Mulan, page 20
The sun had finally sunk behind the horizon, and shadows of night began swallowing the vivid light it had left behind.
Swiftly, Mulan bent and plucked a blossom of the Essence of Heavenly Majesty. She held it up to the twilight, a delicate silhouette against the amethyst and orange, and looked at the Red Fox.
“I have the Essence of Heavenly Majesty,” Mulan said to her. “The prophecy of the Hua sisters is now set and cannot be changed. Leave my sister in peace.”
And with that, Mulan walked over to the Red Fox and kicked off the gourd. As it rolled away, the Red Fox jumped up and immediately crouched to attack. Mulan, one hand grasping the flower and the other the sword, pointed the weapon at the Red Fox.
“Leave my sister in peace,” Mulan repeated.
The Red Fox gazed up at Mulan, and again, their eyes met. They looked at each other for a long moment, unsaid words passing between them.
Then a clapping sound echoed and the Red Fox disappeared into a blur of feathers that streaked into the sky, melting into the gloom of the oncoming night. The lanterns of the Garden of Splendor magically brightened, thousands of silk moons glowing to offset the emptiness of the heavens above. The Red Fox was gone.
AS SHE GAZED at the blankness of the sky, Mulan felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Lu Ting-Pin.
“She was right. No man could kill the White Fox,” he said. His gourd was back on his belt and he was pale, obviously still shaken by his encounter with Daji, but he was smiling at her. “Only a girl could. And only a girl like you.”
Mulan tried to smile back, but she was too startled by his words. A girl like her? And for a moment, a flame sparked inside her, casting light on a reflection of herself she had never seen before. Maybe she was not a girl who was too bold and stubborn and rough. Maybe, perhaps, she was, instead, a girl with great courage and determination and power. A girl who would bring honor to her family, but in a different way than expected.
The flame quickly flickered away, but she found she could meet Lu Ting-Pin’s admiring eyes without discomfort. She handed him the sword, charred and blackened, her arms suddenly trembling with its weight. As he took the sword, the strips of cloth bandaged around her hands fell to the ground. Her hands were completely healed and unscarred.
Lu Ting-Pin plucked the cloth from the earth. “The Queen Mother wouldn’t like it if we left garbage here,” he said. “She’s already going to be upset with all those bugs.” He gave Mulan a wry grin but then glanced down at the sword, weighing it in his hand as if confused. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, apparently unsure of what to say.
Meanwhile, Mulan found a stone bench—one that the queen no doubt used to enjoy views of the lake, though Mulan was oblivious to impressive views as well as to speechless Immortals. Instead, still clutching the Essence of Heavenly Majesty in one hand, she was shifting the carrier to the front and taking out the Rabbit. He was even smaller than before; she could feel the brittleness of his bones through the thin fur as she lifted him—dull, matted fur the color of ash. His body no longer burned with heat. Instead it was cold and clammy. His eyes and mouth were now pale drawn lines, and he was as still as a stone.
Mulan looked up at Lu Ting-Pin with fearful eyes. “Is he…” Mulan started.
Instead of answering, Lu Ting-Pin pulled the gourd from his waist and sliced it with an elegant swoop of his sword. The gourd’s top fell to ground, and what remained in Lu Ting-Pin’s hand was the bowl-shaped bottom.
“The grass!” Lu Ting-Pin said, urgently, returning the sword to his back. “The flower!”
Mulan rummaged through the bag on her hip, and when she had both the flower and grass in her fingers, she saw that the gourd bowl had filled with hot water, steam rising from it like a cloud. She dropped the plants inside.
They dissolved and the water immediately changed color, becoming a silvery violet. A strong, crisp scent—like that of a cool morning in spring—puffed from the bowl onto their faces.
The Rabbit twitched. His eyes stayed closed but his mouth opened. Mulan hoisted him up, and Lu Ting-Pin tilted the bowl to the Rabbit’s mouth. The shimmering water spilled into the Rabbit’s mouth, dripping onto his chin and whiskers. They watched as the Rabbit gulped, the liquid dropping down his throat.
Nothing.
