Mulan, page 17
“I don’t know if I can,” Mulan said faintly.
“Of course you can,” he said, looking at her proudly. “You are a mighty warrior. You didn’t slay that ugly brute for nothing just now, did you?”
“I only helped,” Mulan croaked weakly, but she found that the corners of her mouth were slightly curving. Ba was a mighty warrior. She would try to be like him. Her arms tightened again around the gourd.
Lu Ting-Pin flashed her a grin and then hopped back to the boat protruding from the immobile sea beast, even more grotesque in death. Its speckled, turgid flesh was beginning to swell like a blown-up pig’s bladder, and the stench of death wafted. Bracing his legs against the bloated body, Lu Ting-Pin grunted as he forced the boat out of the beast. The purple-blue blood now poured out from the gash, making large spreading pools of a nauseating syrup. Lu Ting-Pin leapt lightly through the air to the back of the boat, now pulled mostly out of the beast’s flesh. The bow of the boat was stained in blood and the mast was broken, the torn sail flapping madly from its single attached rope. Lu Ting-Pin tugged again at the boat, this time jerking it free as the unruly sail swung from side to side.
As the boat came unstuck, an eerie gulping noise echoed across the waves. The monstrous sea creature began to lower in the water, the blood-coated water gurgling violet bubbles as it sank. Mulan gaped, her wide eyes returning the stare of the swollen, bulbous, unseeing eyes of the beast as the water slowly covered and hid them from view. Then, with a sound that was oddly like a rude burp, the dead beast was completely submerged and gone.
“Come on up!” Lu Ting-Pin said, his voice again coming from above and behind her. As she leaned back, she saw that he was standing on the boat. She looked at him helplessly, almost delirious with exhaustion. The sun made a halo of light around him as if granting him divinity, and his arms reached down to her, seeming to extend like the Rabbit’s had when he had pulled her from the gorge. Dreamily, Mulan felt Lu Ting-Pin’s hands grasp under her arms and pull her up onto the boat.
“You can rest,” Lu Ting-Pin said to her. “We’re fine, for now.”
Half-heartedly, Mulan loosened the wrap holding the Rabbit and found him already asleep, his limp body rising and falling in unison with hers as they breathed. Her wet clothes were leaking small lakes of water that seemed to glue her to the ground, and with great effort, she raised her hand to feel the pouch at her hip. Yes, the Dragon Beard Grass was still there.
Then, with her final strength gone, Mulan’s arms splayed to the floor from the weight of her sleeves. The boat rocked like a cradle. Wearily, Mulan closed her eyes, welcoming the still peacefulness of sleep.
MULAN SNORTED awake, feeling as if she were being roused from a century of sleep. She forced her eyes open, painfully breaking the crust that had formed on them during her slumber. As she sat up, she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, slightly revolted to find she had been drooling.
Where was she? Oh, she was in the shelter of the boat. Lu Ting-Pin must have placed her and the Rabbit there; she vaguely remembered being carried.
Mulan looked at the Rabbit and she felt her heart pale, a sudden grief falling over her like rain from a clear sky. She knew he had not woken since their encounter with the sea beast, and she suspected that he would not until they had the medicine. For now he was just like Xiu, as still and as white as death. But not dead, Mulan thought, clenching her jaw defiantly. She and Lu Ting-Pin could still save them.
Quietly, she rummaged through the remaining supplies—everything rather soggy and slightly damaged—until she found the saddlebags that she had taken from Black Wind’s back. Carefully, she opened the one she was looking for. Yes, Xiu’s cloth rabbit was still there. Mulan reached for it and saw that, even though damp, it was uninjured. She hugged it close, seeing her gentle sister smiling at her as she closed her eyes.
She inched over to the Rabbit and pressed the toy close to him. Did she imagine it, or did his nose quiver? In the darkness, she couldn’t quite tell, but at least with Xiu’s toy next to him, he looked less lonesome.
“Mulan! Are you awake?” Lu Ting-Pin, probably hearing the movement, called to her. She ducked out of the shelter.
The light of day blinded her and she felt herself flinching from the brightness. As her eyes adjusted, she gasped.
