Life After

A fall breeze gently jostled the blades of grass at the Fa residence. Its subtle caress convinced the blades to give way, creating a gentle ripple across the yard. The unnatural heat of the midday sun forced the Fa family to retreat to the much cooler shadows of their home. Only the discreet sounds of nature filled the yard—tree blossoms rustling, water trickling, wind blowing—with the occasional lazy snort from Khan interrupting the quiet serenity. Several boulders dotted the landscape and could often be found covered in vegetation and the occasional sun-bathing reptile. One such creature scurried into its place in the far corner of the yard, its twisting crimson body stretching to absorb as many rays as possible. Quicker than the eye could follow the lizard flipped onto its back with a long stretch, curling its claws toward the heavens. Another pause and with a quick exhalation (almost as though it were huffing), the creature flipped back over and bolted into the grass. Its journey couldn't be noted for the rolling grass except for the occasional glimpse of red and. . .gold?

~.~

With a practiced hand, Mulan delicately dipped her brush into the inkwell. Keeping her wrist straight and fingers relaxed, she slowly lifted her hand, allowed the excess to drip, and transferred it so it hovered over the parchment. She hesitated for a moment before beginning her script:

To His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of the Middle Kingdom, Son of Heaven, Lord of Ten Thousand Years,

Your servant would be honored to study amongst Your Majesty's scholars. I am but a humble woman and can think of no words to express my gratitude. Rest assured, I shall not dishonor you.

May His Majesty's Reign Never End,

Fa Mulan

Mulan put away her brush and ink and stared down at her letter. The ink began to dry as she lost herself in thought. It was official. There was no turning back now.

Suddenly, a weight settled on her shoulder. "What's that?" a loud voice rang in her ear.

Mulan rolled her eyes and shrugged to dispel the creature. Barely rustled, the serpent merely slithered lightly down her arm onto the desk. "Just a response to the Emperor's last letter," she said, warily eyeing the dragon peeking at her words.

Mushu whipped his long head around to face her. "I didn't know you and the old man were pen pals." Snatching up the parchment, his large eyes swiftly scanned its contents, twirling his wispy golden moustache. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "What's all this about? Why haven't you told me anything?" He proceeded to wave the letter haphazardly in Mulan's face. "I'm your guardian ain't I? How am I supposed to guard you if you don't tell me nothing?"

Mulan had raised a placating hand but she'd lowered it resignedly seeing as Mushu was working himself into quite a state. There was nothing to do but wait it out.

"You're leaving me aren't you? Why would you do this to me? I thought we were a team! The dynamic duo! The Fierce Fa Fighters! Why would you break us up?" he cried, dramatically swaying as if he were feint. "And all for that old man!" Mushu straightened with a jerk and glared at her suspiciously, stroking his chin in thought. "Or does this have to do with that Captain?"

Pursing her lips in irritation, Mulan denied it calmly. It had been weeks since she'd last seen Shang, and she most certainly wasn't going to show Mushu their letters. "We've talked about this, Mushu," she replied patiently. "I've decided to serve on the Emperor's council. Remember?"

Mushu, ever in motion, twitched as he thought. He suddenly brightened and waved his claw around dismissively. "Of course I remember," he exclaimed. "Bringing up old news wastes time, Mulan. Time that we don't got!" He dropped the parchment and began to swiftly pace the desk. Quickly seizing her letter, Mulan scanned it and sighed in relief. His rough handling hadn't damaged it in any way.

"We have to start packing!" He skidded to a stop with a snap of his claws. "Wait, we shouldn't even have to pack. We saved China! They should provide everything we need; it's not like the Emperor is poor," he snorted. Falling theatrically onto his back, Mushu stretched with a lazy grin. "I'm not doing anything. Have His Highness pack for us."

Smiling in amusement, Mulan sat unobtrusively and let Mushu continue his tirade on just how much the Emperor owed them. "His Majesty doesn't expect me for another few weeks," she managed to interrupt the raving dragon. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "It seems he's sending a scholar here to—"

"Mulan?" a soft voice interrupted. Glancing over her shoulder, Mulan watched her mother enter with far more grace than she could hope to imitate. "To whom are you speaking?"

Peeking back at the now empty desk, Mulan replied nervously, "No one. Just talking to myself."

Fa Li's eyebrow twitched. "I see," she said primly. Mulan's cheeks reddened. "I heard you say something—to yourself—about His Majesty. Have you received word from the Emperor then, dear?"

"Ah, yes," she stuttered, hastily rising to cross the room. Pulling open her wardrobe, she removed a rolled piece of parchment from its contents, and returned to hand it to her mother. Li's long, nimble fingers made quick work of its tie. "It was delivered yesterday while you and Father were in the market," Mulan mumbled to her feet, wringing her fingers gently. Silence fell as Li began to read. Resisting the urge to fidget, Mulan stilled her hands and plastered on a patient expression as she waited for her mother to finish.

"I see," she repeated quietly.

"His adviser will be here for only a few weeks, Mama," she rushed. "It's only so I'll have an understanding of court life and etiquette before travelling to the Imperial City. I'll continue my studies in the palace with—," Mulan cut off as her mother raised a brow.

"Take a breath, dear. Words are meant to be savored on the tongue. Don't allow yourself to speak before thinking carefully about what you're to say."

Mulan dropped her chin. "Yes, Mother."

Nodding in approval, Li turned to exit, waving for Mulan to follow her. "Your father will want to know of this news, Child. I expect," she said, eyeing her daughter, "he'll want to hear it from you." Mulan felt her mother's glance and fought the urge to swallow thickly. They continued down the hall in silence, Mulan falling a step behind.

With her mother's attention turned away, Mulan felt her face crumple. In the past weeks, she had felt her mother's disapproval more acutely, and it was beginning to wear on her. Each conversation was exhausting and every silent critique pierced. Mulan knew she had never—and would never—be the daughter Fa Li hoped for; one who was graceful, quiet, unassuming, gentle, and kind. Spirits knew she'd tried. There wasn't a number high enough to count the many hours she'd struggled to even walk like her mother—ethereal, flowing, and silent. How she even managed to quiet the rustling of her clothes, Mulan would never understand.

