“Hurry up with breakfast,” she heard Shang call to the men. He’d emerged from the tent, fully dressed as if nothing had ever happened to him. How strong he looked as he strode across the camp, carrying a box of supplies they’d take with them to the Imperial City.
“We leave in five minutes. The Emperor is waiting.”
Mulan tightened the cord strapping her saddle to Khan’s back. At her feet, a familiar shadow approached, growing smaller and smaller as he drew near.
“You sneaky, sneaky girl,” Mushu said, grinning. “Are you going to tell me what miracle you worked on the captain last night?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know a man about to croak when I see one,” retorted the dragon. “And Captain Li Shang was as good as dead.”
Mulan mustered a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. I fell asleep.”
Her guardian peered at her suspiciously. “You know, in spite of dressing up as a man and all that, you’re not a very good liar.”
“I did!” Mulan protested. She picked Cri-Kee off Mushu’s back. “Maybe he has a lucky cricket.”
Cri-Kee chirped in agreement.
Mushu crossed his arms. “I still think you’re hiding something from me. I don’t like it, Mulan. Not one bit. You know you’re not supposed to lie to your guardian.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”
“Later?”
“Tonight,” she amended. “After we finish marching.”
The dragon nodded. “Deal.”
While they marched, Mulan walking Khan by his reins in the middle of the line, she watched Shang. For someone who’d been at death’s door only a day ago, he led the soldiers admirably. They cheered around him, singing and whistling as they marched. Shang didn’t join in. She could tell his injury still bothered him, for every now and then he limped when he walked. But he wouldn’t accept her or anyone’s help, which didn’t surprise her.
Still, he was being quiet. Unusually quiet, even for him. He hadn’t smiled since breakfast.
“What’s wrong with the captain?” Yao said, nudging Mulan in the rib. “He doesn’t look happy to be alive.”
“He is happy,” Ling contradicted. “Look, he’s not frowning. When he’s not frowning, he’s happy.”
“What do you think, Chien-Po?” Yao asked.
“Hmm.” Chien-Po pressed his hands together. “He looks like he’s contemplating something.”
Chien-Po’s right, Mulan thought, casting her gaze on Shang. Chi Fu was at his side, prattling on and on about all the honors the Emperor was bound to bestow upon him for his excellent record keeping and military counsel, no doubt. Shang didn’t look like he heard a word of it. He didn’t even look like he was pretending to listen.
He looks preoccupied.
Mulan wondered what Shang was thinking about. She had to restrain herself from going up to him and asking. She’d gotten used to being at his side, but now that they were back in the living world, she constantly had to remind herself that he was her superior officer. She couldn’t just go up to him and ask him what was on his mind. Not in front of the other soldiers, anyway.
So it surprised her when, in the middle of the day, after hours of marching, he came to find her.
He tapped her shoulder.
“Can I talk to you?” Shang said.
Seeing that the rest of the soldiers were at Mulan’s side, he cleared his throat and assumed a more authoritative tone. “Ping, walk with me. Chien-Po will lead the troops for now. Don’t slow down.”
Mulan passed Khan’s reins to Ling. She saw Mushu try to follow her, but she gave a tiny shake of her head. Yao and Chien-Po sent curious glances her way, too, but Mulan ignored them and followed Shang.
He didn’t say anything for a long time. The two simply walked, putting space between themselves and the rest of the soldiers.
“What’s on your mind, Captain?” Mulan finally asked.
Shang blinked. He sighed. “Too much. I barely know how to sort it all. The war is over, the Huns are defeated, and…”
“And?” she prodded gently.
“Honestly, I don’t know how I’m alive.” Shang hesitated. “The wound I got from Shan-Yu should have killed me. Yet here I am, walking, not even two days after he attacked me. Even the pain is mostly gone.”
The desire to tell him everything tugged at Mulan. She ignored it. Shang would think she was crazy.
“It’s a miracle, like the soldiers say,” she replied instead.
“Maybe,” Shang allowed. “But part of me wonders—” He restarted the thought. “I had a fever…and slipped in and out of consciousness. My memory of everything is hazy. I mean, I heard and saw things that I don’t even know were real.”
Mulan’s heart lurched. Could it be? She pursed her lips, trying hard not to give anything away. “What do you remember?”
“I…I remember being so sure I was going to die that I asked you to go to my mother, and…and—”
Oh. “And take your ashes to her,” Mulan finished quietly. “Yes, that happened.”
He still didn’t look at her. Instead, he frowned. “Then I had the strangest dream, Mu—” He stopped. “Ping. You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
Had he almost just called her by her true name? Mulan stifled a gasp. She nearly forgot to keep walking—her legs felt suddenly light, along with the rest of her.
“Tell me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m listening.”
