Mulan, page 19
The courtyard, the ground paved again with a luminous pearl mosaic, stretched out almost endlessly. It was completely empty with the exception of a tree, exactly in the center. And it was clear this was no ordinary tree.
It was ancient; one could tell by its permanently gnarled and twisted limbs and its rugged bark, almost stonelike with age. But glossy green leaves sprang from the branches, cushioning the cascades of round, blushing fruit. Peaches.
Remember, it’s the peach you want, Daji had said. Mulan now knew better than to believe her, but she could not help being transfixed. A delicate aroma, fresh and sweet, tickled her nose. The peaches, velvety with rosy fuzz, glowed with a soft golden radiance, a flushed light that was more gentle and delicate than that of a lantern. They dangled temptingly, swaying toward her in the breeze, and Mulan knew that these were the queen’s prized Fruits of Longevity.
The peach would keep Xiu alive, the Rabbit had said. Now that they couldn’t find the flower, was this their only choice? When the Queen Mother had said Mulan could pick one thing, she had not forbidden the fruit as she had when the Rabbit had been with the Unwanted Girl. Mulan could pick the peach without punishment. Her arm rose and her hand reached for the fruit.
But at great cost, the Rabbit had also said. Mulan’s hand stopped in midair, the tender flesh of the peach only a fingertip away. What cost? The Unwanted Girl had been thrown out of the garden, and the Rabbit had been unable to save her brother. But was the cost even higher? Maybe when the Unwanted Girl had eaten the Fruit of Longevity, she was saved from the poison of Daji’s honey; yet she was also doomed to serve the White Fox for all six thousand years of her prolonged life. Was that what the White Fox had planned for Xiu? And for herself? It’s the peach you want, Daji had said. But it wasn’t what Mulan wanted. It was what Daji wanted. Your job is to bring honor to your family, Ba had said. Doing what Daji wanted could never be honorable. Mulan’s arm dropped.
She turned away from the tree, trembling, not even noticing that she was going through the same flower gate opening that she had already entered. She could not pick the peach. Xiu would die. And—Mulan swallowed—so would the Rabbit.
Mulan peeked into the pouch and looked down at the frail creature. “Rabbit,” she whispered. “I can’t find the plant. Help me!”
The Rabbit remained silent and still.
Mulan straightened and saw the sun edging closer to the horizon, large and burning white, glaring with harsh brilliance. She closed her eyes to hide the view. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Suddenly, she felt the Rabbit stir. “Mulan,” he mumbled, as something dropped to the ground. “For you.” Mulan’s eyes flew open as she looked to see what had fallen.
It was Xiu’s stuffed toy.
“MULAN! MULAN!” Lu Ting-Pin’s voice echoed toward her.
“I’m here!” she yelled back. She looked at the Rabbit, who was again mute and motionless in the carrier. She bent down to pick up Xiu’s toy, which the Rabbit had pushed out. Why had he done that? Was it by accident? Or something more?
Lu Ting-Pin dropped down beside her, obviously having realized that flying over the winding garden paths was the faster choice. “I found two plants with purple flowers,” he said breathlessly. “One has nine pointed petals, and the other is shaped like a horn with a star spreading from its center. Which is the Essence of Heavenly Majesty?”
Mulan was scarcely paying attention. Instead, she was staring at Xiu’s cloth toy as if seeing it for the first time. She had clutched that worn silk hundreds of times, so many times that she had forgotten what it had once looked like. But years before, the toy rabbit had been reddish orange and neatly embroidered with the standard poison-fighting animals. Suddenly she remembered the Rabbit’s medicine bag from so long ago, the one she had smelled to clear her stuffed nose. It had felt familiar then, and now she knew why. It was just like Xiu’s toy. The same silk, the same design. The viper, spider, toad, centipede, and scorpion all embroidered around a floral design. Xiu’s now-shabby animal was a dark copper color and the silk threads of the embroidery had all but worn away, with only a flower and the spider remaining. A white spider.
The stories of the past and the future—they’re all inside the Rabbit. Even the ones he doesn’t know he has. Mulan closed her eyes, remembering herself as a young girl and the old peasant who had given her the toy rabbit. The woman had been wrinkled with sun-darkened, dappled skin and, Mulan suddenly recalled, light amber eyes. The Rabbit can change into any kind of being, from a noble healer to an old peasant woman. Had the Rabbit been the peasant woman? Had the Rabbit given her this toy, knowing she would need it someday?
