top of the stairs:
Shan Yu is much bigger up close.
But Shang doesn’t let that stop him, and he quickly gets the brute pinned while Chien Po gets the Emperor off the balcony. Yao and Ling follow close behind, but before he sees Mulan make the jump, Shan Yu breaks the hold Shang has on his arm, and Shang loses consciousness very soon after that.
When he comes to, though, he can tell not much time has passed. Mulan is crouched over him, looking worried, and Shan Yu is standing furiously at the balcony’s railing, his sword wedged deeply within a column, just below the frayed end of a rope.
Shang would give Mulan an incredulous look if his head didn’t hurt so much. Of course she destroyed her means of escape to prevent Shan Yu from reaching the Emperor.
Shan Yu turns towards them again, seething in rage, and Shang barely manages to get Mulan to back up in time.
“You took away my victory!” Shan Yu spits.
Shang blinks in surprise at the shoe that collides with Shan Yu’s head. They both turn to stare at Mulan, who looks almost as angry as Shan Yu.
“No,” she tells him, defiance rolling off of her in waves. “I did.”
She pulls her hair back, and Shan Yu goes rigid.
“The soldier from the mountains,” he says, almost in awe.
Shang doesn’t even have time to try and refute Mulan’s claim; Shan Yu releases him and storms down the stairs after her. From the sound that echoes up a few moments later, he physically beats the door down in his fury.
The balcony is eerily quiet; Shang lies still for a few moments, willing his head to stop spinning and for the taste of metal to leave his mouth. Eventually, he staggers to his feet, gets his sword and uses the wall to keep upright as he slowly finds his way through the palace.
He barely makes it outside when an explosion makes the ground shake; adrenaline prompts him to move faster than his head wants, but he doggedly runs down the steps –
Until something collides heavily with his shoulders, and he falls down again, rolling over to see Mulan staring at him in surprise.
For a moment, he’s speechless.
“Mulan! Captain!” Chien Po appears, the other two not far behind. They help Mulan and Shang get to their feet. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” they say in unison.
Yao rolls his eyes. “Sure you are.”
“Where’s the Emperor?” Shang demands.
“He went in the front entrance,” Ling says, pointing to where some soldiers had managed to open the huge doors. “He had some men inside sweeping the place, but then…” he gestures to the tower that’s currently pouring smoke and fireworks into the night sky.
Mulan winces. “Oops.”
Shang can only stare at the tower in amazement. “How did you do that?”
“Oh.” She blushes a little. “Uh, I just –”
“That was a deliberate attempt on my life!” The voice makes them all jump. “Where is she?”
Shang thinks back to the look Mulan gave him in the mountains, and moves before he even thinks about it. The others follow suit, until Mulan is standing behind them all.
“Stand aside,” Chi Fu demands, descending the last of the steps. “That creature’s not worth protecting.”
“She’s a hero,” Shang spits.
“She’s a woman,” Chi Fu says dismissively. “She’ll never be worth anything –”
That, they all discover, is the limit of Shang’s patience. Before he even realizes he’s moved, he has two fistfuls of the little weasel’s robe and is snarling directly into his face.
“Listen, you pompous –”
“That,” comes another familiar voice, is enough.”
Shang blinks up at the Emperor, who is walking through the smoke covering the steps unbothered. He approaches where Shang stands.
Shang feels almost desperate, almost frightened of what will happen and what sort of man he’ll become if he doesn’t get it right this time.
But the Emperor isn’t interested in anything Shang has to say. He makes a simple motion with his hand; Shang and the others wordlessly step aside.
Mulan looks terrified. But she quickly steps forward, bowing respectfully.
“I’ve heard a great deal about you, Fa Mulan.” The Emperor is stern. “You stole your father’s armor, ran away from home.”
Chi Fu grins maliciously.
“Impersonated a soldier. Deceived your commanding officer.”
Shang almost shouts that the last part doesn’t matter anymore. But the Emperor isn’t finished.
“Dishonored the Chinese Army, destroyed my palace – and!”
Mulan flinches.
“You have saved us all.”
Mulan stares up at him in shock; the old man smiles kindly, and then – to everyone’s absolute astonishment – bows.
Chi Fu is beside himself, falling flat on his face. Shang suddenly realizes that for once, the arrogant councilor has the right idea. He and the others immediately prostrate themselves on the stones, and it surprises Mulan almost as much as the Emperor’s gesture did.
Behind him, in the crowds gathered below, Shang can hear the rustling sound of thousands of people falling to their knees. He glances up and sees the look on Mulan’s face, and feels a rush of fierce, protective pride.