Lu Ting-Pin had somehow managed to fix the mast, and it reached to the sky bandaged, the tattered sail tied to it with a series of questionable knots. But beyond the wounded boat, the sea was lapping in gentle waves and had taken an azure color. The water met the celadon sky with layers of soft, low-hanging clouds. And in that distant mist rose a majestic mountain island—green and gold, with numerous peaks that touched the heavens. The highest summit glinted with a sparkling light, as if it had a twinkling star as a beacon.
“Kunlun Mountain!” Lu Ting-Pin announced with a flourish, even though it was unnecessary. Mulan looked at him and saw that even though he was smiling and looking pleased with himself, his face was worn and the skin under his eyes looked as if it had been rubbed with soot. She realized it had been Lu Ting-Pin’s exertions that had brought them to Kunlun Mountain in time, and that it had been no small feat.
“We made it!” Mulan said, her smile growing into a grin. She laughed. “We made it!”
Lu Ting-Pin joined her laughter, both of them giddy with triumph and hope. Their laughter—Lu Ting-Pin’s deep bellows and Mulan’s clear peals—made a joyous music that echoed in the delicate blue of the sky.
GRR—AAAH—OOOHMP! The boat made a deafening warning groan that was neither joyous nor musical. Mulan and Lu Ting-Pin looked at each other and then scanned the horizon. No other boat; no horrid sea creature. The water and sky were clear, with only the slightly tattered red sail marring the picturesque view.
The boat groaned again. Frowning, Lu Ting-Pin went to the back of the boat to check the yuloh.
Mulan walked toward the bow, just as concerned. Something was not right. She looked out again over the sea, searching for some sort of foe hiding in the water. But no, the waves were like crystal, and while she could see the flashing orange and yellow of playful fish, nothing seemed ominous. There was only the soft slapping of water up against the sides of the boat.
But wait, was the water rising? There was more water covering the side of the boat than a moment ago…and were the fish getting larger? No, the fish were getting closer! The water wasn’t rising—the boat was sinking!
“MASTER LU!” Mulan called, “Look at the water…and the boat.…I think we’re sinking!”
“What?” he exclaimed and rushed over to where Mulan was standing. They both leaned over the edge, watching the water rise against the planks of the boat.
“Great Emperor of Jade!” Lu Ting-Pin said as if swearing. “What a fool I am! How did I forget?”
“Forget what?” Mulan asked, confused.
“The water surrounding Kunlun Mountain is different from the rest of the sea!” Lu Ting-Pin exclaimed. “It’s lighter!”
“Lighter?” Mulan said, still confused. “What do you mean?”
“It’s…it’s…” Lu Ting-Pin struggled to explain, his hands gesticulating in panic as well as frustration. “It’s not as thick.…Things cannot float on it!”
“Things cannot float on it?” Mulan repeated.
“Nothing can float on it!” Lu Ting-Pin said. “Not ships, not gourds, not people! This water sinks everything!”
Mulan stared at the edge of the boat, now almost level with the water. She ran to the covered shelter, quickly put on the carrier, and gently eased the Rabbit into it. She touched the waterproof bag at her waist, checking its secure closing and attachments. Before running out, she saw Xiu’s cloth toy lying on the ground. Quickly, Mulan grabbed it and shoved it in with the Rabbit.
Mulan dashed out from the shelter and was dismayed to see water already splashing over and onto the deck. Lu Ting-Pin stood with panicked eyes, pulling his hair in agitation.
“What should I do? What should I do?” he was muttering. “Can’t swim…can’t fly…”
“Wait,” Mulan said. “What do you mean you can’t fly? I thought you could just carry us over from here!”
Lu Ting-Pin shook his head wildly. “I can’t fly carrying mortal weight!” he said helplessly. “When the Immortals took away my fly whisk…”
Mulan did not bother to listen to the rest of Lu Ting-Pin’s words. Obviously, these were the limitations the Rabbit had mentioned. The water was now up to her ankles and rising swiftly. She glanced around, hearing only her heartbeat and the sloshing of water. What should she do? You can never give up, can you? Ma had said. No, Mulan thought, she couldn’t. The red sail flapped at her, and instinctively, Mulan jumped to the mast.
Her blood pulsating as if it were boiling, she gave a forceful jerk to the ropes attaching the sail to the stern. The already weak ropes wrenched free and flew to her. She grabbed their ends, twisting and knotting, her hands taking orders from some unknown part of her. Then she turned to the sail and, with both hands, gripped the red silk and—RRRIIIIIPPP!!—tore it from the mast.