The Fa women exited the western building into the courtyard and the midday heat. Mulan's back prickled while beads of sweat immediately formed on her nape. "This heat is strange," she blurted.

"Indeed, it is," her mother acknowledged smoothly, though she didn't seem bothered by it in the least. A familiar rush of irritation churned her belly. Turning away from her mother, Mulan scanned the yard and noticed her father and grandmother sitting in the shade of the main home. Grandmother was speaking quietly to Father—already a strange occurrence as Grandmother was not one for whispering.

At the sound of their approach both fell silent. "Husband, Mulan has something she wishes to tell you," Li said quietly.

"Does she?" Fa Zhou replied, turning his penetrating gaze to Mulan.

Mulan, however, missed it. Staring at her father's chin she nodded, "Yes, Father."

There was a beat of silence before Zhou spoke. "And what would that be, Daughter?"

It seemed even her father's chin hairs had begun peppering themselves with grey. "I received a letter from His Majesty yesterday while you and Mother were at the market. His Highness is sending a scholar here in the coming weeks to train me for court life."

Just above her focal point, his lips turned down. "I see," he said gravely. His broad chest swelled as he took a deep breath. "Have you sent a return letter? It would not do to keep the Emperor waiting."

"Not yet, Father," she replied formally. "I have it written. I planned on mailing it today in town. That is, if Grandmother is willing to escort me?" she questioned, turning her gaze to her elderly grandmother.

Grandmother Fa grinned widely. "Of course, Girl, of course. I need to get these aching bones moving anyway. All this tension in the air makes them stiff."

Mulan's gaze flickered to her mother's reproving expression as Grandmother, once again, made an already volatile situation more unstable.

"Help me up, Son," she demanded, waving a curled hand in Zhou's direction. Silently, Zhou stood, gripped his mother's wrist and upper arm, and smoothly pulled her to her feet. "Good boy," she groaned approvingly, reaching up to pat his cheek with absent affection. "Now Mulan, run along and get ready. Make it quick too. If I sit back down I can't guarantee I'll be able to stand back up."

"Yes, Grandmother," Mulan said hurriedly. Giving a quick bow to her family, Mulan turned, lifted the hem of her skirts with a haughtiness directed to her mother, and jogged to her room.

~.~

The three adults watched the youngest member of their family until she shut the door behind her.

"Well, that's that," said Grandmother Fa declared loudly. "I'll be headed to my room. I need to get my bag." Brushing the non-existent dust from her apron, the eldest Fa began to descend the stairs of the porch.

"Grand-mama," called out Fa Li suddenly, stopping her mother-in-law just as a fierce wind tore across the yard. Li needlessly smoothed her hair. "I must ask you to not encourage unruly behavior in Mulan," she insisted, her brow puckering with the uneasiness she'd hidden from her daughter. "She's going to court soon, and there they will not stand for such conduct. The people of the courts are cruel enough to each other. If Mulan continues in her current behavior. . .," she trailed off. "I don't want to think about what they'll do to her."

Grandmother Fa nodded and hummed solemnly in response. Looking up to the cloudless sky, she lost herself in thought as the heat bore down. The wind had loosened several strands of her thin hair that clung to her beaded brow, and she thoughtlessly brushed them aside. Both Zhou and Li waited patiently as their elder's eyes scanned the heavens. "There will be much scrutiny," she stated finally, her voice cracking as she lowered it. "She will need to carry herself with dignity, yes, but her spirit must be fiery lest she be trampled." She brought up her gnarled hands and shielded her eyes. "You are a mighty wind, Li. You can be either soothing or biting. See to it that you don't put out Mulan's flame."

Li's back stiffened as did her jaw. With a turn far too quick to be lady-like, she marched inside, leaving a deafening silence in her wake. Grandmother Fa continued to study the sky as her son watched on.

"Mother," Zhou finally sighed exasperatedly, his brow puckered. "Why?"

"Mulan has been through much in her few years," she said, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening, "and she's about to endure even more hardship." Straightening her small back, she fixed her son with an unyielding stare. "It would help her greatly, my son, if she knew she had the support of her family."

Grandmother Fa's quick eyes noted the twitch of Zhou's fingers. "Do not presume you care for Mulan more than Li and I, Mother," Zhou said quietly. "We love her more than life itself."

Aware she was approaching a line she should not cross, Grandmother Fa nodded sagely. "I know, Zhou."

At her accession, Zhou's shoulders fell minutely as he lowered his gaze. The creases in his face deepened as he released a low, groaning breath. In her mind's eye, Grandmother Fa watched her son's facial hair darken and thin out as his hairline crept forward, his skin stretching until all signs of age disappeared. Standing before her was her son from years past—young, strong, and whole.

Blinking away the image, Grandmother Fa resisted the old urge to hold her son. Had he been decades younger she would have, but he was not a boy who needed the comfort of his mother. He was long past needing her, and she was past the point of needing him to need her. Noting his graying hairs and obvious wrinkles, she saw the effects that worrying for Mulan had on him.

Reaching out, Grandmother Fa patted Zhou's arm brusquely. "Everything will be fine, my son. Mulan is strong because you and Li have raised her to be. Do not fear for her. Instead fear those who cross her path. I imagine Mulan herself doesn't yet know what she's capable of."

~.~

Mushu was lazing about in Mulan's window when she came storming in. He nearly sprang to his feet to greet her, but the fiery red blaze that permeated her normally emerald aura made him hold his tongue. Oblivious to his presence and with skirts in hand, Mulan paced the room with wide, aggressive strides, each step accented with a loud thump. The miniature guardian continued to watch silently as his charge succumbed to her anger.

After a particularly bright flash of crimson, Mushu spoke up. "Well, something's got you worked up, huh?"

Mulan made an odd noise in the back of her throat as she whipped around to see him. "Oh! It's just you," she breathed. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Mushu!"

The dragon rolled his eyes. Her powers of observation could use some work. "What did Mama Fa do this time that's made you all upset?" he asked, casually uncoiling his lengthy body. A deeper burgundy shade pulsed near Mulan's head, and Mushu cocked his head to study it through narrowed eyes. This grudge Mulan held for her mother was growing.