There’s still more, with the Emperor offering Mulan a seat on his council – and also sacking Chi Fu, a memory that Shang will cherish until his dying day – and Mulan respectfully declining. She’s then presented with the Emperor’s crest and the sword of Shan Yu, and she surprises everyone yet again when she throws her arms around the Emperor’s neck.
“Is she allowed to do that?” Yao asks.
Shang just shrugs. Who cares? he thinks. She broke every rule in the book, and they’re alive because of it.
He’s so proud of her it’s almost unbearable.
Chien Po, Ling and Yao all congratulate her, and then Shang’s facing her alone.
Suddenly, he panics. What is he supposed to say? Beg her forgiveness for acting just like Chi Fu?
“You, uh…” She comes closer, looking up at him hopefully. “You fight good.”
She deflates, but thanks him and moves on toward her horse. He watches her go, acutely aware that he just missed the most crucial shot of his life.
Over the sound of the crowd’s thunderous cheers, watching her ride away, the Emperor sidles up to Shang and clears his throat pointedly.
“The flower that blooms in adversity, is the most rare and beautiful of all.”
Shang stares at him, positive that the man isn’t saying what Shang thinks he’s saying…
“Sir?”
The Emperor turns and gives Shang a look that can’t be called anything but irritated. “You don’t meet a girl like that every dynasty.”
He walks away, and Shang is left standing alone, feeling like the biggest dolt in the Middle Kingdom. Mulan is already out of sight, her faithful horse carrying her swiftly towards home.
Is he just…supposed to follow her?
He has to, he decides. But what excuse does he have? He puzzles over it as he hurries to the barracks, packs his things, orders his horse readied. There’s a knock at the door that pulls him from his frantic thoughts. He opens it, expecting servants.
Instead it’s Chien Po, wearing a very knowing expression and carrying…
Shang feels his breath leave him in a whoosh. Mulan’s helmet.
“I think this should be returned to her,” Chien Po says. He holds out the helmet.
Shang swallows, and is absurdly grateful that the other man doesn’t comment on the way his hands shake when he takes it.
“One favor, Captain.”
Shang looks up in silent question.
Chien Po smiles. “Make sure to invite us to the wedding.”
Shang snorts a laugh before he can stop it. His amusement doesn’t fade, not while he readies his horse, and sets off for the Fa home (after obtaining its location from one of the palace clerks).
When he arrives, though, he falters just a bit. Two women are standing at the garden gate, oblivious to his approach. He hopes it’s the right house.
“Excuse me.”
Both women whirl around in shock. The younger one is clearly Mulan’s mother based on resemblance alone; classic beauty softened and weathered – but not diminished – by age. Fa Li, he remembers from the palace records.
“Does Fa Mulan live here?”
Mouths gaping open, they both point toward the garden behind them.
“Thank you,” he says politely.
He recognizes Fa Zhou, standing beneath the blossoming magnolia tree. He bows respectfully, and is startled when Mulan appears over her father’s shoulder. He then makes a total fool of himself with the helmet, and nearly sighs in relief when Mulan rescues him.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She asks sweetly.
“Would you like to stay forever?” the grandmother shouts. He laughs a little, mostly at the disbelieving expression on Mulan’s face.
“Dinner would be great,” he admits.
She beams at him, and he smiles back until her father clears his throat and jolts him back to the present.
“Oh,” she blushes. “Father, this is…my commanding officer. Captain Li Shang. Captain, my father, Fa Zhou.”
Shang bows again. “I am honored to meet you, sir.”
“Thank you,” the man says. “And thank you, for delivering my daughter safely home again.”
“Oh,” Shang says, surprised. “To be honest, sir, she’s the one who delivered us safely from the Hun army.”
“Really?” Fa Zhou peers down at his daughter in interest. “It would seem you have quite the tale to tell over dinner, my child.”
“I suppose I do,” Mulan admits, looking less than thrilled at the idea.
Shang just grins at her, unabashed in his enjoyment of her squirming. But then her father clears his throat again, and it makes them both jump a little.
“While dinner is being prepared,” Fa Zhou says mildly, “perhaps you might show our guest around the garden.”
“Yes, Father,” Mulan says meekly. Shang thinks he sees her blush a little, along with an amused smirk from her father. He fights down his own blush, and dutifully – and at a respectful distance – follows Mulan further into the lush garden. It’s not until they’re out of sight of her family, walking along the edge of the pond, that she sighs.
“Sorry about them.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” he says, and means it.
She smiles, and leads him over a beautiful stone bridge. There’s another magnolia tree on the other side, with another bench under it. She sits down, and he copies her, suddenly uneasy.
“Mulan, I…” he hesitates, unsure how to proceed.
