Except—Shang was a spirit.
Mulan’s hand jumped to her mouth. No.
There was no denying it. Shang glowed a soft, pale blue, and his body flickered like a watery reflection. She could see the window’s geometric latticework through his skin.
“Shang,” she tried to call; her voice came out strangled and hoarse. The room was small—barely a dozen strides wide and long. She moved toward him, but he didn’t budge.
“Shang?”
What was he staring at?
All she saw outside the window was the dreary gray sky. There wasn’t a cloud or a bird in sight.
He must see something else.
Worry etched itself in her brow. Shang’s eyes were glassy, and not even a muscle in his jaw twitched when she called his name. She wanted to shake his shoulders, but she couldn’t even touch him. She tried anyway, resting her hand above his arm. It was like touching warm water.
Am I too late?
“Shang, I’m here. It’s Ping.”
He must have felt something, because finally, Shang turned.
When he saw her, his brow lifted. It was a small gesture, but Mulan’s heart fluttered with relief. He was happy to see her! Then Shang blinked, and his lips twisted into a grimace. He wrung his hands. “Not you, too, Ping.”
Mulan’s eyes widened, suddenly understanding what Shang must think. “No,” she said. “I’m not—I’m alive.”
Shang shook his head. “Not if you’re here.”
“Shang, I’m here to take you home.”
“Ping. Look around you. We’re in the Underworld.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But I’m not dead. Your father’s spirit came to me. He brought me your family guardian, ShiShi. He’s right downstairs, if you’ll just come with me—”
“Ping,” Shang said, raising his voice harshly. “This is the last chance I get to see my family. I’d like to be alone.”
“I spoke to your father,” she repeated. “He said you wouldn’t believe me.”
“You should have listened.” Shang set his gaze back toward the window. “Go. I don’t have long here, and I want to remember as much as I can.”
“So you know?” she said. “King Yama told you that you’re leaving Diyu?”
“I know my body is dying,” Shang said flatly. “I know that I have been chosen to return to Earth. It is an honor. I only hope in my next life I can continue protecting China.”
“You must protect China in this life,” Mulan said. “I’m really here, Shang.”
“No, Ping.” His brows knit, and he wore a pained expression. “If you’re here, that means you’re dying, too. And I’m sorry to hear it. You should be in your own tower.”
Mulan gritted her teeth. She’d forgotten how stubborn Shang could be—almost more stubborn than she was. Almost, but not quite. She wasn’t giving up on him.
Help him remember. Help him believe.
“You promised I had your trust, right?” she said softly.
That got Shang’s attention. He looked at her uncertainly.
“Your father wants you to live, Shang. I know you think it’s dishonorable to try to fight your fate, but you must. We still need you. Your soldiers need you.” She paused. “Remember how hopeless we all were in the beginning?”
Shang let out a laugh. It was brusque, but Mulan went on, encouraged. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“How could I forget? You were the worst soldier I’d ever seen.”
It was Mulan’s turn to laugh.
Sometimes she wished she could forget the first time she’d met Shang. Mushu had given her a few questionable lessons on how to behave like a man, so she’d lumbered into the training barracks and somehow gotten into a fight with every other recruit. Shang had arrived to break up the scuffle, and there she was curled up on the ground like a turtle, covering her head so the other soldiers wouldn’t batter it. The sight of him had taken her breath away—not because he was tall and imposing and handsome, but because she’d been out of shape and jumped too quickly to her feet.
“I was so afraid of you I didn’t even remember my own name,” Mulan confessed. It was mostly the truth. Honestly, she hadn’t even come up with a male name yet. But she had been terrified of him. Terrified. And curious.
After all, the expression Shang had worn when they first met—she couldn’t tell whether he’d been angry or perplexed. Or both.
What an idiot he must have thought she was.
She was better at reading his expressions now. The crook in his neck—he was listening. The slight bend in his arm when he spoke to her—he was cautious. The parting of his lips now as he waited for her to speak—he was hopeful. Doubt still lingered in his eyes, but he wanted to believe her.