Mulan opened her eyes, the cloth rabbit still in her hands. Her finger traced the embroidered flower, its fraying lavender threads getting caught in the roughened skin of her fingers. She lifted her head and looked at Lu Ting-Pin.
“You said there was one with nine petals?” Mulan asked quickly. He nodded.
Mulan began to count the embroidered petals on Xiu’s toy, her finger trembling. Seven, eight, nine. Nine tapered triangles.
“It’s that one!” Mulan said, almost shouting with relief and excitement. “That’s the Essence of Heavenly Majesty! That’s the one we want!”
Lu Ting-Pin grabbed her wrist. “Come on,” he said, “this way!”
They raced along the crooked walkways as the sun hovered above the line of the earth, the sky soaked in a ruby color as it tried to linger. We must have the Essence of Heavenly Majesty in our hands by the night of the new moon, the Rabbit had said. As they ran, Mulan gazed upward, where the sky was already tinged deep blue by night.
“IT’S OVER HERE,” Lu Ting-Pin called.
Mulan panted, tightening the pouch to steady the Rabbit, whom she had quickly shifted to her back. They had run over bridges, through courtyards, and past waterfalls. Mulan was slightly amazed at how much of the garden Lu Ting-Pin had been able to inspect. However, considering how quickly he was gliding through the garden as her feet pounded and she gasped for air, she realized that even if he was not quite an Immortal, he still had a distinct advantage.
Finally, Lu Ting-Pin led Mulan through a gourd-shaped doorway into an open courtyard that expanded to a rippling lake. A golden pavilion stood in front of them, gleaming in the falling light. But its beauty was unnoticed by both of them as they rushed toward the greenery beside it. There, under the protection of an elegant cypress tree and two flowering bushes, grew a small patch of flowers.
And just as they reached them, the garden illuminated. Round lanterns magically lit themselves and lines of bright silk moons suddenly hung in the air all around them. Mulan looked up and saw that the lower curve of the sun was now touching the horizon, fiery ribbons of orange and red streaking across the sky.
The setting sun cast a golden glow on the flowers, which stood proudly—their leaves sprouting from straight stems that led to their purple blooms. Those blooms were a pure, rich violet, and they opened to the heavens like stars, shining with the rosy light from the sun.
Mulan, wheezing, looked at the cloth toy and then back at the flowers. You may pick only one item, the Queen Mother had said. They couldn’t make a mistake. A bee buzzed around Mulan’s face and she frowned as she shooed it away. Yes, the embroidered flower on Xiu’s toy and these flowers matched. This had to be the Essence of Heavenly Majesty.
“These are the ones!” Mulan said, too relieved to even feel joy. “We did it!”
As she crouched down to pick a blossom, the bee burst from one of the flowers and flew at her. Mulan swatted at it, the cloth bandages around her hands unwinding. Then another bee darted at her. In surprise, Mulan flapped both her hands wildly. Her manic waving pushed her off balance and she fell to the ground in an awkward sitting position, her arms flailing as she tried to avoid crushing the Rabbit.
But even as she sat with her legs sprawled, the bees continued to buzz angrily around her. Mulan flinched from them in confusion, waving her hands again to bat them away. Lu Ting-Pin came to help her, and as he placed his hand on her arm, the bees landed on either side of them.
A clapping noise filled the air, echoing into the sky. As both Lu Ting-Pin and Mulan glanced around in bewilderment, the bees transformed into the Red and White Foxes.
BOTH FOXES hissed and immediately pounced. But Lu Ting-Pin was faster. In a swift, fluid motion, his sleeves billowing, he grabbed the sword from his back and thrust himself between Mulan and the White Fox.
With his other hand, he yanked the gourd from his belt and tossed it at the Red Fox. The gourd spiraled in the air, colliding with the Red Fox in midleap. The Red Fox fell to the ground, her legs splaying as the gourd lay on top of her. She struggled to rise, but the gourd pinned her to the earth and the Red Fox could only thrash and spit.
