Reflection

by Elizabeth Lim

  “I did it to save my father,” Mulan told Shang softly. “Please understand that everything I—that Ping—did was true and in service to the Emperor’s army. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Shang didn’t reply.

  “Please understand,” Mulan tried again. She moved closer to him, until her shadow brushed against his glowing silhouette. “I wanted to spare my father. I hoped to make him proud of me, the way you and your father—”

  Shang recoiled, his rigidness snapping. “Do not speak of my father. You lied to him, too.”

  “I had no choice!” Mulan bit back another protest. “You should understand, Shang. I was trying to save you. He—”

  “Understand? That I couldn’t save my father when he needed me, so I should understand that you lied and deceived the entire army so you could save yours?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” appealed Mulan.

  “Then what?”

  “That’s enough,” ShiShi said, finally speaking up. Mulan turned to the lion.

  “Listen to her, Li Shang. Do not let your emotions overwhelm you. Whether she is Ping or Mulan, a true friend is rare.”

  “ShiShi,” Shang growled. “You are my father’s guardian, not mine.”

  “I am your guardian,” replied the lion. “You are being stubborn. Do not let pride blind you into forsaking your friend.”

  “You trusted Ping,” Mulan said. “Why is Mulan any different?”

  Shang turned away. He wouldn’t look at her. “I thank you for accompanying my guardian to find me in the Underworld.” His voice was distant, polite, as if they were strangers. “I relieve you of your duty here, and I discharge you from your obligation to the army. ShiShi and I will complete the journey out of Diyu. I ask that you find your own way.”

  His words were like a punch to the stomach. Mulan paled. “Shang…”

  “The penalty for impersonating an Imperial soldier is death,” Shang said coldly. “I don’t want to see you again. If I do, I’ll have no choice but to follow the law.”

  Mulan’s chest tightened. Before she bowed her head, she thought she saw a flicker of emotion waver in Shang’s eyes. But he kept his chin lifted, and without turning back, he headed into the forest.

  ShiShi rose to his feet and began to trail Shang, but he lingered for a moment, then went up to Mulan.

  The lion took a deep breath through his nose. “Worry not. I will get him out of Diyu before the sun rises.”

  She nodded. Mulan was afraid if she said anything else, her voice might break.

  He paused. “Remember to follow the moon, little soldier.”

  She waited until ShiShi and Shang were out of sight. Then she crumpled onto her knees, sinking into the dirt.

  It hurt to breathe. It hurt, like someone had taken her heart and squeezed it dry. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but Mulan wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  She wouldn’t cry.

  What did I expect? That he’d learn the truth and then congratulate me for fooling them all? For being a girl strong and brave enough to fight alongside men?

  Mulan sniffed again. No. But she had thought he might…understand.

  He doesn’t. That’s clear as day. Who could blame him? I said so myself—all anyone expects of a girl is to be obedient and raise sons. Girls aren’t meant to go to war. Why should I have expected Shang to think differently?

  Mulan dug her hands into the soil. The realization that she’d have to go home in disgrace made her chest tighten. So much for her dreams to bring honor back to her family.

  Everything had fallen apart.

  Not only that—if she was being truly honest with herself, she was disappointed.

  I wish he’d understood.

  She clutched at her chest and took a deep breath. It didn’t help with the pain, but it helped clear her mind.

  Deep down, she knew Shang’s threat to kill her was just that—a threat. But she knew he’d meant what he said about never seeing her again. And that stung.

  Mulan watched the dirt slip through her fingers, and then she got up. She had to keep moving. Even if she dreaded what her parents would think of her now, if she stayed here any longer she’d lose all hope of ever seeing them again.

  It was dark. The moonlight was barely strong enough to breed shadows, and as she fumbled through the woods she wished she’d brought a lantern so she might see ShiShi’s paw prints in the dirt.

