“Why not?”
“Because it’s suicide!” Daocheng exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “Your father will kill you.”
“No, he won’t. He can’t touch me there. Even if he finds me, he can’t reveal who I am – they’d execute me, and he’d lose face. When have you ever known my father to willingly lose face in front of everyone?” Mulan paused for a moment and sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “Besides, I’d rather die at the hands of a commander than marry Luwei and have his babies.”
“This is crazy, even for you.” Daocheng kept his voice level, but she could see it took tremendous effort for him not to yell at her. Instead, he gripped the top of her arms with strong fingers, forcing her to look at him. “Mulan, you’ve got a history of disobeying your father, but this time you need to listen to him. I don’t like the idea of you marrying that bastard any more than you do, but it’s a better alternative than being six foot in the ground. Which is where you’re going to end up if you do this.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment, but for Mulan it seemed like an eternity. Thoughts whirled in her head like a thundering storm whilst emotions repeatedly jabbed themselves in her gut. Eventually, she sagged in his grip and lowered her gaze. “Fine. I won’t do it.”
“Promise me. Swear on our friendship that you won’t go through with it.”
Squeezing her eyes tight to stop the burning tears from falling, Mulan nodded. “I swear.”
Releasing her arms, Daocheng sighed and slumped back against the magnolia tree, his face coated with relief. “Good.”
Mulan pulled herself to her feet. “I need to go. There’s a few things I need to do before it gets dark.”
Daocheng looked up, his eyes filled with concern. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she walked away, her heart sank, past her stomach and into the ground. Hopefully in time, he would learn to forgive her for the first lie between them.
Five
“That’s the last of the horses sent, Chief.”
Mulan’s father nodded at the young servant from his position in the corner of the room. “Make sure everyone is ready to take the sheep to Chief Wang’s in the morning. I don’t want any delays.”
“Of course, sir.” Offering a short bow of the neck, he hurried off to complete his task.
Her dowry.
Inhaling deeply, Mulan focused her attention on the dress in her lip. Shadows from flickering lights of candles and braziers danced over the red silk, making it hard to know where the needle needed to be threaded. I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if I’ll be wearing it.
On the floor at her feet, Feng Qing snorted. “I don’t understand why Mulan has a larger dowry than I do. After all, I’m the eldest.” Since her own dress had been finished for several days now, and with Mulan’s wedding in the morning, she’d begrudgingly offered to help her sew.
“Daughter,” Chou Bosi sighed without bothering to look up from her own position on the floor. A needle hung from one corner of her mouth as she hemmed the bottom of her husband’s robes. “Mulan’s marriage to Wang Luwei requires such a dowry. It cannot be helped.”
“But a thousand sheep and a hundred horses! Mother, that’s twice as much as mine.”
“You’re only marrying a minor official,” Nanyang teased from beside her. Her rounded face lit up with a mischievous grin. “You’re not worth as much as Mulan.”
Feng Qing responded to her sister’s comments with a slap around the younger girl’s head. “I’m still the eldest.”
Picking up the golden thread she’d dropped, Nanyang scowled. “No, you’re the meanest.”
“Girls, stop,” Chou Bosi exclaimed, fixing them all with a look from the corner of her eyes. With delft fingers, she threaded the needle through Chief Zhou’s robes as he stood motionless, a bored expression plastered on his face. Beside him, Mohuai played with the wooden toys their father had carved himself. “We don’t have time for squabbling. Your sister’s wedding dress and your father’s robes won’t sew themselves. Get on with it.”
Silence descended upon the room; only the crackling of the fires burning in the braziers could be heard by all. Not that Mulan felt like talking. She was afraid that if she did, they’d hear the pounding of her pulse in her ears, or the adrenaline surging through her veins. No, it was best to shut up and not ruin the last night she’d get to spend with her family.
It won’t be long, she told herself, jabbing the red silk with the needle.