However, only Mulan saw this. Lu Ting-Pin kept his attention on the White Fox, whose sharp claws and cruel teeth glinted as she leapt at him. With his spare hand, Lu Ting-Pin seemed to gather air, and just as the White Fox’s jaws were about to tear into his flesh, he threw the invisible chi at her. She flew backward, the power of Lu Ting-Pin’s energy propelling her as she reeled. Screeching with anger, the White Fox spun around against the sky, raking into her own leg with her paw and ripping out her hairs. And when she landed, the White Fox became Daji, beautiful and vicious, holding a handful of flashing daggers.
Daji shrieked the feral scream of an animal. Malevolence burned in her eyes, making Mulan cringe. But Daji was blind to her, consumed with punishing Lu Ting-Pin. She turned toward him, a whirling flurry of silk and savagery, and hurled a deadly rain of glittering knives.
Lu Ting-Pin raised his sword and, with movements too fast for Mulan to see, deflected each dagger, making a metallic drumming that quickened to a rolling, pulsating beat. His sword slapped away each blade, and as the daggers bounced off, they transformed into lotus flowers that landed on the stones with a gentle thump.
The sight of these scattered flowers only enraged Daji more and she stormed at him again, a knife in each hand. Yet these, too, were knocked away. Daji tried again and again, but no matter how she twirled and twisted, each dagger she cast fell to the earth as a flower. Finally, when the ground was strewn with lotus blossoms, Daji was empty-handed and panting with fury.
“Are you finished?” Lu Ting-Pin asked coldly. Half the sun had dipped below the horizon, its golden radiance still controlling the sky.
Daji shrieked again, a piercing cry of wrath. In a mad frenzy, she flew at Lu Ting-Pin with her fists. With a look of disdain, he thrust forth his empty hand, and the unseen chi struck Daji with such force that she collapsed to the ground.
Daji rolled to her side, gasping, her arms outstretched. As she tried to press herself up, her arms fell back and her face sank to the earth, buried in lotus blossoms. Lu Ting-Pin walked to her, his sword brandished.
“White Fox Demon,” Lu Ting-Pin said, “your time is over.”
LU TING-PIN pointed his sword at Daji’s prostrate body, her slender shoulders trembling as she breathed. Her fingers pressed into the ground, and she lifted her head to look at Lu Ting-Pin.
But the face that looked at Lu Ting-Pin was not Daji’s. Lu Ting-Pin froze.
Daji’s new face was not the elegant beauty of before, but softly round with gentle eyes of innocence. The cherrylike lips on Daji’s transformed face smiled, a sweet, shy smile. She propped herself up with her hands and gazed at Lu Ting-Pin.
“But would you kill me, Lu Ting-Pin?” the woman said, her voice now low and hesitant. “The one you called your delicate peony?”
Lu Ting-Pin blanched, his eyes widening. Behind the woman, the sun was a sinking, overturned bowl, spilling its last radiance into the darkening sky.
“You also called me your love,” she continued. “But it was your love that made my family disown me. It was your love that forced me out of my village. It was your love that broke my heart.”
Lu Ting-Pin remained motionless. He had paled to the same color as Daji’s white robe, and the red tinge of the sky burned on his face.
“It was you who abandoned me and our child,” the woman said, an edge to her soft voice. “It was you who made me dishonor my family, my ancestors. It was you who filled me with so much shame and resentment that it turned me against my own daughter.”
Mulan looked at the Red Fox, still pinned under the gourd. The animal was no longer struggling. Instead her eyes were intently fixed upon Daji, round and wondering.
“And it was you who turned me into this,” the woman said, her face now pinched and hardened. “You who turned me into a woman who doesn’t want her own child. A woman who is bitter and angry. A woman who no longer sees innocence or hope.”
The sword in Lu Ting-Pin’s hand began to tremble, and Mulan could see his mouth fall open in his shadowed face as he struggled to breathe.
“So, who is the demon, Lu Ting-Pin?” the woman said, her voice harsh and grating. “Me, or the man who destroyed the woman he loved?”
Lu Ting-Pin gave a cry as if struck and fell to his knees. The peach-wood sword dropped to the ground beside him, clattering. Lu Ting-Pin bowed his head and covered his face with his hands, his figure a hunched silhouette against the last of the setting sun.
AS LU TING-PIN sank into the shadows, the woman smiled. And with that look of evil satisfaction, her face transformed again, back to the beautiful, vicious face of Daji.