  The trees swayed around her, and the wind picked up in strength, carrying a rush of leaves into the air. The leaves swept across Mulan’s face and arms, the teeth along their edges lightly scratching against her sleeves.

  You lied to me, something whispered. You lied to me.

  Mulan froze. “Shang?”

  Shang… the voice echoed.

  “The Hall of Echoing Forests,” Mulan reminded herself grimly. “Just what I need.”

  Mulan shivered, ignoring the trees as they began to speak. Who are you? Ping? Who are you? I trusted you. Trusted…you…

  She grimaced. If anything, the whispering trees made her move faster. “I have to get out of here.”

  By now she’d lost all sign of Shang and ShiShi. They’d disappeared into the thick of the forest, leaving her alone with the trees. Cloaked in the shadows, the trees could easily have passed for monsters with barbed arms and swooping wings.

  But they didn’t scare Mulan. As she made her way through the forest, it was loneliness that sharpened in her gut, not fear.

  She’d grown up with few friends. She’d played with the neighborhood boys, chasing pigeons and catching fireflies with them until it was no longer considered proper. By then, the girls in the village scorned her. In front of her mother and father, they pretended to be polite, but Mulan knew what they said about her behind her back.

  Ill-bred and ill-mannered.

  She has the temper of a firecracker and the grace of a bull.

  It’s a miracle she even looks like a girl—look at the hay in her hair, and the dirt on her face. What a discredit to her mother!

  The insults had never bothered Mulan too much. Back then, her mother comforted her by telling her to ignore what people said, and talking to her father would always make her feel better. And she’d had Khan for company…then, later, Mushu and Cri-Kee. But here, in this vast forest—she was alone.

  She hadn’t been so alone in a long time.

  Mulan picked up her feet. She had to get moving. Even if Shang no longer thought of her as a friend, even if he hated her—she still cared for him. And their fates were still intertwined. If she didn’t get out of Diyu, Shang would remain a spirit.

  The wind intensified. It had never been so strong before. It warped the trees’ song, turning the humming into a low hiss.

  Mulan shielded her face, then gathered her hair and tied it back up. The pain in her ankle hadn’t gotten better. She’d put too much pressure on it earlier climbing the Mountain of Knives and running after Shang. Now it begged her for rest.

  I can rest when I’m out of here, she told herself. Ignoring the terrible voices hissing after her from the trees, she pressed against their trunks for support. Step by step, she trod through the forest, following the moonlight for that tunnel Ren had promised was on this level.

  The moon’s beacon was merely a slant of light touching upon the forest’s dark canopy. It illuminated the path toward the tunnel. Gradually, the trees thinned out, and Mulan reached a small clearing in the woods.

  A tunnel awaited her in the clearing. No, not just one tunnel. Three.

  This couldn’t be right. Which one did she take?

  The tunnels lay over the earth like three enormous hollow logs. Ivy crawled over their sides, but not a leaf or branch dangled over the tunnels’ entrances.

  Mulan peered into each, but the paths inside were shadowy and dark. She couldn’t see where any of them led.

  She examined the ground, hoping to find a clue of which tunnel Shang and ShiShi had taken, but she saw nothing.

>   No footsteps, no paw prints. Had Shang and ShiShi even come this way?

  With a deep breath, she traced the outer walls of the tunnel. The stone was cold and unmarked. There were no bronze medallions of King Yama’s head, the marker Mulan had looked for on every other portal to another level.

  Another gust of wind assaulted Mulan, bringing a tempest of leaves to batter her face. She pushed the leaves away, and a deep, rumbling sound echoed from the tunnels.

  You’re never going to get out of here, a voice whispered. You’re lost.

  That wasn’t an echo. “Who’s there?” Mulan shouted.

  You’re going to die here in Diyu. Alone.

  She spun to face the trees behind her. They still swayed, their leaves swishing and swooshing with the wind.

  Mulan shoved aside the voices. “Ren said to always take the leftmost path,” she said, forcing herself to focus. “I guess that counts for the tunnels, too.”