The Rabbit did not move again, nor did he make a sound. Mulan looked at Lu Ting-Pin helplessly. Had they been too late after all? The sky was still clinging to the remains of the sun, but the twilight deepened to dusk. Mulan’s heart chilled and Lu Ting-Pin stroked his beard. But then…
“I’d get better faster,” the Rabbit said, his voice faint and his eyes looking up at them expectantly, “if you’d give me some more.”
THE RABBIT made a miraculous recovery. After another sip of the liquid, his eyes brightened and he could sit up. After two more sips, he was able take the bowl on his own to drink. And after six sips, the Rabbit was fully restored and stood to his full length, his fur now lustrous, rippling with a luminous glow like a silver pearl.
“Well done,” he said to Mulan, handing her the bowl. He said no words to her about the search for the flower or the White Fox, but when he met her eyes, Mulan flushed with pride, her heart nested in as much pleasure as if he had awarded her a prize.
The deep purple curtain of dusk was drawing over the sky, and the Rabbit frowned. “We should go,” he said. “Your sister waits.”
Mulan jumped up. Xiu! Ma and Ba! Home. The Rabbit’s words were like the very last heft of the shovel while digging a well—her dull, constant pain cracking open to a rushing spring of yearning. It was time to go home.
“Need any help?” Lu Ting-Pin asked. He had changed, too, Mulan realized. The paleness had left him, and he seemed taller and more vivid. His hair was blacker and his eyes sparkled brighter. Even his robes were bluer—before they had been the dull color of open sea, and now they were the brilliant hue of the afternoon sky. However, the biggest change was the sword in his hand. While the Rabbit had been regaining his strength, Lu Ting-Pin had been wiping away the soot and grime from his blade. Now it gleamed, and it was the gleam of metal, not wood.
“That counted?” the Rabbit asked dryly.
“Apparently,” Lu Ting-Pin said, grinning. “The terms of the punishment were that the sword needed to kill ten thousand demons. They forgot to specify that I had to be the one wielding it.” He winked at Mulan.
The Rabbit rolled his eyes. Mulan smiled.
“So, let me,” Lu Ting-Pin said. “It’s been so long!”
“Fine,” the Rabbit said. “But hurry up. Mulan wants to get home.”
Lu Ting-Pin took the pouch Mulan had used to carry the grass and placed it on his belt. Though it had been empty, he took from it a small piece of paper and a paintbrush. He painted a cloud and showed it to Mulan with a smile. The Rabbit sighed.
Then, with a flick of the sleeve, he tossed it. The paper dissolved into the air before reaching the earth, becoming white smoke. The smoke grew thicker and fuller until it formed a huge, iridescent cloud, as large as a bed but shaped a bit like a steamed bun, hovering above the ground.
“Your chariot,” Lu Ting-Pin said, gesturing at the cloud with a flourish. “This will whisk you back to your sister and family.”
“You could have transformed one of these lotus flowers,” the Rabbit grumbled. “One fewer for the queen’s gardeners to pick up.”
Lu Ting-Pin just waved him away with a grin. “Good to see Tuzi is back to his old form,” he said to Mulan. Then his face softened. “But this is where we say goodbye.”
“But your gourd!” Mulan said, holding up the bowl that was cupped in her hands.
“Oh, I’m glad to be rid of that one,” Lu Ting-Pin said. “Now that my penance is over, I’m going to get a gourd that makes wine. Anyway, you need it.”
Mulan looked at him, unable to put into words all that she wished to say. “Thank you, Master Lu,” she said, finally.
“Ah, don’t thank me! I thank you,” Lu Ting-Pin said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I thought it was strange that the Rabbit did not want me to tell you who you are. But I see now that you already know.”
Mulan frowned in confusion, but before she could reply, the Rabbit was pulling her to the cloud.
“We must go,” he said to her. “Come.”
They stood in front of the cloud, shimmering with opalescent light.
“Farewell!” Lu Ting-Pin called, bowing. “The greatest joy in life is seeing a friend unexpectedly. I hope to have that joy with you soon.”
The Rabbit nodded at Lu Ting-Pin nonchalantly, but Mulan saw the look of affection that passed between them as the corner of Rabbit’s mouth curved. She bowed as low as she dared while holding the bowl of liquid, the water now the color of the sky at dusk. It was time to go. Mulan stepped one foot onto the cloud.
“Oh, wait,” Mulan said, remembering the cloth rabbit she had left on the stone bench. “Xiu’s toy!”