The last curve of the sun clung just above the horizon, clasping the sky with clinging fingers of orange and yellow light. The colors cast a halo around Daji as she stood triumphant. She glowed with unearthly splendor, her malice made even more dreadful by her beauty. Daji looked at Lu Ting-Pin’s bent figure and her eyes glinted with exultation.
“No man can kill me,” she gloated.
Her smile widened, her mouth stretching to show all of her teeth. To Mulan’s horror, those teeth grew large and sharp and pointed as Daji transformed back into the White Fox.
Daji’s evil smile was now the bared teeth of the White Fox. But the eyes were full of the same malicious glee as she looked at Lu Ting-Pin’s slumped figure. She raised her claws, preparing to pounce.
Mulan caught her breath. The White Fox was going to kill Lu Ting-Pin!
“NO!” Mulan shouted. Her blood burned and vibrated as if a firecracker had exploded inside of her. She flew forward, seizing the peach-wood sword from the ground. She clutched the sword with both hands, brandishing it at the White Fox. The White Fox turned to Mulan in surprise and then hissed.
You dare? the White Fox’s eyes said to Mulan, flashing with fury and arrogance. The White Fox bared her fangs and snarled. You die.
And then the White Fox leapt through the air at Mulan. A deadly arch of glinting claws and teeth, a malice of centuries soaked with the torture and disdain of innocents, an evil twisted in beauty and charm—all of it hurtling toward Mulan in a savage, murderous attack.
Mulan yelled, a guttural, ugly sound of desperation and defiance. Fire was crackling through her, her clenched hands pulsating with her boiling blood. The peach-wood sword swung through the air as Mulan, roaring with unknown power, drove it into the White Fox.
Celestial blue flames burst from the sword. Almost on its own, the sword slashed into the White Fox—as smoothly as if it were slicing snow. The cold flames flared into a giant blaze, swallowing the White Fox in a brilliance that made Mulan wince. Then an unearthly shriek shattered the Heavens, a piercing shard of sound that tore into the sky.
Mulan clung to the sword even as the icy flames hid her arm and the screech stabbed her ears with its fierce hatred. She could feel and taste the cruelty and bitterness of that scream, an inhuman sound of endless fury and violence that forced her to the ground.
But as Mulan collapsed to the earth (awkwardly, as she was trying to protect the Rabbit at the same time) the shriek withered to silence. The blue flames extinguished as if suddenly doused, and Mulan found herself splayed facedown, the hand of her outstretched arm still clutching the hilt of the sword.
Tightening her grip, Mulan looked desperately for the White Fox, preparing herself for another blow. But where was the White Fox? Had she disappeared? Mulan looked at the sword and saw that the blade now lay in a fox-shaped puddle of black ooze.
MULAN QUICKLY pushed herself up and pulled the sword away from the black puddle. A strong, sickly-sweet smell wafted from the viscous liquid; Mulan cringed, recognizing the scent of Daji’s poisonous honey. But then a strange scratching and buzzing filled the air, and the dark ooze began to tremble and quiver. A cracking sound came from the earth as if it were stretching after a long confinement, and then mounds of scorpions and spiders squirmed out of the murky pool, each crawling on top of the others in impatience. More and more creatures—snakes and caterpillars, as well as the scorpions—slithered out as the inky slime grew smaller and smaller. Hundreds and thousands of noxious creatures formed and fled until, finally, the black puddle was no more.
Mulan was mesmerized as well as horrified. The sword must have killed the White Fox. And now…the White Fox…Daji…was turning into this scourge of vermin. Mulan felt her heart sicken with revulsion, but she could not stop staring. Only after the last of the poisonous pests scuttled under the piles of lotus blooms and then to the far corners of the garden (where they later caused a blight on one of the queen’s prized azaleas) did Mulan turn away.
It was then that she felt the eyes of the Red Fox on her. The Red Fox, still pinned down by the gourd, full of suspicion and defiance, hissed.
Mulan looked into the Red Fox’s eyes. She saw the fox’s resentment and anger, her rage and fear, but Mulan also saw the Red Fox’s pain. A heartache of centuries, of a child unwanted and unloved and then of a girl who did not fit in, could not find a place to belong, and was manipulated by Daji. A girl a bit like herself.