“I wonder what it’s like to be married,” Nanyang said, her eyes staring off into the distance in a dreamlike manner.
“You get to kiss a lot,” Feng Qing smiled.
“Will Mulan get to kiss Luwei a lot? He’s cute.”
“There’s more to marriage than just kissing,” Chou Bosi admonished, climbing to her feet and placing a hand to her back with a grimace.
Chief Zhou slapped her behind and grinned. “Of course, there is. That’s how we ended up with four children.” Laughter erupted and swirled on the air before Mulan’s mother ran a gentle hand down the side of her husband’s face. The flames licked shadows over his face; for a moment, Mulan saw him through her childhood eyes – strong, powerful, and full of love. Gently, her father leaned down for a kiss.
Nanyang scrunched her face at the sight of her parents kissing. “Ewww.”
Mulan couldn’t help it; soft chuckles escaped her mouth and she placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You’ll feel differently when you marry someone you love.”
“Do you love Luwei?”
The question left Mulan’s lungs with no oxygen. She glanced around the room, watching all eyes on her. Finally, she gazed down at Nanyang on the floor by her feet and shook her head. “No. I don’t love him.”
“Love grows with time, like magnolias blossoms on the tree,” Chief Zhou said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “They bloom slowly with the seasons, eventually creating something beautiful. That’s what family is.”
Emotions swirled through Mulan’s chest at his words. Her love for her family bloomed every day, despite the endless fighting; they were blossoms that could never fade.
Nothing bloomed for Wang Luwei except a burning hatred. He would never be a part of her family.
Muscles aching, Mulan stood up from her seat and pulled a face as she stretched. How long had they been at this? It seemed like all night, although it was most likely two hours or so.
“You know,” Chou Bosi remarked as she threaded her needle once more. “I’ve been impressed with how well you’ve taken to this.”
Turning towards her mother, a frown etched around Mulan’s brow. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how to describe it,” she said, her forehead creasing with lines. She tilted her head, obviously trying to find the right words. “You’ve been -”
“Obedient,” Chief Zhou finished.
“Yes! That’s what I meant,” she laughed, tugging at his sleeve, ready to pierce the material once more. The cloth was a brilliant shade of blue, almost as dark as the night sky outside. The gold thread embroidered on his sleeves was the exact shade adorning Mulan’s wedding dress. “It’s such an unusual word to describe our daughter.”
Just then, Mohuai slammed one of his toys to the ground and clumsily got to his chubby legs. Tears leaked from the side of his face as he waddled towards Mulan, his arms held out, revealing an expanse of soft pale flesh. An instant smile stretched on Mulan’s face as she dropped to the floor and gathered him in his arms.
Mohuai buried his face into her shoulder, his body warm against hers. A knot of emotion twisted itself in the pit of her stomach. Forcing herself not to cry, she wrapped her arms tight around his tiny body, inhaling the sweet scent of apples that he seemed to emit, even after a bout of mud pie making.
In only a few hours, she’d be leaving him behind. Leaving all of them. Even her bratty older sister with her arrogant attitude and her mother’s sharp words and even sharper hand. She kne
w deep down that leaving offered the only hope of life, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt.
She hadn’t even left, and her heart felt as if it’d been stabbed with a thousand blades.
Rocking her baby brother on the floor and the rest of her family fading into the background, Mulan wondered if he knew something was going on. Does he know he’s losing me?
Staying meant death. Marriage to Luwei would kill her; her blood ran cold as ice at the thought of him touching her on their wedding night. And it wasn’t as if he would respect her wish to wait. One of two things would happen – she’d kill him, or herself.
Neither held any appeal – maybe the former, just a little – but dying over a man seemed so damn cliché.
Joining the army meant freedom nowhere to be found in Shenzhou. Freedom from Luwei, from her father, from the traditions that loomed like deadly shadows. Killing a few Rouran seemed like a good trade.
But first, she had to get there.