  She stepped toward the first tunnel, sure of her choice.

  Then something in the ivy brushes rustled, and Mulan halted. Her hand went to her sword. “Who’s there? Come out.”

  “That’s the wrong tunnel,” said a soothing feminine voice. “You might want to rethink that path.”

  Mulan blinked.

  “Down here,” the voice spoke again.

  Mulan shifted her gaze down, to the side of the tunnel.

  There stood a russet-furred fox with unblinking jade eyes. She had to be the most striking fox Mulan had ever seen. Her fur was glossy and smooth, her tail striped with touches of gold. She was caught under a boulder.

  “Help me,” the fox whimpered. “Please. My tail is stuck.”

  Mulan knelt, gauging the situation. The boulder was heavy—far too heavy for her to lift or push. She stuck her sword under it for leverage, then heaved.

  “Thank you, thank you, soldier.” The fox slipped out and swished her tail back and forth, making sure she hadn’t lost a hair. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  “No,” Mulan said. Her tone was flat, and she realized she probably sounded very rude. She sighed. “No,” she said again, “it’s the least I could do.”

  “Then the least I can do is tell you that demons are looking for you,” replied the fox, grooming her tail. “They were here just minutes ago searching for intruders.”

  Mulan froze. “Demons? Here?”

  The fox nodded. “When they saw me, they decided to have some fun and trap me under the boulder. If not for you, who knows how long I would have been here, languishing among these singing trees.”

  “Did they find anyone?” Mulan asked urgently.

  “Not yet. You look lost, soldier.”

  Mulan swallowed the hard lump in her throat. She didn’t trust creatures of Diyu, and this fox—no matter how innocent sounding—was no different. Besides, she needed to hurry, in case the demons found Shang and ShiShi. “I’m not, thank you.”

  She quickened her pace and headed for the tunnel, but the fox followed. “If you’re trying to reach the hundredth level, this isn’t the correct tunnel. You need to be in the leftmost tunnel.”

  Mulan slowed. That was what Ren had told her. Maybe the fox wasn’t trying to lead her astray. “Isn’t this it?”

  “No, but I can show you the way,” the fox said helpfully. “It isn’t far.”

  The fox scampered back into the forest. After some hesitation, Mulan followed, but she kept her sword in her hand just in case.

  The fox was right. There was another tunnel back in the forest. There was a grove hidden behind a large willow tree. And this one had a medallion of King Yama’s frowning face floating in the middle of the entrance.

  She’d never been so relieved to see anyone frown at her.

  “Thank you,” Mulan said, breathing hard. “If not for you, I would have missed this.”

  “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Where are you going?”

  Mulan hesitated. Her grandmother had always told her to beware of foxes. In all the tales she’d heard as a child, they were full of tricks and up to no good. Her instincts told her to be careful, but her emotions were high and her defenses were low. “I’m trying to get to the gates.”

  “I can come with you, if you like.” The fox smiled at Mulan, her jade-green eyes still unblinking. “You shouldn’t go alone, soldier. Not when you look so glum. What is the matter?”

  “Nothing you can help me with.”

  “Well, at least let me guide you through the tunnel. It can be quite a maze, and there are certain chambers within you’ll want to avoid.”

  “Thank you,” Mulan said, “but I can manage.”

  “I have to go this way anyway,” the fox insisted. “How about I take you as far as I need to go?”

  There was no arguing. The fox scurried off into the dark tunnels ahead, and Mulan had no choice but to follow.

  The tunnel’s steps were high and uneven; Mulan lost count of how many times she nearly tripped. Sometimes the ceilings were low, and other times they were so high she wondered where they could possibly be walking under. All this forced her to be alert, which she decided was a good thing, if only because it kept her mind off Shang.

  Rocks, pebbles, and leaves littered the ground. She could see little else. The shadows here were dense, and the darkness was the excuse she gave herself every time she took a careless step. Deep down, she knew her heart was elsewhere.