“Are you still afraid of me?” asked Shang. “Especially now that I’m like—this?” He held up his pale blue arms.
“No,” said Mulan. “Now I’m just afraid I’ll lose my friend. And Yao and Ling and Chien-Po—we’re worried that we’ll lose our captain. Who else would work us so hard? You have to fight, Shang. It’s what you taught us to do.”
The hardness in his eyes softened. “Is it really you, Ping?”
“I know it’s hard to believe. But it is.”
“And my father…my father truly sent you here—to bring me back.”
“He guessed you’d be skeptical. He knows you well.” Mulan paused. “He asked me to tell you a story from when you were a child in case you didn’t believe me.”
“What story?”
“He said when you were six, you sneaked into his trunk and tried to follow him to battle. He caught you, and he promised that one day, you would fight together.” Mulan hesitated. “He said he’s sorry that never got to happen.”
The flinch in Shang’s brow was brief, but Mulan caught it. His shoulders tensed and drew up. “Is he here…in Diyu? Can I speak to him?”
“I don’t know where he is. He said he was to go to Heaven.”
Shang’s shoulders dropped. He looked relieved, yet sad. “I see.”
“He wants you to live, Shang,” Mulan went on. “Your family guardian brought me here to take you home. He’s downstairs, waiting for us.”
Shang lowered his gaze to study her. His eyes wavered as they searched her face—she could tell he wanted to believe her. “You can’t be real.”
“I am,” she said. “Shang, you have to believe me. You have to live.”
“Why?”
Why, she repeated to herself. Her mind scrambled for an answer. “My father used to tell me about the ancient heroes who protected China against demons. How the gods gave them magical stones or lanterns or swords to help them on their quests. But even then, the heroes weren’t invincible. They knew fear and loss, yet they fought anyway, because they knew it was the right thing to do. Because in their hearts, they were brave and true.”
She bit her lip, reflecting on her father’s stories. The heroes had always inspired her, even if none of them had been girls.
That’s not the point now, she reminded herself. I’ve got to make Shang want to live.
“We’re just men, Shang. We have no magic, but we have our courage and we have our strength. China needs us. You might have guessed that I was a disappointment to my parents. I was clumsy, and stubborn—and unhappy with myself. I didn’t know what I lived for. I didn’t know who I was. Sometimes, I still don’t.” She paused, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “But it isn’t always about me. It’s about China. My family. My friends.
“I chose to come to Diyu and take you home. You need to make that choice now, too. If you think your path ends here, I’ll go. But if you want to keep going, come with me.”
She waited for Shang to absorb her words.
“That sounds more like the real Ping,” he said finally, peeling himself from the window. He sounded calm, the way he always had been when he commanded his troops, but his next words carried a note of urgency. “So, how do we get out of here?”
Mulan
smiled. That was the Shang she knew.
“Follow me,” she said, moving for the door. But as soon as Shang stepped out of the room, the walls let out a terrible shudder, and the ground below shook.
“The tower’s crumbling!” Shang reached to grab Mulan’s arm, but his touch was no more than a shadow. His face twisted with a mix of sadness and frustration, but then he looked at her, jaw set determinedly. “Let’s go.”
Mulan bolted down the stairs, taking two, three steps at a time. She could hear the stones collapsing, as if someone had taken a giant hammer to the roof. The sound thundered around her.
They were maybe twenty steps from the bottom when Mulan spied ShiShi pacing at the entrance. They were almost there.
Then the stairs flattened beneath their feet, and down they slid—just seconds ahead of an avalanche of crumbling stones. They were going to crash into the wall!
They kicked at the ground, trying to slow their fall, but it was in vain.
Seeing they were in danger, ShiShi smashed through the entrance and charged in front of Mulan and Shang, breaking their fall and bearing the falling stones on his back. But before he could snatch Mulan in his teeth and take her outside, the tower floor disappeared.
Into the void the three of them plunged.