Escaping from the confines of her home were not without issues. With the wedding only hours away, activity filled every corner of the house. In the kitchens in the north of the property, the cooks prepared the wedding feast; in the eastern quarters, servants sewed banners and other decorations; and the southern rooms were being prepared for honoured guests.
Getting out of her bedroom and past her family’s rooms without being seen would prove the most problematic. Both her sisters were light sleepers.
But if she could do that, then she was half-way to freedom.
“Arrgh.”
Her father’s cries and the subsequent thud of a body hitting the ground whipped Mulan’s head up.
“Husband!” Chou Bosi cried, dropping to his side instantly. Chief Zhou lay slumped on the floor, his legs sprawled in awkward angles, one arm pinned under the weight of his body. Setting her baby brother to one side, Mulan rushed forward. His lungs seemed to struggle to take in air and the colour in his face drained to white.
“Father!” Behind her, Nanyang and Feng Qing skidded to a stop.
Mulan’s pulse rocketed in her throat so hard she could almost taste it in the back of her throat as her father groaned. Slowly, they helped him to a sitting position. “Father, are you hurt?”
It took a moment for Chief Zhou to regain his ability to speak and he winced with the effort. “I think I’ve had enough sewing for the night.”
“I think so, too,” Mulan’s mother replied, the bite of command to her voice. “Let’s get you to bed. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
“Blasted women. Always fussing,” he muttered, the words coming out with a croak.
Carefully, Mulan and her mother helped him to stand whilst Feng Qing hovered in the background, her face lined with concern.
Getting Mulan’s father to his rooms and into bed took them a while. Several times they had to stop to allow him to catch his breath, or to hold him upright when his legs refused to work. Eventually, Chou Bosi ushered Nanyang and Feng Qing out, reminding them there were still things to be done before bed.
Against the black silk pillows, Chief Zhou’s face appeared ashen and drawn. Deep in her chest, Mulan ached with frustration. She was helpless against the cruelty of her father’s health. Taking a deep breath, she tucked the sheet around his body and made to leave.
Before she could move from the bed, lukewarm fingers curled around her wrist. “Stay with me a moment.”
Slowly, Mulan perched on the edge of her bed, taking her father’s hand in hers. “Of course, Father.”
“When you were born, I had this overwhelming belief that you were to be my most troublesome child,” he said, the words barely audible over his wheezing intake of breath. “Over the years, you have proven me right. You’d play with the boys instead of girls, you’d creep out of your room at night to talk to the horses. One time I found you dancing on the walls in the pouring rain.”
“You shouted at me until your voice ran out,” Mulan laughed, remembering how his face had transformed into a brilliant shade of red. “Mother almost fainted.”
“Such a naughty, disobedient child. The opposite of your older sister in every way. Nanyang seems to have some of your traits, but hopefully not as many. I’m getting too old for it.” A fit of coughing wracked his lungs, and Mulan’s heart thumped in her chest, knowing she couldn’t do anything to help. A few minutes later, he rose his head, offering a weak smile. “But even as mischievous as you were, as much as you cause me to lose face, I wouldn’t change anything about you.”
Tears burned the back of Mulan’s eyes, the warmth of his words flooding every inch of her body. A smile stretched over her face. “Really?”
“I do. That’s why I want to give you this.” With trembling movements, Chief Zhou withdrew his hand from hers and pulled off a ring from his left hand. Carefully, he placed it in hers. Thick and heavy, the silver band featured an engraving of a horse, its eyes embedded with white jade. Mulan recognised it instantly as her grandfather’s. “I had intended to give this to Mohuai when he was older and you the jade ring I gave to Yi Ligui, but you deserve it. Wear it to your wedding and make us proud of you.”
Guilt snatched Mulan’s breath away as she stared at the ring within her palm. There’d never been a time when she’d seen her father take it off his finger. Now he was passing it onto her, a sign of his love for her.
In a few hours, she would be gone.