An exasperated noise came from the back of Mulan's throat as she massaged her temples. "Nothing I haven't been upset with before," she frowned. Moving her hands to rub her eyes, Mulan inhaled deeply, paused, and then released it. After a moment, Mulan dropped her hands and went to grab her bag, placing her letter in it gingerly. "I'm headed to the market with Grandmother," she threw it over her shoulder as she packed some coins. "Do you want to come?" she asked, opening her bag to him in offering.

Declining her proposal, Mushu watched Mulan shrug and leave the room. Her anger had dimmed significantly in those few minutes, but Mushu knew she hadn't forgotten.

Mushu twirled his moustache absently. There were many things Mulan picked up while surrounded by only men of war. One of them was having an inclination to anger. Though he'd never spoken to Mulan before she left for the army, like all guardians (and demoted gong-ringers), he was intimately aware of each member in his family, Mulan included. She'd never been one to fall prey to her own anger, or allow such emotions to be visible to others. Whether this development was good or bad Mushu could not yet see. Only time would tell.

Sensing Mulan leaving the house with the eldest Fa, Mushu watched them through the window as they made their way to the gate. Both sets of shoulders shook with laughter as Grandmother Fa lightly tapped Mulan's arm. Just as they were about to turn the corner, Grandmother Fa coughed into her hand and patted her chest distractedly.

Mushu had long since stopped watching his charges so he missed it when a paper-thin lining of black seeped into the aura of the Fa family matron.

~.~

The trip to the village market was a quick one that passed even more swiftly with her goofy grandmother by her side. Mulan felt her anger slide away as their shared laughter lifted her spirits; her grandmother's antics were a welcome distraction.

Before they knew it they were in the midst of the bustling, noisy marketplace. Wagons creaked by as the animals leading them bleated out their displeasure. Merchants fought to get the attention of every passerby, attempting to out-shout their competitors while aggressively waving their wares. Even on this strangely scorching day, the marketplace was no less busy. The dust kicked up from all the frenzied movement clung to everyone's sticky skin, including Mulan and her grandmother.

Mulan loved it.

"Come along, my girl," said Grandma Fa, looping her arm up through Mulan's. "I want to make a quick stop by the Yu's shop. Your mother's been needing more cloth."

A smile lit up Mulan's face. "The Yu's?" she exclaimed, her excitement drowning out her irritation at the mention of her mother.

"That's what I said," Grandmother smirked.

With a new sense of urgency, Mulan had to purposefully set her mind against lifting her skirts and sprinting down the sidewalk. She pulled it off magnificently, so she thought. Her steps remained small and dignified, while her chin stayed close to her chest. She felt the picture of a young, patient, demure woman. To the casual onlooker, however, it seemed that strange Fa girl was running about again, and dragging her mad grandmother behind her.

"Slow down, wild child," cackled Grandmother, unabashedly cinching her skirts so they rose to her aged shins. "The Yu's will still be there if we walk!"

Slowing her pace, Mulan glanced back at the diminutive woman. "Sorry," she grinned. "It's just been so long since I've seen Ji-Ji."

"It's only been a few weeks," Grandma Fa said, rolling her eyes amusedly. Mulan chose to respond by quickening her stride once more. Her grandma, no matter how much she griped, kept up fairly easily.

After several minutes of walking, dodging, weaving, and laughing, the two Fa women approached a corner shop, ducking swiftly inside to relieve themselves of the scorching heat. The thick, though cooler, air quickly soothed their heated foreheads as they made their way deeper into the store.

The interior vastly contradicted its outer appearance, being much larger than it seemed at first glance. Shelves lined the beautifully colored walls filled with all manners of cloths and fabrics. Solid hues of emerald, ruby, and sapphire sat neatly folded beside the bright, multi-colored, patterned cloths. Several feet of fabric hung from the walls in display, showing all who entered that art need not only be found on paper. Dragons danced their way across some, while flowers gently bloomed on others; all could leave a customer breathless with wonder. In a hidden corner of the shop, a young girl delicately plucked the strings of a large konghou, filling the air with the sounds of tranquility and peace.

The Yu family was known in many nearby towns for selling only the most fashionable of cloth. In fact, in many ways, they were responsible for deciding what was popular in the first place. They had made quite a name for themselves in this way, having started from nearly nothing and progressing to having several stores opened in neighboring cities. There was a constant demand for their fabric, and the Yu's were only too happy to provide.

These, however, were the last things on Mulan's mind.

Leaving her grandmother at the entrance, Mulan worked her way through the shelves, barely sparing a glance for the stunning colors she left in her wake. After getting to the very back of the shop, she finally found who she was looking for.

"Ji-Ji!" exclaimed Mulan, grinning widely at the tiny girl in front of her.

Her shoulders dropped. "I do wish you'd stop calling me that," she retorted primly, turning to glance behind her.

Jiaying was everything a Chinese girl could want. Her long, jet-black hair fell thickly to her waist, pinned away from her face with lovely sapphire pins to show off her dark mysterious eyes. Her slender frame and heart-shaped, ivory, blemish-free face shone even in the dim lighting of their store. No callouses had ever lined the creases in her hand, her nails had known no dirt. Full lips covering perfectly white teeth were painted red beneath a button nose and long lashes. Her beauty outshone everyone in their small town, and she most definitely knew it and used it.

Mulan snickered impishly before closing in on her friend, wrapping herself around Ji-Ji's slight frame from behind. "Absolutely not," she declared.

With a resigned sigh, Ji-Ji patted the hands wrapped around her middle. "Yes, yes, it's good to see you too, Mulan, now get off of me." Ji-Ji squeezed Mulan's hand briefly before swiftly pulling out of her grasp. Mulan smiled warmly at the gesture.

"Hello, Jiaying," said Grandmother Fa, interrupting the girls.

Ji-Ji bowed gracefully in greeting. "Hello Madame Fa," she replied with a polite smile. "It's a pleasure as always. Can I get you anything to drink? Or perhaps help you find some cloth?"

Grandma Fa waved away her questions. "No, no, my girl. I'm not so decrepit I can't do my own shopping. You two chat here while this old woman has a quick look-round. Though before I go, do tell me where that charming mother of yours is," she questioned, smirking wickedly.

Mulan was impressed when Ji-Ji didn't even twitch. "She's in the back at the moment, though I'm sure she'll be out soon. Would you like me to fetch her for you?"