“Is everything alright?” She asks, worried.
“Yes,” he assures her. “I just…I owe you an apology.”
She blinks, surprised. “What for?”
“For leaving you like that, in the mountains. It was irresponsible as your commanding officer, and wrong. I’m sorry.”
He feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, just for saying the words. But Mulan frowns at him.
“But, I – Shang…what else were you supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But…anything else would have been better. I let Chi Fu’s blustering get to me.”
She shakes her head. “Shang, I…I never held that against you.”
“You didn’t?” He asks, surprised. “But you looked…disappointed.”
“I was, but in myself.” Mulan shrugs. “I thought I would have to return home, dishonored further by a dismissal and my father would never be able to show his face again.”
Shang’s surprise must show on his face, because she huffs a little, looking out over the garden instead of at him, choosing her words carefully.
“I knew the consequences, if I got caught. And while I know it was technically wrong, I can’t apologize for it because I don’t regret it. It was either lie, or watch my father go to his certain death.” Mulan paused. “But I still understand that I lied to you, and that it must have hurt and offended you.”
He sits there, once again bowled over by this woman who is so sure of herself that she was willing to tell an entire nation they were wrong instead.
“Thank you,” he finally says.
She nods, still looking straight ahead.
“How’s your head?” She asks him after a moment.
“Oh – it’s fine, thank you.” He smiles ruefully. “Better than Chi Fu’s, anyway. He hit the ground pretty hard when the Emperor offered his job to a woman.”
Mulan laughs. “He did. Poor guy. His whole world got turned upside down in the span of five minutes.”
Shang laughs along with her, but it slowly fades away as he realizes he’s staring at her.
“What?” She finally asks.
“Sorry,” he says. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, it’s just that…I can’t believe any of us thought you were a man.”
It’s probably the clumsiest way possible to tell her that’s she pretty, but thankfully she understands what he’s trying to say, and blushes.
“Thank you,” she says, laughing a little. “I think. Although it was easier than I expected.”
“It was?” Shang can’t begin to imagine.
“As long as I didn’t act feminine, nobody seemed to suspect anything.” She shrugs. “And I’ve never been the most ladylike person anyway, so that wasn’t hard.”
He has to privately disagree; now that the mask is off, all he can see is an elegant grace that is palpable in every move she makes. There’s nothing masculine about her.
He doesn’t get a chance for another clumsy compliment, though, because right then her mother appears.
“Dinner is ready,” she says, smiling kindly at them both. Shang walks slowly behind them, allowing the two to enjoy each other’s company after so long apart. Her mother says something under her breath that makes Mulan recoil, blushing and shaking her head.
“Captain Li,” Fa Li says. “You must tell me how Mulan’s training went.”
That, he can gladly do, despite Mulan’s frantic shaking of her head, behind her mother’s back. He lengthens his stride to catch up to them, and starts in on the morning he came out of his tent to find that she’d reached the arrow.
“The whole camp was cheering for her,” he says fondly. “It wasn’t so much a test of physical strength, but of the ability to solve a problem. She was the first one to figure it out.”
Mulan huffs, blushing. “The weights were obviously meant to counterbalance your weight on the pole,” she says.
“Obviously,” he agrees.
Her mother smiles, amused and proud in equal measure. “She has always been the best in our family at puzzles. At times, when she was a child, she preferred them to dolls.”
“Mother,” Mulan complains, but she’s smiling, too. They reach a set of stone steps, dug into the earth, that will take them down towards the house. Shang waits for the two ladies to precede him, but then he catches just the briefest moment of hesitation from Mulan, where she seems to be considering the best way to shift her weight –
His manners – and common sense – catch up with him at last. “Mulan, here.” He moves to offer her his arm. “I’m sorry, I forgot about your injury.”
“Injury?” Fa Li exclaims.
Mulan winces; Shang gives her an apologetic look.
“It’s barely a scratch, Mama,” she soothes. “I rode all the way home and barely felt it. You don’t need to worry.”
Fa Li purses her lips. “We’ll let the village healer decide that,” she announces. “For now, take the captain’s arm. It wouldn’t do for you to survive a war and collapse in our garden.”
Mulan obeys, and Shang helps her take the steps carefully but not too slowly. Fa Li goes ahead with frequent, anxious glances back at her daughter. Mulan, seeming to know what’s expected of her and not wanting her mother to worry too much, keeps a firm hold on Shang’s arm as they approach the house.
“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she mutters. “Father and Mother are one thing. Grandma is…well, you heard her earlier.”
“I’m not frightened off that easily,” he says, before he realizes what that sounds like.