But it was too late. Because instead of stepping on a puffy, cushion-like surface as she expected, Mulan’s foot went through the cloud. And as soon as her toe entered it, a mist rose over her, covering her so that all she could see was thick white fog, silencing all sound. Disoriented, Mulan brought her other foot down to steady herself, but to her dismay, there was no ground for her foot to find! Mulan wobbled precariously, unbalanced and dizzy. She was falling through the cloud.
MULAN’S FEET finally found the earth and she stumbled forward. She shook her head, trying to rebalance herself, and as she did, the fog of the cloud dissipated to reveal…a kettle?
Mulan blinked and then realized that the kettle was familiar. It was the same one she had used tens of hundreds of times. She was in the kitchen. Her kitchen. The jars of oil and soy sauce, the clay vats tied with cloth, the baskets hanging from the ceiling, and the bamboo tub—they were exactly as she
had left them.
However, it looked different, too. Everything seemed crisper and thicker and more solid. It was as if the cloud had wiped away all the enchantment and magic that Mulan had been able to see.
But not quite all.
For as she looked down, she saw that she was still holding a bowl in her hands—an old earthenware bowl that she had used for years. But the liquid inside it was a shimmering, silvery violet—as if it were filled with a piece of the sky at dusk.
Then Mulan heard voices in the other room. Ma! Ba! Xiu.
Still clutching the bowl, she rushed through the door, bursting into the other room.
“Gently, Mulan,” Ma admonished her. “You needn’t barge in like an ox.”
“But…” Mulan said, glancing all around. Her parents stood together as if in the middle of a serious conversation and looked at her curiously. Xiu was still and silent on the bed, and Old Auntie Ho leaned over her. Through the window, a purple gloom had covered the colorful remnants of the departed sun, lining the sky for night’s entrance. Had she imagined it all? The Rabbit, Lu Ting-Pin, the White Fox? That steam that had hit her face…it seemed so long ago, but maybe the medicine was so powerful that it had dazed her and created a wild fantasy in her mind. She shook her head in confusion.
Next to the window, a tall man was tying a cloth toy to the leaning pole. He looked at Mulan.
“Just returning this,” the Healer said. “It must have fallen off.”
Mulan studied him. He was the same Healer she remembered, tall and aristocratic in his rich robes. His finely featured face did not give the smallest hint of miraculous secrets or Immortal powers, but she couldn’t help staring at his amber eyes and his silver beard, as lush and soft as rabbit’s fur.
“Mulan!” her mother was scolding, as Mulan realized she was gaping in a way that no well-behaved young girl should. Mulan dropped her head.
“Is the decoction ready?” the Healer asked, coming toward Mulan and taking the bowl. He inspected it and nodded. “Yes, this is right. Well done.”
Mulan looked up at his last words, and when he smiled she could not help feeling disconcerted. That smile was so familiar. It was the Rabbit’s smile.
The Healer brought the bowl to Xiu’s bed and Auntie Ho shifted Xiu to a sitting position. Then, with her parents and Mulan crowding around and watching, the Healer eased the liquid through Xiu’s lips.
They all waited. They waited in silence while the world outside the room continued. Mulan could hear a dog bark and whine. Sounds of boys playing ball, arguing and cheering, drifted through the window. The fire from the kitchen stove crackled and birds began their twilight songs. Ordinary, commonplace matters that Mulan had seen and heard every day of her life merged and mingled around her, making the marvels of her adventure even more unbelievable. It could not have truly happened, she thought. She was being foolish to think that it could have been real. As Xiu remained still, Mulan’s heart stung from the thousand cuts of her breaking hopes. The blackness of night spilled into the sky.
But then, in the last remaining light of dusk, the blanket covering Xiu began to rise and fall. She was beginning to breathe regularly. Auntie Ho lit a lantern, and they could see that Xiu’s ghostly white face was now tinged with warmth, returning to her rosy, healthy glow. A soft sigh escaped Xiu’s mouth, and then, her eyes slowly fluttered open.
Ma and Ba threw themselves onto Xiu’s bed, embracing her and weeping. Auntie Ho crushed Mulan in a joyous embrace. “It’s a miracle!” Auntie Ho said, dancing. “A miracle!”
“Mulan?” Xiu’s soft voice cut through rejoicing and she held out her arm to her older sister. “Is the spider gone?”