Quickly, she fished out the ends she had just knotted together, which already lay in a knee-high bath of water. Shifting the carrier so that the Rabbit avoided the cords, she brought the large knot to her chest and grabbed the upper lines. She looked behind her. The sail was falling, but the gentle breeze had kept it from collapse. It was still open to the wind.
The water rose up her legs and Lu Ting-Pin stood in front of her, still frowning in bewilderment.
“Master Lu!” Mulan hissed. “Blow!”
“What?” he said, surprised.
The water was at her waist now, and she looked desperately at the sail behind her. “Just blow!” Mulan ordered, her voice like a falling boulder.
Lu Ting-Pin did as he was told. Just as when he had blown away the fog before, he gulped the air, filling his cheeks. Then his mouth split open and a great gale blasted forth. The wind resounded across the sea, thundering in Mulan’s ears; her hair whipped back and she closed her eyes from the force of it.
And it filled the sail behind her. The red silk billowed out, and with a violent jerk, Mulan felt herself being thrown up into the air. Her breath was knocked from her, and only by luck was she able to grip the ropes in time before falling back. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she found herself gliding in the sky, her wet clothes flinging water droplets like flying rain. Down below, right over the top of the vast expanse of smooth green water, the small toy statue of Lu Ting-Pin stood looking up at her, his mouth still open and the back of his head touching the tip of the boat’s disappearing mast.
MULAN WATCHED as Lu Ting-Pin finally turned from watching her and bent down to seize something from the water. When he straightened, he was holding a sword, which he quickly slid onto his back. Then he raised his arm and leapt into the air.
He flew past her, shooting her a wink, while she grimaced. Rise up and continue, Ba had said. Well, she was rising, but Mulan’s hands were burning and she could already feel the bruises on her chest and shoulders from the ropes. These pains were not improved when she felt another rough jerk. She craned her neck and saw, from the corner of her eye, the figure of Lu Ting-Pin pulling the sail.
The water sparkled as she skimmed above, glittering azure silk rolling out below her. The sea lightened to pale green and then to celadon, and while Mulan could not see behind her, she suspected they were close to shore. This proved correct as she felt the sail being pulled downward and jade rocks the color of moss in snow began to jut from the water.
The rocks became more abundant, as did the green color, for soon the ground below her was the vibrant shade of a kingfisher’s wing. They were past the glittering sands, above the rocky cliffs. The land was coming closer to her now, and Mulan saw that the emerald iridescence was actually feathery grass that brushed against her feet as she descended. She dropped gently, the plumed grass softening her landing.
Mulan lay splayed in the grass, immobile with relief. The tufted grass turned from green to blue as it swayed beside her in the sun. She winced as she finally unclenched her fists, releasing the ropes—two raw, scarlet lines were etched painfully in her palms where the ropes had cut into her. Gingerly, she checked the Rabbit, carefully shifting him so that he lay on her heart and she could feel his faint breath. She touched the pouch at her waist and sighed with relief. That was safe, too.
The face of Lu Ting-Pin suddenly beamed down at her. Kneeling, he helped Mulan sit up and tilted his gourd to her mouth. There was water in the gourd now—cool, sweet water without even a hint of the briny sea. Mulan gulped it down.
Lu Ting-Pin made a tsking sound and, without a word, ripped a piece of fabric from the bottom of his robe. This he wrapped around Mulan’s hands, the deep trenches caused by the ropes raw and bleeding. He repeated this with her other hand, and Mulan felt the burning pain dissipate to a dull, faint ache.
“That was a feat worthy of an Immortal,” Lu Ting-Pin said to her, smiling. “I’m a bit jealous that I didn’t get to do it myself.”
Mulan shook her head, but her mouth curved. She took another sip of water as the immense expanse of sea glinted and the sand below her shimmered as if made from the dust of diamonds. She shook her head again. The water was calm and limpid and as lovely as a painting—yet it had almost just killed her.
But her curving mouth fell open when she turned around to see the place she had landed; she was not prepared for the beauty of the Isle of Kunlun Mountain.