  “We’re almost there,” the fox said. “Just a bit more.”

  Mulan followed without a word. If she inhaled deeply enough, she caught a hint of ash in the wind, as if from something burning far, far away. She remembered the blazing fires she’d seen in the chambers they’d passed with her ancestors and wondered whether she’d be sent to one someday for lying about who she was.

  If I am, it’d be worth it. Mulan clenched her fists. Even if I could go back and change everything, I wouldn’t. I’d still have gone to war for Baba.

  “Why so sad?” The fox’s green eyes gleamed in the darkness. “You’re so close to defeating King Yama and reaching the exit. Yet you almost look like you’d rather stay here forever.”

  Mulan snapped out of her thoughts. “You know about my deal with King Yama?”

  “The demons mentioned it when they were looking for you.” The fox’s pointy ears perked. “They mentioned a spirit and a lion, too. Why aren’t you with them?”

  Instead of answering, Mulan pressed her palm against the tunnel’s granite walls. The stone was even colder inside the tunnel. Touching it sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Because they found out who I really am,” she said quietly. “They found out I’ve been lying to them.”

  The fox stopped swaying her tail. “But you’ve such an honest face, soldier. I can’t believe that you would lie to your friends.”

  “Looks are deceiving, then,” Mulan said. Liwei had been right to doubt her. She wished she could see her ancestors now and apologize to them, and at least tell them the truth.

  “I can see the wound is fresh,” said the fox, “so I won’t press you about it. But I might understand better than you think. We foxes have the reputation of being crafty. Even if we’re telling the truth, we’re called out for being liars.”

  “That’s not what happened,” said Mulan.

  “Then?”

  She let go of the tension in her shoulders. “It’s a long story.”

  “Hmm. I know just what will cheer you up.”

  Before Mulan could ask what, the fox made a sharp turn left through a tight, winding passageway. The smell of flowers wafted to Mulan’s nose, and she sniffed.

  “Isn’t it glorious?” the fox said, her voice echoing down the tunnel as she ran ahead. “Through here. We’re almost there.”

  “Wait!” Mulan cried, running to catch up. “Wait! Is that the way out? Where did you—”

  Her breath caught in her throat as she emerged from the tunnel. “Go?” she whispered, finishing the question to herself.

  The fox was gone, but M
ulan had arrived in a garden. Instinctively, she held back before taking another step.

  No, this wasn’t Meng Po’s garden. There were no rosebushes or tangerine and lemon trees, no wild grasses growing tall as her waist. No demons lurking beside the pond.

  This garden was peaceful and calm. Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass.

  There was something familiar about this place.

  Her eyes traveled down the flat stone steps. She knew this path, knew those stones. The third one from the bottom had a crack in the middle—from when she was five and the neighbor’s boy convinced her there were worms on the other side of the stones. She’d hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with.

  There weren’t any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they’d spent an afternoon counting them in the garden.

  Mulan smiled wistfully at the memory. This can’t be the same garden. I’m in Diyu.

  Yet no painter could have re-created what she saw more convincingly. Every detail was as she remembered. At the bottom of the stone-cobbled path was a pond with rose-flushed lilies, and a marble bench under the cherry tree. She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her.

  And beyond the moon gate was—

  Mulan’s hand jumped to her mouth.

  Home.

  That smell of home—of Baba’s incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar; of noodles in Grandmother Fa’s special pork broth; of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.

  Forgetting her doubts, Mulan dashed down the steps and through the moon gate, past the great stone dragon statue and wooden fences to her family’s home. She slid open the faded red door and called, “Mama? Baba? Nai Nai?”

  No answer.

  The house was empty.

  Slowly, Mulan walked down the main hall. Her boots tapped against the cherrywood floor, which had been swept clean. Her grandmother did it every morning over her mother’s protests and offers to help.