Along with his pride and love.
A sad smile danced over her lips and she squeezed her fingers tight over it. Raising her head, she watched as emotions shone within her father’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
Chief Zhou slumped against the pillows, his face stained with fatigue. “I love you, too, Daughter.”
HEAVY SILENCE FELL around her, except for the sound of Mulan’s breathing in the darkness. Finally, the house remained still, her mother and siblings retiring to their rooms a few hours ago.
Remorse ate at her soul at how much time and effort her family had put into the preparations for a wedding that wouldn’t take place. How much would they hate her when they discovered her bed empty, the red silk dress her mother had cut and her sisters’ sewn for her left unworn?
Visions of her ancestors berating her from their spiritual home filled her mind. Never in all the stories her grandparents had shared were there girls shaming tradition and running off to escape an unwanted marriage. As she pulled on the familiar comfortable leather boots, tucking the bottoms of the loose-fitting trousers within them, she realised the painful truth.
No one would share her story. No one would mention her name again. Those who brought shame to the family honour were cast out, exiled to a life of shadows.
Mulan reached for her cloak, the dark material long enough to cover her entire body. A tunic the colour of earth grazed the tops of her knees, while the trousers she wore, a few shades lighter, scratched her skin. Uncomfortable to say the least, they would have to do for now.
With deliberate movements as not to make any noise, Mulan hurried to the mirror in the corner of her room. A sliver of moonlight spilled through the open window, despite the iron bars blocking some of it out. The memory of her father ordering them flooded back; the consequence of sneaking out of her room one too many times.
The gleam of the moon gave Mulan just enough light to see her reflection in the mirror. With swift fingers, she swept her long black hair up, binding it at the top of her head with two pieces of leather to keep it in place. With no makeup adorning her face and the distinctive male hairdo, she almost didn’t recognise her reflection. This is what I want, though.
Pulling her gaze away from the mirror, Mulan reached for the jian on her bed, the leather sheath warm in her fingers. She turned to go but stopped. Slowly, she reached inside her pocket, revealing two rings.
I don’t deserve either.
The silver ring gleamed in the moonlight. Biting her lip, and with a heavy heart, she placed it on her bed, pocketing the jade b
and once more. It should belong to Mohuai, but Yi Ligui had given her the jade one back along with the vial of salt. It would serve as her connection to her family whilst so far apart.
Heart thumping, she carefully headed towards the door and pulled the heavy wood open to a crack. She glanced over her shoulder, mentally saying her farewells to the place she’d called home all her life.
No turning back now.
Sucking in a deep breath, Mulan opened the door further, just enough to allow her to slip through. Straining to hear even the slightest sound but finding nothing, she carefully closed it behind her.
Shadows painted the property black save for the edges of buildings drenched in moonlight. The crescent shaped ball hung high in the night sky, the darkness pinpricked with stars.
Frustrated at knowing she’d be caught if she left by the front entrance – the two guards traditionally stationed at the bride’s gate wouldn’t hesitate to march her back to her rooms – Mulan turned her attention to what she needed to do to escape.
Gripping the middle of the jian’s sheath tight, Mulan slowly moved forward, making certain to stay in the shadows and ducking beneath windows. The courtyard loomed ahead, faint sounds of servants chatting floating on the still air as lights from braziers spilled on the far side. Damn, they were still up. Behind the end building was a crumbled gap of wall that she’d planned to slip through. With the servants still up, the likelihood of getting caught was high.
Plan Two it is then.
Keeping her movements light, Mulan inched her way backwards, listening for any new sounds. The second option open to her lay to the right of the kitchens but she hadn’t used it for a while. Hopefully, she’d still fit.
Holding her breath, she tiptoed around Feng Qing’s rooms. Large windows remained open, forcing Mulan to squat low to pass. Inside, silence reigned. For once, thank the gods, her sister stayed asleep.
Honour, She Obeys Page 6