Mulan came over to the bed and clasped Xiu’s hand. She placed her head on Xiu’s shoulder, blinking away her tears. “You don’t have to worry about that spider ever again,” Mulan said, pressing Xiu’s hand close. “I killed it.”
HAPPINESS SEEMED to burst from Mulan’s home and throughout the entire tulou. After assuring herself of Xiu’s recovery, Ma rushed at a frenzied pace to cook Xiu’s favorite strengthening foods. This zealous energy was only added to by Auntie Ho, who delivered the good news like thunder—a loud, shouting proclamation to the other villagers. Almost at once, a stream of visitors came, clustering and bearing gifts.
And in the midst of the crowd and noise and cooking, the Healer silently slipped away, unnoticed by all.
All except for Mulan, of course, who saw his bright crimson cloak flap out the door. Quietly, she followed him. She passed through the tulou’s round courtyard, nodding politely at villagers calling out celebratory greetings, avoiding statues and stepping over chickens, but never losing sight of that red robe. Finally, right outside the tulou, she caught him.
Night had finally conquered the sky, turning it to a black velvet scattered with starry diamonds. The many lanterns inside the tulou cast a golden glow that streamed from the doorway, gilding the Healer with its light. He stood as if waiting, and when Mulan reached him, she heard a whinny in the distance. Black Wind!
The horse galloped out to them, nickering. Black Wind nuzzled his nose into Mulan as she hugged him and watched the Healer carefully remove the red string from the horse’s neck. So it had been real! She had not imagined it. She and the Rabbit had truly saved Xiu. Mulan felt as if she might burst, the questions and wonder overwhelming her.
However, as she met the amber eyes of the Healer, a strange tranquility washed over her and she found herself asking only, “Will I ever see you again?”
“Of course,” he said, the amused look that so often adorned the Rabbit’s face now on the Healer’s. “Though you will probably never realize that it’s me.”
“Because you’re always changing forms,” Mulan said.
“Yes,” the Healer said, “but also because the time you have with Immortals fade from your memory.”
Mulan’s face clouded. “So I won’t remember you?” she asked, and a strange ache trickled onto her heart, as if cold drips from a melting icicle were falling upon it.
“You might,” the Healer said, and there was a sadness on his face as well. “But only as part of a very strange dream.”
Mulan released Black Wind and turned to the Healer. “But everything will be fine now, right?” Mulan asked. “The White Fox is gone and Xiu will live to grow up, save the Emperor, and bring honor to our family.”
“You should know by now that Immortals do not like to tell what they know,” the Rabbit said, giving her a grin much like Lu Ting-Pin’s.
“But…” Mulan started and then stopped, thinking of all that the Rabbit knew and did not like to tell. “Lu Ting-Pin said you didn’t want him to tell me who I was.”
“And he also said that he realized he did not need to,” the Healer said.
“I don’t know what he meant,” Mulan said. “Who am I?”
The Healer gave her a rueful smile. “Mulan,” he said, finally, as he put his hands on her shoulders, “you are a mighty warrior.”
“What?” Mulan said, incredulous. “I’m no warrior.”
The Healer shook his head in disbelief. “You have thrown bladed needles, returned an island to green, flown on an Immortal’s breath, slain the ten thousandth demon of a peach-wood sword, and saved the lives of your sister and the Jade Rabbit,” the Healer said. “What else could you be?”
“But that was…” Mulan sputtered. “That doesn’t mean I…I’m just…”
The Healer brought his forehead to hers. “Of everything, this is what you must not forget,” he said seriously. “You are a mighty warrior.”
With that, he released her. Then he turned and walked away. Mulan, one arm around Black Wind, found herself staring at the lighted ground in front of them. The Healer’s departing shadow was long and thin, but hers…hers, with its resolute stance and broad shoulders, looked strong and powerful. Perhaps it could be the shadow of a mighty warrior.
“Mulan! Mulan!” voices called, spilling out from the tulou. “Where are you?”
“Here!” Mulan called into the entrance. She looked back to the Healer, but he was gone. She squinted, and then she saw the pale shape of rabbit ears fading in the distance. Mulan smiled, knowing that the Healer, in the dark peace of night, had transformed back to the Jade Rabbit.