Snickering, Grandma Fa said, "Let's just surprise her shall we?" Without waiting for a reply, the old woman ambled away to browse the shelves.

Tucking a long strand of ebony hair behind her ear, Ji-Ji raised a thin brow in bored disbelief at Mulan. "You must tell me what idea you had that convinced you to bring your grandmother here," she said. "You know my mother can't stand your family."

The Fa and Yu families were two of the wealthiest and most influential in the region. The Fa's wealth came through fighting and dying in the service of China and her Emperor. Money, land, titles, and animals were given to battle-hardened Fa's of the past as recompense for services rendered. Decades of military careers had thus, financially, put the present Fa's in a very secure position, and even now, they were still receiving monthly payments for Zhou's campaign—a hefty sum of money, a constant supply of farm animals, and a place of honor during all festivals, local and national. Fa Mulan's accomplishments had yet to be rewarded in such a way, but payment was expected to proceed soon. If asked, all Fa's, past and present, would say they dealt only in honor and were pleased their lives were of use to the Emperor. Amongst one another, the Fa's would snicker and agree that money was also a fine way to repay China's greatest warriors.

However, while the Fa's fortune had developed over several generations, the Yu's came into money seemingly out of nowhere. They began as a family only known of because their town was small enough that everyone knew their neighbor. Of meager means, the Yu's were a modest family who tended to remain in the background at festivals and parties, until they—in what appeared to be a spontaneous move—decided to open up their own store. It quickly grew in popularity as their cloth was of fine quality at a reasonable price and had the most beautiful designs in the region. Money quickly seemed to flow freely into their pockets. As such, the building they owned was expanded and more textiles were provided within a couple years of their opening. Now, a mere ten years later, they were still rapidly growing with about a dozen stores open in many of the surrounding towns and villages. The wealth of the Fa family was massive and had taken generations to accumulate; it was not preposterous to think the Yu's could achieve the same within two decades.

Mulan would be lying if she said there wasn't an undercurrent of tension between the two families.

She waved her hand dismissively. "And my mother doesn't like yours," she countered. "That's never stopped us before."

Ji-Ji's ivory skin crinkled at the corners of her smirking mouth. "Fair enough," she replied. Both girls snickered lightly at their miniature rebellion against their maternal parentage. They're friendship was one that spanned years, much to the chagrin of each of their mothers, and seeing as neither particularly took to their mother—Mulan because she was Li's opposite, and Jiaying because she was the exact same as hers—they found that a bond had formed between them almost immediately. They both understood exactly what it meant to be a disappointment.

"I do hope you are not wasting time gossiping when there is work to be done," a cool voice spoke, usurping the tranquility brought on by the konghou.

Mulan started at the voice over her shoulder while Jiaying smoothed her expression. "I saw no reason not to speak with her," Jiaying replied indifferently. "Her grandmother is the only customer here, Mother. I saw no harm in it."

"I don't ask you to think, Girl. I ask you to work," said the hardened voice, coming around to stand in front of the two young women.

Yu Ching Lan would never be described as a soft woman, by strangers or otherwise. With broad shoulders and a slender waist, Ching Lan was much too shapely to be considered ideally feminine, nor had she ever seemed overly concerned with it. Her long charcoal hair, regarded by many as her crowning glory, was woven into a severe-looking braid that ran the length of her back with loose strands framing her narrow face. Her lips carved a thin line beneath her small nose, though no one knew if they were naturally so nonexistent. More than a few citizens believed ire travelled deep within Ching Lan's bones, and as such made her pursed lips a permanent fixture to her face.

Ching Lan pierced Mulan with a look. "How honored we are to have such famous patronage," she said smoothly without as much as a twitch. "Fa Mulan, the Hero of China. Welcome home," she said, bowing to Mulan just deep enough to be mocking.

Mulan might have once been inclined to smile graciously and ignore such a jibe. However, her time with the army had seemingly whittled away what tolerance she had for the subtle verbal sparring women were adept at. Men, she discovered to her liking, were much more straightforward in their talk and their insults.

"Thank you," she said simply, finding this response all she had the energy for.

Jiaying's mother continued without remorse. "I cannot even begin to imagine the last few months you've had. To think, after your memorable meeting with the matchmaker you somehow found the spirit within you to take the place of your father in battle," she smirked. "I can only imagine his gratitude."

Though Mulan had never been adept at executing the womanly art of deception, she could well interpret it. The incident with the matchmaker could not remain secret in their town, and to bring it up was an attempt to only embarrass. The spirit of which she spoke was a rebellious one, implying the disobedience that caused her to fail with the matchmaker also drove her to break the law by entering the military. Not only that, but to say her father felt gratitude toward her taking his place insinuated her father was weak for leaning on the strength of a daughter. Ching Lan had dishonored head of the Fa family.

The young woman's insides boiled and she longed to strike the look from Ching Lan's face. Before Mulan could find biting words, a shuffling was heard behind her.

"Does anyone else hear a cow in the store?" cried Grandma Fa, with a bewildered look.

The tension broke as three women looked at their elder in unmasked confusion. "What are you talking about?" snapped Ching Lan.

Grandmother Fa jumped as if she hadn't realized the eldest Yu woman was standing right next to her granddaughter. "Ah! Why, it's only you, Madame Yu," she cried, digging her pinky into to her ear in an extremely unladylike fashion. "My apologies! When I heard your voice I could have sworn a bovine had been allowed inside with all this precious cloth." The elder quickly withdrew her finger and smiled condescendingly. "With age comes wisdom, yes indeed, but deafness follows soon after."

Mulan smirked and Jiaying's eyes gleamed as Ching Lan turned red with indignation.

Grandmother Fa moved on genially. "Actually, I'm glad you're here, Madame Yu. I'm out running errands with my lovely and heroic granddaughter since she needed a break from all the work she's doing for His Royal Majesty," she bragged excessively, "and I thought it would be a simply marvelous idea if your charming daughter were to come with us. What with Mulan going to court in a few weeks," she not-too-subtly slipped, "they won't be able to see each other for such a long time, and it would pain me so to keep them from seeing one another while they can," she finished rambling, giving the other woman a pleasant smile.