And ShiShi’s roar echoed as they fell, deeper and deeper into Diyu.
Mulan held in her scream. She didn’t know how to scream like a man, although she’d mastered talking like one, walking like one, and eating like one. She’d heard Ling and Mushu shriek plenty of times, but never Shang. Shang was always brave; if he felt fear, he used it to find a way to get him and his soldiers out of danger.
So as they fell together down what seemed a never-ending tunnel of darkness and despair, Mulan refused to let this be the moment that revealed her secret, refused to let this be the moment that she gave in to her fear that they all wouldn’t make it back home.
She locked her scream in her gut, clutching her sides and biting her lips.
ShiShi was still roaring. His jade pendant whirled in a flash of green, and he swiped his paws at the air as if wrestling an invisible foe.
Mulan kicked, trying to orient her body so she could see what was beneath her. But she was moving too fast, and the effort only made her dizzy. As they fell deeper into Diyu, she caught a glimpse of different chambers—of roofed houses and burning trees, of craggy wastelands and tempestuous rainstorms. There were whiffs of smoke, the flash of iron chains, and the bloodcurdling screams of ghosts being tortured.
ShiShi landed first, dirt spraying up around him. Shang was next—a silent sprawl, but he groaned, so she knew he was still alive. Well, half-alive.
Mulan braced herself, tucking her head and bending her knees. Her landing was soft—almost cushioned. And furry…
“Get off me!” ShiShi grunted. “Off, off. Now!”
Mulan rolled to the side and got off ShiShi’s back. The lion was half-covered in dirt, and his orange eyes glowed in whatever dark chamber they’d fallen into. It was certainly a very small chamber; there was barely enough room to fit ShiShi and her.
“Shang?” she shouted, looking frantically about them. She pressed her palm against the stony wall encircling the chamber. No, not a chamber—she could see the sky above them, blue and crisp. She and ShiShi were stuck in a well!
“Ping?” Shang called from above.
“I’m here,” she shouted back. “ShiShi is, too!”
Shang peered at them from the top of the well. “Stay there. I’ll find a way to get you out.”
“We’re not staying anywhere,” ShiShi retorted. He flicked his tail against the circular wall, then clawed at the stones as he tried to crawl up. It was no use; he couldn’t climb them. He tumbled down, his enormous body filling the space of the well bottom.
The guardian tried again and again, to no avail. He kicked his back legs, hitting a wooden bucket, which loudly ricocheted off the wall and hit his tail. He growled, clearly exasperated. “Well, this is unpleasant.”
“At least it’s empty,” said Mulan, tapping the dirt with her shoe. “It could be worse.”
ShiShi ground his teeth. “I’m not sure that’s much consolation.”
Mulan examined the stone walls that enclosed them. The rock was slippery, the grout thin. There was no way she would be able to scale it, even with her nimble fingers. “Shang?” she called up toward the opening. “Do you see anything out there?”
Silence. It seemed Shang had gone to find something to help them.
ShiShi harrumphed. Mulan couldn’t help but share his discontent. Mere moments after finding Shang, they’d been separated.
She leaned against the wall, trying to think of another way out.
“Well, little soldier,” ShiShi said, “do you have anything up your sleeve this time?”
“I’m working on it,” Mulan said. She wondered what purpose this empty well served. Was it an obstacle specifically placed to slow them down? How much time had passed since they’d left King Yama’s throne?
ShiShi harrumphed again. “What a way for me to introduce myself to Li Shang—by getting stuck in a well.”
Something in his tone broke Mulan out of her reverie. “Is that why you wouldn’t come with me to the tower earlier?” she asked the lion after a moment. She lowered her voice. “Because you were worried you’d disappoint Shang somehow?”
ShiShi lowered his head, trying to hide a grimace, his body shifting uncomfortably. Mulan didn’t expect a reply from Shang’s surly guardian, so it surprised her when he started to speak. “I was General Li’s guardian since he was Shang’s age. He became more than my charge; he became my friend. And when he died, I promised I’d watch over his son. I swore an oath.