Beyond the waving grasses were forests of curved and twisted trees. A pearl-white mist floated in and among the top branches, creating a sea of clouds. And rising from that, reaching into the sapphire sky, was a series of craggy, rounded peaks of jasper. More trees dotted these cliffs, their gold, green, and red leaves harmonizing with the speckled stone. It was a glorious, ancient fairy-tale painting come to life, and Mulan caught her breath in amazement and awe. Lu Ting-Pin sneezed.
“It’s the peacock grass,” he said apologetically, rubbing his nose. “Immortal paradises and all their perfect purity always make me feel a bit ill.”
Mulan could not help laughing. “Have you been here before?” she asked.
Lu Ting-Pin looked even more uncomfortable. “Once or twice,” he said, looking up at the sky guiltily.
Mulan decided it would be best not to ask about his previous visits. She looked up at the sky, where the afternoon sun was just starting to tire and begin its slow journey to night. They had made it to the Isle of Kunlun Mountain, but now they needed to get to the Queen Mother’s garden. Mulan looked at the Rabbit, curled up helplessly and mute in her pouch. He was not going to be able to offer any guidance. She sighed and gently pushed Xiu’s stuffed toy to his nose.
She looked up at the tall peak, standing like a pillar of Heaven. A light glinted and glittered from the top, and Mulan thought she could see the arched rooftops. “The palace must be up there,” she said, “and the garden, too.”
Lu Ting-Pin nodded.
“Well, how do we get there?” Mulan asked.
“We’ll have to go see the Queen Mother,” Lu Ting-Pin said reluctantly.
“We do?” Mulan looked at Lu Ting-Pin, who looked even more ill at ease than before. “How are we going to do that?”
“Oh,” Lu Ting-Pin said faintly. His eyes were round, and he pointed behind Mulan. “They’ll take us.”
MULAN WHIRLED around and saw that a line of guards stood behind her. Soundlessly, they spread out, and soon Mulan and Lu Ting-Pin were surrounded. One guard, who judging by the ornateness of his gold armor was of higher rank, stepped forward.
“We’re here to take you to see the queen!” he barked.
“See,” Lu Ting-Pin said, turning to Mulan with a tinge of his roguishness returning, “problem solved.”
Mulan smiled at him weakly.
“We’re ready whenever you are,” Lu Ting-Pin said politely to the armed men. “Lead the way!”
They marched to a path of jade stones, which Mulan had not noticed hidden in the feathery grasses. This led them through a thicket of flowering trees, the soft breeze revealing the luminous centers of delicate pink blooms as pearls.
Except for the stomping of their boots, the guards were silent as they advanced. As Mulan stared at some coral-shaped mushrooms changing colors, Lu Ting-Pin nudged her.
“So, I think it might be better if you make the request to the Queen Mother,” he said in a low tone. “She might not be happy to see me.”
Mulan gazed at him sidelong. “Why?” she asked, in an equally soft voice. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of a spotted deer running, its crystal antlers sparkling. “What did you do?”
“Well, uh,” Lu Ting-Pin said, giving Mulan a sheepish look, “she didn’t appreciate the birthday present I brought for her husband.”
“What did you give him?” Mulan whispered. Through the trees, in the distance, a white waterfall was cascading while multicolored birds with long swooping tails flew above.
“A porcelain bedpan,” Lu Ting-Pin admitted.
Mulan almost stopped walking.
“You gave the Supreme August Jade Emperor a bedpan for his birthday?” Mulan hissed in disbelief, giving Lu Ting-Pin the full attention of her incredulous face.
“He was turning one hundred thousand!” Lu Ting-Pin said, defensively but with a mischievous curve to his mouth. “I thought it would be useful.”
Mulan shook her head, suddenly understanding why the Rabbit always rolled his eyes at his good friend.
They were out of the flowering forest now and at a set of curving stairs, also made of jade—its vivid color blending into the peacock grass that seemed to grow everywhere. Mulan looked at the lush greenery and touched the pouch at her waist gratefully. She had not seen a blade of Dragon Beard Grass anywhere.
As they mounted the stairs, her eyes widened. They stretched all the way up the jasper mountain, thousands and thousands of steps reaching into the clouds. She whispered to Lu Ting-Pin in alarm, “We’re going to be climbing the stairs for days!”