Ching Lan opened her mouth to speak, but Grandmother Fa stopped her with a clap of her gleeful hands. "Wonderful! Now don't you fret, Madame Yu; we'll have her back well before your shop closes. Come along girls," she grinned, turning on her heel and marching out. The two girls followed swiftly and with stifled giggles while Madame Yu fumed.

~.~

Zhou slowly rose from his bowed position as his prayers came to an end. The heady incense soothed his senses and calmed his mind, just as it was expected to. Feeling much more at ease, and ready to tackle the turbulent emotions of the most beloved woman in his life, he stood to his feet. His thigh cramped painfully, and with a grimace he straightened it painstakingly until it quit aching. Sighing in relief, Zhou stepped out of the family temple and made his way to his home, leaning heavily on his cane.

With Mulan and his mother in the market, the Fa residence had fallen nearly silent. Zhou found himself equally soothed and off-balanced by the lack of talking, singing, and shouting that usually filled the air. His home was surprisingly noisy for having only one child, and it had pained them all when Mulan left, eerily silencing the Fa estate. He walked sedately through his home, listening for the near silent noises of his wife maintaining the home. A swooshing sound coming from the back caught Zhou's attention as he moved past the kitchen. Sliding open the back entrance silently, Zhou found himself at Li's back.

He knew she still fumed over the latest encounter with his mother. She moved herself stiffly as she swept the porch with viciously precise strokes. Even now in their old age, Zhou thought her grace surpassed all other women. It was that coupled with her self-discipline and wit that Zhou had found attractive all those years ago.

"Wife?" Zhou said, gently drawing her attention to him.

She paused in her sweeping. "Husband," she replied as she turned to face him with downcast eyes.

They both stood silently for a moment—Li patiently waiting while Zhou struggled to find his words. After too long of a pause, Zhou moved forward and took the broom from his wife. She relinquished it immediately and looked up at him when he bent over to draw her gaze to his. "Would you join me for tea?" he rumbled. She nodded in response.

Zhou led the way back into the kitchen and kneeled down at the table while his wife prepared the tea. He meditated while he sat, further calming his mind in preparation. Only a few minutes later, Li quickly kneeled across the table from him and served him his drink. After he took a sip and nodded in approval, she poured herself a cup and drank herself.

Zhou twirled his cup and watched the liquid swirl as he spoke. "You are displeased," he began quietly.

"Yes," she affirmed, also keeping her eyes on her cup.

"My mother?"

"Yes."

Another pause as they each sipped their tea. Long ago in the beginning of their relationship, Li's displeasure (especially at his mother) had always taken Zhou by surprise. Now he couldn't help but chuckle at how obtuse he'd been when it came to women—a breed he'd thought himself well versed in. A wife was very different from a pleasure woman, he'd discovered quickly. Up until his marriage and even a few months into it he was trained, like all men, to believe a wife was like an added decoration to his estate. He'd been shocked to discover how an unhappy woman made for an unhappy home, and Li had no qualms about making her discontentment known.

"Mulan is going to get hurt if she carries on the way she is at the behest of her grandmother," Li broke the silence. Zhou continued to listen calmly. "The men and women at the Emperor's palace aren't like anyone Mulan has been around. They will mock her and her position with no consideration for what she's done for their Lord and the Middle Kingdom. Our daughter is a sweet, honest girl without a malicious bone in her body. As we raised her, I was under the impression we were never returning to the Imperial City. I saw no need to instruct in the ways of court duplicity—of subtlety—of shrewdness. Will she even know when she's being insulted?"

She finally lifted her gaze to Zhou and he could see how stricken she was. "After everything I'd seen, I found it refreshing how genuine Mulan was as she grew," she swallowed thickly as tears filled her eyes. "I only wanted to guide her to bring out that which was already a part of her. I didn't want to teach her anything else, and now she'll be torn apart," her voice cracked and she swiftly turned her face away.

Zhou didn't speak for a moment, allowing his wife to regain her composure. He laid his hand open on the table and waited until Li placed her delicate one in it. He soothingly stroked her tiny knuckles. "My dear," he began affectionately. "You have been the most gentle and patient of mothers. Do not feel guilty for not seeing the future. How were we to know the events that have transpired the last few months would take place? Perhaps you guessed our daughter would save the Emperor and all of China, but I'm afraid I missed the signs," he jested self-deprecatingly, and she smiled prettily at him.

"I'm afraid you're not known for your observational skills, Husband. A trait you seem to have passed to my daughter," she said quietly with a raised brow as her tears receded.

Zhou chuckled and brushed his lips against the back of her hand. "The best of you and the worst of me, I'm afraid."

"Indeed," she teased lightly.

Warmth filled the kitchen as the couple took solace in one another. Zhou squeezed his wife's hand lightly. "My mother said something about Mulan after you left," he said, tastefully overlooking the disrespect his wife had shown his mother, though Li reddened regardless. She knew how seriously her husband took honor and respect in his home. "Something about how Mulan is strong because we've raised her to be. I believe she is right," he said, quietly reminding his wife to remember, even in anger, to note an elder's wisdom. "We raised her to be intelligent and thoughtful. And with her time in the army, as much as it pains me to say, they've made her strong of body and mind. Our daughter is a force to be reckoned with. She will not be easily trampled."

Tears had begun flowing quietly down Li's cheeks though she didn't break eye contact. "I hope you're right, Zhou."

"I am," he responded, reaching across to wipe her tears.

~.~

"Your grandmother didn't even buy any fabric," snickered Jiaying, covering her mouth politely as they made their way down the street. Mulan giggled in response.

The two girls had taken their leave from Grandmother Fa with her blessing. They promised they'd stay in the market until Grandmother had finished her errands, and the elder left them behind with a chuckle and a wave. She always seemed keen on letting the girls be by themselves. Jiaying couldn't help but adore her for it.

Once the laughter died away, Jiaying quickly moved on to a subject she'd been curious about since the shop. "So you're going to court?" she questioned, glancing at her older friend.

Mulan smiled nervously. "Yes, but not for several weeks. A scholar will be coming here soon to prepare me for court. Apparently, the Emperor doesn't want me to embarrass him with my country ignorance."

"Understandable," she said, studying her dainty nails. "You are rather stupid."

"Shut up," Mulan snapped back, smiling.