She blinks up at him, and her cautious, hopeful smile makes him feel like he did watching the entire plaza bow to her – fiercely, determinedly proud.
Dinner is, as he expected, rather boisterous despite their small party. Grandma – as he is promptly ordered to call her – wants to know all the “juicy details” of Mulan’s time spent in a camp of men. While Shang is sure that she wants to know how disgusting all the men were, he can’t help but remember what Yao told him about Mulan getting caught in the lake. He carefully keeps his face neutral, but Mulan’s flaming blush tells him their minds are in similar places.
“It was nothing terrible,” she insists. “Captain Li kept a very clean camp.”
The conversation lasts much longer than the food, but at one point he glances up and sees Mulan’s eyes drooping.
“You both must be weary from travel,” Fa Zhou says finally. “We should all seek our rest.”
He shows Shang to the guest room, but lingers in the doorway. Shang waits, somehow knowing what’s coming.
“How close was she to danger?” The older man asks quietly.
Shang wishes, more than anything, that he could lie. But the look in Fa Zhou’s eyes reminds him painfully of his own father. And the false assurances won’t come. He tries for vague.
“Closer than you probably care to know.”
Fa Zhou isn’t satisfied with that, but he simply waits patiently.
So, Shang tells him. All of it.
The man shows no reaction – not when Shang tells him that Mulan’s injury came from Shan Yu himself, not when Shang tells him that Mulan scouted ahead for guards in the palace alone, not even when Shang tells him of the way Shan Yu chased her through the palace.
But then, Shang tells him of the other things. Of how the Emperor honored her, in sight of the entire city, of how Shang’s own men came to look to Mulan for inspiration on the harder days, of how Shang himself had learned a valuable lesson of leadership, and of what it means to be worthy of those who follow.
Fa Zhou exhales heavily when Shang is finally done; he looks down at his hands, folded atop his cane. “Thank you,” he says. “Not knowing was the hardest part, I think.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course, her mother and I would have preferred if she had not been in danger at all,” he admits. The way he says it lets Shang know that Fa Zhou doesn’t blame anyone, he’s merely wishing things had been different.
“I would have preferred that too, sir.” Shang admits, “But I don’t think we could have done it without her.”
“Probably not,” Fa Zhou says mildly. Then he peers critically at him. “And…you were not offended?”
Shang, once again, can’t find it in him to be anything but honest.
“I was angry,” he admits. “But not because she lied.”
“Oh?”
Shang had the ride from the Imperial City to come to terms with his own shortcomings in this, so the hardest part is meeting Fa Zhou’s gaze when he says the words.
“My father taught me that it is an honorable thing to defend the helpless. And for most of my life, that meant women and children.”
Fa Zhou hums. “Understandable. Many times they are the ones in most need of protection.”
“Yes,” Shang agrees. “And then I was facing the knowledge that I put a woman on the front line of battle, that she got injured on my watch, that I sparred with her in training the same way I sparred with the men…” he thinks back to the countless times he’d landed a hit on Mulan’s face or ribs, and feels sick.
Fa Zhou puts a hand, heavy and grounding, on Shang’s shoulder. “I imagine I would have felt the same way,” the man says. “But my daughter is strong. And the training you put her through, no matter how harsh, undoubtedly saved her life. You have not dishonored yourself, my son.”
Shang takes a big, shaky breath; he didn’t realize he was waiting for those exact words until he heard them.
“Thank you.” His voice is rough, but Fa Zhou only nods in understanding.
“If anything, you have honored your father’s memory by teaching his lesson to others. My daughter is not helpless, and now she can protect those who are.”
He hadn’t thought of it like that. Shang nods, again struck by a bone-deep certainty that his father would have liked Mulan very much.
“She saved China.” As incredible as the words are, he still feels like they don’t do justice to what Mulan has really accomplished.
Fa Zhou smiles, the worry all gone from his brow. “My daughter has always had a very unconventional way of seeing the world. I am glad, most of all, to see her praised for it rather than ridiculed.”
Shang bows again as the older man leaves him; the room is spacious and comfortable, and he readies for bed quickly. He lies there, thinking about the day, about Mulan’s refusal to apologize for what she did, and mostly about his father.
Shang’s mother died when he was a small boy; his childhood was mostly managed by servants and sometimes a nanny. But his father was not distant, always making time for him when he could. Whenever his father would return from a long campaign, Shang would sleep on the floor of his room. He would lie awake most of that first night, just listening to his father breathing and savoring the knowledge that he was home.
He wonders if Mulan’s parents will do something similar tonight. Just sit there and watch their daughter rest safely under a roof and four walls.
Smiling at the thought, he lets sleep claim him.