“But now? Now that General Li has passed, and his son is in Diyu…” ShiShi heaved a sigh, his whiskers drooping. “I would not be surprised if my tenure as a guardian will also pass.”
“Shang is lucky to have you,” Mulan said, touching the lion’s head. “You’re brave and…confident. You remind me of Mushu sometimes, except you’re a lot bigger.”
ShiShi shook her hand off him. “I’m nothing like your house lizard.”
Mulan bristled at ShiShi’s tone. In spite of Mushu’s shortcomings and tendency to get her into trouble, she did appreciate him. If she never made it out of Diyu, would Mushu be punished—demoted from guardian?
No, because I am going to get us out of here. “ShiShi,” she said, “we’re going to get Shang out of here. You’ll still be a guardian. I promise.”
“It isn’t only that.” ShiShi grimaced again, then let out a sigh. “You aren’t the only one who carries the burden of guilt.”
Ah. Now Mulan understood. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop blaming herself for what had happened to Shang. It had not occurred to her that ShiShi might feel the same way about General Li. She’d mistaken the guardian’s guilt for pride and disappointment.
“Shang would never blame you for what happened to his father,” she said gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Says the soldier who blames himself for Li Shang’s death,” grumbled ShiShi.
“I feel terrible for my part in what happened to Shang, but I’m not here simply out of guilt,” Mulan reminded the lion. “Saving Shang is the right thing to do. I’d do it even if he hadn’t been hurt saving me. I’d want to help.”
ShiShi raised his head. “I suppose if General Li has faith in you, then I do too, Ping.” The lion ground his large, broad teeth, as if he hated how emotional he was being. “Now where is Li Shang? He’s taking his time.”
Mulan looked up, then eyed the walls of the well curiously. There was a rusted pulley on top, but the rope was no longer there.
“What we could really use is some rope,” she said.
“Rope?”
ShiShi shuffled, kicking the old bucket again. This time, Mulan leapt up, peering over at the thin and snakelike object behind him. “Aha!” she cried.
ShiShi c
raned his neck to look behind him. “Ah, I was wondering why my tail felt so coarse. Is it enough?”
The long rope, tied to the broken wooden bucket, rolled toward Mulan. “It just might work.”
She jumped, throwing the bucket as high as she could. It took a few tries, but on the third one, the bucket made it over the well and disappeared. She tugged on the rope, testing its strength. “I’m going to try climbing out.”
“What about me?” ShiShi said.
“Hold on.” Mulan wrapped the rope around ShiShi’s body and tied a tight knot. Then she climbed on top of him and began scaling the well.
“What are you doing?” ShiShi said, his voice bouncing across the walls. “Are you just leaving me behind?”
“Stay there. I’ll pull you up once I’m at the top.”
She landed on a soft, yielding bed of—flowers? Startled, she sat up and gave a quick stretch before leaping to her feet. An overwhelming aroma of peonies and tangerines and lotus blossoms surrounded her.
“Not what I expected,” she murmured to herself, overcome by the beauty of this level. If not for ShiShi still stuck in the well, she would have stopped to take a better look at her surroundings.
“Get me out of here!” the lion roared.
“Shang!” Mulan called, spotting the captain nearby still searching for a way to get them out. He’d managed to find a fallen tree and was lugging it toward them when he saw her.
“Ping, how did you—”
“ShiShi’s still stuck inside,” she interrupted. “We need your help.”
Shang dropped the tree and hurried toward her. Together, they pulled on the rope, heaving ShiShi out of the well.
“At last,” ShiShi said, jumping onto the grass. With his claw, he cut the ropes off his body and shook his mane free of dirt. He then stood tall, presenting himself regally to Shang.
“I am the great guardian of the Li family,” he boomed. “I have nurtured the heroes in your family for over a dozen generations, and now—”
“Do you know where we are?” Shang interrupted.
Mulan hid a chuckle. That was Shang—getting right to business.
Reflection: A Twisted Tale Page 8