Jiaying fixed Mulan with a mocking look. "'Shut up,'" she quoted in false disbelief. "It's a good thing this man is coming to teach you. It seems the military has stolen what little social graces you possessed in the first place." Mulan laughed at the normally touchy subject.

Both girls continued walking with no destination in mind, each trying to get the upper hand on the other. Jiaying didn't even take pleasure in how often she outsmarted Mulan. From the rumors she'd heard, there was no doubt Mulan was brilliant on the battlefield. However, as far as social niceties, Jiaying knew herself to be far superior.

They'd just bought themselves a snack at one of the stands when Mulan changed the subject. "So how is your business going?"

Jiaying took a small bite of hers and chewed slowly to gather her thoughts. "It's going well," she said finally, and with no small pride. "Father has allowed me to run the business for a month and a half. I've increased our profits while maintaining the same prices, and have managed to please nearly every customer who enters." Jiaying lifted her chin with a smirk. "If he doesn't hand me the business in the next year he'd be a fool."

It may have sounded like arrogance, but Jiaying knew she spoke the truth. She had a gift for numbers and sales, and her father knew it. With her being his only child, she was the only one left in the family to take over the business, and spirits knew he'd sell the whole thing before he handed it over to his wife's family. She began her training at a young age, earning more and more responsibility as time went on. Now, at her age, she knew she was more than capable running the business and implementing her own plans for her future. Jiaying briefly considered confiding in Mulan her ambitions, but decided against it. Nothing was finalized yet.

Mulan showered Jiaying with praise that she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Congratulate me when it's all mine," she said.

Jiaying smoothly changed subjects, goading Mulan into telling her more stories of her time serving in the army. Mulan would carry on that conversation practically on her own.

Once her pieces were all in place, Jiaying would tell Mulan. Perhaps they wouldn't be apart for as long as Madame Fa seemed to think.

~.~

Evening set beautifully in the Imperial City, and with the descent of the sun came the citizen's collective sigh of relief. The oppressive heat had been stifling with so many people crammed together. Fall finally reestablished itself as the dominant season by sending a cool breeze, washing away the scent of human sweat and animal excrement. Now, with temperatures at a reasonable level, people rushed about, glad they were finally able to leave their homes and having to make up for lost time.

A soldier stood overlooking one of the many gardens in the Emperor's palace and felt great relief at the coming night as well for the armor he wore was not built with ventilation in mind. A thick layer of sweat coated his entire body, forcing his underclothes to grip and chaff in the most uncomfortable of places. It was growing quickly to almost unbearable levels. He ached to remove his gear-though he could stand not knowing his odor-but still he stood. It was unbecoming of a captain of the Imperial Army to fidget.

The doors behind him opened (finally he thought) and what must have been a young servant boy scampered out, bowing low to Shang the moment he saw him. "Captain Li, they are ready to see you now," he cracked out. Shang nearly smirked at this boy on the cusp of manhood, but smoothed his expression quickly. He marched passed the boy with an absent nod and crossed through the double doors.

The war room was vast, built to intimidate and awe rather than comfort. The ceilings high above Shang's head were decorated with paintings of mythic battles. Dragons and phoenixes danced together as they rained down fire and ash on their enemies. The deep reds and blacks darkened the beautiful art, making it morbid and frightening. The flames of their supernatural battle trickled down the walls and became flowing red and gold floor-length curtains of the same shade. It set the very walls ablaze. A large round table sat in the center with six men kneeling at its side equidistant from each other. All sported their lightest armor and wore no weapons as was custom when meeting together with soldiers of the same rank.

As he approached, the six most powerful men in the Chinese Imperial Army turned their collective, heady gaze on the young Captain.

Shang gulped.

Trusting his body to move him smoothly and without embarrassment, Shang focused on soothing his mind. The prickling sensation of being studied made his drying sweat itch maddeningly, but Shang forced it away. Stopping a few feet away from the table, Shang bowed low in greeting. "You have honored me with this gathering, Generals," he began with a calm that belied his nerves. "I can only hope I make myself worthy of your time." Shang stayed bent for several long moments, and grew more anxious as the stifling silence grew. Should he move? Was there some sort of custom he missed?

"Take a seat, Captain," invited the deepest voice Shang had ever heard.

Too relieved to note who spoke, Shang rose and approached the table, sitting beside the man he knew to be General Kook. Conversation broke out again as if they'd never been interrupted, though Shang kept his eyes down. He was a guest and far, far, far below these legends. He would speak when spoken too.

That didn't stop him from studying his commanding officers, three of whom he recognized:

To his left sat General Kook. The outer corners of his eyes drooped heavily and were made even more obvious by his complete lack of brows. His smooth, healthy face might have tricked one into believing him younger had his hair and thick beard not been the purest of white. He sat smiling and chatting genially with General Miao, gesturing minimally and chuckling cordially at some joke his companion provided. Wisdom could be found in this man's face, voice, and actions. When he spoke in his gentle timbre, people listened. Seeing his current behavior, and if Shang had been a poor student of military history (and that he most certainly was not), he might have been fooled into thinking he sat by a good-natured grandfather and not one of the most relentless and uncompromising leaders of the army.

If General Kook was the most dignified of the generals, than General Miao looked most like a fool. His dark, leathery skin closely resembled a farmer as too did his manners, much to Shang's distaste. He slouched on his cushion, leaning on his huge hand and laughing loudly at his own joke, his front top and bottom missing teeth making the action grotesque. To prevent skewed speech, the gap-toothed general struck his side teeth with his tongue-an action that disgruntled many and never failed to amuse himself. Great caverns furrowed into the corners of his eyes thar deepened with his constant laughter and smile. The loose top-knot and poorly managed beard completed his image, or complete lack thereof. Though not a particularly impressive man to behold, Miao had no competition when it came to predicting an enemy's movement. The men under Miao more inclined to superstition believed he had the ability to see the future. There were many a battle Miao should have lost: when the enemy ambushed them, when the enemy outnumbered, or outclassed them. Very few times did Miao not come out on top. When questioned, he simply said he always had a backup plan. 'Just in case' he'd say with a grin.