“I heard my father’s voice. I couldn’t really understand what he was saying, because…because I was dying, and I was a spirit in the Underworld. I was trapped there, in this tower with stone walls. But I could hear him speaking to me, and when I looked outside the tower walls, I could see my entire family. My entire life again.”
Mulan slowed her steps. Her heart pounded so fiercely it became a struggle not to burst out at Shang with questions, not to tell him she’d been there, that it had all been real. “What happened then?”
“Then you arrived with a lion at your side to save me.”
Her pulse sped up. “A lion?”
“You did. It felt so real. There were demons and ghosts, and chambers of fire and knives and mirrors.”
“Funny,” Mulan whispered. “I had that same dream.”
Shang turned to her, meeting her gaze. In that moment, his expression was the most tender she’d ever seen it. “You did?”
Instead of replying, she reached into her pocket, folding her hand over the magnolia blossom Meng Po had given her. Her memories of Diyu were already fading, but there were certain things she would never forget.
“Yes,” she whispered, holding out the flower for him to see. “I was there.”
“What do you remember?”
“You were a spirit, waiting for your body on Earth to die. Your guardian and I came to rescue you. He had a fur coat the color of honey, and eyes as wide and round as oranges.” She smiled. “He also had the ego of a peacock, but his heart was big. We all fought a woman who could change her shape from a fox to a butterfly, and who brewed tea that could make you forget your own name. And we outsmarted a fire demon. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
Shang’s eyes flickered. “Go on.”
“Then you reunited with your father at the gates,” Mulan said softly. “He told you he’d be watching you from Heaven. Then a great bell chimed—I can still hear its ringing in my ears.” She laughed. “And we woke up back where we started.”
“How did you—”
“It wasn’t a dream,” she replied. “It was real. All of it.”
Comprehension dawned on Shang’s face. “But that means, you’re…you’re—”
She waited, not daring to hope.
“You’re Mulan. Fa Mulan.”
Relief flooded her. She took an unsteady step forward, then parted her lips. “That’s right,” she whispered.
He inhaled, his shoulders settling down. “When I woke up, I thought it’
d been a dream. But when I saw you, all I could remember was that you were Mulan, not Ping. That’s why I couldn’t look at you. I thought I had to be crazy for thinking that.”
“You aren’t.”
“And now it’s coming back. Most of it. The important parts.”
“The important parts?”
His brow creased. “There was something else I wanted to tell you when we were in Diyu, but I never had the chance.”
“What is it?”
“With your permission, I’d like to tell the Emperor that our best soldier—the soldier who saved us and defeated Shan-Yu—is a woman.”
Mulan blinked, not sure she’d heard correctly. “It’s against the rules, Shang. He’ll—”
“He will honor you,” Shang replied, knowing what she was about to say. “You saved China, Mulan. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman. You’re a hero. I know he’ll see it that way. When he does, the rest of China will, too.”
He paused. “Who knows? Soon, China may have its first female commander—perhaps even general one day.”
“General Fa Mulan?” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”
“It has a ring to it,” Shang said softly. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “It just struck me how glad I am that I followed you up that hill,” Shang continued. “If I hadn’t been attacked by Shan-Yu, none of this might have happened.”
Mulan’s lips formed a coy smile. “You mean I never would have gone to Diyu, and you would never have been rescued by Ping’s sister?”
“That,” agreed Shang, “and I might never have discovered how I felt about…about you.”
Her breath hitched. She couldn’t take another step. Her feet had frozen, rooting themselves to the dusty road beneath her shoes.
“I meant what I said in front of the gates,” said Shang softly. “I’ll never meet another girl like you.” He shuffled his feet and went on quickly, getting to the point: “You told me in Diyu that you set your matchmaker on fire. Does that mean she never made you a match? I mean, do you have someone waiting for you at home?”
Mulan’s mouth curved. She had an idea where this was going now, and she had to press her lips tight to keep from smiling. “I have my parents and my grandmother.”
“Would they object if I visited?”
“Object?” A laugh tumbled out of her throat. “They might never let you leave.”
At that, Shang grinned.
Hearing her laugh, Yao, Ling, Chien-Po turned back and waved.
“They must be wondering what we’re talking about,” she said, waving back.
She touched her cheek. It was hot, and she could only imagine how flushed she must look. Her friends—and especially Mushu—would be very curious about why Shang had made her blush. She’d tell them, but not yet. For now, maybe she could blame it on a good run.
“Come on,” said Mulan to Shang, still glowing. “I’ll race you back.”
Together, they ran to catch up with the soldiers. They’d march to the Imperial City, to be honored by the Emperor. Then home, to begin the next chapter of their lives.
Elizabeth Lim was inspired to become a writer by the myths and fairy tales her father told her as a child. In addition to being an author, she is a Juilliard-trained composer and has written the scores to several award-winning films and video games. Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, she attended Harvard College and now lives in New York City with her husband. To learn more about Elizabeth, visit her site at www.elizabethlim.com
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