The only other man Shang recognized sat to his right. General Gao had been around long enough that even the greenest recruits knew who he was. No one, not even the Supreme Commander, had lived through more wars, battles, skirmishes, even brawls, than General Gao. Nothing seemed capable of killing him. He'd outlived two previous wives-currently on his third-and had fathered seventeen children from those unions. Wrinkles snugly wrapped their way across his face. One broad trench across his forehead sunk so deeply it pulled his exceedingly bushy eyebrows with it. Wherever that fold went, his brows were sure to follow. His shortened neck allowed his enlarged earlobes to rest easier on his shoulders while his salt-and-pepper beard passed the lobes on the way to the middle of his chest. The thick bags under his eyes combined with his wrinkles aged the man at least ten years, and he wasn't young to begin with.

"I suppose we should begin," one of the unfamiliar generals said, drawing the attention of the rest of the room.

General Miao instantly reached over and pounded the man's back with a bark. "So eager, General Cheong! You've already been promoted; you're allowed to relax."

With not a hair on his head or chin, General Cheong seemed to be the youngest general in the room, though his brows had grown to what should have been his hairline-not even Gao could boast thicker ones. A long flap of skin connected his chin to the base of his neck that wobbled and flapped whenever he spoke. His lips barely stood out from the surrounding skin and his wide-set nose enhanced the effect. Altogether, he reminded Shang of some sort of wild fowl with a very small beak.

General Cheong smiled ruefully, shrugging off his neighbor's hand. "I'm afraid no one is quite capable of relaxing as much you'd like, my friend. Perhaps it is not I who must unwind, but you who must grow sober."

"You are not the first, nor will you be the last to tell me that," General Miao grinned. "The first person was my mother, bless her, and I imagine she'll be the last as well. She's nearly as old as our comrade, General Gao, though she doesn't have nearly his pleasant demeanor," he said, turning his teasing gaze to his companion.

General Gao deadpanned. "Idiot."

"Look who's in a good mood," snickered Miao.

"General Cheong is right to be serious, General Miao," said General Kook, gently rebuking his neighbor. "He has big shoes to fill. Shoes, I believe, once worn by our guest's father."

Shang felt their attention fall to him as his chest began its familiar ache. Feeling vulnerable, Shang locked down his emotions and stiffened his shoulders. Weakness had no place among these men.

"General Li's son?" asked a shocked General Miao

"Also the captain responsible for stopping Shan Yu," reminded General Kook.

"What is that woman being called now? The Hero of China?" asked General Gao, mockery lacing his gravelly tone. "Wasn't that creature among your men? One can't help but wonder how she flitted through training without anyone's notice."

Shang could feel curious, accusing, and mocking eyes on him as something hot and roiling smothered the throb in his chest. "Forgive me, sirs," he said, crushing his anger until it disappeared, leaving cool, sharp fragments in its wake. "I should have been more thorough. If you'd like, I'm more than willing to open up my men for your inspection. Perhaps you'd like me to strip them for your perusal? Maybe line them up to relieve themselves? Just to make sure it's not some disguised woman's trick." Shang lowered himself in a seated bow. "Of course, I'm always open to your suggestions."

A paused silence as the generals separated the biting words from the respectful tone. General Miao gave another barking laugh.

"Not necessary, Captain," retorted the Gao.

"I believe we've wandered from our original conversation. Don't you agree General Hwang?" said General Cheong, drawing one of the two silent, still-unnamed generals to the conversation.

Shang was suddenly gripped by extreme gratitude for he did not have to look into General Hwang's face. Having caught a glimpse of him earlier, Shang knew darkened liver spots checkered his splotchy face. His beard grew in patches, as though nervous as to whether their presence would be tolerated by their owner. His nostrils, having grown so large they looked flared, gave the impression that Hwang just barely had his breathing under control. As though he was this close to losing his temper. His eyes were tinged red and always watery-many said for every man he'd killed, their lovers and mothers haunted his sleep; their tears filling his eyes even during the day so he'd never forget. Not that he ever showed remorse. Merciless. Cruel. Dominating. Armies that found themselves standing against the wrath and fury of General Hwang quickly found themselves defeated and scarred. No military leader could strike such fear into an enemy's heart, for with Hwang there was no mercy. No quarter. No surrender. You fight or you die. The only grace given was to the enemy army's homeland, as Hwang uncharacteristically loathed any form of invasion. Hwang always said a scared enemy was a weak enemy. Strike terror into the very heart of an enemy nation by decimating their troops, and they wouldn't be so quick to pick up their blades in retaliation.

Hwang's spoke in a cold, hard voice. "I have little interest in a woman warrior." Shang felt Hwang's gaze heat his forehead. "I do have an interest in the son of our fallen comrade." His words surprised Shang into looking at him. Hwang's face remained as unyielding as his tone, opposing the kindness of his words. "General Li was a good soldier."

"And a good man," Miao added, finally somber as he remembered.

All heads nodded in silent agreement.

"Captain," began General Cheong, drawing Shang's attention. "My good fortune came at the cost of your own. Please know that while I never had the honor of working with your father, I will do my very best to honor his memory in word and in deed."

Shang's throat worked for a moment as he struggled to regain his composure. Looking away from their quiet attentions, the young man fought to speak past the lump in his throat and the unfair resentment he had for his father's replacement. "Your words honor me and my father," he finally said, relieved his voice didn't waver.

A moment of respectful silence passed as every warrior reflected on the lost life of an honorable man.

"As you know, Captain, we have been meeting for the past few weeks discussing your promotion," General Kook began, moving the conversation away from such saddening topics.

Shang nodded. He'd been away from his men for weeks for this. To say he'd grown antsy would be an understatement.

"The reason it took so long is because we are very divided on the topic," Kook said. "Normally, we wouldn't concern ourselves with it. Allow your colonels to decide, as is custom, but your case is rather different than most promotions."

Shang knew what that meant. His father was a general. He'd been promoted to captain very early. His men defeated Shan Yu single-handedly. He'd employed the work of a woman. Yes. His case differed from any other.

"That being said," said General Cheong, taking over the conversation, "We've finally come to an agreement. Your accomplishments are impressive, indeed. You are an accomplished soldier, Captain Li, and we are pleased with your service. However, as successful as your first march was, it is still too soon to tell if you are ready for further responsibility. You will keep your current title for the foreseeable future."

Shang's stomach dropped. "I understand," he finally responded having broken through his clenched jaw.

General Miao broke the awkward silence with a laugh "Oh, quit leaving him in suspense, Cheong," he grinned, his tongue visible through his gap. "Though you won't be promoted, we would be fools to not reward you. You heard Cheong. You're victory impressed many of us. You will be rewarded, Captain. Don't fret," Miao teased, obviously amused by Shang's strict formality.

"If you learned to shut your mouth, Miao, you'd know Cheong was getting there," spat Gao, sneering at his equal.

Miao waved his hand casually, "Yes, yes, but it was taking far too long." He smirked at the infuriated Gao.

"Peace, Generals," Kook cut in serenely. Ignoring the looks Gao and Miao were giving each other, Kook turned to Shang. "We've decided that you've proven yourself a capable warrior and honorable man. As such, we've decided to give you a yĭngzi."

Shocked into silence, it was all Shang could do to stare blankly at Kook.

"It is a great honor, Captain," General Gao prompted tautly, his wrinkles deepening as he waited for the stunned Shang to respond.

"Yes, I'm honored," Shang parroted, his heart pounding in his chest.

Being given a yĭngzi at his age was practically unheard of. His own apprenticeship was to a man three times his age, his death came several years prior to this meeting. The thought of having one never crossed Shang's mind. He didn't even know if he was pleased or not. Chatter filled the silence around him; the generals repeating what an honor it would be, and how pleased his father would be knowing his son was so esteemed. Nothing seemed capable of stirring Shang from his silence.

Until they said the boy's name.

"Fei?" Shang blurted, rounding the table with his gaze, a part of him hoping he'd misheard.

"My son," that deep voice rumbled for the first time since it had beckoned him to the table. Shang snapped his attention to the man before swiftly dropping his gaze in awed respect.

Studying him from across the table sat the Supreme Commander of the Army—arguably one of most powerful man in China, second only to the Emperor himself. He'd sat so still and silent through the meeting, Shang nearly forgot there was a seventh man at the table. His intense eyes rested deeply in his skull and were so dark it blended seamlessly with his pupil. Sharp angles structured his face, casting shadows in his cheekbones, eyes, and chin. His gray beard sat thick against his chest while his upturned nose peeked over the top of his moustache. The generals had fallen silent after their commander had spoken, and all that could be heard was Commander Fei quietly stroking his beard.

"I hope that won't be a problem for you, Captain," Commander Fei continued, his powerful, clear voice showing no sign of age.

Shang bowed till his forehead nearly grazed his knees. "Not at all, Commander," he choked, hardly believing what was happening.

"He shall be your yĭngzi, and you his bǎohù zhě. He is a spirited boy, Captain. He will require a firm hand." A pregnant pause. "See that you don't disappoint me."

It was all Shang could do to nod numbly.

"Good. You're dismissed."

Shang hesitated before rising stiffly. Avoiding the dark and demanding face of his most senior officer, he bowed jerkily before pivoting and marching away, surely resembling a gawky fawn learning to walk. The massive doors loomed before him as he quickly passed through, pausing in the hallway as they closed with a sense of finality. His gaze passed the corridor occupants unseeingly as he stared into space.

What just happened?

~.~

The doors shut with a boom, and the table of generals remained quiet as it echoed through the room. General Miao moved his hands first, rubbing them together giddily. "I like him!" he declared.

"Idiot," Gao snarled.

A/N: WARNING-IT'S A LONG ONE

Well there you have it. You all talked me into it. Hopefully this monster of a chapter lived up to your expectations since I made you guys wait a whole year (Sorry!). My writing style is different from the first two chapters, I think, but with the story I have in mind I'm going to stick with this chapter's style. Hopefully you all don't mind. I will try and update this story monthly (I plan on the 15th being my 'due date') so each chapter can be long and full of good things :)

A few things to note:

1. If you thought there were a lot of character introductions in this chapter, that's because there were. Not all of them will be used frequently, but most are important. And I haven't even finished introducing the whole cast! I love creating a lot of characters, and have nothing but faith in your all abilities to keep up. I figure, if people can keep up with the Song's of Fire and Ice series (not that I'm in any way shape or form comparing myself to George R. R. Martin!) then you all can keep up with this.

2. I have changed the military set up a bit from my very basic understanding of it in the first two chapters. I was super lazy then and, because I didn't plan on making it a multi-chapter story, I didn't do a whole lot of planning when it came time to talk about Shang's promotion. As I was thinking about it, it didn't make any sense for Shang to have jumped from a captain to a general as the two positions are vastly different. Therefore, I've built up enough knowledge about the military hierarchy to go from "Extremely Basic Understanding" to "A Little Less Basic, But Still Very Limited Understanding". So, what does this mean? It means this is how I imagine the rankings proceed: Lieutenant-Captain-Colonel-General-Supreme Commander (a title of my own invention). I apologize to any of you who might have a military background and find my lack of knowledge irritating. Please forgive me! This means Shang is striving for a colonel position, not a general. I will go back and change the last two chapters to fit with this reasoning.

3. I absolutely loved writing Mushu and the generals. I thought I was going to have a really difficult time writing Mushu because he is such a supernatural component to the story (I believe I actually told a couple of you that), but I had a ton of fun with him. I hope I kept him in character. The generals were really fun to describe and bring to life. Hopefully you enjoyed them as much as I did (especially Miao. I'm embarrassed to say how long I laughed when I came across his name. Mee-ow! It just seemed appropriate to me Haha)

4. I actually had the most trouble with Jiaying, which surprised me. I'd really flushed out her character (so I thought), and assumed she'd be easy to write. WRONG! I think it's because I imagined her basically the complete opposite of me. Hopefully it will get easier as time passes.

5. I found myself adoring Zhou and Li's relationship. I just think they're really precious :)

6. As always, read and review please! I'm always looking to improve my writing! What are your thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Let me know! I'll be much better about responding to your reviews this time around. I promise!

Glossary:

Konghou: an ancient Chinese harp much smaller than its modern-day counterpart (nowadays it more closely resembles a western harp)

Yĭngzi: literally means 'shadow'. It's not a term typically associated with apprenticeship; I just thought it would be appropriate

Bǎohù zhě: literally means 'protector'. My own official term for an apprentice's master.